#I know he’s doing a few shows here and there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

touchtheinvisiblestars · 3 days

Text

Imagine going through relationship issues with Spencer and a scare at works sets you both back on the right path

This had been the eighth night in a row you'd slept alone. Opting to sleep in the spare bedroom of the place you and Spencer had bought together. Waking up hurt and sad with your partner was an exhausting way to live, and it was getting to you. The team had been back at the main office for the same amount of time. Having a big bust up on the aftermath of a case meant the journey back on the jet was awkward for everyone involved.

When he hadn't agreed with the way you dealt with the unsub, on top of you both disagreeing on when to start trying for a family. Had left you feeling put down and attacked both in work and in your personal life. Feeling like you couldn't do anything right, and that you were holding him back.

It was made worse by his lack of enthusiasm when you attempted to make amends. Wanting to talk about the issue, but finding it difficult when your boyfriend was a stubborn lump. Shrugging his shoulders and seeming totally disinterested.

After the fourth day of you trying to get through to him. You gave in. Telling yourself that if he wanted to make amends he would. Or he'd realise once it was too late.

Today though, you had a meeting with Garcia, she was going to show you an easier way of accessing some files. The way she does it. Getting yourself up and ready. The house sounded eerily quiet. Spencer did have a habit of impersonating the invisible man when he was home. But still, it was cold and felt empty.

Making your way downstairs, you called out for him, but got no answer.

Realising he wasn't even home. You felt another pang in your chest. Maybe he was done? The thought made your eyes sting. But on checking the time, you would be late to meet Garcia. You grabbed your breakfast out the fridge and grabbed your bag and keys.

Once in the office, you passed the bullring to see Spencer at his desk. Nose deep in some files.

"Hey, what time did you come in? We could have come together." You asked, approaching his desk.

"Early. Didn't want to wake you."

Nodding, you still wanted to push for you both to make up, "did you want to grab lunch somewhere? Would be nice to spend some time with you."

"I'm busy."

"Well I didn't mean right now. Later. When you're free? I'm in Garcias office if you-"

"Y/N, you're here!" Garcia squeaked, "for a moment I thought you were standing me up."

Realising he still wasn't ready to have a decent conversation with you. You gave up, again.

"Never." You smiled at her, before giving Spencer a sad look as he continued to read his papers.

You sat down in Garcias office and fully immersed yourself in the training. Pushing Spencer to the back of your mind.

Around lunchtime you saw Spencer walk past the room and you felt another wave of sadness wash over you.

"So, what's up with you and Sir Smarts-a-lot?" Garcia asked you while you were taking a break.

"There's not really much to tell. We fell out over some serious and not so serious things. I've tried to patch things up. He doesn't want to know. Been trying for like 4 days now."

"I'm sorry. He does seem particularly cranky since you came back from that last case."

"Yeah. Happened while we were out there. I don't even-"

You were interrupted by the sound of shouting from out in the main office. Both you and Garcia looked at each other and wondered who the hell fell out with each other so bad they had to have a screaming match.

Both getting up and wandering down the hall. You just about turned the corner first. But froze in your tracks seeing two people, one with a gun, the other with a briefcase. The woman, with the gun, had the few people that were in the bullring huddled together.

"Shit Garcia go back to your office and lock the door. Call Spence and tell him to stay away. Now!" You whisper shout at her.

"Hey! Put your hands on your head. Get in here Miss now." one of them shouted at you. Not having noticed Garcia as she backed away to her office.

When you didn't move. The seemingly unarmed intruder marched towards you and attempted to grab onto you. As you went to defend yourself. He pulled out a knife and threatened you with it.

"Think very carefully about what you do next." He said lowly.

"What do you guys want. I can help you."

"No you won't. You'll just try and talk me down and I won't let them down again. Get in here or I'm going to make you. And it will hurt."

"What's your name? I'm Y/N. Why are you here? There's no weapons or money stored here. Are you looking for someone?"

"Shut up!" He yelled, you let out a gasp at the sharp pain in your side.

Looking down the blade he was holding embedded in your side. Crumpling down to the floor, you watched as the deep red soaked into your blouse. Spreading across your side.

"What the fuck Darren. You weren't supposed to hurt anyone." A woman came up to the guy and yanked him by his shoulder. "We need to set these charges now and go. Now!"

Charges, that meant explosives.

The pair rushed off and left you bleeding on the floor. Giving you the opportunity to make an escape.

Making it back to Garcias office. You burst through the door, scaring the life out of her.

"Y/N! Oh my god why is there blood. There's a knife hanging out of you."

"Did you speak to Spence?" You asked locking the door behind you.

"Yeah he's in the armory now. They-"

"Call him back! Tell them to abort. Do not come up here!"

"OK, what-why?" She spluttered while calling him back.

"Garcia? Is everything okay. We're just planning how we're going to do this." He answered. You could hear the sound of kevlar being secured. You managed to stumble your way across the room to Garcias desk before your legs gave out.

"Spence, where are you? Do not come up here. And keep people out of the lifts. Do not use them." You panted.

"Y/N are you okay? We haven't left yet. What's going on?"

"I'm fine. I just met the intruders. They're setting charges. Evacuate the rest of the building."

"What? They're going to blow up the building?" Garcia asked, her face paling.

"How big are the explosives?"

"I didn't see. I just managed to get away from them. I did see it was only a small briefcase though."

"That could still be enough to wipe out the whole floor. You need to leave now. Use the far stairwell."

"Garcia, you should go."

"What? I'm not leaving you."

"Both of you go. Now!" Spencer raised his voice.

You shared a look with Garcia, knowing you weren't moving anywhere fast enough.

"We should be okay here," Garcia nodded, "I'll stay with her."

"You're hurt aren't you." Spencer spoke quietly.

"A little bit yeah. Spence, I love you."

"Don't do that. I'm coming to get you."

"No do-" and then the call rang off.

Garcia came and sat next to you. You rested your head on her shoulder.

"I don't get what they were talking about. They said about setting charges. But when the woman saw I'd been stabbed she said they weren't supposed to hurt anyone. How does that make sense." You mutter, starting to feel woozy from the blood loss.

"Unless what they're trying to destroy is paperwork not people," Garcia mused.

"Hotchs office, he keeps loads of important documents in there." You guessed.

"That makes sense. He always takes Sunday's off. So he wouldn't be in there to get hurt."

"Garcia you really should go. Maybe you can get some help." You said quietly. Feeling very lightheaded.

Garcias phone started ringing, answering it she put it on loudspeaker.

"Go ahead. We're just sitting here awaiting our handsome prince's to rescue us."

"Garcia." Spencer answered, "how badly is she hurt? They won't let us get in yet. Not if there's a bomb threat. The whole buildings on lock down. They aren't holding hostages. The other guys from the office have run out already. Are they still there?"

"Woah, woah, woah. One question at a time. Y/N isn't doing great. I don't know what to do Reid. I'm not a doctor. But she's still bleeding."

"What? What happened."

"She got stabbed by one of them. It's still in there but it's-"

"We have to get in there Y/Ns been stabbed. Please. I volunteer to go in. Come on Hotch." He sounded desperate, it made you smile slightly. The irony that it took a near death situation to get him to act like he cared again.

A deafening boom shook the office, jolting you awake.

"Shit was that the-?" You asked.

"I think so." Garcia nodded. "We're okay. Spencer can you hear me?"

You slumped down against Garcias shoulder a bit more. Fighting the urge to fall asleep.

"We saw it. Blown the windows out of Hotch's office as well."

"Tell him..." You trailed off falling into unconsciousness.

Garcia looked at you, panic washing over her. "Y/N? Spencer she's passed out. I don't know what to do- I know I shouldn't take the knife out."

"Is she sat up or laying down?"

"She's sat up, do I lie her down?"

"Yes, don't knock the knife though- I need EMTs with me right now- Garcia, I need you to check if she's breathing." Spencer sounded out of breath, "I'm coming to you as fast as I can."

"Okay, she's laying down. And yes she's breathing."

"You're doing well Garcia. We're seconds away now."

Garcia still let out a scream when the paramedics burst through the door. Stumbling away from your figure, she bumped shoulders with Spencer as the experts dealt with you.

"Do you think she's going to be okay?" Garcia asked him.

"I don't know. But I feel like a prized jackass now. What if she's not? She will have died thinking I was mad at her."

"I don't know what to say Reid. She was trying. She thought you'd stopped trying."

"The argument was stupid. I was more annoyed us arguing had ruined some plans I had."

"Plans? What do you-ohhh." Garcia cut herself off as she clocked onto what Spencer meant.

He quickly pocketed the small jewellery box as the EMT turned to the pair of them.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid

459 notes · View notes

parkerslatte · 3 days

Text

Happy Together

Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: mentions of Berons's abuse. mentions of injury

Summary: Apart of the Inner Circle, Y/N has to hide her relationship with Eris. When she is injured on a mission, Eris demands to see her and the truth is revealed.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

“Eris, I need to go,” Y/N said as Eris peppered kisses down her neck.

“I know,” Eris mumbled as he pulled her closer by her waist, burying his head in her neck.

Y/N held onto him tightly. Moments like this with Eris were few and far between. In public their passing glances and stolen touches were never enough. Y/N always craved more but that was never a possibility. With Beron still a threat to their relationship, Eris hid everything about his relationship with Y/N. Of course Y/N understood. All Eris wanted to do was protect her.

However, Eris was not the only one wanting to hide their relationship. Y/N hid her affections and love for Eris from the Inner Circle. With relations between Eris and her family being rocky, Y/N was never sure how they would react, especially Rhysand.

“I don’t want you to go,” Eris mumbled into her neck.

“I don’t want to go either,” Y/N replied, threading her fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

Eris pulled away and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, he pulled Y/N to him until she straddled his hips. Y/N’s arms lazily rested over his shoulders.

“Then perhaps we should stay here forever,” Eris suggested, wrapping his strong arms tightly around her waist. “We are deep in the Autumn woods after all. There is not anyone around for miles. We have everything we need here.”

Y/N giggled. “If that were a possibility, my love, I would accept in a heartbeat.”

Eris pecked her lips and suddenly pulled her down onto the bed. Y/N laughed in delight and surprise.

“Darling, I would leave Prythian with you if it would mean I could live happily with you,” Eris said. “I would be able to wake up with you in my arms every night. I would be able to love you in the open and the discreet brushes of our fingers will be no more. I will get to cherish you and be with you. And be happy.”

Eris rolled over so his face hovered above Y/N’s. He smiled down at her, though it was saddened by the pain in his eyes. “But I know that is an impossibility.”

Y/N caressed Eris’s face. “One day it will be possible. One day we will get to live happily, Eris. And I will live to see that day and so will you. No matter how long it may take.”

As she looked into Eris’s eyes, Y/N wanted to cry. The pain within them was clear, the pain he only ever showed her. With each time Y/N saw Eris, which nowadays was very few and far between, the more tired he looked, the more scars adorned his body. But every single time he saw her, his eyes would light up and the smile that appeared on his beautiful face would always be seared into her brain. She never wanted to take that joy away from him.

Y/N reluctantly pushed Eris’s chest and he fell onto the bed next to her.

“I do need to go now,” Y/N said sadly.

“I know,” Eris replied. “I do too. I have a meeting with my father.”

Y/N caressed his cheek. “Don’t let him put you down, Eris. You are a better male than him and you always will be.” Y/N began to tear up. “I wish I could be by your side.”

Eris wiped her tears away. “Sweetheart, I want you nowhere near that despicable male.”

“I know but I want to be there for you in case he does anything,” Y/N cried. “I cannot hate you being hurt, Eris.”

“Soon,” Eris said, hugging her close. “You will be able to soon.”

Y/N hugged him back. “I better be. Because not being by your side is the cruellest form of torture.”

“It is for me as well, my love,” Eris said, resting his forehead on hers.

Y/N pulled away reluctantly once again. “I really need to go. I have a mission with Azriel.”

Eris’s eyes darkened. “Be careful.”

Y/N pecked his lips. “I always am.”

***

It was over three weeks later when Eris paced inside of his cabin deep in the woods. Y/N was an hour late. Once a month they met without fail at the cabin and she had never missed a meeting until now. Inside of him, Eris could feel a sense of pure dread.

The three weeks since he had been with Y/N had been agony. Each night he suffered alone without her. His soul called out to be with her. After the beating his father gave him after he spoke back, Eris remembered dragging himself back to his chambers and cried, it was the first time he had ever cried after an altercation with his father. All he wanted was Y/N and it was getting harder and harder to be without her. He craved her in body and soul. He needed to be with her.

Now as Eris shrugged his jacket back on, he left the safety of his cabin and winnowed right to the Night Court.

***

Eris had only taken a few steps into Velaris before he was immediately backed into a wall. Shadows forced the air out of him as Eris fought against the restraints.

“You can show yourself, shadowsinger,” Eris spat. “I am not here to pick a fight.”

Azriel stepped out from the shadows. “You decided that the moment you decided to breach the wards.”

Eris cocked his head to the right. “Let me go, Azriel.”

“Why are you here, Eris?” Azriel questioned.

“It doesn’t concern you,” Eris replied.

The shadows on Eris’s arms pinned him harder against the wall. Eris winced. The wounds on his back still hadn’t healed properly yet.

“I am only going to ask you once more,” Azriel said, his voice low. “Why are you here?”

“And I am telling you again,” Eris said, feeling his power grow more restless. “It does not concern you.”

Before Azriel could even move, Eris burned through Azriel’s shadows. They retreated, hurt, back to their master. The shocked face of Azriel was the only thing Eris could focus on.

“Do not follow me, shadowsinger,” Eris said. “If you know what’s good for you.” Eris turned and continued on his way.

“Is that a threat?” Azriel questioned.

“Yes,” Eris said without breaking stride. “Yes it is.”

***

Eris finally made it to Y/N’s house in the heart of Velaris. He had only ever been there once but he still recalled the address. There were many looking at him as they walked by but Eris couldn’t find it within himself to care. The only thing he cared about was hopefully the other side of the door.

“Y/N!” Eris called through the door. “Y/N, please open the door.”

“She isn’t there,” a voice spoke up behind Eris.

Eris stopped his knocking and turned to face the High Lord of the Night Court. Rhys stood intimidating in front of Eris but Eris was not intimidated in the slightest. He could find himself becoming more angry by the minute.

“Where is she, Rhysand?” Eris demanded.

“In the town house,” Rhys answered. “Healing.”

Eris felt his blood run cold. “What happened, Rhysand?”

Rhys brushed a piece of lint from his jacket. “I don’t believe you are entitled to that information. What do you even know of Y/N? I have never seen you so much as talk to her.”

Eris’s gaze darkened. “I know here better than anyone could ever know.”

Rhys stilled. “What do you mean, Eris?”

“Take me to her,” Eris demanded.

“You shouldn’t be demanding things of me in my own court, Eris,” Rhys said.

“I will do whatever the fuck I please,” Eris yelled, losing all sense of composure. “You will take me to see my mate, Rhysand of Mother help you.”

Rhys stood, shocked. “Your mate?”

“Yes my mate,” Eris spat. “Now you are going to take me to her right now, Rhysand, or I will not be afraid to burn this whole city to the ground.”

Wordlessly, Rhys led Eris to the town house. The moment Rhys opened the doors, Eris brushed past him. Despite not knowing the house layout, Eris knew just where his mate was. He simply followed that golden thread that led him to her.

The moment Eris opened the door he nearly collapsed. Y/N was laying on top of a bed, bandages wrapped around her body. Eris rushed over to her side and took her within his arms. He could feel Rhys’s presence behind him.

“When did this happen?” Eris asked.

“A week ago,” Rhys answered. “We have kept her asleep to let her heal faster.”

“Was this anything to do with the mission you sent her and Azriel on?” Eris questioned.

“How do you know about that?” Rhys asked.

“Where do you think she goes every time she leaves the court for personal matters?” Eris asks. “She comes to me.”

“How long has this been going on?” Rhys demanded an answer.

“Nearly ten years,” Eris answered, brushing Y/N’s hair away from her face.

“Why wouldn’t she tell us?” Rhys asked.

“Because she was afraid of how you would react,” Eris answered. “I may not like anyone involved in your Inner Circle but you are the closest thing she has to a family. She didn’t want to lose all of you because she is in love with me.”

Loud footsteps came down the hall and three faces peered in. One Eris had already had the pleasure to encounter not too long ago. Azriel, Cassian and Mor stood in the doorway to Y/N’s room.

“We came as soon as Azriel informed us,” Cassian said.

“What’s going on?” Mor asked, looking at Eris. “Why is he here?”

“Eris is Y/N’s mate,” Rhys answered.

The silence in the room was deafening but Eris didn’t care. He only continued to brush down Y/N’s hair and grip onto her hand. The slow rise and fall of her chest was reassuring but she shouldn’t have to be in this position in the first place.

“Why didn’t she tell us?” Azriel said, his voice rising in anger. “We are her family. We should have known.”

“This is exactly why she never wanted to tell any of you,” Eris snapped. “She knew none of you would ever accept it, not truly.”

“Why did you allow him in here, Rhys?” Cassian questioned.

“Because he is her mate,” Rhys said. “And you know how serious mating bonds are in the Autumn Court.”

“I wonder if Beron knows you are here,” Cassian comments. “Turning up to another court uninvited would sour our relationship with the Autumn Court.”

Eris’s blood ran cold. “You cannot tell him.”

“We have every right to,” Mor replied. “You are an uninvited guest.”

Eris finally tore his gaze away from Y/N. “None of you are going to say a damn thing about this to him or anyone else.”

“Why shouldn’t we?” Azriel questioned.

“If you value Y/N’s life, you must not tell him,” Eris said, gripping onto Y/N’s hand tighter. “The main reason why no one ever knew of our bond and relationship was because I am afraid of what he will do to her if he finds out.” His voice was vulnerable and Eris hated himself for it. “I would much rather he lay his hands on me for disobeying him instead of her for loving me.”

The room fell silent and Eris let out a shaky breath. “I do not like any of you but I know that you will do anything to keep Y/N safe, and I appreciate that. But none of you will keep her safe as I have, as I always will. I will crawl to hell and back to keep her safe. I will give my life for hers in a heartbeat. I will put aside my own happiness if it means that she gets to live and be safe without the torment and abuse of my father. I will endure all of that abuse and torment if it means I get to keep her safe. If it means I still get to see her every few weeks, I will endure anything because I am in love with her. She is my mate and the centre of my universe, I live for her. Everytime anything gets too much for me or my father strikes me just the smallest bit harder, all I need to think about is her and I will have a reason to go on, to keep going, keep fighting.

“I know you four see me as a villain and perhaps I am in your eyes,” Eris continued. “But Y/N sees me, the real me. The parts of myself I never show to anyone but her.” Eris turned back to Y/N. “You can kick me out if you want to, but I am begging you when I say, do not tell my father.”

When Eris rested his palm against Y/N’s cheek her eyes fluttered and her head turned into his hand. It was only a small movement but made Eris smile regardless.

“Have you accepted the bond yet?” Rhys asked.

“No,” Eris replied. “Because the moment we do it is the moment my father will find out and I cannot risk that.”

Rhys sighed. “You may stay here tonight. Don’t give her the sleeping potion in the bottle on the cabinet, she should wake up normally in the morning.”

“Rhys–”

“We should leave them be,” Rhys said. “We can discuss what this means when Y/N is healed.”

Rhys leaves the room, followed by Mor, Azriel and Cassian. As soon as the door closed with a firm ‘click’, Eris finally allowed the tears to fall. He brought Y/N’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against her knuckles. “We should have stayed in the cabin.”

***

The moment Y/N awoke her body ached and there was a bandage wrapped around her. She groaned as she began to sit up. The moment her eyes opened she was greeted by the familiar sight of her bedroom but there was one thing unfamiliar about it. Eris slept in the chair to her right, his jacket rested across the back of it.

Y/N furrowed her brows. “Eris?”

The moment she spoke his name, Eris’s eyes shot open. “Y/N?”

“Why are you here?” Y/N asked. “What happened?”

Eris shuffled the chair closer and grasped her hand in his. Y/N gave it a small squeeze. “You were injured on your mission. You have been healing since.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you are here?” Y/N said and tugged his hand closer to her. “Not that I am not enjoying your presence.”

Eris sighed. “At the cabin. You didn’t show up and I knew something was wrong.”

“But we weren’t meant to meet at the cabin for another week?” Y/N said.

“Honey, you have been asleep for a week while you have been healing,” Eris replied.

“What?” Y/N said. “Eris I am so sorry, you must have been worried when I didn’t show up.”

“I was,” Eris replied. “And I had good reason to be.”

“I have had worse injuries than this, Eris,” Y/N said, shuffling to rest her back against the headboard. Y/N patted the bed next to her and Eris obliged, wrapping an arm around her and gently pulled her to his side.

“It doesn’t matter,” Eris said, kissing the top of her head. “You were hurt and that is all I cared about.”

Y/N nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. “Rhys knows, doesn't he?”

“He does,” Eris answered. “As does Azriel, Cassian and Morrigan.”

“How did they react?” Y/N asked, dreading to know the answer. “Did they take it well?”

“That is up for debate,” Eris said, lacing his fingers with hers. “But right now I don’t care about any of that. The only thing I care about is you.”

“I am perfectly fine, Eris,” Y/N replied. “I ache a little but nothing I can’t handle. But what I want to know is, are you okay? You mentioned a meeting with your father.”

“It wasn’t anything I wasn’t already expecting, let me put it that way,” Eris replied.

Y/N shuffled on the bed so she could fully see Eris. There was a white bandage peeking out of his shirt. She pulled him into a hug. “I am sorry, Eris. I wish I could have been there for you.”

Eris hugged her back, cradling her head. “You were there with me, not physically, but through your love. You were the one who got me through it.”

“I love you so much,” Y/N said. “I wish I could show everyone just how much I adore you. I wish to not hide it anymore. I want to see you more than once every few weeks. I want to be able to hold your hand and dance with you at balls. We have been hiding for ten years and it hurts me to keep my love hidden. It is too much for me now.”

“Maybe your wishes can come true sooner than you may think,” Eris said. “Y/N, I wish to have you by my side for eternity and I cannot do that with my father still in power.”

Y/N pulled away. “Eris, you cannot mean–”

“I do mean exactly that,” Eris said. “I will kill my father if that is what it takes for you to be safe, for my mother to be safe and for the rest of the Autumn Court. I love you, Y/N and I wish for everyone to know how much I love you. I wish to have a family with you. I wish to have a life with you. And I wish to finally accept our mating bond officially.”

“I want that too, Eris,” Y/N said. “I want all that and more, just as long as it’s with you.”

Eris smiled and Y/N felt it deep within her. His smile always made everything feel okay because the moment he smiled Y/N knew he was truly at ease. He surged forward and pressed his lips against hers.

Y/N welcomed them and wrapped him within her arms.

#acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra x reader

428 notes · View notes

pinkiemachine · 3 days

Text

I’ve only done some light reading on Selina, but even so, details on her past seem few and far between. Maybe there’s a reason, maybe I just haven’t looked hard enough, whatever. Someone can enlighten me in the comments. What I do know, however, is that she’s eluded to have experienced some form of abuse as a child. Now, this research came on the heels of brushing up on the rest of Batman’s rogues’ gallery and I gotta say, abuse as a backstory comes up a lot. And I’m just sitting here, like, “There are so many unique people in this world with unique traumas and hurts that this feels almost cookie cutter.” Am I wrong? I just wanna be more specific and explore problems more intimately. So… Selina Kyle. What to write for her backstory? I thought a lot about who she is as a character present day—her playful aloofness, her decision to become a cat burglar, breaking rules as if they don’t exist, always on the run, never settling down with anyone long term, stealing nice things for herself—it led me to this backstory: When Selina was a child, she was horribly neglected. Her father was almost never around and her mother was depressed, anxious, under the influence of alcohol quite often, and wished she never had a daughter. Selina found that it was always easier to live as though she were invisible. If she never got caught making a mess or being noisy or causing problems, her mother would never get mad at her, or even a acknowledge her, and neither would her father if he ever showed his face. She never received birthday gifts—or if she did, they were pitiful—and all of her attempts of reaching out via gifts to her mother and father were rejected. She was never loved and grew to believe that the only way she would ever feel cared for is if she just took care of herself and only herself. She was good at being invisible, and so she became good at stealing. She treated herself to nice things whenever she felt like it, and she rarely ever got caught. She never made close friends. She never really fell in love. She built up walls so high that no one could ever break them down… until she met Bruce. Suddenly, here was a guy who could consistently catch her red-handed. Who told her she needed to stop robbing people. Who believed she could be better. Who saw her. And even though she kept double-crossing him, escaping his grasp, and escaping justice, she found that it was a little bit harder to return to crime every time. She had always found him attractive… but the longer they chased each other around Gotham, and the longer he showed that he wasn’t going to ignore her or give up on her, the more that attraction turned into a deep feeling that Selina had never felt before. True love. She was scared of it. She didn’t know what to do with it. It was completely the opposite of everything she had ever known, and she secretly didn’t think she deserved it. After all, she was a criminal. She was a “bad guy.” Someone who stole from others for pleasure and profit. And yet Bruce believed she was a good person deep down. He believed she had the capacity for change. And in time, he would find himself falling in love with her too. By the end of their story, naturally, those walls had come crumbling down and they had each learned how to love again, something they both thought would never happen to them. 💜

#fan art #art #dc #dc comics #batman #Bruce wayne #Selina Kyle #Catwoman #batxcat

341 notes · View notes

daycourtofficial · 2 days

Text

I will follow you into the dark

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 3k | warnings: character death, depictions of violence and gore, depressive tendencies shown

Summary: going through the five stages of grief after Azriel’s death is much easier with his shadows’ assistance

Alternate summary: “daycourtofficial stabs everyone in the heart” - @milswrites

Author’s note: this is heartbreaking as hell but I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever written. I legitimately sobbed while typing this. Tagging my pookie @illyrianbitch bc I sent her an early draft and her fic ‘when the heart is still longing’ inspired a scene in this

Cold. Ruthless. Calculated.

Words used to describe who Azriel was for the first five hundred years of his life. He wore a mask of indifference, a cold exterior to the world, letting them believe he was nothing more than the cruel exterior he showed everyone past his beloved family.

Until he met you.

You, whose extraordinary kindness and never ending patience for him helped him through the darkest pits of his soul.

It’s this past self he thinks about as the blade meets his skin, tearing through layers of muscle, blood spilling down his chest as it’s removed.

It’s this past self he reaches out to, begging for one moment to go back. To go back and save himself so much time. He would go back, his wings carrying him across Prythian, his landing harsh as he sprinted through your hometown.

He wouldn’t stop until he knocked on your door, his knuckles aching from how hard he would knock. He’d give anything to go back, even if it was just an extra forty-five minutes. He would run until his lungs burned, his legs barely able to hold himself up. He’d run down the cobbled street the two of you would walk down after a night at Rita’s, leaning against each other for support after a night of drinking.

He’d run past the bakery the two of you would meet at every Thursday morning, splitting pastries between the two of you and gossiping about your friends. He’d run up the stairs to your apartment, running up the steps you two walked thousands of times. He’d stop in front of that green door, the spot you two stood in for your first kiss.

He would knock and knock and knock, his fingers bleeding from how hard his knuckles were hitting the wood. He’d look at you as you opened the door, confused as to who he was and what he was doing there.

“You don’t know me, but in a few days I’m going to run into you at the bookstore. I’ll be with my friend Nesta and she’ll push me into you. She’s never admitted it, but I think she saw how I was staring at you and did it to force me to talk to you.

“You were so pretty, paging through some novel. I owe Nesta everything for pushing me into you, making me fall into the chair you were sitting in. It looked ridiculous - Nesta made sure to let Feyre broadcast it to everyone.

“I never cared. You were everything then, and you’ve been everything to me for over a century. What I wouldn’t give to come back here, to find you earlier, even just forty-five minutes. I’d give anything for more time with you.”

His eyes would peer around the apartment you moved out of decades and decades ago, moving all of your furniture into the house a ten minute walk from here. It would all smell like you, not a trace of him on you yet.

He would beg and plead with any god as to why he deserves just one extra minute of your time.

But he’s not in that apartment that you don’t own anymore, he’s somewhere in the present, he thinks. Azriel’s not sure where he is, but he reaches out towards you, trying to send every ounce of his love down that bridge that connects the two of you. He reaches a hand out, wanting to hold you one last time. He can feel your fear thrumming his chest as your hands frantically apply pressure to his neck, trying desperately to stop the bleeding.

He interrupts your pleas, stroking his fingers on your cheek, smearing his blood across it.

You’re here, he thinks.

He loved making you blush, your own blood changing the color of your cheeks as he flirted with you. Now his own blood was coloring your skin, a last marking of himself on you.

Every word from his mouth caused the blood to gush from his wound, but he didn’t care. He was fighting for every breath, every word. He knew this was the end. He was just grateful to the Mother that the last thing he’d see in this life was you.

He chokes on his blood, coughing exacerbating the wound.

“In every life.”

He pulls himself up, using your shoulders to brace himself. He pulls your lips to his, soft and delicate, as if it’s the first time he’s kissing you all over again. As if you’re back on that cobblestone street, the two of you standing right in front of your door, a mess of limbs and lips.

The blood on his neck is traded for the tie he wore, one that you had complimented him on as you saw him. You had pulled him down to you by his tie, pulling him to your lips.

And now he was pulling himself up to you, a final goodbye.

He pours everything into it, pouring every last bit of himself through the string connecting the two of you, clinging desperately to that connection for every moment.

You kiss him back just as urgently, hands holding his wounds. His mouth is salty as your tears start running into the kiss, your hands sticky and warm with his blood.

Your kisses become more and more urgent as he starts losing energy, your sense of urgency increasing as he starts fading, that golden bridge connecting the two of you not as bright as it was with each passing moment.

You know he stopped kissing you back a moment ago, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. This should be a fairytale and true love’s kiss is enough to bring someone back.

You pull back, moving his face into your neck, unable to let go. You can’t hear anything except the echo of where your bond was, as if it clanged all the way down your body as it disconnected you from him. You feel someone grip your shoulders, desperate to pull you away from your mate. Your sobs are piercing as you tighten your grip on him.

He’s still warm, he can come back. Still warm, he’ll be back. You start rocking with him in your arms, your tears creating tracks in the blood on your face. A body is pressed to your back, large and warm, and large tan hands cover your own on Azriel’s face. You hear slight sounds, you think it might be Cassian, but you’re not sure.

You don’t feel his tears on your neck

All you feel is a deep, gaping hole inside of you where Azriel lives.

Lived.

Your breaths come fast and choppy, and you start jerking in Cassian’s arms, the feeling of him too much, too much. You felt suffocated, your powers boiling within you as his body grows colder.

His shadows slithered over you, several of them still remaining with their master. Their patterns were meant to be soothing, but it wasn’t working. Several of them cloak Azriel in mourning, their usual energetic nature dulled in the aftermath.

The air in the room changes as all the heat is sucked into your body, your skin blazing. It happens so quickly - you feel Cassian pull away from you as someone slides Azriel’s body from yours, somebody else rushing forward and tackling you to the ground. Instead of hitting hard flooring, your head hits grass, your body racing with adrenaline.

You look up to find Rhysand letting go of you before backing up. He has tears down his face, his eyes a muddier shade of violet than before.

“Let it out. Here. Now.”

Your skin is boiling, everything in you desperate for release. All you feel is the tendril of a lone shadow around your ankle as you burn. You can’t hear Rhys’s sobs, only the roaring of the fire as the grass catches the spark.

The next week goes by in a blur. A funeral - one where the town of black wore deep blue to honor your mate’s lifetime of sacrifice. A few shadows remain with you, the only reason you’re able to get through his funeral is with their touch.

“Hey Az.”

The grass is wet with dew, the early morning fog sticking to it. You don’t notice how damp the ground is beneath you as you sit next to him. Your hands grasp the grass next to his grave, the dirt over his grave too fresh for anything to be growing on top of it.

Your fingers thread through the blades, holding tightly, as if you can uproot them and pull him back to the surface, back to you. As if you kept digging you could find that bond nestled within you somewhere.

Your lip wobbles as you try to say something, anything. The various flower arrangements that surround you both speak of how many visitors he’s had.

He would tell you that the bouquet of orange lilies are from Elain, because those are currently in bloom in Day. He would tell you that the arrangement of blue and black came from Rhysand and Feyre, the flowers meaning ‘a great sacrifice’.

You can’t bring yourself to tell him how the world has become duller in his absence, how you hardly eat or bathe, hardly leave your home at all. How Nesta and Feyre take turns visiting you, ensuring you eat and bathe, getting you to move your legs at least once a day.

He’d be disappointed you weren’t taking care of yourself. He’d want you to continue on, despite the unbearable horrors that live in your chest. It felt like your entire ribcage were burst open, your pain and sadness leaking out of every pore for all to see.

Despite the fact that centuries together have led you here, at the end of the road. A road you happily traveled, knowing it would end here eventually.

You’d never regret choosing him, opening yourself up to this inevitable heartache.

You just regret every moment that happens now that he’s gone.

His shadows have followed you to the cemetery, their presence one you’re grateful for. You know they love you, much like Azriel did, and you’ll take any part of him you can cling onto.

You know they’ll leave eventually. No one understood them. Were they sentient beings? Or were they mere whispers of Azriel’s presence, an echo of an echo of his power, disappearing whenever they wish?

You sit, your back leaned against his tombstone, the words “beloved mate” pressing into your back. You moved over, wanting to be as close as possible to him. You don’t much care if the dirt sticks to your skirts. Nuala and Cerridwen won’t say anything to you. They felt his absence too.

You push your hand into the dirt, grasping at it in hopes he’ll grasp your hand back. All you feel are the shadows swarming your fingertips, imitating his soft touch.

You lay in your bed, the one that is much too large without your mate. The shadows cloak over you like a blanket, carrying his smell with them.

They missed him too.

You sealed some of Azriel’s clothes away, a magical enchantment that preserved their smell. You were grateful you had the shadows for now, however fleeting their presence may be.

Where Nesta and Feyre helped you bathe, the shadows helped keep your room clean. You stayed in the House of Wind, everyone agreeing you shouldn’t be alone during this time. That was weeks ago, you think.

You’re not really sure.

Time wasn’t moving like it used to anymore. Hours and days pass without your notice, a gray fog hanging over you at all times. You move through the monotony of grief, unaware of your surroundings or how you get anywhere half the time.

You blink and find yourself at his grave.

“It was supposed to be me,” you half yell at the grave marker, your blood getting warmer with your anger.

You hate it. You hate how everything he was, six centuries of a life well-lived, were boiled down to adjectives and monikers.

“Beloved mate.”

“Beloved brother.”

You hated those words, as if that’s all he were. The words don’t tell how he would pick you up when you fell asleep reading and carry you to bed, how he’d help you cheat every time you played cards against Cassian because you laughed so hard whenever he flipped the table, or how his fingers would brush the hair from your face when the two of you cooked dinner every night.

‘Beloved’ is nothing to how your chest felt when he’d come home and see you before he updated Rhysand after being gone so you knew he was okay.

‘Brother’ is not enough to convey how much he loved Rhysand and Cassian, how much love and sacrifice they poured into each other.

“You said I could go first. You promised. And now I’m here, alone, without you. And I don’t- I don’t know how to do it.”

You were yelling, screaming at this slab of granite. You kicked the flowers on the grave, watching them fly through the air as the petals fell.

Yellow for friendship.

“It was supposed to be me! Not you!”

You tug at your hair before you lose all your strength, sinking into the grass covering his grave. Your tears resemble morning dew as they cling to the grass, your knees becoming green with the contact. A few shadows wind through your hair, a few others bring back the bouquet you kicked, placing the flowers back where they were, albeit a bit damaged.

“You’ve never broken a promise before.”

Your voice is weak, the stone in front of you unresponsive to your breakdown.

Life moves on. Everyone feels Azriel absence - even Lucien, so full of words is quieter around you. They don’t know how to talk to you anymore, your life becoming more and more hollow as the mating bond in your chest decays, growing into a moldy, decaying thing that turned you rotten.

Why him? Why couldn’t it have been anyone else? Why was it your mate - the one who sacrificed everything all of the time? Why wasn’t it Cassian or Rhysand or any of his spies?

Anyone but him.

You’d do anything.

The days keep moving, the forward progress of time a joke to you. Or perhaps you were the joke to the Mother. You slug through the days, finally able to bathe and dress yourself, but struggling to remember to eat.

Then the voices start.

It’s one soft voice, one you could hear in any lifetime, any world and know who it belonged to. His voice soft as ever delicately telling you to eat, coming and going on the wind around mealtimes.

You listened to it. You could never stay no to him, even if it was just an echo of him living in his shadows.

It was well known amongst his family members that Rhysand required his beauty sleep. Eight hours minimum of undisturbed slumber.

Which is why he is tearing through his house on a warpath at whoever is at his door at 2:30 in the morning. He angrily slung on a robe, harshly opening his door, ready to chew out who lay on the other side.

He did not expect to find you, panic stricken, shadows swirling around you.

Your sobs fill his ears, “they won’t stop, Rhys. They keep telling me everything. That Feyre’s asleep, Nyx is asleep and cooing. Cassian’s snoring, Nesta’s awake and brewing tea. They won’t stop.”

You start to collapse, but the shadows hold you up long enough for Rhysand to grab you and bring you in through the threshold.

He places you down on the couch and inspects the shadows swirling around you. He watches them flit about, some moving away, some circling you. He steps on one as it slithers past him, holding it in place.

He looks at you as he grabs the shadow, holding it between his thumb and forefinger, watching it wiggle in his grasp.

“Is this the first time they’ve spoken to you?”

You shake your head no, whispering, “they speak one at a time usually. And not like this.”

His gaze is sympathetic, sitting you on his sofa. “What do they usually say?”

You look down at your shoes, a sense of shyness overcoming you. You pick at your pants, “mostly to eat and take care of myself.”

You hum, remembering, “last week one of them told me Nyx was going to fall, which is how I caught him so quickly.”

Rhys’s eyes are penetrating as he gazes at you, his eyes are a curious shade of violet.

“Can we try something?”

Months later, you return home, the black of your clothes hiding the blood soaked within them. You traipse through the foyer, forgetting it was even family game night. Their conversations halt at your appearance. Despite wearing the same colors of the Night Court, the black looks like a deeper shade on you.

Or perhaps the shadows circling you made you look as if you belonged amidst them rather than the fae looking at you.

You nod to Rhys, your only form of communication these days. He nods back, a strained smile on his lips, devastated to watch what you’ve become, grateful he made a pact with Feyre to never continue on without her.

You don’t miss how his hand squeezes her a little too tight.

Your family watches as you step back into the shadows, the darkness consuming you once more. You prefer to stay in them instead of being alone. You linger in their embrace, their consumption of you everything you need, the remnants of Azriel’s scent lingering in this liminal space. You inhale his scent once more, tears stinging your eyes. In the darkness that surrounds you, never knowing where you end or begin, not knowing exactly where in the world you were.

Where nothing and everything existed, floating through your mate’s truest companions, you hear his voice calling to you, the soft tenor of his voice coming from a direction you can’t quite pinpoint.

Or perhaps it was only an echo.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading 💕

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar writing #azriel x y/n

275 notes · View notes

simplyholl · 2 days

Text

The Interview

Summary: After a talk show interview where secrets are revealed, things get heated in your dressing room.

Pairing: Rockstar Bucky x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Rockstar AU.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee has me in a chokehold. So this was born from my tatted, horny daydreams.

"Who is your celebrity crush?" The host of the Midnight Show, Chet Smith asked you. Your newest movie was a box office hit, so you had to do every talk show to promote it. To say you were exhausted is an understatement. Luckily, this was your last stop for today. This show was the most fun because Chet brought out all the celebrity guests together. At least you weren't by yourself answering awkward questions.

The other guests were Red Star, the hottest rock band at the moment. They went viral while playing at their local bar. An audience member threw a bottle at their lead singer, Loki and the whole band jumped off stage to fight. They were offered a record deal the same week.

They are known for their wild videos on TikTok. Women everywhere love them. Currently, they are squeezed on the small sofa with you for the interview. Bucky Barnes, their drummer sat on one side of you, his tattoos drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were doing your best to not stare at him the whole time.

The Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki were on the other side. Loki is the lead singer, his long, dark curls and piercing stare made men and women weak in the knees. Thor plays guitar and he is the band's himbo. He's a charmer, flirting with you the whole interview. Steve Rogers is their bassist, an All-American guy to balance the others out. He plays the part well, flashing his megawatt smile at the live audience. But you can tell there is a darker side to him lurking under the surface.

You consider Chet's question; your PR team warned you about questions like this. "Well, I don't really have one." You shrug your shoulders, as the audience begs for a real answer. "Come on, darling. I know you're lying." Loki smirks, reaching his hand over Thor to rub your thigh.

"If I go first, will that help?" Steve asks, being the helpful guy that he is. You nod smiling shyly at him. "Okay, but when it's your turn you have to be honest." He winks at you, and the audience goes wild. He answers one of your costars. You promise to hook them up later. You feel your cheeks heating up, suddenly embarrassed that you have to answer now.

Chet repeats the question, and you bite your lip, pointing beside you to Bucky. "My celebrity crush is actually this guy." Bucky looks ecstatic, high fiving his band members as they congratulate him as if he has won an award. Thor's answer is a pretty pop star who he had been spotted out with twice already.

Loki's celebrity crush is a famous author whose upcoming book features a main male character who looks suspiciously like him. Dating rumors swirled even though there was no proof, except for a few flirty comments between them on Instagram. When it's Bucky's turn he says you, draping his heavily tattooed arm around you. You smile, grateful that he lied to save you from public humiliation. You were sure he was going to say someone who didn't look anything like you.

You're already dreading what the headlines tomorrow had in store. You and Bucky cuddled up on this sofa would no doubt be on every website. You should have lied, you tell yourself. People will start shipping you, his fans would be saying horrible things about you. You should have said anyone else.

Red Star took the stage to close the show. They were playing their latest number one hit. The audience was on their feet, some girls were crying as Loki's sultry voice came over the speakers. You watched Bucky closely. He played the drums like it was his life's purpose. He tossed the drumsticks in the air, pointing to you and winking as he caught them. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

When their set was over, Bucky walked toward the dressing rooms with you, stopping outside yours. "Thanks for saying I was your celebrity crush back there. I would have been so embarrassed if you would have said somebody else." He flips his hair out of his eyes. "You don't have to thank me. It was the truth." You tell him goodbye, feeling awkward about the whole thing. You turn to go inside your dressing room to change into comfy clothes before you go back to the hotel.

Thick fingers catch your wrist, pulling you back toward him. "I wasn't ready to tell you bye." Bucky's lips curl, the light shines on his nose ring, bringing attention to his face. When you look into his shining blue eyes, you realize you don't want him to leave either. You grab the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him toward you. His mouth is on yours instantly. He presses you against your dressing room door, his large body covering yours.

You tangle your fingers in his long locks, needing him closer. Bucky hungrily kisses down your neck, while one hand travels under your dress. He rubs his thumb against your soaked panties. "All this for me?" You whine when he rubs harder, your clit making contact with the silky fabric. You move your hips, lost in the moment.

Voices echo down the hallway, bringing you out of your horny haze. "Bucky" You whisper, trying to warn him so he has time to stop before they see you. "Shh. I got you." He moves his body, so he is blocking you from view. His fingers are relentless, dipping inside your panties. His rough thumb rolls over your clit, you bury your face into his chest.

"Oh my God, It's Bucky! We are huge fans!" A woman's voice comes from behind him. You aren't brave enough to look, so you keep your face hidden. "Thanks guys. I love meeting fans. So, what's your favorite song?" You try to pinch him so he will get rid of them, but he continues talking about the world tour they are about to go on.

He enters you with two fingers, curling them as you moan out loud. The women look around him, finally noticing you. "Is she okay?" The second one asks. "Yeah, she's fine. She just ate too much so she has a stomachache." His fingers caress your inner walls, thumb rubbing in small circles. The band in your belly snaps, arousal flooding his hand as you come apart. Your legs shake, and you hold onto his arm to steady yourself. You clench your teeth to keep from making noise.

"You better get her inside; she can barely stand." One of the women says. They tell you both goodbye, as Bucky leads you inside your dressing room. "You did so good for me, but I need more." You look at him incredulously. He just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life in front of two strangers and that wasn't enough.

Your legs are still trembling as he lifts you onto the vanity. Your back hits the cool mirror as Bucky slides your panties down your legs. His hot breath tickles your thighs as he lowers his face, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. He takes his time, nipping your sensitive skin. He licks a lazy stripe up your center, avoiding where you need him most. His tongue sinks inside you, firm nose pressing against your clit.

You cry out, head falling back, knocking into the mirror behind you. It bangs against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hung there. Bucky drinks every drop of you, moaning as you writhe against his face. His plump lips fasten around your swollen nub, sucking and tugging like he can't get enough.

Your shaking legs close around his head, trapping him as you ride out your high. You cry his name, not caring who hears you. Bucky lifts you, slamming you against the wall. He holds you with one arm, the other works quickly to bring his pants down. His cock springs free, pink tip leaking. You swallow hard, intimidated by his size. "You're so big." You shiver, anticipation putting you on edge. He holds you, lining your bodies up.

"You can take it." He snaps his hips up, slamming into you. You try to adjust as he stretches you, wiggling around to see if the stinging will go away. When it starts feeling good, your arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls out, leaving the tip in. He thrusts back into you, bottoming out. You have never felt so full, he fills every inch of you. He sets a steady rhythm, every part of him feels like it was made for you. You pulse around him, your back hitting against the wall as he sinks impossibly deeper.

Bucky bunches your dress around your hips, thick fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you're too weak from the explosive orgasms he already gave you. You hold onto him as he uses your body, his ragged breath on your neck brings forth the familiar pressure in your lower stomach.

"You're doing so good. Fuck! You take me so well." He praises, moving your thigh higher up his torso. He holds it in place, tilting his hips. The new angle makes your vision blur as he deliciously drags against a place you were sure was a myth until this very moment. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you shatter around him.

Bucky's thrusts grow brutal, taking what he needs from you. "Oh fuck" He moans as he spills inside you. For a moment, you just look at each other, trying to catch your breaths. Thankfully, he knows you can't stand on your own, so he carries you to the sofa. Your dress is still around your waist, arm over your eyes. You can already feel a dull ache in your stomach where he had been just moments ago.

"Do you mind?" Bucky asks, pointing his phone toward you. You narrow your eyes, not understanding. "You're just so fuckin' hot and I wanna remember this." He says, his meaning finally dawning on you. You nod, almost too tired to speak. He angles his phone camera toward you. "Fucking perfect." He examines the photo he just took before showing you.

Your hair is disheveled, giving you the appearance of being caught in a windstorm. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The top of your dress barely contains your breasts. The bottom is by your hips, your exposed cunt glistening with his cum. Bucky set the picture as his phone's background. You protested because you looked like a mess. Bucky stopped your arguing with a kiss. "You know what you look like?" He asks, smiling wide as he turned his phone screen toward you. "What?" You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling insecure. "Mine."

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan @kcd15

269 notes · View notes

cb97percent · 1 day

Text

Aphrodisiacs · 「Déclencheur」

➥ Model!Minho x Photographer!Reader (f) — 3.5k

➥ The author chooses not to issue tags for everything that takes place in this work to preserve some element of surprise where applicable. By continuing, you accept to proceed at your own risk. Read full disclaimer here.

⚠ — Crass & objectifying language, raging praise kink.

➥ It’s a known fact that Lee Minho is a whore for compliments, but it’s a particularly useful piece of information when you want to seduce the shit out of him.

If you had Lee Minho on the cover of your magazine, that issue was a guaranteed killer sale. Regardless of his obscenely high booking fee, he was the it guy everybody was after to do a pictorial with. So pleasant to look at, extremely attractive, smolder for days, practically a modern-day sex icon who could and would fuck you through a goddamn photograph.

Your shoot days with him were more like a self-indulgent me time rather than work due to how aggressively you were flirting with each other. He probably did this with everyone, but who would give a rat’s ass really? Your ego was getting stroked to the point of having violent orgasms, and you weren’t complaining.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t have the teensiest bit of a crush on him, though.

“There’s my favorite model,” you greeted him into your studio, “How we doin’ today, pretty?”

“We would do fucking great if someone didn’t forget the Cartier pieces,” Minho shot death glares to his assistant by the door, “You like the styling at least?”

“Give the man a break. You look fantastic,” you reassured him and grabbed your camera, “Ready to begin?”

Poof. On cue. Minho’s entire personality changed into whatever you wanted it to be every time he walked in front of your lens. You wanted dreamy? You got it. You wanted a player? You got it. You wanted an unhinged serial killer? You got it, got it, got it.

“Show me your side profile again?” you shot five frames back to back, “Fucking gorgeous.”

What you absolutely loved about working with Minho was what a goddamn exhibitionist he was, and unapologetically so. You never had to indulge in camera foreplay with him because he was just always in the mood. Every time you had a shoot together, not only was he clearly into it, but it was almost like he was striking these bold-ass poses on purpose to seduce you, manspreading, excessive use of his tongue and lips, literally feeling himself as if to say ‘You wanna hit this, don’t you?’, taunting you without a single word. You knew why that was, of course.

Minho fished for praise like the attention whore he was every chance he got, and to his absolute pleasure, you were never stingy with it.

“Thank you, everyone, for your hard work,” you wrapped up the shoot and addressed the set, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone with my model. I’ll do a few more shots for my portfolio now that I have him cornered.”

It was standard practice at this point. Minho never said no to having extra photographs taken by you on the condition that you provided him with the digital copies right afterwards. The set was cleared momentarily, and you looked Minho up and down, grinning to yourself thinking about the alleged concept you concocted.

“Shall we do a little exercise? So that you can get in the zone,” you changed the memory card of your camera, “What turns you on, pretty?”

“The question is pretty redundant, don’t you think?” he sprawled on the leather tufted chair he was posing on moments ago, “Are you asking on purpose to hear it out loud?”

“Hear what out loud?”

“That it’s you that turns me on,” he pressed two fingers on his right temple, “I can’t stay soft when I have a shoot with you, and I think you know.”

“Are you sure it’s me because I can bet money it’s the compliments.”

“What if it’s you showering me with compliments?”

You squinted your eyes, thinking about how Minho had this compulsive need to have the last word. You walked towards him and lowered your body to be at his eye level.

“Why do you like hearing how gorgeous you are so much?”

“You know you like it when I hardcore simp over you. You’re no better than me,” he mockingly chuckled, “Shall we do a little exercise?”

He suddenly sat up in his seat and brought his face millimeters away from yours. He was so close, you could practically feel his lips on you.

“You’re the sexiest fucking woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, and you get me weak as fuck in the knees,” he spoke in a voice at least one and a half octaves lower, “Everybody knows how bad I wanna fuck you.”

“Do they?” you sneered with an amused expression on your face.

“Yes, because I tell them.”

“You actually tell people that you want to fuck me.”

“No, I tell them I want to blow your back out so fucking hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

This was way past your usual back-and-forth at this point, and you were goddamn perjuring yourself if you claimed you weren’t aroused even in the slightest. A part of you absolutely wanted to close the microscopic distance between you, but the other well-versed-in-Minhoism part of you got the sickest pleasure from not giving him what he wanted and was dying to see how far he was willing to take it.

“Has anyone ever told you you might be giving too much credit to yourself?”

“Free trial,” he reclined back in his seat, exhibiting the outline of what you could be sitting on like a badly wrapped present, “If you’re not satisfied, 200% money back guarantee, no questions asked.”

You snorted in amusement and went back to your camera, changing the setting to monochrome and zooming in on his eyes.

“If you give me what I want, I’ll take you up on your offer.”

That was the beauty of macro lenses. If you zoomed close enough, you could see the unspoken words flash in someone’s eyes, and Minho’s were currently screaming ‘No fucking way’ even though his façade was perfectly intact.

“Name your price,” he smugly demanded instead.

You peeled your eyes off your viewfinder and looked directly into his eyes.

“I want to shoot nudes of you.”

He was surprised, but not because of the shock value. He just thought you would throw something much harder at him.

“That’s nothing.”

“While you’re masturbating.”

Now he was contemplating. Stripping was one thing—he modeled for boudoir photographers from time to time himself, but even though Minho was infinitely comfortable with his sexuality, masturbating without knowing where these photos could end up at…

But it was you for fuck’s sake.

“Do you guarantee you’re not going to make a profit off of these without my knowledge?”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’ll sleep with me?”

“No.”

You pushed a nearby leather armchair next to the camera and assumed the exact same position as him. You looked like mirror images of each other.

“I’ll fuck you,” you declared as if you were challenging him.

The hesitation evanesced as quickly as it came, and Minho returned to his insufferably smug self in a matter of seconds.

“Then give me something to work with, baby.”

“You want magazines or something?”

“No, I want you.”

You burst out laughing, more hysterically than out of amusement. This guy could insist.

“You can’t touch me just yet.”

“I know,” he acknowledged, “but whatever you want me to remove, you’ll also take it off.”

Your eyes briefly traveled on his face, trying to figure out what kind of a game he was after. If it was Lee Minho, shortcuts were out of the question unless he was the one taking them.

Well… Whatever.

“Fine,” you accepted his proposal, and the battle began in earnest.

You took off your shoes, and so did he. You took off your watch, and so did he. You took off your top, and so did he.

And you were now 1-0 ahead because you had a bra on whereas his fucking sculpted-in-the-Renaissance of a torso was all bare, ready to be eyefucked by you.

“You should go on one of those sexiest men alive lists. It’s annoying how hot you are,” you went on aggressive offense, “It’s like somebody photoshopped you.”

Minho didn’t say anything and just grinned at you. You grinned back while unbuttoning your jeans. He got rid of his pants with you.

When you discarded your underwear, however, all his arrogance was erased from his face. He was staring at your pussy like a virgin seeing a naked girl for the first time.

“Do you like it?”

“I knew it was pretty, but I didn’t know how much,” he thickly swallowed.

You opened your legs wider apart, putting your slick folds on perfect display for him. Minho had no control over how he was reacting to you, audibly grunting at the delicious sight.

“See how wet?” you spread your labia to give him a better view, “It’s because of you.”

“I get that a lot,” he flashed a shit-eating grin, then channeled all his attention to your core again, “I think my tongue and your cunt might be a perfect match made in hell.”

“Your underwear,” you urged him to follow through, “Take it off.”

You had witnessed Minho sporting a hard on in front of your camera like it was part of his styling several times before, but seeing in the flesh?

Fucking priceless.

“Spread your thighs for me,” you demanded, naïvely thinking he would oblige without a hiccup.

“I will if you come closer.”

“I will if you lay down on the floor.”

It was a battle, and Minho knew he had a lot more to lose compared to you. Even though he was being a pain in the ass, he had no choice but to do as asked, but you were at least playing fair. Once he held up his end of the bargain, you set up your camera to take shots every eight seconds, then walked to him.

“You’re not close enough,” he complained like a kid being denied a shiny toy, “I want to feel your warmth next to me.”

“Then no peeking. Close your eyes,” you took off your bra and threw it on his face, crawling closer to him like a preying tigress right after, “I’m right beside you. Now touch yourself.”

Minho wrapped his fingers around his delicious girth, languidly stroking himself to full hardness with no rush whatsoever like he was in his bed on a lazy Sunday morning.

“Bring your pussy close to my face,” he quietly pleaded, “I swear I’m not gonna do anything. I just wanna feel it close.”

You didn’t think much honestly. Within two seconds, you were straddling his face, your thighs on either side of him, and if your reflexes hadn’t kicked in, Minho’s sudden attempt to steal a lick was indeed going to be successful.

“Shh, behave,” you rebuked him and squeezed his face between your fingers, “You swore.”

Eyes still closed, he bit into his mischievous smile, having infinite amounts of fun. So what if he did? Were you that gullible to believe everybody that pinky promised you?

“Come on, at least make it drip on my face.”

“Less talking, more jerking.”

You urged him, but unbeknownst to Minho you were doing the same thing. You licked your fingers and started rubbing your pussy on his face, close enough to make him go insane because of the wet sounds, but far enough that he couldn’t try anything again. All you could think about was how it would be the hottest fucking thing in the world if you squirted all over his gorgeous features right about now.

“I can hear how wet you are. I can smell it,” he hissed out of sheer lust, “You want me, too. You want me bad.”

“Yes, I do. Who wouldn’t want you?” you responded shamelessly, “Look at you, a fucking sex god in the flesh.”

Minho moaned so loudly hearing your words that you knew you got him where you wanted him. Right in the palm of your hand, literally and figuratively.

“Say it again,” he begged, “Again.”

You had never seen him this fucking desperate before, and it was more satisfying than the best porn out there. You lowered your body and breathily spoke into his ear.

“You’re a sex god, Minho.”

“Then worship me.”

You lay down beside him and started running your hand all over his torso, his firm skin under your fingertips forcing more slick to ooze out of you.

“Your body is fucking unreal,” you uttered almost like a moan, “You make me wanna do really nasty things to you.”

“Who’s holding you back?” he squeezed his cock tighter, and drops of precum began pooling around his slit, “I’m available for your personal use anytime you want.”

“I can start by sitting on your pretty face maybe. Ease you into it,” you placed a ghost kiss on his forehead.

“If you let me creampie you first, it’ll be a treat to watch me get messy on your cunt later on.”

His words literally took your breath away, and Minho was simply in love with how much power he had over you without doing anything. This was the moment to land the killshot.

“I wanna have the nastiest fucking sex of my life with you. Sweat, spit, cum everywhere,” he rubbed his flushed cock faster, “Say yes. Say yes and I’ll blow your fucking mind.”

You could watch Minho jerk off to you for hours if he could last, but you had negative willpower left to resist the raging urge to fuck him like your life depended on it. You wanted him like you’d never wanted anything else in your life.

And he knew.

You pressed your lips on the corner of his mouth for a long while, then whispered the answer he was dying to hear.

“Yes.”

He suddenly snapped his eyes open and immediately grabbed your waist, pulling you close to make you straddle him.

“Sit on it, gorgeous. Take all of it.”

It didn’t matter how wet you were. Minho’s girth was so thick that you were struggling to even push the tip in, and all his self-control was working at full capacity not to cum to this right then and there.

“Shh, you can take it, baby. I know you can,” he soothed you, “I’ll mold your pussy for myself just right.”

He finally broke through. You were so tight around him that he had to move extra slow inside you until he bottomed out, otherwise he really was going to explode. All of you right in front of him to feel, and he didn’t know where to grope you first. His hands eventually landed on your ass and gave your cheeks a firm squeeze.

“Bad move to play mind games with me,” he maniacally smiled, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you, now we’re gonna have to fuck every time we see each other. I don’t give a shit if we’re in public or not.”

When that first thrust hit, you sharply inhaled and closed your eyes. It felt too full inside you.

“See what you’ve been missing out on?” he derided, arrogance dripping from every single one of his words, “I want all your holes, one for each meal of the day. I’ll be damned if I ever skip breakfast again.”

“You’re gonna give me yours in return I presume?” you pressed your hands on his chest.

“Anything you want is yours. Just fuck me.”

You obscenely licked all over your palm and cupped his balls behind you. They were so tightened already, and the frenzied moans Minho let out when you caressed him were just everything you could ask for.

“So full, you’re dying to unload inside me, aren’t you?” you jeered contently, “Go on, cream my pussy so I can finally have you make out with it.”

“With absolute pleasure,” he held onto your waist tighter, “Not gonna lie, eating my cum out of your cunt has been the number two fantasy of mine for the longest time.”

“What’s the number one?”

You lost your balance when he abruptly pulled your body down. His face was right in front of yours, begging to be revered with as many kisses as you could offer him.

“To eat it out of your ass,” he sighed right before crashlanding on your lips.

Minho’s appetite knew no bounds. If he kissed you long enough, you could cum to that alone. His thrusts went berserk as he ran his hands all over your back, his mouth refusing to detach from yours, and you eventually felt something erupt inside you. Warm. Pleasantly sticky. Filling you up to the brim.

He didn’t even wait to gather his wits. You found yourself on your back with one hasty turn, and before you could register what was happening, you saw Minho between your legs.

“Forcefeed me,” he squeezed your thighs so hard there would surely be Minho-shaped bruises on your skin the next day, “Keep my face down. Don’t let me breathe.”

“Eat till you’re full,” you pressed his face closer, “Like a hardcore fucking simp would.”

He immediately started ravaging your pussy as instructed. The feeling was so intense that you were about to lose your mind, and it was worse because you could hear the shutter sounds recording the way you were absolutely disheveling the Lee Minho’s million-dollar face, his entire mouth and chin soaked with your slick.

If these frames ever went public, his crazed fans would actually kill you, and it was the weirdest fucking turn on you were experiencing.

“Did you know I have a picture of you on my sun visor next to a vibrator?” you confessed while riding his face, “You’re so fucking pretty I can’t stop masturbating to you even in the middle of traffic.”

You were absolutely murdering him with your words. His moans in your pussy were pathetically loud as if he was the one getting his dick sucked. This was like all of Minho’s most violent wet dreams come true, and he didn’t give a shit if he overdosed on desire tonight. He would die like a fucking rockstar.

“Like that. Fuck, just like that! Spit on it,” you gritted your teeth, “God, nobody does it like you.”

It was as though you wanted him to wreck you. Every word you uttered that even remotely resembled praise was bringing out the absolute worst in Minho. He was eating your pussy like an out-of-control animal in heat, growling into you and smacking his lips to make the wettest fucking sounds ever.

You weren’t wet—you were fucking flooding his face, so much so that it should have been considered waterboarding. He wasn’t moaning—he was grunting into you as if he was mad, like a full on rampage. You had never had your pussy ravished like this before. Your legs were uncontrollably shaking. You were practically screaming, but you’d run out of fucks to give as to who heard it. You had Lee fucking Minho eating your soul out of you like a goddamn dementor—you wanted them to hear it and die a painful death because of jealousy for all you cared.

When you started clenching too much, Minho got alerted to how close you were, which prompted him to immediately stop and ram his fully hard cock into you. You forgot everything you had in your vocabulary. All you could moan was his name over and over and over again, and it was the perfect opportunity for Minho to take advantage of.

“Who gets this pussy dripping wet?”

“Minho…”

“Who gets to eat your creampied cunt?”

“Ah, Minho…”

“Who’s fucking you this good, baby?”

“Minho…”

“Who’s the only god you worship?”

“Minho. Minho. MINHO!!!”

Who the fuck would be able to resist cumming when you were screaming your lungs out in hellfire level pleasure anyway? Sure as fuck not Minho. Your own orgasm hit you so hard that dragged-out moans kept spilling from your lips. He slowed his pace down thinking he was making you uncomfortable, however…

“NO!” you grabbed his waist in panic, “Keep… Just keep… don’t stop y—”

“Are you still cumming?”

You fervently nodded while making stupidly incoherent sounds. Your entire body was shaking like you were having a seizure, and needless to say, Minho lived for that shit.

“Fucked so good, can’t let go just yet,” he let out a teasing laugh and held you in his arms, “Shh, shh, shh I got you. Hold on to me.”

He fucked you through your orgasm with his lips on yours, but it felt unnecessarily intimate. When you were finally done, you could feel your heart beating in your pussy, and the soreness in your legs became way too perceptible all of a sudden.

“I think we make a fantastic pair,” Minho brushed the damp strings of hair away from your face, “I want a copy of that entire memory card.”

“Not this time, pretty,” you softly bit into his lips and diabolically smiled, “You either see this pussy in the flesh, or you don’t see it at all.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Battle of wits with the singular tolerable little shit. Pull up.

✉ Enjoyed this? It would be cool of you to reblog so that my work can reach more people.

#lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x y/n #lee know x you #lee know scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x you #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz smut #skz x reader #skz x y/n #skz x you #skz scenarios #skz imagines

222 notes · View notes

not-neverland06 · 1 day

Text

How About a Nuke?

Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII

Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: @weakling-grace did some fanart for the series that I absolutely adore! And I want you all to look at it. It’s on her blog, or reposted on mine under the tag How about a nuke? Summary: The wound’s infected. It shouldn’t be, but here you are anyway, barely holding on to life. You make it as far as you can and then it’s up to him to decide whether you get to live or die.

“Have I told you yet that you are the most gorgeous woman in this room?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried.

“Only about a dozen times.” His hand reaches for yours across the table and you take it eagerly, linking your fingers together and enjoying the way his hazel eyes linger on yours. You could get lost in them, as cliche as it sounds. You and about every other woman in the world fell in love when you first saw those smiling eyes on the silver screen.

“I’ll just have to tell you a dozen more.”

God, you would swoon if you could. But, unfortunately, you are in the middle of a very nice restaurant and you’re sure they wouldn’t enjoy your fainting spell. It’s not like you could help it, he was so effortlessly charming, everything he said with that rasping accent of his sounded like music to you.

Your smile slipped slightly when you caught two women staring at you both. They weren’t even trying to hide it, pointing and whispering behind their hands. You clenched your jaw, trying your best not to let the anger show on your face. But he caught it anyway.

Cooper dropped your hand and tucked his back in his lap. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, they caught his eye and gasped, stopping their cruel whispers. You opened your mouth to try and make him feel better but he interrupted you, “Hey-”

“I told you this was gonna happen sweetheart.” You hated how sad he sounded, how resigned he was to his new place in life. It was no secret that most of your fellow actors despised him now just because he did a few ad campaigns for Vault-Tec. But that didn’t mean the rest of the world did. There were still plenty of people who adored Cooper and asked for his autograph.

Granted, those ladies clearly weren’t fans, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got spotted together in public and rumors started up again. You didn’t care what that meant about future roles. “I want to be with you, Coop, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over again.” You sighed and finally drew your hand back to yourself, he tracked the movement like a hawk.

“If this is too much,” you forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat and put on a stilted smile. “If being with me in the public eye is too much then maybe we should-”

“Enough,” he reached back over and forced his hand into yours. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” He stopped you before you could interrupt him, giving you a knowing smile. “I know that you don’t care what being around me does to your career, but I do. There’s no reason for the both of us to be washed up celebrities.”

“Hey, you’re not washed up, plenty of people still want to see you on the silver screen.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and picking up his fork, “Let’s just enjoy our meal, sweetheart.”

“Pick up the pace! I’m not gonna wait for you forever, sweetheart.”

You glared at him and leaned on a tree for support. You’re not sure what’s going on. You feel hot under your skin but also like you’re freezing, you’d thrown up twice during night watch and you’re about five seconds away from keeling over.

Your sweaty palm slips against the bark and you go sliding over. You hear his boots stomping through the grass before they stop in front of you. Rough hands steady your shoulders and shove you upright again. His eyes rove across your face, the muscles above his eyes turning down in concern.

“Shit, you look like,” he trailed off, “well, to be perfectly honest you look like shit.”

You laughed but it came out strangled and he flinched back in disgust when you started coughing. “Good to know you’re still a gentleman, Cooper.”

He sighed and led you over to a rotted log. You threw yourself down on it, wincing as it jarred your sensitive stomach. The gash was aching a lot more than it should.

When you’d been shot, you could barely even feel it by this point. Now the wound was burning, itching so bad you just wanted to rip the stitches out with your bare hands. Your head rolls back and you clench your eyes shut as another wave of nausea goes through you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, rattling like a hummingbird in a cage.

He kneels in front of you and reaches for your shirt. You lean back on your hands to give him better access. “Stimpak should have worked by now,” he mutters. He pulls your shirt higher up on your abdomen and hisses through his teeth.

“What is it?” Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth and the words come out garbled.

“Shit!” He yanks your shirt down and reaches for your bag, digging through it until he finds another one of the Stimpaks you’d taken.

You’d be more panicked if your head wasn’t floating right now. “What is it?” He doesn’t answer you, he hovers the injector over his mouth and lets the medicine shoot in. You wince when he immediately turns to spit it into the grass.

He wipes the back of his mouth and chuckles. “Should’ve fucking known,” he mutters. He goes through the rest of the supplies you’d grabbed and starts chucking them further into the forest.

You’re getting pissed off now. Pissed off and worried, you just needed him to talk to you, tell you what’s going on. “Cooper!” You snap, hand clutched over the burning wound on your stomach. He sighs and looks up at you. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Fakes,” he says, mouth set in a firm line and eyes hard against your worried gaze. “See, darlin’, some people like the men we met last night hand out fake supplies.” If you weren’t so worried you’d be mad about how condescending he sounds.

“They take empty injectors and fill ‘em with chems to keep people sick and coming back to them. It’s a steady income,” he says, like it’s a respectable career. “Your wound is infected, probably only worsened by whatever chem they put in the Stimpak I stuck you with.”

Your eyes are wide with horror. You can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve essentially been poisoned and are probably experiencing sepsis right now. Or that people were capable of being so cruel and profited off of it. He pulls your canteen out of your bag and unscrews the cap. He holds the water up to your nose, “Sniff.” You do and he waves his hand, prompting you to tell him what exactly you smelled.

“Smells like metal,” you shrug, not sure what that means.

“Infected and you’ve got rad poisoning.” At your confused glance he continues, “Water’s not purified either, sweetheart. Whatever you got is about to get a hundred times worse.” When he turns his back to put the water back in your bag you finally risk a glance down at your stomach.

You wished you hadn’t because you’re immediately bending over to throw up what was left of your rations. The skin has swelled over the stitches, practically swallowing the black thread. The place the knife went in is red and puckered, pus forming at the corners. The sides of your stomach have an odd green tint that you’re trying not to think about too hard, most likely a side effect of whatever chem you’d been dosed with.

He presses the canteen into your hand and you shake your head from where it is between your knees. “Can’t, radiation.”

He laughs, the sound unkind, “It’s a bit late for that, honey.” You snatch the water out of his hand and gulp down as much as you can stomach. It’s not much, the taste of the water is too metallic and bitter for you. “The place we’re going, they’ve got medicine. We get you there and I’m sure I can work something out with them.”

You know what that really means. He’ll get paid for his bounty and then he’ll get what he wants, whether they offer it freely or not. “If I get there,” you mutter, still holding back the rest of your breakfast.

“Enough,” he snaps. His hand wraps around your elbow and he yanks you to your feet. “We need to get a move on, power through.” If you had the strength, you’d slap him again.

“Here you go,” he placed a bowl down on the coffee table, steam still wisping over the edge. He sat down beside you on your couch and brushed some hair away from your face and you leaned into the warmth of his palm. You were freezing but he seemed to think you were burning up.

“Did you make me soup?” Your voice is groggy with sleep. He helps you into a sitting position and hands you the bowl.

“No,” he laughs a little and leans back against the cushions, arm spreading out behind you and pulling you into him. “But I warmed it up for you.”

“Cooper,” you whisper.

“Get a move on!” He shouts from a couple yards ahead. “You either move your ass or I’ll leave you here, because I’m sure as shit not carrying you.”

Oh shit.

Hallucinating is never a good sign. You would swear on everything above that you were just on your couch with Cooper. You could still feel the warmth of the bowl in your hands, the old plush fabric of your couch on your cheeks.

You swallowed down bile and did your best to catch up to him. You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the fog over your eyes, but it didn’t help much. It took you a minute to realize it was from the sweat dripping down your brow and burning against your retinas that was causing the problem.

You glanced around, surprised to find yourself surrounded by sand. Weren’t you just in the forest? You lifted a shaking hand to try and get rid of the glare of the sun. He was walking closer to you now, keeping a keener eye on you. You trip over your own feet for the inth time and try to keep pushing yourself.

“Any chance we could dim those?” You squint and point up to the lights hanging above the set and one of the PA’s runs off to fulfill your request. You shake your boots out, tired of all the sand that’s been getting in them. You understand you’re meant to be chasing an outlaw through the “Wild West” but this is getting ridiculous.

You’ve done about a hundred retakes of this scene, you’re not sure when the director is going to admit defeat but you hope it’s soon. You don’t know why the studio is even bothering to do cowboy stuff anymore. Everyone knows since Coop was forced out of the industry no one’s wanted to see these types of movies.

The actor you’re working with this time is a dick. He’s commanding and rude, he’s got no sense of boundaries either. Or a nose.

What the fuck?

He stands over top of you and you finally realize that you’ve collapsed into the sand. You let your head fall back and rub your forehead. One second you’re on a set and the next you’re in the Wastelands at the end of the world. You’re struggling to remember which version of reality is real and which isn’t.

“I mean it,” he threatens, “I ain’t carrying you.” Your hand flops uselessly to your side, muscles fatigued and the burning in your gut sucking the energy out of you. The only part of yourself you’re physically aware of is the stab, you can’t feel anything else. You can’t twitch your toes or wiggle your fingers, everything is off kilter. “Alright then,” he leans down and yanks your arm over his shoulder.

Before you’re processing what’s happening the world is being tilted on its axis and you’re being hauled to your feet. You don’t remember much about traveling through the sands. Everything is one long blur of red and orange. When the air in front of you starts to get wavy your eyes lose focus and you black out.

She nearly made it. They’re only about an hour away from this compound he’s been trying to get her to. He sighs, looking down at her prone form in the sand. There’s sweat beading along her forehead, her lips are cracked and split and her face has an unusual tint to it that can’t mean anything healthy.

He squats down next to her and debates how he wants to go about this. The wound on her stomach has only gotten worse since they started walking, it’s just looking angrier and angrier. With how infected it is, it’s possible that even a stimpak might not help her now.

He could leave her here, get the bounty, and go on his merry way. He could shoot her, put her out of her misery and leave. Or he could throw her over his shoulder and walk the last hour to the compound, hoping that whatever they have there will help. No matter what choice he makes, it’s her life in his hands.

His hand drifts forward, brushing the hair off her cheek and lingering on the soft skin there. He sighs before scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder, she whines, her wound rubbing against his shoulder and probably causing her a heap of pain. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, though, as long as she was feeling something that was a good sign.

“Nearly there, sweetheart,”; he muttered. He tuned into her shallow breathing, the long pauses before her next breath and let that be what keeps him going. She better not fucking die on him. He grunts, shifting her higher up on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her legs.

He could feel how hot she was through each layer of their clothing. This was more than just the sun, she seemed like she was about to combust. “Cooper,” she whimpers. He frowns, she’s been muttering to herself since they left the forest. Talking about things that weren’t possible.

He’s seen it before, with infection or rad poisoning, the hallucinations start pretty early. Only problem is, he’s never met anyone who lasted as long as her. She should have been dead hours ago. He has no idea what’s keeping her going, but she better fucking hold onto it.

You laughed, your dress swirling around your legs like a blooming red flower as he spun you through the room. His hand wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his chest. You smiled at him and he reached up to brush the hair out of your face.

Sinatra’s smooth voice cracked and then began to stutter. You laughed again but Cooper just rolled his eyes and walked over to fix the record. You smoothed out your dress and sat down on his couch, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the table.

You took a sip, hoping for some liquid courage, and regretted it. You’d momentarily forgotten your distaste for alcohol. You tried to fight the tickle in your throat but failed, you probably ruined your lipstick with how hard you started to cough.

He walked over to you and chuckled, taking his glass from your hands and stealing a swig. “Can’t handle your liquor, honey?”

“I can,” you wiped your mouth and gave him a playful glare. “That just tastes absolutely disgusting.” He smiled and took a seat beside you, arm draped behind you. He crossed a leg over his knee and titled himself to face you. You found yourself taking a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the question you were going to ask.

“Everything alright?”

You glanced down at your dress and fiddled with the hem of it. “I know the divorce was finalized a few days ago,” Cooper looked away from you, his face hardening, and reached forward to place his glass back on the table. Your heart leapt into your throat at the way he slammed it down. Maybe this was a mistake.

You know when Barb came over to pick up Janey yesterday they’d gotten into a fight. You didn’t know what exactly it was they fought about, you’re pretty sure it had to do with you. But it didn’t truly matter. She always found a way to rile him up. You’d been hoping that coming by tonight might make him feel a little better, but he still seemed to have a residual tenseness to him.

Bringing the divorce up after one of their fights isn’t smart. But you need to talk about this and he’s been avoiding the conversation for a while now.

He ran a hand down his face and sighed, “What about it?”

“I was just wondering what that means for us?”

He scoffed and glanced over at you. The look he’s giving you, you’re certain the fight was about you now. He’s never looked this angry with you, “For us?” You nodded and he shook his head, standing up and heading towards his room. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes burning as he slammed the door to his room without another word. You let your head fall into your hands and took a few deep breaths. You knew you shouldn’t have asked that.

“That was a mistake,” you muttered.

“The hell are you telling yourself back there?” Your eyes peeled open and you frowned, you seemed to be looking at something that looked a hell of a lot like Cooper’s backside. You tilted your head to the side to find the world upside down and something stabbing repeatedly in your stomach.

You clawed your way up Cooper’s jacket, shakily holding yourself up so you could stare down at him. “Settle,” he warns, like you’re a damn horse.

“Put me down,” you mutter, weakly kicking out your feet and trying to get off of him. He just shakes his head and shoves you back down. You let him, not having much fight left in you anyway.

“Just,” he pauses, “keep dreamin’,” the words seem to pain him and you wonder why. You don’t linger on it long, letting your head hang against his back before the world is going dark again.

She keeps muttering Cooper in her sleep. He knows what she’s thinking about. Their old times together, when everything was just dandy and the world was as sweet as peaches. Well, he wasn’t some saint back then neither. He had his own problems, vices, same as any man.

Only difference between then and now is that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Doesn’t have to worry about the public’s opinion or how his job will be affected if he speaks his mind. Cooper’s no better than the Ghoul.

He sighs, barely even believing himself. She whimpers in her sleep, the noise strangled and pained. He squeezes her leg, barely even noticing the action, in an attempt to bring some minute form of comfort. She never should have dived in front of that blade, it was stupid of her.

Course, she couldn’t have known that he would have healed, it’s not like he ever told her that. But she shouldn’t have risked it anyway, he wasn’t worth her dying for.

He can see a large building about a mile ahead as he crests the ridge of the dune he’s walking on. The compound, nearly there. “Hold on,” he’s not sure who he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter. She’s made it this far, she’ll make it a few more minutes.

“Stop right there!” Only one armed guard comes out from behind the gate of the compound. He scoffs, fucking amateurs. He drops her to the ground at his feet with as much care as he can, which isn’t a lot. Slowly, he raises his hands as the guard approaches, the tip of his rifle pressing into the hardened skin of his chest. “State your business.”

Well, someone liked making themself feel important, he was gonna have a field day beating this boy black and blue. For now, he simply smiled at him, unbothered by the gun. “I’ve got a bounty to deliver.”

“Alright, hand it over.” He reached into his pockets and the boy’s trigger finger twitched dangerously. He pulled out the only thing they’d wanted from the body, dog tags, and held them out for the boy to take. He darted forward, trying to snatch them but he yanked them out of the guard’s grip.

He lunged, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the kid’s hands. He tucked the tags back in his pocket and pointed the barrel into the boy’s chest. His face blanched and he held up his shaky hands. “Not so big now, are you?” He kept the gun trained on him and leaned down to scoop her back up.

She was just cognizant enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder, keeping herself steady. “My friend here needs help. So help me boy, I swear if you fight me, I’ll slaughter everyone in that fucking place and just take what I want.”

He poked the gun into the boy’s chest and he jumped away from him with a frightened little whimper. With a grin, he bullied him into unlocking the gate and leading the both of them inside.

“Please-”

“Shut the fuck up and get me inside.” It didn’t take long, the kid seemed to be the only guard they had patrolling right now. He led the pair inside the compound and then shoved them inside a room.

“Here, you can clean her up here.” Before he could say anything the boy was running down the hall and out of sight. He figured they didn’t have long before the rest of the compound was alerted to what was going on.

He knew enough about the place to know they had a water purifier set up in the back and some odd little ditty they’d created to use water to generate power. Having a radiated ocean behind them was a lot more convenient than Cooper ever would have thought.

“Alright,” he propped her up on the bed and threw the boy’s rifle to the side. “Wake up, darling,” her eyelashes fluttered but she didn’t move. He used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to her clammy head. Still burning up. He cracked his hand across her cheek, chuckling at the way her eyes flew open.

“Come on,” he hoisted her up and shoved her towards the bathroom in the room. There were holes in the wall, the faucet was really a metal can with holes poked in it, but it was running water. Who was he to complain? He propped her up against the sink and cranked the odd lever in the wall. There was a loud rattling sound before water came pouring out of the rusted can. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Barely a minute later he heard a loud crash and the sound of porcelain cracking. He ran back into the bathroom and found her half collapsed against the shower wall. What was left of the decrepit sink was broken on the ground, only the faucet sticking out of the wall. He sighed and looked over at her.

“I fell,” she muttered, a million little cuts bleeding on her arms.

He sighed and tugged his hat and gloves off, tossing them onto the bed outside. He came back in, pulling her away from the shower and straightening her up. She clung onto him, broken nails digging dully into his scarred arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he tugged her shirt up, her arms slipping limply out of it.

Her wound was practically festered by now, turning a color that he knew meant she didn’t have much time to waste. He undid the button of her pants and knelt down, hands dragging down her legs and pulling her pants with them. She stepped out, hands braced on his shoulders and tripped slightly. He grabbed her thighs, steadying her and stood back up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from falling and leading her into the shower.

She sighed as the tepid water hit her back and he grimaced at the brown water pouring off of her. Maybe he should have let her clean up in that lake. He didn’t do much to help her as she cleaned herself up, mainly just stood there and let her hold onto him so she didn’t hurt herself further.

He cupped the back of her neck and helped her tilt her head back to clean out the rest of her hair. It was odd, being this close to her. Less because of how stark naked she was, and more because of just how vulnerable she was being. Like a deer rolling over and presenting its neck to a wolf. He could do anything to her, and she just let him hold her like this.

She leaned forward, clearly tired after moving around so much. Her head fell into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. She sighed, “I love you, Cooper.”

He flinched, knowing this was just a part of her delirium. Having running water for once was probably just confusing her more, making her think she was right back home. He leaned forward, lips pressed against her forehead and brushing some hair back. “No you don’t, darling.”

There was a knock on the door and he was quick to draw his gun. The door opened and a middle aged woman flanked by two guards stood smiling at him. She took in the gun in his hand but seemed unbothered by it or the threat he posed. “I hear you two need some help.”

“Mhm,” he glanced at the guards behind her but they didn’t seem particularly interested in reaching for their weapons. The woman took her in from where she lay on the bed, panting and sounding like she was struggling to get her breaths in. “I have a bounty to turn in, figured part of my payment could be you giving us a Stimpak. Then, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She laughed and took a step further into the room. He stood up now, gun pointed towards her slightly. She ignored him and took a peek at the festering wound. “She’ll need a lot more than a Stimpak. We can clean her up, don’t worry.” He didn’t get a chance to argue before the guards were coming in. He stepped out of the way as they grabbed you by the arms and legs, hauling you out of the room.

He made to follow them but the woman placed a hand on his chest. “Sylvie, I run the compound. The bounty?”

He sighed and fished the dog tags out of his pocket, passing them to her. He glanced out the door, trying to track the path they took you down. “She’ll be fine, trust me.”

He laughed and glanced over at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he says the title with a lack of respect that makes her brows furrow in irritation, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to trust anyone. No matter how pretty their promises are.”

She gave him a long look before smiling and motioning back towards the hall. “Follow me and we’ll go find her.”

They had a decent set up here. Not as nice as the vaults, clearly, but pretty good for surface dwellers. A decent supply of meds and rations, running water. Everything in the building might be run down or covered in mildew, with cracks in the wall, but it was better than the hovels he’d camped out in.

They’ve got her set up on cot, a bag of Radaway hooked up to her arm and her hair braided away from her face. They had to cut out the stitches he’d sewed and open the wound back up to flush it out. She’d been patched back up and while the skin still looked irritated it seemed to be doing a lot better than before.

He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing and she’d finally stopped wheezing on every inhale. He figured another hour here and they could get the fuck out. These people were starting to bother him. Every half hour or so they would come in to check on her, the women would spray some water on her face and mutter something before running back out.

He seemed to scare them, enjoying the way they would avoid meeting his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to keep them away from her. Their insistence should’ve had alarm bells going off in his head, but he was already preoccupied worrying about her. He didn’t even notice when Slyvie came to stand beside him.

“She’ll be alright,” she tried to place a hand on his shoulder but the look he shot her had her stopping short. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and tucked her hands back behind her back. He gave her another long look before going back to staring at the girl on the bed.

“We have a place for her here, if you’re interested.”

He scoffed, “Room for us, huh?” He let himself picture it for a moment. He wouldn’t fucking stay, of course, he couldn’t. There’s no way, after two hundred years of wandering, that he could be locked down to one decaying old building. Showers or no. But he could always come by to visit her, stay a few nights and then leave again.

That’s assuming she’d even want him to visit. Didn’t matter, he’d come anyway. But, he couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t live that life even if it would be temporary. It just wasn’t in him. He stayed stagnant for too long and two hundred years of bloodshed and loss would drive him insane.

Sylvie shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. We have room for her, you have to understand, without a steady supply of Radaway we can’t risk having a ghoul here.” She moved towards her and brushed some hair out of her face, “Think about it.” She walked out and he stared blankly at the cot.

She shifted on the bed, face pained and mumbling something under her breath. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. “Coop? What’s,” she trailed off, struggling to sit up and glancing around the room they were in. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, we’re at the compound.”

She rubbed her forehead and glared at him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

He swatted her leg and she recoiled, “No, smartass. Just relax, we’ll be out of here soon.” She nodded and leaned back against the pillows they’d given her. It was odd, finally seeing her clean again. He could see clearly just how tired she looked. It was in her eyes, mainly, a weariness towards the world that left her exhausted.

He’s surprised she’s even made it this far without giving up. She’d been dealt some shit luck, but he supposed it was better she be exposed to how cruel the world was as quickly as possible. She groaned and her head flopped forward.

“What’s wrong with you now?”

“God,” she muttered, turning her face away from him and shaking her head. He huffed and sat up straight, glaring at the side of her face.

“Talk,” he demanded, not in the mood for games.

“I meant it,” she sounded pained, like the words had to be forced out. “I mean, I hate that I meant it, but I did.”

He rolled his eyes, “Meant what? You’re gonna have to be a little clearer than that, sweetheart.”

“What I said in the shower. I meant it. I haven’t stopped loving you, despite how much I want to. I don’t want to want you anymore, I don’t want that connection to the past to constantly be shoved down my throat.” She sighed and tugged at the braid they’d given her. “You’re cruel and mean and, fuck’s sake, you’ve shot me twice. But you’re also the only thing I’ve got left, and despite how much I want to, because trust me I do, I can’t let you go.”

He sighed and turned away from her. She was still tired, still a bit woozy from the fever. He could see the sweat on her forehead again and knew that whatever this was, was just drug induced. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her wanting him like this again.

Being around her already made him vulnerable enough. Whatever twisted connection he held to her now, would be nothing compared to letting her love him again. Two hundred years on his own and she thought she could just come barreling back into his life and everything would be lovely again?

No, that’s not how this world worked. Not anymore.

He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Get back to sleep, we’ll leave soon.”

She sighed and sank back against the pillows, shivering as she did so. “You’ll be here?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and turned away from him. He let himself admire her, taking in her relaxed features and soft expression. She reminded him so much of before. Before the world went to shit and before he turned into what he is now.

He could feel parts of him, the ones he’d buried a long time ago, come up around her. Twisted as they were, how he felt about her before still lingered somewhere within him. But he couldn’t afford the risk that they presented if he did let her back in. He wasn’t even sure she could fully handle him if he did.

She’d nearly died about five times, most of them because of him, and she’d been up here for such a short time. She’d be better off without him. He walked towards the door, the spurs of his boots clicking against the tile of the floor. He found Sylvie lurking a few halls down and whistled, getting her attention.

Sylvie turned to him with an expectant smile. “You got room?”

She nodded with an eager smile, “We do. And you’d be compensated, of course.” Before he could question what exactly she was paying him for she snapped her fingers and some guards approached. They handed him a bag that he quickly rifled through. Not only was there enough Radaway to last him at least a month, there was purified water and rations that would keep him going until the next bounty.

She’ll be better off here.

He tucked the bag away and smiled at Sylvie, “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”

She gave him a lecherous grin, “You as well,” she nodded and the guards escorted him to the gate. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he’d just want to go get her. At least now he didn’t have to constantly worry about saving her ass.

He was better off on his own. Always had been, always would be.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard #the ghoul

219 notes · View notes

angel5ofp0rn · 2 days

Text

pt. 8 😋

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

just a short lil chapter 🤭

John didn’t sleep at all.

Still, when the morning sun started to peek through the blinds, he got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen.

He couldn’t eat, but he knew he had to make sure you and the kids did.

After making eggs, bacon and toast, John sets the table and then heads upstairs to his your oldest child’s bedroom to wake him.

The sight of you sleeping in the twin bed with both children snuggled up to you made his heart ache.

Your tear-streaked cheeks and their blissfully unaware sleeping faces made John want to cry.

You woke slowly, rubbing your puffy eyes and lifting your head to see John in the doorway. You sigh.

“I, erm... Breakfast." John spoke softly. You nod, slowly rubbing your oldest’s back to wake him, telling him to get ready for school before he eats.

John watches for a moment as your oldest sleepily trudges to the washroom.

You scoop your sleepy youngest child up and walk past John, going downstairs to the kitchen without a word to him.

John knows there’s no point in trying to smooth things over just yet. Instead, he decides to get a shower in while you and the kids have breakfast together. Without him.

You try to smile and be happy around the kids, not wanting them to sense the tension between you and their father right now.

They seem to be oblivious to it all, thankfully.

As you playfully ruffle your oldest’s brown hair as he eats, you can't help but wonder if John's other son looks like him.

Like both of them.

Your children look just like John; surely his other child does too…

John joins the three of you in the kitchen after a while, but he doesn’t say anything to you. He doesn’t even look at you.

“Could you walk Gabe to the bus stop? It’ll be here in 5.” You ask suddenly, finally catching his eyes.

“Of course.” John nods curtly, taking the little green backpack from the back of one of the chairs. As he walks with your oldest, you send your youngest off to the playroom so you can chat with John privately.

You meet him by the front door, arms crossed, almost hugging yourself for comfort.

“What’re their names?” You ask bluntly.

John is caught a little off guard by your question, not expecting you to ask about his other family right now. He wasn’t expecting anything other than you kicking him out, really.

He studies your eyes for a moment, then nods as he responds.

"My son's name is Theo. His mother's name is Nadia."

You exhale a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The way he says “my son” so naturally makes your stomach drop.

"Show me a picture of him." Your voice is shaky.

"Of Theo?" John asks, surprised. At your nod, he takes his phone out of his pocket, finds a photo and hands his phone to you.

Your eyes study the photo of a ten year old holding up a lego creation that he presumably built himself.

He looked exactly how you pictured him to look; John’s brown hair, John’s blue eyes, John’s freckled nose.

You start to cry again.

John notices you crying, immediately wanting to be there to comfort you but he knows that he shouldn't make a move now, not when things are so tense between both of you. He stays put where he is, just watching you cry for a few moments before speaking."Is.... Is there anything else you want to know? I’ll tell you everything, love.”

"Do they know about us?” You ask, handing him his phone back with a sniffle. “About me, the kids...?”

John pauses for a moment before he responds. He feels like he needs to be honest with you about this; he's kept so much hidden for the last six years, but he doesn't want to keep anything else from you.

That being said, he knew his next few words might hurt to hear.

“They do… I show Theo photos of the kids every time I see ‘im.”

You wipe your eyes with your sleeve. "So you could tell them but not us?”

John has no words, no way to defend himself in this situation. There was no excuse for it either, he knew that. He just takes a breath in and out, then stays silent as he simply nods.

You sigh.

"What was your plan, John?" You wiped more tears. “To just keep both of your families from each other for the rest of your life?"

"No." John answers, his tone soft but clear. "I- I’ve always wanted to tell you. I just couldn't stand the thought of you hurting... I didn't want to lose you."

"And then you did lose me. And you still didn't say a fucking word."

John's expression was full of regret, but he knows that he can't change the past, no matter how much he wishes he could.

"I know that. I just- Christ, I don't want to lose you again. I couldn't have just let us get back together without solving the issue that ripped us apart on the first place, love. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

You didn't speak. You couldn't.

John sighs, rubbing his face and shaking his head slightly. "I'm sorry..." That's all he says because right now he feels as though any other words would hurt more than they would help. He wanted to speak, to say more, but he just couldn't bring himself to.

'..l want to meet them." You finally look up at him, meeting his eyes.

"... You want to meet them..?" John asks back in a soft, shaky voice. He can't help but be a little shocked by your response.

Maybe it's because he expected that you would ask him to never see his family ever again, or to never see you and your children ever again…

"The kids, too. Gabriel and Linnie have a big brother; I want them to know him."

John studies your face as if he’s waiting for you to retract your request.

"Gabriel's spring break is in two months. You're taking us to the London and we're meeting them." You don't ask, you’re telling him.

"Alright... I said I’d do anything and I meant it." John nods as a small look of relief crosses his face. He thinks about speaking again, but decides against it, as he just takes a small breath in and out.

"I should probably get some work done." You glance at the clock on the wall.

He nods. "I'll… see you after work, then...?"

“I’m just gonna be upstairs in my office.” You explain. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

You’re not kicking him out.

“Lovey, what’re you saying?”

“You’ll be sleeping on the couch until further notice.” You continue. “And… you’ll be making breakfast every morning from now on." Your lips twitch into the tiniest smirk.

"Oh?" John smiles a tiny bit as well. "I... I can do that. I’ll do anything- everything.” John pulls you into a hug.

"I’ve gotta get to work.” You gently push him off of you with a small chuckle. “Go check on Linnie.”

You wanted to keep being mad at him, but you couldn’t... He knew what he had to do in order to fix your relationship, and he's doing it.

He has you. Fuck, does he have you.

<< prev next >>

245 notes · View notes

chrissv4mp · 1 day

Text

i feel like laughing in the middle of practice 🤍

summary: when you stop by to show your boyfriend some support at his practice, he can't help but think of all the funny times between the two fo you.

pairing: soccer player!chris sturniolo × fem!reader

warnings // topics: high-school au, some vulgar language, fluff

a/n: will definitely be writing short little one-shots between the releases of chapters for my new series, so... here's a fluffy chris one for you guys💞

"what're you doing here, y/n?" chris asked, trying to hide his excitement but ultimately failing as he grinned widely.

you just shrugged, "i wanted to watch you and come support you. this is your last practice before the championship and i just want you to know that no matter what, i'll always be here."

his smile faded slowly, lips parting as blood rushed to his cheeks. he would give you the world, you were his person and he already knew it.

his hands found their way to your shoulders, running down your arms softly in a way of affection before he pulled you into a big hug.

your smile widened, nuzzling your head into his chest as your hands wrapped around his body. he was the best hugger you knew, and an even better boyfriend.

"i love you," he muttered quietly, taking in the scent of your shampoo as he kissed your head lovingly.

"i love you more, chris." you replied, hearing the boy laugh.

he pulled away from you before scoffing, "well, that's not true, but i don't really have time to argue right now."

he crossed his arms over each other, and you couldn't help but stare at his body. he didn't have huge muscles, but he was so strong and his body was clear proof of that.

chris looked even better in his soccer uniform, those shorts that fit around his waist a little loose and the jersey that had his last name on the back.

you would never get tired of seeing him like this.

chris's laugh broke you out of your trance, "what are you looking at?"

this time it was your turn to be flushed, hiding your face in chris's zip-up hoodie that you took a few days ago, "nothing, just go and do your soccer-y things!"

the brunette chuckled, "yeah, okay, i'll go do my "soccer-y" things."

"love you, babe," he muttered, kissing your cheek before jogging off to the field where his teammates were talking.

chris wasn't even halfway through stretches when you crossed his mind yet again. nolan was complaining about his dad, and the brunette boy's mind couldn't help but wander.

he remembered that impression you did of your dad, about how strict he was when it came to boys.

that was probably one of the few times he's laughed that hard. and right now, he just couldn't help but let out a little snicker.

it went unnoticed by the rest of his team, as they were chanting the muscle they were currently stretching out.

"sturniolo! i can't hear you," coach william yelled, and chris sighed.

even when he started to yell along with his teammates, his mind was still on you. you were so good to him, putting up with his energetic, silly personality.

his head turned to the bleachers, and he smiled with his teeth. you were there, right on the first row.

you weren't on your phone or distracted by anything else, your attention was solely on him and only him.

as you gave him a thumbs up, he giggled, flustered as he looked away and back to the team.

he was obsessed with you.

the next time you crossed his mind was during scrimmage, he overheard the other boys talking about the game "kiss, marry, kill."

he remembered on of your first encounters with each other, it was at a party that his brother, matt, had hosted.

some girl had suggested the game, and when it was chris's turn you were one of the options. he had said marry, and that same night you had shared your first kiss.

chris was goalie at the moment, and right now somebody was coming up the field. he quickly got ready before the ball was kicked.

he groaned as the ball hit his face, bending over and holding his nose, "shit,"

javion ran over, eyes wide as he patted his teammates back, "chris, you okay?"

"my bad, man, i forgot i could kick that hard." he apologized, stepping away as chris stood up straight again.

chris smiled, "you're good. i wasn't even paying attention. it's my fault."

when the next round started, the thought of you was still lingering in his mind. he couldn't escape it, but he wasn't complaining.

practice was over and chris was practically sprinting towards you. it hadn't taken him long since he was the fastest on the soccer team, though.

he fell into your arms, hugging you tightly as he inhaled your perfume again, "i missed you."

you chuckled, looking up at him, "it's only been an hour, and i've been here the entire time, baby,"

"'felt like an eternity when i couldn't see your face." chris muttered before pulling away to stare at you.

your face went red again, looking away as you smiled widely.

he whined, "c'mon, i've been waiting to see you and now you're hiding?"

"oh, stop being a baby." you said, pulling him into a kiss.

chris smiled, holding your waist possessively as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip.

"i love you, y/n." he whispered against your lips, mind racing with millions of thoughts of you.

"i love you, too, chris."

. . . . .

tags: @adirtylittleheart @thc-bolter

#Spotify #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine

170 notes · View notes

jymwahuwu · 2 days

Note

How about a powerful mini darling? I was inspired by your mini interactions that I made this. Because the darling suddenly got shrunken to literal palm-sized, instead of standing around, she began making their way to success by using it to their advantage. Advertisements are hard to make with all those budgets and actors, right? Voila! With minimal yet good quality props, stellar lighting, and editing, you'll get her to advertise your products. Dolls, jewelry, make-up, perfumes and fancy alcohols. The darling is owning her smallness. Another protective barrier from the yandere to snatch her.

cw: yandere, mini! reader, mentioned escape, possible abuse of power in the future

You mean you started a new career as an advertising star? Very cute!! You found an entertainment company that was facing financial difficulties and was willing to do commercials and promotions for you. The agent holds your hand with his finger to show cooperation. Based on your current size, they can prepare makeup, advertising scenes, and lighting without expensive costs.

Once you appeared on the screen, many viewers expressed their appreciation and amazement. It was so adorable!! There are few species in the universe that are so miniscule. You inspired some fashion trends.

But, only you know that part of the reason why you became a star is because you want to escape… You want to get other people's attention, so you won't be forcibly taken away.

Thinking like this… is a bit naive.

Aventurine used a new proposal to work with the company. The more respectable term is cooperation, but in fact IPC has taken over the company. That's just a small business move, insignificant. The other members of Ten Stonehearts didn't know why he would do such a useless thing. Well, okay, there is a potential value, you can definitely become the most popular mini star.

When you were using a powder puff to prepare for a new commercial shoot, Aventurine's face was reflected in the mirror, and you were so scared that your heart skipped a beat. What? Why is he here? He reached out and cupped you in his palm, his thumbs pulling down your straps.

The assistant exclaimed, "Wait a minute, Mr. Aventurine, you can't do this…"

"Haha, don't worry, I won't do anything excessive here. This is just cooperation." You knelt down on his palm, your face flustered. The straps on both sides of your dress fell down, exposing your bare shoulders and thighs.

"Right? Nice to meet you. I will arrange ads for you directly in the future."

#aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail aventurine #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail x you

178 notes · View notes

zoofzoofxx · 2 days

Text

“OH MY GOD THAT’S JOOST KLEIN!”

(Pt. 2)

Pairing - Joost Klein x fem!reader

Summary - Following an attempt to ignore Joost and act as though nothing had happened, you both meet on a rainy day while waiting for the bus. He offers you a ride but first takes you out for a dinner and shows you the beauty of Amsterdam at night.

Genre- fluff, maybe little bit of angst.

Mentions - @dozcan123 , @multifilmfan & @mrschandlerbing

▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

About three months back, something went down with Joost Klein. We chatted at first, but then I got busy, and Joost wouldn't quit trying to get in touch. I brushed off his messages until I finally blocked his number. After that, he stopped trying to reach out on other social platforms. I felt a bit guilty, but I figured he probably moved on. Sometimes I thought about unblocking him and telling him how I felt, but when I saw he was into Eurovision, I hesitated. 3 weeks ago, he dropped a track called Europapa, and it blew up. The song brought back memories of Joost, making me consider going to Eurovision with my sister. Lost in thought, a message from my best friend Zofia interrupted me, signaling her arrival. We decided to grab a drink and catch up, with Zofia's unexpected entrance and our trip to a nearby bar helping clear my head.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ 3 hours later ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

I checked my bus app to see when my bus will arrive. I still had 35 minutes left but the walk wasn’t short so basically I already should be on my way. I escorted my best friend to her place; she was completely wasted, and so was I. It was the usual routine - she'd get super drunk, I'd have to take her home, and then make sure I got back to my flat safely at night. I glanced at my friend before asking if she could at least get ready for bed and sleep. She agreed, closed the door, leaving me alone. I turned on maps to find the nearest bus stop direction, and just as I did, a few raindrops fell on my screen, signaling the impending rain. And sure enough, it started pouring. I began to run, and as I was about to cross the street, a car came speeding towards me, honking loudly, nearly hitting me. Shocked, I turned around, not knowing what to do. The car was already gone, so I tried to forget the scary moment and went to sit on the bench at the bus stop just a few steps away. Sitting there, rain pouring down on me as there was no roof over the bench, I stared at the ground, hoping the bus would arrive soon, even though I still had 10 more minutes to wait in the cold rain.

“Y/n?” A low male voice with a pronounced Dutch accent addressed me. I turned looked up to find a recognizable individual standing directly in front of me. I was taken aback by the sight of him drenched from head to toe, standing there as confused as I was.

"Joost?" I uttered, rising to my feet and adjusting my coat. An extended pause ensued, with neither of us certain of how to initiate this dialogue.

"It was you crossing the street? Please be more cautious next time," he began, causing my eyes to widen in surprise.

"I apologize." I glanced aside and then back at him. He appeared altered. His hair had brightened notably, nearly reaching a platinum blond tone. His demeanor was grave. It seemed like he wasn't content to see me, and frankly, I wasn't excited either.

"How are you?" Were the only words that escaped my lips.

"I'm good. Have you been drinking?" He inquired, moving a bit closer, though there was still a noticeable gap between us. I caught a whiff of his cologne once more. It was the same scent from three months back when he assisted me in zipping up my jacket.

"Tipsy, not drunk," I corrected him, settling back onto the bench, which was once again damp. I glanced down at my shoes, feeling embarrassed.

"I can catch a whiff of the alcohol from here," he remarked, and I simply pouted, unsure of how to respond. He moved closer and settled beside me. Our shoulders brushed together. In a sudden impulse, I rested my head on his shoulder, shutting my eyes and relishing the moment. It dawned on me how much I had missed Joost.

"Y/n, do you want a lift?" Joost interrupted my thoughts. I hesitated a lot, unsure if I should say yes or no.

"Sure." I say standing up. He stood up as well, and I just followed him. It was a 1-minute walk until we arrived at the car I almost got hit by. I sat in the passenger seat and inhaled the scent, Joost's specific cologne mixed with cigarettes. I yawned, leaning on the window. He started his car, and we drove through the city. There was complete silence between us until there was a loud growl. I covered my stomach with my arm and started to daydream about what I would eat when I arrived home.

“What are you doing?” I inquired as Joost made a sudden right turn.

“I’m starving, do you like McDonalds?” He asked and I furrowed my brows.

"I suppose so, but I've got some food at home, so I'll decline," I replied, earning a chuckle from the blonde guy.

"Ha, that's totally a classic mom move: 'We've got food at home,'" he mimicked, leading to a moment of silence as we both pondered our next words.

"It's on me." He stated, breaking the silence as he parked his car in the parking lot and switched it off.

"Please," he uttered, casting me those identical pleading eyes as during our initial encounter. Exhaling deeply, I release my seatbelt and unlatch the car door.

"Macdonalds around midnight just hits differently," Joost remarked as he savored his first bite of the Big Mac.

"Would you like some?" He inquired, flashing me a comforting smile.

"Thanks, but I'm good," I replied, smiling back, enjoying my chicken nuggets. I noticed Joost eyeing them, so I pushed the box towards him and nodded, signaling he could give them a try.

"May I?" He inquired, gazing at me. He looked very handsome. His beautiful blue eyes peered through his thick-framed glasses. He wore a Burberry scarf around his neck. His sharp jawline was what made him truly attractive.

"Sure," I replied, looking down, aware that I was blushing intensely.

"You know I've never tasted chicken nuggets," he remarks as he takes one, slyly snatching the sauce I was using. He sampled the nugget while I indulged in some French fries that I also relished. I glanced out the window; it was entirely dim outside. Then I shifted my gaze back to Joost.

"Why did you block my number?" He inquired out of the blue. I sat upright, unable to provide a response to his query.

"I was occupied," I replied curtly, feeling a bit anxious that this conversation might escalate. He simply nodded, unsure of what to say. After a moment of contemplation, he finally broke the silence.

"Occupied with someone?" He inquired, prompting me to tilt my head slightly. I needed a moment to ponder and craft a thoughtful response. I wasn't preoccupied with anyone. I was simply engrossed in self-care, focusing on my mental well-being, striving to improve my life even just a little. My daily routine felt monotonous - waking up, having breakfast, heading to work, eating dinner, sleeping, and repeating the cycle. I grew weary of this routine. I longed for my parents, my younger sister, and the carefree days of childhood.

“No.” I replied dryly, as I took my final sips of coke. Joost had already pushed the box back, but I nudged it back to signal that he can have the last nuggets. He accepted the food, pondering his response before blurting out something foolish.

“So you were occupied with…?” He prompted me to complete the sentence. I simply sighed in response.

"My mental health," I respond, causing his eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"You could have informed me that you were having a tough time. I would have been there to support you," he says, gazing at me with concern.

"I just needed some time to myself," I say, hoping to end this conversation.

"You know, I felt foolish when you blocked me. You could have simply mentioned you weren't interested in me, and I would have backed off," he says, sitting upright, with a hint of remorse in his eyes as he gazes at my hands. I was fidgeting with my sleeve.

"Feeling tense?" He asks, taking hold of my hand. I wanted to say no, but deep down, I knew I could only answer yes.

"No. Not really." I respond, attempting to avoid the eye contact he's seeking.

"Do you desire any more food?" He inquired, and I simply shook my head to decline.

"Let’s go then." He suggests, gently patting my back. We exited the building together.

"I can walk home from here," I say, glancing at him. He was tall and had a very masculine appearance.

"Can I accompany you home?" He questioned, and unsure if it was a wise choice, I sensed it might be our last meeting for a long time, or possibly never again. Nevertheless, I nodded, and he grinned. We began walking towards my house.

"I like your scarf," I mentioned, breaking the silence. He didn't say anything but gently removed it and wrapped it around my head.

"It looks much more flattering on you," he remarks with a smile, reaching out to grasp my shoulder, drawing me closer to him. Suddenly, he makes a wrong turn.

"That's not the route to my place," I mention, furrowing my brows. I was nearly sober.

"I know. There's a spot I'd like to take you to," he mentions as we reach the bridge. The wind was strong, messing up Joost's hair. He tried to fix it quickly, but it didn't really work. I couldn't help but laugh, and he rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue in response.

"Hey, what's so funny?" he says playfully, giving me a gentle push.

"Nothing," I uttered as he drew me closer once more, and I simply relished the moment. It dawned on me that I was thoroughly enjoying the time with the tall Dutch gentleman. A quiet interval ensued until we reached a bridge. It was truly a sight to behold, and I couldn't resist capturing it in a photograph. Stepping back, I ensured Joost was also in the frame. He glanced at me, posed with a smile, and shaped a heart with his fingers.

"Aww, adorable!" I say with a smile, and he approached without a word. I tucked my phone away, and Joost simply embraced me. No words. No sounds. Just two individuals embracing at the bridge. Two hearts beating in unison.

"I deeply yearned for you," is the only utterance he managed.

"I missed you as well," I reply softly, maintaining the embrace. We linger in the moment before eventually deciding to head back home as the chill of the evening sets in.

"When do you plan to depart for Sweden?" I inquire purely out of interest.

"My manager mentioned they're counting on me to be at the hotel tomorrow," I respond, nodding in understanding.

"Are you not keen on joining me?" He inquired. He had already asked me this question during our meal.

"I'd be happy to join, but I need to find a way to make some money," I respond, to which he pouts in disappointment.

"I comprehend. Please inform me if your decision changes," he states, and I offer a smile. Upon reaching my residence, we bid our final farewells. He mentioned I could keep the scarf but requested something in return. As I lacked valuable items, he noticed my bag and a small keychain, a fluffy pink heart. He inquired about exchanging it, to which I happily agreed, asking if he desired anything else, but he declined. We shared a parting hug, and he mentioned he would text me. After he left, I unblocked his number but never received a message from him again.

A/n - guys I’m so sorry this is so shitty 😭 I feel like I made so much grammar mistakes. English isn’t my native language so if you see any mistakes please contact me 😘 BY THE WAY I DONT KNOW IF YALL NOTICED BUT Y/N’S BEST FRIEND IS ACTUALLY ME 😍😍😍😍😍THANK YOU SO MICH FOR 60 FOLLOWERS ILY! leave a comment behind please it gives me a lot of motivation ✌🏻 I’m actually thinking if I should make a part 3 but idk lmk 😊 PEACE OUT 😇✌🏻LUV U GUYS 🥰❗️💋💋💋💋💋

#joost klein x you #x female reader #x fem!reader #x y/n #x reader #joostkleinxreader #stand with joost #free joost #justice for joost #joost klein #joostice #cute #couple #fluff #angst #last goodbye #part 2 #zoofzoofxx

270 notes · View notes

erwinsvow · 3 days

Note

have you ever written something where shy reader is too anxious to tell someone they got her order wrong or tell the lady at the nail salon she didn’t exactly like the color/shape

no but omg this is soooo real

getting your nails done was always fun—though sometimes, you leave with something completely different than what you came in wanting.

you found it hard to speak up to anyone, your nail tech included. instead you'd nod politely and smile sweetly when they were doing your nails.

it was just nails—it didn't matter if they were a little shorter than you wanted, or if the pink was a little more bubblegum than baby. they looked pretty and you avoided someone getting upset with you—you considered it a win-win situation.

and it was beginning to work itself out—you had discovered your favorite nail lady, the one who always understood what you wanted and didn't make you nervous when you'd show her the picture you'd brought for inspiration. and going today, you were expecting your appointment to be with her—like always.

until you found out she was home sick. normally you'd wait—but you were at the salon today specially since you were going to a party with rafe tonight, and the idea of going with your bare and currently very ugly nails seemed completely out of the question.

and even worse—rafe had brought you. you didn't want to turn to him and tell him to take you back home, not when he'd driven you all the way here and agreed to sit with you even though you're sure he doesn't want to.

so you suck it up—you show the new tech your photo, a pretty pink and white french tip with some bows and flowers, and hope for the best. she's doing fine, it looks like the picture for the most part.. except your nails are looking more square than round, and it's a little too long for your taste. she's about to start painting, telling you to go wash your hands.

you get up, heart thudding uncomfortably. you hate this about yourself—hate it worse than anyone else could. the nail lady couldn't care less if you ask for them shorter and rounder, but you can't bring yourself to do it. instead you stare down at your nails in the sink and feel like you might start crying.

rafe has a sixth sense—he can always tell when you're feeling upset. you don't know how he does it, just that he does.

all he had noticed was that you had stopped smiling back at him every few minutes about half way into the second hand getting done—and then just now, when you got up, you didn't look at him on your way to the sink.

rafe follows you there, a hand on your shoulder to turn you around. he's got a candy in his mouth, plucked from the bowl they keep near the entrance.

"what's wrong?" he comes out a little raspy, his tongue red.

"nothing," you reply, too quickly. you look up at him with your watery eyes, trying your hardest not to cry.

"c'mon, kid. what is it? someone say something?" he asks, turning around to where you were sitting and the two techs in the vicinity.

"no, no. nothing. it's just-" again, you hate this. you don't know why it's so hard to find the words, why they just don't want to come out. you swallow it down.

"what? you gotta tell me if you want me to help," he says, quieter, leaning in a little. you feel better immediately when he says it, but you still can't look up at him. you stare down at the too-long, too-square acrylics.

"it's not.. exactly what i wanted. i don't know how to tell them. i don't want them to be upset-"

"is that it?" rafe asks, and you look up quickly, eyes getting teary again. is he mad at you too now? your expression gives you away, lips turning into a sad pout. "baby, she doesn't care. they get paid either way. gotta ask for what you want."

"but i don't want her to-"

"s'okay. i'll tell her. c'mon. don't cry, it's fine."

you follow rafe back—cheeks burning with embarassmnet. bad enough that you can't ever speak up for yourself, now rafe is involved and he probably thinks you're some kind of child-

"stop overthinkin'. it's easy for me to tell her, it's harder for you. so i'll tell her, okay?" looking up at your boyfriend, your ears ring a little. you hear him talk to your tech—you see his mouth moving, maybe making out shorter and she likes round, okay?

you can't hear anything, it feels like there's music in your ears. the tech nods and smiles at you, fixing them and before your very eyes, your nails look exactly how you wanted them to. rafe pulls his chair closer to yours, a hand on your knee.

his words keep repeating in your head—stop overthinking. and like always, you listen to rafe.

179 notes · View notes

lavnderwonu · 13 hours

Text

first time | kim mingyu

pairing: bf!mingyu x virgin!fem!reader

genre: smut, established relationship

summary: your first time having sex with your boyfriend.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: contains smut (!!!), loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, experienced mingyu, fingering, clit stimulation, masturbation, size kink, oral sex (f receiving), mingyu is a sweetheart <3, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare.

author’s note!: inspired by this specific ask lol. i have been pondering this in my head for a minute, and i decided to just bring it to life. if this topic/genre isn’t your cup of tea, don’t read it, go read some of my other works. feedback is always appreciated, enjoy! 💞

p.s. we're lucky this made it out of the drafts

to be added to my taglist, click here!

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Mingyu gently asks, gazing down at you as his hands are at the hem of your t-shirt.

He’s stopped himself from pulling it off, patiently awaiting your permission.

Mingyu was always patient with you, more so than you thought you deserved. He never wanted to rush you into something you weren’t ready for, especially when you were open with him and told him you’d never had sex before.

All your friends thought it was a mistake to tell him that, and that he’d find any excuse to leave, especially since they couldn’t believe that a guy like him could want to be with an in-experienced girl like you, and that he’d want somebody who basically…knew what to do with him.

But he never did, and he patiently waited for you.

Now here you are, lying on his bed as he’s towering over you, his hands slowly sliding up your shirt.

“…I need to hear you say it.” Mingyu continues.

You brush his hair back off his forehead, kissing him gently. “Yes, Mingyu…” You can’t help but giggle as you can’t believe how sweet he’s being.

He undresses you carefully, kissing all over your body gently.

Mingyu gently trails kisses down your stomach, stopping when he reaches the waist of your underwear. He tugs on the waistband as you lift your hips for him to take them off.

He takes in the sight of you; already nearly dripping wet for him when all he did was kiss you.

“Do you touch yourself, baby?” Mingyu asks you, his gaze lifting up from your soaking core.

“Uh-huh…” You nod, suddenly feeling lightheaded as he’s now watching your every move.

“Show me, baby.” He smirks, clearly amused.

“Go ahead.”

You bring your fingers down to your clit, circling it a few times, the sense of relief making your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you dip your fingers between your folds to gather more wetness, bringing them back up to your clit.

Mingyu’s gaze fixates on your core, until it tears away when you call out his name.

“Mingyu…” You whine, as you shamelessly rock your hips against your hand.

“What, baby?” Mingyu licks his lips as he watches you.

“Touch me,” You beg, leaning your head back against his pillow, while already feeling so eager to know what he feels like. “Please.”

Saving teasing you for another time, since you’re begging for him and he can’t resist, his fingers replace yours and holy shit is it so much better.

You moan against his lip as he kisses you fervently, before he’s climbing down your body until he’s settling himself between your parted thighs.

Your heart pounds in anticipation, his hands gentle as he pushes your thighs further apart for him.

“So pretty…” He mumbles as he eyes your soaking wet core in front of him. “Can’t believe you’ve never done this before…”

You almost want to kick him as if to say get on with it already, but before you can even think, he’s nudging his face between your thighs.

His tongue slides over your clit, and the feeling makes you throw your head back.

“Fuck…” You let out a shaky cry, as you reach out and tangle your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as you’re desperate for something to hold.

Mingyu groans against your cunt as you let out the prettiest sounds, wanting to hear more from you, he slides two fingers inside you, feeling your walls stretch around his fingers.

“Shit… Mingyu,” You gasp, arching your back off the bed as your hips grind against his hand as his fingers slowly fuck you. His fingers stretching you open almost hurts, but it feels too good all at the same time.

In perfect timing he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit just as he curls his fingers, perfectly hitting a spot that nearly has you seeing stars. With a loud cry of his name, your legs lock as an orgasm suddenly overtakes you.

Mingyu pulls back just as your head falls back against his pillow, your neck lightly covered in a sheen of sweat. You’re still catching your breath when Mingyu hovers over you again, kissing your forehead gently.

“Ready, baby?” He asks, as he’s ridding himself of his Calvin Klein boxers, making your attention draw to his cock; the mere size nearly takes your breath away.

“You can tell me to stop anytime… okay?”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation, eager to finally know what he feels like.

Mingyu gently pushes your thighs apart, slowly running his cock through your folds to wet himself with your arousal. He inadvertently bumps your clit, making you whimper and grip the sheets in your fist.

He lines himself up with your entrance, shuddering in pleasure when he finally sinks into you, making you gasp.

“Mingyu…” You whine as he’s stretching you open, making you grab onto his sturdy shoulders to ground yourself. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Mingyu leans down to gently kiss your jaw, leading down your neck to distract you. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” He groans as he finally bottoms out.

His thrusts start off slow and shallow at first, letting you get used to him. You’re squeezing his cock so tight that Mingyu feels the need to ravage you, but he’d save that for another time.

He gradually picks up the pace, as he shifts his hips slightly, making his cock drive right into your sweet spot, making you arch your back and push your chest against him.

You moan loudly as your nails dig into his biceps, making Mingyu groan as your walls clench him.

“Gonna cum already, baby?” Mingyu smirks, breathing so heavily you can feel his hot breathe on your neck.

“Yeah…” You whine, nodding furiously. Your mind is far too clouded with the feeling of his cock inside you to put together any other words.

“Go on baby, come for me.” Mingyu grunts, his fingers moving to rub circles on your clit, making you whimper. “C’mon.”

Your legs shake as you come with a loud cry of his name, Mingyu keeps going until he’s coming too, slowly rolling his hips to fuck you through your high.

It’s amazing how quick his demeanor changes, he’s immediately peppering kisses gently on your face, his puppy-eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Was that okay?” He wonders. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” You reassure him, and he’s relieved as you throw your arms over his shoulders to gently play with his hair. “That was amazing.”

He gently rolls you over so he can pull you on top of him, basking in the feeling of your weight on top of him.

“We should do that again…” You hint, your fingers toying with his necklace.

“Do you want to?” Mingyu chuckles. You already can’t get enough of him.

“Maybe,” You snuggle into his chest, sighing contentedly. “I kind of wanna stay like this for a while.”

tags!: @cosmojinyoung @wonuwrites @dearlyjun

#kim mingyu #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut

203 notes · View notes