#'look hot smile and say your line' easy and smooth like almost no effort on his part | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kenzicraw · 3 years

Text

Back in the Saddle

Midvale, a few weeks post-Phantom Zone. In an attempt to remaster the powers Kara spent months without, she and her two most important people make a road trip home to test her flight.

Or, I just want Kara to be able to fly for the joy of it the way Clark did in Man of Steel.

Read with “Flight” by Hans Zimmer playing. You won’t regret it.

/////

Lena knows the moment Kara emerges from the house up on the ridge. Alex’s eyes flick up, back down, then up again in quick succession. An entirely smug grin alights her face before she pointedly looks back down at her tablet.

“We’re going to have to have a talk about your affinity for making my sister new suits at some point, Luthor,” she says.

Lena feels her face heat up. “No idea what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Lena scoffs. “She needed a new one,” she hisses at the smirking elder Danvers. “The one she had was wrecked and there was no fixing it.”

“Agreed,” Alex allows, smile growing. “But this is what? The fourth one you’ve made for her?”

“One other! With upgrades!”

“Mmhmm.” Alex types a few more things into the tablet. Pulls out a USB and plugs it into the side. “Sure.”

Lena feels her face go hot. “What are you insinuating, Alex?”

Alex shrugs. “Not insinuating anything,” she says. She glances back up and smiles some more. “Just thinking you’re making a habit of making suits for Kara and I kind of appreciate it.”

At Lena’s questioning look, Alex elaborates. “Winn made her first one,” she says. “And yeah, it did the job, but it was-“ she waves her hand in a so-so gesture, wincing- “not the best. Prone to wardrobe malfunctions.”

Lena snorts. “Patriarchy.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Alex agrees with a playful two finger salute.

After a shared grin with Lena, her eyes travel back to where Kara must have made it down to the beach. “They’ve all protected her, the suits you’ve made,” Alex says. Her voice has gone quiet. Gone is the light teasing. She holds Lena’s eyes for a moment. “And I... can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Lena’s eyes suddenly mist over, and her throat works against the lump that forms there.

Alex looks pointedly back down at her tablet, where she pulls up a video feed from one of the comm pieces resting on the boulder she’s made her impromptu HQ desk. She clears her throat. “I’ve never made sure you knew that. So. Now I’m telling you.”

Lena absolutely refuses to cry, but fuck if it doesn’t take a Herculean effort. She wrestles with the hot gratitude and affection boiling in her chest as Alex fiddles with the settings on the camera feed.

Alex glances up again, and her smile turns warm in a way Lena knows is reserved only for her sister. “Looking good, sis,” she calls. “Little weird without the cape, though.”

“Thanks! Lena made it!” Kara chirps from behind Lena. “Even has pockets! And yeah, I was going to ask you about that. Is there no cape, Lena?”

She barely dares to turn, but Alex is giving her one hell of a challenging look, and she’s still a Luthor.

And Luthors never back down from a challenge.

She turns her face just enough to look over her shoulder and immediately curses that particular Luthor trait.

Sure, she made the suit. But that in no way prepares her for what it looks like when it’s wrapped around Kara. The dark blue, almost black throws her golden hair, shimmering in the late sun, in sharp relief. The smooth material sweeps over the dips and curves of her shoulders and biceps, the dip in the high collar exposing slightly below the hollow of her throat. She approaches silently on the sand, the soft and supple deep maroon boots smooth and soundless. Lena had left the pants a little loose, a little more comfortable, but that did nothing to hide the muscle that bunches and releases rhythmically as Kara walks across the sand.

And she’s looking quizzically at Lena. Head slightly titled, blue eyes somehow even bluer against the darkness of her suit, the blue and red accents, and the reddish tint of the setting sun.

Lena rips her eyes away from the subtle dips in Kara’s abs and desperately wracks her brain to remember what question was asked of her.

“Cape, Lena?” Alex prompts with a shit eating grin.

“Right,” Lena coughs. She turns fully to meet Kara, hand already pointing to the belt slung diagonally across Kara’s chest. “I figured, since you’re not wanting to be in the limelight just yet, I should make it a bit more understated,” Lena explains. “Did you see the crest on your left shoulder?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “I like that it’s so small.”

“Press it.”

Kara’s eyes dance with curiosity, not leaving Lena’s, as she reaches up to press on the tiny S affixed to the dark brown leather.

At the press of Kara’s fingers, the nanites immediately begin to crawl across the suit, gathering and extending down her back and around her chest in a long, deep maroon cloak. Kara lets out a startled sound of delight, swishing the thick material and stroking at it with near reverence.

“More nanites?” Alex smirks.

Lena shrugs, tossing the elder Danvers a smirk of her own. “I mean, I do have an MO at this point. No sense in ditching it.”

“It’s great!” Kara exclaims. She swishes the cloak again, grinning happily. “I can put it away if I want! This would have saved me so many headaches years ago!”

She bounces over to Lena and wraps her up in a warm hug. “Thank you,” she says quietly. Only for Lena. “I love it.”

Lena squeezes her around the back, hands fisting in the material of the cloak, feeling herself flush with happiness. “I’m glad,” she whispers.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Lena,” Alex says as they break apart. She’s back at the tablet, tapping and looking over some sort of read out. “She was always complaining how the cape got in the way.”

Lena arches an eyebrow at Kara. “What about your cape tricks?”

Kara grimaces. “Much less useful than I was led to believe.”

Alex snorts. “Understatement of the century,” she mutters. “Okay,” she strides over to a Kara and gently fits a comm around her ear. “That has a GPS and camera built in. We’ll be able to see what you see, know where you are, monitor vitals-“

Kara makes a face. “Wait, if you can track me, couldn’t someone else?”

Lena shakes her head. “The crest has signals built in to interfere with radar. Any signal that’s not Alex’s will get scrambled to cloak you.”

Kara surges forward for another hug, and over her shoulder Lena sees Alex smile with an exasperated shake of her head.

“Always protecting,” she mutters.

“What, Alex?” Kara asks as she lets Lena go and takes a step back.

“Nothing,” Alex says. She inputs a few more commands on the tablet, then looks up at Kara. “So. You ready?”

Lena glances over to Kara for what she thinks will be a quick confirmation.

But in those brief seconds, Kara’s easy smile and eager brightness had darkened.

In the red glow of the sun, she stands with her face tilted upward. She gazes at the sky with unfiltered longing, but her hands are trembling. Her whole being quivers, wound tight like a spring, as if she wants nothing more than to hurl herself up to the clouds. But there’s a tightness in her eyes, something there that just... won’t let her. She just stands there, shaking, looking up with haunted eyes.

Alex reaches out, rests a hand on Kara’s forearm. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything crazy. Whatever you’re ready for is all you have to do. The rest will follow.”

Kara nods, but still she hesitates. “But what if- what happens if I can’t- I mean-“

“I caught you floating in your sleep two nights ago,” Lena says gently and Kara’s eyes - desperate, scared eyes - whip to hers. “You can do this. But only if you’re ready to. Okay?”

The near manic desperation in Kara’s eyes cools as they hold each other’s gaze. She squeezes Alex’s hand, takes a breath, and nods resolutely.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, giving her shoulders a shake. “I’m good. I’m okay.”

Alex squeezes her arm, then lets go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Kara has her eyes on the sky again, gives her shoulders one more fortifying shake. She flexes her hands, rubs them on her pants once. She glances over at Lena and seems to brighten at the reassuring smile Lena gives her.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Here goes nothing.”

She stills, closes her eyes. Breathes in deep, then lets it out slow.

She breathes once more, the tense lines of her face relaxing.

Silently, her feet leave the sand.

Alex reaches over for Lena’s arm and grasps it tightly.

Eyes still closed, Kara rises higher in the air, straight up. She turns in gentle circles as she ascends, up and above the ridge.

Alex is looking over the read-outs on the tablet, eyes darting back and forth with near frantic energy. “Looking good so far, Kara,” she says distractedly. “Vitals are good. You’re at a hundred feet now.”

“Feels good,” comes Kara’s voice through the comms. “I’m not even trying.”

Alex’s smile is so proud Lena wants to cry. “That’s good, kid. That’s so good. Two hundred feet now.”

Alex is still gripping Lena’s arm painfully tight, but she’s rocking up on her toes happily, shooting Lena fervent looks of pure joy.

“Knew you could do it, Kara,” Lena says into her own comms, taking Alex’s hand away from her arm but keeping ahold of it. She squeezes as tight as her own bubbling pride allows.

Kara’s finally in the air. She’s flying. It’s one more step closer to conquering the giant mountain they’ve been climbing since she got back.

“How high now, Alex? I’m not looking.”

Alex glances at the screen, then up towards where Kara is becoming a dark dot among the clouds. “A thousand feet. Still feeling good?”

“Yeah. Really good, actually.”

“Have you opened your eyes yet?” Alex’s voice is teasing.

“No. What if I’m suddenly afraid of heights?” Her voice is childishly whiny, drawing a chuckle out of Alex and Lena.

Lena glances down at the video feed from Kara’s earpiece and has to stop herself from gasping.

“Kara, I think you should open your eyes,” she says slightly breathlessly.

“I’m gonna fall if I do,” comes Kara’s tight reply.

Alex is also staring at the camera feed, watching as the view of the water recedes farther toward the bottom of the screen as Kara rises higher and higher. “Kara, you want to see it,” she says. “Trust us.”

Lena knows the exact moment Kara opens her eyes. There’s a tiny gasp through the comms, and the camera arrests in place. Locked on to the brilliance of the shimmering water, the watercolor of the clouds in the light of the setting sun.

For a moment, Kara hangs motionless in the air.

Alex is anxiously tightening and loosening her grip on Lena’s hand. Looking up to where Kara is barely a speck in the sky, back to the camera, then back up again.

“Kara?” she says, a small break in her voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” comes Kara’s breathless voice. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

There’s another moment of silence, then “It’s breathtaking. I... I’d almost forgotten-“ her voice cracks, and she clears her throat -“How beautiful this planet is.”

Alex squeezes Lena’s hand so tight it hurts, and Lena brings her free hand to grip at Alex’s forearm.

Alex sniffles, swipes her eyes against her shoulder. “It has its moments,” she rasps.

For a few long moments, they three stay silent. Lena and Alex on the ground, clutching at hands and arms in barely restrained joy with the waves lapping nearby.

And Kara, so high they can’t even see her, hanging in midair. Silent save for her gentle, easy breathing and the wind whistling around her.

And then, so suddenly both Lena and Alex flinch, she huffs a breath.

“Wanna see how fast I can get around the world?”

Alex barks a laugh, exchanging a fond and relieved look with Lena. “Your record is what? Thirty four seconds?”

“I can beat that,” comes the cocky reply.

And god, she sounds so happy.

Alex scoffs. “If you say so.”

Lena pulls out her phone and sets up a stopwatch. “On my mark, then?” she says.

“Don’t break anything, Kara,” Alex warns, though there’s no bite in her voice.

“And don’t break that suit,” Lena chimes in.

Kara’s voice has a tiny edge of Supergirl - the first since the Phantom Zone - when she replies. “Nothing’s getting broken here except the sound barrier.”

A shiver shoots down Lena’s spine. She does her best to ignore why.

“In three, two, one-“ she taps her phone- “Go.”

BOOM!

The noise vibrates through Lena’s chest. High above, the sky seems to part for Kara as she rockets towards the sun, leaving a trail in her wake.

Lena and Alex crowd the screen, watching wide-eyed as the ocean zips by far below, clouds whipping past, the camera quivering with the breakneck speed.

“Oh my god,” Lena murmurs almost by accident.

On the screen, a dark line of land rapidly approaches on the horizon as Kara hurtles toward it.

“That’ll be Japan,” Alex mumbles. She checks the read-outs and nods to herself. “Vitals are still good. Heart rate’s a little elevated, but considering-“ she gestures to the screen with a wry smile.

Lena nods, barely holding back happy tears.

On screen, Kara slows just enough for the sound to come back. Air whistles through the comms, her breathing slightly labored, and she ducks her head to watch the cities blink far below.

She won’t break her record by slowing like this, but Lena doesn’t mention that. And neither does Alex. They just watch as Kara picks up speed again, camera angling strangely as she dives.

She shoots west, weaving in huge slalom turns. The camera angles and tilts as she looks across the water, across the trees and grasslands and mountains as she passes them. Cities and towns flash past like street lights on a highway.

On the screen, her GPS tracks her through the rest of Asia, across India and into Africa. It’s a far cry from the speed she’d shot off at, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she dips and rolls through the clouds, hand outstretched as if to catch the swirling vapors.

Once she reaches the distant coast, Kara dips so low her hand reaches out to skim the water. She sails over the waves, fingers dragging, until she finds a pod of dolphins playing in the white water. For a moment, she flies just above the waves with them as they leap and dance.

The camera jerks toward the sky, and Kara gives a loud, delighted whoop as she shoots upwards. Spinning and spinning so fast the camera is blurring with the speed.

And through it all, Kara is laughing. Huge, joyous belly laughs, arms outstretched and head thrown back as she sails back into the clouds.

At 40,000 feet, she slows her ascent. Like a ball tossed in the air, she hovers at a stop for a split second before she starts to plummet. She turns, belly down and arms outstretched as the ocean rushes to meet her.

Still laughing with outrageous joy.

“God I missed that,” Alex murmurs. Her voice quivers and breaks.

Lena doesn’t take her eyes away from the screen. She doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this. But she does give Alex’s hand a squeeze in agreement.

Because hearing that laugh, being here and watching as Kara rolls and dives through the air, is healing pieces of Lena’s heart that she didn’t think would ever even scab over.

Kara’s joy is infectious, like it had always been. And Lena finds that she’s soaking it in like a woman parched.

On screen, Kara shoots off with another mighty BOOM. Her GPS shows her hurtling across the US at breakneck speed.

“Not even close to her record,” Alex laughs wetly. “Guess we’ll have to try again later.”

Lena swipes her hand under her eyes with a chuckle, catching tears that neither of them really acknowledge.

And seconds later, Kara lands with a muffled thump. Sand flies under her feet, and the ground trembles.

But her face is flushed, smile radiant, eyes glistening with tears.

Alex takes a step toward her, but pauses. “You okay?”

Kara gives a sobbing laugh, gestures helplessly with her hands. But her smile is wondrous.

Alex surges forward and wraps her in a tight hug. Kara clutches back, hands buried in her sister’s jacket and face pressed against her shoulder.

After a moment, one hand reaches out, fingers wiggling invitingly.

Lena takes that hand in both of hers and holds on tight. Over Alex’s shoulder, Kara’s eyes crinkle with her smile, sparkling and overwhelmed. She squeezes Lena’s hand, then tucks her eyes against her sister’s shoulder with a huge breath.

In a way, Lena feels as if they’re all breathing that same breath of relief.

“I wanna go again.” Kara’s voice is muffled adorably against Alex’s jacket.

Alex chuckles and rocks Kara back and forth happily. “We can stay out here as long as you want.”

Kara nods. “’Kay,” she says. But she holds on to Alex tighter, fingers digging into her jacket. “But in a minute, okay?”

Alex nods. Presses a kiss to the side of Kara’s head. “In a minute.”

And that seems to suit all three of them just fine. No one’s quite ready to let go yet.

/////

I'm a sucker for the angst just as much as the next nerd but I needed them to just... be happy and together. Just for a moment.

#let them be happy for a minute #let kara fly for the joy of it for once #lena's thirsty #and alex is smug about it #everyone gets a hug #I wrote dis #supergirl #danvers sisters #kara danvers #alex danvers #lena luthor

840 notes · View notes

tonesplash · 3 years

Text

its thanksgiving get nasty (18+)

pairing: edward cullen x reader

summary: you get bored at thanksgiving dinner. unfortunately for edward you wore sandals

warnings: smut,brief footjob, thanksgiving dinner, edward kind of chokes on corn, reader doesn’t like their family, mild injury, fingering, innappropriate use of vampire speed, technically exhibitionism and public sex?? bad dirty talk, and cousin-shaming, reader is afab and might be described as female im not sure

a/n: i wrote this in 24 hours so any sloppiness is not my fault

masterlist

(c/n)= cousins name

When you told him thanksgiving with your family would be boring, you’d meant it’d be for him, looking forward to his reaction to being on the receiving end of your bloodlines ridiculousness while you’d get dinner and a show. But, as it turns out, your family just so happens to get along with Edward much better than they do with you.

The seating situation is a little unconventional, since because your boyfriend-snatching cousin stole the open seat next to Edward before you even made it back from the bathroom, leaving your only viable option directly opposite of him. On the bright side, you had the option of kicking his leg when he’d said something to embarrass you.

Bless his soul, he’d done his best to bring you into the conversation but apparently, anything you had to say about your relationship had been relayed verbatim to the family group chat you weren't even in by your mother. So, after the third time you’re talked over by the aforementioned horny cousin or some other nosy relative on you’re bored out of your mind.

Everyone had gotten over your piss poor table manners years ago, or were just completely ignoring you at this point because there were no protests when they’d brought the turkey out and you’d stayed slumped low in your seat like a child in church.

Twitter had stopped refreshing ten minutes ago, and when you finally resigned yourself to tuning back into the conversation, your mother was showing Edward your baby pictures again. Idly swinging one bare foot under the table, your bare toe grazes the drape of his dress slacks under the table when you get an idea.

You’d lost a sandal earlier after Edward had pinned it under his shoe in a vain attempt to stop your pinching and dirtying of his slacks with your filthy soles. You scoot a little further forward in your seat to reach out and press your arch flat against his shin.

Edward doesn’t visibly react, just shifts his leg away, leaving yours to slip to the floor until you reach up again to plant your heel on the seat of the chair. The conversation lulls for a moment as everyone says grace, and he uses the opportunity to grab your ankle and send you a warning glare over the top of your phone.

You meet his gaze and boorishly eat a spoon of mashed potatoes, shrugging as if he couldn’t read in your mind exactly what you were about to do.

Your cousin asks about his mom car again and when you roll your eyes Edward flicks the outside of your fibula, sure to bruise, and you crinkle your nose, pinching his marble thigh between your toes as best you can through the material.

“Well my father thought it was necessary for my siblings and I to-”

While he talks, he's soothing the spot he flicked, playing in the stubble leftover from your shoddy shave job this morning, and the absent affection gives you the final motivation to further push your luck. You tease the seam of his left leg with the very tips of your toes, coaxing the unnatural heat of the venom to build in the crotch of his pants, the coolness of the rest of him making it seem even hotter in comparison.

He inhales on a forkful of corn, almost taking it down the wrong pipe, and you fight a smile around the bowl of the spoon as he flawlessly recovers and finishes the thought. You idly wonder if you could be that smooth someday. For now, you press further, pressing a toe against the seam over his cock, stroking up and down as slowly and consistently as you can while stretched under a table because who would’ve thought that footjobs are kind of an athletic feat.

Edward taps insistently at your leg, harder than he normally would, and you have to hold back a laugh at the idea of him splitting the table because he can’t take a little footsie action. You press forward again, arch encompassing his hardness through the fabric, toes curling against his pubic bone when-

“Ho-oly shit!” Searing pain shoots up from your ankle, and you double over, using everything in you not to shout, Edwards dawning mortification going unnoticed as everyone at the table turns to you at your unexpected outburst.

“(Y/n)?” Your mother doesn’t seem that happy to have dinner interrupted, and you clutch your stomach as a quick cover.

“Uh, my bad.” You snicker nervously at the sudden attention, bravado gone. Your face feels red-hot. “I actually need to use the bathroom, I think,” you lick your lips and slide out of your chair. “Lady problems.”

The table erupts in a cacophony of gags and groans as the notion of a menstrual cycle is brought up in casual conversation, and it gives you the perfect cover to retreat to the upstairs bathroom. It takes you a minute to make it up the stairs without causing a scene, and just as soon as you close and lock the door behind you and settle down to weep in peace, he’s there, jiggling the doorknob like it’s a drug bust.

“Let me in.”

You’re apparently taking too long because as soon as your injured foot touches the floor, he forces the lock and slips in, shutting the door a little too fast to pass as human.

“Jesus! Edward, are you trying to lose our deposit?” You lean around him to check for a handprint but he doesn’t respond, wordlessly setting you up on the counter, kneeling to examine your injured ankle, cool fingers soothing to the sore skin. You sit in silence, idly swinging your other leg to distract yourself.

“How'd you make it out?” You can't imagine they’d let the guest of honor go so easily.

“You forgot your bag, I told them I’d just bringing it up to you.” He places your bag next to you as evidence. “Maybe you should start carrying menstrual products for when you actually need them.”

Of course, he breaks your foot and wants to lecture you on responsible uterus care. Edward sighs, taking your foot with the gentlest touch and whispering a kiss into the skin. “It’s only a sprain, but I’m still sorry.”

“S’Okay.” Your face burns, not expecting his guilt. “Serves me right, huh?” You titter, poking his side with your uninjured foot. He swipes it up before you can start again, halfheartedly laughing with you.

“Let me wrap it before you get any more ideas.” You hand him the compression wrap from the medicine cabinet, and he gets to work. The wince you give at the pressure is more reflex than anything, but the anxious expression on his face tells you he wasn't going to let this go easily.

“Y’know…” You poke at him again. The playful contempt in his golden eyes gives you the go-ahead to make your case. “If you’re really feeling torn up about it, seeing you wow my family like that got me a little riled up.”

“Really.” Edward kisses the secured wrapping and releases you, standing to frame you against the counter.

“I’m serious, impressing them isn’t easy, (C/n) is probably shaving in the guest room to steal you from me right now, just thinking about it has got me a little hot under the collar.” You run your hands over his back and through his hair, nuzzling into the crook of his throat.

“You’re laying it on pretty thick, don’t you think?” His hands smooth over your exposed thighs sending a shiver up your spine. You think you've got him, but he's such a tease sometimes you can never really be sure.

“Depends. Is it working?” You still, bracing for some line about ‘responsibility’ and ‘your family waiting for you.’

But then his hands are under your skirt, hooking into the sides of your underwear and pulling them down your thighs, leaving them to free-fall to your feet. You clutch his auburn hair in your fingers at the shock of open-air against your cunt.

“Do you think I could let you go back to that table smelling like this?” His sweet breath washes against your ear as he huffs a soft laugh. “I’d rather not go downstairs and pretend to care about football when I know you’re here, hot and ready for me.”

You can’t resist him any longer, pulling him close and kissing him with the desperation of a woman who needs to be back downstairs before dessert. His thumb teases over your cunt at first, swirling over your swelling clit and teasing your hole before he finds a focus, using the thumb of his free hand to hold your hood back as his slicked fingers grind the bud into a frenzy while he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

It’s all you can do to hold your breath while he touches you, cool fingers building a knot in your belly, smooth and steady as they batter you up into a frenzy. He adjusts his hand, his ring finger pressing into you and bringing a low ache from rushed preparation, but you welcome it, thighs shaking with the effort to stay open for him as your mouth falls open in a shaky gasp. Edward breaks the kiss to let you breathe , seemingly unbothered until-

“(C/n) is coming.”

“Wha-” A particularly deep stroke has you biting your lip as you struggle to concentrate. “What the fuck does she want?”

“She’s going to ask you where I am.” His expression doesn’t match his words, still completely concentrated on ruining you despite the obvious issue.

“And what am I supposed to tell her?!” You hiss back right as she reaches the door. His mouth closes over your pulse point and you don't think you've clenched that hard before in your life.

“Hey (Y/n)? Have you seen Edward?” Her voice is enough of a mood killer that you have to shove your face into his throat to ground yourself in the moment. He adds a second finger, gaining speed, and you pray and hope to any god listening to this that she can't hear the squelches through the door.

“N-no.” You rack your mind for an excuse. His scent is making it harder to concentrate. “I think he went out for a smoke?” Nice one.

“Really? I didn't smell anything on him...” If all your blood flow hadn't been centralized below the waist at this point you'd’ve asked how the hell she knows what he smells like. He's fully abandoned your clit now, leaving it to pulse in the open air while three of his fingers push and pull at your pelvic floor.

“That's cause he unh-” You slap a hand over your mouth to stop the moan before it can be recognized for what it is.“-he vapes!” Edward pulls back from your throat to look at you incredulously, but it's a little hard to be ashamed when he's nearly wrist deep inside you.

“Oh… Well, let him know if you see him that they’re playing charades and I need a partner. You know how it is.”

You forget to reply, too enthralled watching him spit onto his unoccupied fingers and mash the coolness against your clit, causing you to nearly spasm off the counter, losing the sensation as he silently laughs at having to hold you steady. She seemed to have taken your silence as an admission, as you can hear the door at the stoop of the stairs swinging shut after her. Thank God.

“Rub your spot, Sweet, come on, we have to be quick.” He kisses your temple and laughs a bit maniacally at the little whimper that escapes when you bring a hand down to your clit. “Surprisingly, she’s having trouble picturing me in a vape shop.”

You whine around a bitten lip, too far gone to listen to his ribbing. You’re building up to overstimulation with the sloppy way you’re rubbing yourself, and he must feel it too, because in the next second, his fingers are vibrating.

“Come on, (Y/n), don't you want to finish up here and mop the floor with them?” You hadn’t even realized how hazy your vision had gotten until he grabs your chin and levels your lidded eyes with his and says your name again. You nod sluggishly for him, not hearing a word. He laughs again, smiles wide. His teeth are pretty.

“If you cum right now;” The buzzing grows stronger, your free arm spasming under you as you support yourself. “I’ll rub you raw after on the ride home. You just need to come right now and win charades with me.”

The buzzing inside grows too strong, and your vision goes white, pulsing in long pulls around his fingers as hot waves of sensation spread from your head to your toes.

Edward kisses you, soft and slow, swallowing any whimpers tempted to escape as you come down, abandoning the counter to clutch his sleeve as the twitching reduces to a tremor.

“Oh my god.“ You laugh, planting your face into his collar as you catch your breath. “I can't believe you used charades to make me come, I'm never gonna forgive you.”

“I heard the top prize is a ten dollar gift card to…” He squints and checks again. “The Google Play Store.”

“Ew, what could you even do with tha-”

“(Y/N) come help with plates!” Your mother shouts up the stairwell, totally fucking up any release you just had.

“I guess I should run down to the corner store;” Edward smiles, helping you to stand on wobbly legs and smoothing your skirt down. “Don't want to blow your cover.”

“(Y/N)! Plates!”

“Oh my god;” Your eyes may never return from the back of your skull. “Meet you downstairs?”

He kisses you sweetly one last time, pulling you close and wiping the sheen of sweat off of your face.

“Downstairs.”

With that, he heaves himself out of the narrow sill, and you busy yourself cleaning up as fast as you can.

You just catch him hopping off the roof, and coming around to the front yard. He'll hear you no matter the volume, but you still shout the warning;

“Stay away from my cousin!”

#edward cullen x reader #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen #Twilight FanFic #twilight smut #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight x you #the twilight saga #reader insert smut #reader insert fluff #reader #thanksgiving #dinner with parents

1K notes · View notes

pleasantanathema · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Tetsurō Kuroo x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Consensual non-con (reader and Kuroo have agreed together to engage in a consensual non-consensual situation), degradation, rough sex, dirty talk, biting, choking, hair pulling, mentions of blood, spit, and smoking cigarettes

Word Count: 6k

A/N: This is a collab piece for the The Smut Pile Mafia Collab hosted by myself, @present-mel, and @linestrider

You can find all the other wonderfully creative and smutty pieces on our masterlist!

And thank you @present-mel for this beautiful banner 💕

Kuroo always took pride seeing you on stage, especially when you wore those provocative gowns that he bought for you. He sat back in his chair, one arm crossed across his chest while the other nursed a glass of bourbon to his lips. Tonight, you were more sensual than he’d seen you before, your hands cupped around the microphone, hips swaying as you sang. You were a harpy culling her crowd. The designer dress was dripping from your curves, every seam crafted to hug your body. He couldn’t keep his eyes off your waist, couldn’t keep his eyes off the high cut of the slit that exposed the smooth flesh of your thigh. He knew every man in that room was doing the same, all of them lost to the delirium of melody, but none of them got to have you like he did.

You never asked for the dresses, or the shoes, or the pearls, or his favorite color of lipstick; no, you never asked for anything, his seductive little songbird. But you always said thank you, a peculiar glint in your eyes that he knew you saved only for him.

His station in life as the leader of the Nekoma Mafia allotted him any woman he wanted in Tokyo—and he had plenty of playthings, but you? You were his favorite. You always fucked him like you loved him, let him do anything he pleased and still begged for more. But then you’d always let him go; there was no pleading, no big eyes and pouty lips begging him to stay the night. You let him be who he was, let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to, never asked where he was or what he did or who he killed, and it was your indifference to him that kept him coming back.

He wanted to make you beg for him to stay, but tonight, he wanted you to beg for him to stop.

Your voice rang in his head unconnected to the lyrics you were singing.

You can force me to fuck you any time you want, Tetsurō—god his name sounded good in your mouth, even in his thoughts—surprise me one night. I’ll say no, I’ll fight back, but only stop if I say our safeword.

The two of you had this conversation a few months ago and, at the time, he hadn’t thought much of it, still too blissed out after fucking your face underneath his desk. You’d still been swallowing his cum when he mentioned how he liked to take control of you like that, all rough hands and violent kisses that left bruises even on your cheeks where he had pulled you in to suck his cock.

But now, after too many weeks of being away from you on business, he’d had a lot of time for the exchange to settle into ruminations. He came here tonight with the full intention of forcing himself onto you after you stepped off that stage, and the image in his mind alone was enough to have him resituating his aching cock in his trousers.

__________________________________

Of course you spotted him in the crowd. He was unmistakable, black hair simmering beyond the heat of the stage lights. You couldn’t help but keep your eyes on him for a little too long at moments, excitement curling inside your belly.

You hated to admit to yourself that you’d missed him, that you’d been looking for him within the throngs of people every night, just hoping to catch a glimpse of golden eyes and a loosened tie in his usual spot in the back of the nightclub.

And there he was, eyeing you down like a predator would his prey, a grin so cavalier and catlike it made you shiver. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were already rolled up like he was prepared to sink his fingers into you at any moment.

It was hard to focus on your set, hard to keep your attention on other members in the crowd. Your hands were sweating and you were glued to the microphone out of fear that, if you let go, you’d wander right off the stage and into his lap. It was an agonizing, and quite titillating, half hour of singing.

You made a beeline to your dressing room in the back after taking a bow and blowing a few kisses, foregoing mingling at the bar with patrons. You needed to wash your hands, you needed to take a breath before you went out to see him, before you hurriedly texted him to come meet you.

But he was already there, a fresh cigarette between thumb and forefinger as he lounged against the doorframe to your room.

“Hey, kitten, been a while.”

His voice had your hair standing on end, made you stumble in your stride.

“Tetsurō,” a smile pulled at your cheeks, “you’re in my way.”

“I would say give me a password, but I suppose a kiss will do.”

You stood before him, plucking the cigarette from his fingers and pressing it to your lips for a drag. Your weight shifted to one heeled foot, your eyes never leaving his as you took a long inhale of the menthol and tobacco, the cherry of the cigarette growing hot.

He reached for you, pulling you against him so his lips could capture the smoke, drinking in the taste. You both groaned at the contact, a voltaic hum syncing your bodies together. His lips were forceful, commanding, taking the lead and easily prying yours apart for him to explore the familiar home of your mouth. The action felt natural, but you could sense there was something unknown pent up inside of him.

Your free hand fumbled with the doorknob behind him, the other holding the ashen cigarette at a safe distance away.

“Mhm, did you miss me?” he mumbled against your lips, hand trailing down the satin of your dress to trace the slit at your thigh. Long, nimble fingers curled up to find your panties.

“Not very much,” you were being cheeky, but he didn’t have to catch that.

“Oh yea? Your pussy tells me otherwise.”

A sharp moan erupted from your throat as his middle finger pressed against the dampness of your panties, his forefinger following and circling against your clit.

“Fuck—get, get in the room,” you breathed, finally getting purchase on the knob and shoving him and his greedy hands into your dressing room.

Kuroo snatched the cigarette back from your hand, taking in a pull before smothering it into the ashtray on the vanity built into the wall.

You stood before the mirror, catching a flash of him moving behind you. You felt hot, a little overwhelmed, and you weren’t sure if it was the heat from the bulbs that lined the edges of your dressing table, or if it was his presence making you edgy.

His hands were back on your hips as you removed your earrings and set them onto the table. His fingers were eager, one hand ghosting up your body to slide down the strap of your dress so he could kiss and suck at your neck and shoulder.

“Shame you didn’t miss me,” there was a tonal shift in his voice, the timbre deeper, darker, “cause I sure did miss that pretty little mouth of yours.”

His fingers dug into your jaw, roughly pulling your face to the side so he could nip at the corner of your lips.

“Easy,” you warned, pressing your elbow back against him to get some space.

“Easy? Oh kitten, there will be no easy, tonight. I haven’t had you in weeks, and I’m taking what I want.”

Realization washed over you after a few heartbeats. You grinned against the fingers pressing into your cheeks, knowing and delighted.

“Sorry, Tetsurō,” you added a vile bite to his name as you pulled your face from his grip, “I’m not interested tonight.”

“Not interested?” he sneered, that wild, feline smirk back in its place.

He was still behind you, pressing up against your back with fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. He eyed you through the mirror. He looked menacing behind you, amber eyes narrowed and glowing within the reflection of yellow lights. You’d almost forgotten how big he was; his broad body dwarfed yours, meaty shoulders caging around you, strong, round biceps curling underneath your arms as he encircled you in a tight embrace. You were drawn to the moving hand on your leg, the entirety of his palm almost eclipsing your thigh as desirous fingers once again crept towards your pussy.

“You should leave,” you meant for the words to sound serious, but there was clearly an underlying, breathy want within your voice.

“Absolutely not,” he sunk his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, groaning at the taste of your skin, “I came here for you.”

You held back your moan, struggling within his hold. Your hands flew over his, one on your thigh, the other on your stomach, bidding to pry off his ironclad fingers.

“Get off me.”

He only pulled you deeper into him, his grip tighter, teeth harsher. You winced at the pain of his bite. You struggled again, panting as you found no fruition to your efforts. God he was strong, and he was barely using any of his power to hold you.

You stepped a heeled foot onto his, jamming the stiletto into the leather of his shoe. He hissed and shoved you forward, sending your hips to knock into the edge of the vanity.

“I said get off me!”

You thought he’d hesitate, that he would take a moment to see if you really meant it, but you were mistaken.

He was into the game now.

“I like it when you’re feisty, kitten.”

You turned around to say something, but he was already on you, already one step ahead. The moment you turned, he had you in his arms, using his strength to lift you up onto the hot vanity.

“Tetsurō—!”

“Oh, shut up, you little slut, I know you want me, there’s no need to hide it.”

His hands were on your legs, in your dress. Too easily he tore at the fabric, the threads snapping like crackling fireworks against your skin. You gasped, pressing your hands against his shoulders, pushing at him with a genuine amount of strength to which he didn’t budge.

“Fuck, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I fucking can,” he scoffed, continuing to tear at the seam that lined the side of your gown, “don’t forget who spoils you.”

“Yea, a fucking mob boss,” you slighted, digging your nails into his wrist as if that would stop him.

He slapped your left cheek, hard, quick, like the fast swipe of a panther swatting at restless prey. Your neck swung to the side and you moaned, deep and strained from your chest. Your face throbbed, blood welling under your smarting skin like it was trying to figure out what happened and how to dull the pain, even though the pain was blossoming into pleasure.

“I’m someone who could end your life any time I want to, kitten. I can either hunt you down here or somewhere else, so I suggest you stop fighting.”

The gown was finally tugged from your body, and what was left of its shape fell down to your sides, the fabric caught underneath where you sat on the vanity.

With his hands free, he cradled your face, palms engulfing your cheeks. He forced you to look up at him. When you did, it brought you back to reality. He appeared wicked, enthralled, you could practically see thoughts churning inside his mind like the inner workings of a clock—he always was too smart for his own good, or, perhaps, for your own good. Your irises danced over the handsome planes of his face, over the feline curve of his eyes, over the full lips that you truly had missed feeling against yours. But you held yourself back; if he wanted to force you, you’d damn well let him.

“You’re mine, all mine.”

“No, I’m not yours. You don’t own me.”

His thumb caught to the edge of your lips, keeping them parted.

“Oh kitten,” he purred, sucking his tongue back into his mouth.

Your heart began to race as you heard a swish.

He spit down onto you, a slow, viscous string of saliva dripping from his mouth onto yours where he kept your lips pried open.

“I do own you.”

You tried to turn your face, but his hold was firm, keeping you from avoiding his territorial marking.

“Stop,” your voice was weak.

“Drink it all up like a good little girl.”

He shoved himself between your thighs, getting even closer as he watched your eyebrows furrow while you obediently licked your tongue along your lips, gathering his saliva to gulp down.

He groaned aloud at the sight, smashing his mouth down on to yours, wet and messy from spit. You didn’t kiss him back. You kept pressing back against his shoulders, trying to pull one of your knees up between your bodies to push him away, but he was quick. One of his hands snatched your thigh, roughly pressing it back down against the table to keep you in place. His mouth still worked against yours, hungry and ferocious, taking from you even though you weren’t giving anything back.

You needed to do something before you gave into him, before you wrapped your arms around him and spoiled the fun. He was intoxicating, especially with one of his hands drifting around your back to unhook your bra with ease.

One of your hands slid to his loosened tie, fingers entangling in the red fabric. You tugged, hard, attempting to force his mouth away from yours; he merely chuckled, continuing to pull at your own clothing, a little too effortlessly removing the cups of your bra from your breasts.

As cool air swept over your exposed nipples, you shivered and groaned, attempting to swat away the strong hand reaching to grope one of them.

You bit his greedy mouth, sharp and quick, catching his bottom lip between one of your canine teeth. He reacted immediately, shoving your head back against the mirror so harshly that a thick crack burst into the reflective glass.

“Fuck!” it was both of your voices shouting together, you cupping your aching skull and Kuroo fingering his busted lip.

“God you fucking bitch, you’ll pay for that.”

Blood was slick down his chin, the plump flesh of his lip noticeably pierced and split.

Your instincts were telling you to apologize, but you kept them at bay, choosing instead to take the moment to attempt to dash around his side towards the locked door. The remnants of your ruined dress fell to the floor as you quickly stood from the vanity, feet nearly tripping over one another in your heels.

“Oh no you don’t!” He caught your upper arm, swinging your helpless body back towards his. The severity of his motions had your legs buckling underneath you, your balance completely lost. He caught you before you hit the floor, keeping his arms tight around your nearly naked body as he maneuvered you to where he wanted you.

“Tetsurō,” your fingers were clawing into his forearms, feet dragging against the hardwood as he wrangled you to stand in front of him, “let me go.”

You were startled to see yourself in the mirror, having already forgotten your nakedness. You both looked disheveled, wild, his normally pristine shirt wrinkled, the white collar soaking up the drippings of blood from his mouth. You had bite marks on your neck, dark and glaring against your skin, your breasts shaking as you struggled against his encroaching arms—it was sensual, to watch yourself wrestle against him, to see his smoldering eyes watching you just as intently in the mirror. You caught a glimpse of your panties, the rustling of your bodies against one another having pushed the fabric higher on your hips, and deeper within your sopping folds.

One of Kuroo’s hands settled around your throat, using his fist as an anchor to keep your body still. His grip was harsh, fingertips solid but dormant against the sides of your neck, but there was the lingering threat that all he had to do was twist, squeeze, or press, and you’d never sing again, perhaps never leave this room again.

“Do you know what normally happens to people who fight me?” he tilted your neck back in his hold, bringing your ear closer to his mouth.

Your eyes stared at him through the reflection, your attention not leaving his face even as his free hand began to stroll across your body, fingertips tracing figure-eights on your stomach, climbing toward your breasts.

“Answer me when I speak to you, slut.”

“N-no,” it was hard to gulp underneath his palm, saliva pooling against your tongue, “I don’t know…”

“Oh yes you do, you just don’t like thinking about it.”

You could feel him smirk against your ear, see the catlike grin spreading like wildfire in the mirror.

He groped your breast, fingers brutal against your sensitive skin, pressing into the fatty flesh with unbridled possessiveness. It was painful, making your back arch away from the touch and into his chest. But it was stimulating all the same, your nipple hardening and beckoning to be pinched, tugged, owned by his hand.

“I kill the people who displease me, kitten,” he disclosed, admiring how large his hand looked against your breast as he kneaded your flesh. His knuckles were scattered with bruises, ring finger still forming a fresh scab from a recent altercation that required his fist. His skin looked barbaric compared to yours, scars and bruises against a fresh, smooth body.

He captured your nipple, wringing it between thumb and forefinger. Your whine was stopped by his hand, trapped within your vocal cords and unable to emerge under his grip.

“I could kill you so easily…” there was a pleasured grumble within his voice, bloodied mouth now kissing at the column of your neck between his spread fingers, “does that turn you on?”

You tried to shake your head, your hands pushing at both of his forearms in an attempt to free yourself. He only clutched onto you more tightly, your nipple now stinging from pain, your vision blurring from the decreased oxygen to your brain.

There was a panic brewing in your belly that you didn’t expect, true fear creeping up your spine. You knew you could mutter out your safeword and he would stop...or at least, so you thought. He looked lost within the mirror, bloodstained face almost drunk with power, his cock hard and nudging between your ass cheeks. He was getting high from this, and while you could feel a craving gnawing inside of you to give yourself up to him, there was also an edge of reality still pressing into your thoughts. Kuroo was dangerous, and if he wasn’t careful, if he crushed into your windpipe just a little too hard, and he’d have a mess on his hands, a dead plaything to throw in the dumpster behind the nightclub.

“Do you know how many mouthy whores I’ve had to get rid of? I’ve learned it’s so easy to snap pretty little necks,” his fist grew tighter around your throat to emphasize his point.

“Don’t say things like that,” you gasped, nails nearly tearing into the skin of his wrist.

His hand released your breast, your skin hot and burning from his harsh ministrations. But the reprieve was brief, his fingers snaking down your body and into your panties. You jerked your hips backwards to avoid his touch, only to find yourself grinding against the fat cock straining against his pants.

“I think you like what I’m saying,” he emphasized his words by running the pad of his index finger over your clit, your body shivering at his touch. He laughed in your ear, pressing his hips firmly against your body as you struggled to get out of his hold.

His fingers were ruthless. He spread you apart, sliding between your shamefully dripping folds with quick ease. His palm was cupped against your sex, thumb shoved directly against your clit as the other long digits prodded your tight hole. You tried to clamp your legs shut, but his hand was more durable than you expected. There was no physical way you could wiggle yourself out of this situation, and that realization alone had a concoction of panic and pleasure toiling inside your belly.

You bit your lip to stop the moans from bubbling out of your mouth.

You’d always loved his fingers; they were long, thick, perfect for curling inside you and finding that fleshy patch against your inner walls that had you shaking and panting. Two of them pushed inside of you, your panties ruined and forgotten against your thigh. He wasn’t gentle. Each move of his hand was a satisfying jab into your pussy, jolts of hard pleasure racing up your spine. And his thumb was just as merciless. He twirled it in tight circles across your sensitive clit, the bliss turning hot under your skin.

“Stop, stop, please stop, it’s too much!”

He knew the words were a lie, he could tell by how your legs were shaking.

You were Kuroo’s favorite instrument to play, he knew your melodies of ecstasy by heart. You might be able to cull him with that siren’s voice of yours, but he could string you along no other man could.

Your slick was dripping against his fingers now, each squelching push of his fingers had you pressing farther into him. His cock was nestled perfectly between your ass cheeks and each convulsion of your body, every clenching, stimulated him just as much.

“Fuck, no, no, you have to stop, Tetsuroō, please!”

“Shut. Up.”

His hand squeezed tighter around your throat, your eyelids fluttering at the increased loss of vision as your oxygen flow waned.

Kuroo watched you in the mirror, watched how your stomach was tightening, your thighs clamping together, knees buckling together from his invasive touch. You could see him watching you behind your closing lids, could see his smirk growing like a weed in a garden.

You felt his fingers begin to curve inside of you, wrist twisting to get the perfect angle. You were gasping, trying to catch short breaths beneath his hand before your inevitable fall.

“T-tet—”

You came hard and fast, the pleasure so blinding that you slumped within his hold, knees dropping to where the only thing holding your body up were his hands. Your cunt was aching, now cinching his fingers inside of you almost painfully. You cried out, sobbing at the intensity of it all, tears pricking at your lashes. Your body was humming, buzzing, almost like you’d left your skin and were hovering above your body in a cloud of euphoria.

He kept pushing his fingers inside of you, thumb never ceasing against your clit.

“Stop! Stop!” you were screaming it a little too loud now, if someone were to walk by your dressing room, they’d hear you. Kuroo’s hand flew to your mouth, finally giving your neck a reprieve from his monstrous grip. You exhaled shakily into his palm, your body calming down as his hand between your thighs came to a halt.

“I’m not stopping, kitten. No one could stop me now. I think your filthy little body is finally warmed up enough for my cock, what do you think?” his voice was husky against your ear, breath fanning into your hair.

“N-no! Anything but that, please don’t, Tetsuroō, please, I’m sorry!”

Your words were muffled against his palm, tears now streaming into his hand.

You didn’t expect that you could actually get yourself to cry—were you truly scared? Or had you fallen deeper into your role than you expected?

Kuroo paid your sounds little mind.

Your body was weak as he pushed you forward, hand releasing your face to grab the back of your head as he pressed your face into the vanity. Your legs were shaking, wobbly within your heels with your ass pressed into the air like this, your hands flat against the counter. You took a few moments to take deep breaths, your eyes focusing on the table. The ashtray was still lightly smoking from the half-smoked cigarette that had been shoved into it, your lipstick and earrings appearing like lost treasures drifting upon a sea out before you.

You heard the clinking of Kuroo’s belt buckle behind you, felt his hand secure itself into your hair, keeping your face smashed against the vanity’s surface.

Then his other hand was on your ass, kneading your flesh before smacking the rounded flesh. You winced, hissing between your teeth.

“You’re a worthless whore, I don’t know why I even bother with you anymore.”

That jab stung more than your smarting ass cheek.

You whimpered, closing your eyes as you felt his hand pull at your panties, once again shifting them to the side so he could access your weeping pussy, already spent from your first orgasm.

“Mhm, I can’t wait to see you cry when you're stuffed with my cock.”

“Stop this, please. I’ll do anything else you want, I-I swear!”

You felt the hot tip of his cock press against your folds, gathering your slick against his heated skin. You tried to angle your hips away, but Kuroo drew the back of your panties up into his fist, using them like reins to keep you in place.

“I don’t think you understand, kitten. This is what I want.”

He shoved his cock ruthlessly inside of you, the sharp pain of being spread racing across your nerves. You cried out, mouth hanging open against the cold countertop as his cock speared into your insides. But that pain quickly morphed into pleasure, his hips snapping up against yours with a ferocity that had moans spilling from your mouth even as you tried to stop them.

Your body was bouncing from his actions, ass slapping against his unbuttoned slacks as he pounded inside of you. There would surely be cum stains against the threads once he was done.

“Such a helpless little thing, aren’t you? Couldn’t stop me even though you tried.”

And you had tried. You told him you’d fight back if he ever wanted to play like this, and you expected that you’d be able to stave him off to some extent. But you hadn’t been able to. Every attempt to run, to move, to get him to stop, had been futile. He was too strong, his will too powerful for you to overcome. And that’s what had you quaking beneath him; you’d truly fallen prey to him, and you knew that if this ever wasn’t play, he would probably use even more force against you. You were helpless, save for the trust you had in him.

He kept a tight pull on your panties as he fucked you. His fingers were fisted around the fabric, pulling it tight against your skin, keeping it molded against your clit as his cock continued to barrel inside of you. Your walls were clamping down from all the sensations, fluttering with every thrust of his fat cock inside of you. You could feel that familiar, thick vein that ran along the underside of him rubbing against your pussy with every plunge. You felt stuffed, like your body was taking on more than you could handle.

“St-stop,” it came out with a moan.

“You know you love it,” he groaned, loud and deep and it made you shiver, “you love it when I treat you like the slut you are.”

You weakly threw your hands behind you, hoping to claw at him, to throw him off his game, but all he had to do was fist his fingers into the roots of your hair and tug to get you to stop. You screamed at the searing pain, not used to him pulling your hair so roughly. Your neck arched back at the force, lifting your breasts from the cool table to bounce with his thrusts. Your hands were slick with sweat as you trained to gain purchase on the vanity, lewd sounds pouring from your mouth with every thrust of him inside of you.

With his hand jerking your head back, now you could see him again in the mirror.

He was grinning, that smear of blood still staining his lips, his chin. He looked wild, black hair tousled even more than usual from your tryst. The sight of him had your heart racing, blood pumping even faster to where your bodies were joined together. You loved that look in his eye, like at any moment he was going to devour you and spit you back out spent and needy. You felt violated, wrecked, but you knew he wasn’t going to stop soon.

“You like watching, kitten? Like watching me stuff this pretty pussy of yours?”

“I hate you,” you spit the words out like venom, narrowing your eyes at him through the reflection.

“Say that again and I’ll slap you harder than I did earlier.”

Your cheek stung with the memory of his palm.

Before you could open your mouth again, he increased his pace, using the leverage of his hands in your hair and around your panties to slam you back into his cock as if you weighed nothing, as if you were nothing.

Curses painted your lips each time his cock stretched you again, and again, and again, as the angle he pulled you into had his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside of you. Your underwear was pulled even tighter than before, each jostle of your bodies making the fabric rub against your swollen clit. The feeling of orgasm was growing again, your senses constantly being propelled into a state of bliss every time he took a deep stroke inside of you.

“You think you’re special, don’t you? That’s why—fuck—you think you can tell me no? You’re just another whore to fuck,” he was growling, panting, “that’s all you are, you’re pathetic.”

His words felt like acid on your skin, burning you, heating you in all the wrong ways, but your body loved it, soaked up every curse and slight and turned it into boiling pleasure.

“Fuck, stop! I don’t wanna cum, I don’t wanna cum!”

“You’re gonna cum, kitten. Cum so that little pussy gets tight enough to milk my cock.”

You clenched your lower muscles, genuinely trying to avert the churning coil of pleasure inside of you, but all it did was make matters worse. Your pussy kept sucking him in, each thrust messy, loud, your ass slapping against his slacks and slick pooling down your thighs.

“Oh you feel so good, feel so fucking good squeezing me like that.”

That fresh praise had you coming undone. You felt him pull your panties even tighter against your curves, the fabric now almost cutting into your clit, and the sensation was all too much.

“Tetsurō, Tetsurō, stop, stop, I-I’m cumming, stop!”

It was more intense than before. You felt your whole body go numb, you watched as your mouth opened in a silent scream, every part of you trembling as the seams of sanity split with your orgasm.

He didn’t stop, not even as he came inside of you, ropes and ropes of hot cum filling up your sloppy pussy and spurting out onto his clothes, onto your thighs. He was unrelenting, keeping you within the throes of orgasmic bliss with his cock plunging inside of you over and over again. His force had your underwear splitting in his fist, threads snapping against your ass as the cloth broke apart.

The sound of your ripping panties had him slowing, now grinding his cock deep inside of your walls as you both came down from your highs.

When your bodies finally came to a halt, he let go of your hair, allowing you to catch yourself with your palms flat to the vanity. You hung your head, trying to even out your breaths and let your heart rate calm down as your vision unblurred.

You could hear him panting behind you, then finally felt his spent cock slip out of you, trails of cum and slick falling against your thighs.

You finally began to move, reaching between your legs to pry the remnants of your panties away from your cunt, letting the ravaged fabric fall to the floor where the remains of your dress still lay.

“Kitten?” Kuroo’s voice was soft, hands even more gentle as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, “are you okay?”

“Fuck,” you groaned, straightening your back to look at him, to fall into his arms, “that was...exhiliarting.”

He pressed tender kisses into your neck, tongue soothing over where he had bitten you earlier.

“God I fucking missed you,” he mumbled into your skin.

“I missed you too.”

You turned in his arms, pressing your weary body against his chest, feeling the sweat that had cooled into his white dress shirt. He kissed you slowly, deliberately, the taste of iron still present from his split lip. You embraced him, kissing him back with the same kind of easy passion.

“I need a drink after that,” you mumbled against his lips.

“I need new pants.”

You stepped back and looked down at his black suit trousers, finding them all kinds of soiled with creamy cum. You couldn’t help but laugh, the heaviness of your earlier actions breaking with the sound of your giggles.

“You normally keep spare clothes in your car, right? In case they get all bloody? Let me get dressed and I’ll go get them for you.”

You bent down to gather your own ruined clothes, wadding up the fabric of that beautiful dress and dumping it in the bin. You heard Kuroo mutter something about buying you a new one as you sifted through the small closet in your dressing room, slipping on a short cocktail dress and a fresh pair of panties to catch whatever cum was going to continue to leak out of you tonight.

He was smoking another cigarette as you left him behind in your dressing room to fetch him a new pair of pants, car keys in hand.

The music of the jazz band was loud as you meandered back and forth between the nightclub. You realized that no one could have heard you screaming over the sound of the plucking bass and the shrill of the trumpet.

You hurriedly returned to your dressing room, pants in hand.

You cleaned Kuroo’s lip with a damp cloth as he slung on his fresh pants, the cigarette now between your lips as you did your best to clean the blood from his face.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have bitten you so harshly.”

“Don’t worry about it, made it feel real. I can’t believe you didn’t call the safeword.”

He plucked the cigarette out of your mouth once he was done buckling his belt, grinning despite the clear cut on his lip.

“I told you I wanted to play along.”

You flicked off the lights to your vanity, grabbing his hand to pull him from the room.

The two of you found empty stools at the bar, Kuroo ordering your favorite drink as a few patrons wandered by to compliment you on your earlier set. You leaned your chin into your palm, keeping your eyes on the handsome, wondrous creature next you. You never knew what each encounter would consist of whenever he came around, but you felt yourself falling deeper into his web every time he fucked you. But you were still a little afraid of his world, but knew you’d be on the mafia’s doorstep if he ever asked you to be.

You thanked the bartender as your drink arrived, holding the cool glass in your hand.

“I think tonight deserves a toast, don’t you?”

That catlike grin was back on his face, amber eyes glowing with mischief.

“Mhm, what to, Tetsurō?”

He dipped his glass closer to yours, the rims kissing together.

“To being daredevils.”

Taglist:

@thirsthourdemon @tomurasprincess @badtimechara @present-mel @sgoldberg1997 @donica95 @hi-itsbonny @linestrider @shoutosplaything @kyberhearts @dhyaena @heyybrittannia @thisisthehardestthing @presmiic @kittifer @lemonsqueexx @iwaizumi-chan @kitten-on-ecstasy @dekulover @thatpeachybandgirl @skincrepe @whats-her-quirk @littlewhitefairy7777 @unboundbnha @tinitimesims125 @disasteren @misfitgirlwrites @tsum-samu @pineappleinmyass @nk-echi @wei-wuxian-wangji @sheneeza @buferfliz @marifujioka @bbyspiiice @deathcab4daddy @tenyacakebby @sadgirlsupremacy @hosino-a @donthurtmeimbaby @thingsladyjazzloves @bakarinnie @super-spooder

#thesmutpilecollab #Kuroo Tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo x you #tw: consensual non-con #mafia!au #mafia au #haikyuu!!#hq fanfic #haikyuu kuroo #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #kuroo tetsuro

1K notes · View notes

reidyoulikeabook · 3 years

Text

How The Team Figure Out You’re Together

These are the first criminal minds drabbles i’ve ever written so please go easy on me! So these are ‘how the team figures out you’re together’ for: Hotch, Spencer, Morgan, and Emily.

Summary: With a team of profilers around, it’s only a matter of time until at least one of them figures out you’re together. This is how you give yourselves away.

Warnings: Some short and non-specific references to drugs and case-violence. Gender neutral reader in all cases except Emily’s (happy to adapt this if wanted!)

A/N: this is a new blog and i’m accepting requests so please feel free to fire any headcanon/drabble/fic requests my way :)

Hotch

With your jobs being what they are, there’s a need for a very clear boundary between professional and personal. So, at work he’s Hotch, Hotchner, sir. At home, he’s Aaron, babe, sir. It took some getting used to at first, there were some slips of the tongue at home when you’d shout “Hotch, dinner’s ready!” But, for the most part, you’d gotten pretty good at slipping into it with relative ease. To you, it’s kind of like they’re different people anyway. Stern leader Hotchner who barks commands is an entirely different person to deal with than Aaron who asked to borrow your pink fluffy socks while you watched a romcom last night (he said he had forgotten to do laundry, but you had your reservations about whether that was true, not that you blamed him).

It’s a Wednesday morning and you’re all sat on the jet, having been called out to a pretty gnarly case in Idaho.

Hotch is making himself a coffee when the plane jerks and you all go flying and he trips sideways and

You’re shouting “Aaron!” in a concerned tone before it even registers that it’s left your mouth

And Morgan’s looking at you with that shit-eating smirk on his face, quirking his eyebrow as if to say ‘Aaron? Did you just say Aaron?’

Hotch is more flustered than anything, he’d thankfully already set down the pot and the coffee he was holding wasn’t too hot so he’s just wiping himself off with napkins and trying to ignore the fact that Emily’s staring at him and his cheeks are a little more flushed than he’d like them to be

You try to play it off with a much more casual “Are you okay?”

He looks at you and nods, comes to sit back next to you but sits a little straighter in his seat and makes an exaggerated effort to talk to Dave

You and Aaron laugh about it when you get back to the hotel room together that night. He puts on an imitation of your voice and mimics the way you’d shouted his name, shaking his head, “You know if you’re going to react like that when I’m a cup of coffee that could be a problem in our line of work.”

You roll your eyes, “Well you’ve got a bullet proof vest for unsubs, I’m sure we can find something to protect your hands from the very real threat that is boiling water.”

He laughs, jostling you closer to him and kissing the top of your head, “So dutifully concerned. You got the worried spouse act nailed.”

“And on a plane full of profilers.”

“They won’t say anything.”

“No, luckily for you they respect you too much to mention it to you.”

They do mention it to him though. You manage to get past maybe another two weeks before you all go out for drinks together. Apparently, they had their suspicions, but your accidental ‘Aaron’ was all the confirmation they needed.

They’re all incredibly happy for you though. Which is nice, even if part of the reason they’re so happy is because it means they have something to tease you about.

Spencer

You and Spencer have been close ever since you joined, what with you both being the babies of the team. It bonded you together, that and the fact you got on really well.

He always comes to either you or J.J with problems, and lately he’s been leaning on you a lot more.

But nobody really thinks all that much of it, J.J’s just had Henry and Spencer probably doesn’t want to worry about bothering her with his problems. That’s what everyone chalks it down to.

Until you’re on a case that involves drugs. Spencer’s a little on edge throughout the case and you stay with him throughout. You bring him coffees and ask him questions to help keep him distracted, stay late with him so you can focus on narrowing down the letters that have been sent in by the unsub. You don’t know all that much about handwriting analysis but you play it off as just providing a second set of eyes. Spencer really appreciates that.

Like he really appreciates that. That you easily play off your concern for him as just you helping with the case. It’s said with such ease and so convincingly that he almost believes it and that takes the pressure off, makes him feel less like a burden.

He manages to keep himself together while you work the case. You keep a watchful eye on him, not suffocating him or hovering, just making sure he knows you’re close by.

And everybody thinks you’re just being a supportive friend, because J.J is there to lend a hand too.

It’s not until the end of the case, when the unsub has been caught, interviewed, everything is wrapped up, that he lets himself fall apart a little.

You’re headed back to the hotel room you and Emily have been sharing, when you come back to find Spencer stood outside of it.

He opens his mouth to speak but the words don’t come out.

“It’s okay,” you say, taking a step to close the gap between you, “Can I?”

He nods.

You wrap your arms around him, holding him just the right amount of tight. And he practically falls into your arms, clasping your body to his. His eyes squeeze shut and this look of contentment. The tension in his body releases for the first time in days. You have one hand resting on his back, holding close to you. The other is smoothing down the errant curls of his hair.

“I’m so proud of you Spence,” you murmur, “I’m so proud of you.”

Emily gets off the elevator and, yeah maybe it’s not such an unusual sight to see you embracing. Unusual for Spencer but after a difficult case like that it’s more than understandable.

No,it’s when he opens his eyes slightly that it clicks for her.

The safety he feels, the warmth, the trust, everything that’s conveyed in his eyes. It’s a look of a man who knows he’s home.

Morgan

You’re pretty sure that everybody on the team at least knows that Morgan has a crush on you.

He’s never really been very subtle about it in all honesty, he’s been incredibly protective of you since you joined, has gone out of his way to make you feel included and make you laugh and just take care of you however he could.

Somehow you were the only person who hadn’t realised how he felt about you.

And when that changed, after a particularly tough case when you leaned into him and he looked at you and you got a little too close and he kissed you and…

Well, after that, you did kind of see what he meant by “Not being sure how much more obvious he could be about it”

It’s after your fourth sleepover together that he says it, “Wanna ride into work together?”

“And people will think we’re coming in together becaaaause?”

Baby, everybody knows I’m crazy about you.”

“Yeah they know you’re crazy about me, I think I’ve done a little bit better a job keeping myself together.

He rolls his eyes, he knows you’re right and it equal parts irritates and impresses him that you’re the youngest of them all, have the least experience, and somehow have managed to act like nothing has even changed between you the past few weeks.

Even though it has, by a lot.

“Come on, please?”

You have to give in to him then because he looks at you so softly and with so much love. And you do want to put him out of his misery of having everybody at work thinking he’s pining for someone who doesn’t have any idea about it.

It’s just fun seeing how frustrated he gets at how well you’ve kept it together.

Luckily it’s just a day of being stuck at the office with paperwork, you only got back from a case two days ago and the serial killers of America seem to be allowing you one kindness.

Morgan has his arm around you from the moment you hop out of the car.

“I thought you wanted to tell the team?”

He chuckles, kissing the top of your head, “I want to tell everybody.”

But he’s happy, he’s smiling. So you let him steer you inside, with his arm around you. He greets absolutely everybody you pass whose name he knows, and one guy whose name you don’t know but he claims ‘either works in homicide or sex crimes and definitely spends way too long staring at your ass whenever he drops by.’

Emily, Rossi, and Spencer are all sat at their desks when you come in.

“Good morning,” He greets loudly, making sure to get their attention.

“Morgan!” You chastise him.

Emily grins when she looks up and spots you, “Well look who finally made his move.”

“Two weeks ago actually,” he corrects, “I just wasn’t allowed to show it off before now.”

“Even better, Hotch owes me 20 bucks.”

Emily

Neither you nor Emily are out at work. And that’s fine. Really, you like it better that the rest of the team doesn’t know this aspect of your business. If anything, it makes it easier. You two can head home from a night at the bar together, or share a hotel room, or grab breakfast together in the mornings without raising any suspicion at all. Heteronormativity has very few perks, but you’re willing to admit that’s one of them.

It’s a Saturday, J.J and Garcia are off out for drinks. They tried to convince you to go to girls night but this was a Saturday night off. You had your own girls night planned.

You told them you were busy with an old friend, and Emily said she had a date (technically hers wasn’t a lie).

Dinner and wine quickly evolved into kissing on the couch though.

“You’re so pretty,” she mumbles against your lips.

“You’re prettier,” you correct her.

Your hands tangle themselves in her hair, she shifts so that she’s basically sat on your lap. The kisses are more urgent now, deeper, passionate. Her hand is on the small of your back, pulling you closer to her.

And then you hear it.

“Emily we know you’re home! The lights are on! Come and drink with us!” Comes the shout of Penelope, from the front door.

“Yeah Emily, we have tequila!” J.J slurs in support.

Naturally, being semi-tipsy adult women, you decide the best plan is for you to hide. So you creep up the stairs, deciding the spare bedroom is the safest, hiding behind the door.

Emily answers, meaning to get rid of them but before she can even react, Garcia is on her. Arms flung around her while she wails drunkenly about how happy she is that Emily’s back from her date.

“Wait! Where is he! You have sex hair!” Garcia, annoyingly observant even when hammered, notes.

Emily’s so busy being smothered in Garcia’s hugs that she doesn’t even notice J.J making her way up the stairs.

And that’s how you come face to face with her.

“_____!” she exclaims, “Wait, why are you here? This isn’t the bathroom. Garcia, ____’s here!”

And there’s no real way to explain your way out of that one. Not between Emily’s tousled hair and the fact you are hidden away upstairs. You fabricate some excuse about coming over after Emily’s date and how you’d been planning to call them to ask them to join. They’re just drunk enough, and polite enough, that they don’t press it. You know they know.

Neither of you are really too bothered that they know. Half the reason you hadn’t bothered telling them was dealing with a whole sideshow about it.

And if thinking you really don’t want them knowing stops that from happening? Well, you can both live with that.

#spencer reid fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfic #reid x reader #hotch x reader #derek morgan fanfic #morgan x reader #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotch x reader #derek morgan x reader #hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagine #imagine criminal minds #criminal minds x you #imagine spencer reid #imagine aaron hotchner #imagine derek morgan #emily prentiss x reader #prentiss x reader #imagine emily prentiss

670 notes · View notes

deepseavibez · 3 years

Text

Drowning Too Deep_3 || KNJ || JHS

��▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

-> Picture Source - Pinterest

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Drowning Too Deep [Namjoon x Hoseok x Reader]

Part 1 || Part 2 || 2.1 || 2.2 || Part 3

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Genre - Explicit Smut; established!Boyfriend(s) au; Poly oneshot; Punishment;

Summary - Alone at home, nothing but thoughts, pent up emotions, roaming fingers and a wild imagination... that is... until your boyfriends catch you in the act.

Warning - 21+!Only; Poly; Aftercare; Angst(Some);

Word Count - 4.2k

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

🎶- Never Not - Lauv

Right. That was all it was. It felt right. Slowly, you registered the voice - two voices, words of good, have you, with you.

A hand cradled your head, a secure hold.. The musk of Namjoon engulfed your senses, his chin resting at the top of your head, his arm reaching around you, closing you in with the body at your back. Flexing your hand you found your fingers inter linked with slender ones, rings laced in between - Hobi held strong.

You blinked slowly out of your haze and found yourself face to face with the smooth expanse of Namjoon’s chest, your nose in line with his sternum, on instinct you placed your cheek further against it, burrowing yourself against him.

An earthy giggle came from above you, the elation in his voice evident as he took in your actions.

Smiling against him you felt the ghosting of lips against your neck. Squeezing lightly at the fingers between yours you acknowledged your boyfriends, their comfort, their love, their presence.

You could stay here forever.

You felt fingers threading through your hair, careful fingers, a contrast to the demand they had mere minutes ago. Eyes fluttering shut you basked in the aftermath of your lovemaking. If you could bury yourself in their skin, you would. The need to be as close as possible visceral and insistent.

They usually did this, let you be as clingy as possible after sex. There was something about the moment, the afterglow, the headiness, being that close, feeling that loved -- it was incomparable.

‘You okay?’ Namjoon’s question felt far away, but you nodded in response. You felt like you were in a cocoon of warmth. Shifting your legs, you winced visibly at the tenderness in your body and couldn’t help the groan of discomfort that left you. Deciding it wasn’t worth it to move, you slackened further into their hold.

After a minute of stillness, shuffling at your back had you stirring again. Blinking away the bliss of the moment, you felt your hair being ruffled lightly, the hand leaving your head. You heard Hobi say something about running the bath as you opened your eyes again and made to sit up.

Craning your head toward his retreating figure, you swallowed the whine that threatened to leave your chest, his distance already having you feel cold and bereft.

It was illogical, he was just a few feet away, but you needed him next to you, here, touching and holding you, near you.

Namjoon clearing his throat caused your train of thought to come to a screeching halt. You turned to face him and found him sitting up, trying to hold your hand, which you now realized was fisted in the blanket under you. He smirked as you loosened the scrunched material from your hand and placed your palm on his waiting one. Bringing it up to his mouth, he placed a kiss on the inside of your wrist, eyes never leaving yours. Unable to help yourself, emotions threatening to take you under, you flung yourself into his open arms and buried your head against his neck.

'Hey, we're here, we're both here, we promise. We promised to always catch you. You’ll feel better after a hot bath.’ His voice was soft and reassuring, body warmth overwhelming, both exactly what you needed, arms strongly anchored against you, holding you as tightly as you held him. To feel so much, to be okay with being pushed, to trust blindly as you did, it was impossible to recover from it.

'I don't think I can live without both of you.' The confession came from deep within you.

His chest rumbled as he hummed against you, the sound coursing through your body. 'It's a good thing you won't have to.'

Words between you and Joon were never minced, which was something you would be grateful for. The letters forming the words that took up the space between your lips were never easy going conversation, but it consisted of truth and fact and every bit the promises you would both die to uphold.

The option to use a safe word during your lovemaking was a mere formality, you had no need to use it, despite their effort to openly communicate and make sure you knew you could.

Because the ties were never that tight. They were easily maneuverable. In the moment it would feel like exactly what you needed, control being taken away from you. But in a serious setting, if logic prevailed, you were the one with the most right, the most power to stop, the most control. But it was leverage you had no need to use.

The control they had of your body, and your heart and their access to it in their keeping, the addiction you had to keeping them happy was too good of a high, and the after was always worth it; if you loosened your ties, if you took that away from them it would upset the exchange of power.

And they never let you down, not once.

'I'm okay, I'll be okay.' You said more to yourself than to him, as your grip loosened.

He didn’t budge. 'I know. I need to feel you close to me too.'

Footsteps broke you out of your bubble as you listened to Hoseok get closer. 'Water.' Only after he said it did you realize how dry your throat was, you were parched.

Pulling away you held out your hand for the bottle. The water livened your senses up a bit, like fresh air, you could think a bit clearly, and it gave you a second to assess Hobi, you noticed him closely from the top of the bottle. His jaw was set, deep in thought, he was lost to the world for the moment.

Handing the bottle to Joon when you were done, you grabbed a hold of your other boyfriend and pulled him down beside you.

Moving to the edge of the bed, not without difficulty, you threw your legs over as your hand found his hair. He wouldn't meet your eye, so you pushed in your own way. Turning toward him, you curled your other arm around his front, it took a moment, but his arm wrapped around your waist, unconsciously bringing you closer.

He would adapt around you, he would always adapt around you.

The skin contact calming, you nosed at his shoulder. 'Hobi.' His name, a question, a pretty word, a cadence,as you implored your lover to open up. He was your Hobi, you needed to know what was bothering him, even if you couldn't fix it, no one in this relationship had to handle things alone

'Were we too rough?' You paused your petting at his serious tone.

Cocking your head to the side you took a deep breath before replying. 'Do you trust me?'

You would have expected a protest at the question, but he didn't, he knew better, he simply nodded in answer.

'And did I, at any time, use it?' You didn’t wait for him to answer. 'No, I didn't, and even if I had, it would have been something to talk about. We would have gotten through it.'

Looking over at Joon, you motioned for him to step in.

Almost immediately, he moved to close in on Hobi's other side, contributing to the third degree. 'So, why are you self-deprecating?'

Hobi turned to you before answering. 'You've never been… so far gone… after.'

You couldn’t deny that. It took a minute, it was different, but there weren’t any manuals for this type of thing. ‘But I'm okay now, see, maybe a bit clingy, or alot, but besides being absolutely weird at walking tomorrow, I love making love with you both,’ You didn’t want to say it, not when you were all so vulnerable, but his thoughts needed to be shut down. ‘Don't turn it into something we have to second guess.'

'Your demons have a place here Hobi, just not when they try to get between any of us.' You smiled over Hobi’s shoulder gratefully. Joon always had the right words.

'I just don't think I could forgive myself for hurting either of you intentionally.' He looked at our bare feet, unable to meet our eyes.

'It's a lot of responsibility to be the one with the reins in the relationship, but y/n and I trust you. I mean, if we hurt you, at any time, would you want us eating up inside because of it.'

‘Would you not let yourselves get eaten alive inside because of it.’ He glanced between us, but the question was rhetorical, we all knew the answer.

‘I think the point is,’ you intervened, ‘that we'd forgive each other, eventually, there's a lot of understanding here, of course we may love each other more than we should, but we give it our all.'

Placing his chin on Hobi, Namjoon rubbed his boyfriend's back and followed your lead, in reinforcement. ‘And during sex, we have safe words for a reason, outside the bedroom we have the word no, and we have trust enough to voice ourselves in any situation.’

‘My sweet, endearing man,’ you ran your fingers through his hair and hugged yourself to him. ‘This isn't your burden to share alone, we’re all in this relationship.’

‘We're fluent in Hoseok, especially when your brain is forming words you refuse to speak aloud.’ Joon’s palm gripped Hobi’s thigh, squeezing it lightly in reassurance. 'Respect our trust in you, and remember that you trust us to speak, even if it's for you.’

He didn’t answer, just resigned for the moment as he turned over to you and kissed your shoulder, eyes far away in contemplation. It was okay, he needed time. Things like this would take more time, more communication.

‘I think it might be time for that bath now,’ Joon whispered.

-----

🎶- Paris In The Rain - Lauv

Standing on the balcony rail, you stared out at the city below you. It was your favourite spot about this apartment, the bright lights, the noise, it made you feel alive, like you were a part of something bigger

‘What's down there?’

‘Everything.’

You looked up at Hobi as leaned on the rails next to you. He was shirtless, in plain black shorts, a coffee cup in hand. Questions like these weren’t his type, but he surprised you still.

As for the coffee, it was one of the first habits they had all synced up, coffee could wake all of you up, or help put you to sleep now.

‘It's distracting sometimes, all the noise. Wouldn't it be nice to get a change of scenery, peaceful, like a quaint cottage or a mountain range and hills, lush greenery.’

You made a face at Joon’s observation as you took the cup he offered to you. After sex coffee was always a good idea. Extra sugar, extra cream, something of a cherry on the top type of thing. It's good for vacation, but not for life.

‘The plus side is that our careers are here, our livelihoods, you guys know how to navigate yourselves through this city. And I've been having fun trying.’

‘Do you think you'd ever regret moving here? You were pretty scared, at first.’ Joon pulled you against him as he voiced the question, one arm around you, he pulled the shirt further down across you, his shirt as it flailed a bit in the breeze. You rolled your eyes internally, smiling into your mug, but the small action warmed you.

‘I was scared.’ You answered after taking a sip. ‘I still have some trouble. But, I just have to remember you two, remember that I will be coming home to my favorite people, I can't turn away from either of you, not after seeing inside your lives and your hearts, and how much I want to be a part of it.’

In fact, you remember the day you chose to be a part of it.

----------

🎶 - Blinded - Emmit Fenn

‘I'm gonna miss this view.’ Leaning against the window of the boys bedroom in the dorm, you looked out, over at the buildings, the birds, the lives taking place miles around.

‘What do you mean?’ You turned toward the sound of Hoseok’s voice. He was in his and Joon’s shared walk-in closet, putting away his clothes from the day before.

You limited your emotions behind your answer. The fears and anxiety of what was inevitable plaguing you since things had come so far. ‘I have closing contract negotiations next week - my time in Seoul ends in December. They have a flight booked for me the day before Christmas.’

‘Wait, you're leaving.’ Joon stood, from where he sat at the edge of the bed.

‘Don't look at me like that Joonie, we knew about this.’ He was the more logical of the two, if he didn’t see reason, this would be harder, for both of them. ‘I have family in America, friends, a different life.’ You tried your best to be reasonable, remaining calm and comforting. Some things in life were unavoidable. You decided you would be strong here, be rational, there was plenty of time to break down, to fall apart when you got...home.

Shaking your head away from your thoughts, you positioned a fake smile, ready to drive through this conversation, as fast as possible.

‘Can you really walk away y/n.’ You looked up at Hobi as he stepped into view. You expected this, the tight voice, the stoney face, Hobi was driven by emotion, he would take longer to adjust.

You turned away from them, you never could lie well, especially not to them, these men that held your heart. ‘It’s not complicated, Hobi. You both asked to see where it goes, and, well I have to go home.’ You tried not putting much weight behind the ‘have to’ but you would be lying if you hadn’t already searched for a reason to pull time, to extend things, to stay.

‘Move in with us.’

You whirled and stared at them incredulously. Joon for the statement, Hobi for not even remotely looking to amend it.

‘What, Joon, I don't live in Seoul, I-,’

Hobi crept toward you. His features stood out, jaw clenching as he grit out, ‘Tell me you don’t love me.’

He tugged your hand as soon as he was close enough and pulled you forcefully into him. You didn't answer him or look at him, you couldn't, the little resolve you had...no. You knew you had to leave. This wasn't your world. This wasn't your life. They didn't belong to you. You squeezed your eyes to trample down the surge of pain at your latter thought

‘Y/n.’ He caught your chin and made you meet his eyes. ‘Tell me. Tell me you don't love me.’

You felt hands at your waist, ‘Tell us, and we'll walk away from this conversation, right now.’

Trapped, you were trapped. These two beautiful males, they didn’t understand. You bit the inside of your cheek, you didn't have the luxury of crying, you didn't have the right to accept this. This was your life for crying out loud.

‘I-,’

‘And don't lie.’

Your fingers dug into Hobis' bicep at his tone.

‘I don't belong here.’

‘That's not what we asked you to say,’ Joon’s voice was shaky, his usually rich baritone, clouded with an unnameable emotion.

It didn’t need a name, for a long time now, you made it okay to not have a name.

‘Well where would this go, if I stay? What are you going to do? Announce to the world you have a girlfriend that you both share.’ Your voice rose with each word, your argument gaining momentum.

‘How do we do this? How do we go about life?’ You struggled in their hold, needing distance to do this, their hands on you vice-like, unshakeable at your outburst.

‘I can have sex, and I can love and I can let go, but if I stay, I want the whole damn deal. Can you give me that? Can you introduce me to your parents? Can you tell the boys? Can you explain it to your management? Can you give me kids? Can you tell the world about us?’ Your voice broke, ‘’Because I deserve to be number one in someone's life. And to be shown off and, and I can compromise so much, the distance and the tours and the time I have to spend missing you, but I cannot be just by the way. No one should be put through that. No one should be asked that, unless you want to throw money at them and call it a night.’

‘Y/n!’ You flinched visibly at the reprimand, not sure who it came from, as the blood rushed in your ears.

You swallowed harshly and used the little bit of anger you had left, if they could hate you, it would be easier for them. 'What?! It hurts! Of course it hurts. Yes, for fucks sake, I am in love with both of you. I want the long haul. I want forever. But I cannot ask that of you. I can’t ask for you both to only be mine.’

‘Why ask when you will be given freely. When have Hobi and I ever made you believe that you weren’t entitled to any of that.’

‘Stop it! You don't know what you're saying. This isn’t just a phase, this is going to bed and waking up together. This is arguing and making decisions together. This is respecting each other's financial and career choices. This is every day, every moment, it's everything.’

‘Y/n. Hobi is my life partner. He is my soul-mate. I have loved him and I can survive because I know I'll always have him. But I can't live without you. I can't breathe unless I know I have access to you.’

‘We.’ Hobi amended.

‘We can't live without you.’ You could feel Joon’s soft smile at your back, alleviating the tense atmosphere slightly, as he followed his boyfriend’s unspoken order.

‘Baby, look at me, talk to us. Come on, make this work, make us work - we can.’ Hobi’s hands around you were demanding, as he coaxed, holding onto you tightly, as if you might disappear at any moment.

‘I can't. I, if I look at you, I can't be strong, I can't hold off, I won't be able to look away.’

‘Because you know we care. Because you know we want to be yours. Everything else is everything else.’

‘Joon, you’re making this hard.’

‘No, y/n, you are.’

‘You will remember me, that I was here, that we made the best memories,’

‘We can make more.’

‘Hobi, please be reasonable.’

‘’We know it’s a lot, but this, this isn't just for now, this is, for however long you will have us, this is for as long as you love us and we love you, fingers crossed it’s for a really really long time.’ Hobi’s lips found your forehead, as if he couldn’t help himself.

‘Do you think you will regret it someday.’ Even your whisper was forlorn.

‘You?’ He huffed, the sudden movement jerking all of you against each other momentarily. ‘I can't think straight when you're not near me, it's even worse when you're in the same room.’

‘I think a part of me woke up when I met you, and then wanted to stay awake when I realized I didn't want you to leave, that was months ago.’ Joon could make anything sound poetic, you thought.

‘A violent part of me wanted to lock you in a tower and keep you there, for us, all to ourselves. 'There was absolution in Hobi’s voice. 'You're a bit insane, in a good way, and courageous and you see the world differently and you watch spongebob of all things,’

‘Not to mention you drink coffee at night,’ Joon chimed in, ‘We want it all.’

‘I won’t stop. Work. Travels. Experiences. I have wants, needs, a lot to learn and do and I have some of the worst days’

‘All of it, we want all of it.’ Joon hugged your back as his chest rumbled against you at his declaration.

You were a goner, all because you didn't have to be on guard with them. There was always some sort of control involved in existing. From emotions to urges and choices. Sexuality even.

But here they were, asking you to be yourself, pummelling those walls down with sheer will and determination, demanding you be as y/n as possible, even if it made life a little more difficult.

‘Me?’ You looked up at Hobi, willingly meeting his eyes, letting him see how deeply embedded they were within you, searching for hesitation, for any sort of reluctance. ‘Me.’ You repeated to them both, a statement, a chance to back out, before anything else was said.

‘You.’ Joon replied with confidence.

‘You.’ Hobi said, solidifying it.

‘Us?’ You assessed the word as it fell from your lips, a stick against a stone, a spark being allowed to ignite.

‘Us.’ Firm fingers at your waist, as the whisper of a sound came a hairsbreadth from your ear.

You closed your eyes, sending a prayer to the sky, that this was a good choice, that what you wanted couldn't be so bad, that you wouldn’t wake up one day to two males that realized they were too good for you, because they were, you knew that.

You wrapped your hands around Hobi’s back, bringing Joon with you at your back.

You felt the tension ease out of both men, letting out breaths they didn't know they held.

‘Here.’ Hobi’s voice was authoritative, unrelenting.

‘Here.’

----------

🎶 - Paris In The Rain - Lauv

A kiss at your neck broke you out of the memory, the soft spot, known and well used by the man you currently rested against. ‘Where did you go?’

Leaning into his hold, you looked out toward the city, ‘Here. Us.’ You reached out and pulled Hobi into you and Joon, a soft smile gracing your face as you answered. ‘Forever.’

‘I guess, it just makes sense, something about it, just is, I just, love who I am here.’ You meant it. You felt a puzzle piece slot into place when you let yourself be talked into a life with them.

‘We get it. Anywhere with you just feels right.’ Hobi pecked your cheek and ran his fingers through yours.

‘Hobi can be under any moon, any set of stars, anywhere, as long as it's with y/n and Joon.’

You smiled at the third person statement. You considered before asking your next question, holding tighter to Namjoon’s arms around you. ‘Do you think, you’ll ever stop loving me.’

Hobi dropped his head in a giggle, very used to this question.

‘Maybe when the lights go out in the city.’ Joon's sincere answer was so like him; he was always patient. ‘When the music stops playing from the numerous ads across the buildings-.’

‘And when hell freezes over.’ Hobi added as he smiled at you.

His contagious smile formed a mirror on your face. Right then you remembered you would never get tired of moments like these, post sex or no sex, you would never get enough of them. You had yet to regret leaving your old life for a new one. You hadn't stopped falling in love with them daily.

Stars above you, the black night sky engulfing your forms like a blanket, it was a pause to the endless possibilities surrounding your lives together. You weren't sure if it would always be like this, but right now, Namjoon’s heartbeat at your back, Hoseok next to you, nothing else in the world mattered.

‘I am going to have a serious issue with you touching yourself when we aren’t here though.’ A nip at your ear reaffirmed the statement. You just took another sip of your coffee.

‘Y/n.’ Hobi chastised. Oh no, you were about to be double-teamed.

You kept the mug at your lips, making your eyes wide over the mug. You pointed to it, busy drinking coffee, not talking about this.

‘Y/n.’ They exclaimed consecutively, pulling out of Joon’s hold and you rushed into the lounge, but not before one of them grabbed a hold of your shirt. You squealed in surprise.

Thinking fast, placing the mug on the nearest surface, you pulled the shirt over your head and ran, buck naked away from them.

‘You are so done when we get a hold of you!’ Joon shouted.

‘You’ll have to get a hold of me first.’

Laughter could be heard from your apartment, laughter and squeals of a girl that laid it all on the line, for a new life, for two smart, talented men that she had found halfway across the world; laughter that carried out the balcony to the city below, laughter of a relationship finding its way in Seoul.

Part 1 || Part 2 || 2.1 || 2.2 || Part 3

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

92 notes · View notes

teabunnypaws · 3 years

Text

Welp.

I did it.

What makes it WORSE? The fact that while writing one Hawks x Reader fic, I got distracted and wrote a WHOLE ASS DIFFERENT FIC. I don’t really have a beta reader, so I edited it as best I could and just..be gentle with me yall. This is my first fic in 10 years oof. This is my first time writing in this POV so have mercy haha, I know it gets kinda messy toward the end but hopefully it’s not awful.

Unconditional Love (Hawks x Reader)

Summary: You (bunny themed pro-hero) and Hawks have found balance and understanding in your busy lives. Sometimes the greatest show of love is saying nothing and doing everything.

Word#: 4088

Tags: fluff, cuddling with no pants, fluff and MORE FLUFF, pet names (honeybun, baby bun, toasty bun), mentions of getting a tan, Hero Reader with Bunny Quirk, (If more tags are needed, just lemme know this is my first time posting like this so oof)

Txt: Baby?

Txt: Loooovebiiiird~

Txt: I miss you 💕

You smiled as you sent the text message, comfortable in bed, your teeth biting softly at the corner of your lip. Your long ears gave a small flick as you basked in the cool of the bedroom. It was lit only with dim fairy lights, the sound of the standing fan nearby rumbling through the air, soothing you further as you cuddled up in your sleep shirt. It had been a long day, and you had just gotten back from a grueling two week deployment. Your shoulders hurt, your calves were killing you...which was saying something considering your quirk.

Unlike Rumi, you were built for speed rather than punishing power...but there were days where even you were pushed to your limits and this had been one of them. After a quick small meal and a hot shower, you could finally unwind for the weekend, a gentle smile on your face as you glanced over to Keigo's pillow next to you.

You had come home with your heavy duffel on your shoulder to be met by a bright eyed and apologetic Keigo in the doorway. He helped it off your shoulder and peppered you in kisses as he gathered you to him, fully decked out in his hero gear, visor pushed up into his hair.

You basked in the warmth of his body around you, the softness of his wings as they brushed against the part of your back exposed by your costume. The sensation of their silkiness against your skin made you shiver a bit, your tail giving a small wiggle of delight. His hands were also so warm, soft in pliant leather that rested on your hips, fingertips brushing softly inward as though he wanted to pet your tail. It was one of your favorite things about him, how he always savored you like that.

"Sorry honeybun, I gotta fly. Duty calls y'know? He had murmured against your lips, his eyes worried and gentle as he regarded you. But instead of what he had seen before with others who had been in his arms, the hurt and sadness, your eyes met his with a gaze that held one thing that never failed to take his breath away: understanding. Your hands slid up to cup his cheeks, pulling him down for a kiss, your lips met softly, sweetly.

His eyes fluttered closed and his shoulders relaxed, arms and wings tightening about you just a moment as he soaked you in. A soft sigh pulled from you both as you parted, a small smirk curling your lips as you reached up and carefully pulled his visor down settling it in place.

"Stay safe out there hotshot."

The smile that lit up his face rivaled the sun and his wings ruffled in his joy. "You got it baby bun." He gave you a playful wink and that trademark beautiful smile "I'll be back soon~" and out he had gone, leaving you to unpack and settle in.

You weren't expecting a reply right away, As Keigo or rather..Hawks, tended to be busy with his patrol. Not that you minded. Both of you were pro heroes and even though you were nowhere near as busy as he was, there were times where you both had to bid each other goodbye for the sake of duty.

Sometimes weeks at a time.

You didn't bother to tell him where you were when you had to leave. He *knew* where you were thanks to the feather you wore around your neck pressing to your skin. Not only did it let him know where you were but, it gave Hawks the feeling of your resting heartbeat, the hum of happiness in your chest as he began to reply.

It was a bond unlike most had ever seen. The two of you tied at the hip, but at the same time, never impeding the work the other did...even if it meant being apart for long stints.

Apart, but never alone~

Your eyes sparkled when you saw his reply:

Lovebird: I miss you too baby bun~

Txt: Come cuddle me?

There was a pause then...a rather long one. One long enough for you to pull up your emails and flip through before his message popped up on the top of your screen.

Lovebird: I'll be there as soon as I'm done ok? Keep the bed warm for me~

Txt: Fiiiiiine~

And you of course attached a picture of yourself pouting in the low light of the room. Your hair strewn softly about your pillows, ears lowered and bottom lip poked out. To put the cherry on top you were wearing your favorite sleep shirt: an oversized Hawks merchandise shirt the same color as his wings of course; the feather keepsake he gave you resting on its chain and settled about your heart.

There was no text message as a reply, the feather giving all the answer you needed. It shifted and moved to brush against the curve of your cheek and you smiled, gathering it to your lips and murmuring softly against the vane. "Love you…" Your eyes closed, the gentle fluffiness brushing against your lips, and you could almost feel his thumb against them.

It would be a good five hours before you heard the slight rustle of the balcony window and the familiar sound of your boyfriend clambering through. You shifted, rolling over and regarding him in the low light of the room as he stood, looking over to you with gentle loving eyes.

"Hey (y/n), I'm home honeybun…" His voice was still cheerful, relieved to be home but low with his exhaustion. He didn't look too worse for wear, no huge chunks of missing feathers or anything like that, but that tiredness hung heavy on his frame like a wet coat.

"Welcome home…" you replied, shifting on your side to watch him with a small sleepy blink. Hawks sighed, giving a small smile before pulling his visor off and placing it on the bedside table, his work phone was tugged from his pocket, plugged in and plopped next to it haphazardly.

His boots and socks were the next to go, the crimson winged hero too tired to put any sort of effort into stripping out of his work clothes in any sort of sexy manner, but to you?

He was gorgeous.

The slight flex of his shoulders as he hovered his feathers out of the way to wriggle his coat off was downright sinful, your eyes watching as he dropped it on the floor. The next off was his shirt, tugged off over his head, yet another tired sigh coming as he let it join his coat. One hand coming to smooth his hair back as sharp teeth found the end of one gloved fingertip biting and pulling the leather to remove it and let it drop, soon to be joined by its mate on the ever growing pile. The buckle of his pants came undone and you would have offered to help him with that if he didn't look so drained. Plus...you were still tired and sore yourself.

And just like that...Hawks was gone. Shed and discarded on the floor and put aside for the time being.

Left in his boxers, Keigo flopped face down onto the bed with a fluff of red as his feathers settled back into place. He pushed an exhausted groan into his pillow, not noticing that his dramatic belly flop had made you bounce slightly.

"Hey, we just got this mattress..don't go breaking it just yet." You teased.

"Baby bun..if I wasn't so exhausted I'd show you how I'd really break this mattress and you know it." Came the smothered reply and he laughed softly, gently rolling over to face you with his arms out. "C'mere…" his eyes were honeyed amber, warm and so inviting, even in the low light of the room.

It took less than a second for you to slot yourself firmly between those strong arms, nosing under his jawline while Keigo buried his face in your hair and took a deep breath. One wing draped over you, dropping you both into relative darkness and you hummed in contentment. His exhaling sigh came with slacked shoulders, his hand rubbing quick circles in the small of your back, just above your tail.

You pressed a smile to his neck and murmured softly "Slower please?" Your hand slid up his back in a lazy methodical way as a demonstration. "Like that?" You asked, loving the way his muscles felt below your touch. It was like a musician destringing an overtaut violin bow, another sigh heaved from his frame and he hummed lowly as he seemed to revel in being asked to relax his quickened pace.

"Sure thing babe….whatever you want.." he murmured, his hand shifting to a slow easy pace. Keigo smiled as he trailed his fingertips up and down your back, admiring the lines of your frame, and the softness of your skin under his merchandise. "Y'know...I love seeing you in that...wearin’ my colors...my name on you.." He said softly. "Looks even better on you than before…."

"Oh yeah? Why's that hm?" You asked, nosing gently under his jawline. Your nose twitched as an unfamiliar cologne hit it...a smell that you weren't used to being on him, but nonetheless it was sublime. Woodsy and warm, slightly sweet and undeniably Keigo.

"Probably because you're so tan now...heh, I knew you said you were running around outside a lot and you weren't kidding." He leaned back and grinned at you. "My little toasty bun, I'm gonna eat you all up~" Keigo growled playfully, biting gently along your shoulder in a few places with a soft noise in the back of his throat.

"Ah! Keigo~" you squealed and squirmed, laughing against his neck. "Yeah I'm a toasty bun, and you smell nice. New cologne?" You asked, nuzzling eagerly back into the crook of his neck. Hm..no not there..

A slight tip of your face where you could feel the soft brush of his facial hair against the bridge of your nose, the smell much stronger there. You hummed your delight, rubbing back and forth, the slight scratch of his hair soothing you, allowing your ears to tip back.

"Nah, new face wash. Rumi got it for me..I wasn't sure if I liked it, but if it gets *this* reaction, I think I might just have a winner on my hands." He said with a playful waggle of his brows, earning a laugh from you against his neck.

"Yeah I'd say so." You hummed, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, settling your foreheads together. You simply paused there...soaking it all in, his presence, the softness of his breath against your lips, the feel of those cool slightly calloused hands brushing against your skin and hiking the back of your shirt as they went.

"Lovebird?"

"Hm?" Keigo replied, peeling open one eye to regard you with a small smile. "What's up (y/n)?"

"I love you." You said softly, giving a small peck of your lips to his, earning yourself a grin. As he began to open his mouth to reply, your own grin flicked over your face as you began your assault.

"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.." Again and again, you murmured the phrase, each time punctuating it with a small quick kiss on a different part of his face. You could feel his shoulders shake with laughter, his head tipping to try and return the assault, but at the moment, you had him on the ropes.

All he could do was accept your love and laugh as again and again, it was peppered into his skin with gentle affection and insistent whispers. "I love you. I love you. I love youuuu~" You cooed, the last one given with a veritable rain of kisses leaning up over him, pausing to linger the last one at his lips, allowing you to look into his eyes.

So beautiful they were...like melted honey as they met your own. His breaths came in soft little puffs, quickly warming hands settled against you and he chuckled. "Well that was quite a statement. Allow me to retort~" A wicked grin crossed his face and he used a bit of leverage to roll you halfway under him, not being able to hold back a laugh as your squeal of delight filled the air.

His kisses had no words, but none were needed as he peppered them all over your face and neck, your hands clutching about his neck and shoulders as giggles pulled from you nonstop.

Oh that sound.

That beautiful...beautiful sound. All for him. One of the few reasons why this hero gig was worth it; to come home and settle next to you. What made it even better was that he could feel it. Every rippling vibration seeping into him through the feather you wore and he pushed up on his hands, looking down at you.

All the genuine joy, all the happiness, it was for him, caused by him. Keigo...not Hawks...this precious adoration reserved for who he was...and not who he allowed others to see him as.

It nearly brought him to tears.

You took a moment to breathe, your giggles dying down, tiny tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you looked up at him with sheer adoration in your gaze. Your hair was messy and spread over the pillow below you, your hands slipping off him to rest gently against the mattress.

Your shirt had shifted during the assault, slipping slightly down one shoulder, bearing the soft plane of skin to him and the sight of you made his heart ache in the best way. A sweet twisting fullness that left him nearly breathless as he watched you, his wings relaxing softly along with his shoulders.

Confused at his unusual silence, you looked up at him, giving a small quirk of a shy smile, feeling your cheeks warm. “What?” You asked, your voice soft and flustered. “Keigooo….What?” You insisted when your initial question got no reply, but instead a warm, loving smile.

"You're beautiful babybun...y'know that?" Keigo murmured, the feather around your neck lifting to trail its tip against your lips. "And it's a goddamn shame I'm so fucking exhausted." He laughed breathlessly, his eyes low and hungry in the dim light. A playful smile curled your lips at that and you pressed a kiss to the tip of his feather.

"That makes it a double shame then because trust me hot shot, you’re not the only one who’s dead on their feet. Soooo to me, that means we just have to get some sleep and who knows~" You grinned up at him then, a hand coming to brush against the afterfeather and up to where it attached to your necklace. You relished in the full body shiver he gave, his eyes fluttering closed, his teeth sinking slightly into the corner of his mouth.

"We might just be in shape to handle some…."

"Morning exercise?" Keigo offered, smoldering topazine eyes locked onto yours, his voice low and sultry. His wings were lifted high, flared slightly to subtly show off his plumage as his instincts demanded.

"Mhmmm~" you purred in return, letting your hand slip from the feather to gather him to you, giving a giggle at the small noise he made at being pulled out of his display and rolled back onto his side. His wings gave a quick flap, adjusting to keep himself from laying on them, and he give a low chuckle.

“Well in that case, let’s get some sleep..You know me (y/n), I love to help you stretch those beautiful legs of yours~” Keigo teased, his hands sliding down the soft curve of your exposed thigh to your knee and back up.

You hummed softly in your delight as you shifted, rolling over onto your side to stretch your arms out comfortably. It always confused you honestly, how romantic shows and movies would have people cuddling to sleep facing one another. The first time you’d tried that with Keigo, your arm had gone horribly numb and you couldn’t sleep worth a damn.

This though? Your back snug against his strong chest with his arm draped over you at juuust the right spot, one found through MUCH trial and error and many complaints about his forearm digging into your ribs. This was perfect...and you sighed comfortably, your ears lowering as you heard Keigo shift, slipping his arm through the slot in the special pillow you’d asked support to make for you. This way his arm didn’t go numb and you got to have a nice pillow to sleep on.

Despite being heroes, you both were still human and there were limits to what you could tolerate. Comfort was a necessity when it came to your lives, and needless to say, you two had cuddling down to an -art-.

“And can I also say that I’m not a religious man by any stretch of the word, but I thank whatever deity is listening that you hate wearing sleep pants?” Keigo continued, a little huffing laugh coming from you as you wiggled your tail against his stomach earning a laugh from him as he scooted back just a bit to avoid the attack.

“H-hey! I’m just being honest!” He whined, and you smirked over your shoulder at him as you grabbed the small remote on the bed and tapped it, turning the lights off and dropping the both of you into darkness.

“I know you are Keigo~ That’s one of the things I love about you..” You murmured softly, feeling him tense just a little before he smiled and hummed his agreement into your hair.

“Yeah? What else do you love about me?” he asked, his voice soft next to your ear.

“Hmmm well one of them is poking me in the butt.” You snickered, earning an embarrassed huff from him.

“Well that guy has a mind of his own, I’m not apologizing. He knows quality when he sees it.” Keigo snarked, smiling into your hair.

“Oh does he?” You smirked as you closed your eyes. “I love your heart...your laugh. How you absolutely suck at making pancakes.” The offended scoff that followed only made your smirk curl to a smile.

“I love how you complete me…I’d go on, but we did say we needed some sleep and if I don’t stop there we’ll be here until the sun comes up.” You sighed softly and you didn’t miss the slight tightening of his arm and wing around you.

“Aw honeybun, you’re gonna make me all sappy…” He pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, his eyes closing as he lingered there. “We complete each other y’know? You’re my missing piece...what made all this shit mean something again..” A deep breath and a sigh against your skin and he shifted, getting a bit more comfortable. “Sleep tight (y/n), I love you…”

“G’night Keigo..I love you too..”

Taking a deep breath, you sighed it out, Keigo’s warmth and his soft breathing against your ear combined with the steady hum of the fan and the quiet murmur of the city outside your window was your lullaby, pulling you comfortably into a deep sleep. The smile on your face never slipped away as you rested there...after all...you had some morning exercise to look forward to with your best partner~

Love...trust...

It was what held your relationship together through all of the nonsense that was going on in your lives. You knew of course about the league of villains, about what he had to do. Those big ears of yours weren’t just for show...and you still remember the fear on his face when you had told him about what you had known.

You had been on your patrol, (h/n) and Hawks, him in the air, you along the ground, but the two of you had settled on the roof of an abandoned warehouse for a break as the sun began to dip past the buildings. Moving to sit on the edge of the roof, you sighed and laid back on it, letting the wind ruffle your hair and the fur of your ears before you broke the silence.

“Hey Hawks?” “What’s up (h/n)?” “I’ve got a hypothetical for you.”

“Ooohoho? I do love a good hypothetical~ hit me.”

“So! Hypothetically, if someone finds out that someone they love is going deep undercover and having to do something that is diametrically opposed to what they stand for in order to protect the greater good. What do you think that someone would do?”

Your eyes had met and Hawks had an absolutely unreadable expression on his face, the fear in those topazine eyes and how he had frozen to the spot was something you had never seen before. Just like that, the roles had been reversed. The predator had become prey. He had been trembling and you of course had noticed, but your face had stayed calm.

“Well, seems like cat’s got your tongue Feathers, so….I’ll give my answer first and you can say yours.” You hummed, shifting to sit up and letting your legs dangle over the edge of the roof and you kicked them slightly, your ears perked as you admired the sunset which was quickly drenching the city in twilight.

“I think, that person...if they truly understood their loved one, would know what they have to do is important...and just because they might have to do something bad, doesn’t mean they like it..or that it changes who they are at their heart.” You mused, your fingers coming up to trail your fingers against the feather around your neck.

“And of course, they would understand that their loved one COULDN’T say anything because...well that kinda defeats the whole purpose of being undercover right?” You looked over your shoulder at him giving a sweet smile and a tilt of your head as you picked up the feather and held it gently to your pulse point.

“So of course, that person would never say anything...because that would only hurt their loved one and they would just do their best to be there for them and support them when they come back home. What do you think Hawks?”

Hawks continued to stare and then swallowed the dry lump in his throat as he tried to process just what the fuck you just said. You...you knew...how the FUCK did you find out?! His mind was rushing, trying to think of something to say, something to DO...what could he do?! Did Endeavor know that you knew?!

What took him off guard the most though, was the calmness that you looked at him with. Those (e/c) eyes of yours weren’t angry...weren’t betrayed.

Understanding and love...

That was all they held.

The feather at your throat, right over where the blood rushed, held such a poignant meaning to him that it nearly brought him to his knees. You knew how dangerous his feathers could be, how if he had to, he could end your life with a thought...and also...your heartbeat. It was calm. No indication of fear, of lying...which meant that you really weren’t going to say anything.

His tight posture slowly dropped and he gave a breathless laugh, his wings giving a slight shake as he adjusted them, his hands slipping into his pockets as he walked to stand next to you on the edge.

“That’s ah...one hell of a hypothetical there honeybun, but yeah...I think you answered it in a shot.” He chuckled, giving a slight scratch at his chin scruff, looking down at you and his shoulders lowering slightly.

“Yeah? Guess I’m getting better at them!” You giggled, lifting the feather to kiss the center of it before letting it dangle down as you stood and began to stretch yourself out. “I think that’s enough of a break hm? Wanna get back to patrolling?”

“Heh, sure thing~” His voice was the same happy go lucky chirp as always, but those eyes, you could see the relief in them as plainly as his wings. He now had a silent supporter, one who would be there no matter how much blood ended up on his hands and that was something he had never thought he would ever have:

Unconditional love.

#hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #hawks x you #keigo x you #bhna #mha x reader #bnha x reader #Tea Drabbles #hawks fluff #hawks x reader fluff #I highkey wanna see about working with a hawks VA to record this #just for SHEER SELF INDULGENCE

132 notes · View notes

daevastanner · 3 years

Text

Elucien: 20 lashes pt II

link to part 1 here

He should let her walk away from him.

He should remain in the corridor.

But her words keep replaying in his mind as she strides down the steps and out the front doors.

“You deserve better,” she had said.

And Lucien realizes… who was the last person to ever consider what he deserved?

For the life of him, Lucien can’t recall the last person, the last instance, where someone took his side.

Where someone stood up for him.

But Elain…

His reluctant mate.

She’d taken his side.

Lucien’s legs are suddenly restless, and he starts down the stairs and towards those double doors.

Out on the front lawn he sees Elain making a bee-line for the stone bench, that sits beneath a dogwood tree.

He nearly chuckles when she plunks herself down unceremoniously.

But then she’s frowning, cradling her hand in her lap. She is in pain.

Lucien hastens his stride to join her. That right hook she had thrown was piss poor. Her fist had been balled up tight, thumb tucked in. She probably jammed her fingers.

And the second punch to Tamlin’s shoulder certainly hadn’t done her any favors.

Lucien cautiously closes the distance between them with extreme caution.

It feels like he’s approaching an easily startled deer.

He wants her to know that he holds her to no promises. He is not taking her display of defiance on his behalf as consent. Lucien only means to help.

He expects nothing in return.

Lucien gestures to the empty space beside her. “May I?”

Elain doesn’t look up from her already bruising knuckles, but nods.

Lucien fluidly sits beside her, taking a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. “I can fix that. Your hand.”

She stills and Lucien curses himself.

He is searching his mind for an excuse to leave when Elain slowly offers him her hand.

It sits there for a moment, hovering in mid air. All Lucien can do is stare at it.

But the soft voice of the mating bond returns to him for the first time in a very long time, and urges Lucien to act.

Willing himself not to tremble, Lucien gently takes Elain’s hand.

It is warm and soft. It reminds him of her eyes.

He holds her fingers in both his hands, lips twisting as he runs a thumb across her knuckles.

“Is it… bad?” Elain asks. “It does hurt. But it doesn’t feel like I broke anything.”

“Can you try and move your little finger for me?”

Elain swallows then hisses as her pinky gives the smallest of movements.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs. “It’s a fairly common injury. Usually seen in drunken brawls.”

“I confess myself inexperienced with such injuries.”

Lucien chuckles at her quiet humor.

Her cheeks pink, Elain presses, “I’m assuming it’s not so grave an injury.”

Lucien meets her eyes and dares the hint of a smirk. “You may never garden again.”

To his surprise and delight, Elain laughs. A true laugh. She tosses her head back and the setting sun casts her hair a burnished gold.

Still, he doesn’t allow himself to hope that this amicability, this easy conversation, will ever evolve beyond this day. Beyond this moment.

He clears his throat as her laughter winds down. “This may tingle a bit,” he cautions.

Elain bobs her head, and Lucien holds her hand just a little tighter, focusing on healing those fractures.

“I didn’t know you had healing magic,” Elain says, a current of discomfort lacing her tone.

“Only the barest amount. No more than your standard fae.” He looks up from her slowly mending hand, meeting her gaze yet again. “You likely have some yourself.”

She hums in approval and the wrinkle between her brows smooths as Lucien finishes healing her hand.

He is reluctant to release it.

When will he touch her again?

When will they be this close again?

No.

He cannot allow himself to hope for that. He cannot allow himself to even consider the possibility.

With no small amount of effort, Lucien releases his hold on her hand.

His chest pinches when she doesn’t immediately withdraw.

Instead she lifts her hand from his palm and holds it to the sunlight, examining it curiously.

“Can you move your fingers?” Lucien asks (even though he knows the answer).

She wiggles her delicate fingers, and something primal in Lucien is pleased.

He has cared for his mate. He has made her feel better. He has healed her.

“I don’t regret it,” Elain says, still admiring her hand. “Hitting him.”

Lucien’s mouth is dry. He doesn’t know how to respond.

She drops her hand then folds both of them in her lap. Her brown eyes focus on the ground as though she’s seeking out an answer in the emerald blades of grass.

“I was just… so angry.” Elain sighs. “I’ve never been so angry in my life.”

He had seen it. He had seen the anger break out on her face. Had practically smelled it on her before she turned and marched into the manor.

And he recognized it. He recognized that feral animosity.

Elain had learned that someone had harmed her mate, and had felt that primal urge to defend him.

“It was like I was burning. It felt like my blood was… charged.”

Lucien nods and considers his next words carefully. “I am familiar with the feeling.”

Elain’s eyes snap to him, and he can’t tell if she’s curious or crestfallen. “It’s… it’s part of… what we share then.”

He nods again.

She sits a little taller, steeling herself. “It’s a part of the mating bond.”

Lucien fights to keep his jaw from dropping. For some reason it’s… staggering to hear her say those words. To hear her mention the mating bond and call it by its name.

“I thought I’d gone mad,” she murmurs. “It felt like I’d lost all control.”

Self-admonishment and guilt flicker in her eyes and Lucien feels a pang of sympathy…

…and again that primal urge to fix this, comfort her.

“No, you aren’t mad.” He didn’t dare hold her stare when he spoke the next words. “It’s white hot when it starts. Your blood roaring in your ears. Your heart thundering against your chest. It blinds you. You feel a need, a compulsion, to act.” Lucien folded his arms and leaned back against the tree, trying to appear casual though he felt anything but. “It takes root and you feel entitled to the rage, because… because the person who… who, erm…”

He doesn’t know how to say it without alarming her.

So she says it for him: “The person who you are bonded to?”

But she says it not as a suggestion.

She says it as a mercy.

To let him know that she is not afraid of him. Not afraid of the bond. He had, in keeping his distance, gained this much ground in her trust.

He continues, “Yes, you feel entitled to rage for that person, and that call to protect… it has to be answered. You think the only way it will fade is… is if you take action.”

“And it did,” she says. “It went away after I hit him…”

There’s an awkward pause and Lucien takes no time in filling it.

“And don’t forgetting spitting at him…”

A soft, wry laugh.

Silence that Lucien is again happy to fill.

“…and then hitting him again.”

Her laugh is a little brighter this time, and when she again meets his gaze her expression is… grateful.

He clears his throat, not wanting to allow himself the chance to savor this moment. To savor the way she looks at him without apprehension.

He doesn’t want her to run.

But he also wants her to know that she is free to.

It pains him to say it, but he forces himself to: “The bond causes many urges, but they are… more easily ignored than some may believe.”

It’s a lie.

But something like disappointment flashes across her face…

It’s just as quickly gone as it had arrived. “I see.”

Lucien feels something between them then. A sort of static thread anchored at the center of his chest. The place where he had felt that warmth spark all those years ago when she’d tumbled out of that cauldron and he had realized she was his mate.

And he suddenly notices that her dainty fingers are resting over her breastbone. Right where she might feel a similar sensation to the one he is experiencing.

This remarkable thread he’d never noticed till this day.

Lucien’s heart wrenches. Oily regret seepes through his veins at what can never be.

He debates telling her now. Telling her what he has planned to give her for Solstice this year.

The opportunity to break their bond.

Gods dammit he had just accepted that their bond was a sham.

He had just resigned himself to being without a mate.

He’d been training his mind for months not to go mad at the loss of her.

And then she had shown up today.

Looking like an angel.

Smiling at him.

Laughing at his jokes.

Wearing his earrings.

Defending him.

Letting him touch her.

Discussing the bond.

Her human heart, he realized, still existed there. It still beat. Fickle and volatile and full.

Did he dare unlock those doors?

Did he dare break the locks he had forged to keep her out?

Did he dare allow himself to dream again?

Did he deserve to?

“I asked you once,” Elain begins, her voice as fragile as a rose petal, “if you could hear my heart. You said you could not.”

Lucien nodded.

“Is the answer the same now?” she asks.

And he can tell that for whatever reason… Elain is hopeful his answer will be different.

But he cannot lie to her. He cannot lie to his mate.

“I cannot.”

The only sound is the breeze rustling the leaves, and Lucien’s blood pounding in his ears.

He remembers her response from before as though it was the rhythm of his own heart:

“No one ever does. No one ever looked—not really.”

Her expression then, so forlorn, so hopeless…

She did not wear it now.

Instead, Elain nods, and she seems almost resolute. As though she’s come to a decision.

He doesn’t dare consider what that decision may be. He doesn’t dare to hope.

And even still, as their eyes meet, he can almost hear what she’s thinking. Or at least he thinks so…

But you see me all the same, don’t you?

And he knows she can’t hear him, but he answers her silently: Yes, I do.

The easy silence continues and Lucien, for once, has no words.

“This Court is far too pretty for Tamlin,” she scowls.

And Lucien laughs, full bodied, at such a menacing expression on such a lovely face.

“You should tell him that.”

Elain balks. “I think I should ration my abuses towards him wisely. I’ve already punched him twice on this visit.”

“And spit at him,” Lucien adds wisely.

She laughs and Lucien is reminded of fox-glove flowers.

He is reminded of light and happiness.

The mating bond is the farthest thing from his mind.

Only Elain and her laughter remain.

Elain, her laughter, and the promise of maybe purchasing a new set of sheers for this year’s solstice gift instead.

#elain and lucien #elain archeron #elucien #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar headcanons

124 notes · View notes

tuiccim · 3 years

Text

TikTok Trend: #FirstDate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Billy Russo x Reader

Word Count: 1453

Warnings: Angst, language

Summary: A first date with Billy and a chance to check out Anvil.

A/N: Divider by @whimsicalrogers

TikTok Trend Series Masterlist

The next morning you are smiling at your phone as you walk to the kitchen to get coffee. Billy had sent a text saying, “Good morning, gorgeous. Look forward to seeing you tonight.” You know it’s a line, but you can’t help feeling flattered. As you round the corner, you run smack into Bucky. You drop your phone and Bucky swoops down to pick it up. He looks at the message still up on the screen. His eyes meet yours with a sad look before handing your phone back and retreating to his room. Your stomach twists, but then you straighten your shoulders and continue your quest for coffee.

Later that morning, you work on a video to post. “Hey guys! I have a date tonight! Help me pick a dress!” The TikTok video continued showing you modeling three dresses. “Okay, comment red, blue, or black! I’ll show the final look before I head out tonight.” You blow a kiss and send the video to the PR team. It was approved and posted within twenty minutes and your phone began dinging with notifications.

PR let you know an hour and a half before your date that the red dress had won. You got ready and set your phone up for a quick video. “Hey guys! The red dress won. Here’s the final look. Wish me luck!” You post the video, bypassing PR, and head to the elevator. Billy was going to pick you up at the front of the tower at your request. He had offered to come up, but you didn’t want another awkward encounter. Billy pulls up in a Rolls Royce Wraith. You smile and raise an eyebrow at him as you slide in the passenger side, “Hi.”

“You look gorgeous.” Billy smiles.

“Thank you. You look good, too.”

“I made an effort.” Billy jokes. He takes you to an Italian restaurant you had never been to before. A bottle of wine, a delicious meal, and lots of talking and flirting ensue.

“Tell me more about Anvil.” You encourage him and he launches into a full explanation of what they do and some of the jobs they’ve taken on. He’s enthusiastic in his descriptions of the company business and you enjoy hearing about some of the jobs. “Sounds like you enjoy the work.”

“I do and I take my business seriously, I’m very hands on.” He says. “What about your work?”

“I love it for the most part.”

“What parts don’t you love?” Billy narrows his eyes appraisingly at you.

“Sometimes Steve is a little too goody two shoes for me, I guess. He sees the world in black and white, good and evil, I see it in shades of gray. Sometimes good comes out of bad and bad things come out of good things. Steve doesn’t see it that way and it can occasionally cause friction between the two of us. I… I wasn’t always one of the good guys. There was a time that I was part of the criminal element. SHIELD found me and turned me, turned my life around, but… I don’t know. I guess I feel like Steve still holds that against me at times.” You swirl your wine in your glass as you speak and then look up at Billy to see his reaction.

“You like to color outside the lines. I like that. So, tell me what happened with the whole Bucky thing?” Billy’s eyes are piercing as he asks the questions. His stiff jaw signals feelings of jealousy.

“You mean the TikTok video and the aftermath?” You look away for a second, “Bucky live broadcasted a video he wasn’t supposed to. PR called us in almost immediately after. Two former baddies getting together just doesn’t look good apparently. Then a week later he starts dating Sharon.” You roll your eyes and shrug.

“You don’t like her?” Billy asks.

“Everyone kisses her ass because she’s Peggy Carter’s legacy. Bucky’s always had a thing for her, but she dated Steve. I guess he finally decided to go for sloppy seconds anyway.”

“Tell me how you really feel.” Billy chuckles.

You smirk, “One thing about me you should know, Billy, I don’t sugar coat shit and I tell it like it is.”

Billy studies you for a moment before leaning forward, “I like you more and more. We’re doing some training exercises at Anvil on Thursday. I’d like you to come by and observe. Maybe give your opinion.”

“My consulting fee is hefty.” You smirk at him.

“Come by. See what we do.” Billy pushes.

“I have a mission briefing first thing tomorrow. I might be out of pocket for a few days, but I’ll let you know.” You sip your wine.

“Would you care to see the dessert menu?” Billy asks as he sees the waiter making his way over.

“Mmm, no. I’m watching my figure.” You smile.

“I’ve been watching it all night. It’s exquisite.” Billy smiles slyly. He pays the check even though you offer and leads you out to his car. He takes you to a club where the two of you dance and flirt for a few hours. Afterward, he drives you home and walks you into the building. He kisses you good night at the elevator and says he’ll text you. You are barely in your room before you get a text.

Billy: Sleep well, Beautiful. Hope to see you Thursday.

You: Stop texting and driving.

Billy: I live dangerously.

You: Just remember I only date live men. Good night, handsome.

Billy: I’m at a stop light. G’Night, gorgeous.

The next morning, you head into the conference room for the mission briefing and are inundated by Tony the minute you walk in the door. “How was your date last night?”

“Phenomenal,” you take your place and watch as Bucky enters, glances at his usual seat next to you, and then moves to one further down the conference table. You do your best to hide your hurt at the snub.

“Where did Russo take you?” Tony asks.

“Giovanni’s and then to Pulse.” You reply, glancing back at Bucky’s surly demeanor. When you look back to Tony he raises an eyebrow at you in a suggestive manner and you scoff. “Then back here since I had an early morning briefing.”

Steve, Nat, Wanda, Vision, and Sam clamor in then, nearly overshadowing the sound of Bucky’s aggravated grunt but you caught the noise. You look back at him and he is glaring in Tony’s direction. You turn to the front where Steve and Tony begin giving mission details. A two day mission that should be fairly easy to accomplish. Perfect for you, you’ll be back in time to check out Anvil.

The mission went off without a hitch. You had received texts from Billy each day and the two of you had talked back and forth. So when Thursday rolled around, you donned an outfit that was both flattering and appropriate for training exercises. You had a feeling Billy was going to put you into action one way or another.

You arrive at the Anvil facility on your bike and find Billy waiting in the parking lot for you.

“Hello Gorgeous.” Billy smiles, “I should have guessed you’d have a bike.”

“Hey there, handsome. It’s hot, right?” You sass.

“Very. Let me show you around.” Billy surprises you by holding out a hand. You take it and he walks you into the building. He shows you the tactical course and explains the exercises they are running. He takes you up on a catwalk to watch as the teams move through the exercises. Billy asks your opinion at several points and you point out your observations. He takes you down to meet with a few of the team members. He motions to his three best men and says, “gauntlet.”

Immediately, you tense, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The three encircle you and you spend the next several minutes fighting them. You take each of them down without serious injury until Billy tells them to stop. You smooth your hair, rub a bit of blood from your lip, and look up at Billy.

He approaches you with a smile, “you handled that better than I expected.”

As soon as he’s close enough you lunge forward, headbutting him directly in the mouth. He grabs his mouth and leans away while looking at you with a glint in his eyes.

“Oops. Should I have said ‘gauntlet’ first?” You sass.

Billy smiles and a drop of blood rolls down his chin from his split lip, “I love your fire. I have an offer for you. Let’s go to my office to talk.”

“Lead the way.” You smirk.

Part 5

Masterlist

Permanent: @bubbabarnes @badassbaker @thefridgeismybestie @strangersstranger @cherthegoddess @buckyluvrs @sherlocksmanwatson @cap-n-stuff @finleyjayne @caplanreads @connie326 @daydreamerinadazedworld @bugsbucky @chrisevanscardigan @harrysthiccthighss @palaiasaurus64 @rebekahdawkins @maaaaarveeeeel @tllynn15 @learisa @jelly-fishy-babie @fistmebuckyskywalker @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @liebs82 @honestly-dontknow @a-really-bi-girl @saiyanprincessswanie @baddie-barnes @aikeia @paleo-runaway @marvelgirl7 @starlightcrystalline @xxloki81xx @slytherinambitious @sallycanwait68 @slytherdorxmd @fangirlforever2412

TikTok: @juju092118 @kmuir1 @somewhatasoftbaddie @goldenfightergir @curlyred2020 @obsessedbutnotblessed @little-baby-vixen @honeygingergemini @sheerfreesia007 @jamesbuchananbarnesslut @mollygetssherlockcoffee @thereisa8ella @msmarvelwrites @surrounded-by-superheroes @slytherinandoutasgard @mcolbz14 @kyrarose16 @sxbby-barnes @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @theoneandonlyslytherinprincess @writerwrites @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @goldenfightergir @angrybirdcr @roserose26 @sloth-with-a-taser @thecornerlot @animegirlgeeky @sagechanoafterdark @i-alyssa @viinchester @kalesrebellion @hermione-grangers-wife @jassy2101 @eurynome827 @kidney9-9

Names with strikethroughs could not be tagged. Remember, you need to follow me to be able to be tagged. Thanks!

593 notes · View notes

let-them-read-fics · 3 years

Text

Yours Truly (Pt. 2)

Requested By: Some of you!

Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader

AU: College

Word Count: Part 1 -> 9,786 // Part 2 -> 7,433

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Here's the second and final part of the imagine, gang. I hope you enjoy the adventures I wrote for you! Let me know about your fav part(s)!

♡ Happy Reading ♡

Part 1 -- Click Here

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

5.) Epiphanies

A Week Later

"Yuqi, why the hell did you drag me here? I'd so much rather be writing…" you shove your hands further into the pockets of your hoodie and look at her with a scowl. Rows of people fill the bleachers around you, everyone excited for the football game that's scheduled to start soon. Happy couples sit together all around the stadium, and the sight only works to remind you of how weird things are with Jisoo right now.

"One: it's a Friday night and you need to let loose, and two: I wanted to come, so you have to tag along by default. The rules of friendship are very simple, Y/N," she trails off, tilting her head at you with a smile.

"Well I am gonna go get some food," you imitate her, "Do you want anything?" You stand from the bench and look down at her, noticing how her permed hair sticks up in a few different places. You smooth it out for her as she answers, "Nachos, please."

"Alright, dork. I'm sure the line's kinda long, but come look for me if I'm not back in 20." She pats your butt as you leave, and you just shake your head with a smile.

"--I know! Did you hear about Lee's new girlfriend? I heard she got in a fight with his ex last ni--"

"I'm fucking starving bro."

"Yeah, they totally hooked up at Jackson's party!"

Various conversations work their way to your ears as you walk towards the back of the line, but you attempt to not get too invested in the gossip. As welcoming as your school tends to be, even it has its fair share of scandals and drama. You've never been one to care about rumors though, and you don't plan to start now.

"I heard that Jisoo likes someone."

Funny how plans can change in an instant, don't you think?

You can't find it in yourself to ignore the childish desire to eavesdrop, so you listen in as the line slowly shifts forward with each new customer served, doing your best to be inconspicuous.

"Supposedly she's been into them for a while but they don't know about it. I guess Lisa is planning to get them together tonight or something, I don't know." You recognize the brunette speaking as Seulgi, a dance major that you share a couple classes with. She's talking to Yeri, whom you've seen a few times in passing.

That must be why she was defensive about the kiss; she has feelings for someone else.

"Ooh, that'll be interesting. I can't say that I'm not disappointed, though; now Jisoo's gonna be off the market." The shorter girl frowns, basically reading your mind with her statement. You've never fooled yourself into believing you have a chance with Jisoo, but knowing that she'll be whisked away by some lucky classmate of yours definitely isn't an easy pill to swallow.

You pass the remaining wait time by imagining who that person may be. Jisoo has a lot of friends, but you've never seen her around campus with any particular love interest; she always puts her studies first, deciding that her education is far more important than any potential relationship.

You remain lost in your thoughts until it's your turn to order.

"Hey Y/N, what can I get for you?" The cashier greets, resetting the register as she grins at you.

"Hi Yeji," you smile back, happy to see your old friend again after what feels like forever. Your busy schedules have kept you from hanging out much lately, but seeing her now is something you're grateful for. "I'll take two waters, a medium nacho, and 1 hot dog, please."

"You want everything on it?" She asks in reference to your last request, assuming you still stick with the order you used to go with in your childhood.

"You know it. And make sure to--"

"--spread the toppings out well. I remember, girl." She says with a wink, turning around to get started on your order. The familiar interaction warms your heart, aided by the idea that some things never change. After she packages your things up in a convenient little container, you thank her and pay, walking away with a promise to meet up at the school's café next week.

About halfway back to your seat, something unexpected happens.

"Rosie, we can't buy out the whole place. This is the 4th trip we've taken back here and the game hasn't even started yet!" You freeze as you round the corner, almost dropping your food as Jisoo's low voice sounds off nearby.

"Unnie, I didn't even get to eat much of the other stuff at all! Lisa and Jennie stole it and shared it with everyone else," the artist pouts, rolling her hands into fists at her sides like a toddler.

"Fine. But this is the last trip I'm taking." She warns, rolling her eyes when the Australian attacks her with a flurry of kisses. "Yah! Let's go before we miss something." She says, pushing her off of her with a smile on her face.

Even her voice makes your heart ache, and it reminds you of what her kiss felt like against your lips. It was short, no doubt, and barely there; but the sparks remain, waiting to be reignited anytime she's around. Maybe you're just destined to pine.

----

"There you are! I was literally about to go steal some food from Shuhua because you were taking so long."

"Yeah, yeah," you say, sitting down beside Yuqi with the cardboard box in your hands. "You're lucky I love you enough to pay for this. Now I'll have to survive on 3 grains of rice and ramen for the next few weeks."

"Oh, the struggles of being a broke college student." She says woefully, clutching her hands together in front of her chest to add to the effect.

"Precisely," you agree, scooting closer to offer her some nachos. When she tries to greedily take the whole tray of them, you're quick to stop her.

"Ah, ah, ah," you warn, pulling her wrist back down. "We're sharing, chica." She huffs, but eventually settles down and decides to shove her face full instead of protesting anymore.

Now, with your best friend happily eating, you relax and begin to prepare yourself for the match.

"LET'S GO!" You shout with Yuqi, chanting together as your school's anthem echoes throughout the stadium. The rival team has been behind the entire game, but they closed the gap in the last few minutes and now it's neck and neck. Your band plays loudly to encourage your team, and it seems to be working; they manage to repeatedly hold the others off and keep them from scoring.

It's the start of the fourth quarter now -- the home stretch. With their spirits still high, your team continues to keep victory out of their opponents hands. The black paint underneath their eyes is really streaked now, showing all the effort and sweat that they've put into the game so far. A beautiful sunset just previously gave way to a rapidly darkening evening sky, allowing some stars to peek out now.

"My high school team sucked; this is epic!" Yuqi says, making you laugh. You tear your eyes away from the heated game to say something to her, but all thoughts soon disappear from your mind and you stop mid-sentence.

She notices your sudden silence and looks at you, only realizing what's happening once she follows your line of sight. Jeong is standing against the metal fence that borders the track, mingling with everyone at the bottom of the bleachers. That doesn't bother you, but what you see next certainly does; you spot Jisoo beside him, giggling at something he said as he tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Oh shit," Yuqi breathes out, fully grasping the weight of the situation now. She doesn't even attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he knows how in love you are with Jisoo and yet there he is, flirting away. He's the only other person besides Yuqi who knows of your feelings for the brunette, and you really trusted him with it. Clearly that was a mistake. You blink a few times and set your jaw, quickly looking away as he moves closer to whisper something in her ear over the noise of the crowd.

"I'm gonna head out to the car. Just let me know who wins," you mumble, brushing past her on your way toward the exit. You know there's no way you'd be able to focus on the game anymore after seeing that, so going is your best option. She catches your arm before you can slip away, and says, "Wait, I'm coming with you. And don't even try to tell me no; I can always watch highlights later. I'm not gonna let you be alone right now."

Knowing it's pointless to argue anymore, you nod once and wait for her to gather up her trash and coat. "Let's go," she says, taking your hand after tossing her garbage in the can conveniently placed at the end of your row. She squeezes it a few times for reassurance, and a bittersweet smile works onto your lips at the gesture.

You don't notice how Jisoo's eyes follow you, every fiber of her being yelling at her to go after you. She hates seeing you sad, and although she isn't 100% sure of the reason for it now, all she wants is to cheer you up.

"So, Jisoo. Do you have any plans after the game?" Jeong smirks, quirking a brow suggestively at his own question. Jisoo grimaces, saying, "Yeah, I do. I have to study." She tries to find you in the crowd again, but it seems that you've already slipped away.

"We're throwing a party tonight, you should come." He leans a little closer to her, but she takes a step back. The only reason she's even talking to him right now is because Lisa introduced them, and it would be impolite not to. She turns him down, yet again sneaking a glance around the stadium.

"No wonder Y/N's too chicken to ask you out; you're hard to get, but I don't mind a challenge." Her head whips around at his statement, heart regaining that familiar uptick at the mention of you. "What?" She blinks, not believing her ears. Surely she was just hearing things.

"I said I don't mind a challenge," his words come out slightly slurred, and the effects of the alcohol he's been drinking are beginning to show themselves in all the wrong ways. The more he talks, the less Jisoo can stand him. "Look, Jeong -- I'm not interested. I'm sure there are other girls here that would love to get to know you, but I'm not one of them. Now, if you'll excuse me," she says, turning her body to the side to maneuver around him and get to the stairs. He lets her go without another word, his pride too bruised to come up with a more fitting response than a muttered insult.

She makes quick work of getting to the parking lot, where she spots you approaching Yuqi's car, head hanging a bit. Seeing you upset saddens her, and she's determined to find out what's wrong.

"Y/N! Wait up!" The shout catches your attention, and you slowly spin around. Jisoo begins to jog out to you, and a scoff slips past your lips (though you don't put much effort into stopping it). You're hurt, and half of the reason for your pain is staring right back at you like nothing happened.

"What do you want, Jisoo?" You sigh, not looking forward to where this conversation will most certainly go.

"I want to talk, Y/N." She's in front of you now, scanning her eyes between yours to gauge your reaction.

"What is there to say? Just go back to talking to Jeong; you looked like you were enjoying yourself." She can hear the jealousy laced in your tone, and things finally -- finally -- begin to click for her.

"Is that what this is about?" She asks in reference to your sadness. The question isn't accusatory at all; she's genuinely trying to piece things together.

A disbelieving laugh leaves you at that. How is she still so oblivious? "Yes, Jisoo, it is. I just had to witness someone who I thought was my friend flirt with my crush. So yeah, that's what this is about." Sensing that she doesn't know what to say, you decide to conclude things for her. This is already pitiful enough, and you'd rather spare the both of you from having the "it's not you, it's me" talk.

"Look, I get it. You don't like me back, and you were only trying to be friendly by inviting me to the rehearsal that night. Just please, for the both of us, forget it even happened. Forget all of this. It was a mistake, and I won't do it again."

Jisoo hates that you're jumping to conclusions without even knowing her true feelings; you automatically think that she couldn't possibly feel the same, and you use her moment of silence as a form of evidence to prove that. The complete opposite is true, though you'd never give her enough time to straighten out her jumbled thoughts and tell you that.

She finds her voice when you turn away, and she reaches out to touch your hand. "Stop, you've got it all wrong." Your eyes glance down to your intertwined hands, but you wiggle out of her grip with a heavy sigh. Over your shoulder, you shakily say, "You don't have to pretend for me, Jisoo. I'll be alright. If he makes you happy, then so be it."

With that, you get in Yuqi's car and tell her to drive away, leaving Jisoo to deal with the sinking feeling in her chest that worsens as the car's tail lights grow dimmer and dimmer in the distance. You're gone, and she really has no idea how to come back from this.

6.) Broken Hearted

The next few weeks were hell. You avoided Jisoo as much as possible, too embarrassed to face her after what happened and too weak to be close to her again. You'd surely fall even harder if you allowed yourself to grow any closer, so you didn't take the risk. How could you? Falling alone isn't an enjoyable experience, and you've been teetering on the edge of no return ever since that afternoon at the daycare.

It was hard enough to escape her hold -- her face was everywhere, plastered on ads and bulletin boards all throughout campus, on reminders and sign ups for student council. You used your sick days in order to hide away in your dorm and block out the world, only being comforted by Ryujin when she wasn't busy with her own life or Yuqi when she could spare a few hours. They always made sure to care for you as much as they could, knowing first hand how tough heartbreak can be -- especially with the added stress of schoolwork.

One person you thought about often was Jeong. Every time he'd cross your mind, dirtying up your brainwaves with the mere notion of himself, you'd grimace. He didn't deserve the attention, and yet you couldn't help but question why he did that to you. He hadn't reached out since that night, likely due to Yuqi giving him a piece of her mind after the game. He made it clear that he wasn't sorry, and that if given the chance, he'd play his cards even better and hopefully score a date with Jisoo.

Maybe that was the worst part of it all. Hearing that it hadn't just been a stupid thing he did because he was drunk; he realized the weight of his actions, and he'd do it again, over and over, without caring about how you fit into the equation. That football game was simply a turning point, hidden in plain sight as an unassuming night for you to hang out with Yuqi. But you learned more then than you had ever intended to; Jeong's selfish, and he probably never even cared for you in the first place. The idea of that makes you feel dirty -- like you wasted so much of your time with such a horrible person, sticking up for him and defending his name when he wasn't around when he never even deserved that in the first place. You wish you would've known who he really was back then; you would've stayed away.

Unbeknownst to you, Jisoo was struggling much like you -- minus the whole "betrayed by a best friend" situation. Every time that she showed up in class, she hoped with every piece of herself that you'd walk through the door and grace the room with your presence. You seldom ever did, though -- but when you ran out of free days of absence and were forced to attend class in order to keep your grades up, you never even uttered a word to her. She'd make it a point to ask questions in class, hoping that hearing her voice would bring something out of you, as yours did to her. She longed to talk to you again, if only for a minute; but your resolve remained strong, and her determination grew weaker as the days went by.

Being the person she is, though, she knew giving up wasn't an option. After a few weeks of that cycle, greeting stands were placed at the front doors of each complex on campus, manned by different members of the council. She came up with a story for the administration on the fly, using her people skills to convince them that it would be good for student morale and getting more people to join clubs. It was a great effort, but she underestimated your avoidance skills; you thwarted her plans again, slipping right through her strategically linked fingers.

Eventually, she lost hope. She exhausted every option she knew to try, and the girls ran out of new ones as well. Seeing their unnie so upset saddened them, and they did all they could to cheer her up in any and every way they knew how.

7.) Premiere Night

"Y/N, get up. You're gonna shower and get dressed if I have to force you to do it myself." Yuqi commands, blasting into your room and flipping on the overhead light that shines far too bright for your liking.

"Mmm," you groan in protest, not even bothering to roll over.

"I mean it; don't test me, you know I'm true to my word."

"Why, Yuqi?"

"Because we're going to the performance tonight. The big show that everyone has been going on about is premiering, and you're coming with me to see it."

"I can't do that." You say, her words sobering you up from your sleepy stupor.

"I know who the lead is," she informs, already knowing about your reasons for being hesitant, "and that's precisely why we're going. You can't keep living like this, so either go get your girl, or agree to be friends with her and work past what you're dealing with."

"You sound like a mom at the end of an 80s movie."

"80s movie moms are valid, so I'll take that as a compliment. Now go!" She shouts, shoving you off the bed. You tumble to the floor in a heap of blankets and pillows, still managing to hit your funny bone as you let out a pained groan.

"Remind me to slap her later, Ryujin."

"Will do." She salutes, reaching a hand down to help you up. With one last glare at an annoyingly bubbly Yuqi, you head to the bathroom to shower.

----

"How do I look?" You ask, looking yourself up and down in the skinny mirror attached to the wall.

"Is it gay if I say I'd ask you out?" Yuqi asks with a smile, fanning herself animatedly when you strike a pose.

"Very much so, yes."

"Well, hand me the rainbow suspenders, then."

You push her over with a laugh -- the first real one you've shared in a while -- and wrap her in a hug.

"Thank you, for real. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you." You say against her shoulder, pulling back to look at your roommate and add, "Either of you." The three of you settle in for a group hug and tell a few more jokes before Yuqi finally drags you out of the dorm.

----

"How does it feel to be back in society?" Yuqi whispers, leaning in close to you to read the seat numbers printed on your tickets.

"As lame as ever." You add, amusingly unenthused.

"You're never gonna convince Jisoo to date your dumbass with that attitude." She retorts, feeling a little guilty when she sees your expression change upon hearing her name. You're afraid to see where the two of you will stand at the end of the night, so saying it's still a sore subject is the understatement of the year.

"I'm messing with you, dude. If she doesn't want to be with you, then it's her loss; but I highly doubt that's the case. I've heard she misses you a lot." For once, Yuqi's words are halfway encouraging to hear, and you let out a light smile.

"Well I'm prepared to worry about that whole situation later. For now, let's find our seats and enjoy the show." Your best friend quickly agrees, and the two of you squeeze through the crowds in the aisles to get to your row.

----

"Jisoo, I promise you'll do well. You've been practicing for months; you've got this," Soo-hyun says, rubbing his co-lead's back in reassuring circles. The certainty in his deep voice gives Jisoo some semblance of security, and she stands to look at him with one final, nervous sigh. Stage fright has never been this big of an issue for her, but the size of the crowd and the idea that you might be out there scare the hell out of her. She wants you to be there with all of her heart, but she doesn't know if she'll be able to handle watching you walk away again. The past few weeks have been torture, and she misses your presence and witty remarks more than she ever thought possible.

"Thank you, Soo-hyun. I'll meet you out there in a couple minutes, just let me collect myself."

He nods and says, "Take your time. I'll let Mrs. Choi know," before leaving and shutting the door behind himself. Now alone again, Jisoo digs through her personal bag that lays neatly on the small futon of the dressing room. When her fingers come in contact with that familiar material she's spent hours staring at, she bites the inside of her cheek and unfolds it for the millionth time. Multiple poems and blurbs litter the page, accompanied by cute doodles and cartoons here and there that give it a personal feel. She's spent the time away from you methodically working through the different writings, restraining herself from reading all of them in one setting so that she can have new content from time to time.

She's down to the last one, now, and a surprising sort of realization hits her when she reads it. It instills within her a sense of determination -- determination to get you back and set things right, one way or another. She makes a plan to find you after the performance.

-- After The Performance --

It was even more spectacular than you ever imagined it could be. The school spared no expense in getting the best props, employing the most skilled technicians on hand, and recruiting the best artists that the school had to paint the backdrops. Everyone behind the scenes worked tirelessly to produce the best show possible, and their efforts really paid off.

And, of course, you can't forget the actors.

The entire cast was incredible, their talent matching some of the world's most sought-after stars. Every part was played to perfection; even the smaller, supporting roles were acted with passion, really bringing the piece together as a whole. The production left you wanting more, too inspired and awestruck by the amazing performances to be content with just seeing it once. So, after numerous calls for an encore, the cast returned to run through a few of their key scenes.

---

As the cast takes their final bow, large cannons placed on either side of the stage shoot out bursts of colorful confetti, and you watch it flutter down around them. Some try to catch a piece or two to add to their scrapbooks, wanting to have a trinket from their college years, while others just hug each other and twirl around with content smiles on their faces. The crowd continues its loud cheering, and eventually you find the courage to sneak a glance at Jisoo.

To your surprise, she's looking right back.

Her eyes hold a mixed softness; she's proud of herself and glad that you came to support her on such a big night, but part of her wants to escape the busyness of it all and tell you everything she's been feeling. She'd be content with looking at you forever, she realizes, as she studies you. You're the true star in her eyes, always shining so bright and making everyone feel at home whenever they're around you. She hopes you know how special you are.

Mrs. Choi approaches the cast from stage right, gathering their attention to congratulate them and commend them for their performances. Jisoo reluctantly looks away from you, unsure if it's the last time she'll be seeing you tonight. The thought upsets her, but there isn't much she can do about it right now; so, she gives her attention to her professor and flashes that smile that makes everyone weak in the knees.

You knew it was just a matter of time before she'd be pulled away and immersed in some conversation about the show, but the selfish side of you never wanted her to look away. No matter how confusing things may be because of all of your unresolved issues, she still looks at you like she always had before -- her gaze is kind, albeit bittersweet, but it's full of care. Seeing her like that makes you feel like even more of an asshole than you already do -- maybe you should have just listened to her at the game. Running away was an immature choice, rooted entirely in your own sadness in that moment as you deprived yourself of any explanation she could've offered, though you can't judge yourself too harshly. The situation is complicated, and you still don't know whether to hate yourself for running or go easy on yourself in light of what happened.

When Yuqi sees you stand up and shuffle towards the end of your row, she sends you a warning look.

"Dude, I'm not gonna run away. I'm literally just gonna step outside for some fresh air, I promise." She visibly relaxes, no longer having to prepare herself to wrangle you back into the seat.

"Fine. But if you aren't back in 15 minutes I'm coming to track you down. You really need to talk to her."

You sigh, nodding in agreement. "I know, trust me. Just let me get my thoughts together first." She sends you off to do just that, but not until the two of you complete the special handshake you made up all those months ago.

---

Brisk air rushes over your skin in waves the moment you exit the side door of the building, automatically sending goosebumps to raise in its wake. It feels nice, though; it grounds you, and works to cool off your heated skin. The atmosphere inside was thick with the tension you've been feeling ever since what happened that night at the game, and its effects were only heightened by the raw performances of the evening. Passion and longing were the driving factors of the play, ironically, and many of the scenes drew eerie parallels to your current situation. So, it's no wonder that you're thankful to step away from it all for a bit.

You greet a few stray audience members that're puttering around outside as well, opting to walk down a little further away from them and lean against the building. The wall's brick material feels rough against your back, lightly scratching it whenever you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You don't mind it, though; it's oddly nostalgic, somehow.

When you hear the door open again, you think nothing of it. The metal hinges latch just the same as they had for you, so there's really no reason for you to even look up. However, that all changes when you feel someone's eyes on you.

Unprepared is leaps and bounds away from being a fitting statement to describe how you feel in that moment; Jisoo stands merely 10 feet away from you at most, right next to the stage door that she just came out of. Her hands fiddle with the drawstrings of her costume, seemingly always needing to be occupied when she's nervous or unsure of herself; it's a habit you've picked up on after seeing it so many times.

The longer you look at her, the more you want to look away; she's so beautiful it hurts, and the silence is eating away at you. You can't blame her, though; neither of you know what to say or do, and the only thing you seem capable of is staring at each other. When you break the intense eye contact you were sharing to turn away, only intending to take a minute to collect yourself, Jisoo is suddenly set in motion.

She's afraid you'll leave again, and she's prepared to fight even harder for you this time.

I love you as the stars love the night sky

A fateful, cyclic romance

A game of eager greetings and reluctant goodbyes

Those words -- ones that you remember penning one day in class while completely entranced by Jisoo -- roll from her lips effortlessly, as if she had spent time committing them to memory. She had, in fact; whenever days passed without her even catching a glimpse of you, she always found herself unfolding that note again, tracing a finger over the curve of your unique letters as she reread the poem. It always brought her comfort to think that you were in just as deep as her, and a similar sense of hope blossoms in her chest now when she spots an unbelieving smile tug at the corner of your lips as you slowly turn to face her again.

You're still into her, and she's falling even deeper at the realization. Maybe she didn't lose you after all.

She takes calculated steps towards you and breathes a sigh of relief when you stay put, not showing any signs of running. The wheels in your head are going into overdrive now, turning and churning as you process her little recital, and she prays with all of her heart that you won't be upset once you put two and two together.

"How did you…"

"You dropped it one day, and I picked it up. I meant to give it back to you, but I guess I just never got around to it." She feels a little guilty for keeping it as long as she has, but it's served as a way of keeping you close during your time apart. Those bits and pieces of you, scattered around on that page, encapsulated by the annotations and doodles you so kindly left behind, have stayed in her heart. Ever since she discovered it all that time ago, it's never been very far from her; she cherishes it more than you'll ever know.

"You didn't show it to anyone, right?" Your voice is laced with worry, lowered a bit to keep others from overhearing.

"No, no! Of course not. I just… kept it for myself. You're really talented; I couldn't stop reading your stuff."

"Thank, I guess?" You awkwardly chuckle, still a bit rusty on how to interact with her after everything. Plus, to be fair, having your crush read one of the love letters you wrote about her is a bit unheard of. Newfound territory, you think to yourself.

"How long?" You ask after a minute of silence, only realizing how loaded your question is after it slips past your lips, turning into a puff of steam in the chilly atmosphere. "How long have you… felt that way about me?" You quickly add, "Assuming that you feel what the poem says, of course."

An amused smile tweaks her lips at how cute you are. "I do, Y/N. I always have; ever since that afternoon at the daycare."

"Really?" The question is quiet, full of childlike disbelief.

"Really. It was always you." She says it freely now: unafraid.

The sentiment is sweet, but memories of the football game come flooding back and you're reminded that as much as you want to skip this next part, you still have things to discuss.

"What about Jeong?"

"What about him?"

"Did you ever like him?"

"No. The girls thought so, but it was just a misunderstanding. That's why Lisa introduced us at the game; she thought I had a crush on him, but I told her that you were always the one I was looking at. I told all of the girls that, after that night."

Her confession renders you speechless -- only capable of listening and nodding every now and then. She takes advantage of your silence to finally explain herself and tell you everything she's been dying to.

"I didn't know you felt the same until our talk in the parking lot. I mean, I was hopeful after some of the moments we had, but I didn't know for sure until then. I wanted to beg you to stay and hear me out, but you left before I had the chance."

You blink a few times as the reality of her words begin to sink in. "I had no idea…"

"Yeah, well…" she trails off, unsure of what to say next. She's forgiven you for walking away, knowing you were just hurt, but the whole situation still left a bad taste in her mouth. So much pain could've been avoided for the both of you if you had just listened.

"How did they take it?"

"They yelled at me for waiting so long to tell them, but then they tried to help me get you back. Remember those student council booths?" She leans in a little closer to ask that last line, her lips pulling to the side in that iconic smirk of hers.

You audibly gasp and point at her animatedly. "I knew that was you!"

"Mhm, pulled some fancy-sounding excuse out of my ass to convince the board, and boom; 20 brand new tables set up the next day. I still can't believe you managed to slip past them, though. I mean, c'mon, have you seen how talkative those kids can be?"

"Trust me, it wasn't easy," you laugh with her. "I had to sneak to the back entrances like a drug dealer."

"I can totally see that."

"I'm dedicated, what can I say?" The stupid hair flip you do makes her laugh even harder, clutching her stomach as those beautiful sounds slip past her lips.

As your shared laughter eventually turns into soft chuckles, she smiles at you, saying, "I really missed this. I missed you, so so much."

"I've been a wreck without you, Jisoo. It's honestly embarrassing."

She looks at you with something new shining in her eyes, and she carefully contemplates what she's about to admit. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"I rarely cry, Y/N, but I did over you. So you have no reason to be embarrassed. It seems like both of us were pretty bad off." She looks down after saying that, scuffing her foot against the concrete of the sidewalk. Being vulnerable isn't usually easy for her, and she never really lets people see that side of her -- not even the girls. She feels like she has to stay strong for them to keep things running smoothly, but she fails to realize how important her own feelings are. You're different, though; she feels like her entire collection of secrets would be safe with you, and you make her feel secure enough to be open like that.

When she feels you step closer and hook two fingers underneath her chin, her eyes dart up to yours and her heart speeds up. Your other arm hesitantly wraps around her waist, giving her plenty of time to step away and deny you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she couldn't possibly want someone like you that you're genuinely surprised when she steps further into your embrace, pulling your arm tighter around herself.

Her right arm comes to rest loosely on your shoulder as her other hand caresses your forearm, rubbing various patterns against your smooth skin. "I tried so hard to get you to pick up on my flirting," she starts, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck as she holds you close. "Every touch," she runs a finger down your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. "Every look," she moves her hand from your neck to your cheek, cupping it sweetly as she gazes into your eyes. She strokes your skin with the pad of her thumb, smiling beautifully when she feels you nuzzle into her hold even more.

"And that kiss…" she says, sounding breathless at the mere thought of it. "I wanted it to last forever."

"Why didn't you tell me that, then?" You ask, not even a trace of anger in your tone. You're determined to let go of all the hurt and fear that your misunderstandings have caused, opting instead to finally get the answers you've wanted for so long. "After I came back from putting Aera to bed you were just… different. And then when you said it was just a part of the script--"

"I know. I was afraid that if I let myself have you like that -- if I let you in all the way -- there'd be no going back." When she sees the confusion building in your eyes, she continues on. "I don't usually let myself get distracted; I can't afford it. You know how seriously I take my studies." You nod, recalling the numerous times you've found her in the library until it closed, studying hard for the exams everyone knew she'd ace. "But you wiggled your way past every line of defense I ever put up. You became my favorite distraction." A dopey grin tugs at your lips at receiving that title, and you subconsciously hold your head a little higher.

"But I wasn't prepared for that. You make me feel things that I've never felt before, and I really didn't think I could afford to let myself have you. Not fully, anyway. I could deal with a crush; I told myself I could keep you close enough that I wouldn't miss you, but far enough that I could keep myself protected."

"What changed?" You ask, smoothing your hands over the small of her back, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. They've worked their way under the hem of her shirt during your conversation, subconsciously seeking to share her warmth, and Jisoo has been acutely aware of it the entire time.

"When I saw you walk away like that I didn't know what to do with myself. I've had people leave before, so it's not a new thing; but I never missed them like I've missed you."

A bittersweet, melancholic look settles on your face at that; she deserves every good thing that the world has to offer, so knowing that you played a part in her sadness -- whether it be direct or indirect -- disheartens you a bit.

"But you're here now, and that's all that matters." She says, leaning her forehead against yours.

"And I'm not going anywhere," you affirm, holding her even closer than before. She brushes her nose against yours with a quiet sigh, relieved to be in your arms, caught safely in your warm embrace. If falling feels like this, she's more than okay with it.

"Can I?" You ask, glancing down to the heart shaped pillows you've dreamt of having against yours again.

She nods, uttering a soft, "Please", as she tilts her head to the side in expectancy. You close the remaining distance, bending your knees slightly to tighten your hold on her waist and pull her flush up against yourself. Both of her arms wrap around your neck now, occasionally coming down to tilt your head and allow her better access, or run her fingers through your hair. It's sensual and meaningful, but an air of urgency hangs in the air, thickening it the longer her lips are on you. Both of you are making up for lost time, so it's no wonder you're so eager.

She takes your bottom lip between her teeth as she backs you up, pressing you against the brick wall that you had migrated a few steps away from during your conversation. If she were kissing anyone else, perhaps she'd care about the strangers staring, or what they might say; but as she stands here, feeling your hands explore her body in the ways that she's dreamed of and your lips kiss her senseless, that's the furthest thought from her mind. Her hands grab at the collar of your shirt, balling the material up in her palms as she pushes her lips against yours from a new angle.

When you eventually pull back for air, you can't help but say the phrase that's been sitting on your mind for weeks. "I love you."

Her heart speeds up to match yours, both of them racing as you look at each other with giant smiles on your faces. "I love you, too. If you hadn't already guessed that," she chuckles, leaning up to kiss you again. This one's more innocent, though -- full of giddiness as you replay each other's declaration in your minds.

"Y/N L/N IF YOU AREN'T OUT HERE--"

Yuqi bellows loudly, blasting through the side door and out into the chilly night air. The metal smacks against the wall from the force she exerted, and you physically cringe at the sound. Jisoo does the same, quickly pulling away to find out what's going on.

When Yuqi's line of sight settles on the two of you, her eyebrows raise and a smirk lands on her lips. "Well, well, well. Looks like my work here is done," she says, cocking her head to the side self-assuredly when she sees how swollen both of your lips are and how mussed your clothing is. You send her a look that she registers as "Get lost", and she retreats back into the performance hall with her hands raised in surrender.

"Idiot," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as you watch the door close behind her, its poor hinges still recovering from her assault. Jisoo's giggle makes you turn back to her, finding a breathtaking smile forming on her lips. "You're so cute," she coos, poking your cheek, "especially when you blush like that."

You fight the bashfulness that attempts to take over, managing to cock a brow at her and say, "Hey, watch it -- I might not be so kind in my next poem if you don't stop teasing me."

"Aww, don't be like that, baby."

She tenses up after realizing she let that pet name slip out at the end, but your smile only widens.

"Say that again."

"Baby," she drawls in her signature sultry tone, stepping closer to you again.

"Mmm, I could get used to that." You hum against her lips, pressing yours to them at the end of your statement.

"Good, because there's more where that came from."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm," she settles into your arms again, looking into your eyes with so much love you nearly swoon. "This is only the beginning for us."

195 notes · View notes

barnesandco · 3 years

Text

Hidden Mischief

Bucky can’t resist your appeal long enough to get you into a bedroom.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2020. Word count: 1185. Square filled: “Laughing During Sex”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: PLEASE STOP READING IF YOU ARE NOT 18+

A/N: It’s. Closet. Sex. Please enjoy.

The closet is dark and you almost scream when you are pulled into it, stopped only by the familiar scent of Bucky’s cologne that reassures you that you are safe, and the person who yanked you into the cleaning supplies closet as you were walking down the hallway isn’t going to harm you.

Quite the contrary. Bucky kisses you sweetly, clutching your face in his large hands, metal smooth on one side and gun- and knife-roughened palm on the other. You shiver as the gold ridges in his vibranium hand catch on your skin and graze the line of your jaw, and take a moment to breathe, saying, “Bucky? What are we doing here?”

He nuzzles into you, nose grazing the soft stretch of skin below your ear, placing a gentle kiss on your neck. It’s too dark to see him, but you trace the outline of his face with shaking fingertips. “Isn’t it obvious, angel?” He asks, his hot breath hitting your skin. “I’m seducing you?”

“All this effort for little ol’ me?” You murmur in a gasp as his teeth find the hollow of your throat, where he bites hard enough to make you keen, but soft enough that he won’t leave a mark. In response, he walks you backward into a shelf.

Your sweatshirt is taken off with hasty movements, and you tug at the hem of his sweater in sharp motions. When he doesn’t break away from placing wet kisses over the tops of your breasts, you use that super strength that got you recruited to tear it off. He pauses. You can imaging his gaze on yours but can’t see it, and you’re worried for a second until he hoists you up and puts you in a shelf.

Bottles of what you think are cleaning liquids go toppling, and you freeze with Bucky’s hands on your waist and his on your shoulders. There are voices outside, in the hallway. Bucky is close enough that you can see the cerulean glow of his petrified eyes in the light filtering in from under the locked door. That’s when you lose it.

It starts with a giggle that you try to tamp down behind bitten lips, and then by kissing away the worry, but soon you are shaking with laughter, and have to bury your face in his shoulder, breathing in the sweat-salt scent of your boyfriend, until he is smiling into the crook of your neck, too.

Outside, Nat is saying, “Did you hear that?”

“It’s probably nothing,” Sam says, privy to their secret and you can hear the strain of desperation in his voice. He really isn’t much of a spy, but Nat decides to leave it be, and soon, they’re gone.

Bucky recovers first, trailing his tongue from the top of your bra to just below your jaw, while his hand makes short work of your jeans and removes them to trail up your inner thigh. You’re still delirious from the fear of near-discovery when he covers your lips with his, and you form a smile against his mouth as his hands find your underwear.

“Bucky,” you murmur, smile leaving your face to be replaced by a muted moan as his thumb strokes over your clit and he gently works one thick finger inside your velvet folds. You’re soaking wet and he’s barely gotten started, now moving his finger inside of you with slow thrusts that have you arching towards him.

He takes a break from exploring your mouth to groan into your neck, hard against your inner thigh and trying to be patient and gentle. “Easy, darlin’. Don’t want the others to know we’re in here, do you?”

So you stifle the next moan in his mouth by leaning to kiss him, mouths bumping clumsily in the dark and then latching on. His skin is tight and strong under your fingers, and you trace the joint between metal and flesh on his left shoulder with a delicate caress. He shudders and gives you another finger, opening you up to him, not that you need much more of his work. You’re ready.

His pants come off with quick flicks off your wrists and as he steps out of them, he bumps into a broom – how does Tony design a hypermodern superhero complex and still need physical brooms? – and it falls to the ground with a clatter.

But you’re in too much of a hurry to care, and Bucky rips off your underwear with a strong tug, pulls you closer and then works his cock into you slowly, until he is buried in you, to the hilt. The feeling is magnanimous, and you hold him close to you, your arms around his shoulders in an intimate embrace, breathing into his ear.

He smells like sweat and your perfume and his cologne, and you breathe him in deep, then roll forward, and he growls. Pulls out until just the tip is in you and then pushes forward to bury himself in you again, and you gasp, your hands finding a home in his hair, drawing all the hair out of the bun he had it tied in previously.

“Shhh, baby,” he urges again, saying, “Can’t have the others runnin’ in here.” And then there’s a pause, and his voice drops into a wicked whisper. “Or is that what you want? You want everyone to know how good I love you, is that it, baby doll?” The words are muttered sharply into your shoulder, accompanied by deep, rolling thrusts that build the ache in your belly until you are a writhing mass of want, as he keeps talking. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you, honey. You won’t walk right for days and they’ll all know,” he murmurs.

His hands finds your clit again and your walls flutter around him. Bucky is big and you are so full, so sensitive, you can feel every ridge and vein graze your walls as you roll forward in tandem with his thrusts.

The finger on your clit moves in sharp circles and your toes curl where your feet are locked behind his back as he thrusts. The pace becomes frenzied as he gets closer to release and the fireworks waiting behind your eyelids explode, the dark growing white hot as you come around him, feeling him swell inside you before he comes, too, in fast, shallow thrusts, emptying himself inside of you.

Peppering kisses across his shoulders, you breathe deep and slow, willing your heartrate to return to normal while your fingertips seek out his wrists to feel his pulse slow. He twists his hand to catch yours, and your fingers intertwine.

The air smells like cleaning supplies and sex.

Someone tries the door handle.

You and Bucky let go of each other’s hands but stay close, still bare to the skin and thrumming with electric fire.

“Who’s in there?” It’s Steve. You look at Bucky, who is wearing an expression that can most closely be described as I hate my best friend. You cover a smile. No way out of this one.

#SSB2020 #ayesha writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #fanfiction #marvel #mcu

279 notes · View notes

sirius · 4 years

Text

Bite Marks (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap that willy), Dom/Sub, Rough sex, Oral sex (Reader receiving), Swearing. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, KINDLY FUCK OFF

Word Count: 3.6k? I think? Who knows at this point

A/N: Nothing sexier than Jealous!Mando, amirite?

***

The bounty was supposed to be easy.

All five mercenaries were dudebro fuckbois with high prices on their heads and a habit of pissing off the wrong people. They were all expected to be at the same club, too, which meant that you just had to flaunt some skin and purr honeyed promises and they’d be in the palm of your hands.

The bounty was supposed to be fucking easy .

It wasn’t.

***

The Mandalorian is suspicious. He always is.

“What are the chances of all six of our targets being in one place?” He says, “Seems suspicious. Could be a trap.”

“I considered that, too,” you remark from over your shoulder, searching idly for an outfit, “That was before I realised it was a Solastice festival. Literally hundreds of thousands of people rock up to this sleeze fest. No one wants to miss out on the free booze and the orgies,” Your fingers skim across a velvet mermaid dress, “How about this?”

Mando huffs out a grunt, “I should come.”

You toss the dress aside and search for another, “Who’s going to look after the Child?”

The Mandalorian stares long and hard at the Child, who blinks owlishly back at the Mandalorian, his inky eyes filled with adoration, “I know someone.”

“You sure you can trust them?”

“She’s taken care of him before.”

You give a noncommittal hum and hold out a lacy, navy-blue dress, “What about this?”

“That’s it?”

“What? You don’t like a bit of lace—?”

“—you’re not going to argue about me coming on this bounty with you?”

“It’ll be fun,” you smirk, throwing the dress away, “Besides, I like watching you in action. You’re sexy when you fight.”

Mando tilts his head. His expression is impossible to read but you suspect he might be amused, annoyed or confused.

Beaming excitedly, you flatten a sleek, backless dress with a plunging neckline against your body, imagining how the dress will hug your curves and flaunt your cleavage. A long split down the side will give you access to the blasters and daggers strapped to your thigh holster too. It’s classy with just enough sexy to keep the imagination stirring.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long, measured moment. Somehow, perhaps ironically — the silence seems to whisper his approval.

You untie your silk dressing robe, letting it fall to the ground and pool around your feet. The Mandolorian averts his gaze. suddenly taking a keen interest in the small plant you’ve been watering. You wish you could see his face. Is he blushing? Is he horrified? Is he aroused?

Sliding into the dress, you turn and gesture to the zip kissing the small of your back. “Do you mind?”

The Mandalorian hesitates at first. Somehow, you can almost hear the clink of his thoughts colliding, like he’s mentally solving dynamical system calculations and differential equations. Finally, he stalks toward you and you feel the hesitancy begin to thaw as his gloved fingers twitch around the zip and tug.

His ghostly, featherlight touch lingers on your skin, following the line of your spine until he reaches the thin straps sitting elegantly on the knob of your shoulders. Summoning every ounce of your ex-assassin courage, you slowly turn to face him and stare deeply into the slit in his helmet, imagining the colour of his eyes. Are they a dazzling shade of blue? Or a lovely, rare shade of teal green? Perhaps a smokey umber or steely grey? Or were they like yours; a kaleidoscope of colour always shifting and changing and never one distinct shade?

The air thickens, electricity crackles.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian nods stiffly and stumps away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sigh, realising that there’s more than Beskar armour hiding his thick, prickly layers. Perhaps... , you muse, in that childishly naive way that only deep affection can stir, ... Perhaps I’ll find a way to pry it off.

***

Outside, the festival rages.

The dancing crowd of celebrants are like a splash of vibrant colour against the bland backdrop of the surrounding buildings as they flood the streets, filling the air with hoots and cheer and vivid shades of life .

You perch on the barstool, keeping an eye on both your targets and the festival. The Mandalorian is sitting at a table in the far corner, close to the exit in case the targets are as dumb as they look and decide to make a break for it.

The bartender slides yet another drink your way from a hopeful suitor. You smile and take a sip, winking at the nervous, young man stealing furtive glances at you.

“My, my...” a greasy voice says from over your shoulder, “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in dump like this?”

You spin in your stool and smirk.

The lead dudebro of the fuckboi boy-band is trying to make a pass at you. He thinks he sounds smooth but his pick up lines are equal parts cliche and cringy and they come off polished and second-hand, like he’d heard it from a grainy, amateur porn movie and decided it was a winner.

“Hoping to find myself a handsome fella,” you purr, flashing him your most alluring smile.

Dudebro leans against the counter, reeking of smoke and sweat and virile fuckboi testosterone. He trails a lewd gaze from your eyes down past your neck, spilling indulgently between your breasts, along the sloping curve of your hips, down to the skin of your thigh peeking out from where you have one leg crossed over the other.

“How is that working out for you?”

Your lips tilt into a cat-like smirk, like a spider watching the squirming wreck of their prey struggle against the sticky fibres of a carefully designed web, “You tell me.”

“Beautiful, clever and single? Seems too good to be true.”

“Yet here we are.”

A dodgy grin hooks around Dudebros chapped lips. He slides a calloused hand along your thigh, his grip bordering on possessive.

“Here we are.”

You pause, stretching out a silence to create tension. Dudebro slides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You should know that I give generously to women who know how to please a man,” he says, “And you look like you know a thing or two about that...”

You lean over, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, “Why don’t we get a room and you can see for yourself.”

Dudebro shudders. You’ve got him.

Suddenly, a blur of grey and silver charges toward dudebro, slamming his head onto the counter. Dudebro crumbles into an unconscious heap by your feet.

The Mandalorian has swooped in to save the day. What a knight in shining fucking armour.

“What the fuck was that about?” You hiss, incensed, “I nearly had him!”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. Instead, he’s twirling his blaster between his fingers with well-practiced movements.

The other dudebro’s jump to their feet, steeling themselves for a fight.

Chaos erupts.

***

You’re quiet on your way back to the Razor Crest.

Your blood is boiling, your throat itchy and dry from all the insults you want to scream into the dull, black, bottomless void. The Mandalorian’s anger is an icy contrast to your fire; his broad shoulders steeled and his posture hard, unforgiving, like he’s still hunting down a bounty.

Your temper spikes as you watch him pay Peli Motto, your jaw clenched and your lower belly fluttering with a confusingly irritating concoction of venomous seething and hot, syrupy desire.

“It didn’t have to end in a fucking bar brawl,” you snip, waspishly, as he closes the hatch to his ship, “Thanks to you, though, it did.”

The Mandalorian gives you his usual response: silence.

Your nostrils flare.

“Three dudebros nearly escaped. It was lucky I was able to catch them before they raced off.”

Still no response. He’s too busy scaling the ladder up to the cockpit. You stomp up to the ladder and call up to him.

“You undermined me! And for what, exactly? Because some guy was getting a little touchy feely?”

You hear the engines roar to life and feel the ship rise, hover, then launch into the air.

Fuming, you pace the length of the ship, clutching the daggers in your thigh holster and hurling them in quick procession. They lodge themselves into the bullseye, trembling from the force of your strength.

“You’re making dents in my ship.”

Your jaw clenches, molars grinding as you storm toward the daggers and pull one of them out.

“So now you want to talk!” You snap, scathingly, wheeling around to face him.

Mando’s helmet tilts as though he were evaluating you. He takes three deliberate steps forward, forcing you take a surreptitious step back.

“I’m not exactly a conversationalist,” he states, his voice clipped and tight. He makes no effort to disguise the anger in his tone.

You ball your fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching, “So you’re not going to explain to me why you nearly let three of our bounty’s escape?”

There is a crackle and whir from the modulator as he speaks again, low and even with an intensity that sends shivers traipsing down your spine.

“You don’t know?”

You squint at him, wondering what he’s playing at. He acted rashly and impulsively; in a way that he’s never done before, betraying his years of careful training and defying all common sense. His timing was peculiar, too, just when you had suggested finding a room...

It hits you like a blaster to the chest, “You were jealous.”

Mando takes another step forward, neatly eliminating any space you had tried to regain. Your back is pressed against the wall as he takes another step closer, closer, closer , his arm reaching out grazing against your cheek, caging you in, closer, closer, closer—

He grips the handle of your dagger and pulls it out of the wall beside your head with a strong tug. The dagger dances between his fingers as he twirls it then parts the split in your dress just enough to slide the dagger back into its holster. His fingers glide along your inner thigh and you gasp, his touch electric.

“Not exactly,” he says, “Just a little protective.”

You exhale slowly, evenly, your chest fluttering with a thousand hummingbirds, “Is there a difference?”

He pulls his gloves off and trails his fingers along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, “I suppose not.”

The tension in the air is almost sentient, alive with a frantic, crackling energy that’s hotter than a heatwave in Tatoonie. Mando’s fingers dig into the spot where dudebro fuckboi had his hand back in the bar. Slowly, slowly, his hand snakes up your thigh, grazing across your hipbone, tickling the sensitive skin...

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you sneer, your upper lip curled.

“I guess I am,” he admits, his eyes boring holes through the visor of his helmet, “But you’re no angel, either.”

With that, he whirls you around and pushes you up against the wall, your flushed cheeks pressed up against the cool metal of his ship. You moan when he drapes a bandage across your eyes then tugs tightly at your hair. You hear him pull his helmet over his head, dropping it onto the ground with an obnoxious clang. Then he’s behind you, his voice in your ear, sultry and thick.

“You waltz around teasing me with those looks and that body of yours,” he grips your ass through the fabric of your dress, squeezing with bruising strength, “You drive me absolutely fucking crazy.”

He presses a searing kiss to your neck, teeth clamping around the flesh. You moan and arch against him, desire pulsing through your veins like velvety liquid chocolate.

“Then I saw you with our bounty, the way he eyed you, like he was undressing your right then and there,” the Mandalorian grazes his teeth along your neck, biting and nipping hard enough to draw blood, “Only I get to look at you like that. You’re mine.”

With a sudden burst of strength, the Mandalorian grips you by the waist and spins you around, pressing your back against the wall. He crashes his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, teeth scraping and tongues clashing, his mouth ruthless and bruising in the most delicious of ways. He kisses you with the hunger of a starved man, as though he’s deciding whether to savour you or swallow you whole.

The Mandalorian spills his lips down the column of your throat, biting and sucking and bruising, planting blossoming purple roses in your skin. Bite marks swell beneath his lips; a brand you’ll wear proudly for the next few days. It’s ironic how being claimed by the Mandalorian can make you feel so liberated.

He pulls away from you and clutches the zipper to your dress, tearing it from your body. You gasp, the cool air caressing your exposed skin. You feel the prickle of his eyes travelling across your body, capturing and collecting, memorising every detail.

And then he’s on you again, kissing your lips fiercely, stealing the breath from your lungs, swallowing your gasps, your moans, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. Your hands roam through his hair, tugging the roots, letting it melt between your fingers like honey.

The Mandalorian reaches behind you and rips off your bra followed by your panties, pulling an involuntary gasp from your lips.

“You’re going to have to pay for those,” you pant, “They weren’t cheap—“

You trail off into a moan as you feel the Mandalorian’s hot lips close around one of your nipples, teeth scraping and nibbling. You arch into his mouth, massaging his scalp as you play with his hair. His hand paws at your other breast, rolling the soft flesh in his palm, sending shivers throughout your body.

“Consider it payback for denting my ship,” he counters, and you hear his armour clink against the ships floor as though he were kneeling.

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he begins pressing butterfly kisses down your stomach, tasting the salty sweetness of your skin, tongue mapping out the canvas of your body. You moan when he bites your hipbone then travels lower, lower, until his hot breath is hovering over your slick entrance. He slings your leg over his shoulder and inhales your scent as though he were taking mental notes, cataloguing your natural fragrance with everything he knows about you, and then—

He dives in, curling his tongue over your clit, rolling the sensitive pearl of nerves as he drinks you in like sweet nectar. You moan and gasp and whimper his name, your voice hoarse as your lower belly crackles with ethereal-like energy; a nest of frayed, live wires sending currents of azure-blue electricity through your body.

Thick fingers push into you; first the index, then the middle finger, then both. Your back arches and your fingers fly into his hair, gripping hard enough to draw a groan from the back of his throat. It doesn’t take long for you to climax; you cry out his name as you shatter into oblivion, coasting a high that jolts you into hyperspace.

The Mandalorian kisses his way back up your body, and then he kisses you deeply. You slide your tongue over his lips, tasting yourself. Your head spins into a state of euphoric delirium.

“Your pleasure belongs to me,” he snarls, transforming your spine into a quivering live wire, “I’m in charge. Understood?”

“Yes, sir ,” you whisper, light as air, tone teasing.

“Good girl.”

The Mandalorian breaks away, the absence of his warmth leaving a ghosting greyness where he once stood. You shudder as you hear armour clicking and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. Then you feel his hands tug on the knot behind your head, keeping your bandage together, and the fabric falls away, returning your vision.

You blink, eyes adjusting. The Mandalorian stands before you in his armour, including his helmet. His codpiece is discarded; the lump of metal sits abandoned on the floor near your shredded clothes. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth as your gaze dips to his huge, thick cock.

“Wow,” you gasp, “You’ve been holding out on me, Mando.”

The Mandalorian steps toward you again, hooks his arms around your thighs, and hoists you up against the wall. The cold metal bites into your back, penetrating your skin and crawling down your spine. He presses his cock against your entrance.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a brat...”

Without further ado, He pins you to the wall of the Razor Crest with his long, thick girth, sinking into you with a loud groan and a roll of his hips. You cling onto the pieces of his armour and rest your head on the cool metal of his shoulder as the Mandalorian sets a pace. He rocks his hips slowly at first and you move your own hips against him, for once perfectly in sync.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping your thighs around his hips and pulling him further into your warm depths.

The Mandalorian snaps his hips against you, building up a fast, unrelenting pace. His movements are steady and deliberate, his grip plunging into your thighs, shooting sparks of pain and pleasure throughout your entire body. He’s silent for the most part, occasionally grunting and gasping in your ear when the muscles in your pussy contract.

“Yes,” you cry, biting into the fabric of his shoulder, “Just like that, don’t stop.”

A familiar tightness begins to curl inside your lower belly again, sloshing around with the chemical cocktail of champagne,

dopamine and serotonin. The feeling rolls and crashes within you, filling you up like seawater and sunlight and bright, glittering gold.

“Every time a man lays his hands on you, I want to cut them off,” he growls, each word punctuated with a sharp thrust, “Each eye that follows you makes me want to dig them out of the socket.”

“I never — oh — never knew you felt like — Ah, fuck yes — like that.”

“Bullshit. You knew...you’re just such a — fuck — fucking tease .”

“So what are you going to do—do about it?”

The Mandalorian groans and increases his pace, slamming his cock inside of you. He balances you with one, strong arm while the other snakes between the two of you and reaches up, up, up, his fingers wrapping around your neck, flexing gently. The added pressure makes you moan as you crest higher and higher, scaling the wobbling, tipsy-turvey ladder of a crashing crescendo—

Suddenly, the tight coil inside you snaps, spirals, sending pleasure surging through you, fluttering in your chest, pulsing through your arms and legs. Your pussy quivers around him, hugging his cock as the muscles spasm and quake with the force of your climax. The Mandalorian follows you over the edge, gritting his teeth and growling your name as he buries his twitching cock inside of you and comes, pouring his seed deep inside of you.

The air around of you smells like sweat and sex and grease and is filled with your combined pants. After a few lingering moments, the Mandalorian slides out of you and places you gently on the ground, tucking himself back into his pants. Your thighs are sticky with his dribbling cum and your head feels like it’s been crammed with fluffy cotton buds but your entire body tingles like light dancing off the ocean.

“That was—“

“Incredible...” you finish, biting your lip. The Mandalorian’s faceless mask stares down at you, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he’s gazing sheepishly at you, perhaps shy or maybe even aroused. Maybe he’s like you — an amalgamation of conflicting emotions, some old and nostalgic, some surprising and new.

***

Morning light drenches the Mandalorian’s quarters, shimmering like gold dust. You moan gently, consciousness slowly returning to you. You become aware of your surroundings, recognition settling in, delicious memories of being tied up and blindfolded while the Mandalorian worshipped your body...

The gentle caress of a warm kiss tickles your inner thigh.

You moan as the kisses dot along your thigh, climbing higher, teasing around your entrance, licking and nipping like he can’t get enough...

Your fingers fumble then clench around the bed sheets as his tongue finally laps at your clit, swirling and sliding in tantalising rhythms. You gasp and mewl, whispering words of encouragement as the Mandalorian feasts on you, plunging two fingers into your slick entrance. You begin to draw closer and closer to your climax, your toes curling as you throw your head back and moan—

A small whimper suddenly jolts you back into the present.

You sit up on your elbows and gasp, clambering to cover yourself as the Child stares up at you, distressed by the sound of your moans. His bottom lip trembles, his large eyes unusually glassy as he waddles up to you.

Beneath you, the Mandalorian shifts, and you turn away from him as he slides his helmet on.

“Hello baby,” you soothe, reaching down to scoop him up with one arm, “It’s okay, mummy’s here.”

The Child coos in delight as he snuggles into your embrace. You gently turn on your side to face the Mandalorian — who is now wearing his helmet — and place the Child between your bodies. He stares up at both of you and beams; his smile could light up a thousands suns.

When the Child begins to doze, you gaze up at the Mandalorian through your lashes, bracing your head on your hand bent at the elbow.

“I think he was jealous,” you whisper, stifling your giggles.

You hear the amusement in the Mandalorian’s tone, “Of you or of me?”

You shrug, leaning down to press a tiny kiss on the Child’s head, “Who knows?”

#the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #baby yoda #star wars imagine #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian fluff #fluff #smut #star wars smut #star wars fluff #fluff & smut #jealous #imagines #georgie writes

6K notes · View notes

wildlyglittering · 3 years

Text

Love in an Elevator

Happy Sunday everyone!

Thank you to those who have liked, commented and re-blogged my pieces so far - you are *chef’s kiss* awesome.

How’s the ACOSF discourse coming? I’m watching it all whilst slurping my tea but very much staying out of it. I’m cracking on with my fanfiction though, am feeling weirdly inspired lately which is rare but I’ll take it!

In a few weeks I’ll probably ask if anyone has any requests as I’m feeling up for the challenge. I’m slow but I’ll get there in the end.

In the meantime I hope you enjoy this one!

***

There was no getting out of the predicament she’d found herself in, no matter how much she begged - and she had begged.

She’d thrown in some negotiations and when those offerings failed, she’d feigned a nonchalance that was as transparent as water. The very last weapon in her arsenal had been to fling mean spirited insults but those spurred him on more.

Then again, she grinned to herself, didn’t she know they would?

Nesta’s arms were stretched upwards above her head, the backs of her hands pressed against the cool wall of the elevator. Two large hands held them in place with a grip that refused to relent, the skin of her captor so hot he must have been burning.

At some point his mouth had moved from hers to her throat, his head dipping down while she strained hers back, her neck arching to give him better access. She always provided an initial protest. I don’t want your filthy mouth on me. The waiter from the restaurant looked like he was able to provide more satisfaction than you and he could hardly stand. I think I should go home now before my evening ends in disappointment.

It was a game they played and they played it well.

That hot mouth travelled to a sensitive spot, lips skimming her skin to the point where they scarcely touched her. A whine escaped her, short and shrill enough that she’d hoped he hadn’t heard but from the quirk of his lips on her throat that she did feel, she knew he had.

“Patience is a virtue,” he trilled at her and her own lips turned into a sneer.

“I’m just trying not to die of boredom.”

Nesta’s voice was far too breathless for the barb to land and he chuckled.

“Sure,” he murmured, “and that’s why you sound like you’re a filly in a stable right now.”

“Shut up, Cassian.”

“Mmm. Make me.”

His mouth was on hers again, lips hot and greedy, tongue gliding against hers. He tasted faintly of the scotch he’d been drinking at dinner and he would be tasting red wine.

Cassian was somehow lazy and energetic with his kisses.

He kissed like his goal was to steal every breath she might ever make but he did it so leisurely, so languidly, like he’d managed to switch the passage of time off to allow for it. He pulled back his mouth to suck her bottom lip between his before soothing it over with his tongue.

One day he’d probably make someone combust from kissing them. Not her though, she’d built up an immunity.

Nesta squirmed; her muscles straining in her back. Thankfully yoga had made her limber over the years so that any discomfort was minimal but still, she needed to exhibit some form of protest.

Cassian slid his mouth from hers and glanced at her, it was a brief check in to make sure he wasn’t hurting her, his eyes quick to turn gentle even with his pupils dilated into blackness. She could tell all this from one look. Cassian had such expressive eyes.

Nesta mentally chased the endearment away and pouted. Cassian’s faced slipped from worry to amused, his lips tipping into an arrogant smirk. He chuckled and dipped his head down to suck on the skin of her collarbone.

“Nice try sweetheart, but it’s not going to happen.”

She let out a sigh, half irritation and half bliss, which turned into a moan when he doubled his efforts and sucked harder.

If Nesta had any decency, she wouldn’t be letting him doing this to her in the elevator of his apartment building. If Nesta had any decency, she would pull her body away instead of rubbing it against his.

If Nesta had any decency, she wouldn’t have been the one to make the first move as soon as the doors had closed.

Nesta’s eyes fluttered shut. Her heart pounded its rhythm in her chest and her blood rushed in her ears. Her pulse thrummed everywhere, everywhere, including the place Cassian hadn’t yet reached for.

Still, it was as though he read her thoughts, and he elevated some of the ache by pressing his pelvis against hers, his crisp dress pants rustling as he stepped further between Nesta’s legs.

He lazily flexed his hips against hers and she rocked back, her dress slipping further up her thighs, expanses of bare skin showing to an empty cube. His tongue pressed against the pulse point at the join between her neck and shoulder and she gasped, eyes flying open.

Every. Time.

Once Cassian had figured out what made Nesta’s body hum he’d seemingly made it his personal mission to turn a tune into an orchestral delight.

Her eyes refocused past the swimming haze that Cassian drowned her in and what she saw must have reached some part of her brain that hadn’t vacated her head.

The numbers on the elevator display kept increasing. Five, Fifteen, Fifty.

There was no danger of anyone calling the elevator, the apartment building was in an area of the city that was considered ‘up and coming’ which meant over three quarters of the complex were still up for sale. Cassian had been one of the first buyers and snagged the penthouse at a decent introductory rate.

Nesta’s eyes managed to sharpen into focus when they alighted on the black polished and exceptionally shiny tiles lining the ceiling, which, for all intents and purposes, acted like a mirror.

The tableau playing out did absolutely nothing to quell her thundering heartbeat.

Earlier Nesta’s hair had been preened into a slick French knot, teased into place by her hairstylist who implied Nesta had big plans for the evening. Nesta had dismissed those remarks with a wave of her hand and a scowl that could curdle milk.

Now, hours later, all was in disarray. Gold-brown strands fell onto her shoulders loosened by two firm hands that had buried themselves in her hair at the first available opportunity.

One of those shoulders was bare, the strap of her dress slid down when Cassian had made a beeline for the curve that contained the most freckles. His favourite shoulder, he’d once told her. She’d rolled her eyes at him on hearing that but made a point of wearing one-stap tops at family summer barbecues where he couldn’t reach for her.

At this vantage point Nesta was able to catch glimpses of herself from their mirror-twins but mostly what she saw was him.

Cassian’s hair was still in its low bun, which, unlike Nesta’s was messy by design. The expanse of his back covered her, his snow-white shirt stretched across solid back muscles. His jacket was discarded on the floor along with her bag and one of her shoes.

She’d managed to tug his shirt loose before he’d pinned her, the bottom of it now crumpled and ridden up at the back and in the shimmering, slightly distorted surface of the black tiles she saw his smooth, deep olive skin.

Her fingers twitched. She couldn’t wait to get into his apartment, to grab at the buttons and pull the fabric from him. Nesta had ruined, two, maybe three shirts of his now, not that he cared. With any luck she’d have him naked halfway across the lower floor of his open planned mezzanine. Maybe this time they’d make it up the stairs to his bed. Maybe they wouldn’t.

Cassian must have felt her fingers twitch because he shifted his hands upwards, from her wrists across her palms, to entwine his own between hers. They clung, entangled with each other, their knuckles surely turning bone white with the grip.

It wasn’t enough that she wanted to see his skin, she needed to feel it, smooth and warm underneath her fingertips. She envisaged her fingertips rounding over the muscles of his chest and abdomen and then drifting her palm over hard muscle to harder muscle still.

Every time they did this was like Nesta was receiving a present from the universe and it was a sobering thought that ultimately, they would have to decide the gift tree needed to stop gifting.

“Cassian,” she groaned and he lifted his head.

It always seemed to Nesta that she was more undone than him in these situations. Her clothes and hair were always mussed, her skin flushing red and her breath huffing from her mouth in harsh pants. Cassian always looked like he’d run a marathon without breaking a sweat.

There was lust in the way she’d said his name, of course there was. A man this decadent couldn’t hold his body against hers like this, couldn’t flex his hardness against her pelvis like this, for Nesta not to sound like she was about to unravel into a spool of thread.

But something else had crept in, something that sounded disturbingly like longing, like she wanted their ribs pressed as close as they could get so their hearts almost touched.

His eyes, half-lidded and hazy were staring into hers. Desire lived in them when he looked at her, but she also knew how he counted the freckles on her nose while he thought she was asleep and how he played with her hair when she dozed. Now his desire had a permanent room-mate who’d crept in uninvited.

These were things that would go unsaid. They hated each other, of course. They even had friends who encouraged the level of vitriol they could spew.

Cassian slipped back into arrogance as easy as he could breathe.

“That’s right, Nes,” he murmured, “say my name.”

Her eyes narrowed at him. If she could move her legs, she’d be tempted to give him a kick. “Bastard.”

The smile never left his face. “Oh, and don’t you know it.”

He kissed her again, shifting his pelvis away only to position one strong muscled thigh between her legs instead. She moaned against his mouth, feeling the determined throb of his erection through the fabric of his pants against her thigh. She ground down onto his leg, her hips rocking as she tried to quell her building ache.

Cassian moved both her wrists into one of his hands, freeing the other. His grip was looser now with just one fist holding her and if Nesta wanted, she could pull both her hands down and out with ease. She didn’t of course, despite her earlier protests. This game had well established rules.

Cassian’s free right hand slipped down to her bare knee, hooking behind it to draw it upwards towards his hip. They’d played this part of the game before too, Nesta instantly wrapping her leg around his waist, her dress indecently bunched around her hips.

There were many things to be thankful for in this world. The fact that Cassian’s apartment complex was semi-deserted. The fact that his frame shielded hers from any view if the elevator happened to stop and the fact that Cassian knew where the button was to turn off the security camera.

They’d learnt their lesson from experience.

Stern words had been directed to them both from the old security guard. “Please,” he’d pleaded, “no more sex in the elevator. I’m over 70, my heart isn’t so good. Make love to your girlfriend in your apartment.”

Nesta had been extremely quick to point out she wasn’t Cassian’s girlfriend which just made the old man raise an eyebrow in disbelief.

Perhaps Nesta was the only woman that Cassian invited over, perhaps she’d brought over an overnight bag once or twice and perhaps they’d hooked up after the cinema and a couple of dinners and even after a Sunday farmer’s market but it didn’t mean a thing.

“Ah,” Cassian sighed, pulling his mouth away from hers. “I know this pair – the red silk?”

His fingers trailed up her bare thigh and further until he reached the edge of her panties. The man had an unusual gift for accurately guessing her underwear.

The dress she’d chosen to wear out was a new one; sleeveless black lace with thick cut straps scooping into a scalloped neckline. Demure and elegant. Hints of cleavage and slight bare shoulders only.

The lower half was significantly shorter than what she would normally wear but pairing them with her highest heels had been worth it to see Cassian’s face when she entered the restaurant, his eyes skimming up her naked legs with an expression like he wanted to devour her.

This underwear was a particular favourite of his so she thought that tonight they should make an appearance.

His fingers, a maddeningly delicate touch, skimmed across the front of the fabric, pressing firmly with his thumb in just the right place for the briefest of seconds before pulling away.

Nesta’s body jolted and his eyes shone.

“Prick.”

“Hmmm pretty sure that’s Feyre’s pet name for Rhys.”

Well there was a mood killer.

“Ugh please,” she said, “please don’t mention my baby sister and that asshole while your hand is up my dress. I already spend enough money on therapy as it is.”

Cassian laughed, a sound that was rich and warm and thrummed through her. When Cassian laughed, he laughed with his whole body. “Oh, not finding Feyre and Rhys’ terms of endearment a turn on?”

She scrunched her nose.

“Well, that’s cute.”

“Shut. Up.”

Cassian grinned and kissed her again.

At first, when all this began, they didn’t talk about real life; Cassian’s job, Nesta’s job, weekend plans, friends or family. It was strictly skin on skin contact only. Those were the rules.

As time trickled past like sand in an hourglass, the rules warped until a significant portion had changed completely.

They ended up asking how the other was.

At first it was small talk, trying to be polite as they walked through shared the lobby of Cassian or Nesta’s apartment buildings but then Nesta had a bad day and Cassian seemed genuine in his question.

She told him about a potential client who no longer wanted her as their literary agent and how that rejection had stung. She’d believed in that book she told him, it was about sisters and redemption, and she explained how she’d cried when she first read the manuscript.

After that point they talked about their work. Nesta would glance at the architect plans Cassian had scattered about his drafting table and asked questions about how his projects were progressing and check her emails while he cooked dinner. There were times they sat opposite each other, Cassian while he drafted and Nesta while she read.

That was the other thing. There were dinners. Lunches. Weekend plans involving brunches and early morning Saturday jog’s around the park.

The one thing that did seem to be beyond their new rules was discussing friends and family.

Cassian and Nesta rarely spoke about their mutual acquaintances, often refusing to acknowledge they even had any. It was strange for Cassian to bring Rhys into conversation but he was obviously on Cassian’s mind from the phone call earlier.

They were done with their starters and waiting for the main’s when Rhys rang, Cassian answering because if he hadn’t, ‘shit would look suspicious.’

Nesta could hear the conversation from both parties even as Cassian twisted in his chair, phone pressed to his ear hunched away as much as possible to try and limit the sound.

It was confirmation from Rhys that him, Cassian and Azriel were still on for their tomorrow plans; a morning of manly activities followed by ‘lunch with the ladies’ to celebrate Cassian’s thirtieth birthday as Cassian had told them he wasn’t able to celebrate tonight, on his actual birthday.

Of course, Nesta hadn’t been invited to the group festivities. As far as all were concerned, Cassian and Nesta loathed each other and so Nesta let it slide. Cassian had essentially fobbed off the ones he loved the most with a work-based lie to have dinner with her. She thought it was a poor and unexpected exchange on his part.

Still, she had promised him a lovely birthday treat to make up for it.

Nesta gently pulled back from his kiss and watched Cassian pout.

“Now, who’s looking cute.”

“It’s my birthday. I want kisses.”

She looked up at him as coyly as she could, flexing her hips forward into his, gasping as the action moved his fingers across the front of her underwear. “Well as you’re now such a big boy perhaps tonight we can do that thing you’ve always wanted to do. It being a special occasion and all.”

Cassian’s pout dissipated and his eyes grew five shades darker.

“You mean...”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, Nesta. What the hell floor are we on? Why aren’t we top floor yet, c’mon!”

Nesta laughed. They were in the world’s slowest elevator which wouldn’t be an issue but they definitely wouldn’t be doing the thing in here.

The birthday gods or whoever Cassian just offered a sacrifice to in his mind were in an obliging mood as the ‘ding’ told Nesta they’d finally reached Cassian’s floor.

Somehow, with super human speed, he’d removed his hands from her body, scooped up the jacket, bag and shoe from the floor and turned to her, hoisting her up so she clung to him like a bear climbing a tree.

Nesta laughed again combined with a shriek of surprise, her legs wrapping around his waist, her hands buried in his hair. With a fumbling grace, his face pushed between her breasts, one hand full of their belongings and the other on her ass, Cassian moved them from the elevator into the hallway.

Her back thumped against the wall by his front door as Cassian dug around for his keys. Nesta tangled her hands further into his hair, making his bun as messy as hers.

“You know,” she said, “you should really consider getting a mirror installed above your bed. I think it would add a certain post-modern aesthetic.”

He momentarily paused his search to look up at her, his eyes hazy. “Yeah, you think?” he rasped. “If you want, sweetheart.”

“Not for me,” she replied with an air of indifference, moving her fingers to skim along the muscles corded in his neck. “Some woman you try and pick up might go for it.”

Cassian gave her a smirk and kissed the skin of her exposed cleavage before getting back to find his keys.

“Hurry,” she pleaded to hear Cassian mumble back, trying.

The click of the lock turning was the best sound she’d ever heard and they were barely through the threshold and into his darkened apartment before everything in Cassian’s hands, aside her, fell to a clatter on his solid floorboards.

Cassian simultaneously slammed the door and her back against the wall, his mouth stretching up to claim hers while she grabbed the back of his shirt, tugging it higher. She needed to get to his skin, needed to peel off his layers and throw off hers. If they made it to the bed for the first round of this evening it would be nothing short of a miracle.

It was only seconds before the apartment flooded with light where it had been pitch black before. The realisation that neither of them had turned on the lights came a second too late.

There was a chorus of loud and happy voices to accompany the lights.

“SURPRISE!”

It petered out to stunned silence and gasps. Cassian pulled back from Nesta his eyes filling with horror. Nesta didn’t want to look, but she was facing them, she couldn’t not.

Balloons and streamers dotted the apartment, a huge banner stretched overhead to say ‘happy birthday,’ tables full of food and alcohol primed and ready to go. There they were in front, the collective loved ones they didn’t talk about with a few extra of Cassian’s friends thrown in for good measure.

They just stared, eyes wide and mouths open. Silence.

There was a throaty chuckle followed by Amren’s voice. “Surprise? Well, I’d say it is.”

#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #i wrote something #acosf #nessian fanfiction #nessianfic #nessian fic #nesta x cassian

118 notes · View notes

kaisa-ryo · 3 years

Text

Itadori Yuji NSFW Alphabet

Warning: English isn't my native language!

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*

A = Aftercare (What he likes after sex)

Itadori likes to chat for a long time. Topics for communication are usually very diverse: from listing the different sex positions he wants to try, to discussing brands of cars, televisions, types of soaps and colors of underwear. In parallel, Yuji will stroke your back, causing your body to creep. So the love attraction that you already experienced with him before suddenly takes on a special intensity. When he has a need to receive your affection, he will begin to sink under the covers until he rests his nose against your chest or stomach. By this action, he asks you to play with his hair. At this moment, he may stop talking altogether, because instead of chatting, he will hum with pleasure. In addition, he will try with all his might and in various positions to snuggle up to you with his strong male body. And you will begin with great skill to stroke his hair and gradually increase the pressure in order to induce real ecstasy in him.

B = Body part (His favorite body part)

Obviously the hips and butt.

It is a blissful feeling when he squeezes your buttocks as he continuously enters you. And in the morning, when you start looking in the mirror, you notice that your thighs are scarlet. As you examine yourself, Itadori in the next room sees your stunned expression in the mirror and smiles proudly.

C = Cum (Everything about sperm)

He usually ends up on the aforementioned body parts. Although he experiences no less high pleasure when he watches how his hot semen flows down from your vagina. Or the mouth. And if you also swallow his seed, it will completely discourage him. It's so awkward and at the same time arousing when a girl literally lets a part of you into her. It's like you start making it a part of yourself. The part of his soul that passes through your body, moving on to the next stage of orgasm.

D = Dirty secret

To tell you the truth - there are a lot of them. Despite the fact that he almost always speaks with you frankly on intimate topics.

He often thinks about how he will kick you through the school desk and fuck you under the light of the graceful sunset that falls through the half-open blinds.

About how madly tempting it would be if you suck him off somewhere in the closet.

How to fuck you by the sea on soft sand.

There is no limit to these secret desires. Someday he will definitely tell you about all of them. And, of course, it will.

E = Experience

The highest level of experience in intercourse is masturbation. Yes, he has seen a lot of different videos on porn sites and instant messengers. And of course, he remembers them every single one. He has a lot of sexual fantasies. And they are all related to you. But they need to be implemented.

It will also ask you about your experience. For example, can you do a blow job. If you do not know about any sexual arts, he will certainly show you a video, explain how and what to do, ask if you like this objectively.

You can even say that he has much more indirect experience than you. But Yuji likes it. I like to teach you everything that he himself knows from the erotic videos he has watched.

F = Favorite position

In general, you have tried an innumerable number of poses all the time, but none can compare with the one when he presses you into bed from behind. When your penis plunges into the innermost and holds you so tightly that it begins to seem as if it has completely absorbed you.

G = Goofy (Are you serious at this moment?)

In most cases, yes. Even if this is not the first time you have been doing this, this does not mean that intercourse may not go well. But sometimes passionate excitement can outweigh all expressions of seriousness and turn it into entertainment or stress relief.

H = Hair (Is the hair ok?)

Not that he regularly tidies them up, but tries to make sure that both of you are comfortable. Maybe he prefers not to show it, but Itadori is really worried that you will be uncomfortable. Although the hair itself does not really interfere.

I = Intimacy (Romance)

Yes. And a lot.

Itadori literally melts when he sees you smile, the reason for which is his sweet and romantic actions. For him, there is no line between "boyfriend" and "spouse". And, of course, he regularly scrolls in his head how you have a large shared apartment, wedding rings, children ...

The guy is ready to even get you the moon from the sky, just to see your charming smile once again, to feel how you jump on his neck and say that you love him with all your heart. Sometimes he gets carried away - and then his hand reaches out to you to stroke your cheek, circle around your neck, say some banality, without which it is difficult for you to live. And sometimes you think that at such moments Itadori... looks a little more naive. But he does not see anything wrong with this and continues to cherish you, like the most priceless treasure on earth.

J = Jack off (masturbation)

It happens. And even after the start of your relationship.

In moments when you are far away, he records your telephone conversation, asks you to throw off your photos, turns on a home video taken once secretly from you ... then he starts "playing with his snake", quietly moaning your name. And if you start writing or talking on the phone, how much you want him now, it will just go crazy, imagining how he is fucking you on the bed right now. After all, it is such a pleasure to realize that your body receives only what you so passionately dream about and what you want.

— Mnh... yes, y/n... please continue...

K = Kink (Kinks and fetishes)

As mentioned earlier — home video. Yuji prefers to do this in secret, since he knows it will embarrass you. And besides, you will immediately guess why he does it.

He also has one fetish that you know about. Namely — voyeurism. When you change clothes, stand in the shower, or try on a swimsuit, he closely monitors your actions while standing outside the door. So he initiates you into his intimate world, where you can become his muse.

In addition, he has several types of perversions that he considers esoteric. For example, he really loves to admire your naked body and inhale its aroma, starting from the neck. This also applies to your personal things — your scent is also felt on them, and Itadori constantly examines and sniffs your things, hoping to feel your scent. It's kind of like a drug for him, and he likes to wake up in the morning and feel that your hair is still felt on his neck. And if you put on his clothes... it seems like some kind of new fetish. Now on his things your next smell. It's fucking exciting...

L = Location (Favorite places to have sex)

It makes no difference. The place does not depend on the amount of pleasure received from the process. True, you still have to find compromises. Because if it is convenient for him to hold your legs, simultaneously entering your bosom again and again, then it is quite problematic for you to be in the air, holding on to his shoulders. Thus, you get less pleasure. But do not think, he is not a rabbit, to fuck you wherever he wants, the guy will definitely ask if you want it. And yes, he does have a line between "normal" and "too public."

M = Motivation

All your movements are in clothes, which emphasizes the whole aesthetics of your body. As if hypnotized, Itadori watches your curves, how they change when you change posture or movement. When you are in your underwear, you specifically approach him and start to flirt playfully. When you wear his things, as mentioned by the way earlier. And oh shit, how turns him on when you show yourself a new swimsuit and ask to rate.

N = No (Which won't do)

Anything that will harm you. It doesn't matter whether it's big or small. If Yuji feels that he can be rude to you, then he will definitely warn you to tell when it hurts. After all, on the verge of orgasm, he may not notice that you are uncomfortable or unpleasant.

O = Oral (Likes to receive or to give)

More is to give. His head is blown away because you are moaning his name sweetly and loudly, demanding more. Your morning kiss and praise for being amazing last night will give him confidence. And then, perhaps, your next night will be even better than the previous one.

Although one should not ignore his desires with needs. The guy will be very upset if, for some reason, you do not give him pleasure with oral sex.

P = Pace

In this he is a real professional Yuji knows perfectly well how to stretch pleasure and orgasm as much as he wants. A small effort of will is enough for him, which he has at least a spoonful.

At first he will start with smooth movements, and then gradually accelerate. At the same time, it will be easy to prolong your pleasure, because you will feel the strongest sexual charge directed in your direction. And with each strong orgasm, you will experience not only physical, but also mental pleasure.

Q = Quickie

From slow and smooth thrusts to wet and hot suddenness, it makes you feel your own intoxication, as if you are high. Superhuman abilities do give good results. As it turned out, not only in sports.

R = Risk (Ready to experiment)

In other matters, he is unlikely to refuse, since he himself has long wanted this. But Itadori is a responsible person, so he will think a hundred times and make sure that you accept the offer accurately. Do not be surprised that he will act agitated during such sex. He, like you, understands that this risk is serious and can create real problems.

S = Stamina (Stamina)

You should prepare caffeine and energy drinks, as this machine will squeeze everything out of itself, despite the fact that you yourself were exhausted already in the third round. He will not be enough all the time, and if you ever start to black out from fatigue, the guy will scream that he has not finished yet. It even forces you to limit the number of your intercourse per week, as his stamina is exhausting. And you've told him about it more than once.

T = Toys

In this regard, Yuji is more cunning and impudent. He always refuses to have toys for himself, although he himself does not mind tormenting you with a vibrator or even slipping it into your panties, justifying this by the fact that he does this to keep you close, at the same time showing his concern for you, flickering his ghost in your head. But he's not lucky that you're not such a naive fool. Despite this, the guy gets hit on the head, with a very convincing request never to do this again.

U = Unfair (Does he like to tease)

Very much not even against, but not much into it. Over time, it bothers both you and him, and all actions cease to be unpredictable.

V = Volume (How loud is it)

Pretty loud. But in the volume of your moans, you take over.

They start with stifled growls, to groans because of how fucking amazing and sexy you are. And it all ends like a sugary, but trustworthy silence. Your loud moans of pleasure are a sign that you both were good.

W = Wild card (Random headcanon)

Once there was a case where Yuji could not come. He felt that he could not come even if he wanted to. His arms and legs seemed to be glued together, and he himself froze. I started to panic, think of reasons in my head. You, in turn, noticed this too, and when you asked what was the matter, Itadori turned pale and speechless. After that, he sat down on the bed, and here you started to worry. It turned out that he had masturbated too much over the past month, which has formed a habit of certain stimulation of the penis. At the news, you laughed, and he blushed. But at the same moment he exhaled with satisfaction. The guy was glad that the reason was not in you and not in his health.

X = X-ray (What's under the clothes)

16 cm. During erection ± 2.5

Y = Yearning (How high is the sex drive)

Sex serves him for several purposes: relieving stress, sexual tension, just as a way to prove his love for you... Sometimes the beginning of sexual intercourse depends on his arousal. But for your sake, he's trying his best to hold back. Resorted to masturbation instead of sex, but as you already know, even this has its own problems. Seeing him so depressed, you also do not bypass the mutual concern. Even if you don't really want to do this or you are not in the mood, you will never refuse him. Although you will never let him relax and stop controlling himself. Do not miss the opportunity to talk to him about this, because, of course, he also needs it - to get rid of an inferiority complex and so on...

Overall, ± 8/10

Z = Zzz (How quickly falls asleep)

Quite surprisingly, even in spite of his endless chatter before going to bed, as soon as he put his head on the pillow and lean on you, he falls asleep instantly. You feel him in your arms like a small hyperactive child who constantly wants to tell you something or, out of habit, make a row. And myself in his arms — protected by a large and strong wall.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk imagines #jjk x y/n #jjk #jjk x you #jjk itadori #jjk yuji #itadori yuuji imagines #itadori yuji x reader #alphabet

132 notes · View notes

watermelonlipstick · 3 years

Text

Dreams, Chapter 14

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 14

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1976

Summary: Once more, a moment at the bar shifts the relationship between Sam and the reader irrevocably.

Warnings: angst, FLUFF, swearing, s l o w b u r n, this section has a little gentle smut

It was sweet, actually, taking things slowly enough that Sam didn’t feel an acute sense of betraying Dean. You started kissing in stolen moments like teenagers, accidentally honking the horn of the Impala before taking over from the day shift and walking in shyly with swollen lips and mussed hair, tasting the orange juice off of his lips after breakfast.

Never more than that save a fumbled glancing grope here or there, Sam sometimes having to break away for a long walk in the brisk winter air before going to sleep with you at night, you taking extended showers to deal with the building tension. He simply wasn’t ready, and the additional closeness was already so much more than you’d had anyway, almost too much stimulation to handle. Not that it really made sense to you, that this was somehow different in his mind, but it didn’t matter.

Dean came to you in your dreams with increasing regularity. He started teaching you how to go to places you hadn’t been, or hadn’t been with him, slowly reconstructing the bar and the cabin so you could show him around your new life. Sam had been right, of course, and Dean did love the bar as you showed it to him, scuffed floors and ever-present stickiness of the cash register included.

It felt pretty real. And who’s to say it wasn’t, because it was really Dean and it was really you, the whiskey really poured and made his lips taste peaty like they always had. More than that, it was enough. You were able to relish your time together, drink Dean in while you slept feeling less desperate knowing that you’d see him again soon. The days got easier too, waking up warm inside from Dean and outside from the firm protection of Sam’s body. Neither Winchester ever told you what they did or talked about in their time together, but Sam got looser and looser. You had almost forgotten how goofy he could be, how enthusiastic and fun he was Before Everything, but the longer he spent dreaming with Dean the more he reminded you of that guy—the affectionate, quick-witted boy you’d split cans of Spaghetti-o’s with at Bobby’s a lifetime ago.

Going to work felt like a little game sometimes. Periodically one of the customers would comment on the way Sam always seemed to wait until you were right in front of the fruit before going to refill it so he had to press the length of his body against yours. Often you’d have to help him finish his side work before closing up together, having hung off him all night in a way that prevented him from getting everything done until it was just the two of you together in the darkened bar cutting up limes as your shoulders brushed against each other. The regulars thought you were finally comfortable enough to show them a little PDA, that you’d been secretly like this all along, and there was no other explanation you could give them. Like everything else, you rolled with their assumptions and got that same giddy-hot feeling in your chest and throat every time they said it—like you were being teased about some juvenile crush.

The Wednesday it finally happened you were having a normal day at work, catching those little jabs after Sam snaked a bottle opener out of your back pocket while you rattled a shaker of martinis. He kissed your hair with a smirk when he passed by you, carefully not jostling your arms as you poured the drinks into chilled glassware. When you went to refill Joe’s pint of Spotted Cow, you noticed the tap start to stutter and foam the last dregs of an empty keg and raised your head to tell Sam it was out.

He was leaning on his elbow, ankles crossed where the long stretch of his body met the floor and talking to Jake, clearly telling some joke from the way Jake cracked up and gave him that snapping handshake men often exchange instead of hugs. The smile on his face was just smug enough to show he knew whatever he’d said was funny, and more than anything he looked relaxed, looked comfortable. Looked like he belonged there, the reflection off green glassed whiskey bottles making his eyes seem lit from within. You decided to change the beer yourself and leave him in peace; the bar was slow enough that he could handle it alone for a few minutes, limited cocktail experience or not.

Every time you went into the basement at work to change a keg you were amazed that Sam even fit in the room where they were stored; it was back at the end of the walk-in cooler with ceilings so low even you felt claustrophobic there. Aluminum kegs in varied states of fullness stacked by their respective lines, marked by stickers and tags of indeterminate ages, were in a sort of half-organization around the walls. Based on how fast Sam changed them when one went empty, you were pretty sure he would know instinctively which ones were which, but as it was you had to climb around the makeshift aluminum jungle gym to trace each looping hose back to its source. You finally found the empty Spotted Cow and the line that would tie it to its respective tap in the corner. To get there you’d had to hop on top of two others, one foot on a fresh Bud Light and the other on some Coors while your spine curved to avoid hitting your head on the ceiling. Unfastening the tap from the empty keg, you yanked back to tug it off and slipped on some extra moisture on top of the metal. It sent you off balance enough that you grabbed at the tubing at the end of the tap you were holding in an effort to stay on your feet.

The hose pulled out of the line system and sprayed the rest of the beer within all over the room and you, brown ale getting in your mouth and eyes and sending you careening to the ground, tugging the empty keg on top of you with a huge clatter. You rolled it off of you, thanking God it was empty, and tried not to think too hard about the age of the beer remnant mixture leeching off the cement floor into your t shirt as you got up. By the time you got back to your feet, Sam was standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath with a look of concern on his face.

“Are you okay? What happened?” he asked, surveying the scene.

You still had the keg tap and hose in your hand, completely detached from the wall. “I was going to change the Spotted Cow but I couldn’t reach the back so I had to climb and then I…slipped.” Sam’s face smoothed in relief when he saw the smile spreading across your face. “And broke it.”

“But you’re okay?”

“Probably going to have a pretty kickass bruise tomorrow and I’m covered in beer but yeah, I’m okay. Sorry I pulled it out; do you know how to fix it?”

Sam smiled, his dimples carving into his cheeks. “I’ll figure it out.”

You pouted around your embarrassment and sheepishly handed him the tap. “I should probably get back upstairs,” you offered, shaking your wet shirt away from your body.

“I’m, uh, I’m ready.” Sam murmured, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

“Do you need me to go get tools or something?”

“No—I mean, like, ready.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully and the emphasis crashed into you hard enough that it almost sent you careening back into the kegs.

“Ready ready?” you breathed, sounding stupid and not caring, wanting to bound over and leap into Sam’s arms.

“Ready read—” and Sam was cut off by your lips on his, taking a sharp inhale against your cheek as he kissed you. After a beat of electric shock Sam twined into the hair at the nape of your neck, his fingers hot from washing dishes and soothing in the air of the cooler. You slid down the soft flannel of his shirt and wrapped up fistfuls of it, desperate to have him closer, closer, closer, feel the firm slopes of his body when you weren’t sleeping. He groaned into you and it sent a shudder down your spine as you slipped down the edge of his jaw to kiss along the broad expanse of his neck, tendons squirming under your lips and the thrum of his blood pumping fast and hard.

Sam moved a hand to your lower back and bent down to scoop under a hamstring, gently but swiftly lifting and spinning so you were pressed up against the doorframe by his body, hitched up in the air to better reach his face. You gasped and felt Sam’s smile against your mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist and greedily roaming the muscles in his chest as they flexed to carry you. The way the wall pinned you to Sam made it so easy to rock into him, feel the metal of his belt buckle through the worn cotton of your jeans and the heat seep through his shirt into the sticky beer drying on yours. “I—oh fuck—” Sam stammered between kisses as you rolled your hips, trying to balance the need to catch his breath with the pent-up magnetism between you. “We have—Jesus Christ, ah—there are customers upstairs,” he finally spit out.

That zapped you back to reality, finally breaking away to press your forehead against his. “Fuck,” you moaned. A long second passed, sharing air between you and Sam as he held you suspended. “Do we care?” you murmured hopefully against closed eyes, smiling.

Sam chuckled, breathy and low as he lowered you to the ground softly. “Unless you have another way of paying rent.”

You gently knocked your head into Sam’s chest. “Man, couldn’t sit on that for a few more hours? How am I supposed to work the rest of the night?”

He ran his tongue over his molars as he grabbed the tap from where it had fallen to the ground, accepting the gentle teasing. “I just—I don’t know, you were just standing there and it all kind of—it just made sense all of a sudden.”

“The stale beer did it for you? If I knew that I would’ve broken all of the lines ages ago.” You bit your lip against your smile, suddenly a little bashful and exposed and feeling every drying drop of beer across your chest.

“I um, might have another t-shirt in the car if you want me to check.”

“Thanks. I can get it though, can I have the keys?”

Sam snaked a hand into his pocket and you could see the muscles in his forearm ripple as he grabbed them for you. He handed the keys over, his face open and vulnerable even with the hint of smirk. Tapping the keys against the doorframe you stalled for time, wanting more than anything to have even just an hour without responsibilities. You reached out and stroked his arm. “You’re sure about this? It’s okay if you’re—”

Sam’s head bobbed quickly. “Yeah. Yes, I’m sure.” He looked solemn, resolute in a way that reassured you. “I’m sorry it took—”

“Nothing to be sorry about. I just wanted to check.”

He closed the step between you, tucking a chunk of hair behind your ear and gazing down into your eyes. “I know. And thank you for that.” He kissed you on the forehead, grinning into your hair. “Now go change, you smell like a frat party.”

You pushed playfully against his chest and made your way upstairs, leaving him smiling at your back as you walked away.

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 15

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

Tags: @sams-sass @vxnderlindes @deanwinchesterswitch @akshi8278 @itsjensenanddean @flannellover67 @weepingwillowphoenix @tj-drinks-tea @whatareyousearchingfordean @winchestergirl2 @winchest09 @samwisethegr8 @nobxdy @nurse-sarahrn @lovers-in-japan-reign-of-love @deanwanddamons @stressedoutkitten @winchestershiresauce @tatted-trina6 @percico-heronstairs @downanddirtydean @queenoftheunderdark @lyarr24 @waywardwifey @thinkinghardhardlythinking @wonder-cole @sergeantsea @peachyafshawn @tjfinnigan @that-one-gay-girl @calaofnoldor @daringvixon @fairlyspnfanfic @treat-winchesterswith-kindness @samfreakingwinchester @lovelyrocker @mrspeacem1nusone @theveridianmoon @underc0vercryptid @kpwatsonn

And as always, if you want to be on my taglist, were on the taglist and changed your handle, or I lost track of it, please let me know!

92 notes · View notes

moonlitceleste · 3 years

Text

Elevator Love (Ch. 1)

A/N: Welcome to my first multi-chaptered fic! This was supposed to be a one-shot but I kept writing and here we are. I’m not super happy with this, so I’m probably going to rewrite it eventually. Staring at my document hasn’t seemed to help so far, so I’m probably gonna take a break on this and work on requests. For now, just sit back and enjoy :D

Marinette gnawed on her lip nervously as her fingers toyed with the ladybug keychain on her white crossbody purse.

Her eyes were glued to the towering Wayne Enterprises building before her. The big “W” atop it seemed to stare her down, issuing a silent challenge for her to walk past its doors.

“You got this, Marinette!”

The heroine smiled weakly at Tikki’s assurance—although she did appreciate the sentiment, Marinette wasn’t quite sure she could agree.

She was not prepared to meet Tim whatsoever.

Sure, they had been friends for nearly two years—but regardless, Marinette couldn’t help but stress.

It had all started when Tim decided to commission MDC for a few pieces, offering a large sum of money in exchange for her efforts. Despite being doubtful of whether or not he was truly who he claimed to be, Marinette accepted the request.

Soon enough, back-and-forth emails progressed to casual texting, which led to an eventual friendship. The two seemed to click naturally, which was evident in their smoothly-flowing conversations.

Tim knew everything there was to know about her (barring her identity, of course), yet they had never met in person.

He was the co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and she was a prominent designer that moonlighted as a superhero—finding time to video chat one another was hard enough.

But now that Marinette had finished université, she had nothing tying her down to Paris. 19 was a young age to be done with school, but her life wasn’t exactly normal.

That’s why a few weeks before graduation, Marinette decided to email Bruce Wayne.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; Tim had made an offhand remark about how he wished he could be there for her graduation, and the cogs in Marinette’s brain began to turn. Maybe he couldn’t come to Paris, but she could go to Gotham.

Once her mind was made up, it was only a matter of planning.

It was surprisingly easy to get ahold of Tim’s father; from then on, everything else fell into place.

Perhaps attempting to surprise someone as smart as him went against her better judgement, but it was too late to turn back now.

Marinette’s phone pinged, and she scrambled to press her thumb to its home button. Speak of the devil.

Mr. Wayne

It’s ready.

Tell your name to the receptionist at the front desk, and she’ll give you a lanyard with a pass into Tim’s office as well as a set of directions.

I apologize again for not being there to guide you; unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to.

Marinette tucked the gift box she was holding under one arm, freeing her hands to type out a response.

Marinette

Thank you so much for your generosity, M. Wayne!

I really appreciate all your help in planning this, and for allowing me to surprise Tim in the first place.

Despite your busy schedule you’ve gone through so much trouble to help me. I really can’t thank you enough!

Once she pressed send on her last message, Marinette inhaled deeply.

Her hands moved to smooth down the soft fabric of her blush pink dress.

It was an admittedly simple ensemble, but the billowy sleeves and fluttery skirt gave it a delicate flair. Her white strappy sandals, circle purse, and wavy half-up braided hairstyle tied it all together nicely.

Marinette checked herself over one last time to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. She tucked her phone into her purse, grabbed the box containing Tim’s gift, and turned to look at the imposing building with a burst of newfound confidence.

Here we go.

“To the right…” Marinette muttered. “Or was it to the left?”

The designer scrunched her nose in confusion, turning around in a circle to better survey the building.

She had already obtained the lanyard and directions, but decided to make a last-minute detour to the bathroom. It shouldn’t have been a problem since Marinette was a few minutes early, but now she was lost. Sure, the place had a fairly open floor plan, but it was enormous! She couldn’t be expected to navigate this.

In hindsight, maybe deciding to deviate from her original schedule had been a mistake.

Marinette sighed and started walking. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, so wandering aimlessly was her only other option.

Well, it wasn’t her only option—she could easily use her Ladybug magic to give herself a push in the right direction, but Tikki would disapprove. Oh, and it was wrong to use her powers for selfish gain. Marinette totally remembered that.

Turns out she didn’t even need to use her Ladybug powers, though; it only took a few minutes of searching for her to stumble across what she was looking for.

About 10 meters away was a set of elevators lined up against the wall. A glowing “up” arrow was visible on the panel beside a pair of open steel doors.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the sight of the open elevator. She promptly broke into a jog, careful to keep her speed somewhat appropriate for the environment. The doors started to close, and Marinette’s heart raced faster. There was a shadowed figure inside, but due to the angle they likely couldn’t see her.

“Wait!” she called as loudly as she dared.

It was almost funny how similar the experience was to her lycée days.

Marinette pushed the thought to the back of her mind—she would rather not taint her day with memories of that dumpster fire.

She turned her attention back to the elevator, whose doors had retreated. Thankfully, the person inside heard her. Marinette slowed her pace as she covered the last few meters, but was mindful to not walk obnoxiously so.

As she approached her destination, it became increasingly apparent that whoever was inside was remarkably tall.

Ugh, she could practically hear Tim’s jest in her head—are you sure it’s not just because you’re short? He loved to poke fun at her height with short jokes, even though he was only 8 cm taller than her.

Anyways, despite her petite stature, Marinette was sure the person inside would be considered tall by any standards.

She prepared a friendly smile, a “thanks” on the tip of her tongue when they finally came into view.

The first thing she saw was a pair of worn black men’s work boots on what was an admittedly toned body.

Marinette didn’t let her eyes linger on the muscles there, rather opting to trace her gaze from the man’s body up to their face. And wow, was that a gorgeous face.

She wasn’t the type to fall for someone based on appearance alone, but Marinette would be crazy to think this wasn’t the most attractive person she’d ever seen.

He had messy black hair with a pure white streak in the front, tousled to perfection in a way that would make a supermodel jealous. His brilliant green eyes were pools of emerald, richer than any shade she had seen before. Marinette would gladly drown in them.

Speaking of his eyes, he was looking at her with his captivating gaze and mesmerizing face...

Marinette would forever deny swooning at the sight. She would never swoon.

(She totally did.)

Say something! she scolded.

“Uh, than-thank you.”

Oh no. It was the stutter.

Not just a stutter, but the stutter. The one that only appeared when she was nervous and/or talking to hot guys.

Marinette had long outgrown it—or at least, she thought she had—but apparently now it was back with a vengeance.

Her face heated up, and she moved forward to press the button to her designated floor before taking her place some distance away from the man. She turned her head away in embarrassment, hair shielding her face so he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

If she had been looking up, perhaps Marinette would have been prepared for the flood of incoming mass. But she was too busy cursing herself to notice the group of people entering until she felt a nudge on her right side.

Marinette squeaked at the stack of boxes that was suddenly in front of her face and looked up to see a small group of workers entering the elevator, pushing a large platform truck stacked with packages. She shuffled on instinct to make more room.

The cart seemed way too big to fit, especially with the capacity of the elevator. Someone would have to contort themselves, or at the very least they’d be squished up against one another uncomfortably.

Marinette watched as they pushed the platform truck in all the way. It left the tiniest bit of wiggle room, just enough space for someone to squeeze past.

The designer found herself slowly edging towards her left each time another person wiggled their way past the load.

The elevator wasn’t too crowded, and the process went relatively smoothly—that is, until the last worker attempted to get inside.

He had a build somewhat similar to her Papa: tall and large, so his struggle was understandable. It took a minute of grunts and loud sighs, but he managed to slip past the obstruction and into the elevator.

His large frame, however, meant less space for everyone, and Marinette felt the sudden impact of being shoved.

She couldn’t help the soft yelp that fell out of her mouth as her feet stumbled, and before she knew it her left side was firmly pressed up against someone.

Oh god. It was Hot Guy. Of course it was him.

She pressed her lips together in mortification, arms squeezing Tim’s gift to her chest even tighter.

“Sorry.”

Marinette nearly jumped as the husky voice spoke quietly next to her ear. Her head whipped towards the direction it came from, which wasn’t exactly hard to place. There was only one person on her left side.

She turned her head to face the man with the white streak. She had to crane her neck awkwardly in order to properly see him, which really put into perspective their height difference.

His green eyes were sincere, and Marinette could see the apology in them.

The lack of space wasn’t his fault whatsoever, but it was nice to see someone care about her boundaries.

“U-um, it’s okay.”

Marinette smiled at him shyly, then diverted her eyes away. Her brief burst of courage could only take her so far.

Before she knew it, the ride was over. The elevator stopped with a ding, and coincidentally enough, everyone was headed to the same floor.

Marinette fished out the set of directions Mr. Wayne had written from her purse, skimming over them once more. Her stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of finally meeting her best friend.

She barely noticed the workers pushing out the platform truck or Hot Guy walking away, the outside world long forgotten.

Marinette’s body went on autopilot, following the instructions on the paper until she found herself stopped in front of a sleek door. She didn’t know what it was made of, but she was glad it wasn’t glass like many other things in Wayne Enterprises. That would make her surprise a lot harder to pull off.

Above the key card security system on the left was a name plate, nearly identical to others she had passed on her way here. The name Tim Drake was written in elegant silver cursive letters, the metal gleaming as if it were brand new.

Marinette’s chest tightened in anticipation as she pulled out the lanyard Mr. Wayne had given her. She took a deep breath before knocking twice.

There was a short pause before a familiar voice responded.

“Who is it?”

She scanned her card and opened the door.

“Marinette?!”

A/N: For reference, Marinette is 5’3” (160 cm) and Jason is 6’4” (193 cm), so there's a 13" (33 cm) difference. I tried to use French terms and measurements so it'd feel more like Marinette's perspective.

And yea, I'm not super proud of this so I'm probably gonna rewrite it in the future. I have a bunch of other WIPs to work on though, so sorry in advance for my wacky updating schedule!

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

#maribat #celestewrites #timari #platonic timari #jasonette #cel's fics

242 notes · View notes