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frmisnow · 3 months

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✧˖ ?!— THE ASSHOLE THAT MIGHT MAKE YOU FORGIVE & FORGET. - (NSFW.)

— ‧₊˚ — 🍸: "wanna make you hate being touched by anybody else but me, i'll be so selfish with you ??"

summary. despite your best efforts at avoiding your much-hated hookup boxer, he somehow finds a way to your apartment claiming he's here for your own good benefit, being a total ass- does he even have the ability to change? well, he's determinded to make you forgive & forget... in his own unique ways!

notes. haven't written full blown smut in quite a while aaahhhh also my longest fic up to date??? - this is part two of TWO WHORES IN A ROOM, THEY MIGHT KISS but can be read on it's own.

warnings/includes. (MDNI!!) non idol! jungkook x f! reader, they still kinda hate eachother sry (tiny bit of character development in the middle tho), elements of angst, making out, he's a bit of a dick :/, reader is kind of a therapist (pls don't go around in real life trying to fix ppl!!), tit/nipple play, riding, kook sub tendency towards the end, unprotected sex (she's on the pill tho), not proofread :/

you starred blankly at the text bubble he sent you a minute ago, hell- it was 2 am- you blinked repeatedly, reading it once more:

unknown number (jeon ) : i'm outside your apartment

you've done your absolute best avoiding him at all costs, you couldn't no- you shouldn't at all, never ever form a connection with him and though you'd usually be okay with having a little fling, you didn't want to be associated with him nor did you want to see his face. it was a hate fuck, nothing more, nothing less - but he always knew just how to ruin your plans.

you looked outside the window, actually sighting a figure, a motorcycle close to them as the person lifted it's head shortly from their phone, you quickly typed in a response.

y/n ( reader ) : how do you know my number, how do you know my adress and what makes you think i'll open the door unknown number (jeon ) : i'm cold

the simplicity of the incoming answer, made you roll your eyes, opening the window instantly after reading yelling out to the person: "i'll call the police for stalking"

he instantly yells back, "you don't actually have any intentions of calling the police. you want to see me" with every word stepping a bit closer to your apartment, now practically being next to your door.

"ha," you let out till full blown starting to laugh, "i wanna see you?" the smile from the laugh still plastered of your face, "you really think so?"

"oh i'm sure of it, what else is there to do on a saturday night? i just know you've been thinking bout my big dick all day, i know it makes you sick- but y'know what? i'm here to fix it for you" he looks up to you while delivering his dialogue in a sarcastic tone like he's the savior of the world, his smirk coming back once more.

you skipped down the stairs, opening the door just a few centimeters, enough to see your face, not enough to completly look into your apartment, answering him back now face to face, giving him a rather unimpressed look: "right, you showed up but somehow u're still blabbering 'bout me wanting you here, but whatever go on- tell me i'm the needy cockslut who wants you right now"

his hands reach out to presumably touch your tits as you make the split of the open door a little smaller so his hands won't fit through while he makes a tiny sound of disapproval in the mean time almost like a 'tsk tsk' until he starts talking again:

"you're standing here in your pjs at 2am opening up your door for no other then me and that says just enough"

you stand there silent for just a few seconds till bouncing back on his answer, "don't get it twisted, i wanted to see what you have to say for yourself-"

his smug little smirk on his face grows bigger as you speak, his words dripping with sarcasm as if you're playing right into his hands "oh so you are interested in what i have to say?"

"very much so but so far you've been talking a lot of shit which doesn't necessarly surprise me either"

jungkooks grin still remains maybe even gets bigger, his voice dripping of sarcasm, "oh c'mon you love anything that has a dick for you to suck on, you're not big on words"

you open the door a bit more further, sighing like you're tired: "well quite frankly i don't feel like having your dick in my mouth"

he runs his hands through his hair, few seconds of silence passing when he finally responds now a little more serious: "are you really gonna act like you didn't enjoy the last time we're together?"

you gulp, for the first time avoiding eye contact: "well not everything revolves around sex"

"ah well isn't that cute, trying to play innocent?" his smile suddenly disappears, his brow furrowing as he gives you a serious look, "look at me. right on the eyes"

you look him in the eyes again, voice getting just a bit louder: "you don't get it, you see any pussy and jump straight onto it then leave which would be fine- but i don't want us to be fuck buddies, i don't want us being awkward at work, i don't want to form an attraction beyond sex to you in any way and i won't even risk it- and you? you don't even think about anything, you just think with your dick"

his eyebrow raises as he lets out a chuckle and rolls his eyes, "yeah, yeah i guess i am quite a shitty guy for not wanting anything more than just to dick you down for all eternity"

you rest your head on the wall next to the door in frustration, making a sound close to a sigh again: "you'll leave me in a week, i'll get attached, you'll make fun of me- i don't want that" surprisingly honest and serious.

he stares at you for few seconds longer, you're not making eye contact anymore, still pressed on the wall your head facing downwards. he sighs and his eyes close as he takes a deep breath as if preparing himself for what he's about to say: "you really think that little of me huh?"

you respond calmly though still avoiding his eyes, admitting in all honesty: "you've given me no reason to think more of you"

and for the first time since you've ever seen him, you see jungkook generally hurt, his eyes not settling as he begins to slowly nod like he understood, taking a step back from the door, "i'll leave you alone"

you watch him take a few steps- but you just can't do this. he was right, for the first time in everything he has said so far- he was right: you wanted him. you didn't know if you wanted him beyond sex but you weren't gonna figure this out right now either so you made the spontanous gut decision, you swiftly walked behind him- grabbing his arm, stopping him.

"you can call me a dumb whore- but i've changed my decision, i don't want you to leave"

you can almost see his brain working your words out one by one till he returns to good old self, voice thick of sarcasm, a sly grin making it's way onto his face once more "oh and why's that?"

"can you shut up?"

it's a messy kiss. desperate, longing, needing - telling. his hands not settling, moving all across your body, squeezing and kneading wherever they can in a matter of time you both stumble back into your apartment, lips not breaking apart not even once even as he closes the front door with his foot, deepening the kiss mean while.

you get pushed back onto the couch, your lips still locked together as his hands move under your clothes, taking off each item of your clothing at lightning speed, like he's trying to tear them all apart.

you break away in the mean time to breathe as you basically pant, taking the short time to look down onto yourself, practically naked then look at him who still had way to many clothes on for your liking, "not fair" your words barerly good said as he basically swallowed them by kissing you once more.

he shifts his position again, wrapping his arms around your bare waist, pulling you onto his lap, groaning into the kiss, trying his best to combine keeping you in place with one hand and cupping your face rather violently with the other.

"please," you pull his pants just a bit to get your point across, "not fair" repeating what you already said like a broken toy in addition you pouted which y'know gets u sympathy points usually, you wanted to feel him- it was only fair.

"oh look who's upset?" a grin splarred over his face, tone mocking maybe even belittling, "you'll have to earn it" running his fingers through one of your hair strands till his gaze returns to your eyes.

"i thought we were over this," you whined till throwing your head back in frustration, "please, i was so nice"

"nice? you called me a shitty guy, thought little of me and basically called me a womanizer among other things." he puts both of his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart more so you sit wider on him, "and you really think that 'pretty pretty please' is gonna be enough?"

no matter how good he was of a fucker, you weren't just gonna throw away your morals for him completly so you bluntly responded: "the fact that i'm even on your lap right now after some of the shit you said is pretty damn nice of me"

"fair point" he admits and his hands wander up your body once more, tracing each and every curve of your body, holding you down tightly to stop you from moving "you're not a nice girl. you know what you are?"

you responded instantly before he could say anything, putting a finger on his mouth to pervent more bullshit coming from that pretty mouth of his: "don't call me a whore, i won't tolerate slut shaming anymore when you're just as much of one as me, if not more"

he squeezed your thighs during your little speach, acting like a brat who doesn't give two shits about whatever you're saying, "you know i love it when you try to play this 'respect me' act, acting like you really are not some little whore that just wants to get pounded into a matress till she can't take it anymore"

you rolled your eyes immediately, taking in a deep breath: "everytime i have the feeling like i'm getting somewhere with you, i'm talking you developing your brain from teenage boy age 13 to 14, you piss me of even more- god i fucking hate you"

he leans forward, his body even closer to yours, a cruel smile crossing his face, "oh i love the way you get angry" his hot breath hitting your face and his eyes locked into yours, "it makes you look so helpless"

you get closer to his face, now inches apart to make sure the next few sentences really get to him: "i just want you to know that whatever you'll think after this whole thing, i want you to know that you didn't magically pull me in, i'm not helpless neither are you the only person with good dick in this shitplace, you're an avaible option that can be replaced at any given moment, you are a whore that goes around and gets used, no matter how much you hate that fact or not, it's the damn truth, so start being a fucking man and accept it, suck it up" you say something he'd say to you, a taste of his own medicine if you will.

you see it on his face that you've managed to finally get to him, like he's actually taken aback by something for once. your words seemed to cut him deeply and he just stares at you, his breath shaky and his eyes big, wide doed like you've never seen before.

"okay," you take his hands away from your thighs locking them with yours, face still close to his, holding eye contact, "it's okay, it's okay to have sex, it's okay to want to live a free live but you have to communicate that and stop being a prick, stop using girls, stop blowing your ego up and then maybe we could have something" you whisper it as calmly as she can, squeezing his hands every once in a while like you actually want to help him.

he looked onto the both hands locked together till squeezing your hand back, his voice trembling as he tries to remain calm when speaking, "why are you still being so nice to me?"

"you know you do this thing where i look at you and you say something so good, so rational and it happens every once in a while where i think to myself- this is why i can't leave our whole thing alone cause somewhere just somewhere there still is that one valueable dude, it's just-" you sigh, till burrying your head on his shoulder in frustration, "i'm so stupid, i feel like i'll always come back to you, i don't know if that's good"

he almost automatically wraps his arms around your figure and now is the time where you actually do feel helpless in his arms, god- you were so stupid.

he buries his face in your hair, breathing you in, he didn't want to feel this vulnerable around you- it almost hurt to let his emotions show "oh c'mon- don't say that, please" his voice is shaky and his words carry a clear feeling of hurt.

"i always used to say that i don't believe that people can change, it's funny how you try to make excuses and loopholes for your morals when you actually experience something on your own," you straighten up your posture, removing your head from his shoulder, avoiding his eyes while trying to gather your thoughts.

his voice still carries the same shaky emotion as he speaks "why are you avoiding eye contact?" he burries his head against your chest, rubbing against it like trying to make you look at him, softly beginning to lick the skin.

the more he nibbles and licks on your skin, the more little mumbles against the skin are hearable, "i'll make you forgive me" or "i'll make you forget" - it's like a trance.

his tongue getting to your tits, "look at me, please" he pleads like not having your attention on him even for just a few seconds is a crime sentence - at the same time wrapping his lips around one of your hardened nipples, sucking with just as much passion.

he leaves thick traces of saliva on both ones, an occasional muffeled moan slipping out, "could do this forever, i could die happy with one of- mmh" giving both of them his full diverted attention like he had to make sure the other one doesn't feel left out.

when his head comes up from your chest, his eyes are half-lidded, hair is all over the place, a little bit of saliva in the corner of his mouth yet he instantly cups your face kissing you again and again.

everytime he breaks away just shortly to breathe he whispers something into the air then immediately kisses you, swallowing the words like they were dangerous to fly around unanswered.

"wanna do this forever, have you on my tongue over and over again till my tongue goes numb, till i can't taste or feel anymore"

"wanna have you in every position you can think of, wanna fuck you so much your body only remembers me, my shape, my dick- everything, only me"

"wanna make you hate being touched by anybody else but me, i'll be so selfish with you"

dangerous words.

dangerous words that feel a bit to real.

it's so evident he has long lost any control over himself, those eyes still so doed like he's begging you to give in, fully drop your boundaries, to give into his fantasies. eyes locking with yours to speak up just once more like he's admitting something, voice more quiet:

"fuck it, i'm already way to selfish with you"

your hands find the zipper of his pants right before opening, pausing to say something yourself, "i'm selfish too, i choose what i want in the moment instead of what would be better for me in the longterm" you pressed your lips onto his almost to shut down your own thoughts, the important ones, the conscious ones that were barerly left till breaking off again, "i don't care, not right now"

you can already feel his hard cock rub against your panties through the jeans material, "i'm so hard it hurts" he looked at you so pleadingly like you were the doctor with the medicine to safe his life, like this was a do or die situation, a tiny cheeky pout on his face, "can you fix me?"

you didn't know if he was talking about himself as a whole or his cock but regardless you took his hands in order for him to stand up so it would be easier to remove his pants and boxers doing it all in one swift motion.

making him sit down onto the coach once again, he whined at the feeling of cold air on his bare skin and you not immediately sitting down onto him, you strip down your pretty ruined panties, his eye not knowing where to look as he played with his lip ring, tilting his head like he's tryna get a better view.

his hands reach out practically on their own, yearning to get his hands onto anything yours, "sit down, ride me" jungkooks tone shaky yet he tried his best to hide that (not rly working) as he added a tiny quiet "please" at the end of it, barerly audible to the average ear.

you couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that he was behaving like a child (nothing unusual) but the laugh got cut of by a moan as your pussy practically swallowed his length, his hands instantly quite harshly going to your hips, leading you- maybe even guiding.

"fuck yea-" his voice so awfully strained as his both of your hips moved in sync, his fingernails digging into your soft skin, making you groan.

"missed this pussy so much," he moaned out, throwing his head back onto the coach headboard till he weakly added: "so obssesed with you, i've been wanting this tight- mmh, fuck- ever since-"

he couldn't finish his sentence neither did he look like he could form any coherient thoughts, face scrunched up in pleasure, a bit of sweat on his forehead- and you probably didn't look any better yourself.

your walls clenched around him out of sheer response, you were so wrong- this was such bad decision, it would be so hard to let him go after this, it would-

"gonna cum, fuck- i can't"

his pressed out words cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife, the skin slapping noises suddenly feeling louder then they had been before, your own pussy clenching around him once again.

"can't hold it back, i don-"

he was going to leave marks on your hips for sure, you bet he didn't even realize how hard he had been squeezing the poor skin, occasionally moving to your ass.

you moaned yourself, feeling your own orgasm approaching, jungkooks eyes closed, lips parting slightly like he's on the top stage of ecstasy somewhere over the rainbow as you could feel your own walls getting coated with cum.

your body instantly went weak after, lightly collpasing onto his chest as though he seemed unusually tired he wrapped his arms around your back, stroking the skin and bone structure slowly.

it felt so comforting even your eyes closed, you felt so tired- what time was it again?

"fuck- i forgot the condom" his fingers paused, the shook in his voice audible.

"i'm on the pill, we're good" you closed your eyes again, now the clear goal was to fall asleep.

yet y'know how it was with your plans and jungkook- he cut through them as he lied still for a few minutes till whispering, "i don't hate you by the way" his fingers now again continuing the gentle act on your back even slower then before like a quit lullaby, "not even one bit"

"i know"

#kpop smut #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x you #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts imagine #bts #bts ffs #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #jeon jungkook

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double-aa-batteries · 19 days

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things about about TSC I can't stop thinking about

"hindsight was a backstabbing bitch"

curtains symbolizing jeans healing journey, how he keeps them closed at Abby's in a effort to recreate the nest in search of some normalcy, how he opens them and looks out the window his new apartment, seeking calm in his overwhelm

"I want to go home" (13) meaning evermore vs. "I want to go home" (329) meaning to his apartment with Laila, Cat and jeremy

the fact that jean's phone is probably still in Abby's freezer

Kevin "their kindness matters" Day

Neil's smile is as unsettling to everyone else as it is to him and he has so much more Nathaniel in him than he recognizes in his own pov

Jean is so similar to neil in that they're both petty, dramatic bitches who care deeply about their teammates' safety

riko and the ravens quite literally took jean's name from him (Jean-Yves, Jonny, Paris)

"[Renee's] love was so tender it looked like grief as it curled her mouth and made her eyes shine"

jean gets forehead kisses from Renee and Cat

"that creepy little goalkeeper Andrew Minyard"

jean's many nicknames for neil: tiny bastard, tedious malcontent, abominable cockroach, wretched little runaway, ignorant child, etc.

Neil took the bandage off of jeans 3 and promptly stuck it over Kevin's chess peice

"I should have let him kill you," Jean said. "Probably," Neil agreed, "but you didn't, so here we all are."

"...aside from his outstanding murder charge, there was nothing interesting about that fox"

the fact that the point of tfc was to show characters who couldn't/wouldn't/ or were unable to heal from the trauma they had faced and yet from the very beginning and without question, TSC is about jean clawing his way forward and toward healing no matter what

the cheese drawer

dadmack dialed up to 1,000 See: "i will burn this house down before I let them touch you"

bisexual jean Moreau panicking over his teammates in swimsuits and Jeremy's long legs

"He's earned the right to be arrogant"

riko couldn't bring himself to hurt wymack because he was Kevin's father and Kevin was like a brother to riko and riko has always yearned for a father's recognition

Alvarez has a motorcycle and jean didn't say no to learning how to ride it

we know next to nothing about Jeremy Knox despite having chapters in his pov (why was he in therapy? why was his dad in France? what the hell did he do at the Fall banquet his freshman year to tear his family in half?)

that being said: Jeremy Knox is a rich boy with a butler

everything about Catalina Alverez

the fact that Jeremy knox has two brothers and one of them is probably dead

"rather than force the Trojans underground for that part, they simply built steps up and over it inside the stadium" the JUXTAPOSITION

Alvarez cooks and so now does jean

we know for a fact riko subjected Kevin to "subtler cruelties" while he was in the nest

"they never should have said yes when you asked" and "I didn't ask"

"as if you can tell a girl apart from a cow on a good day"

"permission to break his face, coach?" jean asked. "denied," white said.

all of thanksgiving pt. II

"alarm looked wrong on a face born for smiling"

jean casually saying "your apologies are as useful as perfume on a frog" to Lucas

Neil's whole relationship with Jean

David "I believe we all have the choice to be better than the hands that shaped us" Wymack

Neil generally being a menace to society but especially "Neil, being the person he was, pointed at the fire hydrant adjacent to it's front bumper and said, 'thats illegal, just so you know.'"

"the cracking heat in his chest could have been his ribs snapping or his heart breaking"

#tsc #tsc spoilers #the sunshine court #aftg #all for the game #jean moreau #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #jeremy knox #cat alvarez #laila dermott

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lovedazai · 1 month

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BIGGEST LIE I EVER SAID . . . you finally pick up one of chuuya’s drunk phone calls.

ft. chuuya + f!reader, exes to lovers, implied blackout, taking care of hungover chuu, making up / out, 2.5k w.c.

chuuya is more used to loneliness than he’d ever admit. it came with the nature of his ability and his line of work, but it had only taken a few months with you to completely change his world, years of defense mechanisms overwritten by your soft touches and sweet words. now that it’s over, he can’t find it in himself to break his newfound habits, stubbornly clinging to their familiarity and basking in the fleeting warmth of the embers of your relationship.

even now that he goes to his favorite bar alone, he still covers the seat next to him with his jacket. it’s the one to his right; he always chose the seat closest to the door between the two of you, just in case.

he can still imagine the lipstick mark that would be left on his glass when you’d steal a sip, and he takes one pretending he’s pressing his mouth around it. he frowns as he swallows; was there anything left that wouldn’t remind him of you?

he downs the rest of what’s left in his glass, licking the stray scarlet drop that curls onto his bottom lip. his gloved hand is numb to the chill of the wine bottle as he pours himself another; it’s the last of it. today was hard, dozens of his men needlessly dying due to one subordinate’s laziness. all he wants is to hold you and let you make him forget all about his shitty day; you would’ve threaded your fingers through his hair and rubbed his scalp, letting his tension melt away off his shoulders, and then, he would’ve kissed you until it was all out of his system. instead, he’ll stumble home and spend the rest of his night in his empty penthouse, stress sitting in a tight knot in his stomach, mixed with the queasiness of too much alcohol and the ache of longing for you that never seems to go away.

god, he fucking misses you.

he pulls his phone from his pocket with one hand, the other still carefully cradling his wine glass. he lazily presses on your contact, still saved to his favorites. his eyes trail over your photo: it’s from when he brought you out to shizuoka. your hair is windblown and knotted from the motorcycle ride there, but you’re beaming at him, cheeks dimpled and eyes closed. his black jacket is draped over your shoulders, a stark contrast to the gold and peach of the setting sun behind you.

his thumb hovers over the call button. he only does this when he’s just drunk enough to ignore how bad of an idea it actually is, and to hear the sweet sound of your voice through your mailbox. it’s always after midnight when he calls, when he knows it’s too late for you to be awake and you won’t pick up.

good. he hopes you’re sleeping well.

he finally presses down on the call button, listening to the line ring. the leather of his glove is smooth against the glass as his finger traces the curve of his cup.

one…

he counts the buzz of the rings in his head. it always took five.

two…

he thrums his fingers against the bar’s dark wooden counter in a lazy rhythm. he wonders if you’re wearing that cute pajama set he loved so much tonight, with those tiny shorts that drove him crazy. maybe you fell asleep with your light on again, the way you used to when you’d wait for him to come home.

thrー

“hello?”

everything stops: his fingers, his thoughts, his heartbeat. he pulls the phone away from his ear, making sure this is actually happening, and he wasn’t hearing your voice in some alcohol-induced hallucination.

“...chuuya?” it’s muffled, and when he brings the phone back up, he can hear your sheets ruffle as you sit up in bed, your voice slurred in a sleepy rasp. “is everything okay?”

the room feels like it’s tilting, the dim lights of the bar haloing and growing fuzzy. he thinks he’s saying something, but he isn’t sure what. he feels sick, like his stomach is twisting itself and trying to crawl up his throat; he’s about to spill his guts out.

then he wakes up.

he only opens his eyes slightly before he squeezes them shut again. everything is too bright, and his head pounds in that special way that means he’s hungover or just used corruption. he groans, rolling over and burying his face into his pillow. it feels softer than he remembers, brain feeling like it’s full of static, disoriented and half awake. he swears the sheets smell just like the perfume you used to wear.

you.

he forces his eyes back open, lifting his head. that’s your dresser in the corner. these are your sheets, and there’s you, sitting on the other edge of the bed, typing on your phone. your hair is pulled back, and he can see your profile perfectly, just as gorgeous as he remembered. you see him move from the corner of your eye, looking up and meeting his groggy gaze.

“you’re up,” you stretch over to your nightstand, handing him the bottle of water there. it’s cold, small beads of condensation dripping down the sides. “finally. drink this.”

he downs half of the bottle in one go, the chill coating and soothing his aching throat. his voice is still raspy when he speaks, deeper than usual. “what am i doin’ here?”

“you don’t remember?” you tilt your head, smiling teasingly. “i guess you haven’t changed much. you’re still a lightweight.”

“gimme a break,” he grumbles into the mouth of the water bottle, taking another big sip. he’d let you get away with poking fun at him when he felt so shitty just this once. he tells himself it’s only because your cheeky smile looked so pretty in the daylight flitting through your curtains. “i was wasted.”

“i know,” you get up from the bed, moving toward your closet and shuffling around. he watches the way your legs strain as you reach on your tiptoes for something. you are wearing those shorts he loved so much, and he tries not to stare too obviously at the way they ride up your thighs.“i’m the one who picked you up when you were half unconscious.”

he hears you sigh and the soft sound of fabric as you push shirts around until you finally pull something off a hanger.

“here,” you’re holding a white button-down, and he recognizes it immediately; he has identical ones, pressed and dry-cleaned, lined in his closet. “you’ll feel better after you take a shower.”

“you kept this?” he pinches the fabric between his fingers; silky smooth, just how he liked it. your eyes widen, hand stiffening as you grip the shirt a little tighter. “thought you said you were gonna burn all my stuff.”

“whatever,” you sigh, rolling your eyes and tossing the shirt into his lap. “it was too expensive to get rid of. you already know where the towels are.”

he does know. his favorite part of his days was coming to your place after work, and he still remembers how warm he felt when you gave him a key so he could sleep next to you on nights when mafia work ran into the early hours of the morning.

he moves sluggishly when he gets out of your bed. he grabs a towel from the little shelf in your bathroom before he turns the water on, waiting for it to get warm and looking over your counter; you still have that expensive face mask he bought for you on an overseas mission, and he remembers how he’d stood between your legs as you sat on the counter, hands smoothing the curve of your hips as you brushed it onto his skin.

he takes his time in the shower, scrubbing himself clean lazily, muscles fatigued and sore. the white tea scent of your body wash soothes him the same way it would when he’d bury his face against your neck before he fell into another dreamless sleep.

when he comes out, dried off and dressed, you’re in front of the stove, the familiar smell of miso soup lingering through the hallway. he nearly wraps his arms around your waist out of the familiarity of it all, but clenches his fists at his sides to stop himself.

there’s a bouquet of flowers in the center of your small dining room table, a bundle of camellias and baby’s breath resting mockingly in a vase filled halfway with water. he glares at them as he sits down, thinking about what asshole could’ve bought them for you. did he write you poems on the card like chuuya did? he’d bet his own money he didn’t.

“by the way, those fell out of your jacket pocket,” you break the silence, nodding your chin towards the table; it's his cigarettes, one of the corners of the cardboard box bent. “you’re smoking again?”

“yeah,” he crosses his arms, fingers digging into his biceps. “i needed a new stress reliever. guess you found one too, huh?”

“what?”

“the flowers,” he mumbles. “is he treatin’ you good?”

you turn away from him and back towards the stove, but he can picture the look on your face when you speak, voice soft and tinged with a smile. “i bought those for myself.”

“oh,” he sits up a little straighter, sulk faltering as he clears his throat. “they’re nice.”

your socked feet are quiet as you approach the table. your hands are carefully cupped around the warm bowl of soup, and his eyes catch on your freshly painted nails. you must’ve gotten them done recently, and he tries not to think about how you used to love showing them off to him, or how nice it would feel when you’d drag them up and down his skin until the hair on his arms rose. you place it in front of him, full of steaming broth, kombu, and tofu floating serenely around slices of green onion.

he catches glances at you as you join him at the table, slurping his soup quietly. he didn’t think he could ever feel so unnatural around you, but tension clouds the air, awkward and uneasy. he stares into his bowl, like it could tell him what to say to fix this when you break the silence again. “do you remember what you said to me last night?”

he cringes; the last thing he remembers is that final glass of wine and your pretty voice on the other end of the line. he sighs through his nose, almost scared to hear your answer. “what did i say?”

“you said you missed me,” you brush your finger across the lone, pale pink flower petal that fell onto your table, tracing the curve of it, not meeting his eyes. “you asked me to pick you up and take you back home.”

you knew what he really meant: take me back to your apartment. it’s barely half the size of his penthouse, but it always felt like more of a home than his place ever did. there were signs of life dotted everywhere he looked, from your sink of dishes from last night’s dinner to your favorite candle in your living room, nearly burnt down to the bottom.

“you call a lot,” you finally look at him, voice quiet. “you don’t think i notice?”

“i know you do,” he whispers. “i only call so much ‘cause i miss you.”

you blink stubbornly, eyes watering. your lips tremble as you press them together, trying and failing to hold yourself together. he doesn’t hesitate to cup your cheeks between his palms, like it was an instinct.

“c’mon,” he sighs. “don’t do that. you know how much it breaks my heart.”

“i miss you too,” your voice shakes. “i really, really miss you, chuuya,” you melt against his chest the same way you always used to, arms wrapping around his shoulders and your forehead pushing against his neck. “i just want to stay like this for a few minutes,” you whisper pleadingly, words warm against his skin.

he could almost laugh; he’d stay with you for the rest of his life in your little dining room, holding you against him. he’d break the world in two for you if you asked him to.

“you’re still the best thing that ever happened to me,” he presses a kiss to your shoulder, and his heart flutters when you don’t push him away. he holds your waist, rubbing his thumbs against the small of your back. his cheek rests against your hair, and he inhales deeply. “i mean it.”

he isn’t ready to let you go when you lift your head off his shoulder all too soon, arms still solid around your waist when he feels your lips brush against his. you pull away just as quickly, but he cups your jaw before you can get too far. you fall back into each other like you were never apart, shakily exhaling in relief as your lips slot into perfect place against his own. chuuya loves you with every part of himself, and once he started, it was ingrained in him forever; loving you became a fundamental part of who he was.

you practically crawl into his lap, seating yourself on his thigh and wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders. his tongue traces along your bottom lip, and the noise you make drives him fucking crazy; his breath stutters as you whimper against his mouth and melt between his hands. he caresses your sides with a tenderness only reserved for you, trailing down to the plush of your ass from muscle memory alone.

the edge of the table presses into his side, painfully prodding at the edge of his ribs, but all he can feel is your soft lips, parted and pliant against his, and the tip of your nails, scratching against his scalp and down his nape.

this is what he meant when he said he wanted to come back home.

“i won’t fuck it up this time,” he pulls back to look into your eyes. “it’s you and me. got it?”

you nod, cheeks wet against his palms, lips curled upward as you press a kiss to the slope of his nose.

“there’s that smile,” he grins, thumb stroking beneath your dewy lashes. “i missed it.”

“i missed you,” you press your hand against his the toned skin of his chest, feeling the heavy pound of his heart beneath your palms. “i’ve wanted to kiss you like that again for so long.”

“oh yeah?” he smirks, nose brushing against yours. “you stay up at night thinking about me or something?”

your fingertips are warm against his cheek as you shove his face away, scoffing as you slide off his lap.

“where do you think you’re going, baby?” he tugs you back, kissing the corner of your mouth. “don’t think i’m lettin’ you go again.”

BSD MASTERLIST

#💌 . . . with love mai ⊹ ࣪ ˖#chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #bsd fluff #chuuya fluff #bsd scenarios

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sivyera · 7 months

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DATING MALE CELEBRITIES WOULD INCLUDE...

ft. tyler hoechlin, jacob elordi, tom cruise, jeremy sumpter, robert pattinson, cillian murphy, henry cavill, tom hardy, sam worthington, tom felton, rupert grint

a/n: i was focused on actors that doesn't get much attention but if you have any other celebrity in mind, please let me know in the comments! also i don't know if this is good because i included their favourite things, hobbies etc (with you ofc) just to make it more detailed and not boring... so i hope you guys like it:) if you want more detailed fic or just about one celebrity, let me know!

༻♛༺

⤷ Tyler Hoechlin

-Tyler writes you love letters. Pretty often. When he cannot be with you or is busy with his job, he'll sit down at night when he's alone and write you a letter about how much he misses you, how he's doing and about his job.

-Tyler loves sports, mostly baseball. So he'll take you with him to play baseball; he doesn't care if you don't know how, he will be happy when you just throw a ball to him. He'll take you to hockey matching or ice skating, if you don't know how to ice skate, don't worry he'll gladly teach you.

-He can talk a bit Spanish so he'll sometimes call you by Spanish pet names like cariño, mi amor or querida. And he'll be all cheesy about it which makes you laugh but it's also really sweet when he does that.

-Tyler loves his family so he was a bit nervous when he first introduced you to them, because their opinion mattered to him but he also loved you. But his nervousness disappear right after you and his family clicked. His family loves you which makes Tyler so happy.

-He plays guitar so he often plays to you. He loves how your eyes light up when he plays, he just loves making you happy and if he's making you happy by playing on his guitar, he'll gladly play all day.

-Tyler also loves traveling so when he has a week off, he takes you somewhere to the forest camping or to the ocean to relax, depends where you wanna go.

⤷ Jacob Elordi

-Jacob would post you on his instagram like ALL THE TIME. On his stories or just regular post because he loves to show you of. He will also post the most random photos of you that you didn't even know he took. But he loves every single one of them.

-Because of his role on 'the kissing booth' he learned how to drive a motorcycle so sometimes he takes you for a ride, it makes the both of you feel so free and you are with each other.

-No surprise that Jacob loves sports. His most favourite are basketball and surfing. Which means he takes you to play basketball with him or watch him how he plays with his friends, cheering for him ofc. When it comes to surfing he'll gladly teach you but again he prefers when you cheer for him or just watch him after that you two will have a playful fight in water.

-Jacob is a huge cuddle bug and he just loves when you lay on his chest so he can wrap his big arms around your tiny figure. When he cannot cuddle with you he will have one of his arms on your shoulder or around your waist.

-Jacob is actually a fan of poetry so you often find him reading it, but he will be over the moon if you read him his favourite poetries. You two will also have deep conversations about the true meanings of the poetries.

-He's a huge dog lover so it will be no surprise of you two get a dog, maybe two.

-He will get your name tattooed on his chest close to his heart. And you two will get matching tattooes.

⤷ Tom Cruise

-Tom loves skydiving which makes you a bit worried all the time since it's a extreme sport but if you are also a fan of extreme sports than he'll take you with him.

-Tom likes junk food like chips, fries, coca-cola etc. so you two have almost everything that comes to your mind at home. When you two watch a movie and cuddle on the sofa, he always has some chips or popcorn.

-He loves when you read to him and he really appreciate it because he loves hearing your voice and he has dyslexia which makes it hard for him to read. He usually lays on your chest while you read to him and play with his hair.

-He's a pilot and he own several aircraft so when you need to relax and he needs to take a break from his job, you just get into one of them and fly wherever you two wants.

-Tom loves under water scenes, which makes him love water. Like I said when you two needs to take a break from work and the fame, you fly in is aircraft somewhere and the 'somewhere' it's mostly somewhere where is hot weather or beach or ocean/sea.

-Tom is famous for doing all of his stunts because he's a adrenaline junky but it makes you sometimes worried because it can be dangerous. He always make sure that after a stunt he goes to you, tells you he's okay and kiss you.

⤷ Jeremy Sumpter

-Jeremy loves traveling and his favourite color is green, which leads you two take a trip to the forest, pretty often. Just walking around, listening to the singing birds, holding each others hands and having silly or deep conversation, depends on the day and mood.

-Jeremy is a dog lover. He has a dog named Bear and he takes him on the trips to the forest you two go. Bear absolutely loves you which makes Jeremy happy.

-He loves your cooking but he himself is a bad cook so he either helps you, but you have to give him detailed informations or he just hugs you from behind and watch you cook. If you make his favourite food he will be the happiest man alive, his favourite food are spaghetti.

-Jeremy also loves sport and to his favourite ones belongs baseball and soccer. He used to play them when he was a kid so his mom shows you some of his photos where he is in a dress or something. He also takes you on matches and explains you all the rules.

-He also loves water and swimming, so when you two goes on some vacation is usually somewhere to the ocean.

-Jeremy loves the movie called 'The Deer Hunter' so you two watch it like all the time while cuddling on the sofa or bed. His face in your neck, his arms around your waist and your hand playing with his blond curls.

⤷ Robert Pattinson

-Robert is a music lover, he wrote few songs and he can also sing pretty well so it was no surprise when he wrote a song about you, then sing it to you while playing on the piano.

-He's fluent in French so when he's feeling extra romantic or just in a playful mood, he will talk to you in French or call you by some French pet names like Mon amour or Mon chéri, otherwise he calls you darling, my love or baby.

-Robert loves cooking and when is it with you, he's even more happy to do it. Sometimes when you are exhausted from job, he'll prepare you a nice dinner and visa verse.

-You two watch war, drama or horror movies together. For example 'The Exorcist' or 'Come and See' are the type of movies you two watch together, because he's a fan of paranormal same as you, which leads to deep conversations. Rob is hugging you from behind while still laying down on your shared bed. Him kissing the back of your head once in a while.

-Robert is a dog lover, he always helps the homeless dogs but he can never keep them. You two will soon get a dog and it will be one of the best decisions Rob could ever make (the first, best one was to start dating you).

-Rob is literature fan which means picnic dates. You two somewhere private, laying on a picnic blanket with some homemade food, reading books and then having deep conversations about them.

⤷ Cillian Murphy

-Cillian also loves music so it will be no surprise if he will made a song about you and he'll gladly sing it to you. He didn't write you just a one song, you have a full album of his songs that he gave you.

-At nights were you have a trouble to fall asleep, he will read to you. He will read you another chapter of your favourite book or poems he wrote (they are often about you). After he's done reading, he'll hug you tight with your head placed on his chest, rubbing small circles on your back with kiss on your forehead.

-Cillian is also a big fan of literature and he loves when you give him recommendations. He doesn't care what genre the book is (detective, romance, horror,...) if you recommended it to him, he will read it.

-You two end up getting a dog or a cat, maybe both. Because Cillian is an animal lover, you will do most of the job around the dog/cat because Cillian is often really busy but he'll always make a time for you.. and the dog/cat.

-He's big fan of a Liverpool football club so you two will often be seen on their games with matching t-shirts and caps.

-His favourite part of the day will be night (or every day time he can spend with you) because he can read to you, have you in his arms, cuddled up to his chest while placing soft kisses on your forehead, cheek, lips, neck (any part he can reach)

⤷ Henry Cavill

-Henry, to your surprise, loves playing games on his PC. When he plays he'll have you sat on his lap with his arms idly wrapped around you while still having his hands on the controller/mouse. From time to time he'll kiss any part of your skin he can reach (cheek, neck,..).

-He rides a motorcycle and he loves when you wanna ride with him. Your arms wrapped around his waist while just riding around with no care in the world.

-Henry can speak a bit of Italian, French and Spanish and if you will help him to get better in those languages, he'll be so grateful. But this 'learning dates' you two have never goes as you planned, because he is always distracted by your beauty.

-He also loves cooking so if you had a bad day, Henry is already waiting at your house with dinner and fresh flowers.And for dessert, a warm bath with soft kisses all over your face.

-Henry can ride a horse so one of his ideas for date is a picnic at beautiful meadow but getting there on horses. If you can't ride a horse that's fine, you will sat behind him, if you can ride a horse maybe you two will even race who's gonna be there first.

-He loves cuddling you, because you feel so small in his big arms. He loves having his arms wrapped around you because it makes him feel like he's protecting you but when you stroke his hair he absolutely melts into you.

⤷ Tom Hardy

-Tom LOVES motorcycles. And he LOVES you, which means that you and him are often seen by paparazzi on his motorcycle either just for a simple ride or with packed things ready to sleep somewhere in the woods in tent or something similar.

-Tom loves challenges, so on these trips on his motorcycle, he makes sure there are some adrenaline, challenging stuff like jumping off of a cliff to clear cold water.

-Going into the gym together, watching him workout OR workout with him, but if you do work out with him he'll make sure to have easier workout with you because he's much stronger than you and he doesn't want you to hurt yourself.

-Tom loves reading comic books and he has one special comic book with Venom placed in the living room.

-He has a dog named Woody and when he's busy with acting, you will watch after him. Taking him out for walks, cuddling with him, playing with him and when he comes back and makes time for you and Woody, he'll make it up to the both of you.

-Tom has many tattoos all over his body so it's no surprise when one night when you two were making out you find out that he had you name tattooed on his lower belly near to his dick.

⤷ Sam Worthington

-Sam loves rock climbing for two main reasons, it's a excellent way how to relieve stress (besides spending time with you) and he can show off his back muscles, because he knows you love it.

-He's a lover of extreme sports so you can often be a bit worried that something can happen to him, but he always calms you down a bit with a kiss on your forehead. If you wanna try some of extreme sports with him, he'll be so happy.

-He's also a nature lover so trips are usually somewhere quiet and in nature, forest, meadow,... he loves going on trips with you because you two can be alone in peace and he can have you all to himself.

-He's an australian so it's no surprise he loves surfing. If you never tried it he will teach you but he won't be much focused on teaching, he's focused more on you and your beauty.

-Sam loves music AND he can play on the guitar and drums. He will take the guitar on the trips you two have, playing some songs you love on the guitar to you at the campfire.

-He also draws a lot. Many of his drawings are you or for you or of your favourite things. Please don't mind him, he just loves everything about you.

⤷ Tom Felton

-Everyone knows that Tom never left the Harry Potter fandom and you love Harry Potter as well, so it wasn't surprise when Tom posted you and him in a Harry Potter merch (him in Slytherin colors and you in your own house colors) on his instagram.

-He has a dog named Willow so his wallpaper is you holding Willow in your arms with Harry Potter merch on you (Willow has his Slytherin scarf and you have his Slytherin sweatsthirt)

-Again Tom as many other actors, loves music. He writes songs, sings, plays on a guitar. Many of his songs includes you and Willow, your relationship or his emotions.

-He will have your name tattooed near to his collarbone with a little heart next to it.

-Tom will show off his skills on his skateboard. He can skate pretty well and he's always so smiley and happy when you compliment him. If you ask, he'll also teach you few basic tricks but prepare for some bruises from all the falls, he'll kiss you as many times as much bruises you will have.

-Tom loves when you give him back massages, doesn't matter if you massage him with some fancy oils and with you palms stroking up and down on his back with some gentle rubbs or he can lay on your chest and you can scratch his back with you nails.

⤷ Rupert Grint

-Rupert loves ice cream and at one time he bought a ice cream van and gave ice cream to all the actors from Harry Potter with you helping him. He'll often take you on a ice cream date or will cuddle you while watching movies and eating ice cream.

-One of his favourite actors is Jim Carrey, which means you two often watch movies where he played and you somehow managed to get him a autograph form Jim, which made him incredibly happy you can't even imagine.

-If you two are not watching movies with Jim Carrey then definitely MCU movies, because he's a fan of marvel.

-Rupert love Artic Monkeys so when you two bake together there is always one of their songs playing softly in the background. He will often mumble the lyrics without realizing and if you point it out, he'll blush.

-Rupert is a dog lover so you two often visit nearest shelters and play with the dogs there. Rupert and you fell in love with one of the dogs, dalmatian named Teddy, so you adopted him. After a year you bought another dog but this time not from a shelter but from a verified seller.

-He loves photographing and his favourite things to photograph is you and your dogs, no wonder that there are so many pictures of you two or the dogs around the house, but he keeps his favourite besides him on his night table.

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fanficimagery · 4 months

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Violent Little Thing

To the Sons of Anarchy, you're just Happy's neighbor that doesn't care for drama or the fact that they wear kuttes. But in actuality, you've dealt and probably have done far worse, and it isn't until you're kidnapped that they find out your secret.

Author's Note: Long time no see, huh? Does this mean I'm back? Hell no. This has been sitting in my drafts since mid-2023 and thought it was time to go out. For never having seen more than a few episodes, I love these SOA boys. I'm not super familiar with the lingo or clubhouse etiquette, so this is gonna take place away from that particular setting. Trigger warning for graphic violence and attempted sexual assault (it doesn't get far). Reader is gonna be a little… off the rails. Blame all the dark romance I've been reading lmao.

Before moving into your new home, you knew it was going to be a fixer upper. Fortunately for you, you loved working with your hands, and after having been banished to Charming in hopes of calming your inner demons, you were going to have a lot of time to do just that. But the joke was on your family because there was no calming your demons. People just needed to learn to not piss you the fuck off.

When you get to the house, however, you see that a majority of the work has already been done for you. The only thing left for you to do is paint the walls, rearrange furniture, and unbox your belongings. The electricity and water are already turned on, and wifi has been installed with your password on a sticky note.

The master bedroom is huge and you love it, but you don't have nearly enough belongings to fill it. Your queen-sized bed looks tiny and you immediately want something bigger. So heading back outside to your vehicle, you grab your bag that has your laptop inside and head back in. Setting up at your kitchen island, you search for a place that will deliver any type of food and beverage. You find a pizzeria just on the outskirts of town that will deliver to Charming, so you place a quick order. It's a forty minute wait period, so to pass the time you start looking up bedroom ideas.

You run across a California king bed, but none really catch your eye. What does catch your eye, however, are the DIY beds that touch from one side of the wall to the other. You take your laptop back to your bedroom so see if it's do-able, and come to the conclusion that it is. You'll have to add some floating shelves since you won't be able to have bedside tables, but that's perfectly fine with you. You then take the time to get down the measurements of your room because you still have to situate your dresser and mount your TV to the wall, and you need to make sure everything will fit.

Eventually your food gets there and, sitting at the kitchen island, you dig in. You slowly eat and drink your fill, and then place any leftovers in the already cool refrigerator.

Needing some bathroom necessities and sheets for your current bed, you unload your vehicle. You place each box in their respective rooms, but leave them mostly boxed up. And not wanting to get any TV's mounted or bed fully put together since you still have to paint the walls, you remain on your laptop to pass the time and send messages to your family to let them know you're okay.

It takes you a couple of weeks to build your bed frame, get in your special ordered mattress, and paint the walls to your liking. You do most of your building in the driveway, so you've become accustomed to the people living on your street, waving at them as they pass or call out a greeting. But there's one individual everyone seems to steer clear of or avoid eye contact with, and that's your next door neighbor who rides a motorcycle and proudly wears a Sons of Anarchy kutte.

You had first seen the intimidating, bald man when he showed up a couple days after you moved in. You'd looked up when you heard the rumblings of engines and watched two motorcycles pull into the driveway next door. You paused hammering for a moment, nodded at the two men who took a moment to stare back, and then went back to work.

Over the next few days, men came and went from next door. And each time, they were intrigued watching you work. But eventually your bed frame was finished and you had to situate it in your bedroom. Maneuvering the mattress was no easy feat, but you were not about to ask for help, and it didn't take you long to finally finish furnishing your home to your liking.

As busy as you've been, you haven't really had the time to eat a home cooked meal. So after everything, you took a trip to the grocery store and bought hundreds of dollars of food and drink to stock your kitchen with.

The air is finally cool and crisp, so all the windows to your home are wide open. You'd been feeling a little restless, so you opted to cook a meal that would keep you busy. Enchiladas, rice, and beans is one of your favorite meals, so after making sure you have everything, you put a pot of beans to cook. They have to cook for a few hours, so while that's going on you get online to check in with your family.

When the beans are done, you get started on browning hamburger meat. Setting a majority of the meat aside, you use only a bit for the enchilada sauce. You pour in water, flour, spices, and some canned chili until it's to your liking, and then heat up some corn tortillas before you start rolling the enchiladas. After they're in a pan that holds far too many for only you, you pour the enchilada sauce on top before shredding some cheese atop of it. Once that's in the oven, you get started on a pan of rice.

It's when the rice is boiling that your doorbell rings. A little tired and more than a little hungry, you grab up your beer after turning off the rice, and take a swig of it on your way to the door. Since the door is wide open, you can easily see who's standing just on the other side of the screen door. It's one of the Sons, one of the only two with brown skin that you've seen so far. But this isn't the intimidating bald one, this is the one with a shaved mohawk down the center of his head and a killer smile.

You arch an eyebrow at him as he tucks his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and you take another swig of beer as you lean against the door jamb. "Yes?"

The corner of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens. "Hi. Uh, me and my boys are chilling next door and we couldn't help but smell whatever it is you're eating. You mind sharing the name of the place where you picked up your food from so we can go get some too? Smells really good."

Your lips twitch. "Who said I picked anything up?"

"You cooking?" His eyes widen. "Bullshit."

You huff a laugh and nod. "YN."

"Juice."

"Mhmm." You push the door open just enough so you can lean out and peer next door, catching sight of two men sitting sideways on the seats of their bike. "Just you three?"

"Yeah."

You hum again and then back into your home as the screen door shuts quietly. "I've been watching you guys come and go, nodding cordially when our gazes clash," you say. "If you're willing to leave your shoes by the front door, you're more than welcome to pull up a seat at the table."

"Forreal?"

"Sure." You shrug. "I never learned how to cook for one, so I might have made an entire tray of enchiladas that will most likely go to waste if someone else doesn't eat them."

"Oh hell yeah." Juice turns, cupping his hands around his mouth as he says, "Yo! Free meal! Get over here!"

You watch as one man eagerly gets off his bike, whooping in delight of free food. The other, the one you believe actually lives next door, casually gets up at a leisurely pace. You push open the screen door as they're stomping up your porch steps, and Juice introduces you to Tig and Happy. You do your best not to smile because Happy does not look quite so happy, but he grunts a greeting when you tell them your name.

As Juice steps into your home, he's quick to kick off his shoes and tell his boys to do the same. They do and then you lead the way to the kitchen, pointing at your table. "Siéntate."

"Ohhh. A Spanish lady," Tig muses as Juice translates for him to sit down as you instructed. When you glance at him, his wild-crazed gaze makes you snort. "I like 'em a little spicy."

"And I like 'em less talkative." Happy and Juice both snort, and Tig beams at your sassy retort. "Beer or soda?"

Tig and Happy take beers, and Juice takes a soda. You serve them each their own plate of three enchiladas, a scoop of rice, and a scoop of beans. You serve yourself last with a glass of water, and finally take a seat to dig into all your hard work.

"Goddamn," Tig grumbles after his first bite of everything. "This is some Mexican restaurant level shit here."

You grin as you eat at your own pace, feeling content at watching three grown men finding your cooking delicious.

"So what's your story?" Juice asks. "In all the times I've come around, it's just you here."

"That's because it is just me here."

"Why Charming?"

You take a moment to swallow your food, washing it all down with a sip of water as you lean back in your chair. Then glancing between each man and the patches on their kuttes, you ask, "Do you want the real story or the story I'm feeding anyone who asks in polite small talk when they see a new face in the store?"

All three men slow their eating, their gazes sliding up to you in surprise.

"What's the story you tellin' the locals?" Tig asks.

Placing a hand over your heart and changing your voice so you sound like a southern belle, you say, "Just that I just left a very nasty relationship and my family thought I deserved a fresh start away from the man who dared lift a fist in my direction."

Tig snorts. "And the real story?"

You chuckle as your voice goes back to normal. "My family thought I needed to calm my inner demons, so they banished me to Charming. Joke's on them, I've made peace with my demons. It's not my fault people keep pissing me off."

Tig and Juice laugh as Happy smirks at you.

"What'd you do to earn banishment?" Juice wonders.

You shrug. "I wasn't joking about the nasty relationship. I just leave out the small detail that once I was out of the hospital, I went crawling back to my dickhead of an ex-fiancé and plotted my revenge."

"Crazy and you can cook. Marry me," Tig says.

You shake your head at him, eating a bit more before finishing the story. "I was raised to take no shit from anyone. So after he put me in the hospital, I made him believe all was well. Then one night, when he least suspected it, I slipped him a little something so he was conscious, but paralyzed, and set fire to his house."

The three men freeze, but you continue eating as if it was no big deal.

"Did you- did you kill him?" Juice warily asks.

"Unfortunately, no." You pout and then laugh at their awed expressions. "He had nosy neighbors so they were able to get the firetrucks there as soon as they smelled smoke. But when my family found out, they said I was sloppy, so I got shipped out here."

"Yoo.. what the fuck?" A moment of quiet ensues and then Juice is laughing. "That has to be the craziest shit I've heard in a while."

"I highly doubt that." Your gaze drops to the patch on his kutte. "I'm sure you've heard, seen, or taken part of some pretty crazy shit." When you meet his gaze again, you smirk. "Am I wrong?"

Juice grins and then looks at Happy. "Your neighbor is cool as shit. I'm kind of jealous." The air of amusement lingers as everyone continues to eat. "So what do you do for work?"

"I do some IT stuff for my family." You shrug. "I can work from anywhere, so I guess I'll still be doing that. What about you boys? What do you do other than ride?"

"We work at Teller Automotive," Tig says. "Only car garage in town."

"Really? Do you guys have any openings this week? I need my oil changed."

"Sure. We'll leave a number before we leave."

The rest of dinner is spent with the men telling you what there is to do in Charming and asking how long you plan on staying. You're not really sure, but if you end up liking Charming then you have no issues setting down roots. And then when dinner is done and you've seemed to exhaust all the small talk topics, you plate up the leftovers and send the men on their way.

Over the next couple of weeks, you befriend your neighbor. You take your vehicle into Teller Automotive and Happy takes it upon himself to take care of it for you. Tig and Juice had kept you company, and introduced you to a few of their other brothers when they took interest in their new friend. You were invited to one of their parties and, after some pressuring, you went. Nothing shocked you, not even a few members of the club getting head in plain sight, but Happy apparently shocked everyone else by gluing himself to your side. According to the club President, Happy was normally found in the ring outside or fucking his way through croweaters, but that night he made sure that no one bothered you.

Then more often than not, Happy reaped the benefits of your cooking and appeared for dinner before taking leftovers home for lunch.

In such a short period of time, you grow accustomed to the stern biker's company.

One morning, you're startled awake by the doorbell ringing and a fist pounding on the door. You sit up and scoot out of bed, hurrying towards your front door in a groggy, yet panicked state. But before you pull the door open, you peer out one of the thin windows on one side of your door. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Happy and that the sky behind him is still dark.

Unlocking the door, you pull it open. "What the fuck, Hap? What's going on?"

With a duffel bag hanging off his shoulder, Happy looks you up and down. "You always answer the door like this or am I just special?"

You freeze and then glance down, rolling your eyes when you remember you went to sleep in a gray wife beater, that makes it very obvious you're not wearing a bra, and a pair of hipster underwear. "Neither. You're lucky."

"Sure." You narrow your eyes at him and he smirks. "I forgot the bills were due and everything got shut off. Can I crash here until I get it sorted?"

Without missing a beat, you say, "Yeah," and step back from the door, opening it wider. "Shoes off. You know where the bathroom is and I'm pretty sure you can find the guest bedroom." You yawn and lock the door behind your friend. "What time is it?"

"Little after five."

"Happy," you whine. "S'too fuckin' early. M'going back to bed." As you pad back to your room, you don't hear any footsteps behind you. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"Can't help it. Might start dropping by early now."

"Do it and die, Lowman." Stopping and turning, you point an accusatory finger at him. "Do not come in between me and my bed. I will murder you."

His lips twitch. "Worth it."

. .

It takes less than a week for Happy to get his power and water turned back on, and then he's back at his house. Though there are times when he shows up for dinner, dropping off on your couch when he's too tired to walk back home. Normally you would mind, but Happy knew how to clean up after himself, so you didn't mind that it seemed he was practically half moved in.

One night, you get a call from your brother that they need you to come in and work on cracking the passwords on a few laptops they'd gotten their hands on. You agreed, but first you needed to arrange someone to look after your house.

The next afternoon, you show up to Teller Automotive. You find Happy on a smoke break and ask him for a favor. When you ask him if he can keep an eye on your house for two days, he seems surprised, even more so when you give him a copy of your house key. You tell him he can crash there and eat whatever food you have so long as he doesn't trash the place. He readily agrees.

And when you return two days later, you realize you should have specified that he could crash in the guest bedroom. Finding a nearly naked Happy in your bed isn't half bad, nor is the firmness of his ass when you smack a hand down on it to wake him up.

Immediately he jerks awake, twisting his body as he sits up, and pointing a gun right at your face. You laugh and lick the tip of the barrel while wiggling your eyebrows at him. "Wakey, wakey."

"You're a fuckin' pyscho," he grumbles, lowering his gun.

"Yeah, well duh. You should have had that figured out a long time ago." He rolls his eyes before turning to drop down face first back into your pillow, shoving his gun back under it. You grin. "Was there something wrong with the guest room you've been using?"

"No. I just didn't know how fuckin' massive your bed was. It looked lonely without a body in it."

"Mhmm. I'm sure." He grunts and you chuckle as you crawl out of the bed. "I'm gonna go pick up some breakfast from the diner. Want anything?"

"Anything and everything."

"Gotcha. I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

. .

The dynamic between you and Happy ended up changing after that fateful morning. When he slept over, it was in your bed. You hadn't crossed the line past lingering touches or innuendos, but it was a given that he was the only person allowed in your bed. You didn't care for the croweaters at the parties his club put on every Friday night, but the two of you made a statement when he rolled up one night with you seated behind him.

The Sons nearly gaped as Happy amped up his protectiveness, pulling you between his parted thighs as he took a seat on a stool at the bar. Tig and Juice had walked over, and Happy perched you on his knee as you joked with his brothers. The croweaters didn't bother to hide their glares or sneers, but you merely smirked at their cattiness and took to scratching the back of Happy's head with your nails when you'd draped your arm around his shoulders.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax, the club president, had asked.

You shrugged and grinned. "We're friends."

"Friends don't stake claims."

"We're possessive friends."

Happy had snorted but didn't correct you.

From there on out, it was known that you were Happy's.

The Sons are relaxing at the clubhouse after a long day's work when blacked out Escalades and BMW's pull up. The atmosphere immediately goes from relaxed to tense, and the Sons flank their President when he walks out to the lot to see what the deal is.

Thug after thug exit the vehicles before opening the doors on two Escalades, ushering out four well-dressed men. None of them look like they'd be a person to fuck with, so Jax is extremely curious as to what the fuck is going on.

"Can I help you?" He asks, eyebrow arches as tattooed thugs flank the apparent important men.

"I hope you can." The one in charge reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a picture. "What do you know about this woman?"

When Jax is shown a picture, he mentally curses. It's Happy's neighbor and a friend to many Sons. He keeps his expression neutral, before shrugging. "Nothing. Should I?"

"She's my baby sister."

"Oh hell…"

"YN never misses check-in and she's missed two," the man explains. "It's come to my attention that she's made some connections to Happy Lowman, Juan Ortiz, and Tig Trager- all Sons of Anarchy. Do you understand why I'm here now?"

"Fuck, man, we didn't know. What can we do?"

"You can start by questioning your men to see if they'd heard from her."

At that, Tig steps forward. "I haven't seen or spoken with YN in a little over a week."

"What about Juan or Happy?"

Jax looks at his gathered men, frowning. "Where are Juice and Happy?" No one says anything, looking as confused as their President when they don't see their familiar faces. Then raising his voice, he asks, "Has anyone heard from Happy or Juice today?" Nothing. No one utters a peep. "What about yesterday?"

"Jax." Opie has his phone to ear, shaking his head. "Both are going to voicemail."

"Shit." Then turning around to face the slowly darkening expressions of YN's apparent brothers, Jax asks, "How can we help?"

. .

When your eyes flutter open, every inch of your body is in pain.

"How the fuck does my hair hurt?" You groan. You try to sit up, but realize you're on your side, on dirt and hay, with your hands tied behind your back. "What the actual fuck?" Clearing your vision, you see that you're not alone. Happy and Juice are with you, but they're in chairs with their hands tied behind their backs and looking a little beat up.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," Juice tiredly muses.

"What happened?" Maneuvering around some, you manage to sit up.

"Kidnapped," Happy says. "They injected us with some shit, but they gave you too much."

You grimace as you roll your neck. "Dicks." It's dim in the empty barn you're being kept in, but you can see sunlight through the cracks of the walls. There are stalls for animals on either side of you, all empty, and a table filled with various blades and weapons not too far away. Your aching arms are your main priority though, so you move into a crouch and wiggle your tied wrists under your butt. With a grunt, you fall backward and maneuver your hands until they're situated in front of you. "Ah. That's better."

"Get up and grab a blade so we can get the fuck outta here," Happy urges.

You do as you're told, mentally scoffing at the thought that these morons didn't think to bind your ankles. Unfortunately, you're not so lucky as someone had been watching from the shadows. So just as you're reaching for a blade, that someone jumps out at you and roughly pins you against the table.

Bent over with your arms above your head and someone pressed up right against you, you immediately start thrashing and cussing out whoever it is. Happy and Juice shout, and start wriggling in their own seats when a hand then pins you to the table by the back of your neck.

"So close, princesa." A man tuts and you jerk in his hold, but still he persists. Laughter causes you to look up, watching as another two men step out from behind Happy and Juice. "Is that anyway to talk to your host?"

"Fuck. Off."

"Oh, I will." Just then, a hand grips your waist and squeezes, and you freeze. "Just not yet. I have some questions for you."

"Don't you fucking touch her."

When you glance up at Happy, there's a look on his face that you've never seen before. You know what he does for the Sons, but you'd never seen that particular dark look or glint in his eyes, and for a moment it steals your breath away. Then you remember that look isn't meant for you, and you squirm a little as the man behind you laughingly presses his pelvis into your ass. "Or what?"

Juice answers, "Or we'll fucking kill you."

That causes all three men to laugh some more.

"Doubtful. But thanks for the laugh." Then the man behind you focuses on you once again. "Besides, my business isn't with you, but with the princesa de la mafia."

You tense. "I don't know anything."

"Aw. Of course, you don't," the man coos. "I would hope that your brothers are smart enough to never let a woman in on their secrets. But then again, you are the baby sister of one of the most dangerous mafias in the United States. I'm pretty sure you know something that I can use to hurt those brothers of yours."

You manage to angle your head just enough so you can make eye contact with Happy. He meets your stare, and you see it subtly soften, but then he's glaring at the man holding you once more. "I won't sell out my brothers."

"No?" The man releases your neck, only to trail his fingers down from your ribs to hips. "I don't want to mess up such a pretty face, but you do know there are other ways to break you and get you to talk, right?"

And then before you can answer, he's grabbing the back hem of your shirt and ripping it down the middle.

You yelp just as Happy shouts, "You motherfucker!", and squirm to get away. Across from you, Happy and Juice are pummeled a few times until they stop trying to break the chairs they're bound to.

The man rubs a hand up and down your back, fiddling with your bra strap, but never unsnapping it. You feel gross, but it's only when the guy reaches around to fiddle with the button on your jeans does red cloud your vision.

"Hey, Hap?" You manage to meet Happy's livid gaze. "Remember when I spoke about my demons?"

"Yeah."

"They desperately wanna come out to play."

"Shut the fuck up, you whore!" The man slaps you across the back of your head and you grit your teeth, biding your time.

Happy slowly smirks. "Then let them out to play, baby."

The moment the button on your jeans is opened, you scream at a pitch that startles every man in the room. Then pushing up as much as you can, you headbutt the man behind you. As he swears, you reach for the first handle you see and are pleasantly surprised to find a small machete. Then without even thinking, you whirl around and swing the blade, catching your would-be abuser in the neck with the blade.

Blood sprays as you immediately tug the blade free, leaving the man to try and cover his wound as he splutters on his own life force. From the corner of your eye, you see someone running at you, but another swing of the machete finds a home in the second man's face.

As the man falls back with a scream unlike anything you've ever heard, he takes the machete with him. Happy and Juice shout at you, and it's then you remember the third. He's running at you, a small blade in hand, and you reach for the nearest weapon. It's a metal bat and just as you rear back to swing, he swings first. The blade makes contact with your bicep, slicing it open, but you only feel the sting of it after you swing.

The bat clips the man in the jaw, stunning him. As he stumbles back, you advance. He sloppily swipes at you again, but you dodge it. The second hit with the bat hits true, catching him in the temple.

The man falls and you're quick to stand over him, bringing the bat down a third time.

The bat connecting for a fourth time makes Juice cringe, but Happy proudly watches on.

Thwack.

Thwack. A scream.

Crack!

"Shit. I think that was his skull," Juice mutters.

YN screams as she continues to wail on the man with her bat, caving his skull further and further in, to the point there's now a puddle of blood beneath his head and splattering with every pull back.

The barn doors open, and Happy and Juice tense when armed men start to file in, but they exhale with relief when they see Jax, Tig, Chibs, and Opie in the mix. All the unfamiliar men take in the scene with an air of indifference, but it's the expressions of the Sons that almost make Happy laugh out loud. They'd only known YN to laugh, feed them, or threaten the croweaters with violence. None of them, with the exception of himself, Juice, and Tig, knew the violence she was capable of.

"Uh, a little help?" Juice calls out. "My arms are killing me over here."

Tig rushes over, pulling out a blade to cut his brothers free. "What the fuck happened?"

"One of them threatened to rape her and she just lost her shit."

Juice is cut free first, and he immediately stands, rubbing his raw wrists. As Jax checks in with him, Happy is cut free.

"Boss, should we stop this?" Someone asks.

Happy looks over in time to see a guy in a suit grimace when blood is flung onto his pristine boots. "Do you want to get in the middle of that? You know how YN is. Let's just let her run out of steam."

As the guy steps back in line with a nod of agreement, Happy huffs and stands. He stalks over to YN until he's behind her. Then when she raises the bat high above her head, Happy lunges. He manages to grip the bat where it isn't slick and pulls it from YN's grasp.

Still very much livid, especially now that your weapon's been ripped from you, you whirl around to start screaming expletives and pummel whoever it is with your bound fists. Instead, arms are wrapped around you, keeping your arms stuck between your chest and another, and there's a gruff voice in your ear saying, "It's over. It's over, baby. The cavalry's here. You can stop now."

It takes a long minute for the voice to infiltrate the fog of rage, and then a moment to realize who's speaking.

When your struggles cease, Happy leans back a little to look down at you, but with his arms still wrapped around you. "You back?"

"Y-Yeah. M'sorry."

Happy grunts and leans his face closer to yours, and for a moment you think he's about to kiss you. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours as his eyes close, and he exhales with relief. "Don't be. That was hot as fuck."

You huff a quiet laugh as a bout of silence ensues, but then one of your brothers decides to ruin it.

"Hey, Lowman, we'll give you a million dollars if you give her your last name and take her off our hands."

You jerk in Happy's hold, turning to glare at all your smirking brothers. "Fuck off!" Laughter ensues at your disgruntled expression before Juice fills them in on what happened, and then Happy is tugging on your bound wrists so you look back at him before finally cutting you free. "Thank you."

One hand grasps the hair at the back of your head, gripping a little tight as he holds you in place so he can press a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get you home. You're covered in blood, and I need to take a look at your arm."

Glancing at your arm, you shrug. It stings, yeah, but it doesn't seem deep enough. And then just as you go to take a step, Happy swoops you up into a bridal carry.

It's then you notice that you, Happy, and Juice are all barefoot, and it's Juice who answers your unasked question. "You sleep like the dead, girl. Happy and I heard them enter the house, but they still managed to get the drop on us."

"I'm getting you a goddamn dog," Happy grumbles in response.

"Only if you clean up after it." He grunts and you grin. If he wanted a guard dog for you, then he was cleaning up any messes.

Outside the barn, suggestions are made about where to go now. Jax suggests the clubhouse, but at the wrinkling of your nose, Happy says you'll be going home. Your brothers mention not everyone can go because that many vehicles will draw attention, so Jax suggests sending your brothers' men back to the club with Opie and Chibs. They agree, and then you're loaded up into an Escalade with your brothers and Happy.

When you get to your house, Tig mentions that they had cleaned up and straightened your furniture after they figured out what had happened. You thank him and let Happy carry you to your bathroom while Juice takes the guest bathroom.

As Happy sets you on the counter, you watch as he gets the first aid kit from beneath your sinks. "They're gonna talk."

"Let them. The club already thinks we're fuckin'."

You snort. "Please. They should know by now that I'd never settle for a relationship where the guy gets to fuck around when he's on the road." Happy freezes with the antiseptic spray bottle in his hand before shaking himself free of thought and spritzing your arm where you were cut.

"Is that why you haven't given me the go-ahead to slip between your thighs?"

You smile at his blunt question and then wince when he wipes your arm clean. "Pretty much. I'm not a fan of my partner sticking his dick or tongue in some rando pussy, then coming home and doing the same to me." Happy grunts and you arch an eyebrow at him. "Would you be okay with me visiting my brothers and sucking someone's dick before coming home to you?"

"Fuck no."

"Exactly." You grin triumphantly. "So, unless you plan to stop dicking down croweaters or sweetbutts, the most you'll get out of me is some cuddling."

Stepping back, Happy tosses the used gauze pads into the trashcan and then reaches into your shower stall to turn on the water. Then looking at you, he demands, "Strip."

"If I fully strip, there's no going back. You're mine and mine alone." You hop off the counter, slipping off your ruined shirt without batting an eye. "I was calm and collected at your parties before because we're friends, but that all changes after this. I won't take it easy on any woman touching what's mine."

Happy smirks as he eyes you in your bra and jeans, and then strips off his shirt. "Good."

You've seen the man shirtless only a handful of times, but seeing his ink never fails to give you pause. You reach out for the first time, tracing the snake tattoo that takes up a majority of his chest and upper abdomen, before you trace the various happy faces on the side of his waist. You feel his abdominal muscles twitch and then between one heartbeat and the next, Happy's crowding you against the sink counter and angling your head up.

His kiss is as aggressive as you figured it'd be, his tongue sliding against yours and teeth digging into your bottom lip. You give as good as you get, nails digging into either side of Happy's waist as you kiss him. Then when the need for air arises, you pull back and try to catch your breath. "Well okay then."

Moving out from Happy's reach, you strip, uncaring of your nudity and then step into the steaming shower. Happy isn't too far behind you, but you're not too interested in seeing him fully naked as you are cleansing a stranger's blood from your body. Standing under the waterfall, you watch as the shower floor turns red. Happy presses in close behind you so he's under the water as well, and you straighten up before leaning your head back onto his shoulder, smiling softly at his hardness that presses against your ass.

"No funny business, Lowman. At least not until we've eaten a fuck ton and slept for a day or two."

He grunts. "Agreed."

You immediately start washing your hair, and you're surprised when Happy takes it upon himself to lather up some soap on your bath pouf to wash your body. For the most part he behaves himself, but when his thumb oh so casually brushes over your nipples, you slap his thigh and pay him back when it's your turn to wash him. He grunts when you take his dick in hand and thrusts into your soapy palm, but you quickly release him to finish washing his body.

"Fuckin' tease."

"You started it."

You get out of the shower first, smirking as Happy tells you he'll be out in a moment. You know exactly what that moment's going to entail since his hand is already stroking his cock before you can even find a towel.

"You gonna want something to eat?"

"Send Tig to get burgers and fries."

"Alright."

Back in your room, you can hear a muttered conversation from somewhere in your house. Clutching the towel around your body, you stick your head out your door. "Tig!"

"What?"

"Happy said to go get us some burgers, fries, and Cokes!"

"Do I look like a fuckin' maid?!" Tig appears in the hall, hands on his hips.

You grin at him. "No, but I do have a maid's costume. Wanna try it on?" Tig gapes and you laugh at his expression. "Come on, Tig. Please? You can grab some cash from the junk drawer."

"Fine. But only because I know Hap will murder me if I don't, not because I'm picturing you in a teeny tiny maid's outfit."

"Sure, buddy. Thank you!"

Tig grumbles as he turns to march out of your house and then you worry about getting dressed. You dress in nothing but a sports bra and boy short underwear, and then with a reluctant sigh you head to the front. Everyone's in your kitchen, sitting around your table, and your brothers groan when they see how little you're wearing.

"Oh, shut up. You've seen me in clothes like this before."

"In tights, not underwear," one brother grumbles.

"Just be glad they're boy shorts and not a g-string."

All your brothers groan yet again whereas the Sons find the interaction amusing. You take a seat at the table, grimacing a little and touching at your raw wrists.

"Let me get that for you," Juice says. He leaves to, no doubt, grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. Then taking a seat next to you, he asks, "Did Hap disinfect your arm?"

"Yeah. Just spritz it again and wrap it. It'll be fine."

As soon as Juice gets to work, Happy enters the kitchen in nothing but a pair of jeans hanging off his hips.

"Jesus," one of your brother's mumbles. "Are people suddenly allergic to clothes around here?"

You grin as Jax arches an eyebrow at his friend. "You have clothes here?" Happy nods and sits, and you quickly introduce him to your brothers while Jax looks at Juice to say, "You seem to know your way around this place too."

"It's because they practically live here when they're not at the clubhouse," you say. "Hap's moved his shit in my room, and Tig and Juice have slowly taken over my guest room." Then glancing at your brothers as if you didn't just drop somewhat of a bombshell on Jax, you ask, "So what the hell happened?"

Juice taps above one of your raw wrists and you situate them so he can disinfect them.

Your eldest brother meets your gaze. "There's a new family in town- Jimenez. They're trying to make a name for themselves and thought they could intimidate us." You scoff as your other brother's chuckle. "When they didn't get the reaction they were looking for, they came up with the bright idea to target the weak link. They thought they had the perfect candidate when they found out we had a baby sister."

"Joke's on them, you're fuckin' psycho," another brother muses.

"I'm not-"

"We literally walked in on you bashing a guy's head in."

"And let's not forget the whole reason you're in Charming is because you tried to burn down your ex's house while he was still inside."

"Or that one time you wrecked your car into that other girl's car all because she broke your friend's heart."

"That cunt cheated on him. She deserved every bit of karma I dished out."

Jax snorts, shaking his head. "Christ. You and Hap are gonna be a pain in my ass."

"You know it."

Tig shows up just after Juice is finished with your wrists. Juice then dishes out the food to you, Happy, and himself, and you get up to grab drinks from the fridge. As you settle back down, Jax and your brothers watch in surprise at how the three of you go to town on your provided meals.

"So, what exactly does one do as a mafia princess?" Jax wonders.

Chewing the food in your mouth, you only answer him after taking a drink of your soda. "I'm the family hacker. If they need a computer hacked into to gather information or scrub information, I get called in."

"So, in other words, you're female Juice," Tig says.

You laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Juice grins and you reach over to fist bump him.

You continue eating as Jax speaks with your brothers, listening as this small portion of the Sons of Anarchy are filled in about what business your family gets up to. When you're finished eating, you stand and start gathering up the trash to toss. While you're up, you grab yourself a glass of water and some Ibuprofen. Then after downing four pills, you head back to reclaim your seat at the table, only for Happy to gently grab you by the arm and tug you down onto his thigh.

Your brothers don't care about your new chair, but Jax, Juice, and Tig can't help but raise an eyebrow.

"So, is this a thing?" Jax wonders, gesturing between you and Happy.

As you drape an arm behind Happy's shoulders to settle more against him, you smirk. "What's the matter, Teller? Scared?"

He huffs and then stares at Happy, but the man beneath you merely says, "Gonna start drawing up a crow. Does that answer your question?"

The kitchen goes eerily quiet and then…

"Holy shit. Hap's actually gonna take a woman," Juice says in awe.

"This is a momentous occasion. We gotta throw a rager." The glint in Tig's eyes has you narrowing your own eyes at him.

"You just wanna see a girl fight. Don't you?"

"Hap's been possessive of you since you first showed up to the clubhouse, but now that you're staking a claim, the thought might have crossed my mind."

"Are you sure you wanna see that?" One of your brother muses. "YN might traumatize a few poor souls."

Tig smiles. "I look forward to it."

You roll your eyes at Tig's excitement about possibly seeing you fight and your brothers chuckle. The Sons really had no idea what they were in for when someone tested your patience.

Standing, you keep a hand on Happy's shoulder as you say, "Well as much as I love, like, and appreciate all of you, you need to go. I'm exhausted and I still need to sleep off whatever I was drugged with."

Jax grins. "Is that code for us to get the hell out so you can bang Happy's brains out?"

Snorting, you shake your head as your brothers all grimace. "No. I'm seriously exhausted. The fucking will come later after we're well rested. I have a feeling I'm gonna need loads of energy for Hap."

Your brothers all make noises of disgust as they stand, and you take a moment to hug and kiss each of their cheeks on their way out. You promise to call when you're feeling better and then you're ushering the Sons out as well.

Locking up after everyone has left, you head to your room where you find Happy stripping off his jeans. He's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs as he pulls your blanket back before sliding under and you pad over to do the same. You meet him in the middle, laying on your side as you drape one arm over his abdomen. With your head on his arm, you snuggle closer and Happy reaches for your leg to have it draped over his thigh so you're as close as can be without actually laying on top of him.

"Were you serious? About the crow?" You ask right before you drift off.

"Does that freak you out?"

"Not really. But if I get your mark, you're getting mine."

Happy huffs. "And just what is your mark?"

"My lips and name." You run your hand across his abdomen before walking your fingers down to one of the few empty patches of skin, below his belly button and right beneath where the snake's tail curls. "Right here."

"Above my dick, you mean?"

"Mhmm."

Happy grunts and then squeezes you a little tighter to him. "We'll see, princess. Now get some sleep."

#happy lowman imagine #happy lowman x reader #happy imagine #happy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #happy lowman #juice ortiz #tig trager #jax teller #dark romance

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mhaccunoval · 2 years

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that is the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen

#pant rambles #psych.posting #sometimes. it's sexy for your bestie to ride a tiny motorcycle

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the-californicationist · 3 days

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Hello🐻❤

Military!Biker!Price ?

I mean... Repaired a motorcycle, ride a biker

I love you Cali ❤🫂

I love you too @leixy and I’m so sorry for the wait!! Hope you enjoy the story 🩷🩷

MDNI

Storm Chaser

The rumble that you heard just outside of your garage may have been mistaken for thunder. The skies were gray, and as they rolled across the firmament, you knew they’d linger, soaking the ground and making the soil black with its fallen waters. But, this wasn’t a thundercall. This was a Triumph.

A giant, hulking man, laden with muscle and black leather gear, rolled into your mechanic shop’s driveway on a blacked out, stealthy Triumph Storm GT. Its rider’s face was covered in a full helmet, and as he slowed to a stop, his heavy boot dug into the shale, catching the center of the bike and sitting up straight, killing the enormous engine.

He looked at you. You knew he was looking at you because there was no one else to look at. You saw yourself in the black mirror of his visor, and all around you were the empty fields surrounding your shop, the tall grass roiling in the wind.

The gloves came off first, and you indulged in his hands. They seemed monstrous; a thin dusting of dark hair covered his skin, and each finger looked like it might have been wider than two of your own. His nails were clean, which surprised you for some reason, and there was a nasty scar along his right palm.

He fiddled with his helmet, unlatching the buckle, and then yanked it over his head.

Shit. You cursed inside of your mind. He’s hot as hell.

You’d been drooling over the bike, but the man sweetened the deal. He was ruggedly handsome, and his movements were so easy. It was like being in the presence of a magician, as if he knew all the secrets and delighted in hiding them from you. He was so certain, so sure of his tricks, and you waited on him to break the spell he’d put on you.

“Alright, love? How’s it goin’?”

He held out his hand for you to shake, and it warmed you like a fire. His grip was firm but careful, and he let you go without a shake. You smiled,

“All good. Slow day,” you pointed upwards, “No one but you out in this weather.”

He chuckled, and you fell for him even harder. His mirth was contagious. He looked up at the darkening sky and told you,

“Aye, it was pourin’ cats and dogs a few minutes ago. Chasin’ me here, I’ll wager. Thought I’d wait it out here. Maybe get the service I’m due for.”

“This bike’s brand new,” you scoffed, “How did you put ten thousand miles on it already?”

He gave you a half-grin and admitted with a shrug,

“I like to get away.”

You nodded, and he dismounted, unzipping his jacket for comfort. You gave the bike a once-over, checking for any signs of trouble. As new as it was, you’d already been trained on it, so you felt confident you could help him. You mentioned your plan,

“Oil, brake pads, filters. Check your sensors. My Triumph cert is up to date, so we’ll just clean her up by the book. How does that sound, mister…?”

“Price. John Price. Sounds class, love.”

“Waiting room just in there, John,” you pointed over to the tiny little sitting room you’d added to the garage, “Got a library and some coffee. Should be fresh. Just made a new pot a few minutes ago.”

“Cheers,” he smiled, and it was the most handsome one you’d seen in a while. His full lips stretched into his cheeks, and his tanned skin crinkled up to his eyes.

The eyes themselves were a problem. They were a hue of blue you’d never seen, and they pinned you down like a wild animal, a hunter and his prey. But, all of that ferality was tied taut, held by a rope in his clenched fist, and his gnashing hungry teeth were kept from biting you, controlled by his tight-laced civility. All of that chivalry made you wonder what he was like when he was allowed a little freedom.

As he walked away from you, you ogled him. You weren’t even ashamed to do it. He was everything you wanted in a man. Him and his bike oozed a primal sort of power that you’d been craving, and you wanted a taste of that freedom.

His bike was his escape, that was for sure. Ten thousand mile service after only a few months of ownership was impressive. This man liked to ride long and often. There was plenty of evidence of wear and tear, but as rough as he had been with his ride, there was evidence of his love as well. The clean body, the mended tailpipe, evidence of a scuff polished away; it was all proof of his affection.

The service was easy and quick. As you were checking his sensors and finishing up the job, the first pitter patter of rain began to fall into the gravel drive. In the beginning, it was soft and sweet, just a few drops here and there. Then, over the short span of mere moments, it came down in a torrential pour, slamming itself into the ground and pummeling the pavement.

You watched it slip and slide off of your metal roof in sheets, and you got close enough to the edge so that you could feel the cool spray from the downpour, a few droplets spitting onto your nose and cheeks. A bright blue bolt of lightning streaked across the cloudy pall, followed by a deafening roar of thunder that resonated in the hollow of your chest.

Cleaning the oil from your hands as best you could, you went to deliver the bill to your customer. To your sick delight, he’d be trapped with you at least until the storm passed, and you crossed your fingers that he could do with a bit of company.

He was sitting on the wide couch in the waiting room, his hands prying open a book. When you looked at the spine, you noticed that he was deep into the first few chapters of Moby Dick.

“Having fun yet, John?”

“Enjoying the rain on this tin roof of yours. Makes me want to kip down here on your sofa. Love to fall asleep listenin’ to the storm.”

“Me, too,” you admit, nodding towards the book, “Has he caught the whale yet?”

John shook his head,

“No, we barely got out of the harbor. You work fast. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me though, love. I don’t fancy a ride out in this mess.”

“No problem. Take all the time you need.”

“D’ya mind?” He dug around in his jacket and pulled out a short, fat cigar.

You waved him on, motioning that it was alright with you, and he happily lit his stick, working an ambery, glowing tip until fiery smoke spilled from the end. You were about to turn and hide somewhere else, anywhere that you wouldn’t need to smell his burnt, woodsy scent. It was making you hungry for a puff of his cigar and a long lick of the inside of his mouth.

A little self-control please… You begged yourself.

He caught you as you started to leave, and the feeling of his hand on his surprised you with its warm sincerity. You looked down at him, but you didn’t pull away.

“Stay… for a bit. I was just gettin’ to the good part,” he said with a sly smile, holding up the book as if to offer it to you.

“Alright,” you replied, your voice sounding too small and too quiet in the small space.

You sat next to him, worrying over your oil-stained nails as he read aloud to you, pausing every now and then to smoke his cigar or to turn his pages. Slowly, you started to relax, and as you leaned back into the couch, the sound of his voice and the drumming of the rain blended together into a soporific haze. You caught yourself looking at him — staring at him — with hooded eyes, studying the way his lips and tongue and teeth formed his words. The dark bristles of his beard giving you a clear view of every micro-movement of his face.

He was looking at you, now, too. Staring at you. Every now and then, he’d glance back at the book, read a few lines, and then take a long pause to smoke and to meet your gaze.

Suddenly, he seemed to make a conscious choice. He sat forward, and his huge shoulders cast a shadow over you. He held out his cigar and asked,

“Fancy a smoke?”

You didn’t reply, but you took it from him ever so slowly, as if he might bite, and put the end in your mouth. You sucked in the smoke to taste the rich tobacco, and you let it roll around in your mouth before releasing it, letting it hit him in the chest and neck, billowing around his stoney jawline.

Then, he said something to you in a new voice. It was one you knew, but you hadn’t heard it in a very long time. It was desire,

“Pretty little thing, aren’t you, love?”

You let his compliment wash over you like the downpour outside. It soaked through, right to your bones. You took another drag from the cigar, earning yourself a deeper chuckle and a pleased, approving grin.

“You should see me when I’m out of these coveralls,” you quipped, certain that your smudged cheeks were now a rosy shade of crimson.

He took the cigar back from you and put the book down, leaning closer to you, positioning his knee between yours, forcing you to spread your legs. He smoked, filling the space between you, taking another drag for himself, breathing in and breathing out, trying to test the waters,

“Care to show me now?”

You met his smoldering gaze. The tip of his cigar had nothing on the glow from behind his eyes. He was poised and ready to pounce, a lion on a lamb.

You didn’t answer him. You simply watched as he unzipped your work coveralls and let the sleeves slink down your arms. You pulled them free, revealing what was underneath. You were braless, letting your heavy tits lay unbound in the soft fabric of your ribbed tank, preferring comfort over fashion.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, rubbing some of the smudged oil with his thumb. He leaned forward even further, breathing heavily with you, panting like he had run for miles, all for the sole purpose of brushing your sensitive bottom lip with his own, teasing you with your own taste, hungry for your body and ready to consume you in every way he knew how.

He began to kiss you slowly, languidly, as if you were both trapped in some world of slow motion where time need not exist. You need not be bothered with the past or the future. The present was enough, and it stretched between you forever. Each kiss deeper than the last, each touch more sensual, making your breath catch in your chest.

John pulled away from you, slowly untangling himself, looking at you as if he had been keeping some smoldering question inside of his chest. He moved so slowly, telegraphing his motions so you would know his intent. Rapt, you watched his hand drop to the hem of your tank, his thick fingers dancing along the seam, carefully pulling it away so that his warm hand could slide underneath.

Your whole body shuddered as his palm spread across your soft belly. His callused hands were rough against your skin, and the way he grabbed at you, greedy yet slow and savoring, made you feel like he had hypnotized you. You were frozen in place, submitting to his desire.

He looked up into your eyes, checking with you to see if you would allow him to venture further and then moving further anyway, unable to quell his lurid hunger. His fingers found the swell of your breast, the heavy flesh hanging like ripe, sweet fruit, ready to be tasted. A thumb slipped across your nipple, encouraging it to tighten into a little peak, just plump enough to fit into his wet mouth.

Without lifting your shirt off of you, he bent his head and suckled on your taut nipple through its fabric. He wet the cloth and your skin, and when he pulled his mouth away, the dampness lingered, teasing you with the memory and lingering on you, chilling your flesh. Another swipe of his thumb and you heard yourself let out quiet little mewls, whining and needy. His immediate, chuffed grin made you blush with shame.

So, you took your revenge. You reached your hand across the supple leather of his riding pants and found the tip of his fat cock hanging trapped and turgid halfway down his muscular thigh. You used your finger to draw tiny circles around his head, knowing he could feel it. To your satisfaction, his eyes fluttered closed, lost in the sensation.

Then, his hands plundered under your top, scrunching the fabric up to your collar, revealing your skin to him. As you messaged his heavy cock, you watched him sigh as he admired your curves, drinking you in like a desert palm, his hard root stretching towards its oasis.

“Take me out, love. Please,” he begged you softly, kissing you between his gentle whispering words, and you knew what he wanted.

You yanked at his button to pop it off, and you pinched at the zipper, listening to the metallic whir of its teeth as you freed him.

He wasn’t wearing anything under his leathers, which drove you wild. He must have been so sensitive during his ride, feeling every bit of the garment’s texture and folds as he straddled his machine.

You reached for him and he let out a dark groan. His voice became threatening all at once, and he grabbed at you with all of his might, drawing your attention with his words,

“Both hands… ungh, ahh, please. Please touch me with both of your hands, love.”

There was plenty of his length for you to comply, and even with both of your hands, his swollen, rigid girth was still a challenge to manage. You focused on his head, watching as his whole body responded to your touch.

John pulled you in for another kiss, forcing his tongue down your throat, filling your mouth with his heat, crushing you to his chest, abandoning all of his earlier tenderness in favor of lustful fury.

As he ravaged your mouth, you felt his cock slipping through your hands on its own and you realized that he was using his hips to thrust himself through your grip. You tried to help him, matching his pace, but that only spurred on his carnal want.

He was moaning into your mouth, and you could feel the hum of his joy against your lips. With each shameless thrust, he cried for you in that dark brimstone timbre, aching and full of longing.

“John…” you whispered, breaking away to catch your breath, saying his name like a prayer.

Adding to the drama, a long peal of thunder shattered the sky, killing the lights in your shop. But, you were both so worked up by one another, the shock of a blown fuse paled in comparison, and your eyes stayed locked on each other’s, bound together, unable to look away. Unwilling.

But, he paused, staring at you, wanting something from you, something more.

You gasped when he lifted you, rumpled clothes and all, right off the couch. He shouldered the door to the tiny room and walked quickly to his bike sitting you sideways on the seat. You braced yourself with one hand on the tank and one on the tail, waiting for his next whim.

He was working on your clothes, peeling off your coveralls and shucking off your layers until he found your panties. When he saw the fabric, he paused. You fretted for a moment until you felt the cool, stormy wind blow across the damp gusset. Then, you knew what he was looking at. You were soaking through your panties, and there he was, transfixed on the darkening stain.

“Wanna taste you, love. Want you in my mouth…”

John fell to his knees in a flash, his cock still free and flagging up and down, wet with his precome. You squirmed a bit, unsure of your scent and your sweat from your earlier work.

Those gentle eyes had been replaced with a sinister warning. He pinned you with them as if to say, move away and I’ll bloody drag you back.

He didn’t bother to kiss the softness of your belly nor your thighs. He wanted one thing, but you didn’t expect him to take you quite like this. He didn’t peel down your panties, instead eating you right through the thin cotton, sucking on the wet cloth and making lewd squelching noises, lapping his tongue over your soaking lips and sucking at your flavor with his eager lips.

“Oh, shit…” You lamented, feeling your body go slack, submitting to him and his power.

“Fuck…” He said between bites of his meal, “You’re so sweet… Let me… ungh, fuckin’ hell…”

He used his thumb to tug the fabric aside, revealing your gleaming pink flesh. And when he tasted you, skin on skin, John became obsessed. He was pushing his strong jaw so hard into you, working you with his mouth, making you rake your fingers through his hair just to hold onto something, you were afraid the bike might tip.

In one ruthless motion, he tore your panties from you, ripping the sides and tucking the ruined fabric into his fist. Then, he put that same hand on his cock and began to jerk himself off, rubbing your wet cloth all over his cockhead.

With his free hand, he grabbed the handlebar of the bike, pulling it down towards him, preventing it from falling, now able to eat you with as much reckless abandon as he liked.

His mouth moved in long, deep thrusts, fucking you with his scruffy face, suckling at the hardening body of your clit. His tongue pressed into your swollen lips, moving between them with forceful need. As he licked you, he moved lower and lower towards your wet hole, hoping to thrust his writhing muscle inside of you, wanting nothing more than to lick you dry.

Finally, he reached it, and the tip of his tongue slipped into your pussy, pressing through your slit and fucking you like his cock wanted to. You heard him elicit a gravelly, smoldering whine when he tasted your smooth center, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in his head, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

Meanwhile, the rain pounded in the open garage doorway, swirling and spitting under its ebon shroud. John cared very little about it, nor did he care that you and he were nearly naked, in full view of the street. The idea that anyone could drive up and see you there, caught in his jaws, made you lose control.

You tried to hold your voice down, but once he felt you start to come, he did everything he could to set you ablaze. His hand abandoned the handlebar, preferring instead to sink two of his large fingers inside of you, working with his tongue to stretch you open, giving him more of your ripeness to devour.

You keened like you were on fire, and maybe you were. You thought, as the flames licked up your legs and down your arms, that maybe you would burn right up. Maybe you were a flare, ready to sear a bright scorching light through his mouth, burning his throat like whiskey, brutal and cruel.

Your whole body had given in to the feeling as if you were an orchestra at the mercy of its conductor. If he wanted your kindling to catch, it would, and you would burn for him. You were his opus, trapped in a perpetual crescendo of his lust, an expression of his own fiery fate.

His mouth only left your body to cry out in his own right, growling out a breathless groan as he spilled his come into your panties, smearing his cock through his own emission and mixing it with yours.

Unable to maintain your balance, and unwilling to jeopardize his bike, you sank to the floor with him, feeling the cold concrete on your shins. John tugged you into his lap, panting into your neck, smelling strongly of your scent, his face and beard shining with it.

You breathed together, fondling what you could reach, cradling each other as if you’d found one another again after years apart. Penelope clutching at her Odysseus, recognizing him through a sea of lesser men.

“You alright, love?” John asked, still catching his breath, petting your cheek absentmindedly.

You nodded, affirming your well-being,

“Mmhm. You?”

“Aye,” he smiled, laughing quietly to himself, “But, now you’ve gone and done it.”

“What?” You smiled, enjoying his joy.

“Didn’t think runnin’ from the rain would be such a fuckin’ good time. Now, when it rains, I’ll be craving you.”

You smiled at him, letting him kiss your neck and cheek, planting his affection like little promises, deep under your skin.

“You’re always welcome back, rain or shine.”

“How about tonight at six; dinner at my flat?” He looked up at you, hopeful.

“As long as I get to ride this bike, it’s a date,” you teased.

He raised his eyebrows at your challenge, and then he gave you a lascivious grin,

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve got just the ride in mind.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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bigskyandthecoldgun · 6 months

Text

based on this

steve's pov | dragon's pov

Steve had found Dragon hiding in a bush when she’d been a teeny, tiny kitten with mangy black fur and green eyes that took up basically her whole face.

She’d been so sickly, in fact, that the vet had warned Steve she might not make it. Steve had refused to give up on the kitten, though, nursing her back to health as best as he possibly could. Now, she’s an enormous, regal-looking cat that has a meow closer to a roar, a purr that makes her sound like a motorcycle engine, and breath so terrible it should be legally qualified as a hazardous gas. That is, admittedly, where Dragon had gotten her name. Steve had found her just after the events of ’84, and when Dustin came over to bug him for a ride to the arcade, he’d been all but obsessed with the poor cat.

“D’you have a name for her yet?” Dustin had asked, eyes wide with wonder as the kitten had scrambled up Steve’s pant leg and climbed up to perch on his shoulder, shaking and terrified at the stranger in their home.

“Nah. Figured I’d just call her, like, Midnight or something,” Steve had said with a shrug, to which Dustin had taken great offense.

Upon smelling the stench that had come from the kitten’s hiss, Dustin had declared her a fearsome creature with a breath weapon, whatever that means—a Dragon. So Steve’s got a cat that is incredibly clingy and a little stinky, but only when she opens her mouth.

And his cat is ruining his dating life.

The thing about Dragon is that she doesn’t like most people. She tolerates Robin, even when she’s sitting next to Steve, but other than that, she hates it when people get close to Steve. Dragon’s the most territorial cat Steve has ever met, and Steve can hardly go anywhere in the house without Dragon at his feet or on his shoulders. And balancing a cat as large as Dragon on his shoulders is not an easy feat. Dragon screams if Steve closes her out of a room he’s in and sleeps directly atop Steve’s chest. That cat is the clingiest creature on the planet, and Steve would die for her.

But Dragon despises people. She hisses at the girls Steve brings home, yowls when the door to Steve’s bedroom is closed, and swats at anyone that tries to so much as touch him when he’s on the couch. It’s absolutely destroying Steve’s chances at bringing girls home, and while most of his dates are content to bring him back to theirs, Steve’s getting a little tired of being kicked out of bed. At least when he’s at home, he can mope right away when girls turn down his offer of staying the night and leave early, rather than moping in his car.

And it’s not like he’s getting a ton of action lately, anyway. Now that the whole Vecna debacle is over, with Eddie and Max out of the hospital, the Party spends most of its nights together, so Steve hasn’t been going on too many dates anymore. Instead, he spends his time either on someone else’s couch or his own, and if it’s the latter, he can count on Dragon sitting squarely on his lap and everyone but Robin sitting a few feet away for safety purposes.

It’s a late afternoon in November, when he’s hanging out alone with Eddie at his house for the first time, when Dragon does something truly surprising.

She lets Eddie pet her.

They’re hanging out in the kitchen, Steve almost done with his cup of coffee and Eddie nursing a cup of his own mixed with an absurd amount of hot chocolate powder. The coffee in late afternoon is a peculiar habit of Eddie’s; he says it’s because it’s when his uncle usually wakes up, and they have coffee together, so Steve thinks it’s kind of sweet. It’s a really nice afternoon, chilly but not too cold, only slightly overcast so that it’s not too sunny but not too cloudy, either. The cool light makes Eddie’s hair look shiny, and the gleam bounces off his skin like a halo might.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to tell you how cool your cat is,” Eddie says, nodding towards the Dragon in question. Dragon hops up on the counter, then hops up on Steve’s shoulders, purring as she nudges the side of her face against Steve’s cheek. Eddie grins. “Dragon. A fitting name for a majestic beast.”

“I don’t know why she’s so unfriendly,” Steve sighs, reaching up to scratch behind Dragon’s fluffy ears. Dragon purrs even harder. Eddie snorts and reaches up to join Steve in scritching behind Dragon’s ears, but Steve takes a step back. “Woah, careful, man, don’t want you to get clawed.”

Eddie’s grin turns into a small, fond smile. “Cats don’t really like me, anyway, I don’t mind a little scratch or two,” he says, stepping closer to offer his hand up for Dragon to sniff.

Instead of the hiss Steve’s predicting, Dragon pushes her face against Eddie’s knuckles and continues to purr. “Holy shit,” Steve breathes, eyes wide, “she doesn’t do that with anybody.”

“She probably does that with you,” Eddie points out, and Steve gives him a flat look. The answering shit-eating grin he gets is unfairly endearing. “Nah, I get what you mean. But seriously? There must be someone else she likes. One of the kids? Some girl you brought home that happened to have cat treats in her purse or some shit?”

Steve groans and shifts Dragon into his arms, feigning annoyance when Dragon nuzzles against his jaw. It’s actually pretty cute. “No, this little asshole is ruining my chances of getting laid,” he says. “She hates everybody I bring home. She doesn’t even like the kids! The most socializing she’s ever done with another person before this is her letting Robin be next to me. Dragon tolerating a relationship? No way.”

Dragon lets out a loud meow and licks Steve’s cheek. “Well, maybe you just have to find somebody she likes,” Eddie says, scratching under Dragon’s chin. Dragon meows again and squints, chin tilting up to give Eddie more room to scratch. Eddie clicks his tongue. “Aw, see? She’s a sweet girl. I’m sure she’ll have a soft spot for someone other than yourself soon enough.”

Steve decides to play along. “Draggy,” Steve coos, “will you please let Daddy get laid? Be all sweet and good instead of biting people’s ankles?”

“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself Daddy?” Eddie sputters, looking mortified.

Frowning, Steve shifts Dragon so that he’s holding her like one might hold an infant. “Yeah, I’m Dragon’s dad, and she’s my little baby,” he explains. “Duh.”

“No, okay, wh—nevermind,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “My point is, even if Dragon hates the ladies, I’m sure there’s one lady out there for you she won’t hate.”

As Eddie pets Dragon’s tummy—her tummy!—Steve realizes that, yeah, there is one person out there that Dragon doesn’t hate.

Steve resolves that, if Dragon really doesn’t mind Eddie’s company, he should have Eddie around more often. The way Steve sees it, if Dragon gets used to Eddie being in the house and being close to Steve, she might open up to other people who are around a lot, like the Party, and then she could even learn to tolerate girls coming over. As much as Steve hates to admit it, Eddie Munson might just be the reason his dating life gets revived.

At the next movie night, the movie night that Eddie finally shows up for, when Dragon hops into Steve’s lap and everyone scoots at least ten feet away, Steve pats the seat next to him. “Hey, Eddie, c’mere,” he says, and Dustin openly gawks when Eddie’s able to sit right next to Steve with no roaring protests from Dragon.

“What the hell?! I’ve been in your house so many times and I’ve never been able to sit near you when Dragon’s around!” Dustin huffs, scowling at the fluffy bastard. “And I’m the one who named her! I’m practically her godfather!”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Henderson,” Eddie says, a slow grin spreading across his face, which can’t be good. “If Steve’s pu—”

“Nope,” Steve cuts in, slapping a hand over Eddie’s mouth, cheeks burning, “not gonna let you finish that.”

Eddie nods. “Very wise,” he says, muffled. “It was gonna be incredibly inappropriate.”

Satisfied with having stopped that, Steve moves his hand away, and Eddie knocks their shoulders together. To Steve’s shock, Dragon doesn’t hiss or swat, just snuggles further into Steve’s lap and purrs harder than she’s ever purred before. The movie starts up, and Steve watches Eddie reach over in the dark, usually a bad move when it comes to Dragon. But Dragon just lets Eddie run a hand over the top of her head, and Steve leans into his side, the two of them sharing a small smile.

After the movie, when most everyone else has gone home, Eddie’s still around, scratching behind Dragon’s ears. “You know, you should hang out here more often,” Steve tells him, and Eddie raises a brow at him. Steve tilts his head. “I mean, Dragon doesn’t get a lot of socializing in, so…it’d probably be good for her.”

Clearly holding back a grin, Eddie nods. “Sure. I’d love to come around more so Dragon gets some socializing in,” he teases, and Steve rolls his eyes, holding back a smile of his own. Eddie leans closer, smoothing his thumb over Dragon’s fuzzy little cheek. “She’s really cute. Has good taste in who she lets pet her.”

Eddie casts his gaze down at Dragon. His lashes are long and dark. He has really nice hands, too, and it’s easy to notice them as they run over Dragon’s pitch-black fur. “Yeah,” Steve says quietly, giving Dragon a pat by her leg, “she does.”

Eddie comes over way more often from then on, and Dragon gets somewhat clingy to him, which is kind of unbelievable, because Dragon’s never rubbed up on anyone’s ankles but Steve’s, but it’s a marked improvement. The only downside is that Dragon still hasn’t improved with anyone else, but Steve figures that’ll change sooner or later.

For now, he’s content to hang out with Eddie in his room, laying on the bed with Dragon sitting on his chest and Eddie laying beside him. “Little lady,” Eddie coos, almost nose-to-nose with Dragon, who purrs. “Sweet baby girl.”

“She’s a smelly girl,” Steve tuts, scratching between Dragon’s ears. He looks at Eddie. “I still can’t believe you’re the only one out of everybody we know that she likes.”

Eddie looks up at him, big brown eyes shining with mirth. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty believable. I happen to be very likable,” he says. And, to Eddie’s credit, Steve’s found that he kind of is. “And besides, cats have good judgements of character. I’ve been chosen.”

Steve raises a brow. “I thought you said cats didn’t like you.”

Face scrunched up, Eddie tilts his head. “Yeah…I lied. Didn’t want to make you feel bad if I did get scratched,” he explains.

That’s fair, actually.

Dragon meows, raspy and roaring as always, and she smacks her paw out at Eddie’s arm, using her—trimmed, because Steve takes very good care of her—claws to drag him closer. “She wants you closer? That’s crazy,” Steve comments as Eddie scoots into his space, their sides pressed together. “She must really like you.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, but he does smile, soft and private, and Steve thinks it’s nice. It’s a smile he hasn’t seen before.

It’s pretty.

Even with Eddie and Dragon getting buddy-buddy, it still doesn’t seem to be helping Steve’s case with bringing anyone home. Hell, Dragon still isn’t even close to being civil with most of the Party, barring Robin, who actually got in a single chin scratch the other day. But Eddie and Dragon are getting along swimmingly, to the point where Eddie can actually pick Dragon up! Granted, it’s not for very long, because Dragon starts screaming about ten seconds in until Steve takes her from Eddie, but still. It’s insane.

“You are killing me, you little menace,” Steve tells Dragon one night while Eddie’s using the bathroom. “Why do you like Eddie so much, huh? I mean, sure, he’s funny and he’s nice, but it’s not like you can understand what he says, you don’t speak English.”

Dragon meows indignantly at him from her place on Steve’s lap, slow-blinking at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I see your point. Eddie is pretty great,” Steve mutters.

Dragon yawns and starts making biscuits on his thighs, then purrs.

“Okay, so he’s handsome, too, but I don’t see how that’s appealing for you, you’re a cat,” Steve huffs. He blinks, face flushing. “Well, that’s—it doesn’t appeal to me, either, I guess.”

Dragon gives him an inquisitive little mrrowp? in response.

Steve blows out a long breath. “Look, Draggy, you gotta find someone else you like. Eddie can’t be the only other person you can tolerate, it’s just not realistic,” Steve tells her.

Dragon roars.

Shushing her, Steve pets her to sweeten the deal of shutting up. “Yeah, I know, and I like having him around, too—”

“Talking to your cat about me, Stevie?” Eddie asks, bouncing into the room and sitting down beside him with a flouncy sort of flip of his hair. “Well, Madam Dragon, I do hope he hasn’t been slandering my good name.”

He’s using that silly cat-voice he does when he’s talking to Dragon, and it’s almost as endearing as the way Dragon rolls over to let Eddie rub her tummy. “I would do no such thing,” Steve says, feigning offense, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Miss Dragon, don’t listen to a word he says,” Eddie tells the cat. He glances over at the clock and frowns. “Ah, shit, it’s getting late.”

“You could stay here, if you want,” Steve offers. “Maybe Dragon’ll suffocate someone else in their sleep for a change.”

Eddie laughs, but he takes Steve up on the offer, heading into the guest bedroom in a change of clothes that definitely doesn’t make Steve feel a certain type of way about seeing Eddie in his one of his old swim team shirts. Though, the night is not peaceful, because a certain giant, annoying cat refuses to stop screeching at the top of her lungs. Eddie comes stumbling back into Steve’s bedroom, Dragon held in his outstretched arms, Eddie’s hands tucked under the cat’s armpits.

There’s a grumpy, slightly disgruntled look on Eddie’s face. “Please tell your daughter to stop screaming at me,” he says, placing Dragon on the bed, and Steve reaches for her to drag her into his lap. Eddie nods and turns to leave, only for Dragon to scream again, and he whirls right back around. “Oh my God, what?!”

Dragon gives a little chirp and trots to the edge of the bed, nosing at Eddie’s hand. “Draggy, let Eddie go to bed,” Steve says, his voice rough with what little sleep he’d managed to get between Dragon’s long and loud meows.

“Yes, Dragon, I need my beauty sleep,” Eddie says. When he turns to leave again, Dragon yowls and bites down—seemingly gently—on his hand, carefully stepping backwards towards Steve while she does so. Eddie looks just as bewildered as Steve feels. “Does she want me to stay here?”

“I have no idea. I’ve literally never seen her do this before,” Steve tells him. “But, like, you can, as long as it’ll stop her from screeching.”

Eddie blows out a long breath. “Honestly, I don’t even care at this point, I just want to sleep,” he groans, clambering under the covers until they’re laying face-to-face beside each other. Eddie smiles at him, then winces and scoots closer. “Sorry, ah—she’s pushing my back.”

Dragon gives a little mrrp of confirmation.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her, I’m sorry,” Steve whispers, and Eddie just half-shrugs, eyes darting everywhere but Steve’s face. He looks uneasy. “Hey, man, if you’re uncomfortable staying here, you can sleep on the pullout in the den and I’ll just lock her in here, she’s got a litterbox and water in my bathroom, she’ll be fine. And you won’t hear anything down there, so…”

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. Wouldn’t wanna put you through that torture.”

He gets slightly closer, and Steve’s face goes a little hot at the proximity. Their noses are almost touching. “She’s being a little douchebag,” Steve murmurs. “Ignore her.”

“She keeps pushing at my back,” Eddie tells him, sounding a little panicked. “Why is your cat so strong, dude?”

“I can take her out of the—”

Dragon lets out a meow so loud that it rings out for a few seconds after she’s done.

Eddie is clearly fighting a laugh. “Okay, so keeping her out of the room isn’t an option,” he says, and Steve chuckles. Eddie gives him a curious sort of look. “Hey…about earlier. What were you telling Dragon about me?”

Oh, just that you’re funny and sweet and, apparently, I think you’re really handsome, is what Steve probably shouldn’t say.

“Oh, just that you’re funny and sweet and, apparently, I think you’re really handsome,” is what Steve says, because he’s an idiot.

Eddie’s brows shoot up, behind his bangs. “I’m sorry, you think what?”

“That you’re really handsome,” Steve says, because, again, he’s an idiot.

Blinking, Eddie starts to frown. “Are you messing with me right now? Because if you are, that is not cool, Harrington—”

“I’m not,” Steve says. “I’m—I didn’t—I mean, Dragon really likes you, and cats are…a good judge of character, and you’re, uh—you’re pretty.”

The frown turns into a poorly-hidden smile. “I’m pretty?” Eddie echoes, lashes batting, and Steve can’t tell whether or not that’s intentional.

“You are,” he says softly. “You also make me laugh, and you get along really well with my cat, which—and I don’t know if you know this—is very hard to do.”

Eddie laughs, almost bashful. “I did say there’d be somebody Dragon had a soft spot for other than you, didn’t I?”

“The little menace is a matchmaker,” Steve mutters, and Eddie leans forward just slightly until their noses are touching. Steve reaches up to cup Eddie’s face. “Can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely,” Eddie says breathlessly.

Steve presses their lips together gently, moving slowly, and Eddie hums into the kiss, one hand on Steve’s waist and the other sliding up to his chest. It’s soft and it’s good, and Steve leans into it a little more, his fingers tangling in Eddie’s curls as he deepens the kiss. Unfortunately, Steve has to pull back for air, but Eddie’s smiling when he does. Dragon meows, much further away than Steve had thought she’d been, and the sound of her collar jingling grows quieter and quieter.

“Well,” Steve says, “I definitely found somebody she likes.”

“Safe to say, she won’t prevent you from getting laid anymore,” Eddie murmurs, his low voice sending a shiver down Steve’s spine. He gets this hesitant sort of look on his face, like he isn’t sure if he’s overstepped. “I mean, only if you want to—”

Steve interrupts him with a chaste kiss. “Oh, I want to,” he whispers.

The next morning, when they wake up tangled in each other’s arms, clothes littering the floor, Dragon is sitting on the edge of the bed with Eddie’s discarded shirt in her mouth, tail flicking back and forth, looking smug as ever.

#i'll drop dragon's pov tomorrow #but for now u get this :]#stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #robin buckley #there is nothing more important than platonic stobin #dragon knows this and she respects it

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azsazz · 5 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 4)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,556

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Notes: This story is so healing to me 😌

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A deep thrumming rattling the walls shakes you from your sleep. It vibrates through your chest, the ardent bass and pounding drums reverberating in your bones. The timber of the singer’s words swims in your head, throat and low, and you’re unable to pluck the words and make sense of them this early in the morning.

You blink once. Twice. Your eyelids feel like sandpaper and your head is stuffed with tiredness, a sharp pain settled behind your eyes despite the darkness of your room.

Night licks the walls, and you groan, rolling over. Shoving your pillow over your head, it does little to block the disruption coming from the other side of the wall. You don't know what time it is. If it is still night, it’s either too early, or too late.

Which means that the sounds on the other side of the wall have to be one of those rowdy boys.

After moving the vehicle when ‘Azzy’—as the final boy so lovingly said it—had finally moved that death-trap of a ride, you were beginning to think that things were starting to finally look up for the rest of your first night in your apartment. He had been gone and his roommates’ party seemed to be winding down, if the three giggling, drunk girls on the elevator ride down were any sign. They’d been gushing about one of the roommates, Cassian, she’d said. Some of her brunette hair was disheveled in her ponytail, as if someone had tried to run their fingers through their hair, or had wrapped said hairstyle around their fist. Gag.

“He kept calling me baby,” she gushed to her friends, who were both squealing with excitement. You could hardly contain the desperate urge to roll your eyes at their annoyance, how they were openly talking about the lines of muscle cording his body or the length of his cock with a complete stranger inside this tiny metal box with them. It’s not as if they were whispering, and you’d cut a glance at the girl swooning over one of your rude neighbor’s appendage.

Her piercing green eyes were clouded and shiny with drink. Her cheeks pinkened with a blush that looked permanent. Her lush lips swollen and top button of her shirt still undone, she looked everything beautifully fucked.

Your mouth turned into a sour line, wondering which of the boys had been the one to claim her tonight.

With each passing day, the dilapidated elevator seemed to work slower and slower. As if it was your destiny to be stuck in the confines of this metal contraption with the worst possible people…or trapped outside of it, anyway.

Eventually, the doors had screeched open, but even the shrill noise didn’t deter the gossipping girls’ conversation. They stumbled out of the elevator with a cheerfulness only alcohol and dick could conjure, giggling their way down the quiet streets.

It was a miracle that you didn’t have a parking ticket clinging to the window of your rental. You’d moved it both easily and quickly, something you would’ve been able to do if that bastard Azzy had given you the damn space when you’d asked him to move his sleek motorcycle.

And of course, as you cursed his name for the umpteenth time of the night, he’d appeared.

Cloaked in a worn leather jacket that clung to the curve of every muscle, he’d shown up. There was a tight line to his mouth, deep eyes reflectant of the nighttime sky, caressed by equally dark, thick lashes. He nearly looked as tired as you felt, slight rings around his eyes. His helmet, that, when he shucked off pulled his hair up in the most perfect directions, even more so when he ran his gloved fingers through it with that damned smirk on his face.

He hadn’t let your gaze linger on the handsomeness of it as a streak of mischief streaking across his eyes like a star as he taunted you. Azzy’s tone was deep and dulcet, unexpected for the jeer falling from his lips. It took your tired mind to shear through the thoughts of that mouth and hook onto his words, and the asshole’s smile only widened when you scoffed and retaliated.

Oh, how he had gotten on your nerves.

Again.

And now this, music flowing through the wall at Mother knows what hour.

You’re so exhausted, you could cry. Your body is sore with the efforts of moving, mind a muddled mess. Tears prick the back of your eyes, tightening your sinuses as you grit your teeth, trying to contain them. If the fabric of your pillowcase wets with a drop, you would never admit it.

How has the day from hell somehow managed to turn into the night from hell too? What the fuck have you done to deserve this?

Even more so, how do the other roommates deal with this? Are they all awake and listening to the music, long bored after the party has died down? Or do they delight in the fact, knowing you are their neighbor and have already complained about the noise once. Why not bother you again, when any normal person would be asleep?

Frustration courses through your veins like a lance, hot and unforgiving. The rush has those tears leaking from the corners of your eyes and you push to your knees, channeling every ounce of burning hot ire and rotting tiredness into your fists, pounding them against the thin wall.

Your chest heaves, labored with irritation. You don’t smash your fists against the wall again, hoping that the once will have gotten your message across to the boy on the other side of the wall. There’s something that niggles at your brain, telling you that you know which one is fated to be on the other side of the plaster.

There is no response for one breath, two. Then, a thump as loud as your own, answers. Just one, like you had done to him. The music rings a touch louder, and it sounds nearly clear as day, like you’re standing in the front row to a rock concert.

Prick.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Sighing in frustration, you tear another sheet from your drawing pad, crumple it up with all of the pent up rage and annoyance, charging it with all of your ire. So much so, that you fear it might burst into flames. You want to tear it to shreds and stuff those tiny pieces of paper right up your douchebag of a neighbor's ass.

Instead, you throw the paper over your shoulder and let your head collapse in your hands.

Music pounds loudly through the earbuds you’d stuffed into your ears when it became clear that the raging music next door would not be turned down. You’d considered marching over there to give him a piece of your mind or punch a hole through this very wall, but instead opted to blare music so loudly you can’t make out the lyrics.

Art had been your next attempt at blowing off some of the steam turning your cheeks red. You’d pulled out the well-worn sketchbook from your bag, along with the colored pencils you always had stuffed in there, and attempted to allow your mind to unleash whatever it wanted across the creamy pages.

Except, everything that came out was trash. Lines heavy with exhaustion and anger, deep and dark, nearly tearing through the pages. You’d broken the tips on four of your pencils and couldn’t find the sharpener you swore you’d put in the front pocket of your bag.

It’s as if your body didn’t know what to draw. The beginnings of sketches quickly turned into shapes of madness and sleep-deprivation, things you couldn’t even make out. A bat that had turned into a gruesome image, flesh tearing from its bones. A cloaked figure atop of a black stallion that made your stomach clench. A few soft strokes of a pair of lips with an incredible smirk. Your shoulders had begun to loosen as you worked through this, but once you realized what you had begun sketching subconsciously, you’d torn away that page too.

And that had been the last page in your sketchbook, the black of the back cover taunting you, laughing at you.

It didn’t matter anyway, because your stomach had soured at the thought of your last attempt. You’d shoved yourself away from your desk, spine rigid and bones vibrating with tension. On one of the scrap papers you’d written a list of supplies to get while out shopping; pencil sharpener, new sketchbook, earplugs.

You’d even managed to unpack most of the boxes in your room before the sun had barely licked the sky. Terrible, you know, because you’ve only gotten a little more than an hour’s sleep since moving into this hell hole of an apartment. You curse Feyre’s sister, Nesta, who had claimed that this was her favorite place to live all the years she’d gone to school here.

At least you have been productive in the hours since.

Now, you’re trailing down the roads in town, headed to the small art supply store.

You’d waited until it was late enough for stores to be opening, and the town is quiet on this mildly sunny morning. You bask in it, shoving your earbuds into your pockets as you waltz, coffee in hand and fresh air coursing through your lungs.

You might’ve been able to fall asleep even with the sun peeking through your blinds, but you’d been determined to purchase the supplies you need for classes in a few days. Not even the sight of Azzy’s empty parking spot could turn you around.

Something you will probably regret later.

Feyre had been dead asleep by the time you left, and you figure someone should be getting sleep even if you can’t. At least, that’s how your thoughts are now, who knows how you’ll feel if this shit is a nightly occurrence. You might just have to persuade her to switch rooms with you.

The bell at the shop rings when you enter, but there’s no one at the counter to greet you. This, you don’t mind, because you aren’t in the mood to pretend like your morning hasn’t been one of the shittiest ones you’ve had in a long time, and you’re not even hungover. Whoever is on duty is probably stocking the shelves or something anyway.

Your gaze wanders around the store, stuffed full of art supplies. It’s heaven. Painted lined up by color, a rainbow bursting with life. There’s an entire aisle dedicated to sketchbooks and papers of all sorts, canvases larger than your body stacked against the back walls, spray paints, pencils, ink, carving tools, clay—any and all supplies for most artists can be found here, and that is no easy feat.

The scent of the store draws the tension from your shoulders, settling you to your core. You can feel the recharging of your creative energy, your artistic inspiration opening her eyes to take in the view.

Maybe you can talk to the owner and convince them to let you move in here.

You take your time, shuffling up and down the aisles, taking everything in for all its glory. Pristine tubes of paint, swollen like plump berries, not yet crusted with colors. Pencils with graphite of all weights and strengths. You pluck a new HB pencil from its container and slip it into your basket. And maybe you grab a few more.

A kneaded eraser is added after that, and ah-ha, the sharpener you need. A kit of watercolor pencils catches your eye, but you pass them up, instead heading to the sketchbook area, to linger in the scents of fresh paper.

There’s the shuffling of noise in another aisle, and you gather that it must be the associate on shift. Music begins playing through a speaker by the front, and it’s much less grating than the kind that had awoken you. The chill indie music fills the space with even more life, and combined with the streams of sunlight sliding in through the glass windows, you think your day may be starting to brighten.

You end up with three sketchbooks in your basket—a feat in itself not to choose one of each—and continue trapezing through the store. You pass by the sculpting section and pause for a moment, wondering if you should take a class. Then, at the thought of clay thick against your skin, caked under your nails and embedded into your clothes, you decide against it.

You grab a can of fixative for when you take your drawing class uses charcoals, another messy medium you don’t care for. You don’t like the feel of the dry chalk against your hands, sticking between the creases of your fingers. It takes forever to get out.

You may not know what type of art you want to stick with, but you know that those are out.

And there are so many different types of art to try that it’s almost overwhelming. Well, anything in your current state of fatigue is overwhelming, but you haven’t found the one thing that you can see yourself doing everyday. You don’t even have an artistic style yet, and you’re still fresh enough in college to take all of the classes you want to, weed out the areas of art you don’t care for and narrow down what you do like.

Surely, you’ll figure it all out. Someday.

You take the longest in the paint aisle. Tubes upon tubes of color scream at you, and you admire each one. From oils to acrylics, gouache to watercolors, it surely is the biggest section. Not to mention the plethora of brushes hanging above. You’d added a painting sketchbook to your cart, small enough for quick and simple paintings. You don’t want to put too much pressure on yourself yet, but you’ve always wanted to try it out.

Reds of all shades, ochres that remind you of autumn, phthalos and umbers and titanium white stare up at you, waiting for you to take them home, squeeze the life from them so their colors burst on your canvas. You gaze even snags on a unique color, and you lean closer to read the name: dioxazine purple.

You forgo that, instead grabbing a tube of the most important colors, colors you can mix together to create any other color on the spectrum. It’s almost like a super power, being able to mix such colors from only a few, and you love it.

After adding a few brushes to your basket, you head towards the front of the store to check out, halting in your tracks when you see who is behind the counter.

No, thankfully it isn’t Azzy, but it is one of his roommates.

He’s leaning against the counter, swiping through his phone. His dark hair looks surprisingly neat, brushed back with dampness still clinging to it from his morning shower. He’s clad in a black t-shirt that leaves a patchwork of tattoos on display. There’s an over-the-top cup of coffee on the counter that puts your simple one to shame. His posture exudes an effortless confidence, and when he looks up and catches sight of you, a dimple deepens in his cheek.

“Fancy seeing you here, neighbor.”

You bite back the groan at the base of your throat, moving closer. All you have to do is pay for your things and leave. You don’t have to talk to him outside of the necessary cashier talk, and maybe he won’t even try to taunt you.

Yeah, right.

“Hi,” you grit, placing your basket on the counter. He peers into it and you tense, feeling judged. You have no idea what kind of art he’s into, if he even is at all, but you don’t like him knowing this part of you, not when he and his roommates have been nothing but rude to you. It feels too personal.

His eyes flicker back to your face, taking you in, and the color reminds you shockingly of that tube of paint you were just looking at. You don’t balk from his assessment of you, taking in your tired eyes and the downturn of your mouth. You want him to stop looking at you and ring up your things, but instead, he smirks.

There goes your lighter mood.

Surprisingly, the first thing out of this one’s mouth isn’t a taunt. “How are you this morning, darling?”

Darling? That thought makes you want to grimace, but you swallow it down in favor of trying to get out of here without your state of mind plummeting further.

“Lovely,” you try for a smile, but it feels forced. His lips twitch higher as he clocks it as well. “And yourself?”

“Fantastic.”

You nod, pinning the sour remark to the roof of your mouth. Yes, I’m sure your party was just lovely, unlike my night of unrest.

Jerk.

“Right…” you trial off, eyes flicking down to your basket in an attempt to tell him to hurry the fuck up without so bluntly saying hurry the fuck up like you so devastatingly want to.

“First year here?”

“Second,” you answer flatly, praying he starts moving. The muscles of his arms flex where they’re on display, and he reaches into your basket, examining the first tube of paint he pulls out. Ochre.

Not for anything specific, maybe say, eyes.

“I’m a junior,” he replies, picking up the check out gun as slow as possible.

“I didn’t really ask.”

That mirth-filled gaze sweeps over you again and you try not to duck your head, to fight off the fire of both a blush at his attention and your irritation at his slowness.

“That’s right,” he muses, and the ring of the scanner going off makes you blink. “I’m Rhysand. I think we’ve met somewhere once.”

It’s what you’ve been waiting for, the teasing. How he’d answered the door after sensitive Azzy had and slammed it again in your face. You remember him perfectly.

“Are all three of you always this insufferable?” You ask, cutting to the chase. It’s a rhetoric question, one you already know the answer to, but he’s responding anyway.

“Most call it charm,” he shrugs, grinning.

You don’t hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“So, your roommate is pretty cute,” Rhys drawls, scanning another tube of paint. That’s two in the span of a minute. He should be fired for such things. You glance at the door, praying that his roommate doesn’t waltz right in, because that, you think, would mean that you actually have the worst luck ever. “She got a name?”

Your gaze cuts back to him, eyes narrowing. “Don’t we all?”

“And yet, I didn’t catch yours.” He cocks his head and flips another paint tube out of the basket.

You grit your name through clenched teeth, the grip on your coffee cup tightening. Your already thin patience is now threadbare. Only a few strings holding on to your sanity, but Rhysand is quickly sawing through.

“Nice name for a lovely girl, I’m sure,” he teases, but there’s nothing funny about it. These boys might be having their fun, but to you it was never something to laugh at, and the situation has only gotten worse. “And what’s your roommate's name?”

“Sorry, she’s not the secret fuck type,” you bite. Though, she might be, after her breakup with long-term boyfriend, Tamlin this summer.

Thankfully, your basket is nearly empty. You set your coffee on the counter, pulling your wallet from your purse in haste. The quicker you can pay and leave, the quicker you can hole back up in your apartment. Maybe take a nap on the couch.

“Trust me, darling. It wouldn’t be a secret.”

You can’t help but splutter the laugh that bubbles up your throat. You stare at him, incredulous. “That usually works, doesn’t it?”

His façade falters and you lift your chin with pride. Clearly, you’ve caught him off guard. “What?”

“The whole ‘darling’ thing. You just expect women to swoon at that, huh?” His smile is hesitant, and he takes the card you hold out to him. “That’s what I thought. Can I have my supplies now, darling?”

Rhysand takes your card without complaint, running your total. His mouth is set in a firm line now, shoulders tense. The aura in the entire shop has changed, but you don’t have the ability to care right now, itching to get away.

He hands you your card back and nearly shoves your bag off of the counter with a grumbled, “Az was right.”

It’s your turn to question him. “What?”

“You are grumpy.”

The hot sheath of ire is torn away. Your fingers curl into fists around the handle of your bag, the other around your coffee cup. The bite of heat only fuels the irritation sliding up your spine, and you are unable to keep the cadmium red staining your cheeks as you glare up at him.

“Tell me you’re shitting sunshine when you haven’t slept all night because of your roommate.” Rhys answering smirk is cutting, suggestive. It makes you blind with rage. Spinning on your heel, you shove yourself out the door before he can answer your anger with another sly remark.

Fucking assholes, all of them.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl

#azriel acotar #azriel au #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #art school au #acotar modern au #midnight muse

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kithtaehyung · 7 months

Text

and f*ck you, too (m) (teaser) | pjm

title: and f*ck you, too (m) (teaser) pairing: fuckboy assassin!jimin x assassin!reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; work rivals!au, assassins!au, enemies with benefits summary: you despise each other. and yet, you can’t seem to stay away. which is fine, since both of you are completely fine walking the line where it’s drawn. fic warnings: (smut warnings under the cut) language, violence, angst, blood/wounds (reader’s, jimin’s, and others’), cocky!jimin, cold!jimin, baddie!reader >:)), weapons: knives/guns, alcohol/drug mentions, reader has fast cars :))), ties to chairs, chains but who is shocked??, jimin has fast motorcycles🙄, angst, yoongi as a weapons specialist gets his own warning a ha ha, jimin looks too good in tanks, and without a shirt at all, this jimin is a warning in itself, did i mention angst? note: lmfaooooooo this is just assassins getting in each others’ ways with a generous splash of filth and a side of angst :)) WE ARE GETTING A PROPER JIMIN FIC, Y'ALL!! est. word count: 15-20k | teaser wc: 908 est. drop date: oct 2023 18+ taglist: sign up here (i check all blogs)

smut warnings: explicit scenes, biting, bondage (ropes, pillowcase), scratching, angst, slapping, hickies, body worship, piercing play, spit play, orgasm denial, pussy spanking, voyeurism, exhibitionism, face riding, slut/whore mentions, edging, oral (m/f rec), thigh riding, possessive but they won’t admit it</3, choking, angry sex, angst lol, hair/head pulling, protected/unprotected sex, praise kinks galore, easy access, cowgirl, hitting from the back, rough sex, spanking, teasing, creampie, chains (stay on!!!!), multiple orgasms, aftercare when it’s least expected👀

Glass.

Bullet casings.

So much broken glass.

As you listen in the scattered silence, you’re careful to skirt around the tiny shards making an ocean out of your villa.

Well. It’s now more of a wreckage than a beautiful seaside vacation home, but nuances mean nothing when you’ve only used it to store an eighth of your arsenal.

And your fucking pink McLaren that’s now face down in the nearest reef.

You are going to end this man.

“Come out, my love…”

Fuck him for double-crossing right when you were getting along.

At least, you felt like you were.

Maybe it was just a lapse in judgment, and the last goddamn mistake you’ll ever make around Park Jimin—assassin, playboy, sole occupant of the top of your hit list.

“Your target’s on the run, you know.”

Of course you’re fucking aware. But he won’t trick you a second time.

As soon as he gets a clear shot, he’s taking it.

And despite rivulets of sweat and blood running down your arm and a fresh gash on your upper chest, you are poised to do the exact same.

“Shouldn’t you be following them? Awhh, wait, your ride… What a shame.”

The gritting of your teeth almost gives you away.

Think.

Based on where you hear Jimin and the layout of your place, he’s somewhere around the foyer.

And hiding in an open hall next to your kitchen, there’s no way you can get him from where you’re poised.

So wait.

“What to do… Ah! I can call a taxi to pick you up! How does that sound?”

Wait, goddamn it.

Don’t fall for his shit.

Watch for any dark waves in the debris-riddled floor. Hold off until he’s in a good sight line.

Fuck, your wounds hurt.

Hot exhaustion warms your mouth as you wince, blood starting to harden along your slick skin.

“Or you can just let them get away. This would be Chance Zero, though, so. You’d end up getting a geo-bounty on your file… but it’s your decision!”

Breathe.

Geo-bounties aren’t too bad if they’re low.

Only when they evolve into Global status should you be worried. And that only happens if the Council deems it.

You’ve stayed on their good side… other than screwing up the missions Park Jimin has ruined.

“Come on, love.”

He sounds closer.

“Be a good girl.”

A lot closer.

Now you just have to wait until he… rounds the… corner.

…What happened?

Where the fuck did he—

Your body reacts before your mind does, ducking to avoid a strike into hard spackle.

Twisting, your forearm prevents the next swipe of Jimin’s blade as you retrieve your side dagger, and four boots trample the glass below in a violent dance of combat.

Above below swipe left dodge right parry parry lunge parry.

When you aim at his chest, your gun is quickly shoved, bullet firing into one of the last kitchen cabinets left standing.

And your opponent has the nerve to look appalled.

“You were gonna shoot me?”

All you do is tsk.

Clashes ring out again as you dart forward, and you go for a opening while mapping out how the hell you’re gonna catch up to your target before—

Fucking hell!

Chilling pain sears across your shoulder from the cut Jimin makes, and you half-stumble, half-crouch to avoid his killing blow.

Taking the risk and rolling across your favorite broken vase, you slide and fire again, the kickback hurting your arms like a bastard.

“Fuck!”

Finally.

Through slitted eyes, you can tell you just grazed Jimin’s thigh, and he collapses to a knee while you struggle to stand upright.

Crinkles of glass echo throughout the hall as you both haphazardly collect yourselves, with him breathing hard and you grunting through stinging pain.

Shit, he’s cursing like you’ve never heard before.

But you can’t let that distract you from your goal.

Up first, you aim your weapon just in time to face his expression.

Those wide eyes.

You have the perfect shot.

And yet…

You hesitate.

Time bends as you vascillate between decisions, your moral compass going haywire and refusing to align with any direction. Electricity fizzes and pops while another patch of your ceiling falls, but neither of you move.

Spare him. End it. Kiss him. Finish the kill.

Your heart squeezes the trigger.

And you fire at the light fixture above him before fast limping out to your garage.

Curses ring in the falling shards while you make your getaway, fingerpainting the walls with swift red strokes.

Get there get there get there.

Jimin won’t be far behind.

Ripping open the back door, you grit through the pain while swinging a heavy hand onto a glowing pad.

After the blooming beeps, you swipe in a password before hitting Floor, and find ponderous support on the door while you wait.

Breathe. Breathe. Holy shit, everything hurts. Breathe.

At your feet, the solid garage foundation slides open to reveal a car rising on a platform.

The other McLaren that Jimin didn’t launch off the nearest cliff.

Lamenting the leather interior already, you drag yourself to the drivers side with a series of groans, swiping a roll of wrappings and a couple gun magazines from a counter along the way.

Run run run.

He’s probably right behind.

In seconds, you’re zooming out of the driveway.

And with a bruised as fuck heart, you blast holes in Jimin’s motorcycle wheels for good measure.

tbc. :)

what do we think bc i already wanna fight this man lol | join the taglist!

a/n: thank you all for reading! if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! even a like is okay at this point, but all tags, reblogs, comments, and messages are super super appreciated :D see you at the droppppp hehehe ⇥ masterlist ⇥ writing updates board

#here we gooo!#bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #jimin fic #jimin x you #jimin x reader #pjm fic #in which both parties are stupid and attractive and despise one another lol #bts smut #bts angst #jimin angst #jimin smut #ryenwrites #*latest #*ryenfictalk #*teasers

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gyuswhore · 6 months

Text

Dahlia

🎁 Em Birthday + Dino Mixtape Special 🎁

PAIRING: lee chan x reader

SYNOPSIS: When Chan brings you a bouquet filled with promises and hope to begin your birthday, you're happy to accept them with the love they come with. Chan, however, is quick to remind you that the flowers were only the beginning.

CONTAINS: fluff, smut (MINORS DNI) bikerboyfriend!chan, fem!bodied reader, soaked chan (literally), tiny bit of crying (happy tears!!), loads of acts of service, making out, handjobs, breast play, clit stimulation, fingering (f. rec), penetration, chan wont let reader breathe kjgfnekfjn, these two are so in love it gets sappy at the end lmk if theres anything else

WORD COUNT: 4.4K

masterlist

[AN]: if yall didnt think that insane meltdown i had on the tl a while ago wasnt gonna spawn into this, you would be crudely mistaken. ANYWAY in honour of em day falling on dixtape release day i present to you this thing i wrote out of the worst brainrot ive had in a very long time. have fun with channie lol

“Thank you!” Chan yells behind him to the flower shop owner as he walks out, the small tinkle of the door chime making itself known despite the near midnight time. Chan checks his watch as he approaches his motorcycle that stands on the empty sidewalk: 11:38 PM.

He might be able to make it, swinging his leg over the seat as he thanks his luck that he was able to catch the last florist before she closed for the day. The owner sends him a smile as she begins her own trek to her car, lights out.

Revving his engine to life, he attempts to tuck the bouquet into his riding jacket, praying the delicate petals would hold up during the short ride to your place. His helmet is strapped on within seconds as he kicks up his stand to take off into the empty streets, making a beeline for your apartment. He stops at a red light, taking the chance to check his watch again: 11:47 PM.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, whipping his head around to check the ghostly empty streets of the intersection. He briefly wonders if he can afford a ticket when he sees the droplets fall on his gloved hands.

“No. No, no, no, come on!” The light turned green as the rain began to thunder down onto his helmet, seeping through the collar of his jacket and trickling down his skin. He pushes away a shudder, trying not to shiver in the now even colder November night, wanting nothing more than to get to your place as quickly as possible.

The rain grows nothing but stronger as he finds himself needing to wipe his shield every few seconds, his desperation increasing with the strong winds. By the time he’s kicking his stand and yanking his helmet off, the pour seems to have slowed itself to a drizzle, something he thinks he would’ve appreciated just a few minutes ago. In the few seconds it took him to kill the engine and inspect his flowers, the slow droplets infiltrated his hair, too.

The flowers are soaked, Chan finds out soon enough as he inspects the droplets that have collected on the short petals of the red dahlias he’s picked out. He dumps the bouquet upside down to pour out the accumulated water onto the pavement, watching the amount of liquid that continues to spill out.

So much for the flowers holding up.

“I think you need some flowers for your water,” Chan flicks his sopping wet hair off his forehead to look up at the sound of your voice, eyes meeting your delighted face over your low window.

He glances back down at the water-specked flowers, and hears a ghost of a chuckle escape him. Chan realizes in the moment how frazzled he looks, dripping wet with a thing of dejected flowers in his grip.

You’re still smiling at the sight, “Come up before the hypothermia sets in, idiot.”

He’s quick to oblige, bounding inside despite the droplets he leaves in his wake, checking his watch in a glance: 11:58 PM. You’re quick to open the door for him just as he reaches your place on the first floor, folds upon folds of bath towels in your arms.

“You look like a wet dog,” you snort, laying down a towel for him to step inside on.

“Wait!” he yells, and you freeze in your crouched spot. You’re slow to come back up, watching him stare intently at his watch.

11:59 PM… 12:00 AM.

His face breaks out into a big smile, causing you to mimic his elated expression. He grabs your limp hand and thrusts the bouquet into your hands.

“Happy birthday, babe.”

You can’t help but huff out a little laugh. The sight of dripping hair, sodden socks on a towel, his hand that pushes the flowers into your own, all complete with a stupidly accomplished look on his face.

You push forward, flowers in hand, as you wrap your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. Pushing your chest into his, you leave no room between what your clothing would allow. It’s wet. Really wet. You can feel your shirt grow warm under the retention, but you pay no mind as you continue clinging to him with all you have.

“Thank you, Chan.” He can hear the elation in your voice, and it’s enough to make it all worth it. He hugs you back, cautious at first, but relents when he realizes you don’t care about coming out of the hug as soaked as him. It isn’t until you feel the unnatural cold of the tip of his nose kiss your neck that you realize he’s probably freezing. So you pull away, albeit reluctantly.

He keeps his hands on your hips as you continue, “Let’s get you dried up first.”

Thus, a freshly washed and clothed Chan exits the bathroom, finding you in the kitchen huddled over the island. It isn’t until he’s engulfed you completely from behind, arms coming to pull you into his bare chest, that he sees what you’re doing. The crimson flowers had been tended to, placed into a pretty vase as you fiddle with the petals to spread them into a pleasing arrangement.

“It’s freezing, Chan, put a shirt on!” you gasp as you turn around to realize your boyfriend is sporting nothing but trousers and a towel around his neck.

“In a minute,” he mumbles as he drops his forehead to your shoulder.

Running your fingers through his wet hair, you attempt to comb them out. “Why didn’t you stop when it started raining? You catch colds so easily.”

“I was running late, and the flower shop fucked my order. It was my fault. Spent ages trying to find one open that had these ones.”

“You still could’ve stopped.”

“And miss being the first to say happy birthday? Fat chance.”

You sigh as you give in to him. “Thank you. For testing your immune system for me.”

He snorts at the comment, coming back up to face you, forearms resting on the counter as he pushes your body against the edge. He glances at the flowers briefly.

“This wasn’t the end of it. We still have another twenty-four hours to go,” he murmurs. “The rest of the surprises will be less chaotic, I promise.”

“It’s not you if there’s no chaos,” you comment with an undertone. “I’ll like anything you give me, no matter how chaotic or calmly you deliver it.”

He hums for a moment, and you sense the mischief coming from a mile away. The half-serious warning leaves you before you can help it, “Don’t make me eat my words.”

He barks out a laugh at that, coming in to capture your frown in a momentary kiss, giving you one peck after another. You stand in each other’s arms for a long while, barefoot in the kitchen, as you talk about your plans for when the sun eventually comes up. Most of which Chan refused to relay to you anyway, so you were really just making guesses.

His drying hair doesn’t leave your fingers throughout, combing through the strands as you massage his scalp along the way. He melts under the touch, moving the towel around his shoulder way so you can rest your arms on him. He falters slightly at the feeling as he continues to talk.

You can’t help but notice the wonders the kitchen light seems to be doing for him, the blue-ish glaze illuminating the highs of his face and hair, the glowing lines moving past his neck to his shoulders, and undoubtedly casting the rest of the ridges of his body aglow — you aren’t sure if you can handle finding out if you gaze any lower. The little you can see of his eyes past the flop of hair that covers them is sparkling in the low light.

Chan doesn’t stop you as you slot your mouth against his, taking the way the light illuminated his lips as a sign. He’s equally as quick to reciprocate, moving his mouth against yours, almost more eager than you. His hands have left their place on the counter and move to grip your hips instead, pushing your lower half against him with a force that has you breaking away from his lips.

He doesn’t stop, moving his mouth down to leave his own open-mouthed kisses on your jaw as you grip his bare bicep, a content sigh leaving your lips.

“Have a really pretty thing waiting for you when you wake up,” he whispers delicately in your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe. “The nice satin thing you’ve been eyeing for a while.”

Your breath stops short in your chest, the thought of the pretty piece of lingerie you briefly mentioned you liked a while ago.

“Chan,” you groan at the thought.

He continues to mumble with a slight chuckle, “Don’t know if that’s a present for me or you.”

His hands have migrated everywhere at this point, moving up to squeeze of your breasts in his hold, his other hand continuing to run over your ass and hips. It’s your own hands that drift past his abs to toy with the drawstrings of his pants when you begin to fall impatient, needing to feel him.

Feeling his hard-on through his underwear is easy, and you wonder how long he’s actually been horny with how defined you can already feel him to be. You watch as he grinds into your palm, groaning into your neck at the feeling. You continue your ministrations through his boxers till you feel him wrap his hand around your forearm to yank it out of his pants.

“I’m not fucking you on the kitchen counter,” he says, pulling you out of the blue fluorescent lights and into the hall to your bedroom.

It’s easier for him to discard your clothing with the space he’s given, yanking your shirt off to leave you in your barely-there sleeping shorts. Sparing no second, you watch him push off the soft plush of the mattress, moving away to get rid of his own clothing.

Chan’s lips meet yours once again as he hovers over you on the bed, continuing to feel up your sides as he shoves his tongue into your mouth, massaging it over your own as he continues to push you up the bed.

You arch your back, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra, only to find him beating you to it as he unhooks it, flinging the padding somewhere amongst the flown clothes on the floor. The cold hits your chest in a way that has you gasping, his hands immediately cupping over both your breasts before attaching his mouth to a nipple. His other hand toys with your other nipple, rolling the perked bud between his fingers before running his thumb over it repeatedly. It’s so easy to zero in on the feeling of his tongue gliding over the sensitive area, the contrast of his warm mouth, and the air that hits the glistening surface of your skin. You can’t help but hum, hands grazing over his own that pinch and press into your other nipple.

You realize soon enough that his knees are spread just wide enough for you to shove your own leg in between, bringing your knee up to grind it slowly against his crotch, feeling him through his underwear. The motion comes unprovoked, a vibrating groan escaping him as he cursed against your skin.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so impatient.”

Removing his mouth from your chest, he pushes your knee down in haste to give himself room to pull down your shorts, pushing your thighs apart when he’s done as he kneels back. His gaze wanders across your near-bare body, his thumb rubbing circles into your hip as he locks you in place. His eyes hover but choose to remain on the visibly darkened patch on your panties. You feel his fingers move slowly, ghosting over the insides of your thighs, moving ever so close to where you screamed for him.

Right as you’re about to say something out of growing frustration, he hooks his fingers under the waistband of the final obstruction, pulling them down your legs to expose yourself to him completely. His unprovoked compliance comes as a bit of a shock to you, but you assume he’s being nice for the sake of your birthday (not that you’re complaining – anything that gets him in your pants faster counts as an automatic win in your book)

You can feel him massage the skin of your thighs as he stares, making sure you keep your legs wide open for him. His gaze doesn’t wander, you find, locked in as he bites his bottom lip at the sight. His eyes hold a dangerous lace, one that you wish he’d unleash. He all but pushes your thighs even further to get a better look at your undoubtedly sopping wet cunt. It took a lot for you to not attempt to bring your knees together despite the embarrassment – you know he liked to look.

“Chan.” His name leaves your lips in a desperate attempt to get him to do something, anything. His lips all but lift into a curl of trouble.

“What is it, baby?”

“Please,”

“Please, what? I know it’s your birthday, princess, but I won’t know what you want if you won’t tell me.” His eyes graze over your contorted expression, urging you to say it. “Say it, my love.”

“Chan,” you whine. “Touch me. Please.”

His grin morphs into something downright diabolical as he taps your hips. “Get up, baby. On my lap.”

Chan pushes his back on the headboard as he invites you on his lap, your hips over his thighs as the rest of your body lays on the sheets.

It isn’t until then that he finally migrates his hand, placing his middle finger on your clit, spreading your lips apart with his pointer and ring finger. He grazes over it lightly as he moves down to your hole, feeling the pool of arousal that’s accumulated in the area. He gathers your arousal on his fingers, moving back up to pay attention to your clit.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” Chan’s voice comes out hoarse, and it somehow has you gushing even further.

The angle gives him perfect access to work on your cunt as he likes, pushing your legs apart when you’d close them subconsciously. His fingers are merciless as they take turns circling over your nub before rubbing through them up and down. He places open mouthed kisses on your thigh, the one he holds open against his bare chest.

You’re writhing at the feeling, trying your best to not move in his hold too much as you let out the most desperate streams of moans, only encouraging him to keep going. Your hands grope everything in your shaken state: your breasts, his thigh, his arm that holds your legs apart – anything to keep you tied to the feeling.

Chan’s fingers slow before coming to a complete halt, wet fingers trailing up your thighs, leaving a trail of your arousal in their wake. He brings them back, fingers now lower as he traces a lone finger at your entrance. You feel yourself clench at the feeling.

“Fuck!” You clamp your hand over your mouth, the profanity leaving your mouth before you can stop it. Chan pushes that finger into your tight hole, clenching around the digit. He pumps in once before pushing in another.

“Uh-uh,” you hear him tut. Yanking your hand away from your mouth, leading it away. “Let me hear you.”

His statement has you letting out another groan, the sound of his voice adding to the pleasure you’re receiving at the mercy of his fingers. He continues to pump in and out, his other hand moving to continue circling over your clit.

Your back is arching off the sheets at this point, hands desperately gripping the sheets as you throw your head back. The feeling is building to a breaking point, your pants growing louder as your jaw falls slack.

The knot breaks, and it has you fluttering your eyes shut, your mind going completely blank as the only thing that consumed your being becomes Chan’s godly hands. Registering absolutely nothing is easy when he refuses to stop his fingers, letting you ride out your high as far as it would take you. He doesn’t stop, even while you're squirming in his hold from overstimulation.

“Ch-Chan, I can’t!” Your own hands attempt to grasp his arm, his wrists.

Your now blown out pupils catch a playful look on his face as he quit brushing his fingers on your spent cunt, letting you lay back for a breath. Your chest heaves as you attempt to come round from the feeling, vaguely registering Chan, setting your lower half off of his lap. He hovered above your frame, leaving pecks all over your face, neck, and chest, waiting for you to recover.

“Good?” he asks you with a smile once your breathing seemed to have evened out.

“Yeah,” you reply with a laugh, attempting to sit up from your position to kiss him. He lets you.

It isn’t until you’ve pushed him back on the headboard that he realizes what you’re trying to do. You’re legs that straddle him begin to wiggle lower as you detach from his lips, fiddling with the waistband of his boxers to pull them off. He obliges, letting you take the fabric off, watching you as you pump his hard length in your palms.

You doubt you’d ever get over the feeling of having him in your hands, the weight of him fitting into your palm like his dick was meant to fall straight into your hands. Chan is gracious in how he lets you have your way for a few minutes, using his precum as lube to begin pumping him faster and faster.

The feeling is overwhelming, considering how long his lower half has been waiting for this, for you. He reminds himself what he’s really here for and somehow finds it within himself to stop you, flipping you over on the mattress so he’s back to hovering over you.

“Not today, baby.”

“Chan, let me–”

He knows the only way to get you to quit insisting is by occupying your mouth, so that’s exactly what he does as he places his mouth against yours, kneading both your tits under his hands to get you all worked up again. It works as you let out the smallest whine against his mouth, all of that fighting drowning in your chest as you melt into putty in his hands yet again.

Chan continues to tease, bringing his tip to your entrance, circling it before dragging it up to your clit, spreading the mix of both of your arousal all over your cunt. Your hips buck and stutter at the feeling, still sensitive from your previous orgasm.

It isn’t long before he’s dragging himself back, tip pushing in hard as he continues his pressure. You’re both moaning at this point, mixing in profanities as he begins to thrust into your cunt, setting a pace for himself. You wrap your arms around his neck as he holds himself in a hover above you.

Soon enough, you feel him begin to brush against a particular spot inside you, one that has you moaning louder than you have all night. It’s almost like he knows what those sounds mean, angling his hips in a way that thrusts directly into that one spot that has you seeing stars.

“Chan, I’m—”

“I know, princess, I know,” he grunts out in response. “Let go, baby.”

And you do, hurtling into your second orgasm as you clutch the forearm he’s rested on the bed. Your back that arches off the sheets is met with his hand that runs over the expanse, coaxing the feeling out with the intimate touch.

You feel him pull out, moving away from you to let you breathe. You want to have the energy to tell him to come close to you again, but it sires difficult when you can barely breathe. You find yourself not needing to open your mouth, though, as you realize Chan’s mercy lasted barely a few seconds before you feel him push into your entrance again with no warning.

The gasp that leaves you is muffled by the mouth that’s put on yours as Chan fully engulfs you in his arms again. You take the opportunity to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso, hands roaming as you feel up the expanse of his back and shoulders. He’s thrusting into you slower than before, his moans coming in directly into your ear now. The sound is enough to have you gushing around him again, your fingers finding his nape to tangle them in his hair.

“Fuck — you’re not keeping me in,” he groans, and you suddenly realize why he was going so slow.

It wasn’t like you could help it when you continued to clench around him like your life depended on it, but he didn’t seem to really mind it either when you felt his own cock twitch. Once he’s had quite enough, he pulls back momentarily to push your legs up against your body. Your thighs are pressing against your chest as you register that he’s basically folded you in half, giving him the room he so desired to properly fuck you.

“Keep those legs up for me, baby,” he orders as he helps, letting you rest them against his shoulders.

He slips himself out before going back in entirely, moving his hips at a pace that has you seeing stars. You feel him move his head to kiss the inside of your thighs, dragging his tongue over every surface he can reach. With his mouth occupied, the only sounds that encase the room are your own string of moans, paired with the absolutely lewd squelch that comes with every slap of Chan’s hips.

With the force he’s going at, you don’t doubt the bruises that’ll grace your lower half once he’s done. The fact that this wasn’t gonna be the end of it has you wondering how you’ll handle the next 24 hours with him. You decide you’ll think about that later as you let the feeling of him engulf you now.

“Oh, I’m so close,” he announces, and you can tell by the way his pace grows increasingly sloppier. He lets down one of your legs to free up his hand to bring back to your bruised clit, rubbing haphazard circles to make up for his also haphazard hip pace.

You can’t imagine minding, though, especially not right now when the desperation of it all has you building up your third high, “Me too, fuck, me too.”

Chan thrusts into you a couple more times before you announce that you're cumming, and the way you're clenching down on him harder than ever before has him letting out the loudest moan of the night as he begins to cum mere seconds after you. You can feel his hot liquid shoot into your walls, the slickness making your head spin even further.

You’re near passing out when Chan pulls out of you, flopping down on the bed next to you. Neither of you speak as you catch your breath for the nth time that night, somehow finding it within yourself to turn over to land your head on Chan’s outstretched arm. He doesn’t hesitate to bring you in as you curl up under his arm, head on his shoulder.

“Where do you get all that energy from?” you mumble into his arm.

He laughs a little at the question, dropping a kiss on your head, “Comes naturally when you have such a pretty thing to please.”

You snort in response, trying to hide the very apparent fluttering in your chest. Even after the amount of time you’ve spent having him all for yourself, you doubt the butterflies would ever leave – especially when he continues to drop his corny yet effective lines at any given opportunity.

“Shut up.”

“I don’t think you want me to,” he retorts, lolling his head to look at you, hair flopping on his forehead as he smiles at the sight of you.

“Fair enough.”

You both giggle a little, a little dazed at the cloud in the room. It falls into comfortable silence after, as you continue to gain your bearings after a session like that. Your mind begins to wander, thoughts landing you in the kitchen where the red flowers are now decorated.

“I know you’re a sap, which is why I’m asking you this,” you start, shifting to look at him. His face is glistening. “But what made you choose those flowers in specific?”

He thinks for a moment.

“The dahlia itself means… lasting grace. Beauty that remains, love to be declared.”

You stare at him as he licks his lips, “Red dahlias, those mean perseverance. Strength, power.”

He shifts so he isn’t on his back anymore, facing you entirely. “I don’t know much about flower talk, but I hoped both of those things together would tell you that… my love for you is stronger than the years. And I intend to prove it to you if you’ll let me.”

You’re tearing up now, and he can see it in the way your eyes turn from shiny to an overwhelming pool. Before he can say anything, you’re lurching forward to kiss him, smashing your mouths together in a way that you can only call dramatic, your tears dropping to hit his cheeks.

He brings a hand up to steady you, cupping your face to hold you there as you continue to peck his lips over and over.

“Thank you for loving me,” you mumble against his lips in a nasally voice.

“Thank you for loving me. Thank you,” he kisses you again, “for being born.”

You laugh a little, wet cheeks and sniffles to complete the look.

Chan can only wipe your tears away with a brush of his hand and hope that those tears remain happy, with him, for the rest of your days.

#seventeen #svt #dino #chan #lee chan #dino fluff #dino smut #dino scenarios #dino x reader #dino imagines #dino fics #lee chan fluff #lee chan smut #lee chan imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #em.writes

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absolutebl · 2 months

Text

Top 10 Best BLs on Gagaoolala

My Beautiful Man AKA Utsukushii Kare

Japan 2021

One of the most Japanese BLs to release in the last decade, as weird and as messed up as any 2000s yaoi: emo af and hella warped, entirely true to itself with no attempt made to modify its POV for modern sensibilities or current BL fandom. It used seriously old school problematic and kinky tropes, like whipping boy, for a truly uncompromising piece that also manages to hit up themes of communication, consent, and self acceptance. It’s a wonderful BL but uniquely dirty and harsh, in the best possible way - Japanese cinema, uncompromising.

I lost my ever loving mind over the ending. This show won the Grand Prix “My Best TV Award” at the 16th Galaxy Awards.

Minato's Laundromat AKA Minato Shouji Coin Laundry

Japan 2022

A classic age gap romance where a high school student pursues the man of his dreams (who runs a laundromat). This BL is so steeped in yaoi nostalgia, not to mention a classic romance arc, that it will overload some, but those of us who love this genre for its DNA will adore it. It made me very happy because it did everything I want a BL to do - there’s not much more I could ask of a show than this. It’s the closest Japan has come to perfect live action yaoi since Seven Days (and I never make that comparison lightly).

Squee watch-along here.

My Ride

Thai 2022

Thai BL grew up with this pulp (the first ever to make my end of year top 10). It’s a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine (AKA a cinnamon roll couple) plus mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest, and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede, the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple.

Takara & Amagi AKA Takara-kun to Amagi-kun

Japan 2022 I gnawed on my knuckles and squealed a lot with this BL. Reserved cool kid who must learn to communicate to keep the tiny disaster nugget he’s madly in love with. It is beyond charming: soft and gentle, packed with cuteness and high school angst, thirst, & yearning. Was there plot? Not really. Was it emotionally tense and paced well enough for me not to notice? Absolutely. Did I enjoy the hell out of it? Oh yes.

Kiseki: Dear to Me

Taiwan 2023

The plot is totally ridiculous and slightly unhinged, but that’s normal for Taiwan. It involves all the tropes under a very casual framework of gay mafia gangs + food = love. Absolutely every character is queer. There’s a gum-ball machine of cameos, elder gay rep, great chemistry from all pairs, and a KILLER side couple. As a result Kiseki is a poster child for Taiwanese BL, and I happen to love Taiwanese BL. Bonus? They also managed to END IT WELL, which we cannot expect from Taiwan.

My Personal Weatherman AKA Taikan Yoho

Japan 2023

This style of live action yaoi really only works from Japan. Basically: boys who fell in love in college end up living together but both are so repressed they actually don't realize they're in love. It's higher heat than we usually get from Japan's HEA stuff, and that part is also very well done, but it leaned into the "why don't they just talk for fuck's sake?" trope which is only exacerbated into undiluted frustration by the fact that they're already fucking. It's great, but watching requires more patience than usual, even for Japan.

Our Dining Table AKA Bokura no Shokutaku

Japan 2023

A lonely salaryman and talented cook gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. I was always gonna love this show if they stuck to the manga (which is very dear to my heart). And they did, paralleling it almost exactly. It’s a quiet & cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. Possibly too slow for some but definitely high up there for me as the best of what Japan can do with softness (like Restart After Come Back Home). It’s only flaw (if I dare say such a thing) is that it is not really “romantic.” Lovely & sweet but the romance beats are being used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy, but that's OK with me. This is a very safe show for anyone to watch.

Step By Step

Thai 2023

This was Thailand’s answer to The New Employee, and everything I loved about that show I loved about this one. This office romance between a stern boss and sweet subordinate felt more authentic to cubical work than previous Thai BLs of this ilk. That authenticity added tension to the narrative and its characters development (how novel). I also really enjoyed the charming side characters and the brothers' relationship to each other (although I could have done without that brother's side BL).

Long Time No See

Korea (Strongberry) 2017

Catfishing assassins on either side of a turf war who fall in love not knowing they are on opposite sides. Or do they? Suspenseful plot, good fight sequences, mature characters, hot sexitimes and even hotter beating the shit out of each other and kissing while covered in blog (this came from KOREA?), plus an HEA. One of the hidden gems of the BL genre.

About Youth

Taiwan 2022

A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and an earnest depth. I didn’t even mind the singing, and that’s saying a lot. A weak seme/uke dynamic but tons of BL tropes (both rare in a high school setting but common for Taiwan) makes this one feel both sweet and colored by real world authenticity and grit.

Some of these shows ALSO appeared on Viki or iQIYI, but these BLs will appear only once on these round up posts (here for Gaga), not on the other platforms top 10.

(source)

This list updated Spring 2024, not responsible for cool stuff that aired on Gaga (or was taken off the platform) after that date.

This is part of a series more here:

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sivyera · 2 months

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Hii! Can I make a request please? Jacob Black and the fem imprint reader. The reader is a human.~ Thanks in advance if you write <3

ofc! i don't know any specific details so i'm just gonna write headcanons.

dating headcanons

jacob black x fem!imprint!human!reader

when jacob found out that YOU are his imprint, he completely forgot about bella

it was indescribable feeling, when his eyes met your

he of course started spending a lot of time with you and the rest is history

he's overprotective, he knows how vampires (the cold ones) are dangerous and it's also a wolf thing (yk what's his, is his)

he hesitated from the start when you suggested to see his wolf form but it took you few seconds and you had a giant puppy in front of you

he lets you ride on his back as he runs through the forest

he's extremely warm so you don't have to worry about being cold, he's always right next to you, ready to hug you and warm you up

he'd make you a bracelet with a tiny wolf attached to it from wood (ofc) it was precise and beautiful work, he put a lot's of love in it which makes it much special

you often help him with his father like when jake is not around and has to do some things like when he's out on patrol or when he's helping fix someones motorcycle, doesn't matter

so you often cook for his father (and for jacob also) or clean his house or just talk

but be prepared for a LOTS of cooking, because they eat a lot!

billy, jacob's father has a special place for you in his heart, you are very kind to him and you make his son happy, he really appreciate you a lot

others from the pack also loves you, especially emily

baking with emily every sunday became a tradition and jacob always makes sure he's first one to taste your baking

but they also tease jacob a lot, paul does it a lot and sometimes it's too much so you have to separate them

the pack is your new family, they protect you a lot, because you are a human plus much younger then emily so

jacob often finds himself drained from the night patrols he sometimes has to take, so all he wants to do after them is lay down on his bed, wrap his arms around your waist and hide his face into your neck, which also happens pretty often

overall he's a real cuddle bug, he's like a baby sometimes; more like a puppy

you are his passenger princess and whenever you two are in his truck, his hand always finds it's way to your thigh

he loves forehead kisses, it's his way of saying 'i love you and you are safe'

whenever you have a sleepover, you will make pizza and eat it while watching some stupid romantic movie like the notebook, but he secretly loves it

while cuddling his arms has to be wrapped around your waist and your back has to be against his chest, that's the only position he feels like he protects you

...and he can reach your every body part

sometimes he teases you by slightly pinching your but and it always makes him laugh when you squeak and then hit his biceps

he rides you to school on his motorcycle and always picks you up after

sometimes you two ride on his bike through Forks at night, just enjoying the moment

#sivyera's masterlist #sivyera #x reader #fluff #sivyera masterlist #twilight #twilight x reader #jacob black x reader #twilight jacob #twilight jacob black x reader #twilight jacob x reader #twilight x reader headcanons #twilight headcanonons #twilight jacob x reader headcanons #twilight jacob black x reader headcanons #jacob black fluff #jacob black x reader fluff #jacob black headcanons

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lalacliffthorne · 8 months

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because Instagram has been showing me a lot of dudes on motorcycles lately and that just really messes with my brain. so here's a lil modern!Az drabble. with a motorcycle.

(this actually might be a tiny lil sneak peak at a new drabble universe I´m currently building... 👀)

Trudging down the steps to the parking lot, I blinked into the sun that was already close to the horizon, sending warm golden rays over the few cars still there. Letting my eyes flicker over them, I felt my brows crease a little in confusion when I couldn't find Feyre's old mint-colored Bronco anywhere.

Beginning to slowly make my way through the parking lot, I looked over my shoulder, sliding my phone out of the pocket of my jeans as I looked back ahead - and stilled on the spot as my heart missed a beat, leaping against my ribs.

Near the entrance of the parking lot, Azriel leaned against his motorcycle. He was so tall, he basically lounged on the seat, his long legs stretched out on front of him. As usual, he was wearing all black, his jeans tucked into his boots, his armored jacket open over a plain hoodie. A strand of dark hair had fallen over his forehead as he looked to the side towards the other entrance, his brows crunched a little against the light of the low sun that made his skin shimmer golden.

Next to him him, two helmets sat on the tank.

My lips parted slightly, my breath hitched, and like he could feel my eyes on him, Azriel turned his head, his gaze finding mine.

The crease between his brows smoothed a little, and I thought I saw a soft twinkle flash through his eyes. Then one corner of his lips curved, and he straightened up, slipping his hands into his pockets and raising a brow at me.

Beginning to slowly move towards him, I squinted against the golden light, something beginning to pound against my ribs as I fought the ridiculously wide smile threatening to spread over my face and called: "What are you doing here?"

"Just finished class." Azriel's deep, steady voice sent shivers through my body, my heart stumbling in its rhythm when he watched me approach him, a soft twinkle dancing in his eyes. "Rhys texted me that Feyre's stuck at the gallery and that you needed a ride home, so I waited."

Something skipped against my ribs when I came to a halt in front of him, tipping my head back to frown up at him in slightly confused suspicion.

"And you just happened to have another helmet with you?"

Azriel's eyes flickered over my face, and one corner of his lips curved a little. Then he started stripping out of his jacket.

My heart tipped over in my chest, and my breath hitched as my eyes darted up to his face.

"What are you doing?"

"As long as you're on the back of my bike, your safety is priority." Azriel took a step forward, towering over me as one side of his lips quirked upwards. "Which means there's no way I'm gonna let you ride like this." Sliding the strap of my bag off my shoulder and dropping the tote between his feet, he straightened up again, handing me his jacket.

Feeling my brows furrow softly, I slowly took it, squinting up at him. "What about you?"

Azriel was standing so close he had to dip his head down to look at me, the golden specks in his eyes glimmering in the sun. "I'm fine."

My frown deepened. "No, you're not."

Az huffed, but the look he sent me lacked any heat, seeming more amused than anything else when he raised a brow at me and rapped his knuckles against his chest. "Armored."

"You run around with an armored hoodie and your jacket on a random Thursday?" I stared up at him with a suspicious frown even as my lips curved upwards and something suddenly fluttered against my ribs, and Azriel's cheek creased just a little as he looked down at me.

"Just put on the jacket, smart-ass."

Staring up at him for another second, I then grumbled softly and slowly complied.

The armor fitted into the material made the jacket pretty heavy. Slipping into the sleeves, I felt something in my chest dip softly when a wave of Azriel's scent washed over me; his cologne that smelled warm like cedar and something that was just him, deep and earthy and unobtrusively addictive.

The weight of the jacket felt strangely comforting when I slid it over my shoulders, tugging the hood of my sweatshirt out from underneath. The material was drowning me, far longer than it was supposed to be and probably looking ridiculous, and when I raised my head, I just caught Azriel's eyes flickering over me. He blinked, then he took a step forward, and my heart swerved sharply when his chest almost brushed against mine. My eyes darted up, and suddenly, my throat felt a little dry.

Azriel's iris was piercing as it moved over my face. I could feel the warmth radiating off his body when he reached out, carefully freeing my braid from under the material, then he reached down and tugged the jacket close. His knuckles grazed my chest when he zipped it up, straightening the collar, and my heart tipped over when his rough, warm skin brushed over my skin.

One corner of his lips twitched, and gently, Azriel raised a brow.

"This good?"

I swallowed softly and nodded, because his deep, quiet voice made something thrum so heavily in my chest, I didn't trust my own.

The corner of his lips curved up a little more, then Azriel took a step back, leaning down and picking up my bag to stuff it into his backpack. Taking it when he handed it over, I slid the straps over my shoulders. It wasn't too heavy, even with my things inside as well, which was a bit strange, considering I knew he must've had quite a few lectures today and had definitely needed his laptop -

Azriel stepped towards me, and my heart stumbled again when his hands closed around the straps, tightening them until the backpack was sitting snugly against my back. I tried to keep my breath from hitching as I looked up at him, the strand of hair still stubbornly curving over his forehead as he dipped his head to check the zippers of the jacket again.

Azriel threw me a look, and there was a light crease to the side of his lips, then he blinked.

"Alright." He pulled a pair of gloves from his back pocket, looking over my head when a car rolled past. "Put these on."

"You just happen to have another pair of gloves?" I felt my lips curve into a slow, incredulous grin as I raised my eyes to stare up at him, simply because this was getting ridiculous, and Azriel threw me a glowering look that made me beam.

Azriel's lips curved a little, then he turned around, and I slipped into the gloves. They were quite big, and I had to pull the velcro strap tight over my wrist so they wouldn't slip. Then I raised my head, and my breath hitched when Azriel swung a leg over the bike, sitting down on the leather seat. I could see his shoulders shift even under the loose hoodie as he picked up one of the helmets, holding it out to me.

Stepping forward, I took it and carefully pulled it over my head, the feeling a little strange as I shuffled it in place. Trying to tighten the strap under the chin, I furrowed my brows in frustration. How on earth was I supposed to do that with these huge gloves o-

Fingers slipped under my jacket and into my belt loops, and my eyes darted up, my breath hitching and stilling when Azriel pulled me forward until I bumped into his side.

My heart did a backflip before tilting, and Az reached up to gently pull the strap tight until it rested against my skin. His fingers brushed over my throat, causing a soft shuddering tingle to travel down my spine, then they slipped down, checking the jacket, the straps of the backpack and the gloves. I felt my heart beat into my throat as I stared at the focused crunch of his brows, then I blinked when Azriel raised his head.

"Alright, I already set up the comms, so you'll be able to talk to me even with the helmets on."

I nodded, flexing my shoulders as my heart started fluttering in my chest, and Azriel's gaze moved over my face, his iris looking like molten gold in the sinking sun. Then one corner of his lips quirked.

"Ready?"

I exhaled softly, shaking out my arms and nodding, feeling my heart skip, now in nerves and excitement. "Yep."

Azriel straightened and looked over his shoulder as I stepped forward. Just sitting upright on the bike, he was still tall enough that I had to actually raise my arms up to grab his shoulders as I placed my right foot on the rear footrest. Azriel's hand came up, closing around my elbow to steady me as he looked back at me, and my heart skipped a beat when his amber eyes settled steadily on my face.

"One, two -" His hand squeezed my elbow, and I pulled myself up onto the seat behind him.

A soft, breathy giggle left me, and I thought I felt Azriel's shoulders vibrate in a quiet, amused chuckle. Then he looked over his shoulder, and my heart rose when I saw the twinkle in his eyes. "You good?"

I nodded, my hands slipping over his back as I shuffled until I was comfortable, then I raised my head, and Azriel arched an eyebrow. "I'll need you to hold on tight and stay close, okay?"

I saluted cheekily, something under my ribs suddenly hopping with excitement, and Azriel huffed, but I saw the curve of his lips as he turned back around.

I drummed my fingers against Azriel's back as he put on his helmet, the giddy feeling in my chest expanding when he slipped on his gloves. Then he looked over his shoulder, and I almost jumped a little in surprise when I heard his voice clearly in my helmet.

"You ready?"

Quickly wrapping my arms around his middle and squeezing, I nodded, and even though I could barely see the outline of his face under the dark visor, I was sure to see Azriel's lips curve. Then he turned back around.

"Then let's go." He started the engine, and my breath hitched when the bike sprung to life, vibrating a little. Azriel leaned forward, and I followed his movement, slipping my arms tighter around him as my body curved into his back and my heart fluttered in excitement. Then Az pushed off, and I buried my fingers in his hoodie when we turned in a wide arch, the rumble of the engine causing my spine to tingle giddily as Azriel headed for the exit.

The golden sunlight illuminated the streets, its rays falling through the red and yellow leaves and reflecting off windows as the cool wind brushed over my ankles, sending happy shivers down my spine as I held onto Azriel and looked up at the buildings zipping past as he weaved through the early evening traffic. I could feel his muscles shift under my arms wrapped tightly around him.

"You okay?" His deep voice vibrated through me even forwarded by the comms, and my breath hitched when his right hand slipped off the handle, reaching back to gently close around the inside of my knee. Even with gloves on I swore I could feel the warmth of his skin seep through the material of my jeans as he squeezed lightly, and something swerved in my chest.

I nodded quickly before realising he couldn´t see it, and my heart skipped as I called back, a wide, beaming smile spreading over my face: "Yeah!"

A soft chuckle vibrated through Azriel's body. For a second, I could feel his hand linger, body relaxed as I buried my fingers in his hoodie, then he slipped it off and looked over his shoulder, and I leaned to the side a little so he could see past me, squinting into the sun as Azriel switched lanes.

#azriel #az #azriel drabble #azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel/reader #azriel x female!reader #az x reader #az imagine #az/reader #acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotar drabble #modern!roommate batboys series #modern au #lalacliffthorne #drabble

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