#It makes him feel confident! And he enjoys it! AND he looks good in it.
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Young Love and Old Money
Max Verstappen x Stroll!Reader
Summary: Max quickly learns that life with the paddock’s favorite nepo baby as his girlfriend is never boring
You take a deep breath as the town car pulls up to the grand arched doorway of your family’s Montreal estate. Beside you, Max squeezes your hand gently.
“Don’t worry, schatje,” he says, “Your father will love me.”
You smile nervously. “I hope so. But you know how protective he can be.”
Max grins. “I can handle it.”
The driver opens the door and you step out into the crisp night air, your heels clicking on the cobblestone. Max follows, straightening his suit jacket.
Inside, the foyer glitters with crystal chandeliers. A maid hurries to take your coats. As she leads you to the formal dining room, your heart pounds.
This dinner needs to go perfectly.
Your father and Lance are already seated at the long mahogany table, chatting. They look up as you enter and break into smiles.
“Y/N!” Your father exclaims warmly, standing to embrace you. “So wonderful to see you, mon minou.”
You hug him tightly back. “You too, Papa.”
Lance grins as he hugs you next. “Hey sis. Long time no see.”
You playfully mess up his hair. “Too long, little bro.”
Finally, you turn to Max, who is waiting patiently. “Papa, Lance, you already know my boyfriend, Max.”
Max steps forward confidently and shakes their hands. “Mr. Stroll, Lance, it’s an honor to finally meet you both properly.”
Your father looks Max up and down appraisingly. “The honor is mine, Max. Please, call me Lawrence.”
You let out a small sigh of relief as you all take your seats. So far, so good.
The first course is brought out — a decadent lobster bisque. You all sip appreciatively.
“Delicious,” Max compliments.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” your father says graciously. “Now, tell me Max, how is your season going so far?”
You tense slightly. Here it comes, the interrogation.
But Max just smiles. “It’s been excellent. A few tough races, but I’m leading the championship at the moment. The car has great pace and I think we have a shot at the title again this year.”
Lance jumps in enthusiastically. “I saw your battle with Charles last race when I was rewatching the tape. Epic stuff, man!”
“Thanks, mate,” Max chuckles. “It was a fun one for sure.”
You exhale in relief. Max is charming them perfectly.
The conversation flows easily through the next few courses. You can’t help but gaze admiringly at Max as he seamlessly meshes with your family. He has a natural confidence and charisma that puts everyone at ease.
Over dessert, your father says warmly, “Max, I can see why my Y/N cares for you. You’re clearly an exceptional young man, both on and off the track.”
Max smiles, touched. “Thank you, sir. Y/N is very special to me.” He squeezes your hand.
You beam, your heart swelling. This is going even better than you hoped.
You finish up the chocolate mousse and set down your spoon contentedly. “That was delicious. This dinner has been wonderful, thank you Papa.”
“Of course,” your father says fondly. “I’m so glad you both could make it out here from Monaco.”
“Thank you for having me,” Max adds.
“Anytime,” Lawrence smiles.
You glance around the table happily. Your boyfriend fits right in with your family. Everything feels so natural and perfect.
“Daddy, could you please pass the sugar?” You ask amiably.
Immediately, both Max and your father’s hands reach for the small pot of sugar in the center of the table. They both freeze awkwardly for a second, before Lawrence pulls his hand back slowly.
You feel your stomach drop as you see the dawning realization cross your father’s face.
Oh no.
This is bad.
Lawrence’s smile becomes forced. “So tell me Max, what exactly does my daughter call you?”
Max’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly. “Um, just Max usually.”
You sink down in your chair, wincing.
Your father lets out a hollow laugh. “Is that so? Because it didn’t sound like that to me.”
A leaden silence descends on the table. Lance glances between you all, smothering a smirk.
Max clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, uh, that’s just a casual nickname really ...”
Lawrence raises an eyebrow. “A casual nickname you say? For my daughter to call her boyfriend in front of her family?”
You close your eyes, willing yourself to vanish. This is excruciatingly embarrassing.
“Dad, come on,” Lance snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “They’re young, it’s whatever.”
“No Lance, it’s not whatever,” your father snaps, an edge in his voice now. “I would like Max to explain himself here.”
Max holds up his hands placatingly. “Sir, I apologize if we’ve made you uncomfortable. But I assure you our relationship is completely respectful.”
You nod quickly. “Papa, he’s right. Can we please just move on?”
But Lawrence is unyielding. “I will not have anyone take liberties with my daughter, do you understand me, young man?”
Max looks properly chastened. “Yes sir, of course. I meant no offense.”
Your father bristles as he glares between you. The awkward tension hovers for several painful moments.
Finally, you can’t take it anymore. “Papa, stop!” You blurt out. “I’m an adult now. You can’t control what I choose to do with my boyfriend.”
Lawrence looks stunned, then hurt. “Y/N, I’m just looking out for you ...”
“I know, but I don’t need protecting from Max. He’s wonderful and he makes me so happy. Can’t you let me make my own choices?”
Your father’s expression softens. He sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s just … so hard for me to think of you growing up.”
You reach over and squeeze his hand. “I know. But I’ll always be your little girl.”
Lawrence smiles tenderly at you, then turns to Max. “Forgive my outburst, son. I can see how much you care for each other.”
Max looks relieved. “Of course, sir. I understand completely.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Crisis averted.
Your father stands, raising his glass. “To young love. May you always treat my daughter with the honor and respect she deserves.”
“I will, sir,” Max promises earnestly.
You all clink glasses, the tension dissolving. Conversation resumes, lighter and more relaxed now.
Later, as Max helps you on with your coat, your father claps him warmly on the back. “Thank you for making my daughter so happy. You’ll always be welcome in our home.”
Max’s face lights up. “Thank you, sir. That means the world.”
Lawrence winks. “I was young once too, you know. Just maybe keep the nicknames to yourselves around me.”
You all laugh together. Your heart swells with joy. Despite the awkward moments, the evening couldn’t have gone better.
As the chauffeur drives off into the night, you snuggle contentedly into Max’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so wonderful tonight,” you whisper.
He kisses your hair. “Of course, liefje. I would do it all over again for you.”
***
The sleek red Ferrari glints under the showroom lights as you and Max admire your reflection in the gleaming curves.
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Max grins, running his hand along the hood. “I can’t wait to take her out on the open road.”
You smile at his childlike enthusiasm. “She certainly is gorgeous. You have great taste, babe.”
The salesman steps forward eagerly. “Yes, the Ferrari SF90 Stradale is our newest supercar model. Twin-turbo V8, 720 horsepower. She’ll do 0 to 60 in under three seconds.”
Max’s eyes light up. “Incredible. I think I’m in love already.”
You laugh. “Should I be jealous?”
“Never,” Max winks, pulling you in for a quick kiss.
The salesman smiles indulgently. “Why don’t we step into my office to finalize the paperwork?”
“Sounds good,” Max agrees, lacing his fingers through yours as you follow the salesman.
In the sleek minimalist office, you both take a seat across from the desk as the salesman pulls up Max’s file.
“Excellent. Everything looks in order, Mr. Verstappen,” he says briskly. “If you just sign here and here, we’ll get you all set up.”
Max eagerly scrawls his signature on the documents. You watch in amusement — he reminds you of a kid on Christmas morning.
“Alright, congratulations!” The salesman stands and shakes Max’s hand. “The SF90 is all yours. We’ll have her prepped and ready for you within the hour.”
“Amazing, thanks so much,” Max grins, standing up.
You’re about to follow him out when a flash of black catches your eye. Through the office window, you spot a brand new Ferrari model on display in the showroom.
“Ooh what’s that one?” You ask curiously, gazing at the aggressive curves and styling.
The salesman glances over. “The new 812 Competizione A. It is a limited edition 599-unit production run. Just unveiled last month.”
You feel a thrill run through you as you take in the stunning hypercar. “It’s incredible. I have to have it.”
Max raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? You want that one too?”
You turn to the salesman decisively. “I’ll take it. My family has bought from Ferrari for years, my name should be in your client database.”
“Of course, Miss Stroll,” the salesman nods, typing rapidly into his computer. “I see you right here. Let’s start the paperwork and we’ll get the car ordered for you right away.”
You grab your purse, immediately fishing out your black Centurion Card. “Just bill it to my usual card, thanks,” you say breezily, handing it over.
You can feel Max’s stunned gaze on you but you keep your focus on the salesman, reviewing the spec sheet and customization options.
This new Ferrari is just too sexy to resist.
Within minutes, the paperwork is signed and you’ve secured the very first 812 Competizione A destined to stay in Monaco. You grin excitedly — you can’t wait to get your hands on it.
“Thank you so much, just have it delivered to my place in the Fontvieille district when it’s ready,” you tell the appreciative salesman before turning to leave.
You lace your fingers through Max’s, still smiling about your new spontaneously purchased hypercar. “Ready to take your new baby out for a drive?”
Max is quiet as you walk back to the showroom, seemingly lost in thought. He stays silent as the gleaming red SF90 Stradale is pulled around, not even cracking a smile when the salesman hands over the keys with a flourish.
It’s not until you’ve been driving for several minutes, weaving along the coastal roads overlooking the Mediterranean, that Max finally speaks.
“That was 2.13 million euros,” he states flatly. “And you just ... bought it. Without a second thought.”
You glance over, taking in the unreadable expression on his face. “I mean, yeah, it’s a beautiful model. Why not just get it?” You say casually.
Max shakes his head slowly. “I just can’t wrap my head around having that kind of money. That you can just drop over two million without thinking twice.”
You shift slightly, feeling defensive. “I’m sorry, does it make you uncomfortable? I know I grew up with a very different lifestyle ...”
“No, that’s not it at all,” Max interrupts. He pauses, gazing out at the sparkling blue sea pensively.
“It’s just … I’m not used to being with someone who’s on my level. Financially, I mean. All my previous girlfriends, I always had to take care of everything. Pay for dinner, vacations, whatever they needed.”
He turns to look at you. “But you’re different. You have as much money as me, more even. You can buy a hypercar on a whim, no problem. It’s new territory.”
You chew your lip. “I don’t want you to feel emasculated or anything. If you want to pay or take care of things ...”
Max shakes his head again, more firmly this time. “That’s just it — I don’t. I like that you’re independent. It’s really ...”
He pauses, blushing slightly. “Sexy. That’s the word. It’s sexy that you have your own money and success. I’m not used to feeling that in a relationship before.”
Your eyes widen in surprise. That was not the reaction you were expecting.
Max glances at you almost shyly. “Is that weird to say? I just mean, it’s different than what I’m used to, but in a good way. Like we’re equals, you know?”
Slowly, a smile spreads across your face. “No, not weird at all. I get what you mean.” You reach over and squeeze his hand. “This is new territory for me too. But I like discovering it together.”
Max’s face lights up with that radiant smile that melts your heart. “Me too, liefje.”
Your conversation flows easily as you cruise along the seaside, the setting sun glittering on the water. And seeing the look in his eyes when he glances at you now — equal parts love and admiration — you realize just how right it feels.
Being with someone who can match you in every way is new and different for both of you. But you have a feeling it’s the start of something beautiful.
***
The energy buzzing around the paddock is electric as you walk hand-in-hand with Max towards the Red Bull motorhome. Fans line the barriers, cheering and shouting his name. Max smiles and waves, slowing to sign autographs and snap selfies with outstretched phones.
You hang back politely as he interacts with his adoring public. You know the drill by now, having attended countless races with your dad and brother over the years. Blend into the background and let the drivers have their moment.
“Max! Can we get an autograph?” A young girl calls out eagerly, brandishing a cap and marker pen.
“Of course!” Max says graciously, letting go of your hand to walk over.
You hang back contentedly, happy to let him have his moment with his supporters. You catch snippets of their supportive comments as Max signs item after item, posing for selfies in between.
“You’re the greatest, Max!”
“That last win was epic. Get that fourth title this year!”
“We love you so much!”
You smile to yourself. Seeing how much joy Max brings to these fans makes your heart swell with pride and affection.
As you stand waiting patiently, you overhear the girl lean over to her friend and not-so-subtly whisper, “Who’s the chick with Max? She looks kinda stuck up if you ask me.”
Your smile freezes. You see the girl jerk her head rudely in your direction, glaring at you.
“I know right,” her friend agrees in a carrying whisper. “Another gold-digger who managed to sink her claws into a rich man too blind to see what she’s doing.”
You clench your jaw, stung by their spiteful words. Who do they think they are, judging you when they don’t even know you?
Max is still occupied with the other fans, oblivious. You debate whether to just ignore the rude girls. But their jealous gossiping has sparked your defiance. Why should you stay silent?
Squaring your shoulders, you turn and level a steady gaze at them. “For your information, I don’t need a rich man. I am a rich man,” you state coldly.
Their eyes widen in shock, mouths dropping open stupidly. Clearly they weren’t expecting you to confront them.
Before they can react, Max is suddenly beside you, slipping his arm around your waist.
“Whoa, everything okay here?” His gaze darts between you and the embarrassed fans.
You take a breath, ready to explain it away. But Max doesn’t give you the chance.
“You know, if anything, I’m the one who got my claws hooked into her,” he announces, lips curving into a smirk.
Now it’s your turn to gape at him in surprise. The nasty fans look completely bewildered.
“That’s right ladies, I’m just a kept man,” Max continues lightly. “Her arm candy. A sugar baby, if you will.”
He pretends to examine his nails arrogantly and you have to stifle a shocked laugh. Is he actually joking about being your boy toy right now?
Max leans in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, dating a Stroll has done wonders for my bank account. I mean have you seen the new and improved garage decor?”
You smother your grin behind your hand as he prattles on, winking at you.
“So don’t worry about Y/N here, she can buy and sell me twice over.” Max presses a smacking kiss to your cheek. “Isn’t that right, schatje?”
Finally you can’t hold back your laughter anymore. Max joins in and the fans stare, unsure how to react.
“Come on sugar mama, we’ve got a race to win,” Max says breezily, steering you away.
Once safely inside the garage, you turn to him incredulously. “What was that all about?”
Max shrugs, his expression sobering. “I heard what they said. Just wanted to shut them up and defend my girl.”
Your heart melts. Standing on your tiptoes, you kiss him soundly. “My hero. Thank you.”
Max still looks bothered. “You shouldn’t have to deal with stupid gossip. Especially not lies about you using me.”
You slip your arms around his neck persuasively. “It usually doesn’t get to me. Let the jealous haters talk. We know the truth.”
He sighs, gently moving a strand of hair from your face. “I just hate anyone thinking badly of you. You deserve the world.”
Touched by his sincerity, you pull him down into a soft kiss. When you finally draw apart, an idea pops into your head.
“Although ...” you begin thoughtfully, “Maybe we should lean into it.”
Max looks confused. “What do you mean?”
You grin mischievously. “You’re my hot trophy boyfriend. I need to show you off and treat you right.”
Comprehension dawns on Max’s face and he barks out a laugh. “Well I won’t say no to being spoiled.”
He winks roguishly and you dissolve into giggles. The stupid gossipers don’t know anything. You and Max are just perfect together.
For the rest of the weekend, you shamelessly flaunt your new role as Max’s “sugar mommy.” At every opportunity, you shower him with over-the-top gifts and PDA in front of the other drivers and team members.
Designer watches, bouquets of flowers, bottles of decadent gin for his favorite drink — you deliver them all publicly to Max along with cooed compliments and kisses. You can see the amusement hidden behind his mock protests at being “objectified.”
The other drivers are endlessly entertained. Daniel teases Max about latching onto an heiress, while Charles jokingly asks if you have a sister he can date.
By the time Max wins on Sunday, cementing his spot at the top of the championship, the silly gossip from earlier in the weekend is long forgotten.
As you snuggle together on the flight home from the race, you turn to Max curiously. “So, how does it feel being a kept man?”
He pretends to consider it deeply. “Hmm, tough to say. The gifts and pampering were nice ...”
You swat his chest indignantly and he laughs.
“Kidding, kidding,” he assures, pulling you tighter against him. “Obviously I love you for you, not your money, schatje.”
His voice softens. “Thank you for this weekend. I know the gossip bothered you, even if you didn’t show it. I’m lucky to have you by my side.”
You tilt your face up to meet his lips, kissing him tenderly. No more words are needed. Being together says it all.
***
The roar of the crowd surrounds you as you step onto the red carpet on Max’s arm, cameras flashing wildly. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze and leans in close.
“You ready for this, liefje?”
You take a deep breath and nod, pasting on a smile. “Ready.”
This is your big formal debut — attending your first FIA Prize Giving Ceremony as Max’s girlfriend. And with him just winning his fourth World Championship, all eyes are sure to be on you both tonight.
You try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as you begin the walk down the carpet, waving politely to the fans shouting Max’s name. He looks completely at ease, his fourth-straight title boosting his confidence even higher.
You, on the other hand, feel like you might trip over your gown at any moment under the blinding spotlights. But you keep your chin high, channeling the poise that’s been drilled into you since girlhood.
Perks of growing up in high society — you know how to fake it on a red carpet.
About halfway down, an interviewer steps forward, microphone in hand. “Max Verstappen! Congratulations on your fourth championship. How are you feeling tonight?”
Max smiles easily. “Thank you, it feels amazing. It was a great battle all season long so this one feels very satisfying.”
The reporter nods, then turns her attention to you. “And who is this lovely lady accompanying you tonight?”
“This is my girlfriend, Y/N,” Max introduces you proudly.
“Y/N, you look absolutely stunning tonight, if you don’t mind me saying,” the interviewer gushes. “That gown is exquisite!”
You relax slightly, warming to her friendly tone. “Thank you so much!” You smile.
“In fact, both of your outfits are fabulous,” she continues. “Who are you wearing tonight?”
Max’s face lights up. He squeezes your hand excitedly. “Funny you should ask — we’re both wearing custom Y/N Stroll originals!”
You have to resist the urge to giggle at the unconcealed pride in his voice.
The interviewer’s eyes widen. “No way, you designed these yourselves?”
You nod, enjoying her reaction. “I did, yeah. Fashion design is a bit of a hobby of mine.”
“A hobby she’s amazing at,” Max interjects adoringly. “She could have her own luxury brand if she wanted. I feel so honored to wear her work.”
You blush at his high praise. “Oh Max, stop. But thank you, that’s so sweet.”
The reporter seems thrilled at this exclusive scoop. “Incredible! It looks like you have some serious talent, Y/N. Any plans to pursue that more seriously?”
You hesitate briefly. Your father has been gently nudging you to take over his fashion business when he retires. But that’s still in the future ...
You decide to give a lighthearted answer. “We’ll see! Fashion does run in my family so it’s always a possibility.” You finish with a coy smile.
“How wonderful! We’ll be keeping an eye out for Y/N Stroll designs in the future then,” the reporter concludes enthusiastically.
You grin and wave as she lets you continue down the carpet, Max’s arm securely around your waist.
“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” He murmurs in your ear.
“Not at all,” you admit. “I might get used to this whole red carpet thing after all.”
Max winks. “Stick with me and you’ll be a pro in no time.”
Your heart flutters happily. Being by his side just feels so right.
Inside the lavish venue, you’re shown to your table near the front with the other top drivers and their partners. Max pulls out your chair politely before sitting down beside you.
You chat with the other girls at the table, fellow WAGs you’ve gotten to know over the course of the season. They gush over the dress you designed, making you promise to create something for them too.
Soon, the lights dim and the ceremony begins. You clap loudly as Max wins Driver of the Year, bursting with pride for your champion.
Finally, the moment comes for the big one. The announcer begins the buildup, recapping the season’s epic title battle between Max and his closest rival.
"… And in the end, one man emerged victorious for the fourth time in his young but dazzling career,” the announcer concludes. “Formula 1 World Driver’s Champion ... Max Verstappen!”
The room explodes into thunderous applause as Max squeezes your hand and makes his way up to the stage, beaming. You watch with tears in your eyes as he accepts the trophy, looking so handsome and accomplished.
After the ceremony finishes, Max makes his way back to you, trophy in hand. You throw your arms around him. “I’m so proud of you!”
He hugs you tight, then pulls back, his expression earnest. “I couldn’t have done it without your support this season. Having you by my side means everything to me.”
Your heart swells and you kiss him tenderly. “You deserve this so much. And nothing makes me happier than being with you.”
Max’s eyes shine. “I love you, Y/N.”
“I love you too, Max.”
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#max verstappen#mv1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen x y/n#red bull racing#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen drabble
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You only need to ask - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)
pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!
warnings: unprotected sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex
Also, wrap it before you tap it
wordcount: +3K
a/n: As voted by you guys, smut it is. It was an innocent requested prompt, until it wasn't and from the +3k words there's at least half of mature content (🙂). Hope you guys enjoy it.
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.
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Lewis stretched as he padded into the bedroom, feeling the satisfying burn from his morning run. He pushed open the door, expecting to find the room empty. Instead, his eyes landed on you and Roscoe, both nestled under the covers, looking cozy and content.
He grinned, silently tiptoeing to the ensuite bathroom to freshen up. The warm water cascaded over him, washing away the sweat and fatigue of his run. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped out, catching sight of you awake and smirking mischievously.
"Morning, hot stuff" you teased, your eyes sparkling playfully.
Returning the smirk, Lewis pulled on a pair of boxers, facing away from you to get changed. "Oh, we’re hiding the crown jewels then?" you countered, rising from the bed and finding your way to him. “Didn’t have enough last night? Or the past two days I’ve kept you here?” His eyes glimmered as he turned in your touch, your fingers tracing his compass tattoo until you retrieved them and bat your eyelids to him.
“Never can have enough of you” You danced out of the bedroom, clad only in his oversized t-shirt and black panties that peeked through whenever you raised your arms, a sight that wasn't lost on him.
Intrigued and amused, Lewis followed you to the kitchen, Roscoe trailing behind. As you started preparing breakfast, you’d strategically reached for items on the highest shelves, ensuring each and every time he got a generous view. Lewis, feigning nonchalance, perched on the counter, pretending not to watch.
"Playing with fire there, babe" he warned, his voice dripping with feigned seriousness.
You turned, a cheeky grin on your face. "Well, isn't that what makes things interesting?"
Lewis chuckled, closing the distance between you two. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss. Roscoe, ever the attention seeker, wagged his tail, nudging against your legs for some morning affection.
Lewis aimed your focus back to him, reaching for another kiss, but you playfully swatted his hands away with a sly grin. "Nope, hard to get, remember?"
Chuckling at your antics, he raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Alright, alright" he said with a mock huff, though his eyes twinkled with amusement.
You grabbed your plate, hopping onto the countertop with a flourish, crossing your legs and picking up a strawberry. Taking your time, you bit into it slowly, savoring the sweet taste. You looked at Lewis through lowered lashes, a mischievous glint in your eyes.
Lewis leaned back, watching you intently from his seat. His gaze never wavered, locked onto yours, a silent exchange of playful challenges passing between you.
With each strawberry you ate, you could see Lewis's resolve slowly crumbling as the tent in his boxers grew. He shifted in his seat, trying to maintain his casual demeanor, but the intensity of his gaze spoke volumes. You were going to pay for the tease, but the feeling of having his full attention solely by moving around felt too good to not take advantage of.
Unable to resist any longer, Lewis pushed off from his seat, closing the distance between you. Standing in front of you, he gently took the plate from your hands, setting it aside. With a confident grin he held your chin, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss, full of pent-up desire and playful defiance.
Pulling back slightly, he whispered against your lips, "Hard to get, huh?"
You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Well, you started" you teased, your lips finding his once more.
With a playful growl, Lewis swept you off your feet, effortlessly lifting you from the countertop. You let out a delighted squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carried you back towards the bedroom.
"Roscoe, buddy, you stay here." he called out over his shoulder as he passed through the kitchen, pointing a playful finger at the bulldog who watched with curious eyes.
Reaching the bedroom, Lewis gently placed you on the rumpled sheets, the scent of the sex from the past night still lingering in the air. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over every surface, a picture of serenity in stark contrast to the fire that danced in his eyes.
He hovered above you, his hands trailing down your arms, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His lips brushed against yours in a tantalizingly slow kiss, a whisper of what was to come. You met his kiss with fervor, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back. The teasing game was momentarily forgotten for you, replaced by raw desire. Lewis chuckled, a low rumble against your lips, before pulling away slightly.
"Seems like someone's forgotten how we got here in the first place" he murmured, his voice husky with desire. You smirked, a playful glint in your eyes. "It got the job done, didn’t it?" you teased, reaching up to brush a braid from his forehead.
Lewis tugged your oversized t-shirt over your head, the fabric catching playfully on your arms as your squirmed and he ignored your remark. Your breathing hitched when his hands found their way to your breasts, the sound sending another tremor through him as he marveled at you under him.
Leaning down his lips trailed a heated path down your neck. His touch was a delicious torment, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. You’d arch your back into his touch, soft moans escaping your lips.
The morning light glinted off the silver pendant you wore, catching Lewis's eye, his gaze flickering between the pendant and your face, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "My lucky charm?" he teased, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. A warmth bloomed on your cheeks. "Brings me good luck" you countered, your voice a breathless whisper.
Lewis's smirk widened. "Seems to be working" he murmured, before replacing the playful teasing with a deeper kiss. The sheets tangled around them as their playful morning antics escalated into a delicious dance of heated explorations for a long while. Each touch, each brush of skin against skin, sent shivers of pleasure rippling through their bodies.
But as the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, painting the room in a warm, golden glow, the playful nips and teasing whispers morphed into a desperate urgency. Lewis's touch, once light and playful, became a firebrand igniting every nerve ending in your body. His hands roamed your skin, leaving a trail of heat wherever they lingered.
"Lew," you breathed, your voice thick with desire and impatience "I need you."
The raw desperation in your voice sent a jolt through him. He paused, his gaze meeting yours, a storm of emotions swirling within them. A playful glint still lingered in his eyes, but it was quickly overtaken by a possessive gleam.
"Sure you don't want to play a little longer, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a husky caress.
You shook your head, the movement a mere tremor against the tightening hold of his arms. "Please." you pleaded, your voice barely a whisper. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "At your disposal, love" he breathed, his voice a low rumble sending shivers down your spine.
With a swift movement, he shifted, the weight of his body a delicious pressure against yours. The playful morning banter was long forgotten. This was raw, unadulterated desire, and you met his gaze with a burning intensity that mirrored his own. The room seemed to fade away, the only focus the heat radiating from his body, the desperate urgency in your pleas, and the promise of a culmination that had been building since you saw him in only his towel.
His hands found their way to your waist, fingers denting the skin as your fingers tangled in his braids, pulling him closer, throwing your head back on the pillow as Lewis’ mouth sucked on the sensitive spot of your neck.
Your breath came out in ragged gasps, the sensations overwhelming as he skillfully teased and tantalized you, navigating a very fine line between pleasure and torture as you moaned in his mouth.
His hand then roamed lower, reaching your covered clit, rubbing at the fabric sure of the effect the friction would have on you. His touch was deliberate, almost like a shared secret between you two of where you needed him the most, your nails digging into his back seeking to convey the depth of how much you wanted him.
With a soft sigh of satisfaction Lewis shifted his focus, his lips trailing a path down from your neck, his fingers giving you a break as they reached to tear out your panties, his skilled fingers oddly struggling with the lace until he himself couldn’t wait any longer.
“Hey, I really liked that set” You smiled down at his impatience and he threw the rests of the fabric to the side, his pupils huge as he looked lost in yearning. When his eyes finally found yours, his tongue was millimeters away from reaching your clit “Gonna show you only need to ask when you want me, no need all that sass” the intensity of his stare almost as threat.
You couldn’t help but hold your breath as his lips finally touched you, his mouth tracing around your clit, sucking and blowing as you arched your back, too lost in the feeling to really pay attention to anything but him, his eyes tantalizing you, his arms holding you down to the bed by the waist and one of your legs.
You gasped as he lowly growled in approval, one of his big digits joining his movements, dragging the pleasure from out of you, one curl from his fingers and brush of your g-spot at a time. As his tongue danced tantalizingly close to your throbbing clit, you felt your entire body tense with anticipation, the promise of release hanging just out of reach. But then, just as you were on the brink of ecstasy, Lewis abruptly withdrew, leaving you gasping and aching for more.
Your eyes flew open, confusion and frustration mingling with the remnants of pleasure that still pulsed through your veins. You looked up at him, searching his face for answers, but all you found was an expression that remained impassive, his pupils dilated with desire as he loomed over you, his hunger palpable in the air.
"All you need is to ask" his voice was low, a hint of warning laced with desire. You couldn’t help but hold your breath as his lips finally touched you again, his mouth tracing around your clit with agonizing slowness. His tongue danced skillfully, teasing and tantalizing you with each flick and swirl, while his fingers expertly explored every inch of you.
You arched your back, desperate for more, but his hands kept on holding you firmly in place, his grip unyielding as he controlled the pace of your pleasure. Each stroke, each caress pushed you closer and closer to the edge, until you were teetering on the brink of oblivion.
"God, Lew" you gasped, the words torn from your lips in a desperate plea for release. But he only grinned, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he continued to torment you with his touch. His fingers curled inside you, stroking with precision as he dragged out the pleasure, drawing it out until you were writhing beneath him, lost in a haze of ecstasy.
You whimpered in frustration, your body trembling with the effort to hold back the tide of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm you. "Please" you begged, your voice a ragged whisper as you clung to him desperately, your entire being consumed by the need for release.
Lewis relented, his touch shifting from teasing to urgent as he finally gave you the release you craved. With a primal moan, you shattered into a million pieces, clenching around his finger like as your entire world exploded into a kaleidoscope of sensation as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.
As you slowly came down from the dizzying heights of your climax, your senses gradually returned to you, the world around you sharpening into focus once more. And as you looked down at Lewis between your legs, the sight of the tent in his boxers reignited the flames of desire within you, hungering for more, craving the release that only he, and his dick, could give you.
You prompted your body up using your grip on his neck as leverage, climbing on his lap, straddling his hips with a hunger that bordered on desperation. Your fingers toyed with the damp patches of his boxer briefs, teasing him mercilessly as you felt him grow harder beneath you. Lewis hissed in response, the sound sending a jolt of electricity through your veins as you reveled in the power you held over him.
You wanted to tease him back, but the scent of him, musky and intoxicating, was driving you wild, filling your senses with an overwhelming hunger that demanded to be satisfied. So, with eager fingers, you peeled the fabric down, revealing his already rock-hard length, straining in anticipation, thick and pulsing with desire, the sight that had originated all of this.
Each finger at time you wrapped a hand along the length of his shaft, feeling the slickness of his precum glistening on the tip, his balls heavy in the other palm. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, and a primal urge to taste him, to savor the essence of your desire.
Leaning in, you pressed your lips to the tip of his member, tasting the salty sweetness of his precum as it mingled with your tongue. The sound of his sharp intake of breath filled the air, a silent testament to the pleasure he derived from your touch.
The blazing inferno in your stomach threatened to consume you whole as you adjusted him at your entrance, the slight pressure of his tip already sending you into overdrive. And as you lowered yourself onto him, with all his girth stretching you as if you hadn’t been hammered in the past two days, you bulked forward steading yourself with a hand in his abdomen as his murmurs filled the room.
When you finally allowed your waist to start moving Lewis's hands roamed your body with a desperate urgency. You picked up the pace, starting slow and with a few rocks until you were both riding and thrusting with fierce determination, your movements fueled by primal hunger. Every movement sending waves of pleasure crashing over you, drawing you closer and closer to the edge of oblivion as you chased another release.
But just as you felt yourself on the brink of that so-well-known cliff, Lewis whispered in your ear, his voice a husky caress that sent shivers down your spine. "Don't let go just yet, wait for me," he murmured, his words a promise.
With a nod in response to Lewis's whispered command, you agreed, your anticipation growing with each passing moment. As he swiftly threw you onto the bed, your back met the mattress with a soft thud, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through you.
Lewis wasted no time in taking control, he didn’t have to, you were his thoroughly, and his movements were swift and decisive as he pulled you close, his hands gripping your legs with an almost possessive fervor. With a low growl of satisfaction, Lewis hammered you, beginning to move almost instantly, no need to wait this time, his hips rocking against yours with a relentless rhythm.
Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy crashing over you, drawing you deeper into the throes of passion as you surrendered yourself to the blissful oblivion that awaited. But it was the look in his eyes that truly captivated you, a fierce intensity that spoke of his unmistakable desire and of his adoration. His moves might be harsh but his eyes shone all the love he held for you.
The surge of warmth in that loving stare and the sensation of him moving inside you, reaching into every corner of your walls was almost overwhelming, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins as you surrendered yourself to the ecstasy of the moment. And as you clung to him desperately, lost in the whirlwind of sensation that engulfed you both he couldn’t help but whisper breathlessly in your ears “I love you darling”.
His words sent you into diving head first into the abyss and letting go of any will power that prevented you from cumming wrapped in his dick, your legs shaking and the involuntary movements milking his release, with the growl he let out a clear indication that he too, had lost himself in his pleasure.
As you reveled in the moment, basking in the afterglow of being filled with him, Lewis pulled himself out of you with a whimper, sitting back on his heels to admire his work as he smirked looking at your pussy “That was a big one” the satisfaction written all over his body language as he effortlessly jumped up from the bed and came back from the bathroom with a wet cloth, his touch light everywhere he touched you.
“I’m pretty sure those love bites are gonna leave a mark” you chuckled as the high and adrenaline started to wear off and a few purple-ish marks started to be seen and felt. “I could say the same for the nail racks” he mused pulling you to his chest as settled on the bed “I don’t mind though, let’em see how wild I make you” his smirk full on display as you smacked his abs playfully.
As you marveled in the moment, enjoying the quiet intimacy of his embrace and the light hearted talk, you were suddenly interrupted by the sound of Roscoe bounding into the room, his tail wagging eagerly as he held his ball in his mouth. It was as if he was saying, "Okay, now it's my turn for attention."
You couldn't help but laugh at his antics, the sound filling the room with joy as you reached out for him, ready to indulge in some well-deserved playtime and leaving Lewis by himself in bed, a protesting “Hey Roscoe, that’s my girl” echoed in the background, his voice carrying a hint of mock jealousy.
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#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#formula 1
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say my name and everything just stops || gojo satoru x reader
synopsis: You welcome Gojo back after a mission that lasted longer than expected.
(He fucks you on your desk)
word count: 2.6k
genre: canon compliant, smut
cw: porn with some plot, porn with feelings, vaginal sex, fingering, gojo is a tease, light angst, some fluff too, reader is afab, implied fwb, gojo calls reader sensei but they're both teachers
a/n: just a little thing for fun and practice :) enjoy!
more gojo x reader here
Though the sun is setting outside, you’re still at your desk, dutifully filing paperwork. You’ve dismissed the students a long time ago, of course, but you haven’t left the classroom yet. The door sliding open, though you haven’t heard any footsteps, has you glancing up, on high alert. The worry dissipates right away when you’re met with familiar white hair, a broad grin, and all-black clothing.
“Well, well, sensei,” Gojo Satoru says as he approaches your desk with a nonchalant pace, hands in his pockets, “working late, are we?”
“Gojo,” you reply, eyes back on the paper sheet in front of you. “How was your trip?”
“You know you can just ask Ijichi to do that for you, right?” Gojo continues, now standing in front of your desk. “No need for you to do all that by yourself.”
“Ijichi is busy,” you answer, unperturbed by the way he ignored your question. “You’ve been gone a whole week. Did something go wrong?”
“Aw, sensei,” he coos, “were you worried?”
You put down your pen to look up at him. You’re always worried, obviously. While you’re a teacher at Jujutsu High, the main role you’re expected to fulfill is that of strategist, to better coordinate group actions. You wouldn’t be able to do that without being at least a little paranoid.
It just so happens that you are very paranoid.
Faced with your stare, Gojo’s grin widens.
“Well, I guess they were happy to have me around and they had me fix all the little problems they hadn’t been able to get rid of by themselves,” he tells you with a shrug. “If I didn’t do it, no one was going to, so, might as well get everything taken care of in one go.”
It’s hard not to openly grit your teeth at his words. You’re not thrilled about the way Gojo just gets used and shipped off to wherever the elders deem fit. You and Shoko, on the other hand, are expected to remain caged in the more ‘safe’ properties, all in the name of the greater good. You’re not sure what good it’s doing. You still know better than to say it out loud.
“You stopped by Shoko’s before coming here,” you say. It’s not a question, and his face lights up at it.
“One day, you’re really going to have to tell me how you do that.”
It’s not that hard. A light smell of smoke lingers around him; the last button of his shirt is unbuttoned, likely because of an examination; there’s a pen sticking out of his pocket that you suspect he’s stolen off her desk; and he’s not wearing his usual travel shoes, meaning he changed since coming back to Tokyo, and knowing him, you must have been close to the top of his list of people to see, so you don’t think he went home, so Ichiji must have brought them to him at the lab.
You could easily have been wrong, of course. You just made an educated guess, and it worked out well for you.
“I found something weird out there,” he states matter-of-factly. “Didn’t need any patching up. C’mon, don’t tell me you were worried?”
You roll your eyes and push your chair back to stand up. He should have been back three days ago, and you didn’t hear from him. Not that the way your relationship works means you should have. It explicitly doesn’t.
“We don’t know what kind of curses are out there,” you say. “Anything could happen.”
“Aw,” Gojo says. “But you know I’m the strongest. I can take everything they throw at me.”
He says it with such absolute confidence that you want to believe him blindly, but all your instincts rebel at that idea. You can’t let yourself think he’s invincible. You can’t make your plans based on that idea. There’d be too much to lose if— if—
“With how gloomy you look, it’s hard to think you’re happy to see me,” Gojo pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get a warm welcome back…”
You scoff, fighting the smile that wants to break on your face, then make to move past him. You have no intention of actually leaving of course, but you know that—
Of course, the second he thinks you’re getting away from him, he grabs your wrist and twirls you around and into him. His arm wraps around your waist smoothly, presses your chest against his.
“Really? You’re not even a little bit happy?” He says it lightly, but you don’t miss the very light twinge of annoyance in his voice.
You like to think that you are one of the few people that can get a rise out of him.
It goes both way, of course, but now that you’re in his arms, after a week without touching him, anger and fear melt away all too easily, and all you want is him.
You put both of your arms around his neck, and push yourself on your tiptoes to capture his lips. There is a second during which he remains still, as if unsure, no matter how unlike him that would be. It’s like you don’t have him back yet, like there’s a part of him, of his mind, that is still out there with the curses.
But the moment passes, and then he’s kissing you feverishly. He pushes you back until you hit your desk, then helps lift you on top of it. The papers you’ve filled so dutifully fall to the floor, but he doesn’t care and neither do you. His warm tongue meets yours and you feel small moans escaping you, which he swallows hungrily. One of his hands sneaks under your shirt, the other pushes up your long skirt as he lifts up one of your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.
You burry your hand in his hair, try to pull him closer to you, because fuck, you’ve missed him, you’ve missed the weight of his body on yours, and you want him, you need him to be as close as possible. He groans inside your mouth, and when your other hand moves down to trace his jaw, his neck, the muscles of his shoulders, before trying to unbutton his shirt, it turns into a full whimper.
Unfortunately, that sound also brings you back to reality, and while your body is an inferno right now, you feel your cheeks heating up even more.
“Wait, wait, Gojo—”
“Satoru,” he almost growls. Now that you’re trying to speak, he presses open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, then down your neck, sucking and biting lightly at the skin.
“Satoru,” you whine, left with no strength nor desire to fight him on that, “we shouldn’t— students could—”
“They’ve gone home,” he dismisses your worries easily. “None of them are going to show up here at this time.”
He’s hooking his fingers in your panties now, trying to slide them down your legs, but you catch his arm first. You’re quite the spectacle, breathless and panting, clothes half off. Even then, there’s that serious light in your eyes that just has him weak in the knees.
“Yaga— Yaga could—”
“If you think about it, that’d be doing him a favor,” Satoru hums. “Would give him some really, really good material, if you ask me.”
He doesn’t add that the material in question is all his, and that he’d never let Yaga catch you in the act, just for that reason. He doesn’t have to, because his answer makes you laugh softly.
You always laugh for him.
“He better not find us,” you warn him, as your grasp on his arm relaxes.
“Hm, that shouldn’t be a problem, as long as a certain someone can keep quiet…”
You roll your eyes, and then you pull him back down against your lips to interrupt his laugh.
He manages to get your panties out of the way, and then pushes a long finger inside you. You’re already so wet for him, he marvels as it slides in easily. He soon follows it with a second one, spreading you open carefully, and that’s when you throw your head back, closing your eyes and pushing your hand against your mouth to muffle your moan.
“So you’ve really missed me, huh?” he can’t help but tease as he chases your mouth. He’d love nothing more than to hear you loud and clear, but he knows you won’t risk it, no matter how empty the school is right now.
Underneath him, your body trembles, and he can’t resist any longer. He pulls his blindfold out of the way, drinking in the most beautiful sight he’s ever beholden. You’re trying your best not to let the pleasure get to you, but even then, you manage to open an eye to look at him, and you’re met with the stunning blue eyes you wish you could see more often. Something softens inside you, and you reach up to touch his cheek.
“Of course I’ve missed you,” you answer.
Shit. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this up. He’s already rock hard and all he’s done is rock against you. He wanted to take his time with you tonight, because all he’s had the past week is the memory of you, and that’s nowhere near enough, but it’s not looking like he will last that long.
“Yeah?” he insists as his thumb finds your clit and he starts rubbing carefully. “Thought about me while I was gone?”
You let out a loud cry, manage to cover your mouth again before another one comes out. Your thighs are trembling around him, and fuck, he’s going to have to fuck you real soon, otherwise he’s just going to burst in his pants without you even touching him, at this point.
“I’ve thought of you,” he tells you as he pulls his fingers out of you to get rid of his pants. “Thought of how good you feel around me, of how good you sound for me, of how pretty you are when you’re bouncing on my cock…”
He guides his cock against your entrance, presses it against you. You buck your hips, unable to stop yourself, but he doesn’t give it to you, not just yet.
“You really want it that bad, don’t you?” he practically purrs.
“Satoru,” you whine, and oh, if you knew what it does to him when you say his name like that… “don’t make me b— Ah!”
Finally satisfied, he sheathes himself fully inside of you, and fuck, it’s all he’s been dreaming of for days now. Next time he swears he’ll come running back to you the second he’s done with the stupid assignment. You reach up for him and he lets you, lets you dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you bury your face in his neck to stifle your moans. His hips set up a lazy pace at first, and you try your best to follow, try to meet him with small movements of your own, before you feel his breath against your ear.
“It’s all good,” he says warmly. “Just let me take care of you, babe. I’ve got you.”
That’s when he picks up the pace, and you’re left to writhe underneath him, whimpering his name desperately against his skin like a prayer, Satoru, Satoru, Satoru!
You come, shaking, around him when he brings his fingers to your clit once more, and he doesn’t lose a second of it. The high-pitched moan that you just can’t hold in, the way your head falls back, how your thighs shake on either side of him, it’s all so perfect. You’re perfect.
He does his best to let you ride your orgasm on his cock, but he comes inside you just a couple seconds later, unable to last longer. He collapses on top of you, and your labored breathing fills the room. Your hand on his back moves gently, tracing circles on the nape of his neck, gently running through his hair.
“If you’re not down for a round two just yet, I recommend you stop that,” he mumbles against you, only to regret it immediately, because you do stop.
“We should— we should take this elsewhere,” you say quietly.
Ah, now that’s more like it.
“I can call Ichiji and we could do that in the back of the car on the way home,” he offers cheerfully as he gets up, putting the blindfold back in place, though not before he can see you grimace in horror at his suggestion.
“Absolutely not,” you say firmly, though once more, he was only teasing. He’d never let Ichiji see you like that. “Although, if you could call someone to come clean up in here, just, uh, just in case…”
Cute.
“Done. Now, about that round two…”
“Else. Where,” you insist, and you don’t fall for his cute pout.
He sighs but takes your hand to help you to your feet, then turns around as he pulls out his phone. He’s about to hit Ichiji’s number when your fingers on his skin almost bring a shiver out of him.
“Shouldn’t this be healing?” you ask, frowning, and he realizes you’re talking about the marks you’ve left on his back.
“Nah, I quite like them, actually,” he grins back. “Don’t you?”
There’s a lot of unsaid things that hang between the two of you. A lot of things that are better left unsaid. Sadly, you’re too smart for your own good, and you know better. You leave them be.
“I was worried for you,” is what do you say.
Satoru’s expression shifts. The grin vanishes, and you can’t see his eyes, so you’re not sure how he’s feeling, not until the corner of his lips lift up in a soft smile.
“Thank you,” he says, voice uncharacteristically low.
Then he turns away from you, and he’s as loud and boisterous as ever when Ichiji answers.
Of course. The strongest can’t let himself grow soft.
You bend down to pick up your papers, rearrange them neatly on the desk, eyes still on him, on the animated way he moves around the room.
You think you’re more grateful than he knows, for him being back here. Not because he’s the strongest, not because no one gets rid of a curse like he can, but because he’s Satoru. It’s probably better that way, though. You’re both too busy for distractions.
With a sigh, you put your papers back on the desk, then start moving towards the exit.
“Aren’t we going?” you ask Satoru right as you’re reaching the door.
You watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows.
“Hope you wrote all that down, ‘cause I need to get out of here,” he says on the phone, and you hear Ichiji protest, but that doesn’t stop Satoru from hanging up unceremoniously. He follows you in the hallway, shoulders brushing against yours without quite touching.
“Hey, if not in the car, there’s a supply closet on the first floor—”
“No.”
“Yaga’s office is probably—”
“Absolutely not.”
“How about in my bed?” he asks, right against your ear, breath tickling against your skin. Your cheeks heat up.
“…Sure.”
He only savors his victory for a second.
“What about the couch?”
“Don’t push it.”
But he does, and you let him.
How could you not, when you finally have him back?
still trying to get used to writing gojo's character, don't know if i quite have him just yet. i hope you enjoyed this, any feedback you have is welcomed and encouraged! reblogs and comments are what keeps me writing, so please engage with my work to let me know if you'd like to see more~
if you enjoy my writing, you can find more gojo x reader here
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo imagine#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru smut#satoru smut#gojo fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x y/n#my writing
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Crush
Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female (Oneshot)
Summary: Months ago Aemond hesitated to tell you how he felt. After your boyfriend breaks up with you, he won't make that mistake again.
Word Count: 3807
Warnings: MDNI, 18+, SMUT, Little plot, lots of smut, profanity, Size kink, Praise kink, Aemond being hot, seductive, funny, and adorable.
Personal Favorite 💖
Masterlist
‘Why the hell did I let them talk me into coming to this club?'
You know your friends are only trying to help you get through a rough breakup. “It’s time to stop moping and sitting around in your pj’s,” they tell you. “You need to get dressed up, go out, and have some fun,” they insist. So you give in, pampering yourself with a full beauty routine, choosing a racy bra and panty set, and putting together a little black outfit.
Checking yourself in the mirror before you leave, feeling better than you have in the past two weeks, with some of your old confidence coming back knowing that you look good. When your little trio walks into the packed club, you’re glad your friends talked you into coming out tonight, instantly feeling the intoxicating energy from the flashing lights, pulsing music, and dancing crowd.
Snagging a spot at the bar, you buy the first round of drinks, genuinely smiling for the first time since your boyfriend broke up with you. You’re enjoying your second drink and playfully teasing one of your friends when you spot him on the dance floor. Your now-ex-boyfriend who has his hands on his new girlfriend’s ass.
Wanting to act like it doesn’t hurt, you let your friends drag you out to dance. You try to enjoy yourself; you really do, but now the music is too loud, the club is too hot, and you just want to get off the dance floor. Giving your friends a weak smile, you let them know you need a break from dancing and head back to the bar.
Squeezing into a gap at the crowded bar, you try to catch the bartender's attention. While you wait, your mind goes back to your ex-boyfriend. Even though the spark between you was fading, the breakup came out of nowhere. How quickly he had another girlfriend led you to think he may have been cheating on you. So strong was your suspicion, you went to get tested just to be safe. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ you tell yourself. ‘It’s over, and you’re better off without him,’ you try to convince yourself, but it still hurts to be replaced so easily.
You’re drawn from your thoughts when a drink is placed in front of you. When you look up, the bartender says, “It’s from the guy at the end of the bar.”
Turning to look in the direction she’s pointing, you see the buyer of your drink, his long silvery white hair an easy giveaway to his identity. With a tilt of his head, he motions for you to join him.
You’re relieved to see a friendly face, so you don’t hesitate to pick up your drink and make your way over to him. With a genuine smile, “Hi Aemond, I didn’t see you over here.”
Aemond Targaryen returns your smile and immediately offers you his seat at the crowded bar. “Fortunately, I did see you.”
“Thank you, and thanks for the drink too,” you tell him as you slide onto the stylishly modern barstool, draping your leather jacket over the back.
You’ve known the Targaryen siblings for about a year, with Helaena being the one you met first. Since you were new in town, she took you under her wing, showing you the best places to hang out and eat and introducing you to people, including her brothers. Aegon is laid-back with a great sense of humor. He’s also quite a flirt, but a playful smack from his sister made it clear that you were her friend and not to be messed with.
Aemond, who’s a few months younger than you, is very different. Nowhere near as open as Hel and far more serious than Aegon, he's always intrigued you. He’s soft-spoken and reticent, holding back much of who he is, and that makes him difficult to read. You think that guardedness stems from a childhood accident that cost him an eye and left his face scarred.
For a while, you wondered if he liked you at all or if he was just trying to be nice because of Hel. But at parties, your boyfriend usually ended up playing games with Aegon and the guys, and you somehow ended up hanging with Aemond, just talking. Having those chances to talk one-on-one, you discover quick intelligence, a wry sense of humor, and a few shared interests. You decide that he’s just naturally reserved—someone who needs time to relax around people.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad I saw you,” he says, leaning down a bit to be heard better. “You look amazing."
Smiling at the compliment, “You clean up pretty good yourself."
While you’ve struggled to get a handle on his personality, there is no question in your mind regarding his looks. Dressed in black, his button-down shirt and trousers look tailored to his tall and trim build, he exudes sleek athleticism. His casually rolled-up sleeves show off his slender forearms, a stylish, expensive watch on his wrist, and beautiful, large hands with long, slim fingers. His angular face has chiseled features that give him a uniquely handsome appearance. Not even the faded scar or black leather eye patch can detract from his striking good looks. Tonight, his pale, silvery hair is simply pulled back into a loose braid that ends between his shoulder blades.
Taking a sip of your drink, you give him a curious look. “I’m surprised to see you here. Let me guess, Aegon dragged you out and then disappeared in search of something in a short skirt and heels."
“Are we that predictable?” He asks with a crooked grin. “Aegon wanted to meet up with some pretty little thing he’s had his eye on, and I apparently need to get out more.” Reaching for his own drink, ”What’s your story?”
“Some friends decided I needed a night out,” you admit sheepishly. As you answer, you see your ex-boyfriend back on the dance floor.
Aemond, noticing your stare, turns to see who you are looking at. He then moves around to stand between you and the dance floor, blocking them from your view. “Forget about him; he’s not worth it.”
You look down at your hands folded in your lap, trying to push down the hurt you feel when he urges your chin up with his fingers. He looks at you intensely and says, “Don’t cry over that asshole. You deserve far better than the likes of him, babe.”
Meeting his gaze, you nod your head and pull yourself together. ”You’re right. It may take some time, but I’ll be fine.” You down the rest of your drink with a determined smile.
Before you can stop him, Aemond somehow manages to catch the busy bartender’s attention and motions for another round of drinks. When you protest, he leans closer, putting his arm around you and resting his hand on your shoulder. “I’m taking care of you tonight, pretty girl.”
“You'll be better than fine, and it won’t take as long as you think,” he continues with a cocky little smile. “You just need someone who knows how to treat you."
A little jolt goes through your body; whether it’s from the heat of his hand resting on your exposed shoulder or the difference in his demeanor, you’re not sure. This is a more confident and assertive Aemond that you haven’t seen before, and the little nicknames are completely new.
But unsure of your instincts, you jokingly say, “Yeah, some day my prince will come.”
“Hmm. Maybe he already has, princess,” he replies before leaning very close to you, his lips almost brushing against your ear. “I’ve always had a crush on you, always wanted you.”
His words cause a flutter in your chest. When he takes hold of your hand and starts rubbing his thumb on your skin, your breath catches in your throat. “You never said anything." is all you can manage to get out as you turn your head to look at him in surprise.
“That was a mistake I‘m not making again."
Your faces are only inches apart; you’re studying him with wide eyes while your mind races to process this new revelation. The sounds of the club disappear; all you can hear is the pounding of your heart. Closing the slight distance between you, his lips barely brush against yours before pausing, waiting for a signal from you to continue. When your lips instinctively part, he takes that as the go-ahead to kiss you slowly.
His mouth is soft and hot, and his tongue running along your bottom lip feels so good. He pulls back much too soon for your liking, now that passion has sparked inside you. When you impulsively reach to wipe a trace of your lipstick from his mouth, he quickly captures your thumb, drawing it into his mouth, licking and sucking on the tip before releasing it with a kiss.
As warmth rushes through your body, you can feel your skin tingling. The thinking part of your brain tells you this is a bad idea; it’s too soon after your breakup and too impulsive. But the seductive look on his face, the breaking of physical barriers, and his admission of wanting you has started a throbbing between your legs.
Since you’re still stunned silent, he takes the initiative. “Tell me what's going on in that pretty little head of yours."
Biting your bottom lip, trying to sort your thoughts, you ask, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
Aemond’s mouth tightens at the question, “I wasn’t sure if the attraction was mutual or if you just saw me as Hel’s kid brother. So I hesitated.” He looks away from you before adding, “Then you met him."
Knowing that opening himself up to others is not easy for him, you gently squeeze his hand in encouragement because you’re raw from your breakup and you need to know just what you could be getting yourself into with Aemond.
Shrugging his shoulders. "You seemed happy, and I thought I blew my chance with you.”
Little things about your friendship start to click in your mind, bringing a smile to your face. Now you’re the one holding his hand, rubbing circles with your thumb on his skin.
With a hopeful smile, he asks, “Can we get out of here?”
His request makes your heart thump in your chest, and you shift your hips in your seat before asking, “Where to?”
“My place?” Quickly adding, “We could talk some more or..." leaning close to your ear, his voice dropping lower with desire. “I could show you how much I want you, princess.”
Deep down, you’ve always loved the sound of his voice, and this new seductive tone causes a shiver to go up your spine despite the heat that is spreading through your body. Almost before you realize you're doing it, you’re slipping off the barstool, hoping your legs won’t shake.
Steadying yourself with a light hand on his chest and smiling up at him, you take a breath and say, “Alright, we can go... talk.”
Your reply earns you a rare, dimpled grin from him. He helps you slip on your jacket before firmly grasping your hand to begin leading you through the crowd to the exit. On your way out, you pass a grinning Aegon, but Aemond only glances at his brother, not bothering to stop.
Once outside, in the chill night air, he puts his arm around you as you walk through the parking lot. “You’re just going to ditch Aegon?” You ask with a chuckle.
“He knows what I’m up to,” he replies with a smirk. Laughing at your expression. “Aegon would get your boyfriend to play those stupid games at his parties so I could have some time with you.”
Reaching his car, he pulls you into a slow, deep kiss, holding you close to him with his large hands on your hips. Soon you’re fisting at the soft, expensive fabric of his shirt because it feels so fucking good kissing him, feeling him press his hard body against yours. You let his tongue tease its way past your lips to dance with yours as his fingers dig into your skin before he reluctantly pulls back to open the car door for you.
During the drive to his place, you text your friends, reassuring them that you are with Aemond and that everything is fine.
Curious about something, “So when Helaena would suggest a girls movie night, but we would end up at your place, you put her up to that?”
“I did not; she volunteered to do that.”
“My friend sets me up so her brother can walk around like a slut in sweatpants and a messy man bun. Wow, you Targs are something else,” you laughingly tease.
“I was desperate, pretty girl." His blush was visible even in the dim light of the car. “But you noticed,” he chuckles.
Aemond’s apartment is in one of the pricier buildings in the city, but you know his family has money. You’ve been here before, hanging out with the siblings for movie nights. Before you can even toe off your heels by the door, he pulls you to him with one arm around your waist, burying his face in your neck, nipping at your skin, then soothing the little bites with his tongue, making you moan softly.
“Wanted you so bad for so long,” he murmurs between little wet kisses over your throat.
Playfully, you tease him while tugging on his long braid. “Have you been thinking dirty thoughts about me all this time?”
“Fucking filthy thoughts,” as he crushes his lips against yours in a demanding kiss that takes your breath away. You both work to shrug your jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. You can feel the wetness forming between your legs as his long fingers caress the bare skin of your waist.
Pulling his shirt up, your hands explore the lean muscles of his flawless skin. When you bite at his lip, he groans into your mouth and grinds his hardening cock against you.
Trailing his lips down your neck, “Tell me you want me. I need to hear it," he pleads.
“I want you, Aemond; I want you to fuck me,” you moan breathlessly.
With your words, the last shred of restraint either of you had disappeared. By the time the two of you reach his bedroom, both of you are half naked, leaving a trail of clothing and shoes along your path.
“Fucking gorgeous tits,” he mumbles against your hardend nipple before taking it into his hot mouth again, sucking eagerly. Your other breast is being cupped in his strong hand, his fingers teasing the delicate peak. “Perfect tits all for me,” he hums as he switches to begin lavishing the other with attention.
His loose braid is long undone, and your fingers are tangled in his silky, soft hair. You can’t resist the urge to bait him a little. “You think just ‘cause you lick it, it's yours?”
His eye immediately shoots up to your face, and you feel a rough hum against your skin. Backing you up until your legs bump into his bed, he playfully pushes you down on the mattress.
“Aemond?” You squeak as you see the evil gleam in his eye. Kneeling on the floor, he pulls your legs to the edge of the bed and presses his face between them, rubbing his nose over your covered clit and inhaling deeply.
Resting on your elbows, you watch him tug down your panties, leaving you naked. He pushes your thighs wide with his large hands, and you see him shamelessly stare at your soaking wet pussy. “Who made you this wet, princess?"
You let out a gasp as he flattens his tongue and licks the length of your slit, never taking his eye off you. “Mine now,” he says with that familiar smirk of his.
Giving him your best, not impressed look, “It’s gonna take more than that, Targaryen.” you reply sassily. You watch him stick out his long tongue and start flicking your clit, before placing his lips over your little bundle of nerves, alternating between sucking gently and swirling his tongue over it.
Before long, you fall back on the bed, closing your eyes and giving yourself over to the wonderful sensations his mouth creates. His lips and tongue move through your folds, teasing your entrance, before returning to your swollen bud. Every little whimper or sob he pulls from you seems to spur him on. Compared to your ex, Aemond is the pussy eating champ.
Finding a rhythm that has you moaning “Fuck, you’re good at this.” He swells with pride, determined to make you a quivering mess. He relentlessly applies just the right amount of pressure on the right spots again and again. Your world is nothing but sloppy, wet sounds coming from between your legs and the orgasm building deep inside you.
When you reach down to tangle your fingers in his hair, your nails rake his scalp, causing him to moan into your pussy. "Mmm, baby, I’m close..don’t stop,” as you start to grind your hips against his mouth. Before you know it, waves of ecstasy that have your toes curling are crashing through you,leaving you shaking and breathless.
Aemond stares at your quivering pussy, watching more wetness leak from you. “You never answered my question. “Who makes you this wet? Hmm?”
Still blissed out from your orgasm, you gasp as he slides a long finger inside you. “You do, only you,” you whimper.
“That’s my pretty princess,” he coos as he adds a second finger, slowly dragging them in and out of you. “You gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy?”
‘Mmm yes,” While he rises from the floor, you move to the center of the bed, stretching contentedly and giving your legs a rest. You enjoy the sight of his erection straining against his boxers while he opens a drawer in his nightstand and pulls out a condom packet.
“Aemond, we can skip that if you want. I already got tested after the breakup; all good.
“I’m good too, promise," he says as he drops the condom back in the drawer. Lowering his boxers, he frees his hard cock. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue at his perfect size while you watch him lazily stroke himself. Just looking at him makes your pussy clench; he’s the perfect blend of beauty and masculinity.
“Do you realize how fucking gorgeous you are?” You wonder aloud, your voice smokey with your arousal, taking in the glorious details of the sight before you. From his tousled hair falling past his shoulders to his defined, lean muscles and slim hips, you think he is a work of art.
His pale skin, already flush with his own desire, colors even more down to the tip of his beautiful, long shaft. Joining you on the bed, positioning himself so he is looming over the length of your body, he lowers down to kiss you, his hair falling in a silvery curtain around your head. You can taste yourself as he plunges his tongue past your teeth, deliciously invading your mouth.
Wrapping your arms around his waist and your hands on his back, you pull him closer, wanting to feel his weight on top of you. The soft hairs on his chest and legs tickle your sensitive skin, while his cock is hot and hard against you. You part your thighs wider to let him settle between them, curling a leg around his hip.
“You ready for my cock, pretty princess?” His voice is rough with his need to be inside you when he starts moving his length between your sensitive folds, coating himself with your slick wetness.
Nodding desperately, “Mmm, yes,” you murmur, ready to start writhing beneath him.
Finding your entrance, the head of his cock slowly pushes into you, making him hiss, and he doesn't stop until he can’t go any deeper. “Fuck, you're tight around me.” Slowly, he withdraws halfway before sliding back in and holding himself steady. Giving you a cocky grin, “I think you’re used to something smaller being in you.”
You know it’s true. You’ve never felt this full before, so wonderfully stretched. Your eyes go wider, and a moan escapes you when he gives a more forceful, deep thrust into you.
“Hmm, I’m right,” he smirks knowingly. His muscles flexing with each snap of his hips.
Sensing that he eats up praise the way he eats pussy, you’re happy to give him what he wants. “Fuck, you’re big; it feels so good.” Each time his cock hits that sweet spot inside you, a little jolt of exquisite pleasure goes through you, and you grip his hips harder, raking your nails along his skin.
“So beautiful.” He’s captivated by the sight of your tits bouncing as he pounds into you. “Taking all of me so well, princess.” He coos as he hooks an arm under your knee, the new angle causing more friction against your patch of nerves as he somehow picks up his pace.
“Close, so close,” you whimper. It’s not long before the tightened coil suddenly snaps, making you cum hard with an earth-shattering orgasm that leaves your body shaking.
Your pussy clenching around him starts to send him over his own edge. His balls tightening as he keeps fucking you through your climax. His release leaves him grunting and shuddering as his cock twitches and spurts hot cum deep inside you.
Both of you are left reeling as Aemond rolls off and flops on his side next to you. He gently gathers you into his arms, pulling you close and burying his face in your hair.
You can hear his soft hum of satisfaction, and you can feel his heartbeat against your hand on his chest as you lie in his arms, both of you trying to catch your breath.
“You good, princess?” He asks and gives you a soft kiss on your forehead with your contented sigh of "yes." Soon you both force yourselves from the too-comfortable bed to clean up. When you come out of the bathroom, Aemond gives you a soft, well-worn t-shirt to put on while he is already wearing gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips, no shirt, and his hair is up in a messy bun, earring a muttered, ”Slut,” from you.
“How come I call you princess, and apparently my nickname is 'Slut'? he teasingly asks.
“Awww, would you rather I call you ‘Prince Aemond'? You come back with mock sarcasm.
Grinning, “Prince Aemond, I like that.” Laughing when you roll your eyes at him, he heads to the kitchen for water and snacks for both of you.
#aemond targaryen#aemond smut#aemond#modernaemond#modern aemond#aemond fanfic#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x reader#aemond x y/n
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Trust
[The Ghoul x Fem!Chubby!Reader]
Summary: Cooper finds out you're a virgin and helps you out.
Warnings: NS//FW, MINORS DNI, Vaginal Fingering, Oral (f! receiving), pet names (sweetheart, darling), Soft!Cooper (because i said so), slightly insecure!reader, plus size reader, p in v, first time sex, potentially established relationship (you can read it however you want), no protection, creampie (don't worry, you have radaway), not proofread (im friendless)
Word Count: 2.6k
A/N: I just jumped into this, it wasn't even supposed to be this long... also please go easy on me, I'm still watching the show since I've been busy. And haven't written actual smut in months... SIDENOTE, i'm plus size/chubby so that's what I always envision when writing, but this is explicitly written with that in mind! Thanks, hope you enjoy!!
“C’mon, darlin’,” Cooper drawls out. His gloved hands roam up your arms, his lips are pressed to your neck. “I can feel your heartbeat…” His lips stop on your pulse. You can feel your heart pounding into your rib cage.
“Cooper?” You’re breathless, really. In a good way. But, fear comes creeping in. Cooper hums, telling you he’s listening. “I’m a virgin.” You are tense.
Cooper’s brow ridges knit together. He smiles against your skin. You feel it. He pulls away and his head drops to the side, his eyes watching you closely. You feel so… Small compared to him at the moment. Your anxiety is spiking. You breath hitches and Cooper’s smile fades.
“Sweetheart,” Cooper lets go of you, but he doesn’t back up. “We can wait, if ya aren’t ready.”
“I trust you.” You try to calm yourself. You do trust him, deeply and sincerely. You trust him more than anything. More than anyone else.
“But?” Cooper gives you a playful grin.
“What do you mean?” You cock your head.
“There’s always a but, doll. You trust me, but something else is wrong.” He states it like it’s obvious.
“Oh.” You bite the inside of your lip, nearly drawing blood. You suck in air, harshly, and fidget in your spot. “Uh, I don’t like how I look…”
Cooper’s eyes widen as you speak. He is shocked. Completely and utterly shocked. “Darlin’… You are one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Cooper’s hands stay at his side, but you can tell he wants to touch you, guide you… Ruin you. “We don’ have t’ do this right now,” He reassures, “or ever- But, if ya want-” Cooper leans in closer, his face inches from yours. “-I can show ya how beautiful I think you are.”
You swallow hard. “Oh?” You sound surprised. You nod. “I would like that.” You whisper, not breaking eye contact.
Cooper smirks, “Name the time and place, sweetheart-”
“Here and now.” You spit it out without thinking.
“You sure?” He hesitates to touch you again. “A hundred percent?” You nod. Cooper smiles and pulls you into a kiss. Your lips press to his eagerly and you grab onto his duster, holding onto it like a lifeline. Cooper’s lips trail down your neck and rest on your pulse again. “You really want this? I don’ need ya doin’ this just because-”
“Shut up and kiss me again.” You whine. “Please.”
Cooper does not hesitate. His lips hit yours and you kiss back eagerly. Cooper’s gloved hands roam down your sides and they rest on your hips. Your arms wrap around his neck and settle there. You are still slightly stiff, anxiety not completely subsided. Cooper makes it his goal to help relax you.
“Y’know,” he hums against your jawline, “I didn' know you could be… bratty.” You hum in return, in confusion. “You told me to shut up, darlin’.”
“I needed you to kiss me…” your eyes are shut, head lolled back.
“Oh, you needed it?” He teases. “That bad, huh?”
You whine again, from embarrassment and pleasure. “Yeah, I need you.” You state it, no questioning and somehow very confidently.
“And I need ya to look at me with demands like that.” He smirks at you. You look at him and pout. “It ain't hard, sweetie. Promise.”
You groan. Your eyes lock with his, and your face heats up, exponentially so. “I need you, Cooper. I need you to touch me, kiss me… fuck me.” You immediately cover your face. Cooper laughs. His hand reaches for yours and pulls it down, showing your face to him again.
“Darlin’, I ain't gonna hurt ya. No need to be all shy.” He kisses your jawline, up to your ear. “Now,” he whispers in your ear, “how do you need me, exactly?”
“I already stated that!”
“No, no,” Cooper nibbles your earlobe. “In detail. And look at me this time.” He pulls away from your ear and looks at you again, closer to you this time. “How do you need me?”
You let out a shaky breath. “I need you to touch me- I don't care where, or how. Please, I wanna feel your hands on my skin.”
“Atta girl,” Cooper begins to take his gloves off. “Wasn't so hard, was it?” You roll your eyes. Cooper freezes. “Did you jus-” he squints at you, before smiling. “You are a brat.”
You want to rip your hair out. “Please, Cooper. I wanna feel good…”
He removes his gloves completely. His hands touch your clothed stomach, moving to your waist. Your heart is racing again. His hands scoot down to the hem of your shirt and you don't break eye contact with him. “It's okay,” your voice is so soft, “I still trust you.”
Cooper nods. You help him get you out of your shirt. You're standing there now, just in your pants, wondering what led you to this situation. You're thankful; thankful or whatever force brought you to Cooper. His bare hands grab for your soft stomach, tracing over the stretch marks. You suck in air through your nose and look away from Cooper.
“I need you to keep your eyes on me,” Cooper moves a hand to your chin and redirects your eyes back to him. “Need to know I'm makin’ ya feel good.” You nod. “Good girl.” Cooper begins to lead you towards the bed and sits you down on the edge of it. “Now, mind if I take these off?” Cooper motions towards your pants. You shake your head and when he grabs your waistband you begin to shimmy out of them.
The cool air hits your bare legs and Cooper crouches in front of you. You instinctively shut your legs together and gasp when Cooper's hands grab at your thick thighs. He doesn't pull your legs apart, not immediately. He watches you, examining your current expression, before continuing.
“Still okay?” He questions you. As soon as you nod, he gently pulls at your legs and you relax. He positions himself between your thighs and begins kissing your skin. One of his hands moves towards your panties. He rubs a stripe up your clothes pussy and you bite back a moan. Cooper pulls away from your thigh and looks at you. “Already so wet…”
“All for you. Only for you.” You mumble. Cooper gives you a hungry look. Your stomach flips. He's grabbing at the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your legs in no time. The look in his eyes is something you're sure you've never seen before. Your skin is on fire and you do not want him to stop touching you. Or staring at you that way.
Cool air hits your newly exposed skin and you shiver. Cooper's fingers dance across your thighs. “You positive this is what ya want?” You nod again, giving an enthusiastic yes. “If you need me to stop at any time, tell me.”
“Of course.” You nod and lean back slightly, getting more comfortable on the bed. Your fists automatically ball the sheets up, and Cooper lets out a low laugh. “What?”
“This is gonna be fun.” He says it like you're supposed to know what he means. You cock a brow at him. “You're so soft an’ sweet. I can assure you,” He smiles against your thigh, one of his fingers pushing inside of you, “after this, you won't want any other man or ghoul.”
And, God, do you know he’s right. His finger curls inside of you and your hips buck slightly. Cooper smiles against your thigh. Your eyes are stuck on him. Your chest is heaving already. Cooper’s thumb hits your clit and you gasp.
“Ever touch yourself, sweetheart?” Cooper asks against your thigh. When you give a shy nod, Cooper chuckles. “Bet it never felt this good, did it?” You shake your head. Cooper pulls his hand away from you and you tense at the warmth leaving you. “I’m assumin’ ya’ve never never been tasted, hm?” You want to hide, you shake your head again. “Gonna make ya feel so good,” Cooper promises. You know it’s a promise.
Cooper dives in, his tongue pushes into you and licks up your pussy. He groans as he tastes you. His hands grip your hips tighter and you wince. Cooper mumbles something into you about how good you taste and your hips roll. He holds you still. You let out a whine and beg for me. And who is Cooper to deny you of that?
His tongue swirls around your clit and, this time, two fingers push into you. Your palms dig into the bed sheets in your fists and you let out a soft cry from pleasure. Cooper hums against you and fire is building in your core. You go to roll your hips again and Cooper holds you down, hips pinned to the bed. His finger curls up and pumps in and out of you. You are immediately sent over the edge.
“Ah!” You moan, your voice breaking, “Cooper- I’m-”
Cooper pulls away, his fingers staying inside of you. “I know,” His voice is gruff as he places a kiss on your thigh. “I got ya,” His fingers pull from you and they circle your swollen bud, and your entire body is taught, every muscle tense. Your orgasm hits hard.
Your body relaxes onto the sheets and your entire world is still spinning. You are seeing stars. “Cooper-” You whimper. “Fuck-” Your fingers uncurl from your palm and drop the sheets. Cooper is smiling at you. He’s smug.
“I know, darlin’, it’s a lot.” He crawls on top of you.
“S’not fair,” You mumble, you look up at him. He cocks a brow ridge. “You’re completely dressed, an’ I'm not.” You huff.
“We can change that.” Cooper places a rough kiss against your lips, before sitting up and standing. You watch as he undresses, quickly. He’s ready to get this show on the road. Your stomach flips when he’s fully naked. Your eyes widen and Cooper notices.
“Hey,” He reassures you, “I gotcha. I know this is a lot, all of this; but I’m gonna make sure you feel good.” You nod, swallowing hard. “Do you need to stop?” Cooper asks.
“No, no,” you put a hand up, “I want this, I need you.”
That seems to trigger something in Cooper. He stalks towards you and you’re frozen on the motel bed. You’re watching him closely as he positions himself over you. He holds himself steady above you, one hand on your hip and the other right beside your head. He leans down and kisses you, not as rough as he has been, but still not very gentle. Your arms wrap around his neck and you pull him close to you. His dick is resting against your stomach in that position. Your skin burns and you ache for him.
He pulls back and begins to kiss down to your collarbone. “Cooper,” You sound as breathless as you had earlier, maybe even more so. His free hand dips from your waist and to your dripping cunt once again. He pushes two fingers in you and smirks against your collarbone, nipping at the sensitive skin there.
“I think you’re ready, darlin’.” Cooper places his forehead to yours and his eyes lock with yours. “Are you ready?”
You nod enthusiastically, smiling up at him. Cooper grabs your leg and brings it up to his hip. He angles himself at your entrance and you prepare yourself. You pull him closer to you and Cooper gently pushes into you. His hips roll slightly as he settles for a second and you adjust to the new found sensation. Cooper lets out a low groan, but keeps himself still for you. Until you are ready for more.
“Please,” You whine. Your hips ever so slightly buck upwards. “Please move.”
Cooper does as you ask. How could he not? “Let me know if it’s all too much.” He speaks through gritted teeth, seemingly holding himself back from absolutely wrecking you. You quickly nod, quietly mumbling and begging for more. Cooper slightly picks up his pace, but not too much. You look so breakable beneath him. He does not want to hurt you.
Cooper lets out low huffs and groans as his hips roll into yours. You grab at his scarred back and cry out in pleasure. Your half lidded eyes hit Cooper’s and you moan, loudly. The sound of skin hitting skin echoing throughout the motel room.
“You think-” You moan again, “You think Lucy can hear us?” You are embarrassed at the thought of someone hearing the both of you. Especially your wasteland companion.
“Fuck-” Cooper slams into you a little more harsh than you had expected, causing you to cry out again. “I don’t care.”
Your head rolls back before you can argue with him, your eyes screwing shut. You feel tears brimming your eyes. You’re a moaning mess under Cooper. “Harder-” You almost choke on the word. “Fuck me harder.” Your voice is sharp, and a little louder than before.
“O’ course sweetheart,” Cooper grips the sheet beside your head and your leg wraps around his waist a little tighter. Cooper looks wild as his hips slam into yours. Everytime he pulls back your hips chase his.
“I’m gonna- I’m close-” You’re almost crying.
Cooper’s grip moves from your thigh and to your ass, grabbing it hard. You gasp. The same heat from earlier is coming back. Your body is tensing and your toes curl up. You are saying nothing but a string of ‘Cooper’, ‘shit’, and ‘fuck’. Thoughts aren’t forming. You are okay with that if it means feeling this good.
Cooper focuses on you. Each thrust seems to go deeper and your mind is blank. Your breathing is fast and ragged. Your chest is heaving up and down. You clench around Cooper and come undone. Cooper slows down, but does not stop.
“Where?” Cooper growls against your neck.
“Inside.” It’s the first thing you think of, forgetting he’s a ghoul.
Cooper doesn’t seem to think much about it either as his thrusts become sloppy. A low groan escapes Cooper, his thrusts speeding up before he orgasms himself. You feel him cum inside of you. You lie on the bed under him, catching your breath, as he falls on top of you. He’s still inside.
“Cooper?” Your voice is almost hoarse. Cooper doesn’t move, but he gives a soft ‘hm’. “I might need my RadAway.” You laugh a little bit. Cooper sits up and hurries towards your bag. He pulls out the RadAway and brings it back to you. You lazily take it and lay back on the bed. You pat beside you and Cooper narrows his eyes. “What now?” You huff.
“How much of that you got?” He points to the RadAway.
You shrug. “Why?” You ask, really having no clue.
“Well, the night’s young, sweetheart. And I ain’t done if you ain’t.” You light up. “I have a lot I could show ya.”
You are excited all over again. “Relax with me a minute,” you bat your eyelashes at him, “and then, I promise, I’m all yours til the break of dawn.” That’s all Cooper needs to hear. He lied down beside you and begins to kiss your neck. “What are you doing?”
“Helpin’ you relax.” He states, as if it’s so obvious. “And gettin’ you ready for round two.”
You laugh. “Okay, whatever,” You playfully roll your eyes.
“We’re gonna have to handle that.” Cooper grips your hip. “You bein’ a brat and all.” Cooper nips at your neck, you let out a gasp. “I think I know just how to do that, too.” He smiles against you. “And we have all night to find out.”
#fallout#fallout smut#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard smut#the ghoul smut#fallout imagine#fallout tv series#x reader
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Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching
dbf!Joel x f!reader
Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.
Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.
Word Count: 3.8k
Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).
This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!
Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!
Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist
“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”
“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.
“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”
Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”
“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”
“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”
“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”
“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.
Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.
“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.
“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”
Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”
Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.
Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?
Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.
A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.
“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.
“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”
A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”
Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.
Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.
“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.
“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.
“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.
“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”
His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.
You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.
“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.
“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.
A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.
Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.
Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.
“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”
My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?
The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.
“I love you, Joel.”
You loved him.
What did he ever do to deserve something like that?
Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.
He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.
I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.
I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.
I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.
I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.
Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.
“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”
Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.
Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.
His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.
“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”
He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.
Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.
The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.
He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.
His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.
“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.
“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.
Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.
With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”
Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.
His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.
Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.
“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.
It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”
Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.
“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”
Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.
“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.
“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”
The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.
He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.
Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.
Oh shit.
You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.
“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”
You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.
“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”
You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”
Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”
Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”
Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”
Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”
The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.
“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.
“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.
“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”
Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.
“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”
Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”
tbc
Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx
@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr
@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg
@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby
@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981
@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel x female reader#the last of us#tlou#dbf!joel#Fall Into Me#pedro pascal#eventual smut#mutual pining#idiots in love
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Oo! Oo! Drabble requests? Hhhh you already have a Barbatos request, but I'd love "Why won't you let me help you?" with him. If you're not feeling more Barb, though, maybe "Why are you wearing my skirt?" with Levi? No worries if neither of those work for you, and thank you for considering!
Heey!! Thank you for the request.💜 I hope you enjoy the quick drabble!
Remember guys, clothes doesn't define your gender/sexuality. Be free to be who you are. 💗
Why are you wearing my skirt? ♡︎ 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ
Gender-Neutral MC༘ ⋆｡˚
📌 TW: Mentions of crossdressing.
It had been an incredibly stressful day. Lord Diavolo had tasked MC with assisting in the paperwork for the exchange program, keeping them at RAD until late. Hurriedly, they made their way to the House of Lamentation, desperately hoping to find solace in a warm bath. But as luck would have it, upon their arrival, they discovered an unexpected visitor in their room: an otaku, engrossed in trying out the human's outfits.
"Goodness gracious," MC exclaimed, their gaze fixed on Leviathan, who was adorned in thigh-high socks and a skirt. Upon closer inspection, it was unmistakably their clothing. "Why are you wearing my skirt?"
The demon gasped and squealed, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he met MC's gaze with flushed cheeks. "I... I was just curious," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "You always look so good in it. I wanted to try it too."
"Wow..." MC stood transfixed, their breath catching in their throat as they admire the unexpected display before them. Time seemed to slow as they absorbed every detail, from the way Leviathan hesitantly donned their clothing to the flush that painted his cheeks with a delicate hue.
As Leviathan's self-consciousness enveloped him, his demeanor faltered, and his gaze descended to the floor in anticipation of MC's potential disapproval. "I know... I'm not pretty enough for this," he confessed, his voice tinged with vulnerability, his tail betraying his inner turmoil with agitated sways. It was a moment of raw honesty, where his insecurities laid bare, seeking reassurance and acceptance from the one whose opinion mattered most.
"What?" MC stepped forward, their voice soft. "Of course you are, Levi. Your uniqueness, your authenticity—that's what makes you truly captivating. You are the most charming demon I know. You should try the blue one." With gentle sincerity, they reached out, their touch a tender affirmation of acceptance as they offered a comforting pat on his shoulder.
His eyes shimmered with a mixture of relief and gratitude, reflecting the warmth of MC's unwavering support. With renewed confidence, Leviathan exchanged the skirt for the one they suggested. As the fabric draped around him, a surge of excitement coursed through his veins, the notion of embracing such "feminine" attire awakening a thrilling sense of liberation and self-discovery. It was… Arousing.
"Yes, this one is perfect, Levi," MC declared, their eyes lingering on him admiringly. "You're such a pretty boy, dressed so perfectly for me."
With a gentle caress, MC's fingertips brushed against Leviathan's cheeks, their touch a delicate expression of affection and understanding. They sigh softly as their lips met in a tender kiss. Leviathan's heart fluttered with a mixture of surprise and longing, his blush deepening as he savored the warmth of their embrace.
It felt so good not being judged.
Drabble prompts you can use in your requests!
#obey me#obey me shall we date#omswd#obey me one master to rule them all#evllsposts#obey me writing#obey me drabble#obey me fluff#obey me levi#obey me leviathan#obey me swd#obey me writings#obey me x mc#obey me x reader#leviathan om#obey me levi x mc#leviathan x mc#obey me scenarios#evllsasks
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seeing how some greens act like rhaenyra being groomed by her uncle, and subsequently being unable to let go of him, is HER personal failure turned me into a rhaenyra extremist when i simply enjoyed her character beforehand.
im really glad you're speaking about it because even though it's fiction, it still perpetuates a very dangerous rhetoric
wait this gives me an excuse to ramble, pls excuse me if i phrase things maybe a little crassly here, it’s a delicate topic i’m speaking indelicately about but also, i think i should be allowed bc [redacted] BUT-
obviously i don’t like, love, some of the changes to the show but i think the first half does a great job of setting it up to where you can see both alicent and rhaenyra are surrounded exclusively by much older men who want to fuck them, and have just no way of knowing who is being genuine with them. because no one is really! so you have episode 4, where alicent is sleeping in a room with pornographic art on the wall and being called to her husband’s bed and she can’t say no, and he’s not going to do anything to make the whole thing even marginally easier for her. and then you have rhaenyra, pulled from her bed by her uncle to a brothel, and she’s completely exposed, and she’s experiencing new things, and he’s purposefully trying to make this feel good but also overwhelming for her, then abandons her drunk & confused & half naked. this is The Same Thing - they’re both being used and manipulated by a much older man, but because that manipulation looks different, they react different. but it’s still manipulation.
yes, the type of abuse is different when it’s like, your ugly ancient grandpa grooming you vs a handsome 30 year old stranger you met online that you tell all your high school friends is your boyfriend, but ultimately, both the grandpa and the 30 year old boyfriend are abusers but more importantly, the granddaughter and the high schooler are both victims!!! i think a lot of people when analyzing this whole thing, will pin daemon as a groomer but then completely forget that this also makes rhaenyra a victim. some people will even hee hee haw haw over it because “oh your feminist icon would rather marry her groomer uncle than her gay cousin in the book” DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF. could it possibly be that rhaenyra prefers daemon to laenor because daemon has manipulated her into thinking she is only free with him? she is only safe with him?? could it possibly be that he has been giving her gifts and taking physical liberties with her for her whole life, and being the Good Cop, Sweet Confidant to her parents Bad Cop her whole life, that she feels taken in by him because he is all she knows???? in the same vein that alicent just swallows all the poison and bullshit from otto because that’s her father, and his protection is all she knows????
honestly part of like ~the discourse~ that’s most frustrating is that most greens just refuse to see rhaenyra’s pov or see that she’s also a grooming victim grasping for power to protect her own children, again just like alicent, but on the flip side, most of the analysis from the blacks side is like “if you think nyra is a victim of grooming you are just as bad as the people calling her a whore for having children out of wedlock” and like, how do you even engage with that. with either of those opinions. you can’t wksjd so if youre, ya know, like a normal fucking person who can see how both girls are being manipulated, but you have like a fondness for nyra specifically, it’s just constant bad takes. there’s nowhere to go to escape the bad takes.
i thought we had already hashed out this idea that being aware or unaware of your victimhood doesn’t suddenly mean you’re not being oppressed during the main show with arya and sansa but no, we’ve actually just taken this exact same annoying fandom discourse about which teenage girl is dealing with being abused in the most acceptable way and made it a thousand times worse.
#and like the ~analysis~ side will be like ‘nyra is a dumb bitch for trusting daemon’ but if you said that about ali and larys you’d get shot#and i’m not even exaggerating the way people talk about her it’s always this ‘she should have known better’ HOW#if u get that ali couldn’t have ever known better when it comes to her own kids. why does this not apply to nyra.#perhaps………….it is bc you cannot concieve of her as anything but the aggressor.#asks#anons
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I have thought on Jadzia Dax from Star Trek Deep Space 9.
I'm currently rewatching the show (midway season 2), probably my 4th watch through over 8 years? My first time with slightly more youtube-essay-driven media analysis skills. I'm enjoying picking up on a lot more things than I used to but there's one thing that bugs me above all else.
Jadzia Dax doesn't really have a strongly defined character that shines through.
I've spent a while thinking about it. Obviously as a science officer its a little harder to tell stories the audience can understand and relate to compared to Odo's murder investigating or Sisko's exasperated diplomacy, but her stories have issues greater than that.
Both the stories centred on Dax, in season 1 where she stands trial for a crime supposedly committed by a former host, and in season 2 where someone tries to steal her symbiont, are about things that happen to Dax. Not the things Dax does. She is neither the perspective character through which we can see the world of Star Trek, with her own unique views and feelings, nor is she the one actively moving the plot forwards. She's either the victim who sacrifices herselr or quite literally refuses to do anything. Unfortunately this is quite a common failing of writing that's easy to fall into, writing about a character instead of the character making decisions that drive the plot. Its one that sci fi writing at the time seemed to do quite often with a lot (but not all) female characters. Ivanova and Talia from Babylon 5 fall victim to this too, especially in early seasons. In contrast, Major Kira, and even Ezri Dax later on have stronger characterisation and are the centre of their own stories.
I doubt this was intentional, its clear through the successes of writing other characters in the show that the writers, actors, and showrunners are trying to make everyone alive and meaningful, so what went wrong?
Looking at Jadzia Dax's character, I think what's clearly missing is a strong drive for her character. No real desires or vulnerabilities. No questions either. To provide constrasting examples:
Odo (who gets almost too much screen time in season 1) is clearly driven by a sense of justice no matter whatever starfleet rules say. He's in constant conflict with Quark, ever vigilant, somewhat isolated from other people. No one ever asks "Why does Odo do what he does?" His motivations are clear, and they even tie it up with an extra motive that's very plot relevant: the mystery of where he comes from. All things a single episode writer can use and explore.
Major Kira has her own conflict with starfleet, her desire to do right by her own people, to get justice for Bajor, and always stand up for the underdog which creates really good stories as she struggles with her own values and constantly has to make choices that affect the story.
Bashir wants acclaim, accomplishment, romance, and also for everyone to like him. Quark wants profit without putting himself at risk. O'Brien wants to just do his job and go home to his family. Sisko wants to hold everything together with the responsibility of peace and reason on his shoulders while singlehandedly raising his son. Jake wants community, friends, and freedom in his life. Funnily enough Ezri Dax has far better drive. Trying to figure out what she wants in life, handling this enormous change and overwhelming personality, and her own lack of confidence that she's useful to anyone sometimes. She grows and changes more over the course of a season than we ever see in early seasons Jadzia.
What does Jadzia Dax want?
I think in attempting to make a wise 300 year old person who's seen everything, they accidentally wrote themselves into a corner. Jadzia has no strong motivations to do much at all. She does fine as a secondary character, and I love how her friendship with Sisko plays out on screen, but beyond being surprisingly enlightened about a lot of things as the result of age and experience there's no drive there.
And so no drive or motivation, and no stories told from her perspective. We have ourselves a problem.
I thought for a while if I could find a solution to the issue rather than just offer criticism. I originally tried writing an outline for an episode. Jadzia would be a fantastic protagonist for any wacky sci fi short story concept that required a scientist to explore, such as time travel paradoxes, simulations, weird space anomolies that do "plot relevant thing" that she would be perfectly posed to actually explore instead of "technobabble and tap console" until the problem is solved.
Then I decided that all we really needed to have a framework any writer could use is to establish a strong character motivation for her. Here's my shot at it.
Jadzia Dax, in harmony with seven lifetimes of experience, is an extremely competent twenty seven year old woman. She can almost certainly do the job of anyone on the station better than they can. Fix a computer? Better than O'Brien can. First aid? She's there and solved the issue before Julian can get there. Solve a murder? A past host was an invesigator of course she can to Odo's chagrin. She has better ideas of what Sisko can do to bring the Bajorans towards the federation. Hell she's the best representative of federation values on that station and could constantly be presenting that of the story.
Dax struggles to hold herself back when she sees her friends failing at what she can solve the problem for them. She tries not to, that's what her training tells her to do. But out here on the edge of Federation space where there's constantly lives on the line? She finds herself interfering in other people's work more and more often. She just doesn't want it do be done wrong. She pushes herself hard to do too many jobs. She doesn't sleep or eat enough while telling everyone else to take care of themselves better. After a while people start relying on her. It turns from her helping to her having those responsibilities. Pilot. Diplomat. Linguist. Researcher. Mechanic. Leader. So much emotional support for her friends because everything they're suffering she's been through herself. It becomes too much for her and you could make the core of one story her just crashing. Learning how to balance her experience with giving room to other to shine through and solve their own problems, which they're very capable of doing. There's plenty more detail to elaborate on but I think this gives a core drive and conflict that lasts a character a couple of seasons at least to explore and grow through.
I happily invite thoughts as to whether my original observations are astute, or wether you think there aren't any problems with how Jadzia's passivity plays out in the show. If you think there are problems, do you think my perscribed solution helps fix them? How would you go about it?
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Hello! First of all, thank you for all the amazing work that you do in this blog, it’s awesome!
I have a question, do you happen to know some good fics set in that time when Aziraphale and Crowley were in Scotland in 1827? I love that minisode.
Thank you in advance!
Hi and thank you! We have a #the resurrectionists tag so check that out. Here are some more to add...
A Gravely Good Deed by Bazzpop (T)
Aziraphale and Crowley make their way through the graveyard after the whole ‘consuming laudanum for a good cause’ debacle, when Crowley suddenly falls through the earth. Fearing that Hell has come to claim his dear friend, Aziraphale peers into the hole and is surprised by what he finds.
A Laudanum-Infused Quarrel by alienated_scheme (T)
It is 1827 Edinburgh and Aziraphale is wrestling with guilty feelings in the graveyard. Crowley's drunken singing isn't helping.
Sometimes it takes the demon a few minutes to figure out how to care for his angel.
Crossing Paths by CottonOtter (G)
'Aziraphale clasped his hands together as they started down it. He felt a pang of guilt, he felt like he was being such a bother when all he wanted was to enjoy some social time with the demon. He started, “Would be so much more convenient if we could…I don’t know… rent a room to kill the time until tomorrow.”
Crowley’s eyebrows shot up under his hat as he looked at Aziraphale. The Angel clearly hadn’t realised the implication his words could mean.'
- Just exactly what had Aziraphale and Crowley got up to that led them to visiting a graveyard in the middle of the night to make fun of Gabriels Statue? -
one more taste by Anonymous (T)
Aziraphale takes a deep breath and does so. He hopes his confidence in himself isn’t misplaced. There are a number of things he can imagine Crowley wanting as a prize (most of them probably unrealistic), and an even greater number of things Aziraphale wants to give Crowley, but not here. Not for this silly game. And if his confidence is misplaced … hopefully Crowley understands the stakes, as well. Not here. Not for this silly game.
Crowley invites Aziraphale to make fun of Gabriel's statue, but first, a date—er, picnic.
Rest by Melime (T)
After Crowley takes the laudanum, Aziraphale decides to care for him until he's recovered, and sees a vulnerable side of Crowley that's usually hidden.
Edinburgh by Depressedpenguin2 (E)
Aziraphale saves Crowley from the claws of hell after he does a good deed. Vowing to protect him, keeping him hidden in his bookshop.
- Mod D
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Doubt || kth.
Kim Taehyung x female!reader
Summary: Taehyung is an eccentric young musician working on a song that he believes will save him. Can it also save the woman he loves?
Genre: Greek Mythology AU, Orpheus AU, Fluff, Angst
Word Count: 8,678
Rating: T
Warnings: hunger and poverty; manipulation; major character death
Notes: Based on the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Thanks to @daechwitatamic for beta-ing. Banner by @itaeewon.
It’s so cold out that you can see your breath, a puff of pale steam that quickly disappears into the dull landscape around you. The clouds are starting to lighten, they’re less grey, less dense, and you can tell the sun’s still somewhere up there, at least. But gods, it’s almost mid-May and you can’t remember the last time you’d seen blue sky. Hell, you can’t remember the last time you’d seen the sun.
Growing up, you’d heard stories of the seasons changing on time. Tales of spring coming in late March, bringing rain and flowers and much-needed warmth; that fall would reliably start at the end of September, the land turning to shades of orange and red and yellow. Between that, days got warmer and longer, and then colder and shorter. It was a cycle, and it was predictable, and it was nice, and it was mundane.
That didn’t really happen anymore.
You tug your jacket closer around your body. It’s starting to wear thin and the zipper is broken. You’ll need to find a way to fix it when you get into the next town. There’s no way you’ll be able to afford a new one, but maybe you can trade for some lining and a new zipper. Though that means you’ll have to find something to trade…
Good-paying jobs are hard to find, especially with the world’s economy in flux the way that it is. Most everyone is more focused on finding food and shelter, and people are much more willing to migrate to find work during the good season if they can. You’d been doing odd-jobs up and down the eastern seaboard for years now, as long as you could take care of yourself. Some cleaning here, accompanying someone to a different town there. You’d even done some childcare near the gulf when you’d been down south.
Now, you’re following the railroad tracks north.
Eventually, you stumble upon a sleepy town somewhere south of the city you’re trying to get to. There aren’t that many buildings that you can really see, and most of them are still covered in snow. Snow’s piled up along the streets and under the windows–it’s almost touching the sills in some places. None of the buildings look to be taller than three stories. The town is small, but the square in the middle of town is surrounded by lit buildings. You’re freezing. First stop: find a bar or a hotel or an inn.
The bar isn’t hard to find, but it’s dark when you finally push through the door in a swirl of bitter wind and snow flurries. Every head in the bar turns to look as you enter. You slide into a table by the door, a little embarrassed but ultimately just happy to be out of the cold.
“You’re not from around here.” The man who approaches your table is tall and confident, and when he offers you a soft smile, you instantly feel more at ease. He pulls a small pad of paper out of his back pocket and slides into the booth across from you. “I’m Yoongi.”
You tell him your name, and he tells you what’s good on the menu before taking your order. Yoongi leaves you alone with a promise to check on you later to make sure you have a place to stay the night. You allow yourself to relax into the vinyl cushions of the booth, enjoying the atmosphere–significantly less tense now that Yoongi has welcomed you into the establishment–and the warmth of the fireplace across the room.
There’s a house band that sits in the corner playing some jazzy number that reminds you of one of the gulf cities you’d stayed in back when you were passing through the bayous of the south. The pianist is slight, a little too skinny, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he plays. He’s talented, remarkably so, and paired with the saxophone and the upright bass, the music they play is some of the best you’d heard in a very long time.
A plate clattering onto the table in front of you draws your attention from the band. A young man stands in front of you, honeyed eyes wide. He looks to be around your age, his dark hair pushed out of his eyes with a thick cloth headband. He has a kind energy, despite his sharp features, if not a little odd.
“Yoongi said you’re new in town,” he says finally, his voice a little deeper than you were expecting. “Do you have somewhere to stay? Are you going to be here long? You should stay with Yoongi and I.”
You sigh. The man is forward, that’s for sure. You’d been hoping to grab a hot meal here, rest a little, and move on. You’re close to the city–maybe a couple days of walking, less if you can hitch a ride with someone or sneak on the train. But you can tell that this place, and these people, is somewhere you could easily stay in.
You can’t let that happen.
Yoongi appears then, a glass of water in his hands. He places it on the table in front of you, nudging the man out of the way. “Don’t be a pest, Taehyung. Remember what I said about scaring away my customers?”
“Oh, so he’s like this with everyone?” You ask it playfully, but there’s a bit of real questioning in it. You get the sense that maybe this guy–this Taehyung–is a bit of an oddball. Not in a bad way, but you’d like to know what you’re dealing with.
The way Yoongi rolls his eyes tells you that yes, Taehyung is like this with everyone. “He tell you about his song yet?”
You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, he’s a singer.”
Taehyung blushes, a light dusting of pink blossoming across his cheeks. “There’s this contest, and I… The prize is a year’s supply of soup.”
You hum. Any more, money isn’t really a great prize. Bartering is more or less how the economy runs. But soup? Any kind of food in that amount would make someone richer than even the wealthiest city dwellers.
Taehyung is certainly an intriguing fellow.
You can’t say at what point in the night Yoongi slipped away, or when Taehyung slipped into the booth across from you. But you can’t deny that--despite his way too forward introduction--his presence is comfortable.
“What brings you into town?” he asks as you take a bite of your sandwich, watching you expectantly as you chew.
“Job hunting,” you say simply, glancing in the direction of the band as they start to play again.
“What did you do before? Where are you from?”
You shrug. “Bit of everything.”
Taehyung hums and rests his chin in his hand. If he notices that you ignore his second question, he doesn’t mention it. “Hey, maybe Yoongi could give you a job? He’s always saying about needing someone else to wait tables. Apparently I’m ‘unreliable’ and ‘flighty’.” He makes a face, eyes widening almost comically as he wiggles his head.
Then, he sighs dramatically and watches the band for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. It’s a little dopey, but it’s endearing how his face scrunches up and he covers his mouth with his hand.
When he calms down, he leans on his hand. “Yoongi really isn’t that bad to work for. He’s just busy is all. He runs the bar, but he’s also station master over at the train station, and he delivers mail sometimes when the post office is short-staffed.”
“That’s… a lot of jobs.”
Taehyung shrugs. “He likes to stay busy.”
Things quiet down, then, and you listen to the band play as you finish your meal. Sometimes, Taehyung speaks, telling you a bit about his life and about the bar, but for the most part, he sits with you in silence. He nods along with the band, and every once in a while, he pulls out a small notebook to jot something down. Even though he isn’t talking as much, he seems happy. You get the sense that he’s just excited you aren’t ignoring him or shooing him away.
When it’s time for the bar to close, Yoongi comes to collect Taehyung so they can get to work cleaning and closing the establishment.
“Wait for me?” Taehyung whispers to you as you stand from the booth. He tugs the scarf from around his neck and drapes it over yours. The striped fabric is a little thin, but you can feel his body heat radiating off it slightly. “I’ll meet you when we’re done. There’s a park down that way three blocks.” He points east. “It’s just across the street from my apartment. You can wait there if you want.”
He’s gone before you even confirm that you’d wait for him.
“He’s a good kid,” Yoongi’s voice from behind you makes you jump. “He’s a little naive, but he’s got a big heart.” He holds the door open for you as you leave the bar. He nods at you. “I’ll see you later.”
The night is cold, but nowhere near as bitter as it had been a few nights before. The seasons are starting to change. This year, if you’re lucky, maybe it'll last the correct amount of time.
You find the park easily, wandering around it for a few minutes before selecting a bench near the center fountain. It’s turned off to prevent the icy spray from getting whipped around in the wind, and you’re grateful. The last thing you need is to be cold and wet.
It’s a surprisingly nice night. The clouds have parted, if only slightly, and you can see stars in the breaks in the gloom. You tug your jacket around your body and wrap Taehyung’s scarf around your neck, closing your eyes and leaning back against the bench. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to just relax.
You’d started out almost a month ago when the blizzard ended. The town you had been staying in had started to get too small, the people had started to get too friendly. It had all started to chafe at your brain. So you’d left and started walking, catching a ride where you could, always following the train tracks.
You don’t hear the footsteps behind you until a body sliding onto the bench beside you makes you jump.
“Sorry,” Taehyung apologizes, a soft, boxy smile on his lips. “We uh… we finished up early, and you looked so pretty just sitting here. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
It’s not a problem, and you tell him as much, placing a hand on his forearm as he leans sideways against the back of the bench. The flush springs to his cheeks almost immediately, his eyes flashing to where you’re touching him.
“So you’re a singer,” you ask, changing the subject. Taehyung nods sheepishly. “Sing something for me?”
“Oh! I uh… wouldn’t know what to sing.” Taehyung dismisses you with a wave of his hand.
You hum. “Oh come on. You can’t just say you’re working on this song and then not sing.”
He sighs. “I don’t know...”
“At least hum something for me?”
For a moment, he stays silent, and you think he’s going to tell you no again. Which would be fine. You would drop it. You’re curious, and you’re a little stubborn, but you know when to drop something. But when he opens his mouth, he sings.
The tune is beautiful and haunting, despite it being incredibly simple. It’s only a few notes that for the most part move up and down along the scale. You’re mesmerized, and you close your eyes, feeling a warmth spreading through your body. He stops suddenly, and the park grows eerily quiet.
“Taehyung, you’re amazing.”
His smile is brilliant, and he looks beautiful in what little moonlight there is. You don’t know why your stomach is doing flips.
“Oh hey you two,” Yoongi greets, suddenly in front of you. “Ready to go home?”
As it turns out, Taehyung and Yoongi live together. You walk across the street with the two men, pausing in front of a door between the two ground-floor businesses–a bookstore and an empty storefront.
Yoongi slumps into the sofa, seemingly exhausted, while Taehyung disappears deeper into the apartment. He returns a few minutes later, changed into more comfortable clothes, carrying some blankets and a change of clothes for you, too.
“You can use these,” he says, handing the bundle to you. Then, he turns to Yoongi. “It would be nice to be able to offer a job, you know…”
“It’s late. We’ll talk more later. It’s past my bedtime, and you kids have to be up early tomorrow. It’s a big day.”
“Wh-” Yoongi waves goodnight, and he’s gone before Taehyung can even finish his sentence.
A few moments pass in silence before Taehyung yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He encourages you to get comfortable and bids you goodnight then, apologizing for not having a proper bed for you to sleep in. His is small, he says, or he’d offer to share. But honestly, the couch doesn’t seem so bad. It looks soft, and it’s better than sleeping on a bench outside. He looks like he wants to leave, but he’s frozen in place.
“Thanks,” you tell him softly. “For everything. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. I appreciate it.”
“Of course.”
“Do you want your scarf back?” You unwind it from around your neck, holding it out slightly for him to take.
“Keep it.” He offers you a shy smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight!” He hurries away, turning off the light as he goes, leaving you standing in the middle of their living room alone and in the dark.
You hadn’t missed the bright blush on his cheeks, or the way your pulse had quickened at his touch.
-----
It’s a beautiful day. You were worried because the past few days, it had been sweltering hot. The kind of oppressive summer heat that saps your energy and makes you want to do nothing but lay in front of a fan all day. But it’s cooled off some, and there’s a nice breeze going.
You sit on the bank of the river, just close enough to the water where you can feel it lapping at your bare feet, but not close enough to actually get wet. It’s serene sitting there, listening to the birds chirp in the trees and the ducks splashing around in the water. Very different from the seemingly constant chaos that is Yoongi’s bar. Even when it isn’t busy, it’s loud. And while you enjoy the atmosphere, you’re not used to constantly being around that many people. It takes a lot out of you.
Which is why you took the opportunity to come to the river just on the other side of the train tracks to take a break on your day off. Taehyung had followed you, because of course he had. But you don’t mind. You don’t feel the need to entertain him, to constantly be talking with him. You barely have to focus on him. It seems to be enough for him to just exist in each other’s company. It’s nice.
He has his head in your lap, laying perpendicular to you. One of his knees is bent and he has the other one raised and resting against his bent knee, creating a little table for himself as he scribbles in his notebook.
“What are you thinking?” you ask him, reaching down and brushing his hair out of his eyes. It’s grown longer. You wish he would let you give him a haircut.
“Music,” Tae responds simply, his attention flicking to you for the briefest of moments. You can see the playfulness in his eyes, even as he turns his focus back to his notebook. He’s determined to finish that song. “And how I want to marry you.”
He’s been playfully asking you since the second day. At this point, he says it so nonchalantly that you aren’t even phased anymore. You roll your eyes and poke him right in the middle of his forehead.
You brought a book--one of Yoongi’s, he doesn’t mind that you borrow it--and you read while he works, stealing glances at him subtly every once in a while. His concentration face is truly a sight to behold, all focused eyes and set jaw and furrowed brow. Sometimes, he catches you looking and flashes you a confused, boxy grin, which you return. You’re pretty sure he has no idea what he does to you.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks softly. When you look down at him, his full attention is on you, his notebook resting face-down against his chest. He fiddles with his pen.
You hum and lean back against the hill, letting the book fall to the ground gently beside you. “Sing me something?”
So he does. He sits up only to fall to the ground again to lay beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He sings of longing, of love lost, and of love yet to be. It’s beautiful and haunting and sad, but there’s a kind of hope in the song, too. When he’s done, he reaches out, hand grasping your own, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while.
Eventually, he shifts beside you and grabs his notebook from where it fell to the ground when he sat up. Smiling, you reach out and brush his hair off his forehead. He glances up at you, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the smile on his lips. His smile is unlike anything you’d ever seen. It’s innocent, and warm, and so unabashedly joyous that it makes you feel like nothing bad can ever happen if he was there.
You’ve never felt like that before.
You’ve been alone for so long--it’s been just you since your parents had passed in your early teens--you barely even recognize how much it sucks. You’ve gotten so used to being alone, you no longer even recognize that you’re lonely. For so long, you’ve forced yourself not to get close to anyone, have focused on taking care of yourself for so long, that you hadn’t even recognized your heart had grown cold. All you’d ever known was how to take care of yourself and get to the next day. And the next one. And the one after that.
You like the warmth he brings you. You like how he makes you feel: as if maybe you don’t have to go it alone. You like that he makes you feel happy.
And you have no idea what to do with that information.
It terrifies you a little. You’ve only known him for a few months, but it feels like you’ve known him for your entire life.
“What are you thinking about?” Tae’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He reaches over and squeezes your hand, fingers slotting between yours. “You look like you're thinking hard about something.”
You hum. There’s no way you can tell him your exact thoughts, you can barely articulate them to yourself. It’s a lot, and you don’t want to scare him away. You want this--whatever this is--to last. So you sigh, and instead of telling him what you want to, you simply say, “Just thinking.”
“Ah.” He nods sagely. “Big thoughts. I get that.” For a moment, he’s quiet, toying with your fingers in the silence. “Can I tell you something?” All of a sudden, he seems nervous. You can feel the anxious energy practically radiating off him. He can’t seem to look you in the eye. His other hand clutches at his notebook.
“Yeah, of course.”
“I just…” Taehyung swallows hard before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I know I can be a lot. I know I daydream a lot, and I get too into my songs, and I have trouble paying attention sometimes when you tell me things. I know I’m weird. So, I guess, just… thank you for wanting to spend time with me.”
You smile gently, feeling your heart soften even more at his vulnerability. “I like spending time with you, Tae,” you say earnestly. And you do. You’ve never enjoyed someone’s company as much as you enjoy his.
“I really do want to marry you,” he confesses softly, his eyes darting out to the river. “I know that’s dumb, but it’s true.”
Two months ago, you would have dismissed him--you had dismissed him--as just being a man looking for one thing. But now that you know Taehyung, well… things are different. “Let’s get through this winter, then we’ll talk.”
“Really?”
“You would have to promise me things, Tae. We both know how rough the world can be. I need to know you’re willing to weather whatever storms come this way.”
He nods eagerly. “I will. You know I will.”
You wrap your arms around him then and pull him to you, his arms immediately slotting around your waist. He’s warm, and despite the fact that it’s sweltering hot out, you’re certain you could stay wrapped up in his arms until you both turn to dust and scatter to the wind.
“Tell me you’ll hold me forever. Tell me that things won’t change when the storms get bad. Promise we’ll stay with each other and it will always be like this.”
You feel him nod against you, feel him hold you tighter. “I will. All of it. More. I promise. It’ll always be like this. You and me.”
When you pull away, his dark eyes are warm and inviting, the small smile on his lips inviting, drawing you in until you’re connected. His kiss is soft, tender, and for a moment, he’s frozen, as if his brain short-circuited and he’s trying to reboot. But then he’s kissing you back, slow and measured. You want to memorize what he feels like in this moment, his hair tickling your face in the light breeze, his hands pressed into your lower back.
His nose brushes against yours as you part. There’s a dusting of pink across his cheeks, and he has the goofiest, most awestruck smile. It makes your stomach do a flip seeing him like that. And in that moment, you know that this adorable man will be the death of you.
-----
You cringe as the door to the apartment slams shut behind you. The wind had kicked up over the past half-hour, and while the door needed some extra force to shut it, you had overestimated just how much extra. Thus, the slam. Normally, Yoongi would have yelled at you, but he’s working double duty at the station because of the storm, making sure that travelers are getting where they want to go in a safe and relatively timely manner.
If Taehyung heard the door slam, he doesn’t seem to care. Though, you doubt that he had heard it at all. Tae had entered a self-imposed sabbatical almost two weeks ago, attempting to finish his song. He seems to have placed an arbitrary deadline on it, and he’s determined to meet that goal.
“How’s it going?” you ask softly, hanging up your coat and scarf on the hook by the door. They were gifts from Yoongi at the start of the winter. Something to help you to survive if you’re going to keep working for him at the bar.
Taehyung doesn’t even look up from his notebook at the sound of your voice. He sits at the small piano in the corner of the living room, brows furrowed, staring at the pages of scribbles he had been working on for the past few days. He’d been in the same place when you’d left for the bar.
You nod, walking into the kitchen and pulling a glass down from the cabinet over the sink. “It’s starting to get bad out there,” you say absently, watching out the window as you fill the glass with water. And it is. You can see the wind blowing snow flurries perpendicular to the ground. Snowing sideways, your mom had called it.
You glance at the cupboards as you walk back into the living room, briefly opening up the refrigerator to check out the situation. “We need food,” you tell Taehyung as you sit the glass of water down beside his piano. “And we’re starting to run low on firewood.” Luckily, Yoongi had stocked the apartment with wood for the fireplace before the storm had gotten too bad, but those supplies are starting to dwindle now that he hardly has time to come home.
“It’s right there,” he mumbles, and though you suspect he’s talking more to himself than to you, you can’t help but respond.
“What?”
“The melody. It’s right there. It’s like it’s just been… forgotten.” He scribbles something more down into his notebook. “That’s why the seasons are all messed up. But it’s right there, just out of reach. It won’t get better until we remember.”
“Then you’d better finish it quick.” You push his hair back and lean in, placing a delicate kiss to his forehead. He hums briefly and squeezes your hand. “I’m going to run out and get some firewood and maybe swing by the pantry to see if I can get some supplies to hold us over until Yoongi comes back.”
But he’s gone again, his attention back to his notebook and the 88 keys in front of him. You sigh and nod, returning to the hook by the door to grab your coat and scarf. You want to have faith in him. You want to believe he’s right, and that the song he’s working on can fix things.
“Okay, you finish it,” you tell him, knowing full well he isn’t paying attention. “I’ll be back soon.”
And so you step back out into the biting wind and freezing cold. You pull your coat tighter, flipping your collar up to attempt to shield your neck from the snow. The public pantry is further away, so you turn in that direction, going mostly on instinct because it’s nearly impossible to see with all the snow that’s falling.
You walk for about 20 minutes before stopping. You should have reached the pantry already. But there’s a large open lot beside it. Yoongi said it was an old field for playing sports--an old football field, he had said, and a baseball field beside it. You know the field is to the left of the pantry, so you turn to the right and begin to walk again, the snow getting tougher to trudge through, and the visibility continues to worsen as you go.
You’re confused. There’s no way you had gotten this far off-track. The town isn’t that difficult to navigate, and you should have come across some building by now, even if it isn’t the communal pantry. Instead, you’re still in the middle of a snow-covered field, the blizzard raging on around you. You turn around in an attempt to follow your steps back in the direction you came.
Unfortunately, your footprints are gone, already covered by the snow.
“You’re resourceful,” a voice behind you says, the howling of the wind calming as if commanded.
You spin around, coming face to face with a young man. He looks to be Taehyung’s age, maybe slightly older, his dark hair neatly styled and combed back off his forehead. He wears a white collared shirt under a smartly tailored suit jacket and a woollen double-breasted coat, a pair of lined leather gloves on his hands.
“Are you lost, little songbird?” His voice is deep and warm, and you find yourself drawn to him, taking a few steps forward. At your silence, he smirks, and you can see the stars dancing in his eyes as dimples press into his cheeks. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”
“I was trying to get to the pantry,” you manage, taking another step forward. And then another. Until you’re standing directly in front of him.
“You’re going to freeze to death out here.” He pouts, reaching out to rub your arms, creating some friction and heat. His touch isn’t even direct, but you can feel the warmth in him, like he’s made of fire. “You’re going to the pantry? Why?”
“We’re running low on food.”
He hums and nods sagely. “That’s no good. Pretty little songbirds like you don’t deserve to suffer.”
You feel your cheeks heat at his words and pray that if he notices you’re flushed, he assumes it’s from the cold. You have no idea why he’s affecting you like this. Normally, you would walk away by now. But something about this man’s aura draws you in.
“I’ve seen you around,” he says, adjusting the hat on your head. It’s Taehyung’s beanie. You borrowed it to keep your ears warm. “You have a good head on your shoulders. Smart. Resourceful. You’d do well as a manager. Have you ever thought of working in a factory or a warehouse?”
“No, I… I’ve never really been one to put down roots.” You have no idea why you’re telling him that.
“Shame. I think you’d be good at it. And it’s a good job, you know? Steady income. Guaranteed housing. Meal vouchers provided by the company.”
“Which company?”
“Mine.” He flashes you a wide smile, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. The sight of it warms you from the inside. “Think about it, okay? When you have nothing to lose, you’ll be welcome.” He digs into his pockets and pulls out a slip of paper. “Take the train to the end of the line. I’ll be waiting.”
With that, the snow and wind pick up so harshly you have to shield your face. When it calms down seconds later, you’re standing in front of the public pantry, and the man is gone.
-----
Two days pass, and you can’t get the beautiful man with the captivating aura out of your head. He hadn’t said much, but he was charismatic, and you couldn’t help but hang on his words. He had said you were smart and resourceful. No one had ever complimented you like that before. It threw you off, but you can’t help but admit that it had made your heart soar a little.
It was nice to feel wanted.
Taehyung is still working on his song when you walk into the living room in the morning. It seems like he never moved. He’s always sitting at the piano, staring at his notebook. Sometimes, he’ll move to the couch, but he never leaves the living room, never looks up from his notebook.
You know his song is important, know he has to finish it to send it off, and truly, you know that when he does, it could save you all, even Yoongi. But at the same time, you have concerns. Things were so different in the summertime. It was supposed to be the two of you: birds of a feather. You were supposed to weather the storms together.
And yet…
You sigh, looking into the cupboards to try to find something small. You’re starving. The pantry wasn’t able to help nearly as much as you hoped, and it’s hard trying to feed both you and Taehyung on the meagre leftovers in Yoongi’s cabinets. You hoped he would’ve been home by now to help--he always seemed to be able to help find food--but the storm hadn’t let up and he’s still out there making sure mail gets delivered and travelers arrive at their destinations safely.
“We’re going to need food again soon.” You say it loud enough that you know he can hear you, but whether it registers or not, you have no idea.
You watch him work, watch as he taps one of the piano keys repeatedly as he thinks, the sharp ‘tink tink tink’ of the note permeating the otherwise silent living room. After a moment, it becomes clear that he didn’t, in fact, heard you, and you feel the annoyance and hurt flare inside you.
You’re angry at yourself most of all. You could have left. You could have gone somewhere else, found a job--a good paying job where the owner wouldn’t forget to pay you because he’s out playing postmaster and barkeep and stationmaster all at the same time--found shelter and food and safety for the winter. But instead, you had followed your heart for once.
And look where that got you.
Your mind drifts once again to the mysterious stranger and his promises. You have no idea if he would keep them, but anything is better than starving to death. You want to stay--it almost physically hurts you to think of leaving--but you can’t ignore the ache in your stomach or the chill in your bones.
“Tae?” you try softly, walking into the living room and stopping in front of the piano. “Taehyung?” Your tone is sharp in an attempt to get his attention. But he doesn’t look up. He simply hums in a brief acknowledgement. “I’m going out.” The words leave your mouth before you even really know what you’re saying. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if.”
He plays another note on the piano.
You turn away, not wanting him to see your heart breaking. As you grab your coat off the hook on the wall, the paper the mysterious stranger had given you flutters to the ground from your pocket. You pick it up and examine it one last time.
It’s gold, but it doesn’t glitter. The writing on it is neat, if a little smudged, as though placed there by an old-fashioned stamper and inkpad.
No charge.
One-way.
VIP.
Your fingers tremble as you stuff the ticket back into your pocket. With one last glance at Taehyung scribbling in his notebook, hair falling into his eyes despite his headband, eyes and jaw set in concentration, you’re gone.
-----
The factory floor is quiet. The only sounds come from the machines. You sit at your workstation, your eyes strained from watching the repetitiveness of the assembly line. You tried to talk to some of your coworkers the other day. Or was it yesterday? Last week? You can’t remember.
It doesn’t matter. None of them answered you, anyway.
Outside, the shift whistle blows, and you stretch your arms above your head, hearing your joints pop and crack from sitting still for the past however many hours. Your shifts always seem to fly, you can hardly remember what you do during them.
However, despite your fast shifts, you aren’t really sure what it is you make. The factory is huge, encompassing at least five huge buildings the lengths of city blocks. The parts you’re responsible for are small, unidentifiable, made out of metal and a bit of plastic. You don’t even know what they are, let alone what they’re used for. But thousands of them pass by you daily as you make sure they sit upright on the conveyor.
You find yourself wandering through the park just outside of your apartment complex. You aren’t quite sure why, but the park always seemed to draw you in. You love the view from the bench in front of the fountain. The way you can see the buildings peeking out over the tops of the trees makes you feel sentimental in the weirdest way, though you can’t quite put your finger on it.
Along the path through the park blooms flowers in the most brilliant shade of red you’ve ever seen. Sometimes, if you look at them too long, you’re overwhelmed by a sense of melancholy, but you have no idea why. You’ve never seen flowers like that in your life.
There are times where, if you close your eyes, you can almost see yourself somewhere warm and bright. Someone is always at your side. You can never quite make out their face, only how your heart speeds up when they look at you. You’d been in the city for months–you can’t remember how many exactly–and these daydreams don’t look like they happen in the city. Maybe they’re premonitions, or some sort of deja vu.
You hope so. Daydream you always seems so happy.
You’re sitting on your bench in the park after your shift one day when you hear someone speak far off behind you. It makes you jump slightly. You haven’t heard someone speak in… the factory foreman had said something recently, but you hadn’t really paid attention to what he said. So when the voice behind you speaks again and comes closer, you turn to investigate.
The man that approaches you is handsome, if not a little eccentric. His shirt is half-tucked into his pants, and the sweater he’s wearing is too big and very thin. His dark hair bounces as he lightly jogs in your direction. As he gets closer, his smile widens, his dark eyes sparkling with joy.
He speaks again, baritone voice soft and full of emotion. It’s a name he’s calling. Is that… your name? How does he know your name?
“I can’t believe I found you!” he says excitedly, his hands capturing your own as soon as he’s close enough. “Yoongi said it could take forever, but I’ve only been down here a few days. I… I can’t believe it’s you!”
He pulls you to him then, arms wrapping around your waist tightly. You’re confused, but you find yourself hugging him back. He feels skinny--too skinny--and his face is a little sunken-in and dirty, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. There’s something about him that’s familiar, but…
“I’m sorry,” you say softly when he pulls away. His eyes dart around your face as he holds you at arm’s length. It’s almost like he’s inspecting you. “I… Do I know you?”
For a moment, his eyes light up and he laughs, a gentle guffaw that pulls at your heartstrings in a way that sets your mind–and pulse–racing. But then, it seems, he realizes you aren’t joking. You watch, unable to do anything as his heart breaks right in front of your eyes.
The way he whispers your name, halfway between a prayer and a plea, convinces you. Even if you don’t know him, he certainly knows you. No one sounds that broken over a complete stranger.
“Who…” you try tentatively. There’s no way this won’t be awkward. But you want to know more about him. You’re oddly drawn to him, like you’d known him in some other life. “Who are you?”
“Taehyung.” His voice is barely audible. His fingers twitch, and you get the sense that he wants to pull you in for a hug again and it’s taking a tremendous effort to not.
Why does his name sound so familiar? You’re certain you’ve never seen him before.
“I can’t leave without you.” He sounds determined, confident, like he’d walked halfway through hell to find you. And, well… perhaps he sort of had.
But that’s crazy. You don’t know him.
“Come home with me,” the man–Taehyung–pleads, reaching for your hand. You let him take it.
“I can’t.” For some reason, it makes you sad. You know it in your gut. Even if you do know him, there’s no way you can leave the city.
“You can, though. I know the way. We just have to go back the way I came down. Yoongi told me about it. I don’t know how he knew, but-”
“You’re not from around here, are you, boy?” You have no idea when the man in front of you appeared. The air smells of ash and sulfur, and all of a sudden, it’s hot.
Immediately, you freeze, and you find yourself squeezing Taehyung’s hand. You haven’t seen the man since you’d signed the contract, but down here, he had a reputation for being no-nonsense. When he’s in a good mood, Namjoon looks harmless. But when he’s angry, he’s downright terrifying. And judging by his set jaw and hard eyes, he’s pretty angry. Beside you, Taehyung stiffens, standing up straighter.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but the little songbird is a law-abiding citizen. You should go back to where you belong.”
“Taehyung, you should go,” you whisper, dropping his hand and taking a step away.
He turns to you, dark eyes sad when they meet yours. “I’m not leaving without you.”
Namjoon laughs, loud and boisterous and dark. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” he asks, taking a step forward. “Don’t you think she would have left already if she could? She signed on the dotted line. She’s here forever now.”
“What?” Taehyung’s attention darts back and forth between you and Namjoon. “That’s not true. Is it?”
You sigh, avoiding his eyes. “I did what I had to.”
Namjoon’s jaw clenches, and he motions for you to head back into the factory. “Heed my advice, boy. It would be in your best interest to leave. I won’t ask twice.”
A swirl of shadow. The smell of sulfur and ash. And Namjoon is gone.
It takes a few moments, but eventually, the tension leaves your body. Beside you, Taehyung visibly relaxes before he lowers himself to the ground in a defeated huff. For a second, you watch him, unsure of what to do. You still don’t remember him, but he’d come a long way, and for that, you feel bad.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize, voice soft.
“No, it’s… it’s not your fault.” For the briefest moments, he stares down at his hands, but then he looks at you, dark eyes big and sad. “What happened?”
You shrug, kick at a rock on the ground and watch it skitter across the pavement before you crouch next to him. “I don’t remember,” you admit sadly. “But there’s this contract. I signed it. I… He made such pretty promises.”
You don’t remember what they were, exactly, but you remember the way Namjoon’s eyes glistened as he spoke, the way his dimple pressed into his cheek as he promised you whatever it took to get you here.
Taehyung hums, his head hanging low. “This is my fault.”
Your heart breaks at the sadness in his voice, at how disappointed in himself he sounds. Part of you wants to comfort him, to tell him that no, it’s not his fault. He did his best. This is just a shitty situation and a powerful man chose you to manipulate and deceive. But you don’t. Because you don’t know how true any of that is.
Something inside of you says that it’s not as true as you’d like.
He grows quiet. All you hear is the factories around you. The next shift has started. You should be in there with them. You wonder if anyone has even noticed that you’re missing. Absently, Taehyung picks at the grass, and something stirs in the back of your mind. A memory, though it feels almost like it belongs to someone else. Taehyung and you laying in the grass on the bank of a river, the sound of a train in the distance.
“Can I show you something?” he asks, and silently, you nod.
He clears his throat and begins to quietly sing. His voice is beautiful, a delicate baritone that nimbly, delicately touches on each note. He’s in full control, eyes closed, hands folded in his lap, a master at work showing you the melody that lives in his mind.
You can’t deny that the song is beautiful, a haunting acapella that moves you the way a psalm might move a priest. You feel it in your heart more than you hear it, his voice so soft that you really aren’t even sure that you’re hearing it properly at all. It wraps you up, gentle cocoon around your broken heart, and you feel it trying to heal what it finds there. You find something swelling within you. Something akin to pride.
You have no idea why you react this way. But you want to. You want to remember.
“That’s beautiful,” you tell Taehyung when he’s finished. And for a second, he looks at you, a hardness in his eyes that you can only describe as determination.
He leans in, lips gently brushing your forehead, before he stands. “Come with me,” he says cryptically, offering you his hand.
You take it without question.
-----
You’re uneasy. The path is dark--you can barely see Taehyung walking in front of you. He’s just far enough that you can’t reach out and touch him, but close enough that you can easily follow behind. But the soft dirt below your feet muffles your steps as you go, so it’s too quiet. Thus, your unease.
The path is barely wide enough for a person to pass through, and it slopes upward fairly steeply. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking, only that the longer you walk, the lighter you feel. You hadn’t noticed it in the Underworld, but the fog that seems to surround your thoughts and memories parts more and more the closer to the surface you get. By now, you remember almost everything--Yoongi, the bar, your past, everything.
But most of all, you remember Taehyung. And you remember fully why you left.
You want to call him, to tell him that you forgive him, to tell him that you’re so proud of him for finally finishing his song. But you don’t dare. You refuse to do anything to jeopardize your future. Namjoon has given you one chance. You doubt he’d give you a second.
The stones on either side of the path are damp and oddly shaped, and they’re difficult to use as hand-holds when the path gets too steep. But you hang on anyway because the other option is to stumble and fall flat on your face.
In front of you, Taehyung trudges on. You can tell he isn’t happy about the situation just from the visible tension in his back, but there isn’t anything he can do about it. He walks quickly, but not too quick so as not to lose you. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, his broad shoulders set against the chill of the underground path.
“Go. Before I change my mind,” Namjoon says, turning his back on you.
You have no idea what Taehyung said to change the man’s mind. Maybe it was his persistence. Maybe you caught Namjoon at a good time. Maybe he just liked Tae’s song. A combination of all of the above and more. None of it at all. But you can’t believe what you’re hearing.
“How?” Taehyung asks, his grip on your hand tightening.
Namjoon sighs. “You’ll walk. You know the way well enough to lead, don’t you?” He sounds exhausted. “You lead. She’ll follow. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your eyes on the road ahead. If you don’t, well… maybe it really was her time to go.”
“It’s a trick.” Taehyung sounds angry.
“It’s a trial. One you’ll do well to pass if you want to make it out of here alive.” Namjoon rubs his eyes. “You test my patience. Leave. Or regret it.”
You stumble as the path slopes upwards more steeply, your hand reaching out for the rock. You must have made some sort of noise, because Taehyung pauses. You can see him fighting himself, refusing to turn around.
“Are you okay?” he calls back. When you don’t answer, he grunts but continues walking. “I hope you’re still back there,” he mumbles.
That’s the hardest part about this trek. You can hear him talking to himself. Sometimes, he hums his song, and you can hear the soft echoes off the stones in the passage. But mostly, the long stretches of silence are interrupted by Taehyung’s whispers to himself.
“Only a little further.”
“I hope you’re still back there.”
“Gods, I’m so stupid.”
“Please still be back there.”
Suddenly up ahead, you can see a speck of something bright. It’s only a pin-prick in size, but it grows steadily the more you climb. You find yourself pushing yourself to walk faster, attempting to match Taehyung’s speed as he practically runs up the slope.
And then he stops, and you stop, almost walking straight into his back. The mouth of the cave is just a large hole in the ground, like some gaping maw prepared to swallow someone whole. You recognize the area vaguely as being along the railroad tracks just past the station.
You breathe deeply. The air is still a little frigid, but it has that smell to it, like it could turn warm at any moment. You try to remember what month it was. March? Maybe April? You had gotten on the train in early September. Has it really been six months?
Before you know it, Taehyung’s arms are around you, catching you mid-step and forcing you to take a step backward. You hold him, allowing yourself to get lost in him for a moment. He’s warm, and he smells like dirt and wood and lavender.
“I missed you,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer.
Pulling away slightly, your hands find his face, cupping his jaw tenderly. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly.
Tae hums, offering you a wide, boxy smile. “You’re safe now.” His hands grip your shirt at your waist. “Plus, I’m the one that should be apologizing. I let you down. I got too focused on my song, I forgot why I was in a hurry to finish it in the first place.”
A tug on your ankle draws your attention, and you try to glance down subtly to see what’s happening. But Taehyung’s grip on you is tight, and he notices you shifting. His eyes fall to your feet, one of which is firmly planted on the frozen ground of the mortal world. Your other foot is still in the soft dirt of the path from the Underworld.
Shadows are already starting to creep up your ankle.
“No,” Taehyung says firmly, trying to tug you forward. “No we made it. That’s not fair.”
You shake your head, your foot not budging. “Apparently not.” The shadows slowly grow, engulfing more of your leg.
Taehyung pulls you to him, then, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. “I’ll come find you again. I’ll sing my song for Namjoon. He’ll have to let you go.”
You sigh, your hands balling in the fabric of his jacket. “I love you,” you whisper. And you do. You realized it while climbing out of the Underworld. He’s the one who had been in your daydreams down below, he had been the happiness you had been missing.
He kisses you, then, tenderly but desperately. You let yourself melt into it, one hand finding purchase in his hair. You want to remember him, to commit this moment to your memory so that even when you do inevitably forget him, you’ll remember how he made you feel. The happiness, the joy, the love. Even the frustration. Because of course, that was part of it. You love him so much that you did get frustrated with him.
Your neck is cold, and you know it’s the shadows, swirling and trying to pull you back down. Taehyung’s eyes are wide when he pulls away, and they glisten in the midday sun. He blinks quickly, and you can tell he’s trying not to cry.
“Wait for me?” he asks softly, brushing your hair back and kissing you lightly on the forehead.
“I always will.”
Taehyung offers you a sad smile just before the shadows overtake you. In a second, he’s standing alone, the smell of ash and sulfur in the air.
#taehyung#taehyung x reader#bts taehyung#bts taehyung x reader#kth#bts fic#taehyung angst#bts taehyung angst#taehyung fic#taehyung fanfic#bts angst#bts x reader
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Bad Press (part 2)
Pairing: dark!toxic!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, slight sejanus x fem!reader
Summary: (au) after avoiding getting caught cheating in the games, a hopeful presidential candidate snow is fed up with your slanderous reporting, so he decides put you in your place
Warning: 21+ (drinking), smut, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, p in v, use of degeneration (whore, slut) blackmail, threats, dom!snow, sub!reader, slight jealousy, slight misogyny, obsession, power imbalance, porn with a plot
Word count: 3.8k
A/N: hello! happy sunday! i’m so excited and nervous for you guys to read part two but here it is! i had so much fun writing this and have some fun ideas for future coyro fics soooo stay tuned! also stay tuned for future projects with other fandoms that I’m excited to share ♡ enjoy :) also if you missed it check out part 1
You enter the golden elevator in the lobby of his building and ride it with him to the top floor. The entire time, his hand stays close to your waist, ghosting over the small of your back. It dings after several moments.
“After you my dear.” Snow smiles, pushing you forward slightly. You admire the luxury of his home. The ceilings are tall and intimidating. It  makes you feel small and the wide windows surrounding the main living room make you feel vulnerable. You walk over to the center of his living room, next to his two black leather couches, and he walks past you to the mini bar, just off to the side of the living room. He pours himself a glass of whiskey, plopping a square ice cube in.
“I said I’m not drinking” you remind him “What happened to tea?” You ask
“I know. I spoke for yourself not me.”
You huff, stand up and cross your arms.
“Well I’m not going to look like a fool and not drink when you do.”
“Be my guest.” He smirks and you roll your eyes
“Ok you got me here. What do you want to clear the record on?” You ask, taking a glass of whiskey from him.
“I just think if you got to know me then you’d be less bias in your reporting.”
“Less bias…” you mutter, chuckling under your breath, taking a sip of whiskey. It burns your throat and you try to keep your face neutral, but truth be told you didn’t drink alcohol with such a strong taste. He walks up to you, his tall frame backing you into the couch slightly until, your knees hit the back and you unexpectedly sit down. He continues to stand over you for a moment, then he smirks and sits on the couch opposite of you. He spreads his legs, resting his elbow on one with his drink in hand. He leans forward slightly, studying you. He cocks his head to the side, a small smile creeping on the side of his lips.
You tentatively sip your drink, then set it down on the table. You reach inside your bag for a pen and notepad.
“So, you were hoping for an interview.” He smirks
“Not necessarily with you. I always stay prepared.”
“That’s good. I like a girl who is ready like that. Dedicated.”
Your stomach swarms with butterflies, a slow heat creeps up your body that seems to becoming from in between your thighs. You try to contain it, slowly closing your legs together.
“So…” you roll your eyes “What would you like the people of Panem to know about you?”
Coriolanus smiles and takes a beat before answering.
“What a generic question”
“You said you wanted this interview Snow.” You glare at him
“I do, but I know you’re a better journalist than that.”
You scoff and roll your eyes
“Fine. How does it make you feel to know that the Snow legacy will be effectively over after this election cycle?”
He chuckles at you, making you feel small and uncomfortable.
“You’re cute when you’re trying to be tough. Easier to do when it’s behind newsprint hmm.”
“I-I mean every word I write a-a-and you know y-you’re not doing yourself any favors acting like this either.” You say, the words coming out less confident then you would have liked
“You know what…that’s fair. I’ll play nice for you…” he stands up, striding toward you. Coriolanus stands in front of you, towering over you. He bends down, placing one hand on your knee and the other pinches your chin.
“W-what are you doing Snow?”
“What do you mean? You want me to be nice. Maybe show you a side of me that Panem doesn’t know about. Right?” He states, placing a delicate kiss to your cheek.
You gasp. He trails his hand across your cheek, cupping your jaw and tangling his fingers through your hair. His icy blue eyes peer into your soul as he gives you a wicked grin. He leans in to begin to kiss and nibble at your ear and jawline. You can’t help but to relax slightly, tilting your head back and closing your eyes.
“I can be sweet you know. Romantic even. People think a lot of things about me and I tailor the conversations to be that way.”
You temper your breathing, trying not to seem so scared, but the feeling in between your thighs seems to be naturally overtaking you.
“And you?” He snickers “You have your own little agenda don’t you girl.” He kisses your neck, wrapping his hand gently at the base of your jaw.
“I thought you said there would be no games.”
“Yeah and you told me the same thing at the gala, yet here we both are. We both know that’s been a lie anyways. I think we should promise not to lie to each other anymore. What do you say?” He growls
“Fine.” you huff
“Good girl…” he presses one last kiss delicately on the corner on your lips, squeezing your cheeks. You instinctively turn to meet his mouth, but he pulls back, forcing your face to stare directly at his own. He clicks his tongue at you.
“No no sweetheart. Not yet. But you know what… you just confirmed something for me.”
“No…” you breathe“w-what are you talking about.”
“Mmm…Maybe I should ask you if there’s anything the people of Panem should know about you?”
You scoff nervously, trying to make it seem like you’re laughing at him, hiding the mountain of fear you feel.
“You’re not the one giving an interview here. I am! Wh-what are you even talking about Snow!” Your eyes shoot open and his blue ones stare back at you.
“Hmm seems like Sejanus didn’t please you well enough then. You’re still so worked up aren’t you. He’s not really man enough is he?”
You freeze. Eyes widening and mouth going slightly agape and all Coriolanus can do is smirk at your dumb, pretty, pathetic, little face.
“Yeah.” He scoffs “Sejanus ran his mouth. C’mon princess you know how guys like to brag right? Could you imagine if my tongue slipped like that.” He whispers, emphasizing the syllables in slipped.
“If the papers knew you slept with him, then wrote that article, and bashed me in the same publication, seemingly to make him look better in comparison….” He continues “you could loose your job…” his hands squeezes your neck a little tighter
“You wouldn’t.” You spat
“Oh the tabloids would eat it up. Tell me what headline would you make for such a scandal hmm? Go on tell me clever girl. I know you like to write flashy attention getters.” Coriolanus whispers, growling the word attention deep into your ear.
“Stop. Please. I-I was just using him” you admit
“Oh yeah? Tell me more.”
“Just using him…t-to get to you..” you breathe
“Ah there you go. That’s what I thought. Now tell me…” he hisses “why do you want my attention so badly?
You whimper and sink into the couch slightly as his hot breath fans your face, prying for a response. His clenched hand under your jaw pulls you back closer to him.
“Does someone have a little crush on their future president? Hmm? Hoping they would be the one to be made First Lady? What were you hoping for?
“I was hoping maybe he would introduce you to me. Because I-I…” You whimper again
“Say it sweetheart. Say you want me.”
“A-are you going t-to tell my boss what happened between me and Sejanus? Leak it to the press?”
“I won’t. But at a cost? No more bad articles. No more bad press.”
You contemplate his offer for a second, hesitant to say yes, but you agree.
“Now say it.” He demands
“I want you”
He finally kisses you. His soft lips land harshly against your own. All the anger that he harbored towards you comes through passionately and forcefully with his kiss. He doesn’t let up, practically consuming you with his mouth. Then all too soon, he pulls away. You whine at the loss of him.
“So predictable.” He smirks. Coriolanus throws a devilish smile your way, stands up, and begins to unbuckle his belt.
“You want my attention? Show me how much you want me then.”
Fuck this is happening. Your plan works better than expected. Frankly, Coriolanus didn’t care if you had trapped him, he now had you trapped, because Snow always lands on top. He begins to trace the pad of his thumb across your lips, causing you to quiver. You look up at him, fear blazing in your eyes. He simply nods, as you paw at his trousers, sliding them down. You watch intensely as his bulge slowly appears from behind his pants. You gasp, looking up at him for what he wants you to do next.
“Go on. Make me feel good.“
You do as you’re told, placing gentle pecks against his boxers. You clutch onto his hips as he tangles his fingers in your hair, pushing you further into his crotch. He tilts his head back, groaning in pleasure. You pull his boxers down, immediately going in to trail kisses up his shaft. You take his member in your hand, stroking it slowly. His blue eyes, now clouded with lust, looks down at you, mouth agape slightly. Coriolanus knows he holds all the power in the moment, but can’t help but whimper slightly as your soft, wet lips wrap around the tip of his cock. You tease him, sucking on just the tip, but Coriolanus finds the back of your head, pushing you forward slowly. You gag slightly, which makes Coriolanus sigh in amusement. He starts to rock his hips, holding the back of your head, watching you take him so perfectly in your mouth. He moves his hand cups underneath your face, thumb stroking your cheek, admiring how pretty your eyes look all big, round, and totally focused on him. He pulls out, causing you to gasp. He lets out a small, sinister chuckle.
“Good girl. God you’re good at that.”
You lean forward to put him back in your mouth but he stops, shaking his head, holding your chin in between his fingers.
“So eager. But I know you want more.” He says, stuffing his cock back into his boxers and pants. He holds a hand out to you and you take it. He pulls you up, guiding you to his bedroom upstairs.
Once there, he closes the door, locking it. He gestures for you to sit on his bed and you do. He walks towards you, unbuttoning his cuffs. You take a moment to sink in his well manicured room. His bedsheets, a pure white, with black and gold accent trims lay flat on the mattress in an elaborate black wooden bed frame. You lay back in anticipation, taking in the soft, plush sheets that were about to be an absolute mess. As he approaches, Coriolanus finishes unbuttoning the rest of his shirt, tossing it off. Even though he’s still relatively thin, his body is toned, and you suddenly can’t stop looking at him. He stays silent as he towers over you slowly. You raise your hands up to his bare chest, admiring him, taking note of his small, individual, freckles and the happy trail leading into his pants. You catch yourself panting and feel the heat in between your legs becoming noticeable. You need to be touched.
He pulls the top of your dress down, exposing your breasts to him. He admires them, pinching and groping them, causing you to mewl. Next, he carefully bends down sneaking his hands down to your thighs, and pushing the fabric up to your hips. Coriolanus pushes you on your back, then hooks his thumbs around the waistline of your panties and slides them down, all the while kissing your pelvis, then your hip and down your thighs. You buck your hips up in response, wanting more. Coriolanus coos at you when you’re finally exposed to him, slowly lowering himself to his knees.
“Just what I thought. So needy for me.” He smirks, pressing his fingers against your core. He leans forward, slowly rubbing your clit, enchanting you.
“Tell me…did Sejanus make you this wet? This sensitive? I’ve barely touched you and you’re practically drenched.” He asks.
All you can do is simply shake your head, letting out a breathy moan in an attempt to speak. He can’t help but continue smirking at you, satisfied with the power he holds over you. However, he’s unsatisfied with your lack of response. Coriolanus slaps your pussy.
“I asked you a question…”
“No…he didn’t”
“Good.”
With that, he dives in, mouthing at your core. Coriolanus starts soft, his lips ghosting over your clit. He looks up at you, grinning against you as your needy eyes stare back into his. His mouth feel so wet and warm, you can’t help but rake your fingers through his blonde locks. You remember when he still had his curls and envy not being able to comb your hands through them, but his new, sleek look, gave him an edge that made him look dangerously handsome. Regardless you still think he looks gorgeous in between your thighs. He laps you up, relishing in how good you taste. You toss your head back, losing yourself in the enjoyment and feeling of his tongue. Coriolanus pats the side of your thigh, pulling away momentarily.
“Look at me, darling. Focus up.”
You nod and he raises an eyebrow, looking for a verbal reply.
“Yes, sorry” you agree, doing your best to keep your head up.
“You answer me when I ask you a question got it. Don’t forget manners now.” He mocks
He dives back in, this time wasting no time tasting you. His mouth envelopes your clit, eyes occasionally glancing at you to make sure you’re still watching him and you’re enjoying the pleasure he is giving you. You’re moans and whines sound slightly pathetic to your own ears, but Coriolanus simply drinks it all in, marveling in how you’re beginning to come undone. He gives your clit several deliberate licks, before drawing it in between his lips and sucking hard. You cry out at his actions, and he moans against you as you do. You buck your hips, and he clutches the hem of your dress to keep you down, pressing your core further into his face. He adds a finger, then a second. You clench down around him, feeling yourself getting closer and closer. Just as you’re about to finish he pulls back. You whine at the loss, squeezing your thighs together to make up for it.
He starts to undo his pants again, hastily pulling them down, whipping out his cock. He strokes it lazily, mouth agape as he admires your soaking pussy, thanks to him. He pulls the rest of your dress down, leaving you bare in front of him. Your breathing becomes laborious, anticipation creeping up your body as you lay eyes on his beautiful cock again. Your eyes are locked on it and Coriolanus takes notice at your gaze, smirking to himself again over the way he is able to mesmerize you.
“Oh I wish you could see your face. You’re so desperate.” He tuts, pulling his pants all the way down and stepping out of them.
He pulls you closer to him, your butt hanging off the bed slightly. After a few more strokes, he lines himself up at your entrance, pushing in without giving you a chance to fully prepare for his size. He slides in, letting out a ragged, breathy, moan as he does. Coriolanus takes a moment to fully sink into you, and when he does he hits your cervix with a hard, deep thrust. He pulls back and thrusts back a few more deliberate times then finds a good pace. He leans down eventually, capturing your lips. You can still taste yourself on his lips. You moan. Your legs wrap around his waist and nails scratch his back, which only encourages him. He ruts into you deeper and harder, gritting his teeth and grunting as he does. Coriolanus pulls away to look at you, panting. He cups your jaw, forcing you to focus on him, flashing a devilish smile.
“Is this the attention you wanted? Fucking Sej to get to me. Bet you liked being a little whore for him too.”
“H-h-he wasn’t as good as you.”
“I know that darling. That’s not what I want to hear you say though.”
“I-I like being a whore for you..” you breathe, your head starting to feel hazy.
“Mhmm. Good girl.” He whispers, drilling into you
The sounds of skin on skin and your collective moans fill the room. You warn Coriolanus to be quiet, fearful his family will return home from the dinner to hear lewd sounds coming from his bedroom. He only shakes his head at you, ignoring your pleas.
“This is my house princess. They know better than to investigate noises that have nothing to do with them. Especially coming from my room….” He breathes, his hot breath fanning your face. “So keep making those pretty little noises for me slut”
He rails you now, not holding back and expecting the same from you. All you can do is let him fuck you, your soft walls clamping down on him like a vice. He’s intoxicating, all consuming of your thoughts and emotions in this moment. You kiss his shoulder and neck as he rocks above you, clutching onto him more and more. He presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing small, tight circles.
“Mmm fuck Snow.”
“Call me Coryo” He hisses
“You feel so good Coryo. Mmm please don’t stop.”
“Oh I’m nowhere close to being done with you.”
He sits up, tossing your legs over his shoulder. Coriolanus starts to reign in his actions, slowing down his hips, staring down at your fucked out form. He admires you, almost looking sweet, but behind his facade, he was basking in how easily you seemed to have succumbed to his pleasure. And you can’t help yourself. Fucking Sejanus Plinth was nothing in comparison to the man who was currently inside you. Sejanus was gentle. Focused on your own pleasure and relishing in being able to sleep with a girl as gorgeous as you. He almost was too overwhelmed by your beauty to keep himself from finishing early, but Coriolanus was completely different. His dominant aura gave you a feeling that you haven’t felt before. The way he takes control, it excites you. His fingers return back to your clit, and you grind against them.
“There you go. Good girl. You like when I play with you like that?”
“Yes, yes yes…” you chant, nodding
“Such a pretty little whore for me aren’t you. Such an attention seeker. Look at you. Getting all the attention you want now.”
He reaches down, grabbing at your hips, he pulls you closer to him. He lifts your hips up off the mattress and starts to angrily thrust into you now, chasing more of his own pleasure. Still, he was unsatisfied and was feeling a bit greedy. Coriolanus pulls out, causing you to whine. His fingers rubbing your pussy again, slowly silencing you.
“Can’t believe you fucked my best friend just to get my attention. Is that what you like to do? Fuck to get what you want? Well two can play at that game” he pants. “And as you know princess I’m good at winning games.” He grunts
He ruts into you harsher, pushing the air out of your lungs.
“Wanna turn over and show me your pretty ass?”
“Fuck yes” you whisper.
He leans down to kiss you, pulling you up. You and him stay like this for a moment. His tongue swirling with your own, mouth consuming yours. Then he pulls back, and you turn over. You rest on your hands and knees, arching your back, presenting your ass to him just as he asked. He moans, splaying his hands across your cheeks. Coriolanus lets out a small chuckle, before landing a nice firm slap with both hands. You wince, flinching slightly. He rubs in between your legs, enjoying the way you shake for him. He inserts himself back into you, his hand moving to reach around back in between your legs. The sound of his balls slapping against your ass makes you go feral, and you lower yourself down onto the mattress more. You keep your back arched, and he moans loudly at the feeling of the new angle.
“Fuck that’s it darling. Go ahead and bounce on me. There just like that.”
Coriolanus clutches your hips, bouncing you back onto his cock. You move with him, matching his pace and speed. He feels even deeper in you like this, and with the way he continues to play with your clit, you know you’re close to coming undone. Coriolanus is close too. He gives your ass another slap, then another, and a few more on the other cheek.
“Oooh so good. You take me so well. Did Sejanus fuck you like this?”
“No no no no…” you cry.
“Did he make you come like I’m about to?”
“No”
He ruts into you at an unbearable pace. His grunts becoming more and more animalistic. You can barely hold yourself up and he notices the way your legs wobble. Coriolanus pulls you up against his chest. It only takes a few more thrusts to make you fall apart on his cock. You spasm around him, jerking around. You gasp as you do, holding onto him, the feeling of pleasure so overwhelming.
“Goood girl. That’s it…cum all over my cock. Fuckkk such a little slut.”
“Fuck…oh fuck Coyro..I-I-I…” you babble
He merely laughs at you, thinking how good you feel on him fucked out. His lips part, placing a few sloppy kisses to your cheek.
“Felt good didn’t it?” He asks
“Yes…” you murmur nodding vigorously
“Good.” He pulls out, turning you over and pushing you softly back onto your back. You barely process it as he slips back into you.
“Gotta finish too. Fuck you’re still clenching me darling. You like being fucked after you come?”
“Yes. Fuck are you going to come in me?”
“No…I’ll finish on your tits.”
Not too long after he declares his intentions, he pulls out. He finishes on your breast and stomach, the ropes of cum spread out on your body. When he finally finishes, he rests his sweaty forehead on yours. Your breathing becomes in sync.
“No more bad press. Got it?” He asks, tilting your chin to meet his eyes
“Yes, Coryo.”
“Good. I’ll get you a towel. Clean you up.”
He stands up, walking out of the room feeling satisfied with himself. You reflect on the experience, feeling satisfied in your own right. He may have changed your mind on your next article, but you got him to pay attention to you, which makes you feel somewhat victorious over the next president of Panem.
꧁❧✽☙꧂
#dark!coriolanus snow#dark!coriolanus snow x reader#toxic!coriolanus snow#Coriolanus snow x fem!reader#coriolanus smut#coriolanus x you#coriolanus x reader#smut#tbosas#tom blyth fanfiction#tom blyth#sejanus x reader#sejanus x you#sejanus plinth#tbosas fanfiction
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Chapter 5: Dodgeball
Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.
Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)
Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst
Word Count: 4k
Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses
A/N: Exams are finally over, so here's an update. Hope you enjoy!
Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty
Your gaze stayed fixed on the man before you, hunched over as he cradled his bruised jaw with one hand. Was this what Principal Park had meant when he had said the Academy wasn’t entirely safe? You had assumed that he had been referring to secret abductions in the middle of the night or underlying schemes being formulated in the shadows.
Not outright attacks being done in the centre of the main hall while the morning’s sunlight still shone brightly.
You paused as the sound of expensive dress shoes striking against the marble floor echoed around the hall, each step slow and confident to reveal someone entering through the same doors the guy a few metres away from you had stumbled through just a few seconds earlier.
You would have ignored whoever it was and walked over to the guy still crouched on the floor, but at the last second your gaze caught onto a few strands of dark purple, causing your head to snap towards him in shock.
Jimin’s brother paused at the doorway, scanning the main hall nonchalantly with those familiar occult red eyes. Even without the dimly lit atmosphere and dark shadows he seemed just as menacing as he had last night. The only difference was that now you could just barely pick up on an underlying anger lurking behind the nonchalant facade.
His gaze flickered to you for a moment, taking in your standing form beside the Tree of Life, before it ultimately fell on the guy on the floor.
At the sight of Jimin’s brother the guy pushed himself off the ground quickly with wide eyes and hands hovering upwards in a sign of surrender.
Wait… was he the one that was doing this?
As if to answer your question, Jimin’s brother walked over to him and grabbed his collar with a gloved hand, dragging him with it until he slammed him against the nearest wall.
The main hall began to fill with students from the dining hall, all of whom seemed curious, and clearly entertained, by the current state of events. They all made sure to give the two a wide area of space though, evidently making sure they wouldn’t get involved.
Typical.
You didn’t know if you wanted to get involved either. There was that feeling back in your chest, the one of elation whenever you watched men fight each other; whenever they decided to inflict pain on their own rather than on you. You knew it was wrong to feel that way, your hate didn’t blind you that much, but you still couldn’t seem to help yourself.
Come on, don’t be a monster Y/N, you thought with a sigh.
You forced yourself to take a step towards the two, opening your mouth to reluctantly stop whatever was going on, but then paused as you suddenly recognised who Jimin’s brother had pinned to the wall.
Wasn’t that the guy that had bullied Seokjin yesterday? What was his name… Jihoon?
“Look man,” Jihoon said, hands still up in surrender as Jimin’s brother held his collar, “I don’t understand what I did! Please just let me go, I’ll do whatever you want!”
“Oh?” Jimin’s brother grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes that did not match his calm tone, “not so tough now, are we?”
His gaze dropped to the bruise on Jihoon’s jaw, which was now turning an ugly shade of purple, “that’s disappointing, I was expecting a good fight.”
You watched Jihoon cower a bit when his gaze raised to meet his once again, “you want me to leave you alone?”
“Y-yes,” Jihoon answered, so quickly that you almost felt bad for him. Jimin’s brother nodded slowly, clearly relishing in his fear.
“Okay, but only on one condition.”
Jimin’s brother leaned forward to whisper something in his ear, but to your surprise, Jihoon seemed to freak out at the action. His head immediately jerked backwards, causing it to hit against the wall behind him roughly. A pained groan escaped his lips.
You narrowed your gaze at the excessive reaction. You knew Jihoon was a coward the second you had caught him preying on Seokjin, but still… Jimin’s brother had only leaned forward. Was Jihoon really that scared of him?
Jimin’s brother ignored the reaction, waiting for him to stop groaning over his head, before he leaned forward once again and whispered something near his ear. You felt everyone strain their ears to try and listen to his words, but they were spoken much too low for anyone, including you, to hear.
His words elicited another reaction from Jihoon, but this time it was more of a shocked response than a frightened one.
“You what?!” He said incredulously, his hands dropping to his sides.
But one withering glare from Jimin’s brother suddenly had him nodding instantly, “wait- okay! Okay, I swear!”
“Great,” Jimin’s brother grinned with fake amusement for a moment before it dropped.
“Now get lost.”
Jihoon scrambled away from him the second he was freed, half running through the front doors of the academy. It was almost comical the way Hannah, the blonde foreigner that had been with him yesterday, ran after him while calling his name. The two definitely made for an interesting pair, you’ll give them that much.
You looked back at Jimin’s brother, only to find him already walking out of the hall without another word. His expression was far from the amused cocky bastard from last night, this time filled with hidden rage that you questioned. You distantly wondered what Jihoon could have possibly done to make him so angry.
“Cheonsa,” a voice behind you stated suddenly.
You turned around to find an unfamiliar girl standing next to you, dressed in the same Elitist Academy uniform as your own. Similar to Hannah she was also a foreigner, but her dark brown hair was pulled into short braids under her maroon cap while her light brown skin stood out against her cream-coloured collar.
“Sorry, what?” You asked, unsure of what she had just said.
While the students that had stayed to watch the spectacle began making their way to their classes, she just continued to stand beside you and stare at the door in which Jimin’s brother had disappeared behind, “the guy that just practically beat up Jihoon, his name is Park Cheonsa.”
“Cheonsa?” You repeated, tilting your head slightly, “that’s an… odd name.”
The word itself translated to ‘angel,’ but you’d never actually heard anyone use it as a name before. The irony of someone like him being named angel was also not lost on you.
“He’s the principal’s son, which is why he can get away with acting out like that. I’d be careful around him if I were you.”
You almost snorted, but held yourself back at the last minute so that you didn’t come off as rude. Everyone in this academy had rich parents that allowed them to act however they wanted, it was practically a requirement in order to get into the school.
Still, it was sweet of her to give you a warning anyway.
You gave her a smile, “thanks for the warning… I guess. What’s your name?”
“Oh right!” She breathed with an embarrassed smile, “I almost forgot, I’m Amelia!”
“Y/N,” you offered, “it’s nice to meet you, Amelia.”
“It’s nice to meet you too Y/N, you’re really nice,” she said, then added shyly, “it’s been kind of hard to find nice people in this Academy.”
You regarded her for a moment, contemplating her words. She must have been from one of the more lower class families. In a place where everyone was rich, the students treated each other based on how rich their families were. So while Amelia was far from worrying about when her next meal would be, she and the students like her were probably taking the brunt of the bullying in this place.
It was a sad truth, one that had you sympathising with her.
“People can be real jerks, I totally get it,” you agreed, offering her another smile, “but if it means anything, you can always consider me a friend. Only if you’d like to, of course.”
To your surprise, Amelia frowned, “that’s very kind of you, but… if you’re seen with me, won’t they start targeting you as well? I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
You couldn’t help but smile, a light chuckle escaping your lips before you could stop yourself, “you don’t have to worry about that, I’ll be fine.”
You were sure word must have gotten out by now about who you were. Whether it was regarding your ability or the identity of your parents, either piece of information would be more than enough to protect you from any kind of bullying.
“Besides,” you continued, giving her a dramatic frown, “I don’t even have any friends. You’re really going to let me die of loneliness?”
Amelia just laughed, shaking her head at you, “I didn’t realise your life was on the line here. In that case, how can I say no?”
With a smile, you checked the time on your phone, noticing that your class was about to start soon, “I have class right now, so I need to get going. Maybe we can meet up during break?”
“Really?” Amelia said, almost in surprise, as her expression brightened at the offer, “of course, I would love to!”
You nodded, “great, I’ll see you later in that case.”
You started to turn around, feeling bad that you couldn’t stay and talk to her for longer since you knew being late to class wasn’t going to do your grades any favours, but was stopped when Amelia suddenly placed her hand on your shoulder at the last second, as if she had needed to work up the courage to do it.
“Hey, listen…” She started hesitantly, “before you go, I just wanted you to know that I’ll stand up for you if people start treating you badly because of me. I’m not the type to just watch a friend suffer silently.”
You smiled at her thoughtfulness. Obviously it was too early to tell, but you had a feeling that Amelia was going to become a pretty close friend after today. Or maybe that was just something you wanted to happen and you were projecting. Either way, you had no issues with getting closer to the sweet girl standing before you.
-
-
-
“You’re joking right?”
Namjoon stared at you incredulously, his eyes narrowing in that way that always seemed to make whoever his target was at that moment feel like they had a baseball for a brain. Hell, it used to make you feel like the dumbest person on Earth until you finally stopped letting it get to you.
You were sitting in the same History of Magic 101 class as yesterday, except the size of the class had evidently decreased. Instead, the lecture hall was now only filled with 8 other students, male students, aside from yourself, just as Principal Park had explained.
“The ability to control magic was completely absent during the Mesozoic era,” Namjoon continued to insist, crossing his arms over his chest.
You sat back in your chair, mimicking his action with a raised brow, “tell that to the dinosaur bones that were recently discovered to have traces of magic in them.”
He scoffed, “humans are the only species with the ability to influence magic, so how could this ability have existed when humans didn’t?”
Making sure to keep your gaze on Namjoon, you focused on your peripheral vision to study Ms. Kari, who was standing on the podium. To your delight, you noticed her hands placed frustratedly on her hips as she gave both you and Namjoon a look mixed with exhaustion and irritation.
“And how do you know dinosaurs couldn’t control magic back then?” You questioned, focusing back on the man sitting a few seats away from you to goad him further, “it would explain the traces of magic found in their bones.”
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Cheonsa throw his head back in a muted groan before propping himself forward on his hands with a sigh. The rest of the class looked back and forth between the two of you, whether invested in the debate or confused by it you didn’t know.
“The magic in their bones could have come from anywhere!” He argued, “it could have been absorbed from their surroundings or simply remnants of life magic from when they were still alive! Today’s animals lack the ability to influence magic, therefore it’s likely that the dinosaurs were the same.”
“Not necessarily,” you shot back, “perhaps dinosaurs became extinct due to their ability to influence magic while animals today survive only because they cannot? You ever heard of selective pressures, Namjoon?”
“Then what about-”
“This is the fourth time you both have broken into an argument after I asked a simple question to the class,” Ms. Kari finally spoke, interrupting Namjoon with a scowl, “I understand that you two seem to already have extensive knowledge on the class material, but these outbursts are disrupting my teaching.”
“If they don’t stop, I will have to start taking more severe action,” she threatened, making sure to look both you and Namjoon in the eye, “is that understood?”
Namjoon gave you one last look before turning to face Ms. Kari once again, “yes, Ms. Kari.”
“It won’t happen again,” you added.
But you lied.
It was definitely going to happen again.
If Principal Park wasn’t going to switch your cohort, then you were just going to have to take matters into your own hands. See, if you were to keep causing disruptions in class, Ms. Kari would eventually have to take it up with the Principal. And since Principal Park would have to take action, but can’t kick you out of the school, he would have no other choice but to switch your class. He’d probably switch you to private tutoring, which you were no stranger to.
All you had to do was argue with Namjoon a few times per class, which was beyond easy considering Namjoon’s unlimited ego and his constant need to prove himself right all the time.
If everything went as planned you’d be out of here by the end of the week.
But until then, you’d have to survive your classes the way they were at the moment.
So you did.
The rest of the class went smoothly for the most part, aside from a couple more small arguments you started between yourself and Namjoon, until the bell rang and everyone began making their way to the next class.
You walked into the women’s dressing room, making sure to lock it before beginning to change out of your uniform. Your next class was physical education, which required you to slip into your academy-issued gym clothes. The gym uniform consisted of a white, fitted short-sleeve t-shirt that had been tailored to your exact specifications and loose red shorts that ended just below your mid-thigh. You decided to also pull on the matching red zip-up sweater, with the gold emblem printed on the lapel unlike the formal uniform, wishing that it would protect you from more than just a chilly breeze.
You fixed your hair up into a ponytail as you walked out of the dressing room and started making your way out of the academy. The physical education class was to be held in the field in front of the school, so you stepped onto the grass reluctantly while scanning the area.
The guys had already arrived, each of them wearing the same uniform you were while lounging around or just casually chatting with one another as they waited for the Professor to arrive. Some had opted to wear the sweater while others had chosen to discard theirs haphazardly at the edge of the field.
You chose to stand off to the side, unable to stop yourself from sulking a bit at not having anyone to talk to. It sucked to be in a class full of men, but you reminded yourself that you just had to wait it out for one week. Then, hopefully, your plan would grant you some form of peace.
Too in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Yoongi had walked up to you until he was standing right beside you with his arms crossed over his chest. He stood for a moment, completely unnoticed by you until he suddenly spoke.
“Stop that.”
You turned to him, gaze unintentionally falling on the black patch covering his left eye. It came as a surprise to you that he had approached you and started up a conversation considering he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy talking to others.
“Stop what?” You replied, turning your face away to study the field once again.
“You’re practically burning holes through everyone’s head with your glare,” he commented, “stop it, it’s annoying.”
You scoffed. What was up with this guy and always trying to tell you what to do? Maybe Jungkook was right and he really was some creep that was into that or something.
“If it bothers you so much, you can always just go away,” you said.
You could feel his gaze boring into the side of your head, making you shift uncomfortably before you turned to glare at him. He only titled his head slightly.
“You know,” he started, “Namjoon told us about your obvious hate towards our gender. Care to explain the reasoning behind such strong feelings?”
“No.”
He narrowed his eye, opening his mouth to probably prod you further, but to your relief you noticed the Professor stepping onto the field.
He was a tall guy, maybe one of the tallest men you’d ever seen, and dressed in a dark grey tracksuit and black dress shoes. The zip of his jacket was pulled down halfway to reveal a white collared shirt and a neatly-made maroon tie. Everything about him seemed neat. His dark brown hair was trimmed and brushed tidily to the side while his gleaming black framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.
Without another glance towards Yoongi, you made your way towards the Professor alongside the other guys. You all formed a ring around him, waiting for him to start the class.
“This is Physical Education 101,” he said gruffly, “I’m Professor Son, but you will only refer to me as sir. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir!” You all exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had joined the military.
“Now I know what most of your old high school Phys Ed classes must have looked like,” he said, eyeing each and every one of you, “they were seen as a break from studying, usually a period to waste time and have fun.”
“But from now on you can forget those days, because moving forward this class will take everything out of you. It will be merciless, just like the real world, so you’ll learn to suck it up, and hopefully, by the end of it, you’ll make something of yourselves.”
Mr. Son rested a hand over his hip as the other stroked his chin in thought.
“Since today’s your first day, I’ve decided we’ll play a game of dodgeball,” he said. Then, as if a thought just occurred to him, he suddenly began to laugh, “hope you survive enough for your next class.”
There was something… scary about his laugh. While Cheonsa’s laugh had sounded like a warning, his just sounded cruel. But you were only playing dodgeball, how bad could it be?
When he finally let his laugh subside, Mr. Son waved a hand around, “now get into two teams, you’re old enough to do it on your own.”
At his words, everyone hurried to place themselves into a group as quickly as possible. Mr. Son was clearly one of the mean teachers, and no one wanted to get on the bad side of a teacher that already had it out for you.
Since none of the guys really knew each other that well, the groups formed pretty much based on how close to each other everyone was standing. In a matter of seconds, groups of four students had formed on either side of you.
The only issue was that you had been standing mostly in the middle of the two, making you hesitate for a moment. With the groups already being equal, and you standing directly in the middle of them, you didn’t know which one you were meant to go into. But under Mr. Son’s scrutinising eye, you quickly shuffled over to the group on the right, barely paying attention to who was in that team.
You unintentionally ended up standing next to Jungkook, who gave you a grin. He was one of the guys who had decided to discard the zip-up sweater and instead wore only the white, short-sleeve shirt with his red shorts. Under the sunlight you could make out an athletic, but toned, body, the thin material doing a poor job of hiding his prominent muscles.
“You have a good eye, Y/N,” he said as Mr. Son turned away from the groups, “you’ve skillfully chosen the winning team, congratulations.”
Your gaze strayed from him to study the rest of the group. It was annoying that you had ended up in the same group as Namjoon, Jimin, and Yoongi, and of course Jungkook. But then again, joining the other group would have meant being teammates with Taehyung, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Cheonsa, who were equally annoying. Basically it was a lose-lose situation either way.
To your left Hoseok, who was on the other team, snorted, but his expression was humorous, “sorry, what was that? Did you say the losing team? Because if so you’d be right.”
“In your dreams maybe,” Jungkook laughed, only for Mr. Son to roll his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, leave the trash talking for the actual game,” he said as he brought out his wand and directed it towards the centre of the field. A neat line of dodgeballs appeared from thin air, bright red and soft-looking under the sun.
“Though we’ll see how much you’ll feel like talking soon enough. Now get in position.”
The two teams immediately separated, walking to either side of the field before crouching over the white line outlining its edge. You opted to crouch beside Jimin, who gave you a quick thumbs up before refocusing on the dodgeballs in the centre of the field.
Even though you didn’t care much about winning a stupid game of dodgeball, you couldn’t help but study the other team anyway. Hoseok seemed the most into it as he called out suggestions to the rest of his team for reaching the dodgeballs before everyone else, while Cheonsa just rolled his eyes at the effort. Beside him Taehyung seemed just as apathetic, but he seemed to at least be a little less apparent about it. Seokjin, on the other hand, seemed like he wanted to be anywhere except here.
The difference in attitude between Hoseok and his team was almost laughable.
The nine of you watched Professor Son walk alongside the sidelines of the field until he paused beside the line of dodgeballs. He brought out his phone, seemingly checking something, before he faced you all once again.
“The game begins at the sound of the whistle,” he announced, earning him a few nods.
“Three,” he began to count, “two”
“One.”
Mr. Son suddenly brought his wand upwards, flicking his wrist so that it rounded into a circle in the air. Not even half a second later the sound of a shrill whistle cut through the silence, as clearly as if someone had blown into one right beside your ear.
“Begin!”
#Kim Seokjin#Kim Namjoon#Min Yoongi#Jung Hoseok#Park Jimin#Kim Taehyung#Jeon Jungkook#Jin#RM#JHope#Suga#Jimin#V#Jungkook#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts series#bts#bts au#bts magic au#magic au#jin x reader#namjoon x reader#suga x reader#jimin x reader#taehyung x reader#jungkook x reader#hoseok x reader#bts x reader
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Disaster. Part 2. —Joao Felix.
summary: second part of disaster.
warnings: YES. +18. smut. unprotected sex, some choking kink, cursing, role play.
words count: +1.9k.
tag: @yourknightinshiningarm-or
Yes. It was too late.
Kissing him had not been a good idea, it was clear. Nothing had been a good idea. Not the date, not having him bring you home, not letting him touch you, not kissing him in the first place.
It had all been a disaster. You shouldn't have listened to your friend. Now there were consequences and the consequences were going to eat away at your head for life but you couldn't help but run back to him and kiss him desperately before you locked yourself in your house.
Damn. You couldn't even think about it when he himself also ran to you and took you in his arms. You had missed his touch, his mouth, his warmth so much. You hated him so much. So much that every time you felt him near you, you wanted him to take you right there.
Your body longed for his touch, the fire in your chest could only be quenched by Joao, the thirst you had could only be quenched by him.
His kisses were going to your neck when he slammed you against the door of your own house, moans escaping your lips like desperate cries. And yet he hadn't really touched you yet. You were desperate. His hands moved across your belly, back and ass, they went back and forth, they couldn't stay still.
You wanted to hit yourself, to curse yourself, to scold yourself. But you were enjoying his mouth, you were lost in the feeling of pleasure and power. Everything had been a disaster from the beginning, at least you wanted to have some reward at the end.
You took his hand guiding him to your couch and with your arm you pushed him until he fell onto the cushions. His eyes were a jet black with a special glow that made you bite your lip, his mouth swollen and red and his body tense and needy for you. It made you feel powerful. You climbed on top of him, taking his jaw to kiss him. Hard and hot. Just like he was underneath you. Needy.
Your legs were at his sides and when his hands slipped into your shirt, you gasped as you felt his cool fingers caress your skin. He caught your lips as one of his hands went to your chest and squeezed it making you cry out in his kiss. On the fabric of your lace bra, he played with your nipple, giving it little deep touches, which drew moans from your throat. He had power over you too. And he knew how to show it.
His lips become like an addiction for you, you can't stop kissing him, his sweet taste has you cloying and you feel like you'll die to have them. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and lift it up your arms, so you help him take it off. Within seconds his fingers are on the clasp of your bra and he hurriedly removes it. His gaze focuses on your breasts and you try to cover them with an embarrassed look but he stops you and looks at you.
You have never felt ashamed of your body but with Joao it was different. It always was. Now you are an adult but deep inside you are still that teenager who lost her virginity to the same man who is touching her and vague memories come back to your mind.
Fuck him. You don't have to be ashamed of anything, so you gain confidence and show him that you've matured too. That you are not the same girl you were before, the one who let him take a part of you and break you. You want to forget about that Joao, the immature teenager who treated you like just another one and you want to enjoy this new Joao for your own pleasure. You can do it, you can also enjoy without feelings.
His mouth goes to your breast and when his lips take your nipple, you squeal holding his hair tightly. His tongue works wonders on your nipple while his fingers squeeze the other one free.
The wiggling in your hips seeks friction as you moan his name over and over, you are eager to feel him inside you, so much so that you can feel your wet heat soaking your underwear. Joao's bulge beneath your center makes you gasp. There are no words to describe what is happening, you can't find the ideas in your head to think.
The clothes on your body end up lying somewhere in your living room, your hands can't get enough when it comes to touching each other, your voices moan in tandem as you sit. Your body is on top of his at every moment, as you kiss, as you touch, as you look at each other.
He himself helps you settle on top of his lap preparing you to position yourself on top of him, you grasp the base of his cock and line it up at your entrance, stroking it a little on your wet lips, making you both gasp loudly. His gaze meets yours and he holds you tight as you sink into him, moaning as you feel his hard and hot cock opening up room in your tight walls. The connection between his eyes gives off pure sparkles that light up the atmosphere, gasps beginning to sound as he continues to try to settle inside you.
Your hands rest on his shoulders as his hands help you move over him. The movements are relaxed at first, taking time to feel, to enjoy, his lips placing small kisses on your neck, chest and breasts as you move up and down on his cock, holding onto his muscular shoulders. The sensation leaves you lost in a world apart, you can't see clearly, the atmosphere feels suffocating, so much so that you can smell the fluids of your bodies, making it more exciting.
Your voices sound in unison, moaning as the movements become harder and faster. You pull away from his mouth as the pressure in your belly begins to grow, you stretch your body backwards helping to support yourself with your hands on his knees as you continue to jump on top of Joao, who with his hand runs down your body, starting from your lower belly, up your belly and chest, until he anchors himself on your neck.
You let out a cry as his hand wraps around your neck, exerting a little pressure, making you explore a pleasure you've never felt before.
"That's it baby, move" he gasps at your intense frenzy.
You bite your lip so hard you feel the metallic taste in your mouth and squeal again and again as his hands press on your soft spots.
Damn it. Your vision blurs, your ears are dazed and the air starts to go out of your lungs. Your legs start to burn from the exhaustion of riding him but you can't stop not when you're so close to climaxing.
"Fuck, Joao, i'm going to come..." you scream moving even faster, so close to your orgasm.
"Hold on a little longer, baby" he asks at your near tremors.
You do your best to hold on, stopping your movements a little to settle back into him, your chest are pressed against each other and you feel his hands on your back, hugging you.
Your movements are slow, torturous, he is suffering, you can see it in his eyes. You want to make him understand that you have the power and that if he wants to come with you he has to give you something in return.
"Kiss me, baby" he says teasingly, panting but enduring your torture.
You try to hold on but you know you won't last long, you need it, you need to explode.
"I hate you, Joao Felix" you spit so close to his mouth you can feel him smile over your lips.
He opens his mouth to receive you but you don't kiss him, you just stand there, brushing his lips against yours as you start to vehemently jump on top of him again. You can't hold back as your walls begin to contract, as his cock feels so good inside you. Your movements are erratic, unrestrained.
You scream as your orgasm hits your center but Joao's lips take over to take your mouth and shut you up long enough, starting to kiss you fiercely. You feel his penetrations start to become violent, desperate to reach his spot as well and it's a matter of seconds when you feel his liquid spill out of you. Juices begin to drip down your thighs as his mouth continues to kiss yours. Your body feels weak, dazed and shaky, you fall limp in his lap, holding onto his hard chest.
You both lie there, Joao still inside you, as you try to regulate your breaths and settle your thoughts. Your chest rise and fall as his hands caress your lower back, warming you.
You have so many things to say, so many things to think but you can't move from there. Every second that passes you long for Joao more and you don't want to let go.
You were a disaster, literally.
The blind date was a disaster but at least you ended up fucking like the gods, now you feel it was worth everything. You're still mad at him though, you want to hit him and curse him but you want him to fuck you non-stop. Joao had always had that effect on you.
You really hated everything about him.
So much that you couldn't stop thinking about kissing him.
«Damn you, Joao»
He had turned you into a disaster.
#football imagines#imagine#football one shot#fc barcelona#joao felix x you#joao felix imagine#joao felix#joao felix x reader
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𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖕𝖎𝖊𝖈𝖊 𝖎𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖑
𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 3:
Birds chirping, soft and peaceful waves hitting the ship. Maybe this was a dream? Y/n's life has always been chaos, chaos and more chaos and now she's a part of her brother's crew?
Y/n's eyes flustered open, meeting the bright sunlight coming from her cabin window. She got off the hammock, rubbing her eyes, she went into the bathroom which was smaller than she expected.
A sigh escaped her lips as she stepped into the shower.
After a good hot shower, y/n stepped out the shower wrapped a towel around her body, then she heard a knock.
"why right now!?"
she mumbled to herself and put up her outfit which looked like this:
(from Pinterest)
She opened the door, revealing the somewhat panicked navigator, Nami.
"Hey! y/n, um I just wanted to ask have you seen Sanji?"
Nami asked waiting for y/n's answer.
"The cook? No I haven't, why?" Y/n replied, leaning against the wall.
"Well um he is kind of missing.. he have been trying to find him everywhere but no trace of him"
Nami answered, before Y/n could even process the information, the both heard a yell from Luffy.
"Everyone! Crew meeting in the deck now!"
Luffy had the same panicked tone as Nami.
Nami and y/n hurried to the deck finding, Zoro leaning against a wall, Ussop trying to calm Luffy down, and Luffy almost at the point of raging.
"Okay there is a serious problem here, Sanji is MISSING"
Luffy blurted out, Y/n's eyebrows raised as she tilted her head.
"How can he go missing? Our ship was locked and secured the whole night"
She said.
"That what we all are asking!" The crew said together.
"Well do guys have any enemies that would do these things?"
Y/n questioned.
"No.... Wait, yes! We do!"
Nami answered.
Who? That stupid clown?"
Zoro replied sarcastically.
"Yes! Maybe it's binkey!"
Luffy said making the crew sigh.
"It's Buggy!!"
They all said in reunion except Luffy, of course.
Luffy laughed in response.
★time skip orange town★
The crew hurried went to Buggy's circus. Finding none other than the clown himself.
"Finally, you people arrived, looks like there is also an other fool who joined the crew"
Buggy said, referring to y/n as the "fool". But still Y/n stayed calm, her eyes were burning holes into the clown's head.
"Where is Sanji!?!?!?"
Luffy shouted, his voice echoing through the circus.
"Oh I just gave him a nice treatment of pain..... He didn't seem to enjoy it tho, oh well it's not like I was going to kill him.....Was I?"
Buggy said with his cocky confidence which was bothering everyone.
"Where. Is. Sanji."
Nami growled, Buggy can feel the tension coming from the crew, this is what he wanted.
"Well if you want your crewmate back.... You have to fight me"
He said with a cocky smirk, thinking he was going to win.
Without warning, Luffy immediately punched Buggy, sending Buggy whole head flying back.
Taking this as a chance, y/n took the nearest cloth rag and stuffed head into the bag, tieing it so he won't get out.
"Finally that shitty clown shuted up"
Y/n said throwing the bag out the circus.
The crew sighed in relief, then Zoro spoke up.
"Okay, let's go find the cook"
The crew agreed and searched for Sanji together.
Finally they found Sanji in the broom closet.
He looked horrible. He had a slash on his wrist, a bruise on his cheek and some blood on his forehead. He was also unconscious.
Nami was the first one to run over to him, trying to shake him awake but still no response.
Y/n was also slightly panicked seeing his condition. Then y/n spoke up.
"We should take him back to the ship"
The crew agreed and took the cook to the ship, laying him on the bed. Y/n checked his pulse which was stable for now.
The crew watched with worried looks.
"His going to be okay, right y/n?"
Ussop questioned, concerned for Sanji's wellbeing.
"His heartbeat is stable, someone needs to monitor him for the night, I'll do it."
Y/n replied making the crew relieved.
"Okay, take care of him, y/n"
Luffy said. Y/n sighed in response.
The crew went back to they're duties, checking in on Sanji time to time.
★time skip to night★
Nami cooked dinner for everyone <3
As the night settled in everyone went to their cabins except y/n since she was looking after Sanji.
While y/n was changing his clothes she heard a faint mumbled from the cook.
"Y/n is sooo pretty"
Y/n couldn't help but chuckle, this boy is flirty even when unconscious.
Maybe this crew isn't bad afterall.
Author's note: sorry if this is short, I'm trying to make y/n get along with all the members.
#one piece#ace x reader#luffy x reader#monkey d. luffy#opla x reader#roronoa zoro#sanji x reader#trauma#zoro x reader#one piece luffy#opla zoro#opla buggy#opla sanji#one piece live action#sanji#one piece fanart#op law#opla#zoro#eiichiro oda#one piece x reader#fantasy#fanfic#fandom#funny
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Bonus 6: Dress-up
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#better drawn mdzs#mdzs#bonus comic#lan wangji#wei wuxian#Its the dawn of a new arc! Which means a new day! And new outfits for our duo as chosen by all of you!#Bte; mxtx never said lwj *wasn't* wearing lingerie under his hanfu the entire time so....#It makes him feel confident! And he enjoys it! AND he looks good in it.#wwx has NOT yet noticed. He keeps looking away to give lwj privacy while he changes. This is slightly devastating to lwj#at the end of the day he's wearing it for himself but he would like to be acknowledged.#I had a blast drawing this one! Lots of reference searching but I find that part kind of fun too.#I originally was going to have references to all the outfit options but oh man it got cluttered.#I did NOT trust myself to colour in the floor. My markers are getting dry & i wasn't sure about colours.#Thank you all for support with the polls! And for all the very sweet fan art and outfit propaganda!#This one is for all the people who wanted to vote for bikini lwj. Blows you a kiss (platonic).
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