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moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami · 3 months

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— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ pt.2

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: after lord eros' silly little trick, you're now forced to deal with the consequences— more specifically, in the form of a lovestruck luke castellan.

warnings: tons of corny pick-up lines

genre: still very much a romcom

part 1

note: thank you, thank you! all your support for pt.1 means the world to me! really, i couldn't be more grateful 𖹭 i hope you think this brings justice to the first half 𖹭

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

“What do you mean you can’t do anything?” You suppressed the urge to shriek, settling for gritted emphasis instead. You crossed your arms across your chest, your foot tapping impatiently against the wooden floorboards of the Big House.

“Exactly what it means.” Chiron responded, looking at Luke with more amusement rather than concern.

“But he's under a spell,” You reasoned in disbelief. You might have spilled over your words while you explained the rundown to Chiron, but they were coherent enough to at least get that point across.

“It’ll wear off eventually, kid.” Mr. D downed an entire can of diet soda in one go before procuring another one in his outstretched hand. He snickered at the intent puppy eyes Luke was giving you. “That type of love magic won’t last long. Best to let it run its course than tamper with it.”

“But–” You wanted to argue before Mr. D stopped you. He pushed his feet up on his desk.

“Look, at least this proves that your boyfriend actually loves you.” He gave you a pointed look. What does that even mean? “Now, leave.”

You huffed indignantly, but decided against speaking further. You begrudgingly turned around and pulled Luke up by his arm, guiding him towards the narrow hallway that led to the foyer.

“When did I become your boyfriend?” Luke huddled closer to you, whispering as you made your way to the front door.

“You didn’t.” You told him plainly. You shook your head. “You aren’t.”

“Yet.” He responded, his tone a bit mischievous but his gaze sure and determined.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

You leaned your elbows against the table of the crowded Arts and Crafts Center, your chin resting against the pad of your thumbs. You studied Luke with a contemplating gaze.

“I hit you with one of Eros’ arrows.” You told him. This was hardly the proper place to have this conversation, but the rest of the Aphrodite cabin practically hauled you to the building to begin Valentinkering? Valenmaking? (whatever in Tartarus they decided to call it this year).

“Well, I guess you could say I’ve been lovestruck by you.” He said, giving you a stupid little wink as he mirrored your posture.

“Gods, Luke. That was corny as hell.” You flushed almost as crimson as the container of beads in front of you. “Also, I’m serious.”

“And who said I wasn’t?” He challenged. He smirked against his fist, wiggling his eyebrows.

You snorted. “The fact that you’re under some valentine voodoo makes all your intentions questionable.”

“You wound me.” He feigned offense, pouting as he clutched at the fabric of his shirt above his chest. “To be fair, my train of thought has always been questionable when it comes to you.”

“On a more serious note, I do remember the whole arrow thing.” He told you, his lips pursed. “I don’t blame you; it was a complete accident. It just feels… odd.”

“Again: unimpressed.” You buried your face into your hands, the second hand embarrassment of his poor attempt at flirting was overwhelmingly potent. Besides, it was difficult not to react when he looked at you so intently, like he was trying to memorize every minute detail of you.

Your ears perked up, worried. “You feel odd?”

“No,” He shook his head. His expression was perplexed, maybe a bit incredulous too. “That’s the thing. I feel completely normal.”

“That is weird.” You agree. You wrap the string in between your fingers around his wrist, measuring it to his size. "Maybe it was just a prank?"

“No. If anything, it’s more like I can’t hold my tongue.” He shrugs. “I can’t help but say what I think.”

“Would that explain the flirting?” You tease. All cheeky, but with a hint of curiosity hidden beneath the humor.

He leaned in, smirking. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

You stare at him, tilting your head. He returns your gaze just as intensely, brown eyes fixed onto yours. He raises an eyebrow as if to question your silence. There was something magnetic between the two of you, pulsing and pulling you closer— maybe not physically, but definitely in other ways unbeknownst to you.

“Woah!” Percy exclaimed with an accusatory edge to his tone, his eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and his palms raised as if to distance himself from you. “Respect for the children, maybe? Consider shielding my young impressionable eyes from this trauma?”

“Percy!” You squeaked rather uncharacteristically. Annabeth trailed behind closely, pushing a leg over the bench to sit beside you. You smiled at her, tugging her closer by placing your arm around her shoulders.

“Annabeth,” Luke called. “Trade places with me.”

Annabeth furrowed her eyebrows in confusion before narrowing her eyes in suspicion. “No.”

“Come on.” He persisted. He leaned in, almost conspiratorial. “You know, the Stoll brothers have an extensive archive, and I think I may have heard word of them having that Rem Kolhaas book you've been raving about."

Annabeth stopped to consider the offer before ultimately conceding. She stood up from her seat. “That’s a big bribe for a small favor.”

“Know what prices to pay to win your battles.” Luke muttered as he sidled up next to you, grinning triumphantly. His fingers played with the hem of your weathered camp shirt. “Sacrifices aren’t much in the face of victory.”

“Did you just use a bad battle strategy as a flirting tactic?” Annabeth scrunched her nose in distaste. “Gross.”

"Done." You finish tying up the ends, letting the red bracelet dangle in Luke's line of vision.

"It looks so pretty, baby." He compliments you, holding out his wrist. You proudly put it on for him. "Not as pretty as you though."

You scoff. Both Annabeth and Percy imitate gagging noises.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The only time you ever truly left each other’s side were the few moments of reprieve before dinner where you’d returned to your cabins. The older campers insisted on making the meal a whole affair, complete with a romantic candlelit set-up and a string quartet to serenade everyone. Chiron decided to indulge the request and sent everyone back to freshen up.

“Have fun with your boyfriend?”

“Christ!” You jumped in your spot, turning around to see Eros laying on one of the bunks. His arms were tucked underneath his head, his smile suggestive and knowing.

“Lord Eros,” You bowed.

“That is not your shade.” He tutted, pointing to the tinted gloss in your hand. “Too summery for your complexion this time of year. Go for the pink one. He’ll go berserk.”

“Thanks.” You muttered, facing your vanity once more. You dabbed the product against your lips. You sighed as you inspected your make-up. Once more, he was right.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He shifted to his side, looking at you expectantly.

“Yeah, I guess.” You grumbled. You looked down, pretending to look for something in your drawer so he wouldn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks. Luke refused to leave your side the entire day— his fingers hooked around the belt hoops of your skirt in one way or another. He made a whole spectacle of it too: his big brown eyes tender, his wistful sighs, his shy grins, his playful winks.

“Good.” He clapped his hands. “Gods, the boy has had a crush on you for forever, you know. It was torture watching him pine over you. I can only take so much longing.”

You froze, staring at him through the mirror. He stared back at you.

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” He sounded shocked; he was shocked. “You’re a daughter of Aphrodite, how could you not know?! That's like our thing!”

“Well, he hasn’t been obvious, has he?” You rebutted, flicking your wrist.

“Sis, I don’t know what reality you’re living in,” He sat up on the bed, “But that boy wouldn’t know subtle even if it hit him in the face.”

“But surely it’s just because of the arrows.” You rationalized.

“Nuh uh.” He wiggles a finger in the air to deny the accusation. “The arrows you used just accentuate pre-existing feelings. Not make new ones.”

A knock interrupts your conversation. You hurry to fix your hair, brushing it out of the way. Your hands begin to shake with giddy excitement. You feel your heart thrum strongly against your chest, almost wanting to burst out from the confines of your body and find its other half in Luke. Your smile eventually becomes hard to contain.

Eros beams at you, his pupils dilating into hearts again like it did this morning. He opens the door for you and pushes you out. “Have fun with lover boy. Mother sends her regards.”

Luke spins around at the sound of the squeaky hinges. He can't help but pull a hand out of his pocket, his palm lightly grazing his chest. He whistles. “Call me favored by the gods because I think I’ve just entered Elysium.”

“You’ve been with me the whole day.” You responded pointedly, breathless and in love.

“And yet you still manage to take my breath away.” He gasps when you rush into him, wrapping your arms around his nape.

“This is new.” He looks down at you, your noses touching. His hands fall naturally to your hips, his thumbs rubbing against the fabric of your dress. “But definitely welcome.”

You gaze into his eyes before pressing your lips against his. They felt pleasant and pliant against your own. You tugged Luke closer, your fingers twirling through his curls. His hands squeezed your skin. The kiss burned sweetly, almost as if it’s been waiting in anticipation to happen.

When you both separate for air, Luke gently grabs your hands from behind him. He wraps his fists around yours, placing soft kisses on your knuckles. “I’ve been waiting so long for that.”

“So I’ve been told.” You hum. “I figured I might take the first step.”

“Don’t worry.” He presses another kiss against your lips, short and sweet. “I promise to match your pace the rest of the way.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺

taglist: @ace-spades-1 @patitotodd @fandomthings-blog @bugcuti3 @liv1104 @mindflay3r

#luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo tv series #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series

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nisuna · 4 months

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After learning that Gojo has been sealed, Nanami goes to fuck his wife🤭🫦

Hi hello~

This one's quite angsty. I hope that's alright. It just fit the mood of the request 😭 also I haven't read much with Nanami, so I hope I did him justice, please lmk!! But anyway, I hope you enjoy

Thank you for your Take ^^

<3masterlist<3

MDNI Strictly 18+ 1.9k words

TW: angst, body worship, unprotected sex, wife!reader, breeding, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), mentions of pregnancy, you have a child together at the end!

Gojo Satoru has been sealed. Now, it's only a matter of time. After hearing the news from Yuji, Nanami's first thought was of you at home alone. What if something happened to you as well? Instincts kicked in as he rushed back home. As soon as he arrived, he was a sweaty huffing mess. His hands were shaking as he grabbed the keys and twisted the door knob open. When he first entered, he was greeted by utter silence. It made his heart drop. As soon as he closed the door and took off his shoes, he went in to look for you. He eventually found you humming in the kitchen and as soon as he saw you, he pulled you into a tight embrace.

"Kento, what's gotten into you-?" you giggled as he almost crushed you with his embrace.

"Please let me make you feel good. That way you'll never forget me in case something happens."

"What do you mean if something happens?!" you tried to push at his chest to look him in the face, "Kento you're scaring me."

He let out a sigh squeezing you tighter. "Gojo-san has been sealed."

"Sealed? What does that even mean?

"The strongest has been sealed, so it's only a matter of time until they get everyone else as well."

"But that doesn't matter right now, just let me love you like it's our last."

"No! You can't just drop that and mh-" he muffled your protest with crashing his lips against yours.

You tried to resist at first but soon melted into the kiss as he ran his hands over every part of your body, finally settling for your ass and picking you up in the process. Never once did his lips leave you as he carried you to your shared bedroom.

He was gentle when he put you down, already pulling your night gown over your stomach and hooking his fingers in your panties. You were too out of breath to protest, lifting your hips to help him drag them down your legs. When he finally threw them on the floor, he brought his face closer to your core, inhaling your scent and spreading you wide with his long fingers making you gasp and cover your mouth.

"Don't." he whispered, "I want to hear all of you. Please."

You nodded and didn't hold back when he finally put his mouth on you, occasionally bumping his nose against your clit when he went to dip his tongue in your dripping heat. You've been married for a few years now and this definitely wasn't the first time he ate you out but he was just so intense tonight it felt overwhealming. Drawn out moans and huffs left your mouth as he slid two of his thick fingers in, sucking on your clit.

And with just the right curl of his fingers, he made your back arch off the bed. For a moment, he pulled away from you but still kept a steady rhythm continuing to hit your spongy spot. "This spot always gets you right?" he smiled, leaning his cheek agains your thigh and kissing it. After all these years, he still managed to give you butterflies.

"Mhm, feels good, please keep going," you mewled toes curling. With a chuckle and a quick bite to your thigh, he hoisted your legs over his broad shoulders and dove back in. Your moans grew in volume as he switched between sucking and licking at your sensitive nub. On instinct, as you felt yourself get close, your hands found their way to his blond locks and pulling on them, which made him let out a deep groan. As he continued to work you open with his fingers you mewled. "Oh please don't stop I'm close I'm gonna-" you felt him nod against you as you squeezed his face with your thighs pulling hard on his scalp while cumming all over his face. He licked you through your high as you let out high pitched moans, legs shaking from overstimulation.

As you tried to push his face away, he squeezed your thighs, prying them back open and pulling you closer. "No, not enough. Give me one more. Please, I know you can do it." You were about to whine about it being too much only to get the wind knocked out of your lungs when he plunged his fingers back inside.

"W-wait ah- 's too much I." and with a meticulous swipe of his tongue, he made your eyes roll back and mouth fall open in a silent scream.

"Good, such a good girl, my beautiful wife. You're doing so well." he kissed your thigh, going back to suck on your clit. You were a huffing, sweaty mess but the overstimulation soon turned into immense pleasure as you felt yourself tip over the edge again.

With a scream of his name, your back arched off the bed as your slick dripped down his chin. While he licked you clean, you finally pulled yourself away, breathing heavily. He had a proud smile on his face as he began kissing up your body, finally pulling your night gown over your head and settling his lips between your breasts. You hugged his head tightly as he laid his ear on your chest, listening to your heartbeat.

"That was amazing," you whispered, patting his soft hair, "Let me make you feel good too. It's my turn-" "No", he interrupted, "today's all about you. So please wait. Let me stay like this. ...just a little longer.", his voice trembled as he squeezed you tighter.

"Kento, baby. It's gonna be alright. Nothing will happen to you I'm sure-"

"You can't know for sure. Anything can happen."

"No please don't say that." you begged, lifting his head off your chest to look at him.

"It's going to be alright. You're here with me. You don't have to leave." you smiled, pulling him up for a gentle kiss. He deepened the kiss, beginning to unbutton his shirt and discarding it. Then, he went to unbuckle his pants. You smiled as you tried to go get a condom from the nightstand, only to be stopped by him.

"What are you doing?", you questioned him.

"Is it okay if we do it without?"

"But I think I'm-"

"Please, I can't promise that I won't have to leave. But I know how to leave you a reminder of me."

You let him continue as he kissed up your neck. "If something happens to me, you'll always have a piece of me."

"But I'm sure nothing will happen to you, are you sure? Are we ready-?"

"I want you to be the mother of my child." he said with a determined look on his face. You didn't have it in you to deny him so you only nodded pulling him in for a kiss as he went to stroke his cock.

"Are you ready?" he questioned, already prodding his cock at your entrance. As soon as you gave him the okay he pushed in. Both of you let out a drawn out moan. It wasn't the first time having raw sex, but today just felt overwhealmingly intimate. You started trembling, gripping onto his biceps as ypu adjusted to his size. "I'm fine please move, please."

He didn't waste time as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kis as he started to roll his hips. His usually controlled percise thrusts were sloppy and filled with desperation. Deep groans left his mouth as he got worked up. Your high-pitched mewls and drawn-out moans spurring him on even more.

"I love you so much. My beautiful wife, the love of my life."

"I love you too, so so much. More than anything. So please don't leave, don't leave me alone. I need you.", your eyes filled with tears as the gravity of the situation started to sink in.

"I never want to leave. You are my wife, and I am responsible for your safety. I'll do anything to protect you." he whispered, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder, deepening the angle he was grinding into you.

"Who's going to protect me when you're gone. I'll never forgive you if you leave me.", you sobbed as he leaned down to kiss your tears away. "Promise me you won't leave."

"You know I can't for sure."

"Pleaseee" desperately gripping at his shoulders as you moaned at a particularly hard thrust. So he finally gave in. "I promise, I will try my best." You nodded somewhat satisfied as his relentless hips kept hitting the sensitive spot inside of you.

"I want our child to grow up with both of us at their side." he nodded at your words, pecking your lips.

"I'm going to fill you up with my love, I'm going to mark you up so you'll never forget me. I'll stay with you forever. I'll come back for sure."

You felt relief come over you as his hand went between your bodies to rub thick circles into your clit. Moans and thank yous spilled from your mouth as you toppled over the edge only to be filled to the brim soon after. He kept moving throughout both of your orgasms and pulled you on top of him as he laid down on his back, still inside of you. You stayed like this, breathing in eachother's scents and exchanging gentle kisses throughout the night.

And as fate would have it, you did get pregnant. As time went on, the footsteps of a little blond rascal could be heard throughout your home. "Mama, mamaaa!" the little boy screamed excitedly, hugging your leg. You let out a giggle, picking him up. "What is it?" "I wanna go see Papa, pleaaase Mama can we go?"

"Sure, let's go see him right now," you smiled, kissing the top of his head and nuzzling your nose in his hair. "I bet he's waiting for us."

As you went to open the door, the boy shrieked excitedly. You smiled as you set him down. "You know what to do, right, sweetie?"

"Yes! I'm a big boy now!" he said, kneeling down and folding his hands. You smiled, kneeling down beside him and bowing your head.

"Papa, I missed you! I hope you're doing well. I hope you'll get better and come back soon! Mama's always soooo sad when you're out on missions." he huffed. As you listened to his excited words, you felt pride, but at the same time, you felt your heart sink. However, for the sake of the little boy next to you, you tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill and just smiled as you continued to speak after him.

"Hello, honey. I missed you, too. You'll come back right? You promised. So please hurry, wherever you are.", you spoke softly, finally looking up at the picture of your husband in front of the small shrine at your home.

----------

I'M SORRY GUYS 😭😭😭🥱

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

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suyacho · 2 months

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hello there lovely @kakushino , happy very late valentines🫶 i'm so sorry for making you wait, hopefully it's worth it </3 this is a part of the @enchantedforest-network cupid's club!!

> synopsis — running away with the one you have hidden feelings for sounds like a dream coming true. what could possibly happen when you’re both on a wave of adrenaline and end up together in one room?

secret cupid

content warnings: minors/ageless blogs dni - fem princess!reader - personal knight giyuu - arranged marriage mentions - running away - tension - cursing - hinted friends to lovers - slight possessive giyuu - dirty talk - use of nicknames (dear/dearest/pearl/royal titels) - praise kink - sweet sex - unprotected sex - restraints (on hands) - creampie - slight size & breeding kink (hinting to it) - giyuu cums fast - manhandling mention (once) - the smuts kinda fast - might be ooc - slight aftercare - 3,2k words

note: i just want to say a big thank you to everyone who helped me with this fic, i appreciate it sm <3 also i hope i did giyuu justice, it's been so long since i wrote kny!

“So… this is it huh?” you think to yourself, taking one last look around in your chambers, a bittersweet smile plastered on your face. Catching your own reflection in the big mirror, hardly recognizing yourself from how much effort he put into keeping you undercover.

“Her Royal Highness, are you ready?” A well to familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. “Yes Giyuu, you may come in.” you answered, taking a deep breath as you walked towards the door, slowly bidding goodbye to your life before it changed forever.

“You know we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready Ma’am.” he reminded you and you just shook your head, discarding all your thoughts. Yet still smiling at the way he was worried for you and ready to put a stop to his plans that took him months to prepare, just for you.

“It’s now or never Giyuu.” you remind him and he just simply nods. “Alright then.” Giyuu speaks softly, glancing around the hall before guiding you into a pathway you never even went into, regardless of living in this castle all your life. It was visible that Giyuu has his guards up high while guiding you towards a secret exit, failure was not an option in this situation.

It was for the better, you knew that yet the hesitation lingers in the back of your mind. You have one chance to get away and you weren’t about to let it go. Not when you both worked for an opportunity for so long.

Two more days and the chance would’ve been gone forever considering your wedding was planned that day, or better said; a marriage of convenience, nothing more, nothing less. There were no feelings involved from both sides, still neither of you could talk back to your parents and if you did, they probably didn’t listen.

The news broke you in a way, yet it didn’t surprise you, especially when you knew how things went around here. That’s exactly why this one time, you picked yourself before anything else.

For once you wanted to decide your own fate, even if it meant giving up your royal title, you were prepared to give it all up and to follow your feelings, especially your feelings for someone your parents would never approve of, or so you think.

“Her Royal Highness?” Once again, Giyuu snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Huh?" Sorry–” you apologized for being completely out of it, laughing shyly as you looked at him. Your eyes locking with one another, making your heart skip a beat.

“We’re about to leave the castle, I promise to protect you no matter what.” Giyuu announced, making you realize how long you were lost in your thoughts. “Thank you.” you smiled, feeling at ease knowing that Giyuu’s promises were always absolute. Little did you know it was only when it came to you that he’d never break a promise, even if it costs his own life.

Carefully you followed Giyuu, making your way out of the castle, into the inner city. There was a peaceful silence, one you both enjoyed as you successfully ran away so far.

“Quick, come here.” Giyuu warned you, pulling you close to him, a surprised gasp leaving your lips at the sudden movement. Looking at Giyuu who was covering your mouth as you two hid in a narrow alley. Bodies pressed against one another, eyes looking into one another while your heart nearly beats in your throat from the sudden tension.

“Your Majesty, I think they went this way!” the main guard yelled, followed by the sound of a group of people running towards the direction the sound came from.

How did they figure it out so fast already?

“Hey.” Giyuu whispered, gently grabbing your face and making you face him. “It’ll be okay.”

You nodded carefully, too nervous to make a sound, both from the closeness and the situation you were in. On top of that, you could’ve sworn that you noticed his ears turning red. The Giyuu who showed little to no emotion and was calm most of the time, possibly blushing? Was there any chance he felt the same? That he also liked you the way you liked him? “They’re gone.” Giyuu mumbled, looking everywhere but in your eyes. “Alright…” you nodded, confused on why he was suddenly acting this way and carefully walking out of the alley.

“Fuck.” Giyuu whispered under his breath, glancing down at his pants, not believing himself as he quickly fixed his clothes and posture, hoping you didn’t notice anything.

“Are you okay, Your Royal Highness? I apologize for my sudden actions.” Giyuu quickly apologized once he walked up to you and you shrugged it off. “I know you did it to protect me, it’s okay.” you reassured him, a peaceful silence falling shortly after.

“Oh also, please drop the formalities.” you told him, looking up at the starry sky, reminiscing over older days. “We’re friends after all.”

Although you both secretly wished it was more than just friends.

“Right…” Giyuu acknowledged. “We should probably look for a place to stay the night.” he suggested.

“I’m sorry it’s nothing like the castle.” Giyuu apologized, hiding his excitement at the fact of being alone with you. “It’s okay Giyuu, rest assured.” you smiled sweetly, letting yourself fall on the bed without a single worry, relaxing for the first time tonight.

“I hope he doesn’t take it personally.” you laughed softly, taking off the disguise. Not noticing Giyuu’s eyes being glued on you until you turned around, a big smile plastered on your face.

“You’re so beautiful.” Giyuu blurted out, accidentally thinking aloud, taking you off guard with his words.

“Thank you..?” you acknowledged, confused at the sudden compliment but not minding it at all.

Giyuu didn’t know what had him acting so out of character but he couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the pent up stress from planning all of this, or the tension from earlier that still had him hot and bothered, or the feelings he hid from you for years, finally being ready to burst.

“Your Royal Highness…” Giyuu started, moving closer to you, the earlier tensions being back, yet much stronger this time.

“Drop the title Tomioka.” you taunted him, trying to hide your nervousness with playfulness.

“Are you okay with this?” he asked, gently cupping your face, trying to hide his hesitation. Giyuu wasn’t hesitant about what he was doing, he was doubting if he deserved you, if he had the right to touch you like this, to want you like this.

Giyuu might’ve been your friend, still that never changed the difference in your statuses. How could a knight like him be with the one who’s next in line? Did he even deserve that?

“More than okay, I promise.” you reassured him, melting into his touch as you moved closer to him. Giyuu had a relieved smile on his face, gently rubbing his thumb over your cheek, his heart nearly beating in his throat from the nerves.

Slowly, you closed your eyes, feeling his breath ghost over your lips before he closed the gap. Your lips gliding over one another smoothly while he pulled you as close as possible, tracing his tongue over your lips, deepening it once you let out a needy whine.

Giyuu stared at you with half lidded eyes, filled with desire, wanting to have you all to himself. You brought out a side of him he didn’t know he had, a possessive side that came alive with the kiss.

“Fuck…” you breathed out, forehead resting against his as you caught your breathe, hot & bothered from desperate and lustfull kiss, yearning for Giyuu even more than before.

“Please, could I continue?” Giyuu questioned, still speaking formally even though his cock was hard and strained in his pants, just because of a simple kiss with you, the love of his life.

“Only if you drop the formalities.”

Giyuu didn’t say anything else, he just pushed you against the bed, hovering over you as your back hit the mattress. An embarrassing moan left your lips at the rougher side of Giyuu, making you wonder what else he could do.

“You’re so gorgeous.” Giyuu mumbles under his breath before pulling you in for another kiss. This one being messier and filled with lust as he rushed to undress you, not knowing how much longer he could hold back.

To say you were nervous was an understatement, you were both feeling that way and slightly hesitant, not because you didn’t want him, what if he wasn’t pleased with what he saw?

“Hey.” Giyuu spoke softly, having pulled back because he noticed your attention being elsewhere. “Tell me if anything is too much, alright dear?”

Giyuu sweetly pecked your lips and then moved down your body, leaving sweet kisses as he continued. Not even giving you time to process the nickname as his fingers trailed along your bra clasps.

“Is this okay?” he questioned, wanting to make sure you were okay with it once more and you nodded quickly, looking everywhere but in his eyes. It wasn’t like Giyuu to be this vocal or speak too much, still he wanted to put your comfort before his own.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Giyuu taunted, unclasping your bra as he took it off, sweetly pressing kisses against your skin, whispering sweet compliments as he went on, making you feel so loved and wanted from just the slightest touch.

Giyuu made sure to pay attention to everything, his sweet kisses on your chest slowly moving down your stomach as he looked up at you, stopping at your undergarments. A cheeky grin plastered on his face as he kissed you through the fabric, groaning once he felt how wet you were.

“I’m glad the feeling’s mutual.” Giyuu smiled, liking a stripe along the fabric before taking it off, cock twitching at the sight before him. Noticing how you hesitantly attempted to close your legs, only to be stopped by his strong grip.

Once again you avoided his eyes, your arms nervously covering your chest. Embarrassed of feeling this way, regardless of the fact that Giyuu has shown you gentleness through and through, hating the fact you were this insecure, even if it was the man you loved.

Giyuu’s big hand only caressed your body with gentle touches, rubbing it sweetly to calm your mind, not wanting to push you too much.

“Are you okay, Your Majesty?” His tone lingered with worry and care, looking at your face. “I’m okay, it’s j-just—“ you stuttered on your words, suddenly feeling stupid for feeling this way.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to push yourself.” Giyuu spoke sweetly, taking his hand off you and pulling back the slightest bit.

“I want this Giyuu.” you tell him, swallowing a deep breath as you looked at him, being met with a warm smile, still yearning for his touch. “You sure?”

“I promise.” you reassured him, grabbing onto him and pulling him closer to you with shaky hands, not being able to get rid of the feeling fully. “Well then, relax for me my dear.”

You relaxed under Giyuu, the tenseness leaving your body as you wrapped your arms around him, your needy side taking over the insecureness.

“Please, just do something.” you whined, only for him to slide his finger along your folds, teasing you through the fabric before discarding it somewhere on the floor. “Good girl, just let me do the work alright?”

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Giyuu mumbled under his breath, pressing a kiss against your forehead as he slid in a finger, working his way open to get you prepared for him.

“So pretty and wet for me, how cute of you.” Giyuu taunted, only to be met with a needy moan from you. His eyes glued on the way you took his fingers, cock leaking and begging for some touch.

“‘m ready, please.” you mewled, already feeling close. Either from the way his skilled fingers played with you or because he was the one touching you. “You’re going to be the death of me dearest.” Giyuu groaned, sliding his fingers out and cursing under his breath at the way you clenched around nothing.

Giyuu locked his eyes with you, bringing his fingers to his mouth and licking them clean, his eyes glued on you the whole time.

“So sweet just for me.” Giyuu hummed, stroking his cock before lining it up with your entrance, glancing at you once more to make sure you were okay.

Slowly Giyuu pushed in, inch by inch, making you feel all of him. A gasp leaving both of your lips once he was swallowed by your warmth. Giving you a few seconds to adjust before starting to move, thrusting with a few experimenting thrusts, seeing what felt best for you.

“Y-You’re so big.” you gasped, feeling so full and overwhelmed by pleasure. “Yeah? Are you gonna take it like a good girl, dearest?” Giyuu taunted, looking at you with loving yet lustful eyes.

All you could do was nod desperately, wrapping your arms around his broad back. “Giyuu, faster.” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed from how needy you were for him.

Giyuu didn’t need to hear more before he picked up his pace, setting a erratic pace as he continued fucking into you, still not believing this was actually happening. It was taking him everything to not fuck you hard like an animal in heat, he had thought of this so many times, so finally having it made it hard for him to hold back.

He also didn’t know how much longer he could keep it in or keep on his tough guy act, especially when he felt his self control slipping away and already wanted to cum, to fill you up and make you his.

“F-Fuck dear, you’re going to kill me.” Giyuu groaned, his voice cracking mid sentence as he continued thrusting into you.

The view before you had you clenching down on him hard, Giyuu looked so good above you and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Giyuu…” you mumbled hesitantly, the way he was fucking you making you feel good yet leaving you yearning for more as you allowed yourself to get lost in the lust. “Yes dearest?”

His voice was sweet as his thrusts never stopped, making sure you feel all of him with every single one, watching you fall apart on his cock.

“Y-You can be rougher, please.” you pleaded, eyes locking with his as you slightly dug your nails into his back, pulling him as close as possible.

Only to be met with Giyuu groaning before he hid his face into your neck, his cock twitching inside of you at your words. “Please dear?”

“F-Fuck.” Giyuu mumbled, holding you tightly as his hips stuttered, painting your walls white while heavy breathing into your neck.

“ ‘m sorry.” Giyuu mumbled against your skin, his thrusts becoming sloppier while he placed kisses on your neck, riding his high out.

He was beyond embarrassed, still he couldn’t help himself, not when you asked him so sweetly, not when you called him that name. It was taking him everything to not fuck you hard, to manhandle you, to make you scream out his name but it all slipped away in a matter of seconds.

“It’s okay Giyuu.” you reassured him, hand gripping his hair as you moved against him, the wet and sloppy sounds filling the room together with the sound of his heavy breathing and the bed creaking.

“You can make it up by fucking me like you always wanted to.” you whispered in his ear, giggling a bit when you noticed the goosebumps.

You were merely testing the waters, not expecting him to get hard this fast again, a whine leaving your lips at the feeling. The fact that he wanted you as much as you wanted him made you happy.

Before you could register what was happening, your hands were held above your head by Giyuu, who finally was facing you again, holding his tie in his other hand.

“May I?” Giyuu asked, looking down at you with dark eyes, his tone lingered with lust while he still was soothed inside of you, wanting your confirmation before he proceeded with your proposal.

“Of course, I’m yours.” you smiled, the thought of being restrained only turning you on even more, watching how his skilled hands tied yours up.

“All mine.” Giyuu smirked, those words stirring something inside of his mind as he slipped out teasingly slow. Slapping his tip against your entrance, watching his cum drip out.

“Please Giyuu.” you whined, clenching around nothing as you felt empty. “Good girl.” was all Giyuu said before he pushed it all in with one quick trust, making you cry out his name in shock, the tears pricking in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“You look so pretty for me like this.”

Quickly after, Giyuu pulled you in a messy kiss, one telling each other your yearning for each other without using words and promising you were nowhere close to being done tonight.

“You did so well for me.” Giyuu praised you, untying your hands and placing gentle kisses where you could see the marks it left. “My pretty pearl.”

He pressed a sweet kiss against your forehead, wrapping his arms around you again once more, holding you closely as you snuggled up to him, a smile creeping up his face.

“ ‘m tired.” you yawned, resting against his chest as he reached out for something, not being able to see what it was.

“I know dear, sorry if I’ve been too harsh on you.” Giyuu laughed nervously and you shook your head, looking up at him. “I enjoyed it.”

A big smile crept on Giyuu’s face as he sweetly pecked your lips. “You wanna go shower?” Giyuu questioned and you shook your head once more, telling him everything he needed to know.

“Mhm that’s okay— at least drink some.” Giyuu told you, handing you a bottle of water as he got up to grab a towel.

“Giyuu?” you started after you finished drinking.

“Yes dear?” he answered sweetly, plopping down next to you on the bed and starting to wipe you clean, sneaking in some kisses here and there.

“Thank you.”

Those two words held a bigger weight to them than usual. You were thanking him for setting you free, for showing you a world unknown to you, for being so patient and gentle with you and most importantly, for returning the long term feelings.

“It’s my pleasure.” Giyuu smiled, pecking your lips before putting one of his bigger shirts on you and taking you in his arms, laying down on the mattress with you.

Once again, you snuggled closely to him, resting on his chest. Smiling once you could feel his heart beating, beating this fast just because of you, that was the effect you had on him.

You were sure there were going to be plenty of challenges along the road, but somewhere deep down you knew it would be okay as long as you had Giyuu by your side.

“Goodnight pretty.” Giyuu whispered, gently caressing your back.

This certainly was a feeling you could get used to.

#giyuu x reader #giyuu fluff #giyuu smut #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu tomioka smut #giyuu tomioka fluff #tomioka giyuu smut #tomioka giyuu x reader #tomioka giyuu fluff #giyuu x reader smut #giyuu x reader fluff #snow writes; smut #secret cupid

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stanfanfiction · 9 months

Text

Taste of You - Ken x fem!reader - PART FOUR.FIVE

Heeyyy babes!! Your constant support and outpouring of love it SOO amazing, I truly never expected anyone to even read my writing and having so many of you tell me how much you like it is beyond anything I could have hoped for.

I hope you enjoy the latest .5 chapter, which, as has become custom, is simply the fun sm*t stuff that we all enjoy. Today’s entry had some sub!/dom! Roles, on both sides ;) so I’m eager to see how everyone likes it, what they like more, etc!! Also thanks to @aloheem for suggesting trying out a tickling idea to see how Ken reacts to it.

AND thank you for sending in your requests!! I love reading what you enjoy consuming fan-fic wise and I hope I can bring your ideas to justice <3

Alright, without further ado, warnings and then let’s goooo.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY / sub!Ken/dom!reader / dom!Ken/sub!reader / mild non-con (never fully non because the sub! Is enjoying themselves and makes that clear) / light choking / spanking / bondage / overstimulation / new sensations / tickling / praise k!nk / oral fem! & male! receiving / ball touching / edging

Ken lay underneath you, helpless as you straddled his hips but bent down, eyes staring into his the entire time. He gasped and his entire body clenched as you bit down into the area where his hip bone and groin meet and sucked hard. The headboard rattled loudly as he attempted to jerk his hands toward to free them, but they remained tightly bound above his head much to his frustration. His eyes, never leaving yours, pleaded as loudly as they could, as you had forbidden him from speaking for the time being, begging, BEGGING you to let him do *something,* anything other than lay there and suffer this insanely incredible torture that he still wasn’t quite sure how to take.

“Mmmmm, yes baby.”

Ken’s voice cut through the experience just enough for you to open your eyes, blinking, your body hot and horny and your head trying to navigate the fact that you had just been dreaming.

“You’re finally awake.” Ken was spooning you, arms and legs tangled with yours, his forehead pressed into the back of your skull. He leaned forward so his lips were perfectly caressing your ear, sending a slight tickle down you when he spoke. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up for ages.”

Your eyes adjusted and you saw the clock. 4 a.m.

“Why would I be awake at 4, Ken?” But you already knew why. It had become almost routine at this point for Ken to somehow wake you during the night for your sexual escapades that hadn’t even begun to slow in their frequency.

“You were moaning in your sleep,” he snuggled closer to you. “I was hoping you’d wake so we could do whatever you were dreaming about in real life.” His lips captured your ear lobe and bit down just enough for another little spark to shoot down to your core. You giggled and tried to pull away but he held you close and started attacking your neck, which made you giggle more.

“Keeennn! Please,” you laughed, struggling.

“Mmmmm not until you tell me about your dream so I know what I need to do to you,” he chuckled.

You paused, thinking. Ken had become incredibly confident sexually in a very short period of time, but you wondered if having him submit to you would be something he would enjoy. You knew YOU would love it but you also worried perhaps he might take it the wrong way, or feel scared or…

“I’m waiting,” Ken reminded, breathing in your scent as he nuzzled into your neck again.

Well. You *were* incredibly horny right now, and honestly pissed off that Ken had woken you before your dream had reached completion. You decided you would try, and take it slow, and let him lead everything based on his comfort level.

You managed to turn yourself to face him, and he smiled so beautifully at you.

“Ken…I think I want to try something new tonight.”

His eyes lit up. Fair enough, he did always love learning new things whenever you would teach him.

“I need you to let go of me so I can show you.”

One of the only ways lately you *could* get Ken to let you out of his embraces was to bribe him with anything even mildly related to sex, and this was no different. He relaxed so you could move as you pleased, and you sat up and turned on the bedside light.

You looked serious and were working through how to start, since you hadn’t ever tried to be dominant in bed other than what you had done with Ken, and you wanted to work out how to make this hot for him without scaring him.

You reached your hand out and he took it, and you pulled him to the front of the bed until the two of you were both standing. You had on your tiny silk nightie that he loved to pull off of you, and of course he stood completely nude, tall and muscular and…ugh, those eyes, all smiling down at you so lovingly and just waiting.. oh fuck, okay fuck, focus.

“Ken,” you said quietly, your hand reaching out to rest on his lower abs. He took your free hand in his and kissed it, patiently waiting for you to explain.

“What I want to try tonight isn’t something we have really done before.”

He leaned his forehead into yours and hummed. “Okay?” He encouraged you to continue.

“Uhm…uh, what is a word you could automatically say, no matter what state your mind was in, to make someone stop what they were doing?”

He looked confused. “I would just say ‘Stop.’”

You stared at him, so innocent in his new confusion, and you smiled. I mean, you would definitely stop anything ever if he told you to. You raised up on tip toes to kiss him.

“Then ‘Stop’ it is.” You stepped back, watching him closely to gauge all of his reactions as you reached down and pulled your nightie off, now standing naked in front of him.

His eyes shone and he immediately reached forward to grab you, but you caught his wrists. He cocked his head.

“I…don’t understand -“

“Tonight,” you said, walking towards him with his wrists still in your grip, “you can *only* do as I say, when I say so.”

He frowned. “If you tell me to just go back to sleep, I’m not going to do it.”

You laughed. “No, so, there’s this type of, well, sexual play, where one partner kind of controls the other. Like if I tell you to do something you have to do it. Oh! But, ONLY if you actually want to. Which is why saying ‘stop’ is how I would know not to make you do it.”

“But why would you ask me to do something I wouldn’t want to do?” He ignored you holding his wrists and instead used it to his advantage, wrapping his arms around your waist and thus imprisoning your arms behind your back. “I can’t think of anything you would ask me to do to pleasure you that would make me say no.”

“What if what I asked didn’t *seem* like it would pleasure me, but it actually would?”

He remained silent, working to make this make sense to him.

“Like the first time you spanked me, you asked first, because you were worried it might hurt me? Kind of like that.”

His face softened. “Ohhh, okay. So you ask me to try things to you to see if they feel good?”

“Kinda?” You felt like this wasn’t going to work, but then the image of him struggling under your touch from the dream came back, and it snapped your mind back into place. Your voice became firm. “Ken, let go of me. Now.”

Surprised, he loosened his grip, not completely but enough to where you were able to pull free. “Keep your hands at your sides.”

He still wasn’t playing along 100%, and you knew a lot of it was that it still wasn’t making sense to him. You decided you’d just have to show him.

“From this point forward, if you tell me to stop, I will. But anything else you say or do, I will keep going.” You grazed your nails from his groin up to his hip bone, and he shuddered, immediately grabbing your waist.

“No, Ken.” Your voice startled him. “Hands at your sides.”

He looked helpless. “No, I …I don’t understand.”

“I want to pleasure you slowly without you doing anything to me for just a little while.” You made your voice sound all dreamy as your fingers danced across his lower abs, and he watched you, his breath becoming a little more shallow. “Part of the pleasure I am seeking is getting to fully immerse myself in *your* pleasure, and yours only, at least for a little while. Do you understand?”

Ken seemed to be in overthink mode, trying to figure out how to get a grip on what was happening. “Stop.”

You did immediately, taking your hand back from him, watching him closely. He looked almost….angry? No, not quite that, but -

“Give me ten minutes,” you interrupted his thought process. “If you still don’t like it by then, I will stop and not try again.”

Ken struggled with accepting this, like it made so little sense that he couldn’t see how accepting your terms would actually make you happy. You reached out and slowly wrapped a hand around his cock, which had been hard and straining ever since he first got off the bed.

“Do you want to make me happy, Ken?” You kind of hated how manipulative the words sounded, despite them only being for play, but still wanted to make sure he would enjoy playing along once he figured it out.

Your question seemed to throw him off guard. His blue eyes melted into yours, his body relaxing a little, less defensive now. He gulped. “I do.”

Your grip tightening on his cock now and he groaned, reaching for your wrist again but stopping himself this time, glancing at you. You smiled, small but sexy, and that seemed to do something to him. He pulled his hand back to his side and your other hand came up to caress his cheek.

“Good boy,” you purred. You LOVED the way his posture always changed a little when you praised him, his chest puffing out a tiny bit and his face looking just a bit proud. “You remembered to keep your hands to yourself. Now let me touch you for awhile.”

He nodded, watching you like a tiger watches its prey, as you started rubbing his cock while your other hand traced lazily up his abs with your nails, his shudders indicating how sensitive he was already just by being denied control. He giggled a little when your nails grazed over a certain area, and you tried to hold back a smile at how cute his reaction was. Instead, you looked up at him and touched the area again.

“It tickles.”

“Mmmhmm, it does, sweet Ken. Can you handle it? Can you deal with it for a little longer?” Ken’s fists clenched and unclenched in time with the way you were pumping him as you kept your nails on his abs. He was desperate to touch you, to force you down and fuck you until you were exhausted. His skin broke out in goosebumps when you took his nipple in your mouth and he moaned loudly. You took your hand off of his cock and he groaned irritably before all of your nails were dancing up and down his abs and groin, and he shuddered and unintentionally leaned into you a little. He was gasping, ohhh fuck, he had probably never experienced anything even close to overstimulation other than the first time he was having sex with you. And he was so fucking stunning trying to take it to make you happy. You bit his nippled and he cried out, his hands now balled into tight fists.

You stepped back. “Fuucckkk, what a perfect boy you are. You’re doing so well for me.”

His cock twitched and he let out a small whimper. He definitely was struggling with this, but as it seemed he wasn’t actually in pain or telling you to stop, you decided to keep playing to see where it went.

“You can lay down now, Ken.”

He stared at you, his head hung a little, his neck and shoulders tight. Fists clenched, cock throbbing. Panting, eyes boring into yours. Oh my god, you stared at him to make sure this image forever stayed in your mind.

“Now, Ken.”

He slowly obeyed, pulling himself backwards onto the bed and sitting at the top against the pillows.

All you could think of was how beautiful he was going to look tied up for you.

You pulled a pair of pantyhose out of your drawer and climbed onto the bed to him. The new item in your hands made him curious, but he was still focused on only one thing.

“Can I touch you now?”

“Not yet. But you’re so patient.”

“When can I?” How the fuck did his voice sound so broken over…

“Ken,” your voice was calmer, now talking to him in your normal tone. “I want to tie you up and fuck you.”

His eyes widened a bit, realizing the pantyhose you had been twisting into a long, thin, but sturdy rope, was meant for…

He glanced up at you, and an eyebrow cocked. You wanted to slap him for making you feel out of control, again..not when you were supposed to be the one who -

“How long do you need me tied up for?”

“Until I’m finished with you.”

Ken smirked, and to your surprised offered his wrists willingly. “Then tie me up and fuck me, y/n.” He grinned, knowing he took you off guard, literally challenging you.

OH, now he was in for it.

You bound his wrists quickly, securing them to the headboard. He smiled at you the entire time, suddenly entertained by your whole new desire for play, but the smile left his face quickly as you took him into your mouth, lowering down onto him. His hips bucked at the sudden shock that went through him, and his moan of pleasure turned into one of frustration when you immediately pulled off of him. He looked down at you.

“You aren’t allowed to move while I suck on you, Ken.”

He looked incredulously at you. “How am I supposed to -“

He was cut off when you gently squeezed his balls, knowing his one particularly sensitive spot, and he gasped loudly, hips bucking again. You usually didn’t touch him here that often, as it seemed to drive him mad with passion and, well, horniness, and usually you didn’t get the chance to see how much he could take because he would tackle you and fuck you until you were exhausted.

But now, this time was different. You massaged that area again, and his head pushed back into the pillows, wrists straining against his bonds.

“Jesus FUCK.” He panted. You hadn’t ever heard him raise his voice that loudly. You felt yourself becoming wet, and you continued your gentle but consistent assault on his balls, watching him in silence as he gasped and moaned and shuddered, waiting for him to surrender to you.

He actually held out way longer than you had expected, and you felt so impossibly hot watching as he slowly went from an alpha-state to one of literal physical submission, his body no longer trying to violently break itself free from the headboard except for some exhausted tugs, his voice almost hoarse, his body completely covered in a cold sweat.

“Please, please, pleassee….” He begged, voice breaking a little. “Please, y/n, I can’t. I can’t - ahhhh, FUCK, please.”

You stopped your torture, and a huge exhale rattled through his body, attempting to soothe itself. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

“Hi, sweet boy.”

He looked up at you, completely at your will, still panting, and his sweaty hair and mildly wet eyes made you feel so deeply for him. You leaned forward, placing your hands besides his head.

“You’re so good to me, Ken,” you whispered, and he leaned up to kiss you then caught himself, lowering his head back down onto the pillows. Fuck, he was trying SO hard to please you.

“Am I doing good, y/n?” He whimpered.

“You’re doing so good, Ken. You know why I had to exhaust you, right?”

“Because I wouldn’t stop moving,” he choked, gasping for another breath.

“Good, Ken. You learn so quickly.” You glanced at the clock and saw he had held out almost the full ten minutes now, but you wanted to make sure he was okay before delving in any further.

“Ken? Is it alright if I keep going?”

His entire body went rigid, his biceps clenching tightly, as if ready to jerk himself free of his restraints if necessary - or if he actually could this time. He never took his eyes off of you, contemplating his answer. You leaned down to his ear to whisper, and you felt the shiver that ran through him.

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you touch me for a moment.”

He nodded then. “Yes, please, anything, I’ll do anything -“

You captured his lips in yours and he moaned into you, almost as if he was thanking you and his lips pulled yours roughly into his mouth, his tongue darting into yours to clash with your tongue for a brief moment before you pulled back. He looked devastated.

You reached for the restraints and his eyes brightened.

“Only one for now,” you said, untying his left hand and making sure that his right remained firmly connected to the bed. “Because if you need me to stop, I might not be able to hear you. If you need me to stop at anytime, I want you to slap my leg, really hard, so I know. Okay?”

He held onto your every word, nodded when you were finished, trying to figure out what it was you were going to do. He began moving his hand to your waist then caught himself and paused, waiting for instructions.

“Mmm, I have the best Ken,” you cooed, and he smiled a little. You allowed him to rest his hand on your waist as you straddled his face, slowly lowering yourself down onto him.

You had barely come into contact with his nose when you felt his free arm tighten around your thigh, pulling you closer into him, and you cried out, grabbing the headboard for support as his lips roughly sucked on your clit, pulling hard. He moaned hungrily into you, and you forced yourself to make sure you didn’t fully collapse onto his face, his tongue and lips so eager and rough, and his moaning into your opening was the most vulnerable yet hot you could remember feeling in your life.

You began moving your hips a little, trying to maintain your attempt at dominance, but fuck if it wasn’t almost impossible while working against Ken’s strength and enthusiasm. He wrapped his arm around your thigh tighter and almost forced you still as his tongue penetrated into you, licking and flicking and then his lips sucking around your opening in a dizzying sequence.

“Ken…I…ah, fuck, okay, I need -“ You yelped as his arm freed itself of you momentarily only to spank your cheek sharply, the pain shocking you but not having time to react because he immediately forced you back down onto his face and held you until you came, your knuckles white from holding onto the headboard and you cried out over and over as an intense orgasm washed over you. Ken didn’t stop until your body began becoming limp, from which he then removed his arm and you un-straddled him, sitting next to him on the bed.

He lay there, one arm bound above his head, his hair a mess, his face flushed and covered in your juices, and he was grinning at you.

"I like you making me submit to you. That was fun." His free hand reached for you. "Now untie me so I can fuck your dripping pussy. I am losing my mind."

You forced yourself to maintain control as you quickly grabbed his hand and began tying it back up.

"Hey, hey!" he protested, but you were quicker and he was bound again within moments. You moved back to look at him, confused, and *now* he looked a little angry, but you knew it wasn't from actual anger, more just not getting his way, which is something he didn't enjoy. *Especially * when he was this horny.

He grit his teeth and jerked hard on the restraints. "Let me out of these."

You cocked your head. "Mmmm, no."

"When, then?"

"When you've orgasmed."

He growled. "That's what I am actively *trying* to do!!"

You sunk down onto him then, no warning or buildup, and he cried out in ecstasy, his entire being melting as if relieved.

"Ohhh, fuck, y/n, my love…thank you, thank you, thank -"

You reached up and placed a hand around the base of his throat, just barely, not even applying pressure. He looked up at you, and despite not experiencing this before, the look he gave you made you all the more hot, and you wrapped your fingers around his neck, squeezing ever so slightly. He moaned loudly, and his eyes had that gorgeous teary look that you had seen the first time you had fucked him - his own special mix of love and pleasure and experiencing something amazing for the first time. He thrust up into you then, and the sharpness of it told you he was already way too close to climaxing.

You pulled your hips off of his, sitting on his waist but keeping your hand around his throat. The noise he made when you left his cock was like a mangled cry, and his eyes went into dominance mode, that look he gave you when he was warning you things were about to go his way.

"But you're not the one in control this time, Ken." Your hair brushed his face and you squeezed his throat a little harder. "I am. And you don't get to cum until I say so."

You swore you saw stars in his eyes when you sunk back down onto him then, fucking him the way you knew he loved, and you removed your hand from his throat to press down onto his hips like he always did to you. That did something extra for him and he groaned, jerking against the restrains again, and the image of him slowly coming undone because of you made you so tempted to just untie him and finish you off the way he wanted - the way you knew you both wanted - but you had come too far to quit now, and once again when you knew his orgasm was close, when his abs began their gorgeous tightening and his hips bucked up into yours, you let him slip out of you again, and he literally sobbed.

"You're not doing a very good job at not moving, Ken."

You tried to keep your head together as he glared down at you, and you knew *exactly* the thoughts that were swimming through his mind: jerk himself free of the headboard, force you down onto the bed, his fingers bruising themselves into you as he fucked you like he was in heat as you held on for dear life.

You had one more trick up your sleeve, and decided you had best do it now because you weren't sure if you would ever be successful at getting Ken tied up again after tonight. You got your only other pair of pantyhose and ripped them in two.

Ken's eyes grew huge and you expected him to fight back, but to your surprise he didn't. He lay, watching you while you pulled his legs open, tying each one to an opposite best post, until he was splayed out in front of you, unable to thrust up even if he tried.

He remained silent as you climbed back onto the bed and leaned down, gently taking one of his balls into your mouth while massaging the other. His head fell back and his moans were beautiful, as you decided you wanted to be gentle the rest of the night but still wanted to see how far you could push his stamina.

After he began squirming from a little too much sensation, you moved back up to his cock, your lips wetly sucking and licking around his tip, and you loved watching how much he was trying to move his hips. He seemed to be working really hard to play along now, though, because the gritted teeth and glaring eyes had morphed into your name almost being sung as you touched him, sucked, licked, loved on him, before kissing and biting your way back up his abs and chest to his face.

You looked down at him now and he at you, those baby blues lost in you, telling you he was yours to do with as you pleased. "I surrender," he whispered, and you gasped. How was this so…incredibly…

"I love you," he said.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him then, and he allowed you to lead to how deep and invasive the kiss became before leaning down to mark his neck with your lips. He moaned contentedly every time you did that, and this time was no different.

You were going to make him feel *sooo* good.

You lowered yourself back down onto his cock slowly, clenching yourself around him as hard as you could until he was fully inside you, and his head rested on one of his arms still bound beside his head.

"You're doing such a good job, Ken."

"Mm…I…good..Ken…" His moans were accompanied by an attempt at words every few breaths as he became less coherent.

You fucked him gently and he was so sensitive that his body began to tremble a couple of time. Each time you would stop fucking him until he calmed down and then you would begin again, his voice becoming more of a whimper the longer you edged him on, and at last when it seemed every ounce of energy had been drained from him, you gave him what he deserved.

He lay limp, shuddering, moaning incoherently, muscles still spasming of their own accord as much as they could muster after becoming exhausted.

"You've done so, so incredibly well, Ken." The shock of you allowing him his release was like a lightning bolt shot through him and he sobbed your name endlessly, head thrown back, eyes clenched as his body convulsed underneath you.

You watched him closely as he began to calm down, tears stinging his eyes, his body still shaking a little. You got up and tore off his restrains one by one, untying his hands last, and his tired muscles fell by his sides as he lay underneath you, panting.

You were scared now. Was this how he felt when he had spanked you for the first time? Like, that he could have actually gone too far? Had YOU gone too far?

"Ken?" you didn't meant for your voice to come out in a whisper. "Are you okay?"

He looked at you, rolling his head on the pillow to do so, as he seemed too tired to even raise it at the moment. "Kiss me," he demanded, soft and delicate, but you knew it was a command.

You kissed him deeply and he did the same, and his eyes locked on yours when you pulled back. "I love you so much, y/n."

You spent the next hour taking care of him. You sat upright against the headboard and he relaxed into your body, his being nestled against your chest and in-between your legs, humming sleepily as you massages his hands and wrists, peppered him with kisses, told him how much you loved him and cuddled his face. At one point he took your legs and folded your ankles across his waist, his forehead leaning into your neck.

"Just like being close to you," he murmered.

After having come down for awhile, he began to shiver a little and you coaxed him into the shower where you gentle bathed him off, the heat making him comfortable again, as your fingers danced across his body with soap suds, and he held you under the running water close to him, one arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding the side of your face as he languished himself in your kisses.

You both ended up back in bed just as the sun was beginning to rise, and you thanked the gods that you didn't have class today as Ken pulled you into him like always, but unlike usual, he fell asleep almost instantly, and you got to experience him sleeping around you, hearing his little moans and breathing, feeling his body limp and relaxed all around you. You hugged the arm that held you to him and nuzzled into the pillows, drifting off.

"Hey."

Ken's voice broke through your sleep, and you blinked your eyes open. The room was bright with the day's sunlight, and you had a moment of struggle to come to, you had been so deeply asleep.

The moment your eyes adjusted, you looked up and saw Ken beside you, kneeling, his cock looking painfully hard and a smirk on his face. You attempted to move but realized your wrists were bound above your head tightly, and you saw Ken's fist clenched around a leather belt in his right hand. You sucked in air sharply, already overwhelmed when you hadn't even been fully awake a whole minute ago.

Ken leaned over you now, your mind racing as he stared down at you, kissing you lovingly before nipping at your lower lip and running the belt gently up your thigh.

"Now," his words made you already want to tremble, "it's my turn."

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(Pst. I plan to complete the second part to this as a "bonus" part, but wanted Ken's first sub! experience to be its own chapter. If you want Ken's dom! time, too, I'll be posting it soon, because I have SOOO many ideas and I cannot *not* write it. I promise <3)

Tags: @microwgreen @skeletonea @sunpuffsstuff @maxcsworld @michaelslover @m21-k @uncle-eggy @heyareyoulistening @cliffbar-booth @exo-wayv

#ryan gosling #barbie movie #ken #ken smut #ken x reader smut #fanfiction #ken barbie #ken doll #ken x reader #ryan gosling fanfic #fem reader smut #smut #ryan gosling smut #smut fanfiction #ken fanfic #beach ken #ken ryan gosling #ryan gosling x reader

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writingforstraykids · 2 months

Note

Nat, could you write sub Changbin with dom chan? And Changbin is too shy to ask so Felix does? For the 💌 event

This was supposed to be a drabble...You could say I got carried away. That's what happens when you add some angst into it, I hope I did your request justice love🥹🖤

You're so cute

Pairing: Binchan

Word Count: 5823

Warnings/Tags: smut, shy!sub!changbin, caring!dom!chan, oral, dry humping, face sitting, changbin is insecure about his weight, emotional hurt!comfort, semi-public sex

A/N: Thanks to @galaxycatdrawz for sharing some thoughts (I hope I didn't spoiler you too much)🖤

Part of the 💌 event. More here

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Felix gently tugs on his friend's sleeve and pulls him with him. “Come on,” he laughs.

“Felix, I changed my mind; this is embarrassing,” Changbin whines softly.

“There's nothing embarrassing about it, I promise,” Felix assures him and squeezes his hand. “Also, Chan is amazing; he'll know what to do.”

“It kinda is,” he argues and groans softly as they reach Chan's room and Felix knocks. “Felix.”

“Chan will get it; I bet he'd love helping you out with this,” Felix says and pushes him inside.

Chan's at his desk, humming softly to himself, and turns in his chair. “Hey,” he smiles at them and waves towards his bed, inviting them to sit down. “Everything alright?”

“Splendid,” Felix grins and pulls Changbin with him.

“That's good,” Chan smiles and saves the file he's been working on. “You need anything?”

“I don't,” Felix smirks smugly and Changbin whines in protest. Chan frowns at them and Felix nods at Changbin. “He needs some help.”

“I swear I hate you,” Changbin groans, and Chan gets up.

“What's up? Are you okay?” Chan asks worriedly and casually rubs his back.

“Mhm,” Changbin hums and nervously fidgets with his hands in his lap. It must be so easy and nice to let Chan be in control.

Chan sits down next to him and frowns softly. “Hey, you can tell me,” he says gently, and if it wouldn't be so damn embarrassing, he would.

“I-uh,” he stammers and feels his ears burning up at the mere thought of saying what's on his mind.

Felix takes the hint and gets Chan's attention. “So, you love being in control having sex, right?”

Chan chokes on his breath at the sudden bluntness but nods. “Yes?”

“Changbin usually does as well,” he continues, and Chan nods again, growing a little confused. “But he's been curious about switching it up, you know,” Felix says, and Chan hums softly.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods, still not really knowing where this conversation is heading. “And that worries you or-?” he asks Changbin, but Felix answers instead.

“You're missing the point here. There's a reason we came to you with this. Changbin’s too shy to ask, but he'd love getting fucked stupid by you,” he grins, and Changbin’s eyes widen, cheeks flushing red.

“Felix,” he whispers, shocked.

“Oh,” Chan breathes out and blinks at them.

“I-I didn't say it like that,” Changbin stammers and punches Felix's arm awkwardly. “Oh my God, this is so bad, I'm leaving,” he gets up, eyes widening as Chan's hand finds his and holds him back.

“No, no, let's talk about this, yeah?” he asks soothingly, and Changbin sits down heavily. “Thanks, Lix, I'll take it from here.”

Felix smirks and gets up. “Have fun, you two,” he says cheerfully and hops out of the room, making Chan giggle.

“Menace,” Changbin chuckles before glancing at Chan nervously. “I'm sorry for throwing it into your face like that.”

“It's fine,” he giggles and tilts his head at him curiously. “But you'd like to try that out? Being submissive?”

Changbin nods gently and can barely meet his eyes. “I just felt like…I don't know. Whenever I thought about it, I imagined I'd feel safest with you trying that out.”

“That's sweet,” Chan smiles softly.

“You don't have to if you don't want to,” he quickly adds. “I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable or anything just to help me out and-,” his eyes widen as Chan's hand cups his cheek.

“Breathe,” he says soothingly, rubbing his thumb across his cheekbone. “I'd love to share those intimate moments with you, Binnie. I wouldn't see it as me helping you out or doing you a favor. I'd enjoy it, honestly, and I love that you're willing to trust me with this.”

Changbin exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Oh, okay,” he smiles shyly.

“But you've never been on the receiving end? Also, no fingers, no tongue, nothing?” he asks gently, and Changbin shakes his head.

“Nothing…is that a problem?” he asks timidly.

“Not at all,” Chan reassures him calmingly. “Means we can slowly work our way up, see what you like and what you don't like,” he tells him, and his friend nods, relieved. “You wanna cuddle and set up some boundaries and stuff?”

Not much later, Changbin’s head is comfortably lying on Chan's chest as the older plays with his hair. They've talked through their boundaries and settled on the color system and preferences. Chan does most of the work, asking his way forward and trying to ease Changbin, who's still awfully embarrassed about it all. It gets better here in Chan's arms, who doesn't seem to be bothered by one bit he reveals about himself.

“Feeling better now?” Chan asks gently, scratching his scalp.

“I still feel shy but not as nervous anymore,” he confesses, and Chan hums softly. “Can we…Can we just kiss for a bit tonight?” he asks timidly, and Chan giggles adoringly.

“Of course, we can,” he says and gently pats his back, sitting up against the headboard of his bed. He locks eyes with him and pats his thighs. “Come here.”

He swallows softly and chews on his lower lip. “I'm too heavy,” he whispers timidly, and Chan's face falls at the pain in his eyes.

“Binnie,” he says softly before lifting him into his lap effortlessly and smiling at him. “You're not, not to me.” He soothingly fondles up his thighs and searches his eyes. “You're okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods quickly and hesitantly wraps his arms around his neck. He shivers as Chan's hands find his hips and locks eyes with him.

Chan flashes him a reassuring smile and squeezes his hips before leaning in a little. “Can I kiss you?” he asks politely.

“Yes, please,” he breathes out so naturally it surprises him for a second. He doesn't have much time to think, though, because Chan's hand cradles his cheek, and their lips brush together. He melts into the kiss, body automatically searching Chan's, eyes fluttering close.

Chan hums softly and weaves his fingers into Changbin’s hair, keeping him in place as they kiss. His unoccupied hand travels below his shirt and up his back, making the younger male melt into his touch with a soft sound. Chan is testing the waters as they kiss, hand roaming his strong back, and he slowly detaches himself from his lips. Leaving a trail of kisses down his jaw, he gently pulls him back by his hair before kissing his neck.

Changbin breathes out shakily at the change, hand hesitantly burying itself in Chan's curls as he paints his neck with loving kisses and tiny nibbles at his skin. “Chan hyung,” he whispers after a while, squirming a little in his lap. Chan hums against his collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses there. As he doesn't answer, Chan pulls back, and Changbin blushes furiously. He wants, no, needs more, but he doesn't know how to ask.

Luckily, Chan seems to understand and gently tugs at the hem of his sweater. “Can I take that off?” His friend nods timidly, and Chan kisses him soothingly as he eases the fabric up his chest before pulling back to take it off. “Mine as well?” he offers and lets Changbin take his sweater off for him.

Chan lowers Changbin onto his mattress and straddles his lap, hovering above him. He continues his trail of kisses down his neck, gently sucking at the small bites to mark him up. Moving further down on top of him, he kisses down his chest, groaning softly as he can bury his teeth in his pecs. He laps at his nipples, sucking softly and grazing his teeth over his buds. Changbin beneath him moans sweetly, clearly trying to keep the noise down, and Chan lets him for now.

Chan takes his time, painting a beautiful picture of love all over his torso. Small bites growing into pretty marks adorn his hips, featherlight kisses trail along the hem of his boxers, and Changbin can't stop squirming beneath him. After checking in and getting consent, Chan gently shoves down his sweatpants, continuing his trail down his thighs before going back up on his inner thighs. His fingers sink into his skin, spreading his legs when he tries to shy away the closer he gets to where he needs him most. Very obviously by now.

Chan rests his head on his thigh once he's done after what felt like hours of soft pleasure for Changbin. He glances up at him through his lashes, and Changbin gulps softly at how blown his pupils look. “We don't have to, but would you like to try how my tongue feels for now?”

“You mean…,” he trails off as Chan nods and a low moan escapes his lips. “Please, Chan hyung,” he nods quickly.

They change their spots in bed once more, letting Changbin get comfortable against Chan's pillows. Chan smiles down at him and brushes back his hair for him, which is already sticking to his forehead a little. His eyes are wide and hungry, his lips swollen, and his cheeks flushed. “I know I said it before, but you're so beautiful,” he tells him softly, only deepening the blush on his cheeks.

“Stop it,” he mumbles weakly, and everything about his body language tells Chan differently.

Chan gently shoves a pillow beneath his hips and locks eyes with him again. “You're ready?” he checks in, and Changbin nods, blushing softly as Chan eases down his boxers, already stained a little from Chan’s body brushing against his lap whenever he has moved on top of him. “Say yellow if you need a break, red if you want to stop, okay?” he reminds him, and the younger male nods, biting his lower lip hard as Chan gets comfortable between his legs. “Words, beautiful.”

His lips part softly, body shivering at the small compliment and Chan makes a mental note of it for another time. “Yes, Chan hyung,” he nods, and Chan hums, clearly pleased. For a second, his nervosity takes the upper hand, and he’s about to stop Chan as he spreads his cheeks, but all protest dies in his throat when Chan’s tongue licks up slowly between them. His lips part with a soft gasp as Chan’s tongue circles his tensing hole, hands gripping the sheets tightly at the unfamiliar feeling. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers, and Chan chuckles softly, making Changbin gasp at the vibrations shooting through his body from it.

Chan gently presses his tongue inside after a while, and Changbin falls apart above him with a soft whimper. He gently guides his legs onto his shoulders and soothingly rubs his thighs as he pushes in deeper. A strangled groan leaves his lips as he tries to keep quiet, unsure if Chan would mind him being loud or maybe even whiny if he kept going like that. He throws his arm over his face, trying to hide as Chan makes him fall apart with his damn tongue only. Chan glances up at him, pulling back and smirking at the whine that leaves his lips. “Binnie,” he says softly, giggling as he glances at him shyly. “Make as much noise as you want to,” he assures him, and Changbin can tell he means it. “Also, you can touch, baby,” he tells him and gently guides his hand down to his hair.

“O-Okay,” he stumbles over his words, not trying to be desperate and beg him to continue.

Chan giggles adoringly and squeezes his thighs. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute-” he protests and breaks off with a sweet moan as Chan eases his tongue back inside. “Nevermind,” he huffs, grip tightening on Chan’s hair to steady himself. He pulls at the sheets with a desperate little sound, and Chan reaches up, gently easing the fabric from his hand and replacing it with his own. He intertwines their fingers and lovingly squeezes his hand.

Chan pulls back after another while when Changbin’s moans turn needy and at the edge of frustration. “Need more?” he asks, and Changbin nods weakly. “Would you be okay with me using my fingers?”

“Yes, hyung,” he nods, heart warming at how caring Chan is with him, always making sure he's okay.

“Okay, try to relax, yeah?” he tells him and fumbles for the bottle of lube stored away in his bedside table. He spreads some on his fingers and watches Changbin observantly as he pushes the first one inside. “Breathe,” he tells him softly, and Changbin’s head falls back with a soft noise. Chan gently pulls his finger out a little before pushing back in. “Feels okay?”

“s’good,” he groans and soon asks for more. A loud moan leaves his lips as Chan scissors two fingers inside of him, stretching him out deliciously. He covers his mouth in shock, and Chan giggles softly, leaning down.

He gently takes his hand away and replaces it with his lips, kissing him and stifling his next moan.

Changbin shudders beneath him and kisses back fiercely. He's so close, and he can't even blame himself because Chan's kissing session before had worked him up so much already. “Hyung,” he moans out weakly, subconsciously fucking back against his fingers. “I'm so close.”

Chan hums and curls his fingers, dragging them over his prostate. Changbin’s body tenses, eyes rolling back and mouth dropping with the prettiest moan so far.

His world explodes before his eyes with white, hot flashes as he paints their chests with thick ropes of cum. Chan's name tumbles from his lips, and he can't stop shaking at the intensity of his orgasm. He doesn't fully register Chan leaving as his brain tries to accept the fact that he just came untouched.

Chan gently cleans him up and reaches up to brush his hair from his face once he's done. “You're okay?”

“More than okay,” he smiles shyly and leans into his touch.

“Let's take a nice shower, and then we can cuddle if you want,” he offers, and Changbin nods gently.

Once they're in the shower and Changbin gets a full view of his hyung, his brain stops working for a moment. He's on his knees before he can fully process it and stares up at him with wide eyes. “Can I make you feel good in return?” he asks, blushing a little at Chan's intense gaze. Chan gives in, suspecting Changbin feels like he has to repay him.

The moment Changbin welcomes him in the wet warmth of his mouth Chan's head drops back against the tiles of his shower with a loud groan. He definitely knows what he’s doing.

Two weeks later

Changbin glances at Chan in the recording booth and shifts a little in his chair. Since their night together, none of them had made a move. Chan wanted to give Changbin the time he needed, and Changbin chickened out at least three times this week at the thought of asking for more. It's getting harder to stop himself today since it's just them. Watching Chan work has always been something he enjoyed.

“How was that, Binnie?” Chan's voice pulls him from his thoughts.

“Uh, let's listen back to it,” he says and tries to listen, but Chan groans as he hears the recording, bringing up memories of their shared shower.

“No, delete that one,” Chan shakes his head before lifting his shirt to wipe his face, getting hot in the booth.

Changbin can't help but stare at his bare stomach, the waistband of his boxers clearly on display. Shit. “Chan hyung?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah?” Chan asks, grabbing the sheets with his text and mindlessly switching them.

“How long did Jisung say he'd be gone?” he asks, and Chan frowns.

“I don't know, I think another hour or two,” he shrugs. “Why?”

“Because I…I need you,” he admits, and the sheets slip from Chan's fingers.

He quickly bends down to gather them and hits his head at the microphone coming back up. “Yeah, okay, shit,” he curses softly and steps out of the booth. “Here? Now?” he asks, and Changbin blushes heavily.

“I didn't exactly think this through,” he confesses, and the grin that covers Chan's lips at that makes him squeeze his thighs together tightly.

“Mhm, I think to go all the way for the first time, we should stick to home,” he says, and Changbin nods agreeingly. “But I do have something in my mind since last time.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly, heart warming at the fact that Chan's been thinking about him as well.

“Mhm,” Chan hums softly. “I really want to eat you out while you sit on my face,” he says, ears burning up a little. At first, Changbin seems intrigued, but suddenly, a shadow travels over his face, and he timidly lowers his gaze. “Or not?” he asks gently.

Changbin fidgets with his hands and shakes his head. “I can't.”

“We don't have to if you don't want to; that's okay,” Chan promises, worried that he overstepped a boundary now.

“No, I-I want to, I just-” he swallows hard, feeling tears burning in his eyes as memories crash down on him in waves and threaten to drown him. “I'm too heavy,” he whispers.

Chan kneels down on the floor in front of his chair and gently unclasps his hands, taking them. That's the second time he mentioned this. “Binnie,” he says softly. “Where's that coming from, hm? Who told you such bullshit?” Changbin exhales shakily and glances at Chan, whose face softens, spotting the tears in his eyes. “Heyy, you can tell me, baby.”

Chan listens patiently as Changbin tells him about some guy he's been seeing before they started messing around among the group. He explains how they'd get intimate, but whenever they wanted to switch things up, he backed out last minute, blaming his weight. “I'm fine. I forgot about it, but…it's coming back a little now that I could have it,” he admits, and Chan cups his face, wiping away a tear for him.

“My beautiful Binnie,” he says so softly it tugs at Changbin’s heartstrings. “You're perfect, and that guy is some massive asshole,” he tells him, making him chuckle. “Please, I'm literally on my knees, please sit on my face and let me give you what you wanted.”

Changbin gently shoves his chest. “You're not the one supposed to be begging here.”

Chan giggles. “I will, just this once,” he winks at him and gets up, kissing his forehead sweetly. “If you still want it, I will make it happen. If not, it's okay.”

Changbin searches his eyes timidly and finds nothing but genuine interest and love in them. He swallows down his anxiety and nods weakly. “Please, Chan hyung,” he breathes out.

Chan cups his face and gives him a gentle but long kiss. “Do you trust me?” he asks calmly.

“Yes,” he nods, sinking deep into Chan's soft chocolate orbs. “I do.”

“Good,” he nods and soothingly rubs his thumbs across his cheekbones. “So if I tell you to move or sit down, you'll be a good boy and do as I say.”

Changbin swallows down his worries and feels a sense of trust and calmness taking over as he looks into his hyung’s eyes. Chan can see the change in his eyes, heart skipping a beat at how soft and vulnerable his friend looks. “I'll be a good boy.”

“That's right, my pretty boy,” Chan smiles satisfied.

“Yours?” he asks, growing shy at Chan's stunned look.

“Mine,” he nods sweetly and gives him another quick kiss, making the younger melt into it. “Now come on, before Ji gets back,” he whispers and winks at him mischievously. Chan grabs everything they need and quickly locks the door, getting comfortable on the sofa. He guides Changbin into his lap and pulls him into a kiss, trying to ease his nerves.

Changbin anxiously positions himself above Chan’s face, taking a deep breath as Chan’s hands find his thighs. At first, he shies away from his touch, suddenly insecure again, but Chan doesn’t let him. His tongue continues its delicious play from two weeks ago, and Changbin can’t think much anymore. He still tries to take some weight off, but he doesn't succeed for long because Chan notices and pulls him down, gaining a groan from both of them. The longer Chan goes on, the weaker he grows, and he ends up bent over, arms resting on the sofa, his face buried in them with weak sounds.

Chan moans deliciously beneath him, shuddering at the soft whines leaving Changbin’s lips. His hands knead his ass and thighs, eyes rolling back as Changbin starts fucking back onto his tongue.

He growls in protest as Changbin suddenly grows lighter on him again, taking some weight off him again. Changbin bites his lip, already missing how deep Chan got only seconds ago. But the strangled sounds coming from him worry him, and he feels like he can't do this to him any longer. He has to help a little.

Chan pats his thigh twice, signaling him to sit up. He blinks at him once he does and frowns. “What did I tell you?”

“To be a good boy,” he answers shyly.

“You enjoyed it, didn't you?” he asks gently, and Changbin nods, a heavy blush creeping up his neck and settling on his cheeks. “Why did you stop then?”

“Are you enjoying it?” he asks quietly.

“I fucking love it,” Chan says bluntly and squints at him. “Now sit down properly, baby; I won't ask again.”

“Y-yes, hyung,” he nods quickly and gets back into position.

The next time he tries to take some weight off, Chan's grip is firm, keeping him in place. Changbin whimpers in protest as his hips start stuttering, pace growing a little rough as he chases his high. But Chan doesn't budge, moaning filthily against him and guiding him through. Changbin’s stomach flips hard, and tears shoot to his eyes. Chan was not only able to carry his weight on top of him, he even enjoyed it.

Five days later

Changbin smirks to himself as Chan drives them back home. Today, everyone would be out for a movie and dinner after, which seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to take the next step without having to keep quiet or anything. Changbin had made up an excuse of feeling overwhelmed, and Chan had assured their friends he'd stay with him. So once they knew everyone would be gone, they stopped working and started their way home. Chan had been touchy all day, driving him mad, seemingly excited as well.

Once they're inside, Changbin strolls over to their kitchen island, inspecting the various cookies their friends made. He reaches forward to grab the note Minho wrote them and yelps, surprised when Chan suddenly wraps his arms around his waist, pressing his already hardening dick against his bum. “Chan hyung?” he asks, and Chan groans softly in response, burying his face in his back.

“I swear I could take you right here if I wouldn't know better,” he confesses, making Changbin’s mouth water. “You're so cute, you don't even know; it's driving me insane,” he tells him and runs his hands up his torso. “Couldn't stop thinking about it all day.”

Changbin blushes at his words and bites his lower lip, pressing back against him. His lips part in surprise at Chan's growl, and he feels like he's about to pass out when Chan starts grinding against his ass. “Really, Chan hyung?” he asks innocently, pressing back against him more. “You think I'm cute?”

Chan moans needily as he grinds against him. “So cute,” he tells him. “Made me so hard I had to take a long shower after dance practice.”

Changbin moans in response. “That's why you were gone so long?” he asks, and Chan starts fumbling with the waistband of his trousers.

“Sofa, now. I need some release right now,” Chan announces so casually it makes him dizzy. “Right now, I'm thinking with my dick; that's not good when I should take my time with you,” he admits honestly.

“Fuck, do whatever you want to me, hyung,” Changbin moans needily. “Use me, please.” He finds himself on the sofa within no time, with Chan straddling his lap.

Chan drags his hips across his lap and moans loudly at the needed friction. He braces himself on his chest, and Changbin’s hands find his thighs, fingers digging into his skin as Chan humps his lap forcefully. “You can move,” Chan pants, head falling back as he does. “Yeah, just like that, Binnie,” he praises him, and their moans mix beautifully. “Doing so good for your hyung,” he tells him, head dropping forward with a broken moan as Changbin rolls his hips up against him.

“Feels so good, hyung,” he moans out.

It doesn't take long, and Chan above him tenses up with a soft, relieved cry, shuddering as he cums in his pants. His eyebrows furrow with bliss, lips parting with silent moans, hips stuttering their way through his high. Changbin can't get enough of the sight of his hyung stumbling over the edge; he's a different type of pretty then. Also, it makes him all fuzzy, knowing he's the reason. Chan drops down onto the sofa next to him with a soft grunt and rubs his face, trying to catch his breath. “Okay,” he says after a moment. “That's better.”

“Your brain restarted?” Changbin teases softly, making him giggle.

“Mhm, until you're undressed and moaning that beautifully,” he tells him, and Changbin blushes furiously. Chan gets up and helps him off the sofa before lifting him up.

Changbin wraps his legs around his waist quickly and holds onto him with wide eyes. “Channie, hyung, let me down. I'm-” his words die in his throat at Chan's firm look.

“Do I look like this is exhausting me?” he asks patiently, stopping in his tracks.

“No,” he whispers.

“I wouldn't pick you up if I thought I couldn't handle that, Binnie,” he tells him, and Changbin’s eyes brim with tears. “Okay,” he whispers and walks back to the sofa, sitting down with him in his lap. “Come here,” he says softly and pulls him into a strong hug.

“I'm sorry,” he sniffles timidly, and Chan runs his hand through his hair.

He soothingly kisses his head and rubs his back. “You're okay,” he tells him. “Don't listen to that voice in your head, yeah?” he asks and earns a nod and silent hum. “Do you still have his number? I'd love to invite him and show him how it's done,” he says, smirking when Changbin starts laughing.

“You're so stupid.”

“I know,” he giggles, and they stay there until he's alright.

Chan then carries him upstairs, kissing his worries away, and kicks his door closed before lowering him onto his bed.

“You think Binnie will be okay?” Jisung asks thoughtfully. “I haven't noticed anything off all day,” he admits.

“Not really,” Seungmin shrugs, thinking back to the time they all spent together.

“Oh, I think he's just fine,” Felix assures them, and Jeongin squints at him.

“You're sure?” he asks suspiciously.

“Why?” Hyunjin asks.

“Why what?” Felix tries to stall time to come up with an answer.

“Why are you sure he's okay when he said he wasn't?” Jeongin clarifies.

“Because Chan hyung is fucking him stupid right now,” Minho says casually, sipping on his drink.

“Excuse me, what?” Hyunjin asks with wide eyes.

“Minho hyung, you can't just say shit like that,” Jisung rolls his eyes at him.

“You're all so blind if you didn't see that,” Minho rolls his eyes right back at them. “They've been growing closer for weeks now, and we all know Changbin was interested in submitting to Chan.”

Seungmin blinks at him as Minho keeps sipping on his drink. “On a scale from one to ten, how bored are you?”

“A solid eleven on some days, why?” he asks, tilting his head and pulling a face at him.

“How do you even notice that stuff?” Hyunjin asks flabbergasted.

“How do you not?” Felix asks tiredly, and Minho hums agreeingly.

“You guys are ridiculous,” he giggles happily.

“Okay, try to relax for me, yeah?” Chan asks gently, aligning himself with his hole. “I'll go slow and gentle; you tell me if it hurts.”

“Yes,” Changbin nods, growing impatient. Chan had eaten him out patiently and then fingered him open for what felt like hours. His dick is leaking onto his stomach, his hole clenching around nothing, and his body screaming for a release. He just wants to finally feel him inside, finally experience what Minho has described as “incredible sex” talking about Chan.

Chan starts pushing inside, groaning at how tight he still is, and closely watches his face. Once he's past the tip, Changbin tenses up beneath him, and Chan stops moving immediately. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, keep moving,” he nods quickly, heart sinking a little. Did Minho have a thing for pain? This doesn't feel exactly comfortable.

Chan eyes him suspiciously and pushes in a little more, watching Changbin’s eyes clouding with a pained expression. “I'm hurting you, right?”

“No, it's fine,” he shakes his head, sounding a little strained. “Just keep going, please.”

Chan shakes his head and pulls out again, grabbing the bottle of lube. “Binnie, we have all the time you need. I won't rush and hurt you in the process,” he tells him firmly and gently pushes in two fingers again.

Changbin whines softly and pushes back against them. “Please,” he whimpers, and Chan gently caresses his cheek with his other hand.

Chan stretches him out on his fingers, adding another two in the process, and kisses him, swallowing up his frustrated little sounds. Finally, he gets back into his prior position, trying again. This time, it goes easier, and Changbin beneath him gasps as he slowly pushes inside. “Better?” he grunts softly, reminding himself to go slow.

“Yes,” he nods eagerly, and this time he believes him. His jaw drops once Chan is buried inside him, and he can't help but squirm a little, feeling so full.

“Take your time,” Chan tells him, holding himself back. He gently rubs his thigh, watching him closely as he gets adjusted to the feeling.

“O-Okay,” he breathes out after a moment. “I think I'm ready.”

Chan nods and carefully pulls back before pushing back inside. Changbin sighs softly at the feeling of him massaging his walls as he works out a gentle rhythm. Chan lowers himself onto his arms, bracing himself next to his head, and smiles at him. He plants a few kisses down his jaw, and Changbin’s hand finds his back resting between his shoulder blades. “Don't be shy; let me hear you,” he tells him as he notices him trying to keep the noise down.

“I'm too loud,” he protests softly, biting back another moan as Chan picks up the pace a little.

“It's just us,” Chan reminds him and moans softly as Changbin clenches around him. “Wanna hear if I fuck you good, Binnie.”

“Fucks sake,” he groans at his bluntness, locking eyes with him. He swallows at how blown Chan’s pupils are, sheer need and passion clouding those usually so soft orbs. The next thrust pulls a beautiful, loud whine from him, and Chan buries his face in his shoulder with a soft groan at the sound.

“That’s more like it,” he moans, kissing his neck and thrusting deep. “Fuck, you’re still so tight,” he grunts, and Changbin squirms a little. “Such a good boy, taking me so well.”

“Chan hyung,” he moans softly, his whole body responding to his praise. “You feel so good,” he tells him breathlessly.

Chan’s hips slam forward into him as he clenches around him, shifting positions a little. Changbin’s head falls back with an obscenely loud moan, and Chan stops moving, eyes widening. “Shit, sorry,” he apologizes immediately, swallowing as Changbin blinks up at him with glistening eyes.

“Please, do that again,” he whispers needily.

“You want me to be rough?” he asks quietly, and Changbin nods, biting his lower lip hard at the hunger clouding Chan’s eyes.

He arches into him and looks up at him through his lashes. “Please, hyung.”

Chan pulls out and grabs him by the waist, flipping him onto his stomach effortlessly. Changbin moans out, stunned, getting incredibly turned on by Chan handling him with such ease. Chan pulls him onto his knees and pushes back inside, grip firm on his hips as he sets a rougher pace. Changbin arches his back, melting into the pillow and gripping the sheets with a loud whine. Chan makes sure he’s comfortable with this and keeps a close eye on him before covering his hands with his own, intertwining their fingers. He plants soft kisses on his back, leaning down to his ear. “Such a good boy, Binnie. Doing so well, baby,” he praises him with little grunts as he pounds into him.

Changbin can’t do much but whine his name, shivering as he hits his prostate. “Chan~.” He collapses into the mattress with Chan lowering himself on top of him, covering him with his body as their skin meets with forceful slaps. “Right, there, please,” he cries out as Chan repeatedly hits his sweet spot, moaning sinfully above him. The bedframe hits the wall in sync with Chan’s forceful thrusts, growing sloppier the closer he gets. “Chan,” he moans repeatedly, arching back into him. “So close.”

“Wanna cum?” he presses out, not that far away from his sweet release himself.

“Please, hyungie,” he whines.

“Make a mess, pretty boy,” Chan tells him and buries his face in his back. “Cum for me, yeah? Be a good boy, baby.”

Changbin doesn’t need another invitation and covers the sheets beneath him as he cums with a loud cry, whimpering as Chan fucks him through it, chasing his own release.

“Inside?” Chan asks, hips stuttering.

“Yes,” he groans, getting a little overstimulated by now. His jaw grows slack at the sensation of Chan reaching his high, painting his walls with thick ropes of cum before collapsing on top of him. For a minute, they stay silent, both calming down a little before Chan moves on top of him, kissing his shoulder gently.

“And that wasn’t too rough?” he checks in and Changbin weakly shakes his head.

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he tells him, making him giggle. “Don’t laugh, I mean it,” he pouts, blushing a little as Chan kisses his cheek.

“You’re so cute,” he grins, and Changbin huffs.

“Will you stop calling me cute?” he laughs, and Chan squeezes him gently.

“Never,” he smirks before pushing himself up with a soft grunt. “Alright, let’s get cleaned up before the others return back home.”

Changbin smiles to himself and hums agreeingly. Minho had been right; Chan is incredible.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@atinyniki @mal-lunar-28 @lilmisssona @aaasia111 @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @malfoygalaxies @michelle4eve @lixie-phoria @gxtwllsn @xxstrayland @kibs-and-bits @5starluvr (@turtledove824 @lost-in-avoidance) @candycrunchstay

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freak-accident419 · 5 months

Text

Good Looking Boy

Billy (Burn 2019) x GN!Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary: On a chilly December night, you and Billy catch up. Then, you make an important decision.

Word Count: 3.1k

Content: gender neutral reader, fluff, cursing, alcohol, mention of holidays (gift giving), slight suggestive comment

(A/n: thank you to everyone for all your support for this short multiple-part fic! It means so much to me! I hope I did its finale justice :) also credit to the person who suggested a bar scene !)

You watched him take a short sip of his beer as you fidgeted with your bottle.

You two agreed that you would catch up at this bar at the corner of the street when you were done with your shift. It has only been a few weeks since you’ve last seen him, but it felt like forever to you, hence the slight awkwardness in the atmosphere.

“So… did you pay off your debt…?” You ask hesitantly, continuing to fidget with the beer bottle in front of you. You finally looked at him, observing his brown eyes softening at the sight of you. The right side of his face was still scarred by the second-degree burn that hot coffee gave him. But you’ve only ever seen him like this, and so, to you, he still looked as handsome as he was since you last saw him.

“Yeah, I… I paid them off,” he answered bluntly.

“And the thing with the bikers? Are you… on good terms with them now?”

In response, he let out a scoff and a quiet chuckle, shaking his head.

“Ugh, dude, what did you do?” You say with exasperation, though amused by his lighthearted manner.

“They wanted the money, but, um… They all sort of… still hate me, so… those assholes gave me a warning: if they see my face again, they’ll kill me, so…” He trails off, taking a fairly tame swig of alcohol before he continues. You noticed that he seemed calmer since you’ve last seen him. As if he worked on himself, his temper, and spontaneous vulgarity. You admired that. “I’m gonna have to go. Unwillingly leave town, you know.”

“Damn,” you mutter, briefly sipping your drink. “That was your initial plan anyways though, right? To, like, just leave this place?”

He let out a soft sigh, which slightly puzzled you. Why did he seem so disappointed?

“Before I was on my way to meet up with them, I just… I got the idea that maybe I just shouldn’t leave. I thought that, um… leaving someplace that’s, uh… desirable… would be a very idiotic thing for me to do,” he explains, only baffling you even more.

“Okay? But you said it yourself, after you paid them off, you wanted to leave town and start anew, have a fresh start. What makes Upstate New York so… great, I guess, that you don’t want to leave?” You inquire with a lighthearted chuckle.

He fidgets with his beer bottle anxiously before looking back at you to answer. “You…”

You were stunned. You opened your mouth slightly to respond, but no words came out. You didn’t know him too well—but after an hour of being stuck together, you knew him enough, at the very least. But why did you have such an impact on him? You guessed that you had an indubitable liking for him too—similar to a childlike crush, though fueled solely by shared trauma. But you never really thought of it that much until now.

“Billy, I…” you stuttered out. “I… I mean… You had a whole plan, I… I just don’t understand. I like you, Billy, but… why should I be the reason you would want to stay here? You don’t really know me…”

“Well…” He wanted to argue that you two already learned a lot about each other from the time you’ve spent together, but even he realized it would be faulty reasoning. “Fuck, I want to get to know you better, then,” he urged gently.

He looked down at your hands, which were on the table near your drink. He reached his hands towards yours hesitantly, giving you a look by the raise of his eyebrows that asked for your permission. You nodded, watching him finally grab your hands, observing your one wrist, in which the bruise from the zip tie was completely gone. He tenderly rubbed his thumb over your wrists and palms. You felt the warm metal of his ring run against your skin as he would move his index finger. The slightly red dent on his wrist that you last saw on the day you escaped had also disappeared entirely. So it seemed like the only thing that followed him—the only thing that haunted him ever since the gas station, was his burn scar.

“I just…” he began, continuing to look down at your hands as he caressed them. It was something he did a lot, you noticed. You think it calmed him down. “I don’t know why I’m so… pulled to you. It’s fucking stupid, I know, and I’ve probably sounded like a dumbass this entire time, but… I mean it when I say I want to get to know you.”

You stared down at your hands in his, unsure of how you felt. “Well… The bikers, they said that they were gonna kill you if they see your face again. That’s, like… implying they want you out of town. You have to go, Billy. You can’t, shit, risk your life for me.”

“That’s why I want you to run away with me,” he urged softly.

“Billy—”

“I want you to come with me,” he pleads. In his mind, Billy thought it was quite ironic how he wanted you to go with him so badly; he rejected Melinda almost immediately when she asked to go with him. But this was different. You weren’t Melinda. You were you. And he desperately wanted to leave with you. But there seemed to be no way for that to happen.

“Billy, we already talked about this. I… I can’t just leave everything I have here behind,” you reason. “Plus, it’s been weeks ever since I last saw you. You had all this time to come see me, where have you been?”

He pursed his lips. “After the bikers gave me a few ‘friendly’ warning shots, I sort of left immediately. I just kept going west. Stayed in a couple motels. But it just… felt wrong, you know? I felt empty and… fuck, out of place… So, I guess I just… came back here to see you one more time…” he confessed, making your heart beat faster and face warmer. Nobody has ever done this grand of a gesture for you. You almost felt bad. You had made a deep connection with him back at the gas station, and suddenly you were worth a lot to him. “Shit, I… I honestly couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to, because I knew it would be… really fucking bad if I tried to come back, but… You were always on my mind. Every second, I… thought about your laughter, and your voice, and I didn’t want to forget it. And-and most of all, you saved my life.” You frowned, because you considered it as a team effort, rather. “Something finally good in my life, for the first fucking time, happened to me and I can’t just—just stand by and let it just leave while I could do something about it.”

You were surprised, to say the least. You never knew you could be this important to someone, let alone someone you’ve only been around with for less than a day. “Billy, I—” You stammered with fluster. “I have to admit, I thought about you multiple times ever since. I sort of always wished I’d run into you whenever I went to a gas station. I think I even dreamed about you multiple times… To be honest, I always thought what would’ve happened if I said yes before and left with you.” He felt your thumb trace delicately along the back of his hand. “Never thought I’d ever think of a gas station robber as handsome and charming.” He chuckled softly in response, his lips forming into a cute, flattered smile.

“I love that you’re here, really. I love that you came back to see me,” You told him. “But… like I said, I can’t come with you.” You would love to, however, you knew it. But you couldn’t just leave everything you had here behind… Could you?

He sighed softly. “Okay, I understand,” he says. “But shit, just… Let me get to know you better before I have to leave for sure. Please. How about I just take you for a drive, then? Just around the block?”

Billy was heavily insistent. After all, he always goes for what he wants.

“The both of us have been drinking, Billy,” you say with guilt. You hated constantly rejecting him. You did want to get to know him better, you did want to spend time with him, but the circumstances and motives were utterly complicated.

You chuckled a bit, however, sort of amused by how much he wanted to be around you. “I don’t know, you can’t just, like… enjoy the moment right now?” You ask as you two look back down at your hands, which were being gently rubbed against each other, Billy’s thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“I don’t know if that’s gonna be enough for me, Y/n,” he claimed dejectedly.

“Why don’t we just take a walk, then? To, like, the nearest park or something,” you offer, feeling his warm fingertips glide softly over your nails. “We could… We could do that.”

After thinking about it for a second, he nodded compliantly.

***

It was supposed to be dark outside, however the street lamps nearby and string lights across buildings liberally illuminated the area. It has been probably half an hour since you two sat down on a park bench, just speaking to each other with occasional banter. That was probably the strongest thing you had with him: communication. Just talking about random things that led to discovering more things about one another. You’d done that while you were tied up together after all. It was how you mainly connected in that moment.

That was another thing, however. You weren’t forced in proximity anymore, but you two still wanted more of each other. Even if you didn’t show it. Your rejection did quite a number on Billy’s belief that his feelings were reciprocated, but as you two proceeded to laugh and talk together, it was reinforced.

“Okay… Quentin Tarantino.” You raise an eyebrow, grinning as you watched your warm breath escape your lips in a hazy, white mist.

“Damn. That one foot fetish guy?” he laughed.

“Yeah, the—the foot fetish guy,” you chuckle softly.

“Okay, easy, Pulp Fiction,” he answered. Met with your silence, he looked at you and you shook your head, smiling. “No?”

“No, I wouldn’t make it that obvious—”

“Kill Bill.”

“N—”

“Volume one or two?” You grin as he continued to guess wrong in your game. “Seriously, none of those?”

“From Dusk Til Dawn?” He nearly pouted, it was adorable. “I give up.”

“Jackie Brown. C’mon, man,” you snicker.

He playfully rolled his eyes, scoffing, making you giggle.

This was something you two did back at Paradise Pumps as well, while tied up and exhausted. You made a little game where you basically had to think of a movie and the other had to guess it by only knowing the name of its director.

He smiles softly as he looks at you, but then it gradually dropped, as the recurring thought that he would never see you again invaded his mind once more.

“You good?” You ask reluctantly, seeing his facial expression change.

“Yeah, I just…”

“You don’t want to leave me?” You finish his sentence with a sigh, seeing him nod in response. “It’s not so bad, Billy. You could leave, settle down, start a new life and leave behind all that crime and… biker gang beef,” you offer a small laugh before you continue.

“You could find somebody who is worthier than me. Someone who you didn’t bond with through shared trauma and forced proximity. Someone who would leave everything behind just for you, unlike me.” You wish you could, honestly. What was really stopping you? Fear? Guilt?

Billy scoffs as he listened to your statements, deeming them as bullshit. “Y/n, respectfully, shut the fuck up.” Your eyebrows raise in bewilderment. “I don’t want someone else, okay? I want you... Just you.”

Your heart nearly stopped and you looked at him with sole adoration for him.

And you had no idea what came over you in this moment, because once you heard him say this, you immediately pressed your lips to his, while hesitantly bringing your hands up to his face to gently hold it.

You heard his breath hitch as he soon melts into the kiss, moving his lips with yours and holding onto your wrists. His lips were soft and warm, and he was being nothing but gentle with you. You felt the the tender skin of his burn against your fingertips, your delicate and careful touch soothing him.

You weren’t sure what kind of confidence boost let you do something so impulsive as kissing someone. But the entire night, Billy had been relentlessly winning over your heart, expressing his immense admiration for you. You fell for him. And you had to do something about that.

“Fuck, you know, that…” he began hoarsely once your lips have separated, yet your faces were still very close to each other, switching back and forth from looking deeply into one’s eyes to their lips. “That was fucking evil. That just made it even harder for me to leave you,” he stressed as you two let out small, quiet chuckles.

He convinced you enough, you thought. What did you really have to lose…?

Or, rather, what would you gain?

“You don’t have to,” your voice was slightly raspy as you spoke with a smirk.

And what you would say next had marked your decision. “I’m coming with you, cowboy.”

He parted his lips in shock, so before he could say anything, you just kissed him again, deeply and affectionately, as you couldn’t help but smile in the kiss. You felt him pull you closer by the waist in a fairly strong grip, as if you were to disappear if he let you go. It was a sweet and affectionate kiss, the two of you expressing your admiration and fondness for each other. It was supposed to be cold, hell, it was December in New York. But you couldn’t help but feel pure warmth each second your kiss remained.

*** Two Weeks Later ***

“Open it,” you giggle softly.

“Seriously, when did you get the time to wrap a whole ass gift when we’ve been, like, on the road together this whole time?” Billy says with a smile as he examines the thin, neatly wrapped box in his hands.

“I found a service. While you were preoccupied. Now shut up. Happy Holidays. Open the damn thing.”

It’s been about two weeks since you agreed with leaving with him. After resigning from your job, you basically packed your bags and savings and he picked you up. You two didn’t face any problems so far as you traveled east. You only had an increased admiration for each other, as well as mutual understandings.

Now, you were in an empty parking lot, keeping warm inside the car during the evening. You surprised him with a wrapped gift for the holidays.

You watched him rip off the wrapping paper, making you involuntarily laugh as you saw his expression of disbelief, represented by his playful scoff and the rolling of his eyes.

‘Never Get Angry Again: The Foolproof Way to Stay Calm and in Control in Any Conversation or Situation’ by David J. Lieberman, PhD

He raised his eyebrows as he read over the cover of the anger management book and presented it to you. “Seriously?”

You snicker impishly as you see an amused smile creep at the corner of his lips. “Told you I would, didn’t I?”

“You are terrible,” Billy joked endearingly with a low chuckle.

“I know,” you retort cunningly, reaching over the center console of the car to give him a soft peck on the lips.

“But you have to admit, Y/n, I have been working on myself ever since,” he points out, making you scoff.

“Yeah, but you totally lashed out on that one guy when we were at that convenience store in Pittsburgh,” you insist.

“Okay, well, in my defense, I really didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he shrugged with a knowing grin.

“Damn, should I have gotten you a book on jealousy as well?” you sneer.

“Hey, watch it,” he warned playfully.

“You know what, yeah, you’re right. I digress,” you concur nonchalantly. “If it weren’t for him getting an intense reaction out of you, then you wouldn’t have taken me straight to the bathroom and—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” he chuckled softly as you laughed at your own delivery. “Just…” He reached in the back, grabbing a brown box that was sealed with clear tape. “Open your gift. Sorry I didn’t have the time to wrap it, like, I still have no idea how you had the time to do it behind my back, but yeah.”

He handed you his keys so you could rip the tape, then you opened the box, being met with styrofoam packaging. You removed the top layer, and then let out a small gasp as you saw the object, taking it in your hands.

It was a small Albany, New York snow globe. You were beaming as you shook it, watching the “snow” fall down on the capitol building.

“I thought you’d be homesick, so I snatched it right before we left,” he explained, smiling as he sees your reaction.

“Oh my god, Billy, it’s perfect,” you say in awe, then reach over the center console again to hug him tightly, feeling his arms wrap around you. “Thank you so much,” you say, kissing him deeply on his lips.

“‘F course, Y/n,” he mumbled sweetly, affectionately returning your kisses.

“You’re perfect,” you nearly whispered as you set the snow globe back in the box so your hands were free to hold his face. He always loved when you would do that. It brought a sort of comfort to him, making him feel safe and secure. He leaned into your touch as you kissed the right side of his face—his forehead and cheek—which were the areas that had been mildly burnt.

“Even when I robbed a gas station?” He asked under his breath, raising an eyebrow.

“Seriously?”

He always had a problem with being defined and associated with criminality, so you found it quite ironic for him to point it out.

“I’m fucking with you.”

You shove him playfully, which only resulted in him bringing you into an intense, deep kiss. “You are so perfect too, you know that?” He mutters softly. “I’m so fucking glad you came with me.” He artfully grabbed your hand and looked at you intimately as he pressed a gentle kiss to your wrist—the one that was zip tied to his. The one where the bruise on it had now been fully healed and gone.

“Me too,” you murmur ardently.

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jennifer-jeong · 15 days

Note

Okay so first, I really love your LnD fics (patiently waiting for more of your amazing works) 🥹🫶 and hear me out...

Reader who is reincarnated as a Fae being and has been alive since. But the thing is, her wings had been clipped off (with the use of silver chains, meaning she's vulnerable against silver) for a century and is in Linkon city since she feels that part of her (her wings) are somewhere hidden in the city (Think of Maleficent live action ig where her wings were taken from her) and meets the guys and so on :)

HI ANON THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR ASK AND YOUR KIND WORDS FJDSKLAFJSDL;A I APPRECIATE IT SM!! TY FOR INTERACTING!! I’m so glad to hear you like my fics and I promise more are on the way hehehe please do request me again if you have more ideas!!

I hope I did your prompt justice! I definitely did think a lot about maleficent when writing this hehehehe

[Fluff + Angst] [Love and Deepspace Boys x Fae!Reader] Angel

CONTENT

Angst to fluff, gender neutral reader, mentions of violence, blood, trauma, torture, healing alongside them, mutual pining between you and the boys, happy and open ended endings! ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

Your wings were a pretty and pearly milky white. Your wings resembled those of high flying birds. They were thick enough to allow gliding and also strong enough to give you lots of control in the air. They were iridescent in the sun and carried you high in the bright sky. The air was thin but more refreshing up there. You played with clouds and soared through the endless blue. It was freedom. It made you feel alive, warm.

It was your gift, but unfortunately, it was on someone else’s wishlist.

You’d never been a spiteful being, nor had you ever hurt a fly. But when silver chains ripped your flesh and tore your muscle to take your wings, severing your very soul from your body. When they destroyed your forest, your home, your family, your heart. You swore to make them suffer.

You were powerful and hunting these fools down was nothing difficult for you. The problem was hunting without your wings, your best weapon.

The lack of mobility and being forced to fight on the ground made it so that you could maim the weak ones, but you could never reach the ones who profited off the suffering of you and your people.

Linkon city is where they were. You knew this. You could feel your wings there. You also knew that you’d need to hide, figure out who did what and how to get your damn wings back. It would take time, but time was all you had as a fae. You’d do whatever it took to make them pay.

It’d take years, but it was worth it.

2 years later and you’ve already made moves to apprehend (and torture) a few key figures, always leaving them in front of the police station when you were done. You still had so much good in you and it always prevented you from killing. But it made you seethe that they were filthy fucking rich from what they stole from your homeland. They sold your resources and displayed your bodies, your wings, like they were trophies. Life was still cold and depressing for you but you did manage to make some friends in Linkon. They’d even help you with your mission. You only trusted them with the information because they had similar goals.

XAVIER

Xavier was a local policeman you had met a few decades into your plot when you were hired to help with the case. He was coincidentally also investigating illegal hunters and black markets selling goods stolen from other civilizations such as yours. It was a big ring of crime and he was determined to end the atrocities that were being committed in it. Meeting you was just extra motivation on top of his already relentless drive for justice. You became investigative partners since you were both capable in combat and often investigated the same people anyways.

Xavier was kind, gentle, quiet, and stronger than he let on. He always worked without expectation of reward and you appreciated that. You just wanted justice and he wanted the same. It helped that he didn’t seek publicity because it would’ve made your life harder since you were probably wanted as a vigilante from before. Xavier taught you his philosophies and you realized you’d been consumed by your desire for revenge, unable to enjoy life outside of it. You admired him for his morals, so you learned from him, and it made you two grow closer. He was more than happy to help, it was so rewarding to see you slowly become your bubbly self that he guesses you lost a long time ago.

He had his suspicions that you might be fae. The man was smart but he played his cards carefully, he always held them close. He acted aloof with you and pretended to not constantly stare at the back of your shirt, trying to see if you had imprints of missing wings on your shoulder blades. He also figured that your motivation for wanting to crack these cases came from somewhere. If he also managed to figure out that you’d been behind some of the previous mysterious arrests, he’d turn a blind eye. He knew your actions weren’t crimes. He felt glad that you got them back for what they did to you and your people.

After a few years of planned raids and dozens of arrests, one of the recovered items from the warehouse was a beautiful pair of wings. Still buzzing with magic, craving to feel the wind again. You felt them when they were being transported to the police HQ. The surge of energy that continued to approach you made you hold your breath and bounce your leg out of pure anxiety. Xavier put a hand on your shoulder to try to calm you down. He’d already figured out what was going on just by looking at you. You didn’t need to say a word. It was something that slowly came naturally since you two spent so much time together. You smiled and he smiled warmly back. You were in the middle of panicking because Xavier was still touching you when you were presented with your missing soul, your wings. You requested to view the “evidence” privately with Xavier and wasted no time in feeling your delicate wings with your fingertips again.

Xavier stood behind you, his right hand found its way to your upper back. He finally traced the outlines of your cut wings. It made you gasp at first, but you trusted him. As he continued to feel them, you shivered. They were scars, they were more sensitive. He stepped to your side and you turned to partially face him, his hand sliding off of you. You looked into his eyes and your longstanding feelings for Xavier were making their presence known by heating up your face, flushing your cheeks. You swore you saw a slight tinge of red on the tips of his ears too. He spoke to you in his familiar voice that you loved so much. He decided to tease you slightly.

“I think I always knew that you’d have wings, you were too perfect to not be an angel.”

ZAYNE

Zayne was a surgeon you’d met one day when he treated your wounds since you collapsed outside the hospital. He discovered the scars where your wings used to sit on your back. You were high off the morphine when he checked your back for more injuries so you barely even realized.

He questioned you but not in the way you expected. You thought he wouldn’t know what they were or try to take advantage of you. But instead he asked what you knew about the hunters that took your wings. He already knew exactly what happened to you just by looking. He was involved in cracking down on research related to Fae and Lemurians since there were people trying to fuse their genetics with these races to gain their beneficial traits such as immortality.

He knew some things you didn’t know and vice versa. You both began working on this together, investigating research facilities, interrogating suspects, and fighting only when needed. You were unstoppable and the law didn’t plan to ask you to let up. You both hand delivered them collectors and shadowy figures that had hid from the police for so long. When you fought, Zayne could both heal and attack from afar while you rushed them head on. You were unafraid because you believed in your partner, your trust in Zayne only grew as the years went on.

Early on, Zayne encouraged you to let go of the spite, the revenge. You knew he was right when he said that they did not benefit you in this. He saw the rage in you and could see that it was hurting you, mentally and physically. You listened, you knew better. You stopped the relentless tortures and instead, let the collectors rot in jail, but not before you got in a few good punches. Zayne watched you slowly come out of your shell again, actually taking the time to enjoy the little things in life instead of being hyper focused on revenge. He’d be lying if he said you weren’t one of the most rewarding patients he’d ever had.

Working with your partner was definitely quite the rollercoaster. He was always so professional and mature but would also randomly tease you as if you were kids, albeit with a fully deadpan expression. Zayne was reserved and often came off as cold but he made you so warm. You knew he was an extremely compassionate and kind person under his exterior and you admired him for it. Zayne also adored you in the same way. You had gone through so much pain and suffering but you still smiled and shined like the sun.

Over time you adapted to live without your wings but after one specific raid on a collector’s mansion, you knew exactly what the collector’s prized possession was because it belonged to you. You could feel your wings. They still surged with energy and upon seeing them when you went to do follow up investigation, you immediately called to them. They flew towards you and you inspected them, almost not believing the scene in front of you. Zayne stayed close ready to support you, especially if you were to fuse with your wings again, he knew it’d be hard to keep them hidden and it’d just bring up so much previous trauma.

You turned to face him slowly, leaving your wings behind you. You hesitated. Not letting your wings fuse with you yet. Zayne looked into your eyes, trying to comfort you with his presence. After a few seconds, Zayne held out his hand, you took it. His skin was cold but somehow it made yours burn, the heat spreading through your body as your face warmed up. He spoke quietly to you, telling you to take your time. You closed your eyes and took deep breaths, your thumb slowly caressing the back of Zayne's hand as he did the same back.

Zayne had always been good at comforting you with his words, maybe it just came naturally since he was a doctor. Regardless, you knew it was exactly what you needed right now. You didn’t know what you’d do after you got your wings back. Would you go home? Would you continue this mission with Zayne? Would having your wings make it harder? Would it make it easier? You confided in Zayne as you spoke your thoughts out loud. Once you were done, you were overwhelmed and he could tell. He started his reply with a sentence that filled you with warmth, hope, and a little bit of giddiness. He speaks, teasing you a bit at the end, his face flushing.

“It doesn’t matter what you are or if you have the wings or not, you’re beautiful and you should follow your heart… especially if it’s here.”

RAFAYEL

Rafayel was a painter “looking for art or inspiration” that you met at an underground event where illegal goods were being sold, but you quickly figured out it was a front. Rafayel was a Lemurian, you sensed it immediately since you weren’t human. As a fae you had the ability to sense certain things, and so did Rafayel. Upon meeting each other at an art exhibition, you quickly exchanged information and agreed to meet up again the next day. You almost simultaneously revealed that you were both after the hunters that destroyed your homes when you finally got to chat alone.

The two of you start to frequent more underground events, both of you being well connected and hiding your true intentions very well. You use the events to gather information and then put your plans into action when your targets are alone. It worked amazingly well, you were both extremely skilled and efficient at what you did. It slowly chipped away at this network that shamelessly destroyed your beautiful homes.

Rafayel was a bit of a loose cannon. The man was so sweet and bashful one second and deadly serious the next. He was so gentle with you but didn’t hesitate when there was business that needed to be done. He could easily switch it on and off too. You were just glad you were on his side of this war.

Both you and Rafayel were out for revenge but something about your partnership changed you two. You both slowly helped each other heal, confiding your worries and traumas in each other. You were still both ruthless when it came to apprehending the people who did you wrong but the tortures stopped and the warmth returned outside of the violence. You two actually started to make good memories and live life instead of just trying to survive. You’d often watch the sunset over the ocean together, it was peaceful and you’d chat about anything and everything.

Eventually, after dozens of raids and missions, Rafayel finds weapons that used to belong to his family at the same time you find your wings again. You kept quiet until the mission was done, knowing you could feel your wings but not wanting to startle Rafayel. You looked at the weapons with him, you put your hand on his back to show your support for him. His eyes stayed glued on the knives and his face was a painful melancholic expression. You rubbed circles into his upper back with your thumb, hoping it could ease some of the pain caused by resurfacing memories.

After ensuring that the weapons would be sent to his personal studio, he continues to explore the mansion with you, following you while you find your wings. You communicated to him about your wings and he knew this would be tough for you too but you were both glad you had each other in this moment.

When you saw your wings in a display case at the end of one of the hallways, you bit back tears. It was a lot to take in. You passed millions of dollars worth of paintings to reach the most priceless thing in this whole building. Rafayel lags slightly behind you, wanting to give you a moment. You turn to face him, telling him that you don’t know if you want the wings back or not. Would they make you complete again? They can’t bring anyone back, can’t take away the pain. You couldn’t hide them like Rafayel could hide his true form, would it be a nuisance?

Rafayel makes his way towards you as you ramble, clearly distressed. He quickly envelopes you in a hug, letting you cry lightly into his chest, a painting of Lucifer on the wall next to you. You stay like that for a while. When he finally pulls back, he cups your face with his hands. You were his fallen angel, he wasn’t always great with his words but he truly spoke from the heart when comforting you like this.

“You never needed these wings to be complete, you’re ethereal with or without them. You’ll always be my angel, no matter what.”

Thank you for reading!

|| MASTERLIST<3 ||

#love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader #xavier x reader #xavier fluff #xavier angst #zayne x reader #zayne fluff #zayne angst #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #rafayel angst #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace angst #lads fluff #l&ds fluff #j's silly ramblings

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gojoidyll · 4 months

Text

I love Wrio too!! And thanks for requesting!! I didn't know that someone wanted a part 2 to this little angst oneshot XD

I hope you enjoy! <33

Just Being Nice Pt. 2

Pt. 1 can be found here.

Wriothesley x Reader / Neuvillette x Reader

Warnings | angst with comfort, use of "y/n"

Wriothesley knew, deep down, that what he had with Lumine wouldn't last. Especially once she got done with her business in Fontaine. The breakup between them was quick, to say the least. Though, Lumine did offer to let him join her. To have Wriothesley travel with her and help her find her brother. The offer, at first, was tempting, but he knew his place was in Fontaine. He knew his place was with the Fortress of Meropide.

Not to mention that the thought of leaving ... hurt for some reason. He couldn't quite place the feeling.

Whatever that feeling was.

So he tried to ignore the ache in his heart by delving more into his work. Everyone seemed to take notice how he took less and less breaks throughout the days that passed. Though, most did seem to see how he would relax just a little when you would come by with reports.

Everyone knew who you were. You worked as Neuvillette's second in command and were always tasked with giving and receiving reports to and from Wriothesley. It was how the the chief justice and the duke kept in touch with each other.

And Sigewinne took an immediate notice how Wriothesley started to count the days that you would show up over the next few months ever since the traveler left. It was cute.

"Has y/n ... shown up yet?"

It was a question that he found himself frequently asking, and at first he didn't know why. Well, until he went up to the surface one day for a 'personal day' as Sigewinne liked to call it.

The sun was bright, it made his eyes squint and try to adjust. The air felt too fresh, the breeze too cool. He started to miss the darkness the Fortress provided.

And as he was walking around, people avoiding him and him avoiding people, he came across a small patch of rainbow roses. They were pretty. And instead of thinking of Lumine. He thought of someone else. He thought of you.

His heart clenched at the mere thought of you. Made his breathing hitch and his eyes to sting.

Oh, archons. He knew what this feeling was. Over these past few months, he fell for you. Despite rejecting you all that time ago, you never once brought your personal life to work. You were professional, independent, and you never let your weakness show. Wriothesley liked that about you, and as you would visit him for work, it was only a matter of time before he felt the same way about you as you had about him.

But .. did you even feel that way- do you still love him?

"Your Grace?"

He heard your voice immediately, and he couldn't deny the pain he felt when you didn't call him by his name as he had asked you to when he first met you all that time ago.

Not to mention that it surprised him slightly to hear your voice here of all places. Out in the open, with bystanders walking past.

"Oh, y/n. I didn't know you would be here," he said as he turned to look at you, and he couldn't stop his the way his breath caught in his throat. You were all dolled up. You looked so pretty. The clothes you were wearing were way different from the usual work attire he saw you in.

You smiled, "the same can be said for you. It's unusual to see the great duke of the Fortress to be out and about like this."

He noted how your smile seemed happier. He was glad that you were starting to be your usual self again even if he wasn't the one to make you feel this way.

"Well, what can I say, Sigewinne has been continuously telling me to take a personal day, so here I am. And how about you? Are you also taking a personal day?"

You could immediately feel the way your face grew hot, the tips of your ears feeling as if they are on fire, "you could say that... I'm actually spending my off day with someone..."

"Oh?"

"Yeah... I'm-," you seemed to gather any courage you had within yourself and took a breath, "I'm on a date."

"A...date?"

He felt his ears start to ring as if someone had punched his lights out in boxing cage. His heart seeming to thump loud in his chest.

He opened his mouth to ask who you were on a date with, but his unanswered question was soon answered.

"Ah, there you are y/n."

A gentle hand patted your arm before sliding into your palm, your fingers intertwining with his own.

"Neuvillette, you're right on time."

"As always, y/n."

As always, Wriothesley thought, that means they went on more than one date.

"Wriothesley. It's odd to see you here."

He chuckled a bit and decided to hide his pain, "it seems it's odd to see any of us here since we three are usually known for being at our desks and hard at work. Anyway, I hope you two will enjoy your date, so if you'll excuse me."

He gave them a nod before turning to leave.

"See you at work tomorrow, Wriothesley!"

He smiled as he turned to wave at you, at least you called him by his name this time.

And even though he regrets not reciprocating your feelings all those months ago and foolishly being with someone who he knew was going to leave him one day to look for her brother ... he was also happy to see that bright smile on your face.

"Are you alright, y/n?"

You leaned your head against Neuvillette's shoulder, eyes trained on Wriothesley's retreating figure, "yeah, I saw him standing here all alone, so I was just being nice and decided to talk to him was all. Besides, I promise I'm ok. I'm with you now, remember?"

You stood on your tippy-toes and placed a gentle kiss to Neuvillette's jawline since you weren't quite able to reach his cheek.

Neuvillette was at a loss for words by your declaration, but seeing as how it didn't rain for the coming weeks - it was safe to say you had a positive impact on his life.

#genshin impact #genshin #neuvillette x you #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x y/n #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley #genshin angst

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random0lover · 1 year

Note

Hello !! Am I allowed to request for maybe all of 141 (If possible with your schedule !! I undestand if its not !!) or just Price and Ghost (separate) with a reader whos a military kid so theyre kinda just used to them going away for long periods of time with deployment. Bonus points if they werent aware of reader being a military kid till they break down and confess as to how abandoned and angry they feel when they leave :,)) Fluffy Hurt/Comfort thats SFW, please :)) Thank you ^^

TF141 x Gn!Reader That Was a Military Kid

Pairings: John Price x gn!reader & Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x gn!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst with Comfort, SFW, reader is mean, talk of parental death, crying, reader is called: sweetheart, love, dove. Hints at depression, John and Simon are both big softies for reader, established relationships. That should be it! Let me know if I missed any <3

Things to know: Some hc’s with mini fic parts. Should be Gn!reader as I tried to avoid talking about readers body or anything that could indicate anything other than gn!reader! Also POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.

Notes: Thank you for requesting this anon! I loved the idea so much so I hope this does your request justice! I kinda went a little soft with the Price one because for some reason I can’t stand the thought of reader being mean to that sweet man (if you want though send me another request and I can write one that’s more angst filled 😊) although I did bring out the reader being angry in Simons. Another thing, I wrote this for Simon and not ghost but if you want I can write another one that has reader dealing with Ghost but be warned it will be angsty with lots of hurt from both parties! Sorry if the editing is bad I did try though lol and there will be more parts to this!

Tags: @homicidal-slvt (promised I’d tag you so here we are)

Price & Simon (You’re here!), Soap & Gaz, Alejandro, Rudy & König

(I will add the links as I post each part!)

John Price

-I feel like he may have wondered if you were a military kid since you didn’t seem to be phased by him having to leave so often

-There were other things that also made him wonder, like how you always made your bed in the mornings, how schedules were majorly important to you to the point that if you knew you were going to be late, you'd get majorly upset, and how you also seemed to understand military lingo up to a certain point. He never asked though since you didn’t talk about your childhood much so he just figured that if you wanted to tell him that you would -But he started to notice that lately, you started to seem off when you found out he would have to be deployed soon.

John had been awake since the early hours of the morning. He couldn't seem to get much sleep in the few days before his next deployment. He had left the warmth of your shared bed before even the morning birds could be heard outside, hoping not to wake you with his restlessness, but little did he know that you hadn't slept at all.

By the time you stumbled out of bed with bags under your eyes and your mind feeling exhausted from the lack of sleep and your own brain tearing itself apart, it was well past 10 a.m., which wasn’t the most unusual for you, but on the day before John would be deploying it was a little odd since usually you were up trying to help him get his stuff together and would make a huge breakfast since you both weren’t sure how long it would be until he would get to enjoy a home-cooked meal again.

You had hoped to get to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of coffee before seeing John, but he was standing at the fridge, putting groceries away from multiple brown paper bags.

You made your way to the coffee pot that seemed to have a fresh pot being made and got a cup from the cabinet before he started to talk, “I noticed we were getting low on some things so I thought I’d save you a trip to—,” he pauses, causing you to turn to face him, “Sweetheart?”

You were pressing your hands into your eyes, trying to relieve the aching pressure that was remaining consistent behind them, when he made his way across the kitchen and gently cupped your cheeks, “Are you feeling alright, love?”

You didn’t mean to do it, but you flinched away from his hands, taking a few steps back so that there was some distance between you both. You could see the hurt in his eyes before they were overcome with confusion and you hated that he was looking at you as if you were a skittish kitten that would run at the smallest movement.

He reaches an arm out slowly, as if to not startle you.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, pulling your arms tight around you, and try to focus on keeping your breathing calm, like your parents taught you when you were little.

He takes a small step forward so that his fingers are almost grazing your arm but stops when sees you curling in on yourself, “Sweetheart, something is obviously wrong. You're crying, and your body is shaking.”

“Hey,” you finally look up into his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but at least let me help you.”

Your heart breaks from the pain you can see in his eyes. In all the time you've been together, you’ve never pulled away from him like this. Usually, you were the one open about your emotions and what you were feeling while having to coax John into telling you what was going on in his mind, “Please, darling.”

You let yourself fall into his open arms at that point, sobbing into his neck. He presses you against his chest, gently speaking into your ear, assuring you that everything is fine, that he is here for you, and that he will always be there.

You mumble into his neck, causing him to gently pull you back so that he can hear you: “What was that, sweetheart?”

You try to concentrate on the sensation of his calm heartbeat against your chest before finally saying, "My parents promised me the same thing."

He pulls away, puzzled, and you notice him looking at you in the corner of your eye, so you burrow your face into his chest and say, "They were both military. They died when I was 14," you finish, taking a deep breath. “They were deployed together when it happened… They said that it was an accident, that my mom got stuck on a timed land mine, and my dad wouldn’t leave her no matter what.”

"Oh, love." You feel his body tense before relaxing.

He gently grips the back of your neck and pulls you back so that you're looking into his eyes; the softness in them is almost enough to send you running as far as possible so that you never have to feel the type of pain that you did the day that you found out your parents died.

“Love, I'm not going anywhere,” you go to speak but he shushes you, “You are my world, the person I’m fighting for.”

He brings his hand under your chin so that he is gripping it gently and says, “You are the reason I’m still alive. The reason why I feel like life is still worth living and fighting for.”

He tips his head down so that his lips are grazing yours, “I’ll always come home, love.”

You push forward so that your lips are fully pressing against his, then he pulls back, “Why don’t we go take a bath, get you feeling better?”

~~~~

The next morning you wake frantically looking around, hoping that he didn’t leave without saying goodbye, when he walks in carrying a tray of food, “John? I thought you had to leave this morning.”

He smiles gently, his eyes lighting up, “Called Kate, they don’t actually need me for another week, and I figured my love needs me a little bit more than my job at the moment.” He sets the tray down on the bed, and you jump into his arms with a happy squeal, “I love you, John.”

"I love you too, sweetheart," he says as he gently kisses you.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley

-So we all know Simon is amazing at reading people, but I don’t think he would know that you were a military kid. He could see all the signs that you may have had a difficult childhood, but he personally knows what it’s like to have a childhood you don’t want to talk about, so he never has and never will question you about your past. -Pasts are a hard topic for Simon in the first place, so I could honestly see him being a bit grateful that you didn’t share the bad parts of your childhood, meaning that he also didn’t have to share his. It was almost a silent agreement between you both to not talk about the negative parts of things unless one of you came to the other wanting to talk about it.

~~~~

Back to him being great at reading people: He could tell that over the past few days, your body language had been changing, becoming more standoffish. Not being as open to cuddling and kisses, not even wanting him to walk up behind you and wrap his arms around you, which you usually loved.

He figured that maybe you were just having a few rough days, which was normal for anyone; hell, he knew he had them quite often, and you were always there for him no matter how bad they got, so he wanted to do the same for you.

Today had been the worst day of all, though. You were almost refusing to talk to him completely unless it was one-word answers, which he was able to roll with pretty easily. You would move rooms almost every time he would come in, not even saying anything, just picking up your things and going.

This made him decide on leaving you alone for the most part, other than when he would bring you a fresh cup of tea or was just checking in on you. So he decided on cleaning up the house a little bit, he was going to be deploying again in a week and he wanted to help however he could, knowing that it was a rough transition from having him around to it being an empty house again.

He had just finished cleaning the dishes when he looked at the time and decided on ordering out for dinner, which would hopefully raise your mood a bit and it would also be an easy enough mess to clean up. He found you in the living room watching a movie on Netflix with a blanket wrapped tightly around you and stood in the doorway for a moment just admiring you when you paused it.

When you snap at him, "What do you want, Simon?" Your eyes aren't even on him but on your phone, which is on your lap.

He feels his eye twitch but he keeps himself calm and makes sure that it shows in his tone that your attitude is leaving him unaffected, “I was just goin’ to ask what you wanted for takeout, love.”

You huff and try to pull yourself up from the couch while also trying to unwrap the blanket from around you, almost falling, but Simon rushes forward and straightens you up, but you quickly pull away.

You look at him with fury in your eyes, “Can't you just leave me the hell alone?” Your voice is rising slightly, and your face is flushed with rage. “It’s what you constantly do anyway!”

You can see Simon's eyes widen, but you don't care; the words are just spilling out of your mouth before you can stop them, "You're never actually here when I need you, but when you are, you can't take the fucking hint of when I just want you to leave me alone!"

"Sometimes Simon," you pause, feeling the tears flood into your vision, making the floor blurry, "I wonder why I even stay when you are just going to end up hurting me exactly like he did," you whisper, staring hard at the ground, your chest puffing in and out quickly, trying to pull in air after your large outburst.

The words come out in a whisper, the room becoming so silent that you can almost hear the gears in his head turning, wondering who the hell you were talking about.

You hear him take a step forward on the wood flooring, his voice incredibly soft, “Dove.”

You look up through the tears and see his hands reaching out for you, and for the first time in all the time you two have been together, Simon Riley almost looks scared—not scared of you but as if his world was coming apart.

When his hand gently touches your arm, it pulls you out of your stupor, making you pull away, frantically shaking your head, “Don’t touch me.”

The words come out shaky and broken, but they make him freeze nonetheless, and you can see in his eyes that he’s trying to pull himself together, trying to figure out what he's supposed to do in a situation like this.

He takes a small step back, his gaze fixed on yours, and he holds his hands out in front of him, as if to demonstrate that he is not a threat. "Okay, I won't touch you." He comes to a halt, seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of a frightened animal ready to flee at any moment. "It's okay, love, everything's fine-"

He doesn't even finish his sentence before you're flying down the hallway, grabbing your bag from the hooks by the front door and bolting out the door, slamming it loudly behind you, leaving him standing halfway down the hallway, his mouth slack-jawed, unsure of what the hell just happened.

~~~

After nearly ten minutes of fast walking, you finally slowed down and stopped in the nearest store to clean your face of tear marks and, hopefully, make yourself look presentable. You sent a quick text to Simon, letting him know that you were safe and that you didn't know when you'd be back. You left your phone on long enough to see him read the message and the text bubble pop up before you shut the phone completely off and tucked it into the bottom of your bag.

You spent the next two hours wandering aimlessly, wondering if you'd just ruined your relationship with the only man you'll ever love, when you came across the small Italian restaurant where Simon had taken you on your first date. You remember the way you tried to pay for your half of the dinner, but he quickly slipped his card to the waitress before you could even argue, saying something about how if you decided not to go on a second date with him, you deserved to at least get a free meal from it, and you teased him by asking him if there was a reason you shouldn't want to go on another date with him.

The memories make your stomach queasy, making you want to kick yourself in the back for being so stupid, but you walk in and order your and Simon's favorite dishes and try to keep the food as warm as possible on your walk back to your shared home. One side of you hopes you’ll find him there, not an empty house, and the other side wants to avoid this conversation for as long as possible.

You walk up the steps, and most of the house seems to be dark except for the living room, where a single light is on. You unlock the door and try as quietly as possible to slip your shoes off while also trying not to drop the food.

You make your way towards the living room to find Simon sitting on the couch, his elbows on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. You look over to the coffee table and see bags with your favorite restaurant's logo tied off, trying to keep the heat in the bags, making your heart ache with the fact that he still thought of you after you treated him like complete trash.

He was the first man ever to treat you with so much love. Even while he was deployed, he was making efforts to show you that he cared, like scheduling a delivery of your favorite flowers to show up on your day off with a little note, paying for over a month's worth of your order at your favorite coffee shop, and bringing back little trinkets from the places he was deployed too.

You knew him being deployed wasn’t his fault; it was part of his job. You knew he wasn't your dad and that it wasn't Simon’s fault that the man who was supposed to love you treated you as if you weren't even his child but rather just another one of his soldiers.

It wasn’t his fault that your dad wouldn't be home for months on end; it wasn’t his fault that the last time you ever saw your dad, you told him you hated him for never being home; it wasn't his fault that the day your dad was supposed to come home from a four-month deployment, instead of hearing him come home, there were four hard knocks on the door; it wasn't his fault that two soldiers were standing at the door; it wasn’t his fault that they were holding a folded-up flag with your dad’s military dog tags on them.

It. Wasn’t. His. Fault.

Yet you treated him as if it were. You didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't already know about what happened to your dad or the fact that you wished he did so that he could have a reason to hate you for lashing out.

You step into the room, setting the food you got by the food he ordered. “Simon?”

He doesn’t move for a second, then he looks up at you, and you feel your heart shatter for the umpteenth time tonight. “Oh, Simon,” you whisper, moving so that you’re standing in front of him and drop down onto your knees, “I am so fucking sorry. I don't even have the words to tell you how sorry I am. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you… I should’ve just talked to you instead of letting it build up.”

You move your hands up to gently cradle his face in both your hands and connect your eyes with his molten ones, which usually provided you with comfort. Now, though, all you can see is the look he gave you after you yelled at him, “I— I never should have let my feelings bottle up about me being upset about you having to be gone. I know it's not your fault. I knew what I was getting myself into when we made things official all those years ago. I knew what your job would bring before then; I made the choice to be with you. I'll never regret that.’’

You move your eyes across his face, trying to gauge his emotions, but you get nothing.

“Si, baby?” you whisper.

His eyes move away from you. “Who were you talking about when you said I'm just going to hurt you like he did?’’

You look away, your eyes settling on a loose string on his pants. “I was talking about my dad.” You take a deep breath before continuing, knowing that you have to tell him, “H– He was military like you.”

His hand reaches out to gently lift your chin, bringing your gaze to his. “He died,” you continue, “He died and the last time I ever saw him, I told him I hated him because he was always gone. He…I let him go that day without saying goodbye or telling him I loved him, and the next time I saw him, his body was in a casket."

"Love," he says with a gentle frown.

"No, Simon," you say, shaking your head. Just because I’m scared—no, fucking terrified—of that happening again with you doesn't give me the right to treat you that way. I am so sorry.”

He leans back in the couch and pulls you up into his lap; once you're comfortable, he brings his hands up so that one is cupping your cheek and the other trails down your arm to hold your hand. "Dove, I know what it's like to lose family. I know what it can do to you. I understand that pain more than you know. Pain like that is unlike anything else.”

Tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away quickly before they fall. "You've lost family, too?"

He nods gently, and you can see deep emotions that seemed to have been buried for a long time beginning to surface. “My mum, my younger brother Tommy, and his wife Beth.” He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, they are filled with unshed tears. “My nephew Joseph.”

You can feel the back of your throat starting to burn from keeping your tears in, but you push your forehead against his anyway. “Simon.”

He looks into your eyes before whispering, “I wish I could tell you it would stop hurting eventually, but I can’t. I’m not going to lie to you and say I’ll always make it back home to you; that's not something I can guarantee, but one thing I can promise is that I will always try my damn hardest to make it back. I will always fight with everything in my soul to make it back to you.”

Tears are softly running down your face at this point, falling to land on Simon’s hoodie. “I love you so much, sweets. I never want to lose you.”

You let out a choked cry before you kissed him gingerly, and you could taste the saltiness of your tears mixed in with all the flavors that reminded you of Simon. Of home.

“I love you so much too, Si.”

He leans in to kiss you again with a light press of his lips to yours before he pulls away and looks at the forgotten food on the coffee table and lets out a light chuckle, “I see we both had the same idea.”

You let out a shaky laugh and nod your head before snuggling your head into the warm crook of his neck. He runs a large hand up and down your back, slowly stopping at the bottom to rub gentle circles into a spot that usually bothers you. "Well, why don’t we eat, and maybe in the morning we can talk a little bit more.”

Yawning into his neck, you pull back and ask, “Can we finish the movie I was watching earlier? It was just getting to the good part before I stopped it.”

He nods, and you excitedly get out of his lap to get your blanket and the TV remote before he pulls the coffee table closer to the couch so that he can start opening the containers. Once you start the movie, you look over to Simon to find him already watching you with a soft look, and all you can think is how thankful you are to have found a man who loves you through all your faults and you through his.

You were grateful for ever getting the chance to be loved by Simon Riley, a man who truly believed that he couldn’t love and that he wasn’t worth loving. You knew that it would probably take your whole lives to heal from the things you've both been through, but as long as you were together, that was all that mattered.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed this hc for Price and Simon! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. <3

Requests are open so feel free to send in some! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

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clu-ven · 1 year

Note

Heyaa , I hope you're taking good care of yourself before answering any of the asks! Make sure to stay hydrated always 😄

I have a small request for the bad batch (mainly Hunter). How would they react to a reader that is the mom friend ? Bonus points if she has a REALLY short pixie cut (hair almost buzzed).

I'm usually the mom friend and I'm really curious regarding this , if you feel comfy enough writing about it , headcanons , maybe even small fics of it? 💛

THE BATCH BAD WITH A READER WHO'S THE 'MOM FRIEND'

quick note: eeeek thank you for the request anon! But I'll be honest, I had no idea what a 'mom friend' was before this so I hope I did it justice! Also, because I spent so much time trying to figure out the characteristics of a mom friend (Have I overthought this? why yes, yes I have), I didn't touch on the short hair aspect but I can always do headcanons specifically for that if you'd like!

word count: 3.1k

HUNTER

Hunter isn’t sure what to make of you at first. Before you came along, he assumed if someone was nice to the Batch, it was because they wanted something from them.

But not you.

You genuinely care about them and their safety. It’s unlike anything Hunter has ever experienced and honestly, it’s a little unsettling at the beginning. He doesn’t understand why you put so much effort into befriending a bunch of defective clones.

He’s cagey but once some time passes and he realises you genuinely care and this isn’t some façade, Hunter relaxes and embraces your role as the mom friend.

Hunter’s actually kinda relieved to have you around now. He’s still unsure if he can look after Omega properly but having you there to confide in is a big help.

And although Hunter will always try his best to act tough and unfazed by things, he appreciates your keen eye and how you can always spot whenever he’s feeling overwhelmed.

...and now, a quick drabble...

Hunter’s been staring at the datapad for twenty minutes, hand pinching the bridge of his nose as he sighs to himself. In the two seats in front of him, Tech and Echo loudly bicker about whether the last mission was a trap or simply bad timing, and in the seat adjacent to Hunter, Wrecker flings Omega up into the air before catching her again… a routine they’ve been doing ever since the Marauder went into hyperspace.

The mixture of Tech and Echo’s squabbling, Wrecker’s booming laugh and Omega’s squeal everytime she’s hoisted into the air is a recipe for disaster for the Sergeant.

Picking up some spare blankets you spontaneously bought on the last planet you visited, you call out to Hunter. His head snaps up, though the second he sees you, his expression softens. “Can you bring these to the bunks for me? You can just leave them at the end of each one” you ask sheepishly.

With a sharp nod, he stands and with a few strides, Hunter is in front of you and taking the blankets. Lowering your voice so just he can hear, you say “Take all the time you need, I’ll get them to calm down… eventually”. A flicker of shock spreads across his face, surprised that not only did you notice his agitated demeanour but that you knew exactly what was causing it.

Opening his mouth, Hunter wants to thank you, to put his hand on your shoulder and tell you how much this means to him but Omega lets out another shriek and he tenses.

Giving him a reassuring smile, you walk past Hunter and to the others. As Hunter makes his way to a quieter part of the ship, he can hear you trying to change the topic of conversation with Echo and Tech, hoping that’ll put an end to their bickering before offering Wrecker and Omega some spare Mantell Mix you had in an attempt to distract them from their noisy game.

With a smile on his face, Hunter crashes on to his bunk, blankets covering his head as he wonders how he got so lucky to meet you.

TECH

Much like Hunter, Tech is dubious of you at first. You’re so quick to help them, to listen to their problems and care for them. Before this, the only other entity that’s ever aided the Batch is the Republic and well, we all know how that turned out.

Don’t be surprised if he ends up interrogating you, asking you a barrage of questions regarding what you hope to get out of this.

Kindness isn’t something they’ve come across recently so Tech’s sceptical of you.

But once Tech sees how you act around not only them but everyone else, he starts to understand that you’re simply caring by nature and not trying to scam them.

Before you came along, Tech would usually stay up working until he fell asleep hunched over a table or else he would opt to not sleep at all.

But now with you here, he knows it’s only a matter of time before you come along and usher him off to bed. At first, Tech thought this was annoying and a hindrance to his work but he gets used to it pretty quickly, finding it comforting that you always make sure he gets some rest.

...and now, another quick drabble...

It’s another late night for Tech. He doesn’t mind it, preferring to work in near silence (besides some snoring coming from the other room). Working on a few adjustments to his helmet, Tech’s eyes flick between his armour and datapad, taking the time to simultaneously catch up on what the Empire has been up to recently. He’s not sure what time it is but judging by the deep sleep everyone seems to be in, he’s presuming he has another few hours until anyone wakes up.

When he hears some movement from the other room, Tech freezes for a second before relaxing once you come into view, a steaming cup in your hands. “You should be asleep” you whisper, tiptoeing closer to him.

“So should you” he replies without missing a beat, resuming his work on his helmet. You sigh, setting the cup down on the desk. Peering over at the warm liquid, Tech questions “Caf?”.

“Tea,” you correct him “you can take it to bed with you, it should help you sleep”.

Tech doesn’t move, giving you a look that reads ‘seriously?’. Putting your hands on your hips, you bluntly state “You need to rest”.

“So do you” he quickly replies. You sigh. Sometimes you forget how stubborn he can be.

“Well, I’ve actually gotten some sleep,” you shrug “and Echo’s supposed to be watching the ship while we’re in hyperspeed but he’s fast asleep so I’ll take watch instead”.

“That’s unnecessary, I’ll watch the ship and you can go back to bed“ Tech proposes but you fold your arms, shaking your head.

“No, you need sleep” you try your best to sound stern but it’s hard to act mad at Tech, especially when he’s trying to help.

He goes to speak again but you sigh, giving him a pleading look as you say “Tech, please… if you don’t sleep now then you’ll be overtired tomorrow and you won’t be able to think straight on our next mission and kriff, if you can’t think straight on a mission then we’re all screwed”.

Slowly, Tech rises from his seat “You have a point”.

Picking up the tea, he gives you a wearily smile, suddenly feeling self-conscious over his stubbornness. “Thank you… for looking out for us, you’re caring nature isn’t something we’re used to” Tech tries to make eye contact with you as he speaks but he finds it hard, his face becoming flustered with his small confession.

Returning the smile, you reassure him “Don’t worry about it, now go get some rest, you deserve it”.

WRECKER

Even in a galaxy full of backstabbers and criminals, Wrecker likes to see the good in people so he trusts you and takes your kindness at face value.

He quickly becomes attached to you, relishing in your caring nature and becoming very protective of you. You’re a breath of fresh air to Wrecker so Maker help anyone who tries to mess you with.

Wrecker knows how rare it is to find someone so gentle and caring and now that you’re here, he doesn’t want to let you go.

Despite Wrecker being much larger and stronger than you, you make him feel safe and protected.

Although, Wrecker can be mischievous sometimes. He has no problem dragging you into an argument if he knows he’s losing, knowing you’ll put a stop to the bickering completely and he won’t ‘officially’ lose the argument.

He may have threatened his brothers a few times with the dreaded “I’m telling”. You’re respected by all of the Batch so the thought of getting into your bad books is enough to make them shut up and leave Wrecker be for a while.

...yet another quick drabble...

Boarding the ship, Wrecker calls out your name, hand on his head as he enters. You immediately look in his direction, getting up from your seat and making your way over to him with a concerned look on your face.

Before you can even ask what’s wrong, Wrecker groans “I hit my head… again”. Reaching up to get a better look at his injury, you gently touch his jawline as you examine the side of his head. Thankfully there’s no open wound and hopefully the pain won’t last long.

“Do you need some food?” you ask, making Wrecker’s demeanour perk up ”You go rest, I’ll get you some blankets and a cup of water and-“.

Hunter cuts you off, boarding the Marauder next “He’s fine, he can do that himself”. Although you know Hunter is only saying this to make sure you’re good hearted nature isn’t being taken advantage of, you roll your eyes.

“No he can’t, he’s injured!” you declare, removing your hand from Wrecker’s jawline and instead opting to rub his back. “Yeah, Hunter, I’m injured!” Wrecker repeats, his tone mimicking yours.

Not wanting a fight to break out, you glance over to Wrecker, giving him an unimpressed look. After seeing your expression, he goes back to groaning and holding his head. It’s pretty obvious Wrecker’s exaggerating this injury but you decide to play along, knowing he just needs some attention.

“Oh c’mon, he didn’t even complain about his head until he saw the Marau-“ Hunter scoffs but Wrecker interjects with another low whine, turning his attention to you as he speaks over the Sergeant “I think it’s getting worse, all this talking is many my head throb”.

With a soft smile, you reply “Why don’t you go lay down, hm? I’ll follow you in a second, just let me go get some snacks for you first”.

Although Wrecker tries to keep up his exaggeration, he can’t hide his smile. Giving you a nod, he turns to head towards the bunks, making sure to give Hunter a smug look as he passes. “Wha- please tell me you saw that” Hunter runs his hand down his face.

You let out a small laugh, making sure you speak loud enough for Wrecker to hear as you give Hunter a wink “Hey be nice to your brother, he’s hurt enough as it is and he doesn’t need you making his headache worse”. Hunter rolls his eyes but doesn’t intervene anymore.

Once you’ve collected all of your snacks, as well as getting some drinks ready and picking up a holomovie, you follow Wrecker into the bunks, excited for the relaxing night ahead.

ECHO

Echo can be kind of distant with you sometimes. It’s not that he doesn’t like your caring tendencies but he doesn’t want to depend on you, scared it might seem like he isn’t able to do things himself.

He wants to help the Batch too and before you came along, he was seen as the responsible and very tired parental figure of the group.

So while he’s hesitant to let you mother him, he’s always there to take care of the others with you. You two are the parents of the group and honestly, you’re the best duo for it.

Echo has some walls up, hesitant of the roles being swapped and him becoming the one being cared for… but with some time, those walls will start to drop.

But until then, he’ll be your teammate. The both of you working together to take care of and worry about the others.

Seriously, it’s scary how similar you and Echo think sometimes. Whether that be packing extra supplies or remembering how each member likes to have their caf.

...you guessed it, it's quick drabble time...

It’s always hard when the batch gets split up, one half staying while the others go on a mission. What makes it harder is that you’re on the side that has been told to stay put.

According to Cid, it’s an easy job that doesn’t require that many people and that you should be happy you get some time to relax while Hunter and Echo go on the mission. But your mind doesn’t see it like that.

While the other’s hang back at Cid’s parlour, you walk with the other two back to the ship so you can properly see them off. “Have you got extra bacta patches on board?” you quiz Echo while Hunter picks up his pace, deciding it’s best to leave the parents of the group discuss supplies.

“Yes, we do” Echo nods.

“And bandages?” you question, nervously nibbling at your bottom lip “Cid didn’t really give us a lot of information on this job so it’s best to be prepared for anything”.

With the Marauder close by, Echo stops and places his hand on your shoulder, making you stop too. “It’s going to be fine,” he says, his voice calm and comforting “we’re transporting nerf nuggets, even I don’t think much can go wrong with that”.

You sigh, knowing Echo’s right but still feeling anxious “Ok but be-“.

“Careful?” He raises an eyebrow at you, a cheeky glint in his eye.

You roll your eyes, already well aware of how predictable you can be. “Yes but seriously, keep an-“

“Eye out for troopers” he finishes your sentence again, letting his hand drop from your shoulder as he begins to climb the steps up to the Marauder.

“Ugh, fine, point proven,” you shake your head before remembering “oh and keep your-“

“Comm on in case of emergencies” this time Echo doesn’t even glance back at you when he says it, only stopping to look at you once he’s safely inside the door to the ship, revealing his mischievous grin.

Before closing the doors, Echo bids you a proper goodbye “I’ll see-“

“You soon?” You quickly interject, making Echo’s grin grow wider. As the steps to the Marauder begin to disappear into the ship’s mechanics and the door loudly starts to close, Echo calls out over the noise “You took the words out of my mouth!”.

CROSSHAIR

Crosshair has convinced himself he doesn’t need your help, your compassion or your company. Yet no matter how many times he tries to push you away or rebuff your kindness, you continue to be there for him.

Basically, you’re a complete enigma to him.

Crosshair’s kinda like a stray cat, subtly curious of you but too wary to accept your affections. Instead, he likes to simply watch your interactions with the others, slowly warming up to the idea of you also caring for him in the same way.

The one thing you do that is guaranteed to always make him smile is scold the others. You don’t do it too often but sometimes it’s necessary, especially when they fight over petty things.

Crosshair is always by your side then, arms folded as he enjoys the entertainment of it all. And if things start to calm down, he makes sure to say a comment or two just to rile the others back up again.

But if he’s in an argument and you walk in? He knows better than to continue, usually rolling his eyes before stalking off to spend some time alone.

...quick drabble time: Crosshair edition...

Despite the mission being a success, it ended in another argument. You luckily missed the start of this argument, so you aren’t sure who’s done what or who’s angry at who but from the glares Crosshair and Hunter keep giving each other, you can make a few assumptions.

You just arrive to the argument when it ends, catching the tail end of it as Crosshair storms past you, muttering something about loyalty.

Once Crosshair is out of earshot, the rest of the batch let out a collective sigh, equally annoyed and disheartened by the argument. “Do I even want to know what this is about?” you ask and judging by the look on Echo’s face, no, you don’t. Taking a deep breath, you turn on your feet, now facing the direction Crosshair stormed off in “I’ll go speak to him”.

It doesn’t take you long to find him, sitting on top of one of the large crates the Batch has been tasked with collecting and transporting back to base. He doesn’t look up when you approach, keeping his attention on the dirt staining his gloves. Hopping up beside Crosshair, you wait for him to speak.

“If you’re here to make me apologise, you’re wasting your time” he hisses.

You shake your head “I’m not here to do that, I just thought I’d keep you company”.

“I don’t need your company,” he snaps back.

You don’t reply. Whenever Crosshair gets into one of his moods, you understand he pushes people away and so you don’t take what he says to heart.

Trying to shift the topic of conversation, you put your hand into your pocket. “Y’know the last time we were in Coruscant, I went to this place called Dex’s Diner. I heard some Regs talking about it so I thought I’d check it out,” you start, causing Crosshair to roll his eyes “the food was fine, nothing too fancy”.

“And why should I care about this?” he asks, raising his head so you can see his bored expression. While he’s still in one of his moods, you notice his tone isn’t as harsh, your sudden story somewhat disarming him.

“Well, on the tables they had a bunch of napkins and those little holders for straws, oh and they had these brightly coloured sauces ,” you ramble on “but they also had this bowl on each table and you’ll never guess what they were full of…”.

Pulling your hand out of your pocket, you open your palm to reveal a bunch of toothpicks. Crosshair gazes down at your hand, his expression remaining neutral.

“I know they’re just toothpicks,” you shrug, unsure whether you should feel embarrassed or relieved by his lack of reaction “but when I saw them, I got excited because they made me think of you. And then I started wondering if you had enough toothpicks so I figured I should take some just in case you don’t”.

With your other hand, you pick out a toothpick and delicately place it on his leg, a satisfied smile on your face. You drop the other toothpicks into your pocket, jumping down from the crate “Anyways, I’ll leave you be now, just thought you might appreciate a toothpick”.

Crosshair stays silent as he watches you leave, waiting a few seconds to make sure you really are gone before taking the toothpick and putting it between his lips. With your words ringing in his head, a small smile begins to tug at his lips.

He rolls the toothpick along his mouth, hoping that’ll hide his expression. Sitting back on the crate, he closes his eyes, focusing all of his attention at what you said...

“they made me think of you”

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cherubispunk · 4 months

Text

CHERUB (PART III) - Dealer!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering.

a note from Lucy: Well, this is it folks. The third and final instalment of the unholy trinity that is cherub. The fic that i had no idea would get this amount of traction. The fic that gave me my username, blog theme, the majority of my mutuals and the freedom to explore more taboo areas of writing that I never felt comfortable with doing before. I just wanted to thank you all for all the kind words you’ve shared with me. Comments, reblogs, messages, they all mean the utter world. But i also want to specifically thank @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin who was such a huge help for motivation when wrting each of these. She's been there since the first day of cherub and always let me obsess over dealer!joel with her. Ange, i love you baby. Out of all my fandom experiences, this has definitely been one of the best. I know this sounds a lot like a goodbye completely, but it's not i swear! I just never really knew where this was going, but I think this is a pretty good way to end the series and I hope you agree too. Part of me isn't ready to let go after such a short run, but I honestly have no idea where to go from here so I think I did it as much justice as I could. Regardless, Cherub and Dealer!Joel will forever have a place in my heart all thanks to you lovely lot! Your love means the world to me and you are all so easy to share this with, you've given me an environment to flourish creatively and I'm eternally grateful for that. I wish you all the love, hugs, kisses, and angel wishes in the world!

playlist

wc: 5548 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! Unedited for now, no outbreak, no use of y/n but joel calls the reader ‘Cherub’, plot? what plot? we all know we're here for the porn anyway, bombastic age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his late 50s), gore imagry, religious imagry, Smut, very dubcon in theory but both want it bad, grafic smut, P in V sex (unprotected — pleaseee don’t do tis irl i beg of you), teasing, sort of edging? (idk what to call it but he doesnt fuck you until you beg for it lol). nipple play, biting biting biting!!!!!, references to domestic violence, use of pet names, manipulative! joel, stupid stupid cherub, stockholm syndrome, oral (f receiving), cum eating, pussy slapping, Joel being foul mouthed, cursing, dirty talk, overstimulation. Again, some of the most animalistic, disgustingly wretched and vile vile vile porn I have written thus far…with so little plot that this earned me my place in hell, i have my own circle now. Big Dick Joel Miller comes as his own warning.

series m.list | m.list

The danger didn't lie in his hands. It didn't sit in his closed first to be suffocated. Choked out until the life of it was compressed. Until its face was blue, then purple and its eyes were bloodshot and streaked with red. The danger lay in your heart. And it thrived off the beating.

What is ‘it’, you ask? Mania.

The Greeks had it nailed down when they split love seven different ways. To the crucifix through its punctured and bleeding palms. All equal, but different. They understood that one love is different to the other. That love can be either obsession, or lingering in the quiet parts of a person's mind. You cannot hold up a mirror to one and deceive into believing it is another. No matter how sweet the lie seeps into the ear. They don't work that way. You were not Lucifer, you had no forked tongue. And your mania wasn't Eve. There was no apple to devour. Only the strong arm of Joel Miller to cling to like a noose.

Some love passionately. Find it in the scathing friction of flesh upon flesh. The heat two bodies make only in sex. You were no body anymore. Merely a corpse for him to dig up and breathe life into whenever he needed relief. So it was not Eros. Some love playfully. In the back and forth of a conversation that makes the mind and heart float in the clouds among the soul. Entwine them together until you are too sedated to know the difference between the three pillars of personal holy trinity. There was nothing lighthearted about Joel Miller. So there was no Ludus. Affection. The subtle, it-is-there-even-when-it-is-not weight of lovers hand in lovers hand. Joel clutched your throat with his heavy hand. He didn't lace your fingers in his like tapestry threads. And he was anything but friendly. So it could never be Philia. He was not unconditional. Familial. Constant. Committed. Long lasting. Selfless. He crept in through the backdoor and took. Then slipped back out. So the thick blood red line was drawn through Storge. Agape. Pragma. The love you had was not for yourself. Without him you hated yourself. Hated how you didn’t feel needed. Or wanted. So Philautia was buried six feet under hot earth, the final nail in the coffin that was lowered into the rotting, thick-with-decaying-mulch, stenching ground. By none other than Mania.

This was something you came to realise as you stumbled from his truck back to your room. His come dribbling down your leg. Luke asleep on the sofa. Months passed of the same thing. He’d take you home from work, only letting you go once he'd had his fill. Played out the sick fantasy from mind to matter, let it bleed through his fingers into fruition. You let it happen for mania. It was the thing inside you that kept you going. Before you thought mania fed off your heartbeat. But now you realised mania fed your heartbeat. The kick it got every second fired the next muted pulse. That's what kept it alive. Energy for energy. You were never one to bite the hand that feeds. That’s a sinner's duty.

—

The usual sight of Luke slumped in his lazy boy, guzzling beer was what you expected. The liquor once again swigged past his lips and dribbling down his stubbled chin. Wiry greying hair greasy on his head, balding. Thinning. Residue from a line on the coffee table. You were never tempted by it before. And you were determined never be a Angel dust statistic like him.

Instead, you opened the flimsy door of your trailer to see him hunched over a small collapsible table. His hand running over his sunken eyes, dragging purple eye bags down with his fingertips in shame. Cards in his other. It had your breath catching in your throat like a hare in a wire snare trap. This time around the small collapsible round table. Cards in his hand. And two other men shared a knowing glance and a grim smile of satisfaction. Him.

Joel Miller.

The tension was thicker than molasses in the room. You only wished it was as sweet. You swallowed it down thickly. It stretched your throat. You watched in morbid fascination when he lay his hand on the table in a fan for all to horror at, a sly smirk slithering over his lips and curling the one corner of it up like a scorpion's tail.

“Full house.”

“Fuck!” And Luke’s hand slapped the tabletop as he folded.

The door clicked. All three looked up to see you. Luke, Joel, and the man who held a familiar resemblance to your own personal devil. With eyes on you, you felt more like that hare in the snare than ever. Clapping eyes on the hungry wolf as mutton dripped bloody from his sneer. Cruel and hungry. You imagined him as that wolf, hyde thick and bristled under your soft fingers as he led you to some deep, dark, thorny place. A place only lit by the eyes of owls who observed while he had his way with you. Ripped your stockings to get to sweet fruit.

“Great, the cunt is home.” Luke spat to the room but you, looking over the table again as he bit his thumb nervously to the edge of the hangnail. “Get me a beer.” Your nostrils flared in defiance at his demand, knuckles pale as fingers furled into a fist. An army of goosebumps had stood to attention all along your arms and the back of your neck. A shiver shattering down your spine. Your heart had enough of its prison of your ribcage in your anger, ramming into it over and over in a frantic hammering. And when that wasn't enough, you felt it in your throat. Among the tightening of your airways. “You hear me girl?” He asked, looking at you. He stood, chair scraping against the floor and you staggered back to the point your shoulderblades hit the door. While he was a thin, wiry man, he had a vicious backhand that stung. Like a vengeful aftertaste. “Y’need me to beat some sense inta ya girl, huh?!” You dared to spare a glance at Joel who was too busy collecting his winnings. You soon to be among them.

“Sorry.” You mumbled, looking to the floor and cowering off to the kitchen to get him his beer.

“Y’short, Luke.” You heard from the doorway, straining to hear the tail end of the conversation. Something about your uncle having it by monday. And then Joel telling him he shouldn’t raise a bet he doesn't have the dough to cover.

It took a second to catch your breath. Tears strung in your eyes and your chest threatened to split in two. Your sternum felt like it was cracking down the middle into clean halves under the weight of your chest. A hand clasped over your quivering lips to bite back a horrible sob and muffle it. Only your palm could know you were crying miserably. So you took a beer from the fridge, heard the hiss as the lid gave way and popped off. It clattered to the linoleum and you bared your teeth at the grating sound, picking it up and tossing it in the bin.

“Here.” You mumbled, placing it unceremoniously on the table in front of Luke.

“Y’got any spare cash on you, girl?” Luke asked, beady eyes staring you down as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a drink. You grimaced inwardly at the sight of his yellow teeth when he made a satisfied sigh.

“No.”

Joel’s brow raised. You should know by now not to lie to a man who can read you like a book. That's the thing about narcissists. They have a way of being able to understand you like a one word sentence on paper. A quick glance and you’re unravelling with concealed meaning and connotation.

“C’mon, Cherub…gotta have something from workin’ this late in that diner of yours…” You dared to challenge Joel with a look. A look that retreated soon after the advance of the glare of his eye. The same glare of the hungry wolf. Of the cheated man. It was unkind, and unyielding, and did not hold mercy upon the souls of the enthralled, the damned, or the harrowed. You might try to cross through the sentence, or turn the page. Or shut the book entirely. But the truth is still the truth even when you chose not to look. This was the man that knew your mind. Knew your body. And coaxed his will out of you each time. His word was all it took to cave, so you took the folded bills from your apron, flicking through them with a bitten back scowl,

“How much does he owe you?” Joel smiled with amusement, counting through his winnings to see what was short.

“Ninety-eight.”

‘What?” you asked, eyes wide, hurt. Disheartened. Fingers stilling halfway through the small stack. And Joel smirked.

“You heard me, Cherub.”

“Give Joel his money.” Luke warned.

“But it’s not his money! And it’s not yours to give!” You tried, and saw the warning tick of your uncle's narrow jaw. It was always set on edge before he threw a hand. Cast a palm across your cheek in a brandishing. It had you cowering. Relenting. Tossing the money in front of him. If it fell to the floor in its flurry he could pick it up and grovel about it. But Joel never grovelled. Only relished. Then reminded Luke of the money he still owed for the drugs.

And you walked back to the kitchen, biting into your lip again. With the devil and your demon in the next room over, you were sure this could be hell. A buzz filled your ears. Like the constant thrum of flies over roadkill. In festering flesh wounds where broken white of bone poked through gaping, bleeding holes. Blood matted in the hyde of the animal helpless and scattered across the road. A leg here, smashed teeth there. You were the roadkill. Joel was at the wheel of that which mowed you down. Luke was howling in the passenger side.

His boots thumped clumsily over the linoleum and he let out a huff through his nose while he adjusted his low slung jeans in the doorway.

“Cherub?” He asked, clearing his throat huskily — a consequence of the smokes he used religiously. You stood with your back to him, palms flat to the countertop and head hung low to fight the sting of tears simmering from within.

“He threatened to hit me.” You whispered, not turning to face him. If you mattered his ears would strain to meet you halfway. “And you did nothing.”

“Come on, Cherub…don't be like that.” he sighed, and you imagined him pinching the bridge of his hooked nose.

“He took my money. You took my money. How am I gonna get out of here without it?” You croaked, your tired eyes seeing faces of gaping mouths and slate black eyes in the speckled linoleum of the counter.

No reply came from the door. And when you turned it was empty. He had left. The other man had left. The tv was on again with the scream of a woman murdered. And Luke fell asleep in his lazy boy.

—

Another day, another shift. And more horror ensued. At first, what set the nerves thrumming was there was no sign of Luke. His truck was gone from its spot. No drunk slumped on the worn leather settee. No scream or grotesque image on the TV. Merely an empty bottle on the coffee table.

You swallowed, shutting the door cautiously with a muffled click of the latch. You didn't dare call his name. Just pushed it down into your stomach for it to churn the thought up in acid. But the horror jumped back up your throat into a lurid scream at the sight of your mattress tossed to the side. The moth bitten pillowcase on the floor, void of money. Your money. Gone. Someone had rifled through your belongings. Turned your only space into a mess. Strewn clothes, bed sheets, pillows in their haste. All your work. All the nights of living off bitter coffee from the pot at work, scrounging together tips. It made you seethe. The heat was an inferno at your fingertips, nails embedding crescents into your palms. You searched all over for it. But to no avail.

When Uncle Luke came home, he smelled of hard liquor. It was a miracle – or curse – he hadn't wrapped his car around a tree. He gloated, and sneered, and shoved it down your throat in his intoxication that he’d found it under the mattress. Joel had called him, told him you planned on leaving. And he connected the dots. Ransacked your room. Oh, how the man would hate his loose lips when you gave him hellfire.

You expected Luke’s reaction. You knew if he were to ever find out he’d snatch it up in his greedy, grimy hands and take it for himself. He spent all of it. Paid his debt to Joel, gambled some on bad luck bets, drank with the rest. Slugged liquor down his throat and got drunk off your labour. And then left you on your floor with tear stained cheeks and a heart of heavy lead.

You wanted your money. But would you take from the man who gave you your everything? Your sense of being. A religion and faith. You believed in nothing more than the way he held your name between his teeth. You forgot what your real name felt like in the same place. And it occurred to you that he had never said it. Did he know it? You weren't them anymore. You were Cherub.

The sweet and mourning lamb in you wanted to go over just to be his again, and not carry out the plan of taking back what was yours. That which he would see as sin. You felt guilt claw up your throat at the thought alone. It seemed blasphemous to conspire against him. Why do you insist on protecting yourself. You who was the sacrificial lamb?

If you did go – and you let him have you again – you were whole. But at what cost? Could you stand another night of temporary hell under the guise of heaven. Of touch so cold, like ivory or black ice. To have him thumb your skin with blunt endearments and the croon of ‘cherub’ past his chapped lips. Definite like black and white. No escape. What he’d do and how. Whispering them in the stone deaf shells of your ears like they were a sculpture. Pygmalion’s Bride. He’d made you all you were today. Took chisel to marble and carved out his masterpiece. Cherub.

You were soft, and pliable. Wax heated by his flame. You kissed back. You moaned for him. Begged him for his release and not your own. Bruised with his handprint. The warmth of life under flesh. But without him…you returned to marble. Another pretty thing to be gawked at. He tempted you with it because he knew more than anyone, more than god himself who watches these exchanges, that you can't live without him. It was like telling a child not to slip off to the woods in the dead of night. That was a pointless warning. You knew what lay there anyway, what threat it would be. That wolf in his thick bristled hyde. Curled up in his den. You would see it as innocence and vulnerability if you weren't so scared. But you knew when he woke up the teeth would shine again. And they’d tear flesh. Let blood. Gnash bone. Dripping from the glaring white once he finished with your carcass. Your matter between them and your crimson lacing his gums. Who knew being eaten alive could be so pleasurable.

But then again, how could bering alone really be hell if the devil wasn't there?

There is mania in your body. But you can't get it out. It rattles in your head and lungs and glues to the backs of your gnashers. No matter how much you wish to spit it out. It infects your tongue. It welds itself to the matter of your bones. Melts into the cracks between your teeth. Claggy against your tongue. All to show the sweetest of words have the bitterest of tastes. You can feel it swell underneath your skin. In the gap between muscles where it festers and heats you up. Like fever it burns, like the fire that consumes and the pillars that hold the temple up crack, the ground shakes, and the beast rears its ugly head at you. You’re losing your body to him. It's a fight you try to win. You dare to. You give your all, tooth and nail each time in the gaps between. In the silence and hollow that nestles in the middle of the meetings. In the quiet, where no one is around but the cracked plaster of your room. You stopped caring who fired the gun first. You were always the one who got shot down in the end. Right in the stomach. Blood gurgling up your throat in a grotesque plea for help.

All these weeks you had shrunk yourself to the size of a bird in his hands, sang a sweet sweet song of his name, until the squeeze of his first closest off your throat. And the sound stopped altogether. Laid there after the warning. Patient while you had your wings clipped and your freedom taken. And he took more. Took the beating of your heart with his teeth. Took the will to want. The will to love. The will to need anything else, as well as the need to have better. Below you were the foundations. Only now you saw them for what they were, a decaying mess of fragments, the stench of wood rot hot in your nose. A musk like no other. His musk. So in your anger you took an axe to a willow to see how it would weep. You slipped past the sleeping drunk you call Uncle Luke. Out the door, over gravel, past the truck he coaxed you to without the need of a sweet treat. You’d yank the axe from the bark of the weeping willow, its sob echoing in the wind that rustled its drapery of lush green leaves. Leaves that will wilt as sap bleeds from its severed trunk. Take the axe to the wolf. Cut him. Scrotum to throat.

Take back what was yours. And leave those woods skipping.

—

Your knocks descend upon his door in quick raps until he opened it with a grumble. Then a smirk. “Evenin’, Cherub.”

No salvation. No going back. No space among the clouds. Just the fall. You pushed past him into his front room. “Where is it?’ You hissed, tossing the cushions of the couch up. Nothing there. So you left them on the floor and did the same for the airchair. Nothing there either.

“Woah, calm down, girl!’ Joel huffed, reaching for your arm, which you tugged back from him in a new found strength surging you forward, out of his arms. “Where’s what?”

“My damn money, Miller!” You bit back with venom laced spit. A hunger for revenge making you salivate like a bad dog.

“The fuck you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I'm talking about, dickhead!” And he recoiled at your bared teeth, your verbal assault and battery, but went in for his own.

“Watch your damn foul language, girl!” He warned, reaching the end of his already short tether.

“You know how much he stole from me? Three hundred dollars of my hard earned chash. Forget my fucking ticket out of this shithole, I ain’t even paying rent now! And for what? Your god awful drugs!” His nostrils flared, and you watched the vein in his neck bulge under the sweltering heat of his own anger. Coiling inside him. Wounded bitch about to bite back.

“You didn’t have much of a probelm with my drugs after I fucked that pretty little hole of yours. All dumb and needy f’me, Cherub.” You grimaced at the sneer. But the feeling made your knees buckle. The name again. Cherub. You were Cherub. His cherub. “You want ya money back, huh? You can have it.”

That made you stutter. Thoughts skidding to halt at the sight of a brick wall. Crumpled matter as it smashed into it anyway. “What?”

“I ain't giving it to you for free though.”

“You're sick! It’s my fucking money!”

“Not in the eyes of the law its not.” And he folded his great oaks of arms over his chest in satisfaction. Once again one upping you.

“The eyes of the law? Says the fucking drug dealer. I bet you got way worse than coke in duffel over there. Wonder what the law would say about that?” It was said dismissively over your shoulder as you turned to leave. Alas, once again his large hand encompassed your wrist and squeezed. Pulled you back flush to his broad chest. His breath was hot on your neck as he whispered sweetly into your ear.

“Come on now, Cherub. You wouldn't do me in like that would ya? Not when I love ya…”

The way he said it…it didn't seem real. It was false. Comforting but not real. You knew it was a lie. This wasn't love. He didnt love. If he loved you he'd ask for your number then call you. Take you out. Let you cry on his shoulder and drive you home after. Kiss you in the dark for only the walls to see. Let you stay a night or two, or a whole damn week. Give you your damn money back. Stand up to Luke with a closed fist to the face. Leave swelling and a deep bruise on his cheekbone as a first and final warning.

“You love me?” You asked, voice small and hollow in your chest.

“Yeah, Cherub. I love you too.” He cooed, as if he knew you loved him already. All this and nose running over the curve of the side of your neck, tongue trailing hot in pursuit, it had you keeling over in confession at his feet. “You’re so cute when you're angry. Come on now, lemme make those tears go away…and you can have your money back, and we can forget this ever happened.” That tone…it was patronising. It made the sense in you rattle the cage of your ribs. Claw at the bars of bone and run into them like a caged animal. Because that’s what it was. A caged animal. But your heart was holding its hand over its mouth in a trance as it let his words ebb deeper. Somewhere between desperate and divine. But what was his motive?

God, Jesus, all above that is holy, you didn't care! After all this time, it was still no secret, or hushed uttering that Joel Miller was now everywhere in you. Scraping the backs of your teeth, festering like a virus in your bloodstream. Melding to the marrow of your bones. The walls of your cunt.

He still had a devastating habit of seeping through the cracks of your closed lids. Still ready to pillage and plunder his way through your head in its numbed state of sleep. When you could have finally— finally stopped and not felt. But he ebbs deeper. Always would. Always will.

It's what got you here. It would end you if it could. Snuff out your heartbeat and the fire inside of you. All he need do was lick his fingers and press them to the wick. And leave the smoke to string out and curl. You thought you were hungry for love before. But now you realised you were just hungry for the sight of your blood on his lips. The gnashing of you between his teeth. The curl you made of his brow. If it wasn’t devastating, reaping its agony in your silly little fractured chest— you didn’t dare need, nor crave it. You came for the pleasure but you stayed for the pain. And he took again, and again.

So you let him ‘make it up to you’. Let him claw at your clothes until they were scraps on the floor. Tore your stockings. Showed you those gleaming teeth. The wolf. And you, his sacrificial lamb. His Cherub.

“Feel that?’ He asked, with the slow drag back and forth of him inside you, parting you. This wasn’t fast, or rough. This was slow. And it made you need more. Need it faster. Need him hurtling you towards the edge of harrowing oblivion. He knew that. It’s why he took his time with it this time around. “Yeah. You do.” Joel answered for you. You never had to answer. But often he made you say it from your own quivering lips. Just to have the taste of the words from your tongue bleed into his. The neverending praise. “Why would you wanna leave that Cherub?” You couldn't answer, only let out a soft sob. “Huh? Answer me, Cherub. Why’d you wanna fuckin’ leave that?” And he punctuated it with pulling out to the bulbous head of his clock, then slamming back in with one sharp thrust. And then he was still.

You whined a shallow gasp into his mouth. But he didn’t kiss you. Joel never kissed you. His teeth sinking into your bottom lip shut you right up before his tongue delved deeper into it. The thumb of the hand that slithered between your legs rolled over your clit, making you mewl over the buzz of electricity causing you to clamp down on his thick, full cock. You were so eager for more. Anything more than what he was giving you. He smirked into your mouth when he felt your hips buck forward, trying your damn hardest to push his cock deeper into you. Silly little cherub. You should know better than to defy God. “See? Felt good didn’t it?” You nodded as much as you could in your current piston.

“Mhm.”

“See what you can have if you stay. Why fight it cherub?”

“Yes, Joel.”

“You gonna listen then, Cherub?”

“Yes. Yes! I’ll listen, just-” You shuddered at the thought of it, tears brimming at the the threshold of your eye. ”Please.”

“Say it.” He waited, wanting you to beg for it in the pretty way he knew you could. The choir voice. The songbirds hymn. The whole time his eyes did nothing but stare you down hungry at the sight of you falling apart from nothing but a hand to your throat and a single his throbbing dick buried in your aching cunt. It all pooled down into your centre, creating a rush your head had trouble keeping up with. “Tell me why you wanted to leave.”

“I dunno-” You stuttered, once again rolling your hips up. His hand at your throat pressed into your skin again, harder. It choked you. It had you drawing in a sharp, meagre breath. And he pulled out, running the underside of himself through the hot, drooling seam of your cunt. You shivered when the tip brushed up to your clit momentarily. The bead of precome at his slit smearing into your sex, mixing with your slick. “I dunno, Joel. I- I just wanted my money. I just wanted out. I hate it.” You babbled through closed eyes, chest heaving with sobs, and hot tears ran thick down your flushed cheeks.

“You hate it, huh?” He mocked and crooned, still catching your clit with the tip of his cock, hips waxing and waning in a slow roll. “You hate me too?” He knew the answer. But again, it was the satisfaction of knowing you were wrapped around his finger. Ready to bend over backwards for him. Him seeping into you through the cracks of your ribs, the gaps between your teeth. The opening of yourself to the twisting knot of denial within you. Your back arched like the lofty roof of a chapel, legs parting like its heavy doors. He followed you with hunger. You opened your mouth to speak but he squeezed momentarily on your throat again, oxygen starvation and the smell of him dizzying you. He relished in the whimper that he garnered from you. That and how he left you breathless just from his cruel touch.

“No.” You garbled as his thumb unhinged your jaw. Saliva in your mouth pooling while his thumb pressed your tongue down, bitter with a smokers telltale tobacco staining. It slipped past your lips, dribbled down his digits making a sticky mess at the curve of his thick wrist. He drew up a glob of saliva in his throat, watching as it drooled thickly, gluttonously, past his lips into your waiting mouth. He watched as you gagged on it, and then he let your jaw go so you could close your mouth. You swallowed eagerly, savouring the taste on your tongue. For what did it matter anymore? One day, you’ll be nothing but dust. Bronchioles in lungs will mimic roots. Navels will copy trunks. Organs will feed worms. Ribs will fossilise and lips that are kissed will mould back to Mother Nature. It's all you have ever been. Quick. Convenient. Easy to please, eager to help. Waiting lips, wanting cunt. Warm, never warm enough. But he kept you like a butterfly in a glass jar. He let you see freedom but never experience it. Why need it when you had the stretch of him inside you. The feeling of him, heat to heat with your sex.

“You want this, cherub? Wanna be stuffed full of me again?”

“Always wanted it, Joel.” You mumbled into his mouth, sniffing back the last this spurt of tears, hypnotised. His hand wrapped around his cock, the large splay of his palm did nothing to dwarf its size with he jacked himself once, twice, three times to the sight of you. He squeezed the base with hiss, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth after cursing under his bated breath. He was thick, flushed, the tip swollen and leaking, drooling greedily with a rivulet of precum down the underside of his length. He trod a path with his hands down to your breasts, kneading each one between his palms with a pinch before guiding himself back into the mouth of your heat, your cunt swallowing him down to the base. The needy roll of your hips into his showed just how desperate you were. He groaned at the start of the friction between you, and slowly dragged back out of you, moving just as slowly back inside. He repeated this twice, and then he let loose. The motion turned into a needy clash of his hips to yours. Again. Again. Again. Somewhere along the sting of passion and heat, his hand wrapped around your throat, feeling the flex of it as you swallowed under his palm. He bit down into your neck, reaching out from you as his hips slammed erratically. His heavy balls slapping against your ass with each rut forward of his unrelenting. The way he fucked you, was like holding a knife to your throat. It grounded you in the most harrowing way to each of his breaths. His panting in your ear. It swallowed you whole. Mad your legs wrap around his waist and your hips keen up into him.

Your cunt drooled down his shaft, down to the base, down the sensitive skin of his cock. He growled and hissed in your ear, teeth closing around your earlobe, his hand dragging back up and grip tightening around your neck. Getting off on the feeling of your pulse under his thumb.

You felt the knot tighten. And tighten. Right in the pit of your stomach, deep in your sopping wet cunt where the mouth of your cervix met his fucking. The walls of your cunt sucking him back in as the angle of his hips snapped up into the spot that had you seeing entire constellations. They darted to and fro across your vision. It blurred the edge, spots of dark matter, deep black, the colour of oblivion slinging over the back of your eyes that now burned with tears of pleasure. His fingers dug deeper into malleable flesh, gripped tightly at your hip with his free hand, thumb brushing over your hip bone down your mound to toy with your clit after a slap to it. And it was the action that sent you spiralling, babbling his name nonsensically among a string of curse words. So pretty and fucked out beneath him. Joel couldn’t help but stare smugly as your eyes rolled back into your head when your orgasm hit like a freight train. He came undone soon after, his climax hitting a crescendo with a growl bitten into your shoulder, bruising and brandishing you with his mark again.

He pulled back, leaving you to the mercy of the cold. Watching was his hips moved again to fuck his release back into you. Your hole quivered in protest, and you squirmed under him. “Don’t be fucking ungreatful now, Cherub.” You relented, going still and boneless on the mattress. Limbs unfurling from their tension. “That's it. Take it. Take it all.” He groaned smoothly. Just like the roll of his hips. He fucked it slowly back into you. And you took his release inside you to keep. “Good girl, Cherub.” He whispered, kissing your lips in a tender dichotomy. Not letting you rest until he was satisfied you took every drop of him. Afterall, it was all you’d have left of him until he next chose to pick you up. All the while, he trailed his tongue back down to your breasts, pressing the flat of it to your nipple, drawing it with a sharp suck into his mouth. Pressing the blunt of his teeth into your flesh. Letting the taste melt on his tongue. Salty with your sweat. He did the same to the others. When he went soft inside of you, and his hips stilled. He slipped out of you with hitched breath, the pad of his fingertips tracing your abused, used sex. Your legs twitching when he rolled your clit under two fingers. “I said stop squirming.” He grunted, landing another slap to your pussy. It made an obscene wet sound. His come dribbling out slowly.

“Open your mouth.” Joel commanded, and you did. Waiting for whatever he had planned. He licked a hot strip from your asshole to your cunt, pressing his tongue in to drag out some of his release. And he climbed back up to spit it into your mouth. A hand clamping down on your jaw. “Don’t swallow. Close your mouth.” And you did with the side of his thumb clamping it shut for you. “Taste that?” You nodded in response. It was hot, heavy and thick and salty to taste. Divine. “Show me.” You opened again, his creamy spend diluted amongst your saliva and he smirked. Clamping your jaw shut again. “Swallow.”

Joel watched in open mouthed amusement as the delicate column of your throat rippled under muscle contract. “Good girl, Cherub. Remember that taste next time y’feel like leaving again.” He warned in a growl. And you nodded, swallowing your pride. Your fear. Your mania aiding in shoving it down your throat to dissolve in acid. Once again you were in those deep dark woods. The one where the wolf lay. Remnants of you in his teeth. The willow is still weeping, slashed in half. The axe free of his bloodshed by the entrance of his den. The owls' eyes still lit the scene of sin where overhead the starlight was snuffed out by the tangle of branches thick in their black greenery.

You never got your money back. Maybe one day you'd get out of this town. But the devil has a funny habit of making you want your own suffering. Even angels can’t resist a slice of that heaven. Fallen angel. Wounded bitch. Cherub.

147 notes · View notes

definitelynotafurinasimp · 9 months

Note

Hey there! Could I please request Furina, Clorinde, and Navia with an S/O who fancies themselves as something of a vigilante (secretly or not is up to you, I have no particular preference) and generally likes to play pretty fast and loose with the laws? Thanks, hope you have a great day!

Them with a vigilante reader

characters: Furina / Clorinde / Navia x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: slight(?) angst in Clorinde’s part, light spoilers for the 2nd Arc of the Archon quest in Navia’s part

a/n: I have no idea if you wanted this to be angsty or fluffy, since the reader turning out to be a vigilante has more than enough potential for soul crushing angst, especially in the Nation of Justice, so I played it safe and go with the fluffier option whenever possible, that being said the Clorinde one is a bit more angsty, I think.

Also, I'm still trying to get a feel for the characters, so if I got some of their character traits wrong, then I'm really sorry

So I hope this matches what you envisioned, if not, tell me and I’ll try to write it again.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Navia

While the main producer of Sinthe had been convicted and she finally got rid of her father’s undeserved epithet, Spina di Rosula’s work was not yet done. The biggest supplier may have been dealt with, but as long as there were still people making Mora from selling that substance, neither you nor Navia would rest, not after witnessing what it did to people’s lives.

Navia and you making for good partners shouldn’t have come as a big surprise for anyone. Both of you held an enmity for anyone related to the Sinthe-trade, neither of you held an unwavering trust towards the justice system and the both of you had known each other since long before she took up her fathers mantle. And while your operation wasn’t technically legal, considering how the Hydro Archons last encounters with Navia went, the state decided to turn a blind eye for as long as Spina di Rosula didn’t betray its new found reputation.

You couldn’t remember when the last time was that just the two of you got to eat together like this. For weeks your nights were short and full of investigating, and even when you got to close your eyes, your dreams were filled with the case. But now that most of the Sinthe dealers were locked up behind bars, Navia felt it was only right for the two of you to take some time off.

“Where are Silver and Melus?”, you couldn’t help but ask when you didn’t spot the two men. They were always by her side, no matter when and where she set off, something even more impressive considering Melus’ age.

“I sent them to take some time off, they deserved it. Well, that and I wanted to have some alone time with you”, she explained with a smile, grabbing the plate with her baking and handing it to you, causing you to grab a macron or two before returning the smile, your heavy eyes feeling just a little bit lighter.

“You seem tired, didn’t you say you’d try to fall asleep earlier?”, Navia noted upon seeing the circles under your eyes, causing you to wave it off.

“I did, but then I thought of something and before I knew it I was looking into something”, you tried to play it off, only for the Boss to frown.

“The biggest threat is dealt with, give it a break and get some good night sleep. Not sleeping much isn’t good for your health.”

“Okay mom”, you sarcastically responded, a playful smile growing on your lips. One Navia quickly matched.

“If you don’t stop playing with the reports so late at night, I’ll have to confiscate your toys”, she responded in kind, causing both of you to let out a few snickers before turning your attention to the food.

“Can you pass me the black tee?”, you eventually asked before pointing at the kettle, only for Navia to stop in the middle of her bite and glare at you.

“No. I wasn’t joking, you’re going to sleep early tonight. Even if I have to force you.”

Furina

You were nothing more than a proactive private Investigator. A proactive private Investigator that followed the law, obviously. Vigilantes were criminals, criminals with good intentions, but criminals nonetheless and for the God of Justice’s closest companion, being a criminal was obviously out of the question. Because she would never protect and keep a criminal by her side. That would be ridiculous.

That was the deal, and what Furina made sure you'd remember.

Had this sort of secret been kept by anybody else, Furina might have considered it a twist worth listening to. It would have made for a trial she wouldn’t have been able to wait to attend. But why did it have to be you? Had the Archon found out about your secret earlier, you would be sitting behind bars since a long time ago. Nobody but the state, nobody but her, was allowed to determine whether someone was a criminal or not.

But by the time you eventually confessed it to her, it was too late. Were it her feelings that made her choose to keep shut or the knowledge that having news that the all knowing God of Justice didn’t notice her closest companion’s secret identity would deliver a considerable hit in her both trustworthiness and popularity as an Archon was irrelevant. The only thing counting being that you remembered those three important rules.

“Hand them over to the Gardes at the earliest possible opportunity, deliver evidence that there’s a crime that justifies me arresting them without the legal clearance to do so and don’t be seen.” While it would have been a lie to say that your lackluster recitation didn’t annoy Furina in the slightest, the fact that you remembered them word-by-word was reassurance enough that you would do your best to follow them.

For anyone unfamiliar with the person behind their god’s confident facade, it would have been a surprise to see their Archon nervously pacing around the room, but for you it was hardly a rare occurrence. Whenever you gathered enough information about a suspect to be certain they were a serious criminal and the only step left was to make them face justice, she’d sit you down in her room before hammering those rules into your brain..

“Exactly, and you better remember each and every one of those. I may have kept our- your secret so far, but don’t even think for a second I’ll hesitate to throw you into the dungeons myself if I hear you as much as consider breaking one of them”, she tried her hardest to keep her composure, and although the thought of making a small jest crossed your mind, doubting the validity of her threat, it wouldn’t surprise you if anything but a 100% serious answer would be enough to make her pass out, and so you cleverly decided to shut up and nod.

“Good, I could see from the moment I first laid eyes on you that you weren’t a criminal, so rise and do what you have to do”, she continued to cling to the image of the well spoken, righteous Archon her citizens surely knew her as before just as quickly collapsing onto the same chair the moment the door closed behind you.

“Why do I keep doing this to myself???”

Clorinde

While your family wasn’t wealthy enough to pay for you to get any kind of training, you were always a fascinated with sword fighting, so much so that the moment you finally saved enough to buy a good sword you asked Clorinde to teach you how to properly use it, something she saw no reason to refuse.

You had gotten a lot better since the first time the two of you trained, not nearly good enough to best her, but more than certainly enough to hold your ground against most enemies and threats in the wild. A part of her wanted to feel proud about her accomplishments as a teacher, but she couldn’t, not when she knew what you were using those acquired skills for.

Clorinde wasn’t blind. She knew something was going on the moment you started returning home in bruises and wounds from your “late-night walks”. At first she assumed some petty criminals must have started extorting you, but when you didn’t seem to be missing anything and she heard about a mysterious person apprehending criminals, it didn’t take her long to realize just what you were doing.

“What do you think of that ‘vigilante’ everyone is talking about?”, you asked while trying your best to block whatever attack she threw at you, your eyes landing on her for just a split second before fixating on her blade again.

Well, you couldn’t be more direct.

“I’m not sure. I know desiring justice is a noble trait, but if it’s justice they’re after, why not report the cases to the Gardes?”, she responded calmly, trying her best to keep her suspicions as hidden as possible.

“Maybe they don’t trust Fontaine’s law enforcement to do their job?”, you countered just as calmly, not averting your eyes from her weapon for even a split second.

“And what’s your opinion on the way the court does its sentencing? Just between the two of us”, her gaze left her own blade long ago, slowly but surely making their way down towards you.

“It’s certainly an entertaining spectacle”, you explained, only for her blade to suddenly change course and hit you in the chest. The only thing stopping it from sinking into you being the fact that it was a dull training sword. Before you knew it, Clorinde was silently staring you down, staring straight into your eyes and sending a shiver down your spine. Before finally speaking up once again.

“Then I hope they don’t get caught. The last thing I want to do is have to fight them in a real duel.”

If it took her, a duelist, nothing but a closer look to figure your secret out, it wouldn’t take a prosecutor long either. For your sake-, both of your sakes however, she hoped you’d manage to keep any suspicion away from you… at least long enough until she didn’t have to worry about you losing against her fellow champions.

#furina #furina x reader #furina x y/n #furina x you #clorinde x you #clorinde #clorinde x reader #clorinde x y/n #navia #navia x reader #navia x you #navia x y/n #focalors x reader #focalors

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joels-shitty-puns · 8 months

Text

The Key To Your Heart - Track 2

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.8K

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

I had a real rough time figuring out the proper voice for Pedro's dialogue and I hope I did him justice. Either way, the support I received for part 1 is astounding and completely unexpected! Thank you all for reading and let me know what you think :) I plan to continue until the story wraps up, but I don't know how many parts that will be. I hope to post every couple days, but with my work schedule it may be less speedy. Here we go!

You walk in the door, unclipping Skip's leash, slipping off your shoes, and dropping your keys on the countertop before flopping onto the couch and unlocking your phone. No. Fucking. Way.

Pedro Pascal (pascalispunk) replied to your message.

You dissected each letter of the username, assuming it couldn't possibly be THE Pedro Pascal… but it was. It really, really was. You clicked the message, holding your breath.

Pedro Pascal replied to you: "Hey, you don't need to thank me. I didn't say anything that wasn't true. That guy was out of line. You deserve happiness and I'm sorry for the harsh words you've been hearing. I appreciate you sharing your vulnerability with the world and hope that you will continue to be your genuine self and ignore the comments trying to make you be someone else. Don't listen to those people."

You stared in disbelief at his words, once again wondering why he would ever be so kind to someone he doesn't even know. Someone so childish and stupid to write a song about a man she doesn't know. I can't imagine he'd think these things if he knew it was about him…

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I'm a big fan of yours and hearing that you're in my corner has me completely at a loss. I can't imagine why you would risk damaging your image by defending a girl…" No… don't say girl, it makes you sound like a child. You want this guy to like you! You backspace with a slight feeling of ridiculousness over the whole scenario. Ugh it's all wrong… calm down... calm down… it's just a conversation. He doesn't know you. He doesn't like you. Don't make it weird like you always do.

You try again.

You: "Thank you Mr. Pascal. I really admire your work and for you to say such kind things to me… to think that you're in my corner, has me completely at a loss for words. I don't know what I did to deserve this treatment when you don't even know me, especially when coming to my defense could potentially harm your image… but thank you."

He read it almost immediately. Your heart was beating out of your chest and you felt like you could throw up from the anxiety and adrenaline. After a few seconds, those stress-inducing dot-dot-dots appeared to show you he was typing.

He's actually replying to me?? Again? Doesn't he have better things to do?

Your mind wandered to what he might be doing while he's messaging you. Sitting at his home, relaxing, taking the time to reply to you? Why? Maybe he's on a plane or waiting for something and killing time. Maybe he's- *ping*

Pedro Pascal replied to your message:

"Please, you can call me Pedro.. and as far as defending you, it doesn't matter to me that we don't know each other personally. You seem like a woman with a good heart, and all you did was share your true self. Nobody deserves to be talked poorly about for something harmless that they feel. If something like that hurts my image… then my true self wasn't being represented. I think we all just want to be seen, and I hope that you will feel comfortable to be yourself and show yourself more."

You don't know when you started crying, but you hiccupped with the overwhelming wave of emotions. He sees me.. you had just scrolled to the bottom of the long reply, when you noticed the "..." of typing again. He has more to say?!

Pedro Pascal: "As far as the subject of your song.. whether you choose to reveal that to him, or the world, you deserve love and respect. Being vulnerable and putting yourself out there is a terrifying thing to do, and I myself tend to close myself off from relationships to avoid that potential for getting hurt. But if that's what you want, you've already taken a big step and you should go for it. I hope that whoever he is gives you the respect and love you deserve."

Holy crap…

He doesn't… he doesn't know it's him right?? No. There's no way. He's just being nice… he's too nice. He's too genuine..??

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, doing a little dance in the air, pondering what to say. How much can I share with this man? Between this crush and his kind words, it's feeling tricky to hold back from spilling too much information.

You: "Thank you Pedro. You're too kind and I can't properly explain how much I really appreciate it. I'm having trouble coming to terms with all the sudden attention, and finding it hard to ground myself. But your words are helping me a lot. I - "

You hesitated over your next words, wondering if you should open up or just leave it. Don't be weird… don't scare him away like you always have with everyone else. As much as you think of disclosing your hesitation and lack of experience with relationships, as well as your reasons for trepidation, you decide to spare him of your self-hatred. Instead, you delete that last letter and hit send.

Then you send another message, like he did. "And as far as the guy… I know I don't know him personally, we've never met, but I can already tell he would treat me right. I just hope maybe someday he will love me back."

Immediately after sending it you regretted it. That felt way too open and vulnerable. What are you thinking!?! Shit… what if he sees through you!?

You hold your finger down on the message, ready to hit unsend before he sees it. But it's too late. He's already replying.

Pedro: "He would be stupid not to love you back."

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

You: "Thank you, Pedro. 🥺" Play it cool… Play it cool…

Pedro: "Of course, sweetheart. Feel free to message me if anyone else gives you trouble or you just want to chat. I enjoyed talking with you."

???!!!!!?????!!!!! SweetheartSweetheartSweetheart

You grabbed your nearest pillow and screamed into it. "SKIPPPPPEERRRRRRR!!!!!! I JUST HAD A CONVERSATION WITH PEDRO AND IT WAS MAGICAL AND AAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!" You squealed.

Skipper lifted his head at you and sighed before setting his head back down. He was no stranger to your shenanigans. Napping after a good walk was a better use of his energy than to deal with your drama. He closed his little brown eyes again.

You lay back on the couch, kicking your feet and squeezing your pillow to your body.

Fuck, this is going to hit me like a truck if it goes sour. If he even realizes it's about him, probably. Crap… what am I going to do?

The next day, you woke up and checked your emails before work. Thankfully nobody at your workplace has seemed to place your singing voice to your speaking voice, or pieced together the fact that several people know you have a crush on a certain celebrity and are a musician. Thank goodness. That’s the last thing you need.

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, trying to calm your breathing, your nerves, and your heart rate, before relaxing and shaking out your body. Finally, you decided to get ready for bed and see what tomorrow brings.

Your emails come in, one by one, with one intriguing email at the top, from a well known pop-culture show called The Jazz & Ally-Kat Show. They want to do an interview with you, live, as soon as possible.

Great. They probably just want to see what I look like or have me spill my guts about my crush. You roll your eyes, and you can’t help but feel like the Mandalorian with his lack of face reveals. If only you had a cute little space baby to accompany you. I guess Skip is my own precious cargo in a way, you think, while looking at your still sleeping pup. You're being silly… Not everything needs to relate back to Pedro, you think with a sigh to yourself.

Yet despite your anxiety, you agreed to their interview, with the exception that it was done as a podcast style interview, where simply your voices are featured. Surprisingly, they agreed. I guess everyone likes some drama, and what better way to get views than by having a little mystery.

The interview was scheduled for three days from then, and in the meantime you focused on work and your album, which was mostly finished after years of writing songs. All it needed was some editing.

As the days went by, you wanted desperately to message Pedro again. You wanted to tell him your feelings. Have him confess that he loves you too. Ask him about his family, his friends, his favorite things. Meet him, kiss him, fall in love, and finally be happy. But ultimately you knew that was silly. You had one little conversation, and although it was nice, you still didn't know each other. There was no way he loved you back. Yet…? you asked yourself, hopeful, almost asking for permission to let yourself try and earn his love.

Despite Instagram drawing you in like a magnet, you held back from messaging him. You didn't want to come on too strong. You messaged him first last time. He doesn't know you. Literally… he doesn't even know your real name, or what you look like. But maybe that's a good thing…

_____The day of the interview:_____

You woke up around 9:30 in the morning; nervous, slightly nauseated, restless, and jittery. Why did I agree to this??!

You decided to pass on the coffee this morning, figuring it would make things worse, and instead decided to take Skipper for a walk. After some fresh air followed by a refreshing shower, you looked at the clock. 11:30 AM. With the interview at 1PM, you still had some time to kill and sat down at the piano, letting your mind wander to Pedro while you plunked chords out with nimble fingers. I wonder if Pedro has ever wanted to learn any instruments… I could teach him, you daydream.

Your hands dance across the piano while he reads through a script in the other room, eyebrows furrowed as he highlights another line. You look up over the grand piano and see his soft brown curls blowing under the fan haphazardly. The sun is shining in through the window, which Skip bathes under, and reflects a golden brown undertone with gray streaks in Pedro's hair. He really is beautiful, you think. His tongue swipes across his lips as he makes notes and erases, before finally feeling your eyes on him. He glances up from the script, giving you a soft smile and a wink; with those chocolate brown eyes that frequently cause you to lose your train of thought. Your eyes drift down to the keys again, feeling a soft blush creep over your cheeks.

"That music sounds beautiful, baby.." he says softly while padding up to you behind the piano. He places his large hands on your shoulders, sweeping them down over both your arms before settling on your hands, still resting over the black and white keys. You look over your shoulder and he leans in, closing his eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Just like that scene in Narcos… you think. Yikes, I really am obsessed… anyway… you think back to your daydream…

He sits down at the chair next to your piano bench, kissing your lips again gently, then the corner of your mouth, your cheek, and your jaw. Your stomach gives a wave of butterflies and you lean in more to kiss him deeper, tugging on his hair while his hands find the small of your back, gently running his palms up your spine. A chill overcomes you and he-

~Beep beep. Beep beep. Beep beep.~

Fuck. You snap out of your fantasy and turn off the alarm you set to go off ten minutes before the interview. At least I gave myself time to use the restroom and wash my face, you think, hoping to clear your head a bit now that you're slightly frazzled.

Unfortunately the feeling that replaced it was nerves as you sat down at your desk, typing into your keyboard, turning on your mic, and hoping that Skipper doesn't throw a fit over the wind or something while you're on this call.

Jazz: "Hi there listeners! We're joined by the artist of the moment, our favorite lovesick lady, the singer responsible for "Imaginary Love!"

Both women on the other end of the call applaud.

Well… not sure I like being called a lovesick lady but what else did I expect, really?

You: "Thank you guys for having me, I appreciate you wanting to get to know me better."

Despite the rough start, the ladies turned out to be really respectful and fun. You think that if the circumstances were different, you could actually be friends with them. You discuss casual things like your dog, your favorite activities and favorite pop culture topics (careful to avoid mentioning Pedro or any other actor that could be perceived as your lyrical subject), and they even mention celebrity crushes they've had growing up.

At the mention of their celebrity crushes, you can feel the interview funnel into a dangerous alley with little to no escape. Jazz was the first to broach the subject. "So… we've just discussed our celebrity crushes, and I think I speak for all of us here when I say we're all very curious to know who-"

-an air horn blares-

What the hell is that? You wonder, both thankful for the interruption, yet startled by the disruption.

They both chime in: "Viewers!!! Do you all know what that sound is!?! We have reached 1 million listeners!!!!"

To say you were astounded is an understatement.

You: "You're kidding!? 1 million people are listening to us right now?"

Ally: "You bet they are! And listeners… I don't know about you guys… but I can't help but wonder if our celebrity heartthrob is one of those million?"

They turn their attention to you again. "What do you think? Think he's listening?"

You're thankful for the lack of a camera, because you can't help but blush at the thought. You'd be lying if you hadn't already considered (hoped) that he was listening too.

Jazz: "So as we were saying… I think we all are in agreement that we want to know who he is. You sound like a nice enough girl, so what's holding you back? You've made it. You can contact him now and he'll probably reply."

I already have… you thought with a smirk.

Jazz continues: "Which brings me to the next point... I know you've had a lot of attention lately. You were signed to a record company, you were contacted by us, you've been mentioned by a few talk shows and celebrities. Pedro Pascal even publicly defended you. The radio has been playing your song nonstop and people can't get enough. What do you think of all this attention?"

You: "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a bit surprised and maybe a little scared," you answered with a nervous laugh. "But I am so thankful for the kind words that I receive and I love hearing from people who can relate to my music."

Ally: "You've certainly received your fair share of criticism too. It sounds like you received that before your song was ever published as well."

You: "I have, and it's been challenging to try and not let it get me down. But I'm trying my best, and the positives seem to be greatly outweighing the negatives," you state, your mind thinking of Pedro and how his messages were really the only positive you needed to get you through the dark storm of criticism.

Ally: "I guess what I'm wondering is.. among all these people contacting you.. has he?"

You try to play dumb: "Has who?"

Both interviewers laugh before Ally continues. "Nice try. You know who we're trying to find out about. Has he, the man of your dreams and star of your lyrics, contacted you at all? Will we see a romance blooming?"

Your stomach flipped. You were not expecting this question. Should you tell the truth??? It's not like they could know who has contacted you, short of hacking your account. You have had a lot of people contact you, after all.

You take a deep breath before answering. "I uh… I have received a lot of messages, some of them from celebrities."

They reply, and you can practically feel them leaning in. "Yeeeeaaaah?????"

You consider your next move, your heart really working overtime since this whole thing started. Finally you decide your answer.

"Yes. We've talked."

Looking for Track 1? Read it here!

Next chapter: Here!

~Thanks for reading! Stay ~tuned~ for more!

Taglist: Let me know if you want in :)

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal fic #A! wrote a fic #rpf #pedro pascal rpf #key to your heart

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Text

Perception

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

A/N: I hope I did this some justice!!! Brown eyes are amazing 🫶🏻

"Perception"

“You gon’ miss me when I’m gone, hen?”

Leaning against the kitchen counter, one arm propping him up as he drank chocolate milk, Johnny eyed you in your living room organizing books. Sitting on the floor, legs criss crossed, as you continued to toy with a color scheme for your books. You peeped your head back and rolled your eyes.

You scoffed,

“Yeah who’s going to kill the spiders?”

You were in no mood to talk. The little back and forth chase between Johnny and yourself had been happening for over 3 months. What you had planned to be a one night stand, ended up unraveling as multiple occurrences, multiple meetups between you two. It seemed as though the universe had different plans for you.

You had long forgotten about him. (Not really) Johnny had lingered by your door holding on your chin with his massive hand, towering over you, kissing you repeatedly.

“Thanks bonnie, fucks sake you’re really something else.” Lingering on your lips until 4AM.

With that he had disappeared.

A week after your hookup you had gone into a coffee shop to indulge in their chocolate chip cookies. Sure enough, Johnny was there having a cup of tea, mouth full of a dry scone. He peered right at you as you had paid, motioning you to come sit.

“Fancy seein’ you here. Are you stalking me? Was our night that good?” He smirked, towering over you.

“You’re in my country Johnny,” you said, rolling your eyes. The audacity of this man. He should’ve been gone by now.

“Good seeing you!” You grabbed the cookie you came for and walked out.

The second instance he had been filling his gas tank in the jeep he drove.

Your machine didn’t take Apple Pay, so you walked into the store to pay. After walking out, Johnny was there, already closing the fuel cap letting out a whistle as he eyed you up and down.

“Swear we got to stop meeting up like this, pet”

Your back radiated goosebumps. Just how small was this fucking city that you couldn’t hide from your one night stand?

“We’re not meeting up, I’m getting gas.” You turned your back and you loaded the gas in your car.

He laughed at you. “Aye, so am I”

“I’ll see you soon then?” he hopped in his car and drove away.

You finished getting gas and then hopped in your car. A candy wrapper had been placed on your windshield. You got out again and noticed it said “Johnny xxx-xxx-xxxx”

You scoffed again. Was he toying with you? The man was a persistent flirt if anything. You tucked the phone number away in your jacket pocket. If he wanted to fuck you so badly it would be on your terms.

How great that turned out.

Johnny practically made himself at home, visiting you Friday night and Sunday nights. “Ending the week with an orgasm and starting the week with one” — was the stupidity he told you.

Then it became “let’s make Haggis, treat you to a real Scottish meal.”

The national dish of Scotland that you had immediately regretted putting in your mouth. You suggested cooking a “proper meal” for him next time.

“Wha’ you gon make me a hamburger hen?” He pushed you slightly, making you blush.

“Fuck off I’m not a hamburger person”

“Aye and I love hotdogs very delicious” he continued to tease you. He never once saw you cook.

When you made him a pot roast, it ensured having him around all the time. He made small jokes about keeping you around and possibly marrying you.

“Need me a hen that can cook”

He saw how it made you blush and how it also infuriated you when he said things like that. Another way he loved getting under your skin.

Now you are here.

You were going back to the sadness, bitterness, and loneliness that haunted you at night.

Part of you wanted to speak up, tell him that you at least wanted communication when he left, but knowing him, he would dismiss your idea and talk about something else.

He spoke again from the kitchen,

“God… I think I’ll miss the milk here.”

You peered up from the book you were trying to place and spoke up. Defeated, you gave in.

“That’s all you’re going to miss?”

Johnny heard it in your voice. The small crack that emitted at the end. Your back was still turned and you focused on biting the edges of your tongue to not let the tears fall down your face.

He didn’t want to be honest and scare you away, so he said something else.

“And maybe your Sunday roast…”

You quietly excused yourself to the bathroom. “Hah, I’m going to have a shower.” Maybe the heat of the water would hurt you more than what he just said.

Neither of you brought it up again after that. Johnny apologized to you later that night, in only physical form, making you moan and shake in bliss. He kept the light on to watch your face release the tension from earlier.

“Watch me, pet. Look at me, I'm here.”

You made eye contact with him, brows furrowed as he was inside you. He looked at your eyes. Brown and spellbinding. He had always gone for the blue eyes, icy snowflakes that blinded him. However he noticed your brown eyes—loved that he was so hypnotized by them. Hues that brought him comfort and a place to be at home. God, how he would miss them, pacifying him and the simplicity of them, that made him feel so comforted and loved. He drowned himself in your eyes every morning, and swallowed them in his heart every night.

Two days later “Johnny” became “Soap” and went off in Asia to track down someone.

On the mission as they debriefed their next execution, Gaz, Ghost, and Price sat around a campfire. Once the team had a sure plan, they got sidetracked and began to talk about plans after this mission.

“Got any plans, Soap? You’re always traveling around the world.”

“Aye, might go to the states again,”

“Which American got you this time, MacTavish?”

Soap kicked the dirt beneath him and laughed heartily.

“Aye Gaz, you know me too well.”

He hit the dirt with the toe of his boot and placed his hands on his tactical vest.

“Should’ve been a one night stand, but man those eyes kept popping out everywhere.”

Gaz looked at him, attempting not to laugh. Every woman or man Soap met, he fell in love with. It was hard to take him seriously.

“Let me guess blue?”

“Not at all mate, it was kind of like Simon’s eyes”

“You mean Ghost?”

“Aye you ever had a haver with Ghost and see his eyes?”

“They’re brown”

“You don’ get it mate.”

Soap was frustrated. How could he describe your eyes that brought him comfort and warmth? It brought mellowness to him and welcomed him home.

Reminded him of the chocolate ice cream he shared with you one afternoon and how the bright shirt you wore made them pop out like the caramel candies he sucked on as a kid.

They reminded him of the sugary goodness he drank at your apartment while watching you do mundane things.

He would marvel at them when he told you to look at him as he thrust himself inside you. The sun speckled on your face as it heightened flecks of gold honey-amber, and brown swirling inside them. That’s what made him gush, that’s what made him come back and stay.

How simple your eyes were but consoled him and brought solace.

They would also bring fear to him when he took a joke too far and they would turn russet or deep brown, hiding your pupil.

“Aye…lass it’s a joke.”

The intimidation coming out in his voice. But how hungry he felt to come closer to you in such a vicious and wild state. He loved when they turned almost obsidian, you on top of him holding on and crying his name out.

He mentally cursed himself for giving you space in his head. The danger he could put himself in — distracted by you. He knew he had to end it. Fuck being this lovesick over someone in another country. He finished his mission, deployed back to his country.

A month had passed since the mission.

Plowing through the countryside, he spotted an oak tree. Its branches were wild and open. It held some leaves on its branches, but grew unruly high in the air. The brown trunk, the earth surrounding it, all different shades of brown, all emotions parallel from your eyes.

He rested by it. He missed you a lot today.

He missed waking up before you, drinking your chocolate milk while prepping your “bean water” coffee.

He missed coming to your bed, placing the coffee by your nightstand, climbing on top of you, legs on either side of you as he watched as you slowly woke up to the aroma of the coffee.

He laughed because, the sun couldn’t wake you, him watching a tv in the room couldn’t wake you, but the scent of coffee could drag you out of unconsciousness.

“Aye, so that’s what drags you away from death?”

You sat up, as he shifted back a little, still on top of you. Watched you drink your coffee and your eyes lighting up from the rays of the sun. A velvet shade of amber, lighting up your face, and making Johnny mesmerized.

He mumbled and thought to himself,

“That’s my kind of heaven right there.”

“What?”

“Coffee’s real heaven aye?”

He came back to the city, heading into a coffee shop, ordering a scone that wasn’t as dry as the coffee shop by your apartment.

He trudged home, watching and hoping the Earth beneath him attempted to swallow him whole. The guilt of leaving you. The sorrow that filled his stomach. When he arrived home, it didn’t feel like home. Your eyes weren't there to greet him.

He said he would be back within two months. Four months have passed. After the third month you continued your life without him. Your tears dried up, your bathroom no longer had his hair around. His milk carton is spoiling in the fridge, his socks with hamburgers on it are still in your drawer, along with the blue hoodie he left you that night.

Those are the only things that you hold onto. A stone in your stomach settles knowing he’s not coming back.

You wouldn’t know how to reach him anyway.

You wake up thinking how easy it was with him here. How much fun you had, getting a glimpse of domesticity with him. How you folded laundry with him, made dinners together, made love with the lights on because he loved seeing you unfold and watching your eyes disappear to a deep chocolate brown from euphoria.

Now you’re sitting in your apartment sorting the books you sorted four months ago, turning back every ten minutes hoping to see him raiding your fridge for the chocolate syrup.

Instead, a knock at the door—

You get up and open it.

Johnnys standing there, white, pink, and orange flowers in hand.

“Got dropped off in the wrong country, pet.”

He’s standing there in front of you, smirk on his face. He’s not telling you he almost ran away from you.

He hands out the flowers to you, you’re in disbelief.

You study him wordless, trying to get your brain to connect to your tongue.

He jumps back into your apartment, searching through your cabinets and fridge.

“You don’t have milk, aye…but you’ve got my syrup.” He clutches the bottle in the air.

You sigh out, “...yeah”

He looks at you, he sees the bewilderment on your face. He grabs your face and peppers kisses all over it before prying your mouth open with his, indulging in your tongue. He holds your face in between his hands, the lights in your apartment didn’t do your eyes justice.

“Over a hundred days without you, pet.”

“One hundred and twenty…” you breathe out.

He came back. He actually came back.

He’s got on a chain, a blue topaz stone hanging down and a darker yellow topaz right next to it.

When you ask him about it, he shrugs, says it so casually,

“I couldn’t find a gem dark enough for your eyes, but er–”

He holds the two gems in his fingers, shifting in his brain all the images he’s saved of your eyes.

“Just reminds me of us.”

#call of duty #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #iohnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mw 2

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igncrxntripley · 1 year

Note

Can i request a Rhea x fem imagine, where the R’s personality is like original alexa bliss NXT debut, like girly/fairy all that. She’s also part of the bloodline and has a secret relationship with Rhea, cause the judgement day and bloodline are in a feud. Then hints about their relationship drops to both groups, then after a huge win Rhea congratulates her exposing their relationship. It causes both groups to majorly buttheads about it, making like slick remarks. It just ends in fluff, and has angst and all that. Lol thank you so much!💛💛

blood is thicker than water

a/n: pls i hope i did this idea justice

tags: fem!reader, poc!reader, wlw, little cousin!reader w/ the uso's/roman reigns, brief mention of the judgement day, SFW

There was something so fun about sneaking around behind your cousins' backs. None of them needed to know about your relationship with Rhea because it was truly none of their business, but they also wanted nothing more than to keep you away from them. The Judgement Day was the same way with Rhea, but she was more assertive when it came to standing up for herself in comparison to you.

You and Rhea apparently weren't as sneaky as you originally thought though, as someone had begun to drop hints to not only your cousins and Paul and to The Judgement Day as well. You didn't even know until your older cousins sat with you looking incredibly pissed.

"You better be honest with us, Y/N." Jey said. Jimmy was pacing around the room, and Paul was watching you very closely to see what your answer would be. But you just rolled your eyes and pretended like nothing happened. "You guys just really have zero faith in me, don't you?" You asked them; that alone unleashed a whole argument. Of course you loved your family, but they couldn't just let you be yourself and it was incredibly frustrating.

The Judgement Day had been pestering Rhea about it just as much. "So now you're sneaking around with The Bloodline?" Damian would ask. Finn would chime in and provide his two sense, Dominik being too confused and upset to even say anything. But Rhea just shook her head and ignored them as well. "If you're gonna believe some sneak who has no clue what they're talking about then you're no better than them." She would say.

After having those conversations though, you and Rhea had your usual secret meet-up in a tech closet backstage. You sat in her lap, Rhea's fingers drawing gentle patterns on your arms as you talked about the conversations each group was having. "I don't get it's even an issue." You mumbled to her, and Rhea sighed in frustration along with you.

"It doesn't," she assured you. "They're all too controlling for their own good." Rhea titled your face up to look at you sadly. "This doesn't change anything for me though, okay?" She assured you. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded at her words, your foreheads leaning together as you sat in comfortable silence. After some time though, Rhea giggled at you and you stared at her in confusion. "I'm glad our pain is funny." You mumbled, making her laugh again.

Rhea lifted your face and held your cheeks as she smirked. "I have an idea." She told you.

--- ---

Originally you thought Rhea was insane; was she truly going to just...expose your relationship? After The Bloodline and The Judgement Day were already butting heads? The thought made you just slightly nauseous but you had to trust her. Rhea already had a plan, and you just needed to sit back and let it happen.

You had a huge match that night against Bayley, and it was going to determine whether you were going to get the championship match you'd been dying for. Not only were you itching for that opportunity but your cousins had been down your throat about it.

Nothing about that match was easy; not only were you fighting Bayley, but Io and Dakota were trying to make everything that much difficult. They kept interfering, distracting you, doing anything they could to give Bayley the upper hand. It didn't work though, and you came out on top in arguably one of the biggest matches of your career so far. Not only that, but you did it without your cousin. You proved that you don't need them, and you hoped they could finally realize that.

As you stood in the ring celebrating your big win, Rhea's music hit and she was slowly making her way down the ramp. With both of you still in character, she stared at you with the same shit-eating grin she always had on her face and you watched at her with the intense stare you'd mastered from watching your cousins. Rhea took her time getting up into the ring and she stood across from you. She slowly inched closer and you tried to hide the smirk tugging at the corner of your lips but it was nearly impossible.

Before you knew it, her hands were on your hips and she was pulling you into a passionate kiss. The audience went wild, and you know both your cousins and Rhea's partners were backstage going absolutely mad. But you didn't care; all you needed in this moment was Rhea, and for the first time in a long time things felt...okay. All because you didn't need to hide anymore.

--- ---

"Y/N, what the hell do you think this is? A game?" Jimmy asked you. As soon as you got backstage with Rhea, your cousins led you into your locker room while The Judgement Day began pestering Rhea. You sat on the couch as your cousins and Paul stood in front of you; your family watched you in anger, while the Wise Man was in disbelief.

You crossed your arms before answering Jimmy. "I never said this was a game." You said. "I don't get why this is such a big deal! We wouldn't have this issue if you guys would just let us do what we wanted to do!"

Paul moved to sit across from you. He was someone who always tried to butter you up and appeal to your senses, but he wasn't going to win this. "It's not that we don't want you to." He said softly. "Your cousins want you to be happy. The Tribal Chief wants you to be happy." You rolled her eyes and looked away from Paul. "But being happy is not always what's best for your tribe."

Paul's words made your blood boil. "Well sometimes the tribe doesn't always need to come first." You said, standing up and grabbing your bag. "We'll talk about this later. But just so you guys know, I'm not giving up on Rhea just because you guys can't get along with The Judgement Day." Before anyone else could say anything, you left the room and walked to the parking lot where Rhea was waiting for you at her rental.

She looked up from where she leaned against the side of the car, and she immediately wrapped her arms around you in a hug. "The boys finished your tongue lashing?" Rhea teased softly.

You chuckled against her neck and breathed in her scent. "More like I cut it short." You mumbled, pulling back to give her a kiss. "I take it your boys weren't thrilled either?"

Rhea hummed and gave you another kiss. "They'll survive." She chuckled. "I'm done talking about them though. Tonight's about us." She opened the car door for you, and for the first time since being with Rhea you felt like things were normal...even if your respective factions were anything but thrilled.

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