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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

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You and I - Henry Cavill smut

The one where Henry comes over to fix your computer

Warnings: reader is a henry fan, pandemic theme, lockdown and quarentine-ing, little bit of second-hand embarrassment?, heatwave, henry is feeling deprived in this one, oral sex (f), masturbation (f), dirty talk, brief hairpulling, the name of God in vain, Henry’s monster dick, laughing and teasing while fucking, hand over throat but no actual choking, orgasm control, p in v, unprotected sex

Word count: over 3k, ‘cause I got no chill

A/N: this was inspired by a tik tok someone requested me to write a fic about it. Obviously I took it in a different direction because can I ever follow guidelines? No. I do love this fic, though. Thank you to @lokiscollar for giving this a read for me!

Y/N’s P.O.V

Driving to a secluded location to spend lockdown in felt like a wonderful idea. There was a working wi-fi connection, so I could work remotely from the seashore cabin without any problem whatsoever, and the view was obviously to die for.

I did not expect someone else to have the same idea as me. The cabin next door had been occupied on the same day that I arrived, and much to my surprise, I recognized my new neighbor as someone I never expected I’d come to meet in my entire life: an actor. An actor I actually had a crush on.

Thankfully, the situation didn’t exactly call for mingling. I ran off to hide inside my cottage as soon as I realized who he was, occupying myself with fixing everything for the next day instead of daydreaming about the man next-door.

There would be time for that later, once I got in bed. But weirdly enough, that was the only time I really thought about him during those first weeks of quarantine. Every once in a while I’d get the random wave of curiosity about what he was doing - what did Henry Cavill get up to while spending lockdown by himself? But that was pretty much it.

I woke up every day, had breakfast, worked and then went to bed. Sometimes I’d sit by the balcony and watch the birds fly, taking in the scenery and breathing in the salty water. Even as a kid, I’d always loved the sea. It was comforting, so it made sense for me to turn to it in such a stressful time.

Sometimes I’d hear a bark or two, reminding me of the man who was staying in the other cabin, and it made me smile. I always did like his dog, whenever I saw pictures of him.

I hoped they were alright and that the absence of any human contact wasn’t getting to them, even though it was getting to me. I could feel my own social abilities - which weren’t exactly stellar before - slowly becoming decrepit, and I was scared to think of what my first human interaction would be like once lockdown was over.

I just hadn’t anticipated it would be come so soon.

The morning began as it usually would. I took my shower, I had my breakfast, and I sat in front of the computer with my coffee in hands, ready to start working for the day.

Only the computer wasn’t ready for it, too.

“What?” I talked to myself - something that had become more usual the longer lockdown went on. “Oh, no, no, no…” The situation was looking drearier the longer I stared at my lifeless screen.

Looking up at the clock, I considered my options. Even supposing I could get someone to come to this middle of nowhere to fix it, there was no way I’d be able to get it done before work started.

Sighing, I pushed away from my designated desk to call my boss. Thankfully, he understood and I was left to repair the damn thing and come up with a solution for the next day.

My heart ached at the prospect of having to abandon my refuge because of an electronic malfunction. And that is, if there even was anyone willing to fix the damn thing, considering the pandemic and the rules of social distancing. That’s when suddenly, an idea popped up.

I remembered all the fuss a few months back over a video of Henry assembling a computer all by himself. There was no way someone with that much hardware prowess couldn’t at least know enough to fix this simple laptop.

With that thought in mind, I gathered all of my courage to leave my little shack and make my way to the neighboring cabin. I took a deep breath before knocking on the door, and after a few seconds of silence - he was probably surprised and certainly not expecting anyone - a voice sounded from within.

“Who is it?” Now, I had thought this through. If this man came as far as I had come to this damn forgotten town, it was because 1) he wanted peace and quiet and 2) he was as terrified of the virus as I was. So I knew what I needed to say - what I would like to hear if the roles were reversed.

“It’s your neighbor. My name’s Y/N. I’m so sorry to disturb, but my computer broke and I need it to work and you’re the only person I’m 100% sure has been socially distancing for long enough not to put my life in risk.” After all, I would have seen if someone had come to visit him. I didn’t need to say this because both of us knew it. “Would you pretty pretty please come and check it out?”

Silence followed my question and I sighed, rubbing my sweaty forehead as I knew this was a long-shot. “I understand if you’re unable or uncomfortable doing so, I just figured I’d ask. Thanks anyway!”

I had already turned my back to his front door when I heard it swinging open, the pitter patter of paws following close behind. My eyes took in the man in front of me for only a second before looking down at the dog at his feet, head tilted in interest as he analyzed me.

Immediately, my eyes lit up. “Kal!” I exclaimed, kneeling down to let the animal sniff me so I could pet it. My heart stopped working for a second when I realized what I’d done, though.

“Sorry!” I looked up at him from my kneeling position, trying to ignore how awkward it was, considering what I was close to. “I-I do know who you are, I’m not gonna lie about that.”

I straightened up as he kept looking at me in a way I couldn’t quite define. Neither could I determine how it made me feel, just that it made me avert my gaze so I’d stare at my feet.

“So… Are you gonna help me?” He chuckled at my question, closing the door behind him and taking a step in my direction, making me fumble as I instinctively stepped back.

“Sure.” It was the first thing he spoke to me, but we walked back to my own place in silence. He had his hands in his pockets as Kal followed us closely, his tongue hanging outside his mouth as he happily explored the outside for this little while. “Come on in.”

The way the cottage was set up left little space for him to wonder where he should be helping me. The desk in which I had prepared my set-up stood right by the wall to our left, and there he went without me having to point it out.

I watched a drop of sweat roll down the nape of his neck and fall under his tank top, distracting me as I licked my lips at the sight of it. Then his head turned to look at me and I realized that he was waiting for an answer to a question I hadn’t heard.

“Yeah, huh?” He chuckled again, making my face feel warm - an not (only) because of the overwhelming heat.

“Is it okay if I disconnect the wi-fi?” I wave my hand dismissively, shrugging.

“As long as you’re able to fix this, you can do whatever the hell you want.” I got the impression that I amused him, but he didn’t say anything else as he got to work on my (seemingly) dead computer.

Minutes went by of complete silence, safe from the sounds of typing and metal as Henry worked on the machine and I tried not to bite my nails. Finally, he pulled away from the screen and put his hands on his hips as if assuming some sort of decided stance - but if it was a good or bad thing, I couldn’t tell.

“Tell me, doctor.” I asked, pushing myself away from the sofa to approach him. The smell of a man’s sweat really had no right to be this arousing. “Is it life or death?” Henry turned to stare at me with a quirked eyebrow, and in the seconds it took for him to answer, I was once again distracted by just how hot he was.

“Sorry, what?” I asked when he became silent and I realized he’d asked me something I hadn’t heard once more. His smile said he was annoyed and entertained at the same time. “Sorry, you’re hot, it’s hot, and I can’t think straight,” I sighed, brushing the hair away from my eyes as I pressed my palms against them, trying to pull myself together.

“I swear to God, I’m not crazy.” I tried to look him directly as I said that, but was surprised at what I saw when our gazes met. There was a peculiar sense of yearning that he exuded, something I couldn’t quite place but that took my breath away all the same, especially when he took my silence as an invitation to invade my personal space.

“If you want me so badly, all you have to do is ask.” Silence fell heavily and I was out of breath just from his words - not a good sign. My throat felt dry, too dry, so I swiped my tongue over my bottom lip as I struggled to say something.

“W-why, though?” He tilted his head to the side, eyes inscrutable while he judged my question, trying to understand where it came from just like I was trying to understand his interest in me, when he suddenly smiled.

“I figured it’s a nice way for you to pay me back.” It took me a second to understand what he was referring to, and then my eyes darted from the computer to him, my mouth falling open in offense until he started chuckling. “I’m joking!” But even so, the question remained…

“Sweetheart…” He spoke, voice low and velvety as two strong hands suddenly enveloped my hips. “You’re seriously underestimating how hot you are.” I didn’t know what to say, so I had to make sure I’d hear him right.

“M-me?” A predatory smirk took over his face, slowly. I gulped under its intensity, feeling much like prey as he started to back me against the couch. I fell on top of it with a gasp, and another one escaped me when he used my ankles to pull me closer.

“I wanna eat you out.” It was all I got as an answer, but I can’t say that I minded it. As he dropped to his knees before me, pulling down my underwear before spreading my legs for his eyes to take in, it felt like I got a response from the gesture in itself.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I ate pussy?” The unexpected question made me choke on my own saliva, as he chuckled darkly in amusement at my bashfulness. I could only breathe through my mouth when he leaned down to run his tongue on the edge of my lips, slowly acquainting himself with my taste, making me moan softly.

“I-I definitely and decidedly don’t.” He seemed to like this answer, understand that it delimited exactly the type of fan that I was: the kind that knew what he was and what he liked - his dog, his computer - but not someone who was obsessed with his entire dating history, eager to know his every secret.

The longer Henry ate me out, the clearer it became just how long it’d been since he’d done this. It was obviously something he liked - the way he buried his face against my cunt and engulfed it entirely with his open mouth showed so. And the fact that he licked me and sucked me like he was a starved man? This was a man denied of a pleasure he genuinely enjoyed, that much I was certain of.

“Do you like this?” He asked once he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of me, already stretching me beyond what I could do with my own hand.

“How could I not?” I managed to moan a response, making him chuckle.

“Show me how to find it,” he instructed, eyes sparkling with determination. “I want to find your sweet spot.” I’d never had someone I was with so interested in giving me pleasure before.

Hypnotized, my fingers circled his wrist as best as I could, slowly moving him to run his digits over the top of my channel. He knew when he found it because I cried out for him, closing my eyes momentarily.

“Cum for me,” he ordered, and how could I deny him that, especially when he was looking at me with those darkened eyes? He milked my orgasm until my pussy had stopped clenching around him, but the second that it was done, he growled, getting up to his knees. “Gonna fuck you now.”

He pulled me by my hair, making me moan out loud as he slowly inserted his monster cock inside of me. “Oh, God!” His groan had me panting, cunt clenching around his thickness. I couldn’t understand how I was able to take it, but I was glad that was the case. “So… tight…”

Through his grip on my hair, he pulled me to deposit quick kisses down my jaw. “You take me so well, darling.” It was a compliment I was proud to receive, even though I wasn’t too sure how I managed to earn it in the first place.

“I honestly don’t know how,” I admitted, gasping when he slowly dragged his cock out to slam it in me, but I instinctively pulled my hips away, earning an amused chuckle from him.

“Come back here,” he ordered, already pulling me back to spear me with his painfully hard length. I’d have to be inhuman not to cry out at the feeling of his bulbous head bumping against my cervix. “Are you scared?” He joked as I bit on my bottom lip not to give in and laugh. “You think I’m too big?”

“You’re more than enough, I’ll tell you that.” Now, that had his own laugh escaping his chest, making my body tremble underneath his, inadvertently getting some friction between the both of us. It earned me a moaned out, “Yes…” that got his attention back to where I hoped it would be, and as his eyes settled on me, I briefly wondered if I was prepared for what was to come.

“But now that you got all of me inside of you, do you really want to go?” The whispered question made me shiver. I never expected him to be the type to talk dirty, but then again, I never expected I’d be fucked by him, either.

“No.” It was all the permission he needed.

“Then let me fuck you hard.” And hard he did fuck me. He was hard inside of me, it probably would have been painful for him if he wasn’t so desperately trying to alleviate it by frantically fucking me against the couch.

It was the most deliciously torturous experience I’d ever gone through. I had to bite my lip while I held onto his shoulders for dear life, trying to stop my moans from escaping because I was sure that for once, I’d become a screamer.

Unfortunately, it seemed like Henry didn’t appreciate my efforts to keep his ears from deafening. “What’s wrong?” He questioned, fingers tightening on my hips. “I thought you wanted this.”

Confused, all I could think to say was, “I-I do.”

“Then let me hear you,” he insisted. “You know you can scream all you want. We’re all alone up here on the coast.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. And with that reassurance, I allowed my head to fall back and my mouth to fall open, my moans flowing freely from my body as Henry kept fucking me.

“This is so much better than touching myself in search of a release,” he mumbled at some point, like he was talking to himself. “I was so damn lonely and you have such a tight little pussy.”

Being fucked by him felt like a religious experience. Henry somehow knew the map to my pleasure, easily bringing me to the brink of bliss before I had even managed to wrap my head around this turn of events.

My moans grew louder as I climbed higher and higher, but before I could fully tip over his hand curled around my throat, not constricting any air, just calling my attention.

“Ask for permission, baby.” Just the order had me clenching around him, prompting him to release a moan of his own. All the while, I was groaning in frustration, trying to control myself or say what he wanted me to say, but all that came out of me was, “Goddamn! You can’t say stuff like that.” Henry’s laughter flowed freely once more, making my heart skip a beat. “Why not?”

“Because you’re a fucking movie star and I am not up to fall in love with you.” That had his eyebrows raising in surprise, the smile disappearing from his face before it came back as a teasing smirk.

“Oh, so this is a one-time thing.” The taunting manner in which he said it surprised me in turn, so I hesitated before nodding. I mean, of course it was, right? He didn’t even know me. This was strictly sexual and physical, I would not be fooled by my own hormones. “My cock is not enough for you to want to get to know me some is that it?” … Was he testing me?

“Yes.” His smirk only grew at the word. “This is a one-time thing.”

“We’ll see about that.” His fingers ran down my body to graze over my clit. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep it in, knowing I was going to lose. Eventually, as my thighs began to tremble, I gave in altogether.

“Please, let me cum, please.” His eyes softened at my broken and desperate plea, hand gripping my cheeks as he finally nodded.

“Keep staring at me as you cum,” he commanded, still just as bossy. “Show me how pretty you look when you cream all over my dick.” That was all I needed to succumb to the pleasure he was subjecting me to.

I felt his cock, still hard as it pumped rope after rope of cum inside of me, and by the time I was able to open my eyes again, he was panting over me, sweat dripping from his forehead onto my face.

I didn’t have the time to think about what I should do - push him away, try to pretend this didn’t happen - because the second I began to adjust on the couch, he pulled me to rest against his chest.

“Let’s stay here for a little while,” he quietly asked me. “Then we’ll figure out if there’s enough room for me to take you in your bed.”

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brattyfics · 3 years

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Like That

Pairing: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: You and Rio get to know each other better. Loosely based on ‘Like That’ by Doja Cat.

Warnings: Smut.

Word Count: 3.5K

Installments: Say So | Like That | Talk Dirty

And baby, I want it, and I'll just be honest 'Cause I just can't front when I look at you

About six weeks have passed since Rio declared himself your man, and you quickly learned he took the title very seriously.

He was busier than usual with ‘flipping his game,’ and you were busy preparing to transition your shop, but you saw each other often despite time constraints. You agreed date nights at least once a week were a must, but when you couldn’t see each other, Rio made sure to end nights with a phone call. Virtually falling asleep next to him gave you butterflies, reminding you just how exciting new relationships could be. It took prodding, but he told you made-up bedtime stories and the boring details of his day. In return, you shared things about yourself— childhood memories, the crazy things your mom did to embarrass you. He was sweet and attentive, and you found it refreshing to be with someone who was just as infatuated with you.

On your second date, he took you to his favorite restaurant, a fancy sushi place with expensive rolls. He taught you to hold chopsticks the wrong way the way he did and even fed you across the small table, a couple of unfortunate rolls falling apart due to his prodding. You tried your best to hide your amusement at the pensive look on his face. For whatever reason, Rio thought of himself as a sushi connoisseur, but it was clear to you that he was still learning.

“You’re no better than me!” He admonished when he noticed the way you held your chopsticks. Like his technique, it was incorrect, but it worked for you— sort of. “I never said I was.” You couldn’t keep the amusement off your face any longer. “You’re the one who comes here weekly. I thought you were a professional, and we’re in the same boat.” He folded his arms on top of the table as he insisted you were wrong, but secretly he found your teasing endearing. Later that night, he called and gave you a cheesy line about loving to see you smile.

The following week, you had lunch at a mom-and-pop soul food restaurant that served the best cornbread and peach cobbler in the city. The owners, an adorable older couple, Donna and Gene, and servers alike stopped by your table to meet Rio. Donna gushed over Rio, showering him with compliments and extra cornbread. “Girl, he is cute!” She told you, failing miserably at whispering. He smirked as you rolled your eyes, but he handled the attention well, being friendly and personable even when Gene kept going on and on about changes to the menu, one chef to another.

A few days later, he called you up randomly and asked you to get ready and ride with him somewhere. “What should I wear?” You asked, hoping for a hint. You could hear him smile as he said, “It doesn’t even matter, ma. You always look good.” The occasion had turned out to be ‘Foodtruck Friday.’ Barbecue, kebab, taco, ice cream, and other miscellaneous food trucks were parked in a spacious lot in Downtown Detroit. You settled at a picnic table and shared several plates of food as you discussed the possibility of your own mobile ‘Mad Batter’ shop somewhere down the line. It got you thinking about the future.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?” You asked the dreaded question in between bites of a colorful Korean fusion taco. He stiffened as he considered the answer. “What is this, a job interview?” Sometimes you saw peeks of bossman Rio rather than the Christopher Castillo you were getting to know. It happened seemingly out of nowhere when you asked questions he felt were invasive.

You looked up from the panko-fried shrimp, red cabbage, shredded carrots, and tasty orange sauce wrapped up in a flour tortilla with a frown. You had two choices: respond in the way he had or make light of the situation. So, you said, “Kinda. You’re auditioning for a spot on my roster, so...”

He stopped chewing the half-eaten dumpling and swallowed hard. “That’s not funny.”

“You better start taking the interviewing part of the audition more seriously then.” You wiped your fingers on a napkin, and he gathered your hand in his own, wearing a look you couldn’t decipher. “You got it, ma.”

You played a game of mini-golf at the local arcade. Rio stood tall behind you, holding you by your hips as he corrected your stance. You purposefully arched your back, brushing against him just slightly. “Like this?” You looked over your shoulder with the most innocent look you could muster, but his eyes were glued to your ass. “Yeah, just like that.” He answered in a low tone without looking up. You giggled as you took your swing, adding a wiggle for his benefit. You pretended to care about the ball as it glided across the bright green tarp towards the hole. “How was that?” You chirped, looking down the lane.

“I can’t even lie. I don’t care about the game right now. I just wanna watch you.” Your aim was terrible, and the ball never went in the hole without several attempts, but he insisted you finish playing the course. You teased him about it for days after despite his claim that he actually enjoyed the game because it was one of Marcus’ favorites.

“Stop lying! You just wanted an excuse to openly watch my ass.”

“Why you always gotta call me out?”

You shopped a cozy health and wellness store with hundreds of cool little trinkets for sale. Neither of you had been there before, so you took your time exploring, stealing unexpected kisses from the other. Rio took full advantage of the size of the store, pulling you by the hand and holding you close to his side.

He frowned at the large collection of shiny crystals. “A rock, really? What does anybody need with a rock?”

“It’s not a rock!” You hissed, head whipping around as you hoped the owner didn’t hear him.

“What is it then? It looks like a rock to me.” He picked one up, turning it over in his hands.

“It’s a crystal!”

“What’s the difference?”

“It has healing properties...” Rio snorted but strung his arm across your shoulder and listened intently as you read the info cards to him. When it was all said and done, he bought an aventurine stone to apologize to the owner for prosperity, well-being, and good luck.

The next day, he disappeared with no warning. You had been worried sick until Mick let you know he was busy handling something. It would have only taken a minute to tell you that, so you were (understandably) pissed. He showed up at the shop several days later like nothing had ever happened. “What’s up, mama?” The greeting that usually melted you grated on your nerves. All of your feelings about the situation bubbled up to the surface. It was hard to find the right words— you were still getting to know each other, so how mad could you be? At the same time, how little did he think of you to not say anything? Finally, you settled on, “I can’t do the disappearing act.”

Rio wasn’t used to answering to anyone, not even his child’s mother, about his whereabouts, but he put his palms up in surrender when he saw the serious expression you wore.

“You’re right, mama. That’s my bad. It won’t happen again.”

And it hadn’t.

But knowing ahead of time only made it a tiny bit easier, especially when he didn’t have a set return date. You were going on day seven (the longest you had gone without seeing him since you started dating) when he called to say he made it home and wanted to see you. Your heavy heart swelled with relief. You missed him way more than you probably should have, so you insisted on a night in at your place, wanting him to feel relaxed and at home instead of on guard somewhere public.

It had been a long six weeks without sex while he romanced you with delicious food and beautiful words. It wasn’t an easy task, but you knew as soon as sex was thrown in the mix, you would be done for, either destined to be his or ruined by him. It was a scary thought, but distance had indeed made the heart grow fonder, and you cared about him enough to take a chance.

He was set to arrive within the hour, but you were still unsure of what to wear, frantically rummaging through the dresser for something cute and comfortable. You let out a frustrated groan when your phone started to ring, thinking Rio might have come early, but when you look down at your phone, you see your best friend’s name and face. You swipe quickly, accepting the FaceTime call. “Hey, girl!”

“Hey, stranger!” You pick up the phone, so you can look at her. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” She replies with just as much sass. “I haven’t talked to you in what— two weeks?”

“We talk—“

“—text.”

“Okay, fine. Text. We text every day. What are you talking about?”

“That’s not the same.” She insists even as you remind her of the ridiculous amount of time you spend trading memes and food pictures with her.

“Anyway, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to decide what I’m going to wear between this, this, or this.” You move the camera around, showing her the different options. A black-and-white tank and short set with ‘Being cute is not a crime’ in a cute font. A fuzzy grey sweatsuit set with hearts, or a simple cream hoodie with matching shorts.

“Um, what’s the occasion?” You giggle at the look on her face, knowing she thinks none of the above are appropriate for wearing outside of the house.

“Movie night in.”

“You need help picking an outfit for movie night with yourself?” Her face scrunches up in confusion. “Wait, is it movie night with yourself?” You try to be casual about it, shrugging your shoulders in response. As usual, she sees through your bullshit and goes straight into an interrogation. “Oh, bitch. You been holding out on me!” She asks you five questions in a row without stopping to breathe before settling on one. “Who?”

You gnaw on your bottom lip. “...Rio.”

“Rio?” She frowns. “Like the guy we work for, Rio? With the eyebrows and the neck tattoo, Rio?”

“Yes, that Rio.”

“Wow.” You wince but decide it’s best to get it over with. “What? I know you, so I know there’s more where that came from.”

“I don’t know what to say! From what I can tell, he’s a decent dude, I guess, but you know what he does. You definitely know what we do for him! You don’t think that could be a problem?”

“It’s messy, for sure, and I can admit that, but I’ve been thinking about getting out anyway...” She nods. “Then, I guess there’s nothing else for me to say about that. You’re both grown, and you know what you’re doing.” She was your best friend, which meant she’d always give her honest opinion, but wouldn’t berate you about your choices. Just like that, you return to your regular discussion topics, everything from warehouse gossip (yes, even in the business of crime, there’s a rumor mill) to new music releases. Before you knew it, forty minutes had passed, and Rio was calling your phone. You promised to call her more often before hanging up.

You sing your ‘hello’ into the phone, hoping Rio can’t detect the shakiness in your voice as you clumsily pull on your bottoms.

“Hey, mama. You about ready? I know you’re sensitive about your space and all that.” He was referring to the fact that he had never been past the doorway of your home. Your home was your sacred place, so you were extra careful about who came in and what energy they brought. It was always nerve-wracking to let somebody into the space that you cherished so much.

“Yeah.” He picks up on the hesitancy in your voice. “Are you sure?” You nod your head as if he can see you before telling him yes with a giggle. “Alright, well, I’m outside. Can I come in?” You bite your lip, butterflies fluttering in your tummy. “Yeah, I’ll come unlock the door.” He whispers his thanks, and you take a moment to force yourself to relax. When you meet him at the door, you do so with an open mind and heart, taking in his appearance with a goofy grin on your face. As usual, he’s dressed in all black, wearing a well-fitted t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s casual but still so high quality and attractive.

“Hi.” You breathe out like a dork when you realize you’re staring. It helps that he seems just as mesmerized, stepping forward to envelop you in a tight, warm hug. He sways you from side to side before pulling back, his hands resting heavily on the top of your ass. He settles for a quick peck on the lips because he has something to say. “You’re as pretty as ever, darlin’.” He says earnestly, shaking his head as he steps back to look you over once more.

“Kiss me again.” His hands cup your ass as you devour each other in the open doorway. You forget your surroundings. “Damn, ma. Can I at least get inside before you jump my bones? I don’t mind giving your neighbors a show if that’s your thing, but…” You turn to hide your embarrassment, leaving him to close the door behind you as you gesture around the room as if you’re in an episode of MTV Cribs. “... here’s the living room. The kitchen’s through the arch. The bathroom’s over there...” He follows you with his red as you point.

“And the bedroom?”

You snort. “The tour stops here for now. Sit down.” Your tone leaves no room for argument. He settles into the soft couch while you grab the snack tray from the kitchen. Homemade popcorn, chocolate-covered pretzels, and dried fruit gummies are on the menu.

“All this for me?” His arms snake around your waist so that you can curl up into his side. “What we watching?” You grab the remote. “I saw a trailer this week that caught my attention. I’ll play it for you.” He didn’t care what you watched as long as he got to be close to you, so it didn’t take long for you to get the movie started. He stole glances at you when his knuckles brushed against your bare knees under the blanket. You’re embarrassed at how wet the small action makes you, so you stretch out across the couch and place your bare feet in his lap, silently planning your revenge. The movie may as well not be playing because you couldn’t be less interested in the plot as you lightly stroke him through his sweatpants with the balls of your feet.

“Ma...” He warns, watching you in the low lighting. He’s come to learn you like to tease, but he doesn’t think he can take it, not tonight. “Hmm?” You hum innocently, loving the strained look on your face. He doesn’t move even as you sit up on your haunches and kiss him. It’s slow and long in the best way. He pulls you to sit in his lap. His hands roam your body as you grind down onto him, relishing in the feeling of the soft skin on your tummy. He sighs into your mouth as one hand finds your bare breasts.

He pulls away to talk shit. “No bra? You just knew I was gonna put out, huh?” He pushes the cotton material up so he can see you properly. “Perfect.” He murmurs into your skin. You let him kiss and lick and suck on your nipples until the pressure you feel below is too much to handle. You’re a quivering mess when he finally helps you pull the cotton material up and over your head. It lands on top of the television behind you, but neither of you notice.

You nudge him until he removes his own shirt, and then he lifts his hips to help you when you begin tugging on his sweats. They puddle at his feet while you spread your legs wide, desperate to get your hands on him. “I could cry right now.” You admit honestly when you finally see him, biting your lip. He arches a brow. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing, darlin’?” His hips jerk when you take him into your hands, the cold temperature surprising him.

“It’s definitely a good thing.” You whisper excitedly, staring with wonder as he hardens in your hands. He barks out a laugh, stunned by your ability to make him laugh, even with his dick in your hands. “That’s really nice, ma. I feel real special.” Your eyes meet, and silent promises of all the filthy things you’re going to do to each other are exchanged. “You should. I’m about to change your life.” He throbs in your hands, loving that you find small ways to challenge him.

“Come on. Let’s go to bed.” He wraps his arms around you in preparation to get up, but you stop him with a shake of your head. “I don’t wanna.”

“No? What you wanna do then?”

You answer him by slipping to your knees. You spit on his dick, stroking him up and down slowly. He watches you closely as you lower your mouth, wrapping your lips around the tip. It takes a lot of restraint, but he lets you do your thing, slowly working him deeper into your throat. He closes his eyes as he concentrates on lasting, but he can’t turn his ears off, the obscene smacks painting a vivid picture for him. When you swipe your tongue across his balls, he moves to stop you, grabbing your shoulders. Fire dances in your eyes as you realize you got him where you want him. “I don’t wanna.” You repeat.

“You are a brat.”

You release him with a pop. “The biggest.” You admit, swallowing him once more. He groans, thinking he can’t believe you’re the same sweet girl who bakes in a frilly pink apron and begs him to tell her bedtime stories.

“I want you to fuck me now.” He stops you before you can bend over the couch. “Slow down. I want you on your back, darlin.”

You throw his earlier words back at him. “That’s nice. I feel really special.”

“You should.” He mocks you, instructing you to hold your legs wide. He wastes no time licking and sucking you as enthusiastically as you had done him. “You’re so pretty. I could eat this pretty pussy forever.” He compliments as you squirm in his hold. “You’d let me, huh?” You shake your head frantically. “No! You’d drive..me crazy!” Payback is a mother, especially when Rio’s the one dishing it out. “Wait, wait—“You whimper, clawing at his shoulders.

“What?” He cajoles. He almost wants to laugh at the distressed look on your face. “I want you.” You pout, trying to sweet-talk him.

“You have me.”

“Not like this. Inside.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Mhm.” You swallow, watching as he fumbles around with his pants searching for a condom. He opens the golden foil packet with expert fingers, positioning himself in between your spread legs. “You don’t have any pointers for me now?” He drags his tip up and down your slit, slowly pushing his way further. Teasing. You shake your head. “No. Just fuck me.”

“That ain’t polite. You gotta say please, mama.” You scowled, but he didn’t budge. “Please.” You pleaded with the sweetest tone you could muster, sighing as he gave in. You cursed at the stretch, him at the way you squeezed him. “You feel…” He couldn’t find the words, so he buried his face in your neck, trying to gain some composure. You caressed the back of his neck sweetly. “You feel good too, baby.”

His hips stuttered forward, and you gasped as he worked himself deeper. You grasp his shoulders tightly, your nails embedding themselves into the soft skin.

“Yes!” You squeal.

“Like that?” He grits out, struggling to keep his rhythm.

“Yes, just like that!” You cry, moaning as he pounds up into you. His lips find yours again, and it’s bliss. Then before you can stop yourself, you’re calling him Daddy like it’s his given name. He groans into your sweaty neck like he’s in pain.

“You’re so nasty.” Overwhelmed and breathless, you whine your protest, “You’re nasty. Look at what you’re doing to me.” His eyes shift to where you’re connected. You’re creaming all over him and leaking down onto the couch, but you can’t bring yourself to care about anything other than coming. You do just that, mewling as you make an even bigger mess between your legs. He whispers filthy things into your ear as he finishes, grunting at the way you seem to be sucking him in even deeper.

“That was—“

“—unreal.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you can bring yourself to move. Your sweat-covered skin sticks together. You swipe your hand against your forehead while he pants.

“I wanted to ride you at least once tonight, but after that, I’ll be lucky to make it to bed.”

GENERAL TAGLIST

@woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @sheeshgivemeabreak @breakingnewsin-no-oneasked @angelreyesgirl @blessedboo @glimmerglittergirl @apantherinmypastlife @brownsugarcoffy @marvelmaree @starrynite7114 @scuzmunkie @thewarriorprincessxo @sadeyesgf @pearlkitten33 @imanerdychubbyqueen @literaturefeen @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @everyhowlmarksthedead @yourwonkywriter @trulysuccubus @sparklemichele @luckyharley1903

RIO TAGLIST

@xsweetdellzx

#good girls rio #nbc good girls #manny montana #rio x reader #rio x black!reader

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lilevixen · 3 years

Note

heyyy, idk if u write bertholdt or are even taking requests, but if u are can i request giving bertholdt an orgasm denial from a f!reader and it’s been like 3 hours that he’s had to hold it? thanks if u can :)

sweet boy

Characters: sub!Bertholdt Hoover x dom!female bodied reader

Genre: smut

Word Count: 1.9k

Description: Reader teaches Bertholdt a lesson after he gets a bit too touchy with them in front of their friends

•WARNING- 18+ CONTENT: orgasm denial, no-contact orgasm, descriptions of oral sex (male receiving), dacryphilia(ish?)•

“Baby, please, I said I was s-sorry!” Bertholdt whined from across the room for what felt like the millionth time that evening. You casted a look of faux boredom over your shoulder from your small wooden desk, trying your best to remain blasé at the mouth-watering sight of your boyfriend still sat criss-cross applesauce completely bare on the bed. He was so good for you, so obedient; his arms never once left from behind his back for entirety of the time you had him there. How long did you have him there? After you two got back from the dining hall, minutes easily spilled into hours in the smudgy haze of repressed lust you had established. The only indicator of how long Berthodlt had been sitting there for, cock upright and twitching for attention, was how absolutely worn out he looked. Every inch of his deep, tan skin was glittering with sweat, cords of muscle in his thighs and abdomen strained beneath his flesh so severely they looked like they could snap any second, his chest heaved erratically as if he had just run a marathon- this was absolute torture for him, you could tell. You would’ve felt bad, if he hadn’t disobeyed you in the first place.

“Huh? I was reading, sweetie. I didn’t hear you,” a bald-faced lie on your part. Your eyes kept tracking over the same paragraph over and over again without absorbing any of the information in your brain, the sweet pleas of your boyfriend claiming all the space in your mind instead. His lip quivered at your persistence in feigning ignorance of his situation and tears quickly filled his dark eyes.

“P-Please! Can you please t-touch me? I need you so bad I think I might e-explode,” he stammered out, his voice meek but desperate, shameless, so needy and you felt it throb between your legs, adding to the arousal already collecting along your inner thighs. Despite how incredibly turned on you were, you let out a slow sigh hiss past your lips as if you were getting irritated.

“Well, you got to touch me plenty, sweets. In front of everyone, just like I asked you not to,” excitement overtook your annoyance some time ago, but what you brought up was a genuine point of contention. From the very beginning you made it clear you wanted your relationship to be private. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of him or anything, you just hated all the unnecessary attention couples garnered, all the mindless gossip and speculation of who plays what role, the whispers, the stares. And once Bertholdt had gotten comfortable with you, always seeking your touch like a love sick little puppy, you knew this was something that needed to be discussed. He agreed at the time, ‘if it means I get to be with you, I guess it’s okay,’ he said, but as things progressed he would give away your relationship in little ways. At first it was just the way he would look at you (which was only natural given your feeling for each other, you supposed), staring at your lips for a little too long when you spoke, a little twinkle of fondness in his warm eyes. You let this slide, because it was minimal and no one seemed to notice. But slowly, he started doing more and more things that you had to call him out on, resting his head on your shoulder, using his thumb to tenderly swipe crumbs of food off your face, nearly calling you baby- until finally, tonight in the dining hall while having supper with your friends, he practically announced you two were together by kissing your hand when you burnt it on a scalding bowl of soup. Porco was too involved with his food to notice, but you could feel Reiner and Annie’s eyes hovering over you as if you were an alien. Too embarrassed to handle their reactions, you excused yourself to your room and quickly left before they even had a chance to say anything, Bertholdt obviously right on your heels. He tried to embrace you and kiss you and apologize to make it all better, but his penchant for physical affection was what got you in this situation in the first place. So that’s when you decided to give him a little time-out. Even though, your edge was starting to wear down after hearing him whine out for you for so long.

“I know! I-I just don’t like seeing you get hurt! I didn’t think they were looking at us, I’m sorry Y/N!” he choked out, squirming against the air as if that would provide some sort of relief. “I’m s-so hard for you it feels like ‘m gonna pass out.”

“Oh really? And what do you want me to do about that?” You asked in a snarky tone to mask the unadulterated lust pulsing through you, going back to fake-reading your text book.

“I want you to touch me! I want to feel you, any part of you, until I cum over and over…” you could hear the thought in his voice as he got lost in what he was describing, and you didn’t need to turn around to know he was biting his lip with his head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut and brows knitted. Another hot rush of arousal swirled in deep in your stomach.

“You know I can’t do that, baby,” you said against your own body’s command.

“Y-Yes you can! I promise I��ll be good from now on, I w-won’t hold your hand or kiss you or hug you in front of anyone again! Just please, I need you Y/N,” maybe it was your own excitement, or how fucking good he sounded begging for you like a pitiful little boy, but this finally broke your resolve. It would be cruel to let him stay there like that all night, anyway. You pushed yourself out of your seat and made your way to Berthdolt’s trembling form on the bed. Even you just getting closer to him caused his heavy breathing to pick up pace.

“How do you want me, my sweet boy?” you purred, laying down flat on your stomach before his lanky body so that his dick towered above you like a skyscraper.

“A-Any way,” he looked down at you beneath his dark, fluttering lashes, swiveling his hips in anticipation of your touch. You let out a soft scoff.

“Be specific or I can’t help you~,” you said with a sweet lilt in your voice, harsh words laced with honey. His eyes blew open wide at your threat to leave him a writhing, unfulfilled mess for even longer than you already had.

“Can you take me in your mouth? Please?” A new wave of blush spread across his cheeks as he said this, and you couldn’t help but smile at how cute he was.

“There you go, baby,” you giggled. You guided your featherlight fingertips along the slick muscle of his thighs, causing him to tense up immediately, and you could actually see the thrum of his heartbeat racing beneath his skin in faint flits. He was so sensitive by now you didn’t doubt he would explode just like he said before. Your fingers playfully walked along the slope of his legs, working their way inwards, and you teased them to a gradual stop mere inches from where he needed you most. He was panting like a dog at this point, chest rising and falling violently as he looked down at you, jaw slack and eyes cloudy with frustrated tears.

“You’ve been waiting for this, huh?” You dragged your tongue along your lower lip and leaned in close to his pulsating cock so that your breath fanned across his shaft, digging your fingers into the tendons of his inner thigh. He gasped, the shock of you finally gracing him with some sort of stimulation overwhelming his worked-up body, and a throb of pleasure shot through his dick with such alarming intensity that you could see it expand in his veins and swell at the tip. You blinked up at him, a bit startled yourself. He was so close already and you barely even touched him… Maybe you didn’t even need to touch him.

“U-Uhuh!” He nodded frantically, tears now spilling down his flushed face and drool dribbling down his chin; the sight would’ve been sad if it wasn’t so fucking hot. You massaged your fingertips into the thin, sweat-slicked skin on either side of his balls and slowly moved your lips upwards so that they were ghosting the hot, leaking head of his penis. His whole body shuddered underneath you, hips eagerly twitching to meet your lips, but only mildly, timidly, making it clear he was still completely under your control.

“I bet you’ve been imagining this for so long, my lips around your cock, feeling me squeeze you in my throat,” you hummed, your lips just barely brushing his dickhead as you spoke, and to him the vibration of your voice and the warm flutters of your breath against him felt just as sensational as the euphoric grip of your walls after hours of waiting for any kind of attention. This was exactly what you suspected, what you were hoping. He was such a desperate mess that he could get off to just your words and proximity. “Can you feel it? My pretty little mouth drooling around you?”

“A-Ah! Yes!” He cried out, and his stiff cock slapped against his belly eagerly as if he was truly feeling every bit of what you were describing, hell, even you were starting to feel it from his reactions alone, the ache between your legs growing almost painful.

“Does my sweet boy want to cum down my throat?” You kept steady eye contact with him, savoring every bit of watching him crumble before you, intentionally letting your breath pour past your lips in heavy pants, and he bucked into the air with each puff, his abdomen flexed tight and his thighs shuddering.

“Ahaha y-yes please!” He whimpered, the rhythm of his hips gently rising to meet your breath becoming twitchy and unstable, a clear sign that he was on the brink of long-awaited release. A coy smile played at the ends of your lips as you batted your lashed up at him.

“Then cum for me,” and on command, his whole body convulsed under the weight of sweet, sweet climax, at long last, the hugest load you’d ever seen erupting out of him in thick, hot torrents that sprayed right in his face. You were so proud of him, your poor baby, putting up with your little act for hours on end despite yearning for you so immensely that you didn’t even need to touch his cock for him to bust. He just loved you that much and why exactly? You quite honestly didn’t know. You almost felt the need to apologize for treating him so cruelly, but at the end of the day you were trying to teach him a lesson, and based on how he was looking at you, right eye squeezed shut to prevent cum from getting in his eye, body rattling with exhaustion, it was safe to say he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. The least you could do was help him clean up. You got up on your knees and took his clammy face in your hands, gliding your tongue along his salty skin to get rid of all the cum, saliva, tears- whatever fluids were coating his face. When you were done, you pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you, my sweet boy.”

A/N:

HEYYY LOVELIESSS💓💓 here’s my first official completed request (woohoo)!!! Bertholdt is not usually a character I would accept writing but this request kinda had me GRRRR ya know (thank you for that anon, I truly hope you’ll enjoy this! This was my first time writing orgasm denial too so idk if i did it right NAKWKA)? BUTTT yeah here ya go, bloop ilyyyy

~Bunny

#bertholdt x reader #bertholdt imagines #aot x reader #aot smut #aot x reader smut #bertholdt x reader smut #aot imagines #aot headcanons #bertholdt Hoover #bertholdt hoover x reader #bertholdt smut

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geminil0vr · 3 years

Text

without me? | ron b. weasley (request)

summary; you and ron say goodbye.

tagged; @partr1dge <3

word count; 1.6k

content; this is really fucking sad, arguing, angst galore, making out, mention of horcruxes, no foreplay y'all i'm sorry, unprotected sex (let’s say she’s on birth control), sad sex (smut), riding, fluff/angst.

a/n; i know this is serious but now i can't stop thinking about all those fuckboy memes like "a haha..... fuck, without me?" also this physically hurt me to write !! i'm sorry anon, this is way too sad, and i know you mentioned them having their first time, but i hope you don't mind that i changed the story a little so they were together for the ‘last time’ !!

you and ron had been arguing, and yelling, and crying, for hours now. it wasn't intense, nor heated. it was cold, it was brash, it was heartbreaking and earth-shattering. you could feel a harsh weight in your chest much akin to a gaping hole that made your limbs feel heavy, and your head hot. that made you feel utterly weak. your face felt warm and swollen from all the tears that had run down it, and his cheeks were flushed pink, face blotchy.

you think, now, that you weren't really that angry, just desperate. you just wanted an excuse, to create an argument, an argument that could very well have been your last. and you wanted to make him feel the way that you did, being left here while he went off to get himself killed, at least a little bit. but not too much. merlin, you wouldn't have wished this feeling of hopelessness on anyone else.

ron weasley had a strong heart, so strong that it chipped away at himself with every person he loved. his friends, his family, you.

and he had a strong head on his shoulders, determined, courageous, yet burdened by endless insecurity.

and you loved him.

your voice cracked for what felt like the millionth time, as the argument reached its shallow peak, where you two were just silent, before finding another reason to argue again, "why can't i just go with you, please, ron?"

"you wouldn't be safe! i've told you this, it's bloody dangerous!"

"you say that as if i haven't always gotten you out of something dangerous! i was there when you got those stupid scars up your arms, i was there for you —"

"i know, i know —"

"merlin, ron, i'm always there! i've always been there when you do stupid shit with harry and hermione!" you pointed to your side, as if an invisible audience were observing you, "why on earth is it — is it up to you to decide now that you want to protect me?"

"because i don't want you to get hurt, not because of me!"

"well, you're doing a pretty fucked up job of that."

you both swallowed, then sighed heavily, sitting down on his bed. he sat, hands clasped in his lap, body tensed. you pressed your hands into the mattress, leaning over it and letting your hair fall down into your face. this was so messed up. reaching over silently, without looking up, you took his hand in yours.

"don't go," you croaked, "i love you."

"i love you too." he whispered, not trusting his voice not to crack if he spoke any louder. but he didn't give you an answer. he didn't need to. you both knew there was no turning back on his decision, that it was something he had to do, that it was something you'd have to accept.

sniffling, you finally lifted your head, looking over at him with tears blurring your vision. you picked up his hand in yours, brushing your lips over it, and shutting your eyes.

he took you in his arms, gently grasping your jaw and kissing you softly. when he pulled away, you carefully pushed him back to you, fingers ghosting the nape of his neck as you both tilted your heads, breathing ragged, cheeks wet. you could taste the salt in your mouth as your tongue swiped over his, not in a battle for dominance, but a cautious waltz of need.

you climbed into his lap, bending down to meet his lips, arms wrapped tightly around the nape of his neck, desperate to just be close. he clutched your waist, kissing down your jaw to your neck, not feverishly, tenderly — he wanted to memorise every piece of you, and guard it with his life. for you, he would. for you, it was worth it. it was worth everything.

sliding down your tank top to your hips, he placed more wet kisses to your exposed breasts, paying attention to the way your chest rose and fell, licking over your nipples and suckling gently on the buds as you slowly rolled your hips into his.

you didn't want to think of it as a goodbye. but he'd left you no choice, informing you just a day before his departure that he'd be going to hunt for horcruxes to help his friends. and it was such a selfless thing to do, and it was so ron, running into a battle with no armour on. it was an act of wavering courage. yet you couldn't help but feel fury burst through you, entangling with your worst fears, your pity, your desperation, your sadness.

you wanted to keep ron weasley protected, away from everyone else, away from hurt, away from the trials of life and death. it was unrealistic, but you craved it nonetheless, and you let that want course through your veins, blood burning. you could feel it in your wrists, at your pulse, at your throat, in your stomach, simmering. these were shallow, scalding waters that you waded through, knees giving in, heart giving out.

he moved you to the centre of the bed, taking off his shirt and letting it fall to the ground; you studied him for a moment, broad shoulders, freckled skin — you thought he was beautiful. then you eyed his arms as he leaned over you, covered in deep, white scarring, circling up to his bicep, the cause of the scars even having lashed out at his waist, licks of ivory decorating the sides of his torso. and, pulling your tank top and shorts down, his eyes devoured all the newly exposed skin too.

you didn't speak — you couldn't speak. your hearts were still aching and this was merely a distraction, a last dance.

he trailed desperate kisses down to your waistline, then hooked your panties down, kissing over your inner thighs, making you squirm. then to your hips, and your waist, lengthening the distance between you and what you wanted most.

not wasting another second, he kicked off his own pants and underwear, and slowly dragged the head of his cock over your slit.

he found his voice somewhere, buried in the pit of his stomach.

"are you ready?" he rasped, swallowing.

"mhmm." you nodded, and wrapped your legs around him, hands grasping his shoulders as he eased himself in, just like he'd done many times before.

you groaned quietly together, closing your eyes and savouring the feeling one last time. you clenched tight around him as he set a slow pace, hips gently thrusting against you, both letting little moans slip from your mouths, throats dry from all the shouting and crying. the feeling of fullness enveloped you as he thrust in as deep as he could go, making you gasp and wrap your arms around him tighter.

“so good for me, love. feels so good.” he muttered between pants, the words only making you pulse around him tighter. you had a bizarre urge to both cum and hold off as long as you could so this would go on as long as possible, as long as you needed him on you, inside you.

the sex was soft, bittersweet, filled with random kisses, both rolling your hips against each other. sometimes with ron, it was urgent, needy, desperate, brutal. and despite feeling all of those things at once, you grasped onto each other and never picked up the pace, clammy hands and warm skin, quiet groans and pounding hearts.

“ronnie, i wanna ride you.” you mumbled against his lips, as he allowed you to ease off him, finally straddling his hips once he was slouched against the headboard. you lazily rocked your hips against his, dragging your soaked folds over his shaft, finally letting up and sliding onto his cock once he pinched at your hips and gave you a desperate look.

“fuck, y/n. so tight around me, riding me like that.” he groaned, warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear as you wrapped your arms around his neck for support, head buried in the crook of it, bouncing steadily and moaning every time the new position made the thick head of his cock hit your g-spot.

“i love you.” you groaned, hips meeting his and no longer bouncing, just rocking back and forth, rolling your hips against his slowly.

“i love you too. so fucking much. never wanna leave you.”

“don’t.” you sniffled again, eyes filling with tears once more.

“i don’t want to.” you began riding him properly again, slowly, as he met your thrusts, rutting up into you. the crack in his voice was evident, and you avoided sobbing again by pressing your head even further into his neck, kissing the pale skin softly.

moaning, you bit your bottom lip, “i’m gonna cum, baby.”

“cum for me.” he breathed as you obliged (without much choice), body twitching as your orgasm washed over you powerfully, eyes screwed shut, thighs squeezing against his.

sensitive, he kept rocking up into you slowly, shallow moans building up from the back of his throat, voice raspy, “gonna cum, shit.”

you felt the sudden warmth as he pumped load after load of cum into you, and you kept your eyes closed, holding onto ron tighter than you thought possible as his trembling hands caressed your waist.

“can we stay like this, a sec’?”

his cock began to soften inside you, and he mumbled against your shoulder after a moment, “yeah.”

so you just held each other, breathing and hearts slowing down.

you mumbled into his neck. "promise you'll be safe?"

you could feel him smile softly against your shoulder.

“if it means coming back to you? i promise."

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

To Heal A Seeker

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: When healing Draco after a quidditch accident, you find he knows more about it than you think.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of injury, mentions of blood, mild angst, bit of jealousy, fluff, kissing

A/N: This fic is loosely inspired by one I’ve written here!

A soft huff left your lips for seemingly the millionth time in the past fifteen minutes as you pulled Draco along the darkened corridors towards the Hogwarts infirmary by the hand that night, worry on your mind and a bit of annoyance that he hadn’t done something sooner than just now. You had seen that he’d taken a hit during that evening’s quidditch match, but he hadn’t seemed all too affected by it though you should have known that he had far too much pride in him to show when he’d been hurt. He’d always been that way and probably always will be.

“If there’s anyone in here, we’re leaving, love,” he grumbles quietly behind you as he squeezes your hand to accompany his words, eliciting an eye roll from you. You pause in your stride and spin on your heel just outside the double doors, eyes narrowed at him in disapproval.

“No, we will not. Don’t be ridiculous, Draco,” you quip before turning back around, pushing open the door to the infirmary with a creak. It was far louder than you’d have liked in contrast to the silence.

Much to Draco’s relief each and every bed had been empty and neatly made in preparation for any student who may need it, the large room dimly lit now that Madame Pomfrey had turned in for the night. The glowing moonlight streamed in and stretched across the floor through the latticed windows in broken beams, adding a bit more illumination to the room.

His sigh was soon to be heard upon realization that there was no way out of your scolding, though he could help the flutter in his heart over the simple thought of being cared about so much. It wasn’t something he’d been used to, not really. So when you’d motioned for him to sit on of the beds, he’d done so without much argument save for his displeasure when your hand had slipped out of his own.

His lips pursed, however, when you’d brushed the heaps of tangled platinum away from his forehead to see if there’s been anything to heal, an action he came to regret as it tugged at the split he acquired. He should know better than to let the taunts of Cormac get under his skin by now, and he would have if he’d kept his snarky remarks simply on the topic of the match at hand. But the moment he had mentioned you he knew he had been in trouble, and Cormac knew his attempt at distraction had been plenty successful then. So much so the blonde nearly fell off his broom, instead taking a scrape to the arm by a passing player and furthermore an elbow to the mouth not ten minutes later. He had been seconds from casting a spell that was sure to take McLaggen out for the rest of the match, but for his team’s sake, for your sake, he didn’t.

“I’m fine, love,” he sighs softly, looking up at you with raised brows in hopes you’d take his word for it—he knows you won’t.

“You’re not,” you counter as the corners of your mouth tug downward, eyes narrowed as your gaze focuses on the split adorning his reddened lip. You brush the pad of your thumb over it gently as your frown remains, his expression softening at the sight of your distress. “You’re a fool, Dray.”

“But I’m your fool, aren’t I?” He says, a smile forming that’s soon cut short with a wince.

It was your turn to purse your lips as you shake your head, though a grin had been fighting valiantly to appear all the same. “You make it hard to be so sure.”

As he scoffs, you grab your wand from where it sat tucked within your boot, aiming it precisely at his bottom lip. He closed his eyes with a quiet huff then, your hand that’d since been gingerly pressed under his chin a comfort as he awaited the familiar feel of the Episkey spell he’d come to know all too well. Soon enough, with a murmur of the three-syllable word, he feels a heat on his lip followed just as quickly by a feeling nearly cold as ice, your hand falling from his chin to swipe your finger over his newly healed lip as if nothing had happened to it. When he opens his eyes to look at you he finds you’re a bit more at ease, a blush staining your cheeks as your thumb lingers.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, one no longer having stinging repercussions, his hands finding yours as he looks up at you with mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Perhaps a kiss will make it all the more better?”

Your eye roll was immediate at his words, words that were so utterly cheesy and so very Draco to say. But the smile that’d been gracing his lips had been one that was near impossible to keep from kissing and soon you find yourself dipping down to press your lips on his. His hands had squeezed your own and his sigh had puffed warmly against your skin at the action, one that proved to be all too fleeting in his opinion.

“You’re already better,” you mumble, kissing the tip of his nose as you pull away. “Well, partly.”

As his shoulders slump your distracted attention returns to the task at hand, to the arm he so insistently said had been fine. You knew very well it hadn’t been judging by the fraying green yarn that dangled from his sleeve, a tear accompanying it. Without hesitation you grab a hold of the cuff and push up his sleeve carefully, your breath catching at the scrape running across the top of his arm. It was an angry scarlet around the edges, the shade a sharp contrast to the paleness of his skin. It’d been fairly superficial from the looks of it, something that wouldn’t be cause for concern, but you were unhappy nonetheless.

“Draco,” you sigh, and he’s quick to bring your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles in an attempt to lessen your worrying. “You’ve got to stop letting him get to you. It clearly isn’t doing you any good.”

You pull your hand from his and turn to make your way to the cabinet across the infirmary.

The tall cupboard housed just about every healing potion, every herb, and every bandage you could possibly think of atop its very shelves. They were all carefully and precisely crafted from ingredients hand selected from the greenhouse, made with great attention to measurements in order to be in their most effective state. It was an assortment always well stocked, especially while the quidditch season was in play for the more competitive and dare you say clumsy members of the four teams participating, your beau very much included. Only you hadn’t known such potions had been made by the very person you’d been healing, most of them residing there have been for that matter.

You scanned the shelves in search of the perfect solution for such an injury, the lighting of the room not having been helping you very much.

“It’s Essence of Dittany, darling,” he calls out behind you, his words matter of fact yet his suggestion gentle.

You smile softly as you pluck it from the shelf before dampening a towel, turning on your heel with a raised brow. You say nothing more as you return to him, setting the towel to the side and unscrewing the cap. When held up to the moonlight it’d been a shade of green that could nearly rival that of the slytherin team jersey he’d been wearing, and that’d been a clear enough indication that you’d gotten the right one. Though you must say, the handwritten label had seemed strikingly familiar to you.

With a steady hand you hold his wrist, his fingers splaying over your arm. You look at him once more, his gaze soft and encouraging that he’d be just fine. You took a deep breath then, applying a generous amount to the wound. In a matter of moments a matching green smoke had begun to billow upwards and dissipate into the room, something that had made you flinch more than it did Draco at the simple reaction of the potion.

“You don’t need that many drops, Y/n/n,” he says softly, grabbing the dropper from your hand and capping the tiny bottle. “Just three or four is plenty for something this size.”

He knew you’d probably been done so out of worry of putting enough, out of wanting it to be healed as much as possible, and the thought alone had him resisting the urge to grin. You bit the inside of your cheek to try your hardest to hide your own smile, gazing at him as he watched the scrape along his arm heal in a matter of moments. He brushed his fingers along where it’d once been before shifting his attention towards you—you and your ever curious smile that was unable to be fought any longer than a second.

“And just how do you know all these things?” You ask, your grin heard in your words as you tilt your head in display of your curiosity. He laughs softly as you wipe away the crimson smears of blood remaining on his skin, eying the area that looked as though it’d been good as new.

“I’ve done my research,” he shrugs, the scarlet that was beginning to stain his cheeks having gone unseen in the dimness of the room.

“I can see that,” you say, and it’d been very clear he’d done more than just a little research, and you felt as though maybe he’d been more interested in the art of healing than he was letting on.

You could tell that very fact just by the way he’d fumbled and twirled the little glass bottle in his hands, eying the green potion that had worked exceptionally with the softest of smiles on his face. By the way he’d been so inclined to accompany you whenever you’d made the trip to the greenhouse every other night, needing little instruction on how to care for most any of the plants. You could tell by the very way you’d found him asleep in the library far past midnight once before, a page of notes on herbology stuck to his cheek. It wasn’t very hard to see that this was far more than just a hobby, than just something to occupy his free time.

Playing quidditch was something he hadn’t anticipated doing beyond second year. It was more so a challenge, something he’d done just to rival Harry and get under his skin. He was quite skilled at it, yes, having perfected the sport in hopes to please his father though he knew his attempts were futile. He stuck with it though, one year turning to two, two to four. Now you were in your seventh and final year and he’d still been yet to stop playing. But it’d been obvious this wasn’t something he’d want to make a life out of much to Lucius’ dismay, it was more so a distraction from everything that’s been weighing heavy on his mind. It was obvious he didn’t hold a passion for it past his desire to win each match, to hold the title over Cormac. That was it—it was merely a pass time.

“I’ve made this one myself, you know,” he says after a little while, holding the little bottle up as the emerald potion swirls inside it at the sudden action. “And I see now that it’s quite satisfactory.”

“I would assume it’s from all the studying you’ve been doing, then,” you quip, your smile beaming and all-knowing when he looks up from his hands to meet your gaze.

His brows knit together ever so slightly, lips parting as his breath catches slightly and he hopes you hadn’t heard it. “I don’t believe I know what you’re talking about, love.”

You laugh softly as you tug down the sleeve of his quidditch sweater, enveloping his hands in your own. They were calloused and warm as you held them save for the ring he’d worn, far larger in comparison to yours. “I’ve caught you studying notes on healing and herbology in the library far too many times for me to believe that, Draco.”

“I was just—”

“I’ve seen the way you care for the plants in the greenhouse when professor sprout isn’t there to do so. Not to mention, you’re at the top of the potions class. Being a healer would be good for you—you should go for it, Dray, really. You’d be brilliant!” You say, squeezing his hand softly.

A soft laugh left his lips at the mere mention of it, one that wasn’t entirely filled with humor as he looked away from you briefly. He shook his head then, his thumbs brushing over your knuckles tenderly. “Yeah, and what would my father say about that? I don’t think he’d be too happy if his son, the only Malfoy heir, went soft and decided to use his magic for good. He’s not too fond of the idea of me pursuing a career with quidditch either.”

You sigh softly, shoulders slumping at his words as you release one of his hands to rest on his cheek. His gaze returns to you upon your touch, his jaw tense under your finger tips before he relaxed. Your thumb swipes over his chin as you mull over your next words.

“Draco, we both know what I think of your father’s opinion,” you say, pulling a small smile from him. “All I’m saying is, if you truly like it, I think you should pursue it. You seem to like it far more than chasing McLaggen around on the pitch accumulating who knows how many bumps and bruises. You’re good at it Draco, you love it, and that’s what matters. Besides, I’ve got no problem fighting your father on the subject, you know.”

His smile widens and he tugs you hand from his face, pulling you down next to him in one swift motion. In a matter of moments his lips are on yours, soft and sweet as his hand settles on your flushed cheek.

“No, you absolutely will not,” he murmurs, his laughter warm against your lips as his mouth brushed over yours. Your own bout of laughter was immediately as his nose scrunches against yours, breath mingling in the close proximity. “It would be in your best interest not to.”

Your eyes flutter closed as your forehead rests on yours, strands of platinum tickling against your skin. “Oh really?”

He wastes no time in nodding softly, humming to further answer your counter as he tucks your hair behind your ear. He pulls away from you though he doesn’t stray too far, pale blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight as his tongue swipes across his lips. His gaze is soft yet intense, the corner of his mouth quirking up. It’s fleeting as he moves to kiss your cheek, trailing to the corner of your jaw and most tenderly chastely just under your ear, the feeling of his breath over your skin making it hard to stifle your laugh.

“I love you, you know,” he whispers, kissing the spot once more. You smile, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“I love you, even when you nearly fall off your broom,” you say, and he’s quick to quiet you with a kiss, one that just about has you tumbling back on the less than comfortable hospital bed as a second bout of laughter echoes in the large room. “I love you.”

Your smile is beaming and bright, one that’s mirrored as he squeezes your hand and kisses your cheek. He knows his future is uncertain, but one thing he does know is that he’s got you.

You’ll always be there to love him, to heal a seeker.

—

Tags: @anchoeritic @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq @snitches-at-dawn @dracosathenaeum @harrysweasleys @awritingtree @writeroutoftime @lunalovecroft @lilypad-55449

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco x you

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luminois · 3 years

Text

— 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧;

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐰: 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜), 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝.

𝟐𝟔𝟎𝟑 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

demons had once been humans, and every single one of them had died young. their life had been plagued by rage and pain, and the devil had given them the chance to live for eternity to get revenge on the world. they all existed by choice, phoenixes who had gone through fire and chose to keep burning forever.

they whispered in innocent ears about greed and envy, painted their souls red with sin. and despite the suffering they caused they were loved, because they were attractive, alluring, irresistible. they could’ve been mistaken for angels, if it wasn’t for the darkness in their eyes and the heat they exuded. and the black, featherless wings, of course. fear didn’t touch them and they were driven by adrenaline, uncontrolled impulses, and lust. in paradise there were stories of angels who had let themselves be tainted by a demon’s touch, after being pure on earth and in the afterlife. they’d become addicted, and had been ultimately killed by the heartache of not being loved back.

you should have hated him. that’s what everything suggested, what you’d been taught and what you knew was right. he was incapable of love, of feeling empathy, the very things you were made for. you shouldn’t want to spend even a second in his presence, you shouldn’t even be able to look his way without feeling repulsed.

but you’d let hyunjin follow you, hadn’t even said a word back when he said he wasn’t going to leave you alone, and now he was in the bakery, leaning against a counter as if he owned the place. you were afraid of him, that you couldn’t deny, but you couldn’t hate someone you didn’t even know. and how come angels were capable of hate?

“why so pouty, little angel? did your cookies not come out as sweet as you wanted?”

with his mocking tone came your red cheeks, a natural consequence. he loved it, you could see his smirk getting wider every time, but you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“you’re going to scare my clients,” you said, daring a glance his way. he was dressed in black from head to toes, and the red of his eyes was only matched by his lips against the unnaturally pale skin. he looked completely out of place in the pastel tones of the bakery.

hyunjin chuckled. “you’re mistaken, they love me. this is about you.”

“about me?”

he hummed. “you’re the one who’s scared of me.”

“you’re mistaken,” you said, trying to use the same condescending tone. but your words came out shaky, and it made hyunjin laugh.

“lying is bad, angel, didn’t they teach you that in paradise?” he said, reaching out his hand towards you. “prove you’re not scared, then. come here, i’ll believe you if you come here to me.”

you looked at his hand, waiting for you to take it. clutching the hem of your apron in your fists, you followed his arm up to his face. you knew what it would’ve meant, what would’ve happened if you got closer and let hyunjin touch you willingly. you wanted to do it, to prove you hadn’t lied when you both knew you had.

pride. that was the biggest sin, the root of all evil. you’d heard that sentence in your head more times that you could count, sculpted into your conscience by every archangel you’d encountered. if you didn’t take his hand, it wasn’t real. unless you acted upon it, you weren’t sinning.

the first step was small, insignificant, but you’d taken it. hyunjin’s eyes lit up with astonishment at the prospect of you falling so easily. you didn’t take it yet. that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as you took the second step, your heartbeat loud in your ears. you didn’t take it yet, you could stop. it wasn’t too late, not yet.

he was one step away when the bell above the bakery’s door rang. hyunjin’s arm fell to his side. you were never going to take that step. you put on a smile and turned to greet the client. even if nobody had opened the door at that moment, you wouldn’t have taken it.

“hello! what can i do for you?”

the young man came a couple times a week to buy apple turnovers, his favorites, as he never failed to tell you, and he always offered you a wide smile. today, his sunny expression died down before he could even walk up to the counter.

his face lost all color as he stared at hyunjin, having forgotten your presence completely. the demon held his gaze, his tongue swiping over his lips, the light catching on the little ball of metal of his tongue piercing. the young man seemed conflicted, tense as if he was holding himself back from taking a step closer. hyunjin was calling him without saying a word, letting his half lidded eyes do the work.

you knew this was what was going to happen and you wanted to do something, anything. but you’d never seen a demon before hyunjin, and now you understood why they were so hard to resist. he wasn’t looking at you and yet you felt affected by his power, as if it were a physical entity whispering obscenities in your ear.

you shook your head and got a hold of yourself, trying your best to smile at the distraught customer. “apple turnovers, as usual?”

your gentle voice snapped the young man out of his trance, and now he looked at you perplexed. you knew what he was thinking, how could these two people be in the same place? humans didn’t know about angels and demons, but they could feel when someone was out of the ordinary. both you and hyunjin were, in the most opposite way.

he nodded quickly, his hands fondling with each other nervously. you packed his order and offered it to him, feeling somewhat reassured when he took the paper bag with a poor attempt at a smile. his last glance before he left was for hyunjin.

you sighed, pushing your hair back before turning to look at the demon. “what did you do to him?”

he tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes at you as his smirk got bigger. “what do you think i did, angel?”

“how could i know?” you huffed. “did you convince him to commit murder? to steal something?”

hyunjin’s laughter erupted in the small bakery. he shook his head, standing properly on his feet. “easier, way easier than all of that,” he said, raising his eyebrows at you when you didn’t say anything. “i fucked him, more times than you can count on your pretty little fingers. the sweetest of sins, to me at least. he was in pain for most of it but kept asking me to go on.”

a gasp escaped your lips, your cheeks starting to burn at hyunjin’s filthy words. he bit his full bottom lip at your reaction, a glint in eyes as he took a step closer to you.

“you’ve never had sex, have you? my shy, blushing little angel, have you ever imagined what it feels like?”

you took a step back as he kept walking towards you. of course you’d never done it, angels had to be pure, untouched even in their previous life. he knew that, there were stories in hell, too. but you were free in your thoughts, and sometimes they were filled with an uncontrollable hunger for something you’d never had. you imagined strong hands touching you gently, warmth spreading from the most intimate part of you to your entire body, words whispered in the dark.

“sins aren’t sweet,” you said, avoiding his questions. your back touched the wall, and when he stopped walking your bodies were almost touching. hyunjin tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his pointer finger following the curve of your scarlet cheek. you shivered.

“this one is, angel. i can show you just how sweet lust is, show you everything you’ve missed out on. you just have to say the words.”

he caged you between his arms, leaning down until your noses were almost touching. his tone was inviting, promises of ecstasy and pleasure silently accompanied his words. you’d heard

a few angels talk about the blissful sensation being close to the highest brought them. would laying intimately with hyunjin feel the same way?

your mouth fell agape as one of his hands caressed your waist, settling on the small of your back. his expression was softer, as if something was on his mind. you sensed his hesitation and used the moment to duck under his arm and step away from him, ignoring the cold instantly enveloping you now that his warmth was gone.

hyunjin sighed, turning to look at you. he chuckled as you cupped your own cheeks with your hands, trying to cool them down.

“i’m going to get you, angel,” he said, his mischievous smirk curving his lips again. “you can’t pretend you don’t want me much longer.”

“i don’t want anyone, hyunjin, i don’t even think about any of that,” you lied. it had become increasingly easier after days of being around him. “you can try, but i won’t fall for you, not this easily.”

“so you’re saying you will if i try harder.”

you shook your head, unable to contain your smile. you knew you were nothing more than a name he wanted to add to the list of souls he’d managed to taint. but you couldn’t ignore the small voice in the back of your head, wondering why he hadn’t given up on you to go find someone easier to corrupt.

you turned to gather everything you needed to start working on a new batch of cookies, and hyunjin was hovering over you mere seconds later. his hands on your hips burned through the layers separating them from your bare skin. he’d never touched you so directly before, without having an excuse.

“what are you doing?” you asked, biting back the shakiness in your voice.

“keeping you warm while you work.”

you turned just enough to look up at him, curious about what he was truly trying to do. he looked back at you, and if you didn’t know better you’d think his actions were innocent.

“acting nice won’t work either, hyunjin, i know who you are.”

hyunjin rolled his eyes, his arms casually wrapping around your waist. “i’m not trying anything, i know you like being warm and i’m the best heater you can find, that’s all.”

“are you… actually being nice?”

he groaned “fuck it.”

you grabbed his wrist as you felt him start to move away, looking down at the ingredients spread out before you to ignore the grin stretching hyunjin’s lips. he held you closer, one of his big hands resting on your stomach.

“don’t push it,” you warned him. when he didn’t say anything back, you took a deep breath and started working.

making the dough was second nature now, your hands moving quickly without much thought. you didn't need measurements or instructions anymore, muscle memory guiding you through the entire process. maybe you’d done this in your previous life, too. you didn't particularly like it, but it came easy. as an angel, everything that could make others happy did. you hummed a soft tune unknown to you as well, your mind free to think about anything. you recalled the things you’d promised to do, the people you’d promised to help, and it felt like reading a list of chores.

as you moved on to cutting the shapes, hyunjin moved your hair out of the way and placed his chin on your shoulder. he was completely enveloping you now, your smaller figure disappearing in his arms.

“you’re quiet,” you said, breaking the silence that had been filling the room for quite some time now. you felt hyunjin shrug.

“you’re slow, i was falling asleep,” he joked, and laughed when your shoulders sagged down with a huff.

“i’m not giving you any cookies.”

“i have never, not once in my almost centenarian life, met a mean angel before you.”

you gasped, turning around in his hold. “i’m an angel, i am physically incapable of being mean.”

“the world isn’t black and white, angel,” hyunjin said, “you lie and think about naughty things you shouldn’t even know about, and i’m willingly spending my time with you. and i like it.”

there was no shame in hyunjin’s words, and as your heart started racing you wished you could read through him like he could so easily do with you. he sounded sincere, but you couldn’t be sure he wasn’t lying. his hands were now placed on the counter on either side of you, and you dreaded how you missed his touch.

“how can something be both good and bad?” you asked, trying to grasp the meaning behind his words.

“nothing is ever entirely good or entirely bad, there’s always both,” hyunjin said, looking down at you almost… tenderly, endeared by how naive you were. “do you know the man who lives a couple blocks from here, the one with the fucked up car that sounds like a dying cat when he hits the brakes?”

you cringed at the demon’s words, and nodded. “the people living close to him always come here and complain about it,” you said, “they say he steals cars to sell the pieces to shady people, but i don’t know if it’s true or just gossip.”

“it’s true,” hyunjin said, an amused smile curving his lips, “i helped him do it the first couple of times, it was fun but he sells to assholes and i couldn’t stand them for long without starting a fight, so i left him to mind his own business.”

you sighed, not even slightly surprised. “are you telling me this to brag about it or is there a point somewhere?”

“slow down, angel, damn,” he chuckled, pinching your waist. “i want to know what you think of him, now that you know it’s all true.”

“he’s a bad person, obviously, and it’s your fault.”

“he’s a single father,” hyunjin said, holding your chin to make sure you were listening. “he couldn’t buy his daughter books to go to school because he lost his job. when i met him he was struggling to find a way to put food on the table, scared shitless they were going to take her from him.”

you listened to him talk with your lips parted, wide eyes trying to find a sense in it all. you’d been told that bad actions aren’t excusable, that crooked things have to be straightened because nothing good can grow from them. but what if something has to be crooked to work properly? you watched as the flower of your certainties lost his first petals, and the tragedy of it all made your eyes teary.

“the world is cruel, little angel,” hyunjin said, his voice gentle as he wiped your silent tears. “sometimes you have to do cruel things to keep your head above the water.”

he caressed your hair, his palm guiding you to hide in his chest. you didn’t care about being vulnerable in front of him, showing emotions brought people together, you saw no use in pretending to be strong when your world was falling apart. hyunjin’s heart was beating strong and fast against your ear. he held you tighter.

hadn’t you felt so lost, you would have noticed the memories of his life on earth darken his features with a bitter smile.

do you want to read more?

banner by @blueprint-han

taglist: @sleepylixie @bobateastay @meiiyue @aliceu @softieyn @riel-precious @witchylixie @tulipsandfire @anskiie @tpwkjerii @blackkacchan @fournia @parachuuuus @inlovewithasa @skzshortcake @lmxral @hyunyin

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hihellogoodbyebruh · 3 years

Text

Is She the Reason? - Part 3

Parts: 1, 2

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Reader, Nestor Oceteva x Black!Reader

Summary: Angel, Nestor. Nestor, Angel. Girl....what the hell you gon’ do now?

Warning(s): Aaaangst, a fluffly bit, a confrontation, but aaaaaangst. This is the angst series :)

Word count: 2,508

AN: I uh...I did a thing. After this there is only one part of this series left. Comments, questions, and concerns are always welcomed. Okay, bye. Love y’all xo

TAGLIST: @holland23567 @trulysuccubus @pearlkitten33

You were at the salon getting yourself a downright sickening blowout. You could feel how silky the hair was and you were happy for a change. You didn’t wanna do something so drastic like chopping your hair, but you needed something new.

“You finessed the hell out of my hair. Thank you so much Shonda.” You smiled at your longtime hair stylist.

“You know I got you, girl.” Shonda smiled back, still running her fingers through the hair and slinging it over your shoulder. She noticed you looking at your phone, “You got a hot date with that fine ass Angel?”

You felt a tug on your heart at the mention of him. “Nope. We aint together anymore and no I don’t want to talk about it.” You got up out of the seat and placed the money she owed plus a tip on the vanity.

“Oh, uh okay. I’ll see you next time!” Shonda called out to you as you practically ran out of the salon to avoid any further questions about you and Angel.

You breathed a sigh of relief at being outside and away from the possible interrogation that would have happened if you stayed there longer. You were ready to casually talk about your breakup with others. You were not over it.

The familiar smell of delicious Mexican food wafted through your nostrils as you reached your lunch destination for the day. You walked in and saw who you were looking for already at a table.

“Hey Nes.” You greeted the man with a smile that turned into a giggle as he stood up from his seat and pulled you in a big hug, lifting your feet off the ground a little. “Put me down.”

“I’m just happy to see you, mi cielo.” Nestor murmured, letting your feet drop back down to the floor and leading to the table.

“Oh don’t start sweet talking me.” You laughed, taking a seat.

“Ain’t no one sweet talking you. I can if you’d like me too. I see you with the straight silky locs. You trying to impress me?” He teasingly asked as he sat across from you.

“Boy, please.” You scoffed, taking a look at the menu.

“Good. Cause I’m already impressed by you.” He replied in such an earnest tone, it caused her to stop looking at her menu to meet his eyes.

The look in his eyes made her pause. He was staring at you so intently that you were relieved when the server came to get their orders. You had no idea what to say to him. Nestor really was a nice guy. He was fine, secure, and had yet to disappoint you. You’d been relying on him a lot over these last few weeks. He’d kept you company, wiped your tears, and made you laugh. He showed up every time he said he would, but what did that mean?

It wasn’t until after you two enjoyed a hilarious and delicious lunch together that you felt ready to broach the subject. You two were standing in front of his car saying your goodbyes.

“You’re a great friend and I appreciate you so much. You know that, right Nes?” You asked him, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“Of course, cielo.” He responded, his hands on your hips.

He pulled you in for a hug and you hugged him tight. When you two pulled back, he leaned forward as if to kiss you and you buried your face in his chest. Nestor instead held you tightly again and placed several kisses on your exposed neck. The kisses make you shiver and you pull away again to look at him.

“Nestor..” You begin but get interrupted by his phone going off.

He checked his phone and pulled further away from you. “It’s Miguel. I gotta go, but call me later okay?” He placed a kiss on your forehead and then he was hopping in his car and speeding away to meet Miguel wherever.

You just stood in the same spot he left you, staring at the tail lights of his car until you can’t see them anymore.

xxxxxxxx

The “alliance” between the Mayans and the Galindo Cartel was a precarious situation from the very beginning. Things had grown more tense with the dissolution of Y/N’s relationship with Angel and her blossoming friendship with Nestor. Meetings between the gangs had an added uneasiness with Angel glaring at Nestor and Miguel’s bodyguard not giving him any energy back.

It had been two weeks since the diner and Angel could not get those images out of his head. Angel was waiting for the right opportunity to address Nestor. Where the fuck does Nestor get off having his hands all on you? Yes, Angel knew you were mad at him, but that doesn’t mean he was ready to see you with anyone else especially someone associated with fucking Galindo. He wanted him to stay away from you.

The opportunity presented itself when Miguel left the meeting with his other guards, leaving Nestor behind to complete a different task. The Mayans had all turned to head back into the clubhouse but Angel stayed behind and walked up on Nestor.

“Aye!” Angel barked out at Nestor’s retreating form as he walked up on him. “What are you doing with Y/N? I saw y’all the other day.”

Nestor turned around and stared at him for a minute before saying, “What the fuck did you say to me?”

“You heard me. Why are you sniffing around her? She’s not gonna be with you. She still loves me.”

“Oh she told you that? Then why aren’t y’all still together huh? Cause y’all aint together right now right? Right?” Nestor asked, staring Angel down. Angelcito would be even more upset to learn Nestor just came from lunch with you, but he wasn’t about to gloat out of respect for you.

“Yeah but-”

“And whose fault is that?”

Angel was silent. He knew it was his fault. He didn’t need to be reminded by the likes of Nestor. As the man went on, Angel found himself getting angrier and angrier. His hands balling into fists.

“So let me get this straight: you fuck some random bitch so Y/N dumps you and now you in my face because you fucked up and lost her?” Nestor stared at Angel and chuckled. How pathetic could he be? The audacity of the Mayan to tell him anything was laughable. “Own your shit, homes. Don’t worry about what I’m doing.”

Angel couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed Nestor by the shirt and pushed him up against the car. “Stay the fuck away from her.” He barked, voice harsh and loud.

The commotion must have gotten someone’s attention because the Mayans poured out of the clubhouse, pulling Angel off Nestor who only laughed and straightened his shirt.

Bishop tried to apologize for Angel but Nestor waved him off, still laughing. “I’ll give him that one. We can chalk it up to emotional distress at his recent loss.” He goes from speaking to Bishop to looking Angel dead in the eyes. “But if you put your hands on me again I’ll blow your brains out and leave your mangled body at your pop’s front door, comprende?”

Nestor was in his car and gone without another word. Angel just watched him go, before turning to look at EZ. EZ could tell from the look on his face that he was planning something and he just hoped it did not backfire and make things even worse.

xxxxxxxx

“Open the fucking door!” You screamed, banging your fist against the locked office door. You couldn’t believe you had gotten played like this. “Whoever is on the other side: EZ, Coco, Gilly, or even Letty when I get out of here I'm gonna hurt you.” You threatened, but the door remained closed.

You had received a text from Chucky asking you to stop by the garage to look over some contracts with him. You had the day off so it was no big deal. When you walked in the office you were not greeted by Chucky but instead a pensive Angel. Obviously this had been a set up.

“It’s not getting opened until I say the magic word.” Angel explained from the chair he had yet to move from. He was completely relaxed and his sentence just confirmed what you already knew: he set this whole thing up.

“Oh so it’s you I should hurt, then?” You turned around from the door and crossed your arms as you stared at him. “Why would you do this?”

“I needed to see you.”

You scoffed. “Angel tell them to open this door right now.”

“No.”

“No?” You angrily walked to the desk and swiped a paper weight off the desk that you chucked at his chest, hitting him square on the collarbone.

“Ow! Shit.” He groaned, rubbing where the weight hit him.

“I will throw everything on this desk at you. Let me out.” You threatened once again and he stood up from the seat. He walked around the desk and every step he took, you took one backwards.

He was approaching but you wanted to keep some space between the two of you. It wasn’t until you backed into the door that you realized he was just getting you away from the potential weapons on the desk.

“Okay fine.” You threw your hands up in defeat. “Fine. Let’s talk Angel. What would you like to discuss?”

“Your hair looks nice. You’ve never worn it like that before. You look beautiful.” He complimented.

“Thanks.” You were wound up so tight as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

“I bet Nestor likes it too.”

You narrowed your eyes at the mention of Nestor. “Why are you bringing him up?”

“Just heard you two have been hanging out.” He tried to nonchalantly mention, but you saw right through that.

“I know you’re not jealous. Please fuck right off with that. If you want to talk about Nestor, this conversation ends now.” You were not about to get into a discussion about Nestor with Angel. It wasn’t his business and also you weren’t even sure what was going on. The last time you saw him was at lunch earlier in the week.

Angel was silent for a moment as he debated with himself. “Do you miss me? Cause I miss you.” He asked, staring at you.

“No.” You tried to keep a bored look on your face.

“You really don’t miss me at all, querida? You don’t miss us?” He implored, taking a step closer to you.

It was quiet as you two simply stared at each other. He was waiting for an answer and you were fighting with yourself to keep quiet.

“Of course I miss you, you selfish asshole!” You finally exploded. You missed him every damn day. The situation was hard enough but he made it worse by just not leaving you alone. “Doesn’t mean I want or need to be with you. You don’t understand that I can’t trust you Angel. I refuse to torture myself by being with you and worrying what you’re doing every second of the day.”

“I want to earn your trust back. You tell me what you want me to do and that’s what I’ll do. Starting right now. You want me on my knees? What’s that Temptations song….I aint too proud to beg right? Call me David Ruffin.” Tears filled your eyes as you listened to him. This was the Angel you fell in love with. All earnest good intentions with a side of sarcastic asshole that you found irresistible. “Give me something, Y/N. We can’t just end like this. I can’t accept this. I know it’s my fault, but I can’t let you go.”

“You have to! I just..I can’t Angel. You hurt me so fucking much. I can’t go back. I won’t let you do it again. I won’t.” You began shaking your head as the tears poured down your cheeks. He shattered your heart with his actions and selfishness. You would never put yourself in that position again. And yet, your traitorous heart still yearned for him.

Angel had tears in his eyes as he watched you break down. He took your face in his hands and wiped your tears. “Oh, querida. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He repeated apologies and sweet nothings over and over again as he held you close.

After crying for a moment, you raised your head and looked up at Angel. “Sorry just isn’t enough.”

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make it better. So he did the only thing he could do. The thing he’s been wanting to do for almost two months and he kissed you firmly on the lips.

You froze at first before gripping his kutte tightly as he pinned you to the door. The kiss was sloppy, passionate, and everything you missed about being with you. He kissed you like a man who knew exactly what you liked and he did. You both pushed all of your pent up feelings into that kiss.

He got your legs spread and wrapped around his waist as he pushed you even harder into the wall. You grinded against him as you two continued to explore each other’s mouths.

The pounding on the door broke you two out of the haze of emotionality and lust you’d lost your head in.

“Angel! Get out here! Now.” EZ called out through the door. There was an undercurrent to his voice that made you pause. What was going on?

Angel was content to continue kissing you, but you pushed him away and let your legs hit the floor again. You fixed your hair and wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Y/N…” Angel began, but you ignored him as you opened the now unlocked door.

When you stepped out Angel was right behind you and he bumped into your back as you froze, after seeing who was on the other side of the door.

EZ was the first face you saw and then you noticed Coco towards the back of the room. Behind EZ stood a strange young guy next to a familiar face you hadn’t seen in awhile.

Adelita

You hadn’t seen her since that fateful day. Your blood turned to ice as you looked at her now. Did she know Angel had a woman when they began their affair? Would it have made a difference had she known? You give her a once over, trying to figure out what made her so damn special. What was so good about her that he’d break his promises to you? What made her better than you?

It wasn’t until the other woman shifted in her stance that you noticed the hand she had placed over her stomach….over a slight bump that was only just becoming visible.

You stopped breathing.

Adelita was pregnant.

#angel reyes #nestor oceteva #black!reader #angel reyes x black!reader #nestor oceteva x black!reader #hhgbyebruh fics #Is she the reason

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vagrantblvrd · 3 years

Text

So, that time Rebel Alliance pilot Luke Skywalker was on patrol with Wedge sometime between ANH and Empire and had a run-in with a pre-Imperial gunship registered as the Razor Crest???

Pew-pew dogfight in which the Crest didn’t fire on them which is always nice, but it sure as hell attempted to evade - Luke and Wedge being like, oh, they’re good - and then surprise!Imperial ships, because I cannot not do ridiculous Drama.

Razor Crest and Luke’s X-wing both get hit, go down over a thickly forested nearby planet. Wedge is forced to break off and report back to the Allince - Imperial ships this close to their Rebel base? Apparently more likely than you’d think.

Meanwhile Luke is surveying the wreckage of his X-wing trying to see what he can salvage and whatnot. He has faith Wedge got away safely, because it’s Wedge and he’s one of the best pilots in the Alliance, but any rescue efforts won’t arrive for days, so.

He manages to get Artoo onto solid ground, tries not to smile as Artoo keeps up a steady stream of complaints the whole time because Skywalkers!!1!, kind of the worst, really.

Sometime later he hears blaster fire and looks toward the direction it seemed to come from, and is like.

Hmm.

Because the Razor Crest and if he survived a crash landing on this planet it’s possible the other pilot did too. (Mainly the blaster fire though, seeing as the planet seems largely uninhabited, and anyway. What are the odds it would be anyone else when they went down in roughly the same area.)

So.

Luke could make camp here, stick close to his X-wing which would make it easier for anyone to come looking for him, but also, also.

The surprise!Imperial ships who shot him down and might come looking to finish the job, and anyway, anyway, he’s got one of his Feelings he should search out the other pilot.

Which, you know, he does.

In spite of Artoo’s protests and predictions of gloom and doom, and anyway, it’s better than doing nothing, so.

Off they go, having little adventures here and there because local flora and fauna and that time Luke had to rescue Artoo getting stuck in a giant spiderweb the two of them getting the hell out of there before whatever made it comes to check on it.

They have to stop to make camp for the night and it’s while Luke’s setting up a fire that they hear blaster fire again, something roaring, and other such ounds that indictate someone is possibly having a worse day than they are.

Luke goes to see what it is, Artoo like what, why, and also Skywalkers >:((((((((( but follows Luke anyway because no way is he going to be left behind.

A rescue is attempted, but Din is being attacked by a large predator (I’m picturing something like a cave bear, but maybe little bigger???) that seems to be impervious to blasters and determined as hell, and would you look at that? There’s a handy little cave right over there with an entrance large enough for them and Artoo to fit through but too small for the large predator, and anyway, they’re not dumb.

Luke points the cave out, Din is like ??? because where the hell did he come from, but then the Alliance flight-suit and oh, right, and anyway. Din’s the one in armor so it makes sense that he covers Luke’s run to the cave.

And when the large predator takes a swipe of Din that sends him flying, Luke scrambles to get him into the cave and maybe kind of taps into his Force abilities to knock the large predator away long enough for them to get to safety.

Plot Reasons and all.

From there it’s Luke ~fretting over an unconscious Mandalorian while Artoo mutters to himself and overall it a very odd day indeed.

Luke’s exploring the cave, looking for another way out seeing as how the large predator is still outside and looks like it’s going to wait the out when Din wakes up.

He finds several dead ends and a pool fed from snow melt from the look of it, so they won’t have to worry about water, which is the first bit of good news.

(Rebel Alliance and survival courses and having to relocate bases whenever the Imperials find them so he’s picked up some things since leaving Tatooine, so yes.)

Luke makes his way back to the main room of the cave to find the Mandalorian and Artoo in a standoff of some sort.

“Oh, good,” Luke says, careful to keep his hands in clear view, and doesn’t make any sudden moves. “You’re awake.”

Din is like.

He’s tired and sore, got knocked around in the crash and then had the bad luck to run afoul of the large predator and now this.

(Also, he’s pretty sure he has a concussion on top of everything, so.)

No love for the Empire and all, but no desire to fall in with the Rebels either, he just wants to go about his own business, live his life and so on.

He wasn’t even doing anything questionably legal when the X-wings slid up alongside the Crest. Was minding his own damn business and just.

Bad day all around.

Still, at least the Rebel pilot didn’t remove his helmet - one of the first things he made sure of, because of course he did.

They muddle their way into a truce/understanding between them for the time being seeing as how they’re stuck in the cave and all.

Din is sure he can handle the large predator, but concussion and all, and anyway, he’s still tired enough that the Rebel’s suggestion he get more rest before he throws himself at it doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

Luke shares rations from his emergency kit, and Din likewise salvaged what he could from the Crest before he ran into the large predator.

The good news is they have food and water that should last long enough for any search parties sent for Luke -

And, okay, Luke’s not stupid. Notices the way the Mandalorian goes so very still when Luke says that, just thinking out loud as you do, and sighs.

Guy probably falls more on Han’s side of legal activities than Luke’s, has no reason to be happy about the Rebels coming to the rescue, but he doesn’t know what to about it for now.

(Thinks in the back of his mind that if worst comes to worst, he can always get Han aboard for a tiny little jailbreak. Probably.)

Anyway.

There’s not a lot of talking from them, but it’s not as awkward as Luke thought it might be. The Mandalorian actually answers his questions, when he feels like it

By the third day Luke wouldn’t cal them friends, but they’re not quite enemies and that’s better than he was expecting given the circumstances.

And then there’ the thing where they think it’s safe to leave the cave, but surprise, it’s not!

Large predator is still around and there is a fairly epic fight to chase it off or kill it if that’s what it takes, but Din’s leg gets a little broken and Luke gets a little knocked around and Artoo doesn’t have a great time of it either, what with getting tossed around like a chew toy when he caused a distraction to save the humans.

Anyway, anyway, they end up killing it thanks to teamwork and then it’s a matter of sorting everything out.

Luke’s got bacta in his emergency kit, but not enough to help with Din’s leg or other injuries between them, but Din, okay, Din.

Might have some back on the Crest, but he’s in no shape to make it there now, and no knowing if there are more of those large predators around, and Luke is like.

He’s still mobile, he’ll go.

Din is like, are you that stupid? To which Luke is like, kinda, yeah.

He knows Din’s not fond of droids, hasn’t made it a secret, but the terrain is tricky enough as it is for Artoo, and he’s worried about Din, and just.

He leaves Artoo with Din and goes off on his little trek to the Razor Crest.

Takes him half a day before he gets there and when he does it’s clear the ship has seen better days, but he’s pretty sure it can be fixed made flyable again.

If, you know, Din could get his hands on metal plates to patch up holes in the Crest’s hull.

(Conveniently, Luke happens to know where there’s a crashed X-wing that could be salvged for parts, allow Din to make his way off-planet without having to deal with the Rebel Alliance at all, but that’s a thought for another day.)

Luke finds the bacta and heads back to the cave. Treats Din’s lefg first, the most serious injury to deal with -

“No,” Din says, when Luke’s about to use it all on Din’s leg, because Luke’s got some nasty injuries himself and they’re likely to get infected if he doesnt do something about them, and anyway, it’ll take longer for Din’s leg to heal than any of their other injuries, don’t waste the stuff like that.

And then!

Luke broaches the possibility of fixing the Crest by cannibalizing his X-wing, which has Din looking at him sharply.

The whole Rebel Alliance and underdogs who probably can’t afford to just waste resources, but Luke, okay, Luke.

He just looks at Din and is like, no, no, it’s fine.

(Because the whole survival situation they’re in and risking their lives for one another and this the leas Luke can do for him, alright? So just accept it already.)

Also, it’s been...a little too long since they crashed on this planet and at the very least the Alliance should have contacted him, but it’s been radio silence and Luke would rather not think about why that is. (Yet, anyway, yet.)

Anyway, the next morning Luke sets off to his X-wing to strip it for parts for the Razor Crest. Apologizes, because she’s been good for him, kept him alive since Yavin and the Death Star and thinks she understand, hopes she would anyway, because he owes Din this much, and anyway, anyway, yes.

It takes most of the morning to get everything he can off his X-wing, and then a little longer to fashion a sled to carry parts and whatnot to the Crest.

Stops at the cave to check on Din and Artoo and have lunch. Tell him how it’s going and so on, and Din is quiet as he does.

A little too much, really, even though he’s still not the chatty sort.

“I’m going with you,” he tells Luke when Luke gets ready to head back to the Crest with parts from his X-wing.

When Luke tells him why that’s not a great idea - number one reason being that Din’s leg is still broken - Din shuts him down by saying “It’s my ship.”

Which, not what he means, but Luke gets it, he does.

Thinks Din’s an idiot, but also knows he’d just follow Luke on his own if he doesn’t help him, and just.

It’s less trouble to agree help him hobble along with him rather than risk Din making his leg worse, so.

He has Artoo tow the sled with the parts while he plays human crutch for Din and they make their slow, awkward way to Din’s ship.

It takes a while, because of course, the three of them reaching the Razor Crest at dusk. Thankfully the ship is safe enough to use it for shelter, and Luke lets Din rattle around inside while he secures the parts outside.

Dinner is a quiet affair, Luke and Din exhausted after a long day, but comfortable.

Luke talks about his plans to bring the rest of the parts back the next day, and Din doesn’t quite fidget but it’s pretty obvious he’s not entirely comfortable with this. (Being indebted to Luke, which this isn’t about that at all, but it feels like it is.)

Anyway, next day Luke goes off to his X-wing for the last of the parts and whatnot, and is like oh, no, when he sees TIE fighters in the distance, like they’re looking for something.

Seem to be headed in the opposite direction from Din and the Crest, but he knows better than to think that will be the case for long. Hurries back to Din adn Artoo as fast as he can to find they’ve already started on the repairs.

Luke tells Din about the TIE fighters and it isn’t as though they hadn’t considered it, the Imperials searching the planet for them, or course not. Just. That hope the Imperials dismissed them as not worth the effort to hunt down and the whatnot.

So.

They focus on repairing the ship, working through the night and such in a Montage Sequence, because of course there’s one.

There’s a short test flight just in case, Din letting Luke fly the ship because Plot Reasons, and there’s actual light-hearted bantering going on - Luke, Mr. Fancypants fighter pilot giving Din and his clunky heavy gunship grief while Din may or may not be rolling his eyes at him and enjoying his company - TIE fighters show up.

And it’s like, well, this is unexpected, but also not.

Another exciting pew-pew dogfight takes place, this time with Luke flying the Crest and Din is so conflicted because his ship??? But also Luke is doing a dam fine job of flying it even though he’s not used to the way it handles or its limitations and anyway, anyway.

They get rid of the TIEs and share a look like oh my God, we’re still alive??? which is when a second wave of TIEs show up, and there are so many of them and they’re not going to make it?

So they decide to make a push for space, se if they can jump to hyperspace and all, but there’s an star destroyer in space and entire squadrons of TIEs and it’s not looking great for them?

Which of course is the perfect moment for the cavalry in the form of the Rebel Alliance to pop up.

Or, like. The rest of Rogue squadron and one Corellian freighter and Luke has never been so glad to see them as they keep the TIE fighters off their back long enough for everyone to make the jump to hyperspace.

They make several quick hops to avoid leading the Imperials back to the new Rebel base - they had to relocate yet again after Wedge reported back, too risky not to, which was what took them so long to come back for Luke.

Poor Din is Not Happy at the fact they have a squadron of X-wings flying escort with the Falcon - he is also Not Thinking about who the owner of that ship is or why Luke seems so happy to see them and what even is going on with the Alliance these days - because the whole thing of how this whole mess started?

So Luke is like, “Hey, so,” to Han and the others, and the Rogues stay on guard in space as he lands the Razor Crest on a nearby planet, Han and Chewie following in the Falcon.

Luke is like, so that was fun, right? as he gives Din this little smile, kind of awkward because the Rebels could use someone like him but Din’s made it clear he’s not interested, and anyway, that’s not the point, really.

They say their goodbyes and Luke goes over to join Han and Chewie and Din is like. He doesn’t know what, but following the Falcon out of atmo and getting an X-wing escort until he umps into hyperpace to wherever wasn’t it.

Also, don’t think he doesn’t notice the way Alliance ships leave him and the Razoe Crest alone after that, Skywalker, Din’s onto you.

But yes.

Din goes back to doing his thing and maybe thinks about that whole standed on a random planet with a Rebel Alliance pilot when he sees the mismatced panels and whatnot on the Crest that came from a cannibalized X-wing.

(Also, the little metal ball Grogu is fixated on may or may not have come from Luke’s X-wing in a please let me have this kind of moment of sentimental nonsense what with it surviving the destruction of the Razor Crest and all, memento with double the sentimental nonsense for Din because reasons.)

They don’t see one another again until Gideon’s cruiser, but every so often Luke hears about this one Mandalorian and a pre-Imperial gunship Adventuring about. Din hears about this guy named Skywalker, and when most people scoff and say the stories must be exaggerated, Rebel propaganda, Din wonders, doesn’t put it past Luke to be honest.

And then!

Gideon’s cruiser and “Are you a Jedi?” and Luke is like “I am,” and Din is like, okay, but when did that happen because I don’t recall that being a thing before. Grogu is like !!! and :DDDDDDDDD because Luke’s a Jedi like him and dad is all warm and squishy feelings in the Force right now, and so on.

Luke is like, well this changes things because he can’t just take Grogu and scurry off now that he’s seen what a strong bond he has with Din, and also Din, so he invites Din to come with them to his Jedi school and Din doesn’t have to think twice about it, you know?

The three of them scurry off to Luke’s Jedi school somewhere, Din taking one of the shuttles.

It’s all kinds of awkward on the trip there, Din a little concerned about how this is going to work out, but turns out he didn’t need to worry because Luke is still Luke after everything.

Still that pilot he met way back when, the one who traded off with Din on the saving one another’s lives thing and sacrificing his ship to give Din his and so on, and it’s like.

He never expected to see Luke again - fighter pilot’s life expectancy in a war and all - but here they are and it’s kind of nice actually.

No survival situation now, so the return of that awkward flirting thing that was barely an idea the by end the first time they met, both of them aware of how ridiculous they’re being but hey, not like anyone’s there to see it.

(Aside from Grogu and Artoo, but shhh, Luke and Din are pretending the two of them aren’t laughing at them all day everyday.)

the awkward flirting intensifies until the day Din presses his forehead against Luke’s, no big dramatic moment leading up to it, just this instinctive little thing, warm and comfortable and natural as anything.

When Din moves away, Luke looks up at him with this expression on his face, little smirk forming, and Din knows, okay, he knows Luke -

“I admit my understanding of Mandalorian culture is lacking, but doe this mean we’re married now?”

And it’s like.

The man is so infuriating? But they’ve also been co-habitating and co-parenting Grogu for almost a year now, become familiar with one another’s habits and quirks and somehow haven’t killed one another over the most annoying ones.

Luke’s friends and family who stop by to check in on him - them - almost definitely have a betting pool on them. (Solo for sure, even if the man still does the I’m Watching You thing to Din every time he visits.)

“Yes,” Din answers, dry as anything, because when it comes down to it they pretty much already are.

#star wars nonsense #dinluke #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#i love me some ridiculous shenanigans #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #long post

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justnerdthings · 3 years

Text

New Beginnings Ch. 14

F!Reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao

Some of you are about to be real happy.

And then real pissed off.

just a friendly warning.

Also, only two of you voted. *stares in disappointed*

@ancientowlgirl @poor-unfortunate-soul-85 @shang-hung

Enough of this. Why were you being so nervous? You were a badass. You could run into blazing infernos. Or could lunge over cliffs. You could make the earth shake!

You took a deep breath and straightened as you looked to Lao. Alright. Do it. Just do it! You opened your mouth, ready to declare that you were more than impressed with his abs…

Only a small sound escaped you. Your lungs betrayed your sliver of confidence. Lao’s brows raised in confused concern.

You shut your mouth. Your lips pursed together. What had you been thinking? Of course you couldn’t do this. You sighed in your defeat and looked away again.

Lao chuckled as he recognized that familiar doubt come to your face. “Just say it,” he told you, earning himself a small cornered glance from you. He moved in front of you. “What? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

When you shifted your eyes away again to avoid looking at him, he just moved into your new line of sight. “What is it?” He pressed again.

You shook your head and turned away, only for him to once again move in front of you. “We’re not leaving this spot until you tell me. You really gotta get over this--… whatever it is. How bad could it really be? It’s alright if you’re cautious about water now. You said you almost drowned. It’s fine. We can work on that.”

“It’s not that,” you told him, fighting the annoyance in your voice.

“Then what?”

You sighed in defeat again. “I really don’t think I should—”

“Is it a woman thing?”

“What? No!” you gave him a disgusted look.

“Then what?”

You pressed your lips together in defiance.

Lao frowned. You noticed his spirit deflating. Dammit, he must have felt like you didn’t trust him again… You didn’t entirely, but the way his eyes looked right then made your heart drop. Damn puppy dog eyes. You looked away and grumbled. He hadn’t heard what it was you’d said so he stepped closer. “What?”

You took a deep breath. You said it a bit louder, but not any more clear.

“I can’t understand you when you mumble,” he’d told you.

“You’re hot!” You then blurted out, only to quickly shut your mouth and freeze like you’d just been caught red-handed while committing some crime.

Lao stared at you in silence for a moment, then grinned and began to laugh. You sank with embarrassment. You knew you shouldn’t have said anything. Now he was just laughing at you like all those guys you’d tried to ask out in high school. Dammit. Damn him! You turned in a huff and began to hurry away.

“Hey!” Lao called after you, and soon caught your wrist to stop you. He turned you to face him, that big grin still stretched across his face, but he was trying to fight it off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”

“I’m used to it,” you told him, shame dripping from your words.

“No. No, it’s not like that. I swear.”

“It’s fine,” You tried to pull your hand back, but he gripped your wrist tighter and gently pulled you closer. You were wary as you looked up at his face.

“That’s what was so hard for you to say? That I’m hot?”

Your brows sunk as you frowned again.

“Y/N…” His grin slowly came back. “It’s fine. Really. Thank you.”

Your eyes shifted away. This was so embarrassing. Lao’s grip shifted from your wrist, gaining your attention, and you watched as he took your hand. Your chin was then lifted gently, making you look back to his face. He let his fingers linger along your jaw. That funny feeling in the pit of your stomach started up again. The one that knotted it the day before, just before Liu had pulled you into a kiss.

The icy chill of adrenaline washed over you as you stared up at him. Oh no. It was happening again. Now with Lao. Oh no. No. No. No. This was not a good idea. What if Liu found out? What did that even mean? Were you and Liu a couple now? Is that what happened yesterday? You had no idea. You two never said anything about that. Maybe it was just a one time thing? No. No, Lao had told you that Liu was interested in you. Maybe you two were a couple now. But now, Lao…

Oh, this was not going right at all. Not both of them. You didn’t know what Liu had in mind, but Lao… Lao had told you days ago that he was picky about his relationships. He was looking for a wife. He was looking for a mother for his future children. And just a few hours ago, he’d made it apparent that you were being considered for both those things. Oh no. No. No. This had to stop.

Lao’s eyes had shifted to your lips. Your breath hitched as he leaned towards you. You pulled your head back as a dark little piece of your mind screamed at you to let it happen. “Lao…” You said hesitantly.

He stopped. His brows knotted as he noticed a conflict on your face.

“I can’t,” you told him gently. “Not with… I mean… Liu…” You couldn’t form a proper sentence as guilt began sinking it’s talons into you.

Lao let out a slow sigh. Right… Liu. Liu had acted first, hadn’t he? And Liu had gotten so defensive over you last night. Lao let your hand go and stepped back. “Sorry.”

"No." You moved towards him, frowning. "Don't be… You…" Oh, god, how could you say this without sounding pathetic. "I… This is all really new to me. No one's ever been interested in me before. And now… Now I have two guys interested in me and they're practically brothers."

Lao watched you as a familiar hint of panic began to lurk in your eyes.

"I don't know what I'm doing…" you admitted. "Up until yesterday, I'd never kissed anyone."

Lao nodded and suddenly realized how uncomfortable you must have felt. Strange place. Strange people. Strange customs. And now strange feelings. He took a deep breath. Tears had threatened to fall down your cheeks. Lao was not good at dealing with crying. And thinking he may have caused this bout, dread and helplessness weighed on his shoulders.

Lao reached out and pulled you right into his chest. His strong arms wrapped around you and held you tight. He wasn't sure if this was the right move or not, but it felt like something you'd appreciate.

You couldn't help the tears as you were held. You cried right into his chest as anxiety surged through your body. You felt a gentle weight on the top of your head. "It's alright. I'm sorry," Lao said softly. You realized then that it was his chin resting on the top of your head. That was… sweet.

He must have held you for a few minutes before the awkwardness overwhelmed him. He lifted his head and pulled back a bit to look at your face. "You want to get some breakfast?"

You'd almost forgot that you hadn't eaten yet. Nodding, you pulled out of his arms and for a second it seemed like he didn't want to let you go, but had relented. You wiped at your wet eyes as you turned and headed for the dining room.

You were sitting next to Liu again at the breakfast table. Your eyes were still puffy and red, but you had assured Liu it was nothing. Lao didn’t do anything. It was just anxiety. He didn’t seem completely convinced, but let it go.

You both kept stealing glances at each other. You even stole a few of Lao, who wasn’t even bothering to hide his own efforts. A red hue stained your cheeks again.

The door opened and in walked a monk. He walked right over to the table and handed Lao an envelope with a polite bow. He bowed to you and Liu as well before taking his leave. You watched curiously before looking back to Lao as he opened the envelope.

“You guys… get mail?” You asked.

“We’re not completely in the dark ages,” Liu joked with an amused chuckle.

You grinned and looked back to Lao. Your grin quickly faded as you saw the look on his face. “What? What is it?” you asked carefully.

“Nothing. It’s fine.” He lied. Lao shook his head and folded the letter back up.

“It’s not nothing,” you pressed.

“It’s fine. Just junk,” Lao dismissed.

Liu reached for the empty envelope. He read over the address. “Your mother.”

“Yeah.” Lao took the envelope back with a sigh.

“What’d she say?” You asked.

“Nothing.” Lao was being so avoidant.

“She sent you a blank letter?” You asked in disbelief. No. It was definitely something.

“Yeah—Hey!” Lao reached out, but it was too late, you had swiped the letter from him. Your pride quickly fell as you looked over the handwritten letter.

It was entirely in chinese.

“Oh.” You frowned in your defeat. “Uh… I… I can’t read this,” you admitted.

Lao reached for it again, but Liu had grabbed it before he could. Lao sighed heavily. “Really? It’s none of your business—”

“Your brother and Ju had a baby?” Liu asked. “I didn’t know that they were expecting.”

Lao sighed again. “Yeah. Didn’t think it was that important to mention.”

“That’s great news!” You chimed in, beaming. “Why aren’t you excited? You’re an uncle!”

“Yeah. Great.” Lao wasn’t at all excited.

“Oh…” Liu mused as he read over the rest of the letter.

“Yeah…” Lao sighed as shame washed over his face.

“Don’t let it get to you, Kung Lao,” Liu told him.

“Easier said than done.” Lao seemed so defeated.

Liu frowned and you looked between them in utter confusion. “What? Don’t let what get to him?”

Neither one of them said anything for a moment, much to your annoyance. “C’mon. What’s wrong? I thought we were supposed to be a team?” Weren’t you? Shouldn’t you know what was bothering each other? What had Lao’s mother said in the letter?

Liu and Lao exchanged a glance before Liu looked back to the letter. He cleared his throat. “To my dearest, Kung Lao. We have welcomed your brother Chang and his wife’s first child into the family. They were blessed with a son who they have named Kung Jin. I hope this serves as motivation for you. How much longer are you going to wait? You are twenty-seven years old, unwed, and childless. I do not need to remind you that you carry the responsibility to carry on your ancestor’s legacy. Mortal Kombat is only five years away and you have not yet produced a son to continue the tradition. If you die in the tournament without a son to carry on the name, shame will fall onto this family. This is completely irresponsible of you. Your father is very ashamed of you. Stop fooling around. Love, Your mother.”

You could not believe your ears. “No. She didn’t write that,” you said, denying such a thing. How could a mother speak that way to her own child? You shook your head. This had to be a joke.

But Liu and Lao weren’t laughing.

It sunk in. What Liu read to you was real. Lao’s mother really had wrote those words. Your jaw hardened. “That bitch…” you mused, not meaning to say it out loud. Both of them heard it, but neither defended Lao’s mother’s honor. They just exchanged another glance with each other. You reached out and took the letter. You still couldn’t read it, but you didn’t want to if such awful words were on it.

You tore it up.

Liu and Lao both watched you in mild surprise as you shredded that letter into the tiniest pieces. “This never happened,” you told them both and brushed the pieces of paper off the table and your lap.

“Y/N…” Lao spoke, but stopped as you stared up at him defiantly.

“Never. Happened,” you repeated. “Got lost in the mail,” you offered.

Liu grinned and looked down to his plate.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was well after breakfast and you were training with Liu. You were balancing on the pole again… well, not really. Your balance was awful. Your concentration was shot. Each time you fell, you didn’t even pay enough attention to be upset with yourself. Liu noticed it immediately, but chose to not say anything at first, hoping you would work through your intrusive thoughts. But it was becoming obvious that you weren’t even trying to avoid them.

He let out a small sigh, and that was enough to catch your attention. You looked up to him with knotted brows.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Just can’t believe a mother would say that kind of stuff.”

He nodded. It had stayed on his mind too, but he was used to it. He’d known the woman almost his entire life. “She means well.”

“Bullshit,” you hissed.

Liu didn’t even fight your protest. He nodded in agreement. “She’s always been like that,” he told you. “Ever since we were children. His father isn’t any better.”

You frowned.

“He didn’t have the best childhood.”

“Don’t tell me he was abused…” You dreaded that thought.

Liu pursed his lips for a moment. That’s all you needed to see to know the answer. God, dammit. If you ever met that woman… if you ever met Lao’s father… No. You couldn’t even beat Lao. How good of fighters would his parents be? You sighed and let your clenched jaw relax.

“Thank the gods Lao turned out as well as he did,” you breathed. Liu nodded.

“I remember when we were children and I would notice new bruises on his arms or face. He never talked about them. He never had to. Sometimes I would just take him away from the temple and we’d run around… get in a bit of trouble together. Anything to distract him, really,” Liu said.

“Did the temple ever do anything about his parents?” You asked.

Liu shook his head. “They were practically untouchable. Still are, I imagine.”

“Like royalty,” you accused.

Liu nodded. “Something like that.”

“Still no excuse to beat your kid… Never an excuse for that.”

“I agree.”

“Has his family always been like that? Even his grandparents?”

Liu shrugged his shoulders. “Never met them.”

“Aunts? Uncles?”

Liu shrugged again.

“This really pisses me off, Liu.”

“Mhm.” He nodded. It upset him too. “But, they can’t do it anymore.”

“What about that baby? Is his brother like that?”

“Chang was always jealous of Lao. It wouldn’t surprise me if he has his own issues.”

“That’s not comforting to hear.”

“I know.”

“What about that baby, Liu?”

“I don’t know.”

You didn’t like that answer. You didn’t like that answer at all.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #liu kang #kung lao #raiden #reader insert #fanfic #fic #reader x character #ludi lin #max huang #tadanobu asano #new beginnings #reader x liu kang #reader x kung lao #liu kang x reader #kung lao x reader

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fascination-street-writing · 3 years

Text

Once You Loved Her - Now You’ve Lost Her | Yan!Pannacotta Fugo x F!Reader

Pangs of familiarity fill Fugo’s heart, in the way that Mista looks at you, because it is how you used to gawk at the strawberry blonde man himself, when you were both still young. As if he were a spring and you a parched disciple.

For skully-greg: Who suggested an angsty piece featuring Pannacotta Fugo

Content Warnings: Not S/F/W Content, Yandere Behaviors, Implied Child Abuse, Implied Non-Con, Past Underage Relationship, & Unhealthy Relationship Dynamics

It is raining again.

Pannacotta Fugo sighs, releasing the breath that he has held in for far too long. He does not bother to avoid the puddles on the sidewalk. The soles of his shoes are already ruined. In the distance, the clock tower chimes as morning turns to noon. Church bells ring – the sounding of a wedding, no doubt. Though, it is a particularly dreary day for one.

He can see it all. An ivory lace gown and a black silk tuxedo. Baby’s-breath and roses. Candles on the altars. Matrimony – everything he might have had if life was more forgiving. Alas, his stomach curls at the thought, and so he forces his mind elsewhere. First, to the file tucked beneath his arm, which he must deliver to Don Giovanna before the day ends. Then, to the faint rumbling in his belly that reminds him of his promise to get tea with Sheila; never mind the matter wherein there is another woman whom he would much rather divulge in menial conversations with, over two saucers of earl grey.

It is you he has lost.

He passes the boutiques that you had so many times begged him to accompany you to. He never said yes, because he always felt that there were far more important things to do than to waste money on clothing (it simply reminds him too much of his parents, always so preoccupied with appearances) – and so you went alone. A street vendor selling elaborate bouquets hoists a tarp over his stall to protect his wares from the unrelenting storm. Fugo had once thought to buy you flowers – he refrained, as he knew they would die within the week.

A head of hair the color of yours catches his attention. He stops.

Through the display window of L’Abito di Fiori, he watches, helpless, as you lift a dress shirt made of pressed cotton to the torso of Guido Mista. The hanger dangles from your grasp as you gauge the shirt’s sizing to his body – and his eyes fall to your face, taking in the expression of determination that sweeps your brow. Pangs of familiarity fill Fugo’s heart, in the way that Mista looks at you, because it is how you used to gawk at the strawberry blonde man himself, when you were both still young.

As if he were a spring and you a parched disciple.

You bat away the dress shirt and offer Mista another; one that is slimmer and formfitting. Fugo has almost forgotten the occasion. It is an occasion indeed, as in no other circumstance might Mista give quite so much care about his uniform: Don Giovanna’s compleanno gala is nearly upon you all.

You say something to Mista that is unintelligible to Fugo, though by the way the chocolate-brown eyed man smiles, he knows it is nothing good. The long-forgotten, youthful rage within him has become an acquaintance as of late – a rekindling of something that ought to have gone away. The file snaps in his grasp. Pages upon pages of the report that took him a month to compose and organize scatter amongst the puddles.

Fugo stares at the ruin and sighs. Fishing his cellphone out from his pocket, he dials Don Giovanna’s number. Tea with Sheila will have to wait - not that he minds.

“Buon pomeriggio, Fugo,” the young Don speaks. Years of strain weigh heavily on his tone. “I was just about to call you – Monsieur Polnareff is getting impatient waiting for your report. How soon can you be here?”

“Ah, about that, Giorno. Mie scuse, but there’s been an incident . . .”

Il Libeccio is quiet, though perhaps since it is far too early in the day to be patronized. You and Fugo peer over the menu, as if something new might strike your fancy. In all honesty, you have committed it to memory; still, it makes for a good way to pass the time. Unreciprocated teasing glances are thrown his way. Unreciprocated, that is, until he grins only slightly – enough to be noticed by you before the corners of his lips fall.

You are glad that none of the others are here yet. Your moments with Fugo have always been cut far too short. First as children, when he would be ushered off to his studies and you to assist your mother in her duties around his parents’ estate. Now as two teenagers pulled apart by tasks assigned from Bucciarati.

If not for Fugo, you never would have joined Passione. Though from opposite ends of the social hierarchy, it was you who kept him grounded amidst the berating and the abuse – and the same can be said of him regarding you. Trauma is indiscriminatory, and it has an interesting way of bringing two thwarted souls together. Even after everything he had endured, his thoughts were of you. Following his expulsion from the university, he came back for you. With nothing to lose, and an optimistic inkling of something to gain, you joined him.

He took you from one life and gave you another. And for that, you will always be indebted to him.

“Have you two decided?” the waitress asks. “Or perhaps a bit longer?”

She clicks the pen in her hand. Fugo does not recognize her, and he realizes she must be new. Otherwise, she would know better than to inquire before the others have even arrived. “A few more minutes, please,” he says. “Grazie."

She obliges and leaves. You place a hand over your stomach, contemplating your options. “Fugo?” He raises an eyebrow and glances in your direction. “Will you share some cake with me?”

“Maybe. What flavor?”

He is not one to spoil his appetite with sweets; however, he might indulge for you. In truth, there is not much would not do at your behest; even as a boy, he has always loved you. You hum to yourself, dragging your finger down the dessert menu. He swallows the lump in his throat. A knowing smirk graces your face as you give him your answer.

“Strawberry.”

The banquet hall has been done up rather nicely. Round tables draped with white-satin tablecloths dot the perimeter of the room, each set with six chairs and a bouquet of lilies. The hired musicians – comprised of the most desirable instrumentalists in Napoli – play a lively little jazz tune. The caterer bores over the display of desserts, ensuring that not a single plate has been moved out of line.

Seated together, Mista lifts a forkful of strawberry dolce to your mouth. It hits your tongue and melts like sugar. Don Giovanna has spared no expense in preparing his gala, and the cake is no exception. You look far too elegant, wearing that beaded sheath dress while clasping a champagne flute betwixt manicured fingers. Your mulberry lipstick stains the rim like a kiss. Without a doubt, you are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight. Mista knows this, as do the men who pass you by and let their gazes’ wander.

And so does Fugo.

“If you squeeze your glass any tighter, it’ll snap in half. God forbid you’ll hurt yourself. I’d rather not end my night with taking you to the hospital.”

He eases the grip on his goblet. The color rushes back to his knuckles. Trish sips her champagne beside him, oblivious to the fury boiling within him, but not his envy. “You can be bitter every other night of the year. Don’t be tonight. It’s Giorno’s birthday, and we spent too much money on this damned party. Please, don’t cause a scene or do anything stupid. I’m begging you, Fugo.”

He bites back a scoff, never taking his eyes off you. “I’m not ‘causing a scene,’” he insists.

Trish frowns. “No, but you’re about to. Judging by the way you were practically strangling that poor cup, I know you’re only seconds away from throttling Mista.”

“I have every right to be upset,” Fugo tells the pink-haired woman.

“No, you really don’t,” she retorts. “You should be glad she moved on. Be happy that she’s happy.”

A bit of icing sticks to your lip. Mista swipes it away with his thumb before pressing his mouth to yours for a quick kiss. To Fugo, it is a nauseating sight. “You don’t think I haven’t tried?” he demands. “It’s been absolute agony this entire time. I still love her – so much that I hate her. She’s a reminder of everything I’ve done wrong.”

“You need try harder. It’s been four years. You’re going to ruin yourself at this point.” As if he has not already. “Listen, Fugo. I probably shouldn’t tell you this. Mista’s planning on proposing to her soon. He already bought a ring. You should make things right between you and [Y/N]; don’t spend the rest of your life resenting your best friend for marrying your ex. After all, maybe this can be an incentive to get over yourself and grow up.”

With that, Trish collects her belongings and departs, leaving an emptied champagne flute as a marker of where she once sat. He hardly notices her absense; he has grown numb. Marriage. An ivory gown for you and a silk tuxedo for Mista. Baby’s breath in a bouquet and a single rose in a boutonniere for Mista. Candles on the altars lit for Mista.

Fugo recoils. The thought of you marrying anyone other than himself is a death sentence. Mista stands, having been beckoned by Don Giovanna, depriving you of a companion. There is stock in Trish’s advice – but it takes courage to follow through.

You practically ignore him when he claims Mista’s vacated seat. You refuse to meet his violet stare; the band is far more interesting, anyways. Softly, he speaks your name. “How are you?” he asks.

“Good,” you answer, short. “Perfect.”

He awaits the refrain, yet you utter nothing else. And so, he tries again. “It doesn’t seem like you’re having much fun.”

“I was, before you sat down.”

Your words sting, as if you have pierced him through the heart with a wicked blade.

“You look beautiful.” You roll your brilliant eyes. If not for Don Giovanna’s sake, you might have thrown the remainder of your drink in Fugo’s handsome face. You will settle for audaciousness instead. That is, until his fingers coil around your wrist so tight the bones may snap. He hoists you from the chair, and with little regard to your protesting – deaf to the guests who can hear nothing over the sound of jazz –, he leads you from the banquet hall. Your refusal to reciprocate the conversation would have swayed any man from pursuing you. Any man, except Fugo.

Your bed has been made, and now you must lie in it.

Your back meets the wall of the closet. Fugo braces you with his own hand, warding off the wood’s bite. The unoccupied fingers of his opposite hand reach for the hardened nub between your folds, toying you open. He feels your core tighten around his shaft and an airy moan escapes you.

It is too hot, but neither of you seem to mind it very much.

With each aching thrust, he throbs in you. You bounce against him, held up by his body that pins you in place. The hand on your back trails up to the base of your spine, threading in your hair and jerking your head away. You tingle at his bluntness. Encouraged by it, you reach for his neck and pull his face down to yours, claiming his mouth with your own.

It is sweeter than he ever imagined. Your teeth graze his plump lip. He groans as you slide your tongue in his mouth, battling for dominance. Though, as accosted by the uncomfortable angle that your head has been bent to, you have no other choice than to surrender. Incited by his little victory, Fugo relinquishes his hold and pulls out, leaving you feeling utterly empty. You whine, practically keening for his touch.

He turns you around until your chest hits the wall. His manhood, stiff and slick with your wetness, teases the crest of your behind – and he enters you again, swiftly, full of unspent energy that propels your forward. Your palms smack the surface before you, desperate for something to cling onto. You settle for the mounted coatrack. Fugo’s fingers latch onto your hips with such ferocity that bruises will be sure to form in the coming days.

Purple will look good on you, he decides, and so he grips even harder. You cry out, struggling to meet his pace. Excited, nonetheless.

“Strawberry cake, huh?” he asks between soft grunts, his voice husky.

You laugh, breathless. “I thought it might rile you up,” you tell him, confessing your intention. “I took a gamble, and it paid off.”

“It did, cara.”

He is content that you had been the one to make the first move – because he could never find the gull to do it himself. To have you writhing in ecstasy at his touch is a reverie personified and more; a newfound warmth and comfort, only for him.

The doorknob shakes. Despite Fugo’s strawberry-patterned tie fastened to the overhead rack from the handle, which acts as a makeshift barricade, you panic and push off the wall, bucking into his torso.

“P-Panni –” you whisper. He thrusts deeper, eliciting a pleasant noise from you. “We have to stop. Someone’ll hear us.”

He urges you back into place. You cry out again when he hits your sensitive depths, but he is quick to stifle your pandemonium by placing his hand over your mouth; it is dampened, clammy with sweat, just like the rest of your body and his. “You have to be quiet,” he croons in your ear. You shiver and grind against the fullness between your legs. “Can you do that for me, bella? Starai tranquilla per me?”

You nod. Fugo feeds on your eagerness, picking up his pace. Unable to contain his own moans, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your intimacy-induced musk. It is intoxicating. Not long after, you surrender to the coil in your belly – you reach your limit and come undone. Exhausted, you slump onto his torso. His hand falls from your mouth, moving to grasp the mounds of your chest.

With one last cry, he finishes, coating your walls with his release. He traces the crook of your cheek and kisses you twice more. Relationships between members of Passione are dangerous – affection is vulnerability. And yet, Fugo would give everything away to be vulnerable for you; a promise amongst many that he will not keep. In the moment, however, it makes for a pretty sentiment.

Shades of greens and violets dance throughout your vision. Content, you flash him a tired smile.

“Before we go back out, there’s something I should tell you,” you begin. “I love you, Panni. I always have.”

His heart blooms. Of course, deep down, he already knew.

You collapse to the ground in a heap of fabric that once resembled a gown, yours knees skinning against the floors. Sore, used, and broken. The beads of the intricate embroidery scatter from being torn away in Fugo’s mood. An uncomfortable stickiness coats your inner thighs. Sobbing, you clutch the remnants of your dress, shielding yourself from the man who violated you so.

From the man whom you once adored like the moon amongst stars.

He readjusts the zipper to his trousers. Painfully, your legs vibrate. Otherwise, you might stand on your own. Noticing this, he extends his hand to you, expecting you to accept it so as to pull you to your feet. Incredulous, you smack him away, pushing yourself further adrift despite the dissent of your limbs. You have been set ablaze from the inside out.

“Get away from me,” you demand. There is not enough space on earth to satisfy your longing to distance your being and his. For a moment, you think you have hurt him – and irks you to do it again. “Ti odio, Fugo. I hate you more than anything else. Do you understand me? I hate you!”

He winces, struck by your venom; still, he holds his hand out. You would rather cast yourself from the nearest balcony than to welcome his help. His fleeting patience diminishes – before you may throw another jab his way, he has pulled you to stand, his hands nestled too tightly around your biceps. You manage to wrench yourself free and lash out. Your palm meets his face in a hurried slap. He staggers backwards, relinquishing his grip. At first, he feels nothing.

And then, pinpricks.

“[Y/N], I –”

“Save your apology for someone who cares.”

The door slams behind you. He listens until he can no longer hear the hurried sounds of your heels clacking off the marble floors. You are gone, again – to Mista or whoever else is to blame for Fugo’s loneliness. Sighing heavily, he turns to the mirror above the vanity.

He remembers a time, at the age of sixteen, when he was far too afraid of mirrors, because he never cared for the man who stared back at him. A day in Pompeii; you were so fearful for his wellbeing that you nearly fainted when he came back, bloodied and worn down.

The red handprint upon his face is nothing more than a mockery among many others to his character. He finds the object nearest to his reach: a silver drinking carafe that has been used as a vase for roses beside a candle with a smoldered wick atop a cherry-wood nightstand. Thrown from his fingers, the carafe shatters the mirror. A web of faces in mimicry of his own screams in anguish.

In his rage, he sees not red, but purple. Violent purple and harlequin motifs. Tears form in his eyes – though, to be honest, for all his time spent in utter bitterness, he has forgotten what pure unadulterated regret feels like.

It feels like it is raining again.

| 3008 Words |

#pannacotta fugo x reader #fugo x reader #pannacotta fugo #jjba reader insert #jjba x reader #vento aureo #yandere

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mulletcal · 4 years

Text

we do it the best - a calum hood one shot.

gif credit: from this post by @myloverboyash who is v sweet and let me use these!

a/n: this is some porn without much plot tbh, i blame @cthofficial. also this is the first thing i wrote with my new laptop so she rly got broken in w this one word count: 2.2k warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), light dom!cal, lil bit of choking, use of the word ‘daddy’, blood mention (nothing graphic), oral (male receiving) towards the end, a bit of throat fucking, i can’t think of anything else - lowkey making a sex tape if that makes anyone uncomfortable.

i’m not saying this is borderline the filthiest thing i’ve written but if the shoe fits

*****

Calum knew before he started dating you that you were a YouTuber; he had seen your videos, and even admitted upon meeting him that he had used one of your videos to reference when he was attempting to make a vegetarian pad see ew. You never thought that you’d find him in your kitchen on a sunny afternoon helping you make cupcakes.

The two of you had yet to go public, so when Calum asked you if he could help you make cupcakes you were surprised. There was speculation about the two of you being together, but no one was ever able to make the connection that proved it, always some sort of source falling through.

“Cal,” You laughed, picking an egg shell out of the batter, “You gotta watch.”

“Sorry baby,” he mumbled, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he tried to crack the second egg without any shells, the bright grin you adored appearing on his lips when he succeeded.

You let out a soft chuckle, pressing your lips to his cheek before you continued to talk through what the two of you were doing. Calum was listening to you as you spoke, but what he was more so eagerly waiting for was getting to lick the cake batter off the attachment of your hand mixer. He had offered to buy you a stand mixer, but you also knew you were able to buy it for yourself, and you kind of enjoyed being able to mix it almost entirely yourself.

Calum finished greasing the cake pan as you had instructed, so you poured the mix into the pans and set them into the oven while he set the timer. When you turned to him, you grinned, “Clean up ti-”

Your words fell short when you saw him absolutely devouring the cake mix off of one of the beaters, tongue moving almost pornographically against it, causing your breath to hitch in your throat.

“Problem, angel?” Calum smirked, wiggling his eyebrows in a way that told you exactly that he knew what he was doing.

Clearing your throat, you moved past him to grab the other beater that still had cake mix on it. You began to clean it with your tongue, letting out a soft moan at how good it tasted, “No problem at all baby.”

Calum only let you continue with your work for a moment longer, swiping his fingers on the inside of the bowl to get some batter from there before holding it up to your lips, “Since you want a taste so bad, go ahead.” He had been attempting to tease you, sure, but two can play at that game. Pulling the beater away from your lips, you leaned forward to take his fingers into your mouth, teasingly rolling your tongue over them, your eyes never leaving Calums’.

“You are an absolute menace,” He whined, savouring the feeling of your tongue. “Hop up on the counter baby girl, I know the perfect sweet to tide me over till the cake is ready.”

Rolling your eyes, you made the few short steps to the counter, about to hop up when Calum grabbed the back of your shirt to stop you, “What d’you think you’re doin’?”

“Getting on the counter, as requested,” You furrowed your brows, turning to face your boyfriend with a slightly confused look - did he really just forget what he had instructed you to do?

“Oh, I see, so I’m being expected to do all the work? You know the rules, baby girl, pants off,” He said with a tap of your thigh that sent shivers up your spine. You nonetheless complied to his request, stripping your leggings and underwear in one go before finally hopping onto the counter. The cool marble felt like a shock against your dangerously warm skin,making you gasp quietly.

Calum started from your ankles, working his lips slowly against your skin as he made his way up. Pushing your legs apart further, Calum began to suck hickies to the inside of your thigh, knowing how much you enjoyed being marked by him. Once he was satisfied that he had teased you just enough, and left enough marks on you, he continued his trails of kisses further upwards, stopping just short of where you needed it most.

“How much time have we got baby?” Calum asked, peering up at you through thick lashes.

“Ten minutes.”

“Perfect, I can do it in less than that probably.” His teasing smirk made you roll your eyes once more; he knew you were already worked up just from his light teasing, of course it wouldn’t take him long, he knew all of your weaknesses.

Calum dove right in, not even trying to be shy as he wrapped his plump lips around your clit, circling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Moaning softly, you arched into his touch, tightening your fingers in his blonde locks. His fingers teased your entrance, making you whine, urging him to continue.

When he finally pressed two fingers inside of you, it nearly sent you over the edge right then and there, the anticipation almost too much for you. Calum kept a sinister pace, his lips and tongue working overtime against your clit, clearly determined to beat the clock. Hooking his fingers inside of you, you clenched around him as you let out a particularly loud moan, feeling him grin against you since he could tell you were getting close.

“You gonna cum for me baby? Come on, I know you’re almost there,” He moaned against you, removing his fingers. You wanted to groan at the loss, but he seemed to switch his fingers and tongue, pressing his tongue against your entrance while his fingers circled your clit.

Lifting your head to look down at him, your eyes quickly glanced over to the timer, realizing there was only ten seconds left. Huffing out a laugh, it was cut off by you moaning as your orgasm overtook you. Falling over the edge, you moaned out Calum’s name, rocking your hips against his tongue. The timer going off was lost on you as Calum worked you through your high, his tongue cleaning up the mess you made.

When you finally came down, your breathing was still laboured, but you were able to whisper out, “The cakes.”

Calum laughed, resting his head against your thigh and glanced up at you, “I’ll go get the cakes out of the oven on one condition..” He trailed off, waiting for you to look at him. Once you had, he continued, “You bend over this counter so once I do I can come properly appreciate this cake.”

With a pinch to your ass, he rose to his full height, leaving you with your mouth hanging open. You complied of course, eager to see what he was going to do next, upper half resting against the counter. There was commotion behind you, Calum taking the cakes out of the oven and setting them on the top of it. When he turned around, he let out a low whistle when his eyes landed on you.

“Look at this, my pretty baby. So ready for me, just desperate for my cock, hm?” His fingers trailed over the swell of your ass before delivering a sharp smack causing you to yelp in surprise, “Answer me when I’m speaking to you.”

“Yes Daddy, please…” You whined, arching into his hand that was rubbing over the red mark that was forming.

“Please what?”

Another smack, this time to the other cheek, and another yelp from you, cheek pressing against the counter, “Want your cock, please Daddy.”

Calum pressed his clothed lower half against you, feeling his length on the back of your thigh, “You gonna be nice and loud for me princess? Let everyone know who’s making you feel so good?”

“Yes,” you whispered, pressing yourself back against him further, smiling when his hands came to rest on your ass.

“Patience is a virtue, my sweet.” Calum slid his sweats down just enough to free his length, positioning himself so his cock was pressing against your entrance. You waited with baited breath for him to push in, sighing with relief when he did. The familiar stretch made you feel warm, adjusting your hips as he filled you perfectly.

As Calum moved his hips, yours hit the counter, well aware that you would have bruises tomorrow, but you welcomed it. As long as it meant Calum kept going, you didn’t care what minor pain you got.

“M’not hearing you, baby girl,” He murmured, sliding his hand around your throat to cup it and pull you back towards him, “Wanna hear you screamin’ for me.”

“Gonna have to work a lot harder than that, Daddy,” you moaned softly, arching your hips back into him. It was as if you had set something off in him, him never having to deal with you being borderline bratty. He squeezed your neck once more before letting go, allowing your body to fall back onto the counter.

Calum’s hands instead went to cup your ass, rubbing his hands over it gingerly as his movements slowed, contemplating his next moves. You knew it was coming, but his hand delivering a rough slap lurched you forward, writhing under his touch. The second smack was met with a loud moan, and Calum chuckled behind you, “You like to seem so innocent and sweet, but if only the world saw you like I do.”

His pace picked back up without warning, his thrusts more determined than before. At that point you had given up on trying to put up a front for him, letting your body give in to wave after wave of pleasure he was giving you with each thrust. When Calum angled his hips so he brushed against your sweet spot, you let out a strangled cry, fists opening and closing as if you were gripping something that wasn’t there. Large hands came down to sharply land against your now sensitive skin once more, the pain only bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Reaching around, Calum began to circle his fingers around your clit once again, pushing you over the edge without you being able to give him much of a warning. He didn’t seem to care though, continuing to fuck you through it. Your loud moans echoed off the walls, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood.

When you came down, Calum’s large frame leaned into you so he could speak into your ear, “I’m close baby, where do you want me to cum?”

“My mouth,” You said softly, your voice now bordering on hoarse.

You could feel Calum grin against your shoulder, sliding out of you gently causing you to sigh at the feeling. He gently coaxed you to your knees as he continued to stroke himself, waiting for you to take him into your mouth. Teasing the tip with your tongue, you brought your hand up to replace Calum’s stroking him with likely the same amount of pressure.

Calum brought his hands to the back of your head, holding you there while he slowly began to thrust into your mouth. He knew you enjoyed these things, but he never hesitated to go slow at the start so you had a chance to say no regardless. Opening up your mouth more, you allowed him to fuck into your mouth, moaning at the sensation.

It didn’t take him much longer to finish, since he had already been so close only a minute prior. You kept moving your mouth to work him through it, soft whimpers falling from his lips at the stimulation. Once he had finished, you gently cleaned him up with your tongue before taking his outstretched hands so he could help you stand. Your legs were still wobbly from the two orgasms you had, but you stepped back so you could lean against the counter. Calum’s thumb came up to swipe at your lip, collecting anything you may have missed around your own mouth before placing it against your lips for you to clean off.

“Guess we should probably actually clean up, huh,” You laughed, pulling him closer so you could press a kiss to his lips.

“I’m gonna go get you some soothing cream for that pretty ass of yours, but I can help you clean up after, hm?”

When Calum went to go gather the supplies, you began to clean up. Glancing up, you noticed the camera was still filming, freezing in place when you realized that it most definitely caught not one, but two angles of what you had just done. Your first immediate thought was to delete the footage, but then you thought of the fact that Calum would be leaving for tour soon, and phone sex didn’t always do it for him, also with your anniversary coming up, how could you resist the urge to edit together the footage for him?

So when Calum opened up a simple USB thumbstick for your anniversary, you could tell he was confused, until you reminded him of your time in the kitchen, his eyes were wide and it prompted excited kisses and missing a dinner reservation.

tag list: @haikucal @talkfastromance4 @softbabiestan @boyfriend-cal @calum-uncrowned @wildflowerirwin @irwinkitten @irwindoll @gosh-im-short @thesubtweeter @ridingcthood @loveroflrh @mantlereid @inlovehoodx @n-ctarinenga @g-l-pierce @thecurlsofgod @idontneedanyone @califl0wer @clemmings @cthofficial @ashtonsos

#calum hood #calum hood one shot #calum hood smut #calum hood fanfiction #5sos fanfiction

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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smediumsmeatbae · 4 years

Note

14 and 34 for Steve Rogers? If you are doing the NSFW prompts! No worries if you aren’t! Thank you

Thank you so much for requesting this! I apologize that this is so late. September was bonkers for me. Hope you like this!

TITLE: A Hero’s Sacrifice PAIRING: Steve Rogers x Reader SUMMARY: Steve is always sacrificing himself for the good of the mission. What happens when he leaves his teammates high and dry? WORDS: 2,384 WARNINGS: Smut! No one under 18 plz. Swearing, angst in the beginning, bad smut writing *shrugs*. A/N: What??? K’s actually putting some writing out there??? Omg. :D This is my first smut with Steve and my first writing in about a month or so I think. So I’m a bit rusty. Also I suck at summaries so sorry. Lmao. Also, a special shout out to @angrythingstarlight. She has been a constant encouragement and companion through this really bad writing block. Thank you so much, sweet friend! No beta, all mistakes are my own. Please do not post this anywhere else without my permission Likes are amazing. Reblogs and comments are better.

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The crisp New York air kissed your cheeks as you stood on the rooftop of the Avengers compound. It was a quiet and clear night, crickets chirping softly in the background as the round moon lit the scenery before you and put everything in a hazy glow. This peaceful scene, however, did nothing to quell the anger and anxiety in your bones. The mission had been compromised. Your teammates and you barely got out with your lives, all because your leader, your captain, had to be a goddamn hero.

Yes he was Captain America, yes he had saved the world hundreds of times. He knew how to handle himself. That didn't mean that he wasn’t infallible. And because he was your superior officer, because the moniker of Captain America demanded respect, there wasn't shit you could say to him. You wanted to punch him, wanted to scream at him, tell him he had been an idiot for running off alone, without a plan, leaving you alone with your teammates clueless as to what to do.

A goddamn idiot.

Not that he'd listen if you could yell at him. Steve wasn't much for following orders if it meant a compromise to his values and morals. Normally, that was what you admired about him, what you maybe even found attractive about him, if you were honest with yourself. You couldn't think about that at the moment. The only thing that came to your mind when thinking about Steve was giving him a good knee to the balls.

The access door to the rooftop opened and your ears perked up at the sound of it. You turned around, to see who it was. You couldn’t hide the huff from your mouth and the roll of your eyes as Steve came waltzing through. What could he possibly want with you? He knew that you wanted to be left alone when you came up to the roof.

“Someone better be dying, Rogers.”

You didn't bother turning around completely to look at him. Your stance was close guarded even before Steve came through the door; arms crossed, head down, scowl permanently etched to your face. Then, when he made an appearance, your whole body went rigid. He was the last person you wanted to see.

“No, no one’s dying. I just…” “Then you should know I want to be alone right now, Captain.” Your voice came out more harsh than you intended, the hurt and anger of your feelings oozing out into them. You couldn’t exactly say you were sorry for how you sounded, though.

“Okay, I’ll just leave then.” “That makes sense. You love just leaving, huh. You’re pretty good at it, Steven.” “Look, I just got chewed out for two hours by Fury. I don’t need it as well from someone who is supposed to be my friend.” “Your friend?” You spat. “Friends don’t compromise each other’s safety. Friends don’t leave each other hanging in the middle of a battle!”

He hung his head in that moment and sighed out, putting his hands on his hips. Clenching and un-clenching his jaw, he looked at you as if he was trying to figure out what to say. He looked conflicted and sad and tired. All the emotions and physical exhaustion of the day was catching up to him. Well, you weren’t going to be the one to feel sorry for him.

“While you’re trying to think of a comeback, Rogers, I’ll be downstairs. The air is getting too chilly up here anyway.”

As you tried to walk past him, he grabbed your arm opposite of him, blocking you from the door. His eyes were a mix of energies: anxiousness at the forefront, You had never seen him so vulnerable.

“Hydra was there for me. To kill me.” “Hydra… but the briefing didn’t say anything about Hydra agents.” You looked up at him, confused. “I spotted them as you and the team were taking down the enemy we actually came for. They were sleeper agents; highly skilled assassins. If I would have stayed there, they would have killed you all just to get to me. I had to draw them away.” “I can take care of myself, Rogers. You should have let us help you.” “I couldn’t… I couldn’t let anything... “ His voice trailed off and he swallowed thickly as you looked up at him. Was he trying to hold back tears? “Steve…”

Your hand absentmindedly reached out and cupped his cheek. Your body seemed to forget all together that you were still mad at him. You couldn’t contain yourself though. No matter how pissed you were at Steve, you knew when he needed you and you couldn’t deny him that. He looked at you then, a single tear falling from his eyes, more threatening to find his way down. There was something else there too, something that you couldn’t quite figure out until it happened. Steve’s mouth was on yours, needy and wanting, and also tender and honest. He pulled your body into his with one hand and put the other behind your head, keeping you close to him.

“I couldn’t let them have you, you’re mine.” Steve rasped against your lips as he parted away. Your breath was shallow and ragged, as if he had kissed all the air out of you. Leaning up, you kissed him again, this time more sure in your actions, letting him know you wanted this just as much as he did. Steve swiped his tongue along the bottom of your mouth, asking for access and you granted it to him, both of you exploring each other's mouths. Hands were wandering; your hands were tangled in his hair and his hands were moving closer to your ass. God you loved how he towered over you as he kissed you. How his broad shoulders seemed to swallow your frame in his embrace. You wanted more, you needed more.

“Take me to your room.” You breathed out a whisper, breaking the kiss again.

Your hands were clinging onto his shirt, pulling him closer, closer, closer to you. You had a desperation to feel him, all of him and if you stayed on that roof any longer, you were going to make that happen in front of all of nature and anyone who decided to also come up on the roof.

Steve just nodded and grabbed your hand, leading you towards the door. The sexual tension was palpable as you rode the elevator down to his floor and walked towards his room. There was this electricity between the two of you where before there was none. Steve and you had been friends before but he was your superior and while there weren't any rules about dating, he had a moral obligation to distance himself romantically from you. You accepted his decision and kept your distance as well, even if you did have a crush on him. Everything now, after you had both thought you lost each other, after all the intense emotions of the day, after the roof, his moral obligations didn't seem to bother him any longer as he was taking you to his room.

Once there and the door had clicked shut, he was on you. His mouth slotted against yours, passionate kisses causing shivers to go throughout your whole body. You moaned in response, your hands sliding up his chiseled chest, making their way around his neck. His hands rested onto your hips, squeezing them and rocking them towards him slightly.

"Been wanting this for so long." He purred as he stroked your back lightly with his fingertips. "You're so beautiful." "Oh god, me too." You breathed, heat flooding your belly.

You stood like that for a bit, arms and lips searching each other in the living room, taking each other in. He was so beautiful it sometimes made you ache just to look at him. Now, with his intense blue eyes looking at you, lust blown, you could see the want in his eyes as well. Hands a bit shaky, you took them and guided them down to the buttons on Steve’s oxford shirt, unbuttoning each one. You could feel his hot breath onto your skin as his hands nimbly pulled at your tank top and pulled it up, grazing your skin with his knuckles as he did so. Once his buttons were free, you lifted your arms to help Steve rid you of your shirt. Gingerly, as if you were going to break at the action, he cupped your breasts with one of his palms and lightly thumbed over your stiff nipples.

“God, you're amazing.” He breathed as he captured your mouth again, still keeping a steady rhythm with his hands but you could feel him holding back. "More, Steve, please." You mewled into his mouth, scratching the back of his neck. "Don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart." He panted in between kisses. "'M enhanced, I can... take it." You urged out your words as Steve caught a soft spot on your neck. "Don't wanna chance it." "I’ll take you against that fucking wall if I have to, Rogers." You frowned playfully and wickedly at him as you pulled away from his assault on your neck, with great effort.

A growl ripped from inside him, something coming loose from your words. He picked you up with ease by your ass and started carrying you to where you assumed was his bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his slim torso, body on fire with his touch. His steps were heavy down the hall, making your core bump against him, and it made you even more hot for this man. This Adonis of a man was about to absolutely ruin you and you couldn't be more happy.

Steve laid you down on the bed and wordlessly started to undress the bottom half of you. He pulled off your leggings and panties in one swift moment, causing you to gasp slightly at the action. You felt the air rush to your legs and between as well, signalling how wet you were. Steve groaned at the sight of you before him, glistening and ready. You sat up to lean on your elbows, biting your lower lip slightly, wanting to see all of Steve as he started to undress as well. The clink of his belt was like a song to your ears and you could already see his bulge straining painfully against his slacks. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as he pulled down his pants and boxers, his erection springing free and bobbing below his belly button. A small, involuntary moan slipped past your lips as he leaned onto the bed, making his way toward you. You felt the dip of the mattress around your body as he hovered over you, his blonde locks coming loose around his face. You could feel the heat coming off of his body as his arms caged you in under him.

Redistributing his weight, he leaned over heavily onto his right arm and took his other hand and ran it down your side. It felt delicious, him feeling all of your curves and you practically purred at the sensation as shivers flooded your body. He got to your lower thigh and hooked his strong arm around it, pulling it over his hip. The heel of your foot dug into his perfect ass as you braced yourself for him; you didn't know how much longer you could wait.

“Steve, ple---” Before you could get another word out, Steve pushed the tip of him into you, causing you to let out a moan. “What was that, sweetheart?” He smiled cheekily at you. “Just shut up and start moving.” “Yes, ma’am.” He grinned.

He was gentle at first, letting you get used to his size. Then, once he knew you were ready, he started in on a brutal pace, snapping his hips into you with precision, taking you closer and closer to the edge. You spurred him on as well, demanding for Steve to go harder, faster, to let go. At one point, you were having to put your hands on the headboard above you to keep your head from slamming onto the wooden frame. Even though he was slamming into you at an amazing pace, you a moaning mess under him, he still gingerly swept your hair away from your sweat soaked face and kissed you, checking the look in your eyes to make sure you were doing okay. You would almost be endeared with it if you weren’t so fucked out.

You could feel yourself starting to come undone, the pressure in your belly mounting like a roller coaster climbing up its first hill. Once you were over the hill, you yelled out in pleasure, your hands gripping tightly onto the rails of the headboard as you rode through your orgasm. You could tell Steve was close as well as his pace became erratic and his breathing was becoming labored. You took your hands off of the headboard and clawed at his back, staring him in the eyes causing him to moan out.

“Come for me, Steve. You feel so good, baby.” You caught his shoulder in your mouth and bit down.

He let go, letting out gasps of breath and shouting out, filling you up completely. It caused you to have another mini orgasm from the feeling of his. Sticky with sweat, and completely sated, Steve landed on the bed and rolled over to his side, taking the sheets and covering both of you with them. You rolled over to meet him, hugging his body to you as you laid your head on his chest.

“Don't ever sacrifice yourself again.” You said so quietly that you thought he didn’t hear you. “Can't promise that, doll.” Steve replied as he lazily stroked your shoulder. “I know. Can’t blame a girl for trying though.”

As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that he couldn’t. He would always be the man to make the sacrifice play, to be the one to lay down on the wire for his team. You know that you couldn’t, and wouldn’t change him, but there with your head on his shoulder, you took some comfort to know that he was there for now.

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TAGS:

@t-stark35

@angrythingstarlight

@cheeseburgersstuff

@chrissquares

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers smut #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #beardburnsupersoldiers

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alj4890 · 3 years

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Delicate

(Ethan Ramsey x Olivia Nevarkis) (Olivia Nevarkis x Drake Walker) in a Choices The Royal Romance/Open Heart Crackship Series

A/N Picking up directly after Drake's visit and fallout. This will lead into the Christmas season, with Ethan inviting Olivia to spend the holidays with him and his father.

@jooous @krsnlove @nomadics-stuff @twinkleallnight @motorcitymademadame

Masterlist

Part 5

Ethan knew something was wrong. Even without his highly attuned ability to detect the slightest tics and movements people made when dealing with pain, he still would have known that Olivia was upset.

What bothered him was that she felt the need to keep it hidden.

He thought they were well past the stage of not being completely honest. It had been one of the most difficult yet rewarding part of their ever developing relationship. It was terrifying and freeing to be able to tell her anything.

Ethan knew he needed her. He had made it a point to never allow himself to need anyone. He once believed that it was a weakness, something that any sane person should be able to do without. One should be able to stand and face whatever life threw at them without having someone there to help you through it.

Or so he thought until Naveen nearly died.

Then seeing Bryce's reaction when Casey was poisoned.

Those two situations had opened his eyes and made him come to some uncomfortable conclusions about himself.

He was human. And what did all humans share? The ability and need to love...to have someone all their own to be there during life's brightest and darkest moments.

As he finished prepping the turkey breast for tomorrow's dinner, his eyes drifted over to the one he believed was his someone.

He hoped that he had become Olivia's.

"How was your day?"

Olivia shrugged. "Fine for the most part."

Ethan washed his hands then reached for a bottle of wine. Setting two glasses out, he filled them while studying her.

Olivia muttered her thanks when he handed hers to her. She absentmindedly swirled her wine while a slight frown formed.

Ethan reached out and caressed her cheek. When her eyes met his, he allowed her to see his concern.

"Drake came to my apartment earlier." She blurted out.

"He did?" Ethan gestured for them to move into his living room. After settling comfortably on his sofa, he patiently waited for her to continue.

"Yes." She bit out. "He supposedly came on his way to his family's ranch to show me pictures of the progress on the hospital. Her frown eased at that memory. "I can't wait until you see it. It is turning out just like we hoped."

A hint of a smile formed on his lips over this shared dream of theirs coming about. "I can't wait either."

Hearing Ethan say that caused the gnawing worry to grow even more. Was it the beginning of the end for them? Drake's parting words kept repeating over and over her mind. Somehow they seemed more prophetic than insulting the longer she dwelled on them.

"You really think this Ramsey is what you need?" Drake taunted. "One day you'll leave here and he will see the real you in Cordonia. This Boston bubble you're living under is going to pop. What will he do when he sees you as a duchess, mingling amongst the court?"

"You think he'll adore you then? Just wait until he hears all the tales of your years of temper tantrums and cruelty."

"Liv?" Ethan pulled her into his arms. "What happened?"

She didn't want to tell him. She hated this fear Drake had caused in the one area she had come to love. The simple happiness she had found in Boston was now tainted with doubt. He had made her once again hate herself.

Was her act of redemption going to never end? Was she to pay for every word and action she had done for the rest of her life?

Does nothing I do matter?

She closed her eyes tight when Ethan brushed a tender kiss to her furrowed forehead.

I don't deserve someone like him.

His hand rubbed her back in soothing circles while he waited.

Olivia felt tears prick her eyes. He was the only person she had ever known to give her physical comfort. The way he held her as if she was precious to him without trying to turn it into something sexual made her want cry.

She couldn't lose this. Lose him.

But she also couldn't deceive him.

"Ethan," her voice trembled making her hate herself even more for needing him, "You know about my past with Drake."

She felt him tense yet he continued to try and soothe her.

"I do."

She looked up at him and saw his own face etched in worry.

"He...we got into an argument about that and..." It was too hard. She couldn't stand the thought of destroying the way Ethan looked at her. The way he cared for her...

"Olivia," he tried not to let his fear take over of losing her to her former lover, "are you trying to tell me that you..." He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't stand the thought of going back to how his life was before she became a central part of it.

His mind stuttered at that. Medicine had once been his central part. Everything in his adult life had revolved around it. And while it still was a big part of who he was, Olivia had somehow created a niche all her own in that center. Somewhat entwined in it, yet on a personal level, he found that every decision he had made from the moment they met were made about her. From choosing a restaurant she might like to moving to her country to work at her proposed hospital, she had become his life.

Had Drake unknowingly destroyed his life in one brief visit?

"That I what?" She asked.

His blue eyes held her green. "That you want to get back together with Drake?"

Her eyes widened. "Good Lord, no." Her nose wrinkled. "That is the last thing I want."

She felt his arms relax as they cuddled her closer. His forehead dropped against hers as he dealt with the heady relief that her admittance brought.

Realizing he had been scared she was ending things caused a need to reassure him. Her lips met his in a tender kiss. She could feel the deep longing he had for her in his response. He still held her gently as their kiss came to an end.

"What did he say?" Ethan asked.

"He was angry that I don't see the need to keep discussing why our barely a relationship had to end." She bit her lip. "Then he brought up you."

Ethan arched an eyebrow. He had not been around the man enough to form an unbiased opinion. He knew the flare of jealousy was from what he assumed was going to be an attack on his own character in the hopes of stealing Olivia from him.

"What about me?" He didn't bother to hide the annoyance tempering his tone.

"How you'll be when you see me in Cordonia." Olivia averted her eyes. "And how what we have here will be completely destroyed."

His eyes narrowed at such a choice of words. "Why would it be destroyed?"

"Ethan, you," she lowered her head into her hands for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she forced the words out. "You know some of my past already. You've witnessed my temper. But I...I used to be cruel. I've changed these last few years, and it has helped heal relationships I have with some members of the court." She looked up at him to see how he was reacting. "But Drake believes once you hear their stories and see me as the prideful duchess that you will not want to be with me."

"First off," Ethan snapped, "he doesn't know a damn thing about me or how I feel about you. From what I know of you, you deserve to walk into every ballroom with your head held high." He snorted in irritation. "They should be begging for your attention."

Olivia briefly smiled at that. Only he could turn one of her faults into a compliment.

"Secondly, I haven't been known to be the kindest doctor to work with."

"Your patients would disagree."

He huffed. "That's because I work to help them." He pulled her closer within his arms. "Jerk might be the nicest word interns and other medical staff have referred to me." Ethan pressed another kiss to the top of her head. "And my quick temper might give yours a run for its money ." He grinned when he heard her muffled laugh. "And I've never been known for being a forgiving man."

She wrapped her arms around him as she settled her head in the crook of his neck and shoulder. "If anyone tells you about me, then--"

"I know who you are, Olivia." Ethan stressed. "I will never hold your past up as a standard to measure your actions by."

Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"Don't thank me." He grumbled. "And don't believe what Drake said." He grimaced as a thought struck. "Though I can imagine why he acted like he did."

She swiped at her stray tears. "You can?"

He nodded before resting his cheek against her head. "Who knows how I would react if this was reversed? I might have lashed out at you in frustration if you refused to give me a second chance."

She lifted her head to see his face.

He met her gaze and softly smiled again. "Especially since I am in love with you."

"You--" her lips parted in surprise, "You are in love with me?

"I am."

Olivia knew in that moment what was truly in her heart. All the questions she had asked herself that morning finally had an answer. And all because Ethan had done the one thing that no man had ever done before.

He did not judge her for her past, her name, anything. He accepted her, faults and all, and loved her for every single part.

"I love you too." She smiled against his lips. "I have never loved anyone like I do you."

Their kiss held a new edge to the usual passion. Having expressed their feelings, the need to show just how much they loved one another took over.

While clothes were beginning to be hastily tossed around the living room, Olivia's phone vibrated softly in her purse.

***************

Hearing the beep, Drake cleared his throat. "I know I am probably the last person you want to talk to but I need to say I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of what I said. I wish..."

He took a deep breath. "I wish you would give me a second chance to show you that I do care the way you wanted me to. I know you're with Ramsey now, but I want to try what you asked me all those months ago. I want to be with you, out in the open."

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling of his hotel room in Kentucky. "I won't keep bothering you. I'll give you time to think it over and wait until the New Year's Eve Ball to hear your answer." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Hana said you told her you'd be back by then. I hope I didn't...didn't ruin what chance I could have."

Pausing once more, he dropped his head in his hand.

"Take care, Libby." He said softly before ending the call.

******************

That night, Oliva felt once more at peace. In the darkness of Ethan's bedroom, she smiled at how he was spooned around her. His slow deep breaths of sleep lulled her even more into the addictive security his presence gave her.

She kept replaying his words of love in her mind. In many ways it surprised her, and yet deep down she thought she must have already known. Every action, every kind word, every kiss had revealed that he had given her his heart. And she in turn had given him hers without even realizing it.

As hard as it was to find some type of silver lining to Drake's hurtful words, she supposed she should be grateful for them. Her sharing it had possibly prompted Ethan to tell her how he felt about her.

She yawned while snuggling back against her doctor. His arms pulled her even closer as he slept.

She felt both exhausted and wired. The day had been filled with one extreme emotion after another. And yet, the words both men had said kept her awake.

Olivia didn't know if she had it in her to forgive Drake. To have someone that you actually trust bring up the worst pieces of yourself as a threat to ruin the one good thing you have...how could he do that to her? She had been hurt when he didn't return her feelings, but this fight today had damaged them to the point that she wasn't sure if she even wanted him as a friend.

I would never say something like that to him if he managed to find happiness with someone else, she thought to herself.

Ethan had been much more understanding of Drake's actions than she could ever be.

She knew it wasn't necessarily a good thing that she never gave people second chances. Why would she after all the betrayals she had suffered in life? She barely needed both hands to count the number of people she had over the years that had never betrayed her.

Had Drake entered into the category she kept for her parents, Lucretia, Constantine, and numerous nobles at court?"

I don't know, she thought. I don't know how I feel over what he did.

She thought about his voicemail. It didn't matter how sincere Drake sounded or that he now wanted to try. His apology seemed hollow. Perhaps it was because he truly didn't know her now. These months in Boston had changed her, possibly even more than she realized.

She wasn't the same proud duchess that had once sworn vengeance to anyone who opposed her. She had learned the difficult art of give and take. She made herself listen and think through everything before losing her temper or forming a hard decision. It had been an ongoing battle, but she felt that she had a somewhat better control than she once had. Today's fight with Drake had proved that she wasn't the same quick tempered, plan to skewer a person on the edge of her dagger she had once been. She had stepped out of her comfort zone and lived for the most part as a normal person, proving to herself that she truly could survive on her own in any situation.

This venture had shown her that she was more than what her ancestors had stressed a Nevarkis should be. The people in Cordonia would most likely still see her as her old self, but she knew and it seemed that Ethan did also who she truly was. Her strength, her refusal to back down from a fight, her very heart had been used for good.

Drake didn't see it. He never saw the potential she had to do something meaningful and right. Maybe it was because she hadn't allowed him to do so. Maybe they really never had a chance to see the best in one another.

Could we have found a way to happiness if we had not spent years torturing each other with our spiteful words?

Deciding that that was a thought that would probably never be answered, she closed her eyes and eventually drifted off to sleep.

********************

Weeks went by too quickly for some and not nearly fast enough for others. Edenbrook had closed its doors leaving many with bittersweet emotions. Ethan, Naveen, and Olivia had spent what free time they had packing and shipping their personal belongings to Cordonia. Decisions were made for the two doctors to stay with her in Lythikos while they searched for homes of their own.

While rushing about, Amanda and Thomas came to help a week before Christmas.

On their second night together, the ladies sent Ethan and Thomas to get dinner, giving them a moment to talk alone.

"Did you come for me or for the snow?" Olivia teased when Amanda insisted the two of them take a break from packing and go for a walk.

"Since you have always had the best snow," Amanda replied with a twinkle of mischief, "I always come for you."

She laughed when Olivia snorted.

"Are you excited?" She prodded as their boots crunched in the snow.

"About finally seeing the new hospital?" Olivia linked her arm through Amanda's when they entered a nearby park. "Of course."

"I am too." Amanda took a deep breath and cut her eyes toward her friend. "And I am very excited to see you and a certain doctor together at the New Year Eve's ball."

Olivia didn't bother to mask how happy she was. "I have something to tell you."

"Oh?"

"Ethan, he...on Thanksgiving, he admitted he is in love with me."

"About time." Amanda grumbled playfully. "Each time I visit, I see just how much he does love you."

Olivia stopped their progress through a path of lighted trees. "You knew all this time? Why didn't you tell me?"

Amanda's laughter at the death glint in Olivia's eyes echoed across the park. "Because you would have dismissed it like you always have whenever I brought up heartfelt emotions."

She placed a hand on her hip and somehow did a convincing impression of Olivia. "Please. No man can truly capture a Nevarkis heart, much less make me willing to be his," Amanda managed to twist her lips in disgust like Olivia's as she flicked her hand in a very recognizable gesture, "love slave."

Olivia rolled her eyes while struggling with her laughter. "I don't sound like that."

"Not now that you're in looovvve." Amanda responded playfully.

"Why do I share things with you?" Olivia muttered.

"Because you love me." Amanda wrapped her arm around her. "Not as much as you love Ethan, but I can live with that."

Olivia snorted again as she tried to brush it off. As hard as she tried, a soft smile formed on her lips. "You're right."

"I am happy you both know how you feel about one another." Amanda's teasing turned serious. "It would have driven you crazy with trying to guess."

"I suppose it would have irritated me." Olivia admitted.

“I know it would have driven me insane watching you both tiptoe around the issue.” Amanda grumbled.

“It surprised me.” Olivia admitted.

“It did? Why?”

“I--I suppose I didn’t expect it to happen.” She felt embarrassed just saying it. “I don’t think I ever thought I would meet someone to feel like that... I never thought of any of it happening to me.”

Amanda's heart ached at realizing just how damaged Olivia still was over her parents. Nothing hurt her more than seeing her friend still believe that she was unworthy of love. To be this surprised over a man falling in love with her proved how much she doubted herself. Perhaps it was why Olivia continuously pushed herself to serve Cordonia in any way possible. It might be why she never backed away from danger.

Compliments and recognition had been the closest she had to receiving love in her life

Amanda felt herself adoring Ethan even more for showing Olivia that she herself was loveable. She wasn't the prickly cactus that she had given Liam at his coronation. She had a tender heart, one that any person would be lucky to earn.

"I love him." Olivia broke into Amanda's musings. "It's different from what I once felt for Liam."

Amanda squeezed her in a side hug. "One sided love usually is different. Having someone give their heart to you and work in the hopes of you giving them theirs, I can't think of a greater gift than that."

Olivia nodded. "Ethan does that. I thought that maybe after we admitted our feelings that he would slack off trying to," her brow furrowed at trying to find the words.

"Sweep you off your feet?"

"Yes." Olivia's nose wrinkled out of habit over something so sappy. "He now seems to work even harder to not only keep my love but to make me love him even more."

"Good." Amanda linked her arm through hers again. "He better or he will have me to deal with."

Olivia burst into laughter. "And what will you do if he doesn't?"

Amanda's smile grew. "Don't worry. I've been trained by the best on how to torture a man." She winked at her friend. "You always did give the most interesting lessons."

*****************

Christmas was approaching and with it, Ethan invited Olivia to drive to Providence to spend Christmas with him and his father.

She was both excited and extremely nervous to meet his one family member he had a relationship with.

She was completely out of her depth in this situation. She had never had a man invite her to, "meet the parents,". She knew though how big this was for Ethan to include her in his family's Christmas tradition.

He seemed so happy, so proud, to introduce her to his father.

The drive over had been filled with his sharing some of his childhood memories. Her hand had remained in his as she watched the play of emotions on his face. He was opening up to her again, showing how much he trusted her with these bits of himself.

The modest, in need of a new coat of paint home had surprised her. She didn't know why she expected Ethan to have had a childhood a tad more luxurious than this. He seemed so cultured at times, that it impressed her even more that he had learned all of it on his own.

Ethan's father, Alan, had come outside to welcome her while helping with their luggage.

The genuine delight in the elder's face at meeting the woman his son had brought home made her feel slightly giddy. He teased Ethan with saying he had not done nearly enough in describing how pretty she was.

"I did." Ethan teased back. "You just didn't pay attention."

The three shared a meal with Olivia watching in fascination at their closeness. So many of her friends either had parents dead or were not close to them at all. This was something entirely new.

Alan had charmed her into sharing a little about herself. His understanding smile and deep laugh had made her relax. After dinner he pulled her away from the table while ordering Ethan to do the dishes.

"You're taking her to the mantle aren't you?" Ethan grumbled while fighting a smile.

"Don't worry what we're doing." Alan reciprocated. "Just make sure to soak that pan before putting it in the dishwasher."

Olivia allowed herself to be ushered into the small den. A Christmas tree stood with slightly old ornaments next to a warm crackling fire. Her gaze lifted to the different sized picture frames on the mantle.

Picking up one that seemed to be the oldest, Alan handed it to her. "This was a few weeks after Ethan was born."

Olivia's lips curved at seeing what looked like any other baby. She studied each picture he handed her, giving her glimpses into Ethan's life. Her smile grew at a photo of a ten year old Ethan smiling while puppies crawled all over him.

She then noticed the woman in the background.

"That's his mom." Alan's joy seemed to dim some. "She had been the one to decide we go to a nearby farm to let Ethan choose a puppy for his birthday."

Olivia studied the image of the woman who had so easily left her husband and son.

How could she do that to him?

The sound of Ethan returning caused Alan to quickly switch the picture for another one.

"Here he is with his first car."

"Dad." Ethan grumbled good naturedly. "I'm sure Olivia doesn't want to go down through every mundane event in my life."

"I do." Olivia blurted out. Heat flooded her cheeks. "I like seeing your childhood."

Alan beamed at her. "Here's one of my favorites. He was around five years old and had opened a clinic for stuffed animals."

"Did he?" Olivia cocked an eyebrow at Ethan.

"I'll have you know that I save many from losing their limbs." Ethan smiled at her laughter. "I had to since most of the injuries my toys suffered were from my rigorous playing."

The three sat down and began to talk about Ethan moving to Cordonia.

"You will have to visit." Olivia insisted. "You will always be welcome in Lythikos."

"I plan to." Alan stood and stretched. "I think I'll leave you two to get some sleep." He patted Ethan's shoulder then squeezed Olivia's hand. "I'm so happy you're both here."

Ethan settled his arm again around Olivia once they were left alone in companionship silence.

"Your father is very kind."

He chuckled. "Yes, I know. Nothing like me."

She smirked at him. "Don't sell yourself short. You have your moments."

"I do, huh?"

"I think so." She snuggled closer within his arms.

Smiling to himself, Ethan reached into his pocket.

"Olivia?"

"Hmm?"

He held a box out to her.

She sat up with a start when her eyes fell upon the little velvet box.

"I think you know what I'm about to ask." Ethan said softly as he opened it for her.

Carefully lifting the diamond ring that sparkled in the firelight, he paused right at the tip of her finger.

"You know how much I love you." His vulnerability was once more on display. "You make my life better than I thought possible. I need you, your passion, your heart." He glanced down at her hand trembling in his grasp. “I can’t imagine a life without you by my side.”

His bright blue eyes lifted once more to her green ones shimmering with unshed tears.

"Olivia, will you marry me?"

#olivia nevarkis #dr. ethan ramsey #the royal romance #open heart #choices the royal romance #choices open heart #trr crossover #oh crossover #drake walker #ethan ramsey x olivia nevarkis #drake walker x olivia nevrakis #trr drake #trr olivia #oh ethan ramsey #play choices fanfic #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic writers creations #choices fic writers creations

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aphrodites-law · 4 years

Text

A Bit of Clarity 🍂 (11/?) The visions had started last autumn, a year ago now. It had caused a bit of chaos for some, a bit of clarity for others. Two days ago, Clarke Griffin had been perfectly fine managing both her Café and her stress. But now she was curious - so deeply curious about the vision of herself entwined with the aloof Lexa Woods that it was leading her to complete distraction. (ao3)

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10]

Like every autumn in Costial, rain showers overstayed their welcome. Street gutters overflowed and children laughed as they jumped in the growing puddles. With the rain came the storms and lightning; loud cracks of thunder that streaked the moody sky.

Born and raised in California, Lexa couldn’t remember a time her bones had felt this cold. Couldn’t remember it because it had never happened. And she loved Costial - loved every nook and cranny - but she did not love the cold. The umbrella Clarke had lent her had bent in the mocking wind, her scarves were perpetually waterlogged, and her collars drooped sadly. If not currently living through it, Lexa would not believe this capricious weather if she heard about it on the news. It was ridiculous. Borderline maddening.

And yet.

Lexa had never loved a season more.

“Do you know that Wells could walk in any second?”

Lexa nodded against neck and shoulder, her mouth too busy charting a path toward Clarke’s jaw. She had somehow convinced Clarke to show her the cramped room at the back of the café; a perfectly innocent request that, once the door had shut, had ended up with Clarke perched on the desk with Lexa standing between her thighs. And what a fine place to be. Even if Clarke was oddly stiff against her.

“I can go…” Lexa offered, but Clarke dug her fingers in her back and shook her head.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Lexa smiled, her fingers wandering beneath the hem of Clarke’s sweater.

“Ah! Cold.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa said as she pulled away.

Clarke grabbed her hands. “No, no, it was good.”

Lexa couldn’t help but sigh in frustration. “This is ridiculous.”

“Feeling me up is ridiculous?”

“No!” Lexa replied, eyes widening. “But my feet are still squeaking in my shoes, my fingers are icicles, and I know you think my lips are freezing because you flinch when I kiss you.”

“I do not flinch,” Clarke denied as she hooked her arms around Lexa’s neck. “I like your kisses. I like them so much I dragged you in here. I just didn’t realize I was dating a refrigerator.”

Lexa did not look amused. “Is it my fault this city turned into the North Pole overnight?”

Clarke grinned. “Oh baby, wait until we get to winter.”

Lexa softened at both the pet name and the implication there would still be a ‘we’ in winter. She’d hoped for it, of course, but they were still taking each day as it came and had yet to define what 'we’ even meant. There was no rush, however. They both knew where the other stood.

“You never called me that before.”

“Well, there was a counter and a tip jar between us before.”

Of course there had been much more than that between them. It was hard to believe Lexa now stood flush against Clarke with their mouths kiss-stained and their hands so eager to touch - even if the cold didn’t help matters. Lexa was still working on her in-depth report on the visions, but in recent nights Clarke had lied awake wondering about the meaning behind them too.

Clearly she had been nudged toward Lexa, and it had certainly precipitated things between them, but would she never have entertained the thought without it? Would she really still be wrapped up in her tepid routine if she hadn’t heard Lexa whispering her name while kissing a path down her body? A part of her wanted to believe she would have had the impulse to speak to Lexa regardless of the vision. Maybe it would’ve made things easier between them; and maybe it would’ve made them harder.

“I should probably go thaw somewhere,” Lexa said with a sigh.

Clarke shook her head. “You need a source of warmth. Why don’t you just have at it?”

Lexa laughed, her eyes crinkling with joy.

“I’m very serious,“ Clarke said.

“I know. It’s why I’m so happy.”

Clarke sat back, casually leaning against the wall the desk was pushed against. “Good. I intend to keep it that way.”

Lexa bit her lip. “Can I pick you up at closing time tomorrow?”

“I wasn’t aware we had plans.”

“I thought it could be a surprise. And I know I promised something upscale on our third date, but I think you’ll really like this place.”

“Third date, huh? I was supposed to assess if you have game by now.”

“And?” Lexa asked.

Clarke was quiet, enjoying watching Lexa stew for just a beat. They were both getting to be experts at this slow, simmering pace.

“You really like me, hm?”

Lexa arched a brow, her hands still dangerously high on Clarke’s thighs. “I’ve never stood in wet socks for anyone else before.”

Clarke laughed. “A yes would suffice, but-“ she sat closer again “-now I’m intrigued. Does this date involve not walking? Because my feet generally do kill me after work.”

Lexa brushed back the strand of hair that had fallen from Clarke’s messy top bun. “That’s fine, I’ll find a pumpkin to turn into a carriage for you.”

“Oh good, there’s still plenty of those at the patch.”

“So it’s a yes?”

Clarke draped her arms over Lexa’s shoulders. “It’s a maybe you can persuade me,” she said, tempting Lexa to make a move with a quick swipe of her tongue against her plump, bottom lip.

Lexa did not disappoint, her hand coming up to cup her cheek before she kissed her. Clarke was keenly aware that each one of Lexa’s kisses lasted longer than the last. Her journalist was hungry for affection, but she was eager to give it too, especially when she was encouraged. Clarke had come to the conclusion after Lexa had spent her time on her neck, adorning it with languid kisses while Clarke had lost herself to the sensation of her mouth against her skin. Yes, Clarke was particularly weak when it came to her neck - not that Lexa had needed the verbal confirmation - and there was more than one tender spot that made her whole body jolt with pleasure. Something about baring herself and being vulnerable. The point being: Lexa was a generous partner.

When she kissed, Lexa was so purposeful that Clarke felt like she was an instrument Lexa had practiced for a decade. She dipped her tongue inside Clarke’s mouth and changed the angle smoothly, leading their little dance with a smile Clarke felt against her own. Hands moved amorously up and down Clarke’s thighs; up and down Lexa’s waist and ass.

Clarke hadn’t been kidding when she’d said Lexa made her feel like a teenager. She hadn’t felt this bubbling giddiness in years, not since first everythings in high school at least, but she was glad for her years of experience when it came to keeping up with Lexa. She would’ve never understood the girl in her arms years ago. She did now - vision or no vision - and it gave her a thrill.

Sometimes Clarke wondered if Lexa was determined to compete with herself. To be better than what Clarke had seen - almost like she was jealous of the woman she’d become. And if she was like this when merely kissing, Clarke had already fantasized that she would be like this in bed, too. Clarke so far had kept the details of her vision to herself, but not out of coyness. How could she explain that she would choose kissing Lexa fully clothed in a cramped space over a thousand more visions? That it was actually feeling Lexa against her; their honesty and vulnerability that had fulfilled the ache she’d felt for years? It was too soon for words like that.

But she could show her. With her entire body tingling, Clarke could do nothing but chase that high. She deepened the kiss, this time the one pushing rather than pulling, the one brushing her nose over Lexa’s. Suddenly it felt like heat had risen in the room and her clothes felt too heavy. She couldn’t remember ever kissing like this before - like she could do it for hours and not tire. But something quickly changed when - unconsciously, she’d swear it later - she spread her thighs wider to wrap herself around Lexa. With her hands on her ass, she pulled Lexa closer, tighter, and when her breasts pressed firmly against Lexa’s, it was the start of something else entirely.

They stayed entwined like this for far longer than was safe in the back of the café. The door didn’t even lock, yet all Clarke could think was pulling Lexa until she was flush atop her on the damn desk. It was Lexa who moaned in her mouth, a sound so deep and sensual it had Clarke’s heart pound in her ears. But Clarke wasn’t prepared for Lexa suddenly grinding against her in a moment of desperation, and if they’d been naked she knew very well Lexa would be inside her by now.

At the mere thought, the jolt of lust through Clarke’s body was so strong she pushed Lexa away. Lexa, slightly dizzy from their kiss, staggered back.

“Um…”

“Oh my God, I’m sorry!” Clarke exclaimed with wide eyes as she sat up. “I - I don’t know why I did that.”

Lexa licked her bottom lip and looked at Clarke, taking in the way she breathed and how she tried to very unsubtly rub her thighs together. She swallowed thickly.

“Are you sure you don’t know?”

Clarke jumped off the desk. "That was- I should uh- get back to work,“ she said, avoiding her eyes.

Lexa stepped aside, waiting for Clarke to follow through. When Clarke finally looked at her, she closed the space between them with a smirk and guided her against the wall. Clarke drew in a sharp breath, her legs so weak she would have slid down if it weren’t for Lexa’s hand on her waist.

"You still didn’t say yes to our date…” Lexa pointed out.

Clarke cleared her throat. “Maybe you didn’t make a compelling enough argument.”

Lexa looked between them and smiled. “This is familiar.”

“The rooftop?” Clarke asked, glancing between Lexa’s eyes and her lips. She could barely think, let alone follow Lexa’s train of thought. God, how was she supposed to go back to work like this?

“The hotel,” Lexa replied before kissing her jaw and then her neck again. “Only, I couldn’t do this back then. Couldn’t have you like this.”

Clarke closed her eyes, each word pushing her dangerously close to begging for release. She knew she was wet; knew today would be more difficult than the other days. It was almost unfair, but a part of her liked the challenge. There was a thrill to it; to testing their willpower.

“I wanted to kiss you,” Lexa admitted, just as affected by their previous kiss. She was breathing hard too; her kisses more like nuzzling now. “I always want to kiss you.”

“We were both drunk. It would’ve been a mess.”

“What if you’d said yes?” Lexa whispered. “What if you’d come with me to the theater that night?”

Here in their little bubble, it was so easy to imagine a different world. A world where Clarke hadn’t said yes to Niylah and a world where Lexa had never been hurt in the past.

“We would have laughed like we did.”

Lexa smiled. “Yes. Then I would’ve asked you to dance.”

“I would’ve watched you play poker and been wildly impressed.”

“Oh?”

Clarke tugged at Lexa’s belt loops to bring her closer. “What can I say? Cards in the right hands get me going. I would’ve asked if we could comp a room in this ridiculously overpriced hotel.”

“We’d get the view on the mountains.” Lexa sighed, as if this fantasy seemed so much further now. “I’d try to give you the best night of your life.”

It was nice to imagine it all, but Clarke realized she didn’t regret it. They’d gone on their own little path. She kissed Lexa sweetly, but not without intent. It was much softer than their last, both of them aware the real world awaited.

"I like this better. I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

Lexa looked at her like she hung the moon in the sky. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” And then, because Lexa was still waiting, Clarke smiled again: “Take me on a date, baby.”

[part twelve]

#clexa #clarke x lexa #f: a bit of clarity #w #we're getting there!

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cno-inbminor · 4 years

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ipsum exitio (PREVIEW)

a/n: i wanted to give you all little snippets from this long fic i’m working on -- currently sitting at ~21k and there’s still a decent amount to unfold and unravel. hope you all look forward to this! and a huge, ginormous thank you to @a-kaashi for helping beta this!!

estimated release: in ~2-3 weeks

plot: self-destruction is in the calm before the storm, in the eye of a hurricane. but when the forces are right, the winds are rapid enough, the catalysts send you hurling, you find yourself leaving a monstrous and disastrous path in your wake.

characters: ushijima wakatoshi, semi eita, iwaizumi hajime, and male oc w/fem!reader possessing vagina/uterus/uterine-system (other oc’s also included)

genre/warnings: (+18) slice of life, angst, descriptions and moments of high anxiety, explicit smut (w/slight degradation, size kink, spanking, etc.), virginity loss, mentions of alcohol, talks about virginity and sex toys, slow burn, pining, implied bisexual reader, (more might come up later)

A breeze flows in through the open window of your apartment, softly caressing your face as you lean against the sill on your elbows. You drink in the view of Tokyo at night like a fine wine sliding down your throat, attuning to all your senses. With tear ducts dry and dust caked along the rims of your eyes, they shut in defeat, the semblance of a white flag splayed on the back of your eyelids. Cars honk in the distance and your legs struggle to support your weight. The scent of sulfur from the earlier downpour teases at your nostrils, causing your nose to scrunch a bit as you openly take in the scenery before you again.

A nearby billboard flashes bright, mechanically cycling through advertisements and never resting. The LED lights paint a picture that you are all too acquainted with, even more so with the man in the frame. Your body is plunged into a lake of bitter nostalgia as your heart wrenches painfully. Instead of fighting against the resistance of the water and gravity, you succumb to the anchor dragging you down, knowing that eventually, the waves will recede, and you will return to shore again.

Inhale. Count. Exhale.

Breathe.

11 years ago

Perhaps you had become a burden to Wakatoshi. You had turned into the thorn in his side, something he no longer wanted to tolerate and keep in his life. Perhaps it was expected, you bitterly thought while shrugging off his jacket. The bite of the cold night teethed and gnawed at your skin, but the pain is almost welcomed now. He took the fabric without a word, only feeling slightly guilty at the sight of stray tears gradually streaking down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you sniffled, arms wrapped around yourself again for some vague sense of protection. “That’s fine, I get it. You have Nationals and the Youth team as well – it’s mainly best for you to end this.”

“(Y/n) –”

“It’s really okay, Wakatoshi. I appreciate you being straightforward with me. I’ll see you at practice,” you quickly interjected and turned to trek back towards the dorm, sending a quick but lifeless wave behind you. The shards of whatever was left of your soul trailed behind you like scattered stars on the concrete. Even when your roommate and friend brought your disheveled figure into her arms, they did little to ward off the parasitic spectres in your mind.

7 years ago

A bio was set, photos strategically ordered, and you were tossed into the world of online dating.

“This is a really bad idea,” you groaned ten minutes later as Sayuri swiped through the profiles showing up in your pool. “I haven’t even slept with anyone before.”

“Oh honey, I bet half of these men only ever got their dick wet once and came in two minutes flat. They think they’re impressing someone but they’re only fooling themselves,” Sayuri scoffed and then grimaced at a man’s daringly shirtless mirror selfie. “This poor guy needs to eat more; I can see his ribcage! You don’t need someone who doesn’t appreciate food.”

“What if he’s got an eating disorder?” You seriously speculated, heart going out to the possibility of that.

“Well now you make me feel bad after swiping left on him and – oh hey! You got a match!”

“What? Who the hell did you swipe right on?!” You screeched; chin craned to get a good look at the person on your phone.

4.5 years ago

With a duffel bag slung on his shoulder, phone in hand, dark skinny jeans, a casual pale blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up , his reflexes were quick enough to recognize the human bundle of joy sprinting towards him. Eita’s best memories of you were in your Shiratorizawa uniform, so seeing you in casual streetwear threw him for a loop at first.

The earnest beam on your face could warm the iciest of glaciers, and he easily lost against the facial muscles fighting to form into his own smile. As you deftly dodged the other people in your route to him, his arms seemed to naturally fall open in a gesture that welcomed your inevitable embrace. Eita was pretty sure you squealed before jumping onto him, but his focus had to redirect to his arms so they didn’t drop you.

“Semi Semi!” You happily cried out into his ear over the hustle and bustle, arms tight around his neck as he held you close. He gave you a brief, affectionate squeeze before setting you down, causing your arms to fall. But his hands held onto your shoulders, giving you a quick once-over and making his assessment. He always had a soft spot for you back in high school, knowing that it wasn’t easy managing a team of teenage boys who were ridiculously hungry and driven for a common goal. When news got around the team that you and Ushijima had broken up, he always kept an extra eye out for you and worried that you’d continue to work yourself to the bone in university.

...

Just one, he berated himself. Just one.

His nose ghosted over the skin from your jaw to your collarbone, catching the faint scent of what he assumed to be a mix of your body wash and natural scent. His senses found it comforting, grounding, and reminded him just how precious you were to him. You weren’t just a random girl at the bar he thought would be temporarily nice to make out with – you were (y/n), the girl who had watched over him and encouraged him during some of his most difficult times with a sport that was once his life, the manager who cared for him and his teammates to be nothing but their best, the person who the boys would unwittingly go to war for if anyone were to bring you trouble.

So he made that known, kissing the joint between your neck and shoulder, and reveled in the breathy gasp that escaped your throat. Little by little, he applied more pressure, preparing you for what he was about to do. His lips softly sucked on the skin, just enough so his teeth could graze it and nibble. Your hands were now fully entangled in the strands of his air, and as they tightened, Eita became more forceful and meaningful. You were entering a faint haze of ecstasy as he worked that one spot, determined to break the capillaries beneath your unmarked flesh and let the inevitable bruising bloom. He knew how beautiful you would look when he was done, and if he had your permission to, what a sight you would be with more littered on the rest of your body.

Present

“(Y/n), I know you’re in there,” a deep male’s voice permeates through the wood, though muffled and scratchy. “Please, let me talk to you. I’m sorry, I—” He pauses, a groan of frustration escaping his throat. Your vision refuses to refocus, bleary as you weakly take in your view of Tokyo again. Without a doubt, the man must be ruffling his hair frustratingly, distressed and discouraged.

“I shouldn’t have said that. Please let me in and apologize properly – I owe you that much.”

You owe me nothing, silly. It’s my fault.

Eyes the shade of the complement to a martini in the billboard observe you, and you wonder: if seen in person, would they have stared with pity?

It’s time to stop running away.

So with sluggish steps, you make your way to the only barrier barring you from your fate. The two deadbolts slide back and click in place, echoing louder than ever. Your hand trembles in its path to the doorknob, faintly grasping the chilling metal and turning it until the latch pulls back far enough to let the door open.

And there they were, the eyes that held the key to your undoing, that had watched you crumble and fall, that had looked after you in more ways than you could imagine, peering straight into yours. You know them well, perhaps too well, and your knees nearly buckle at their intensity. It takes every part of your being to stop yourself from slamming the door closed, to hide away and escape destiny.

Because it seems that irises in the shades of olive will be the banes of your existence.

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