#but also not because it would have hit three times as hard to lose all that stuff because of poor communication | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadowandlightt · 3 months

Text

Of Nightmares and Memories /six/ Azriel X reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

You toss and turn in your bed, unable to sleep. It seems like no matter how many tonics you tried taking, none of them are going to do their job. Not with Rhys back in the Court of Nightmares with your father, Cassian and Azriel with them as well.

It always made you anxious when they were away from Valaris, no matter where they were. You knew no one would dare touch them in the Court of Nightmares, but you also knew the roles they had to play. And how taxing it was on all three of your boys.

Rustling in the hall made you sit up. The house was quiet, no one else was here aside from your mother, who was most likely fast asleep and not pacing outside of your door. Carefully, you got out of bed and reached for the dagger on your nightstand, it had been a gift from Az for your last birthday.

You weren’t sure what you expected when you opened your door, but it wasn’t Az pacing back and forth like he did before he entered your father’s office.

“Az?” You question, causing him to pause, “What are you doing out here? Aren’t you meant to be-”

He rushes forward, grabbing your face in his hands before crashing his lips against yours. You’re taken back for a moment, because he’d never been so forceful with you before. All of his touches were always light and gentle as if he was afraid you might break. But never this…hunger.

“Az-”

“I flew straight here after we were dismissed,” He says against your lips, “I had to see you.”

You rub your hands down his arms, trying to calm him, “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere Az.”

“The things those vile men said-”

“They always say things,” You can feel your eyes rolling.

“I wanted to kill them. I should’ve.”

“Shh,” You whisper, pulling him into your room and shutting the door, “I’m perfectly fine. They can’t so much as put a finger on me. I’m untouchable, remember?”

His hands wander down your body, “You’re far from untouchable.”

“Maybe to you.”

He smirks and Cauldron it’s a beautiful sight. You would do anything to see him smirk or smile all of the time. And Mother when he laughs, it's your undoing. But when he sings, and he does for you, you lose all control.

“I love being able to touch you,” He said gruffly.

“I love that you love touching me,” You somehow challenge him with the simple sentence.

Your nightgown leaves little to the imagination as you back away from him towards the bed. You eye him for a moment before holding a hand out in a silent invitation. Maybe not for sex, because you’d never had sex with anyone before, let alone Azriel. But for something else, something far more intimate. Because he hardly slept, let alone with anyone else besides you.

He toes off his boots and undoes the straps to his various sheaths along his body. You know the look in his eyes. The adrenaline is wearing off and he’s starting to crash. You know he’ll likely be asleep before his head even really hits the pillow. And that’s okay, because you love that he feels so safe with you.

“I have to leave before the sun is up,” He warns you.

“I know,” You tug at his hand again, “Just for the night.”

He swallows hard. You aren’t sure how much restraint it takes for him to do this with you, because every time he seems to battle with himself. Yet, he does it anyway. He always seems to find his way back to your bed.

“I wish I could have the mornings too,” he whispers to you.

You nuzzle against him and pull him down onto the bed, tangling your legs with his before pulling the covers over both of you. You try to blink away the tears before they fall, because you wish you could have every night and every morning with him. Not just the stolen moments you’ve become so accustomed to. You’re tired of sneaking around Valaris just to have a moment with him. Sure your brother and Cas know, because they’re both nosy busy bodies, but if your father ever found out he would have Azriel killed on sight. Precious Shadowsinger or not.

“Hush now,” You tell him softly, “We have what we have. And I thank the Mother for it everyday.”

It’s his turn to nuzzle against you. He kisses your neck before snuggling down into your bed, pulling you on top of him. Your whole body relaxes against him. Because this feels like the most natural thing in the world to you. As if nothing else mattered but him and you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him quietly.

“Not particularly,” he replies with equal softness, “I hate having to go to that place. I’m just thankful you were spared this time.”

“It’s all over now,” You assure him, “Get some sleep. I have no doubt there will be plenty for you to do within the coming days.”

“He’s sending us back to the camps,” He tells you, voice turning cold.

Your body goes rigid, because you know how much Azirel hates the camps. They all hate them, but Az and Cas especially. You know there’s nothing you can do to stop it, nothing you can do to change your fathers mind. So instead you hold Az even tighter, kissing along his jaw before reaching his lips.

You kiss him slowly, pouring every ounce of love you feel into it. You haven’t uttered those words to him, but you feel them. So deeply in your chest it nearly hurts. You’re alive with it. As if your love is a living breathing thing that somehow connects the two of you. You revel in it. Because you know that somehow he feels the same way.

You feel it in every touch. Every kiss. Every stolen moment with him.

“Sleep now,” You whisper to him.

Sleep now my love.

“I hate I won’t be here when you wake,” he kisses the top of your head.

“One day,” you promise him, “One day we’ll be free to do as we wish.”

Only that day never came. Because two weeks later you were taken by Tamlin and his brothers. You watched as they cleaved your mother’s wings from her body, and then, only once she was screaming and bleeding out, begging for your life instead of hers, did they remove her head and put her out of her misery. She never knew that you were spared. But not spared in every way.

They knew you possessed wings too, one of Tamlin’s brothers, the more brutish of them, probably the one next in line to be High Lord, decided to slice into your back for them. As if you had them hidden just behind your skin. You screamed for hours as they flayed your back open.

Tamlin crudely healed you before they brought you back to the manor house. The glamor Tamlin himself put on you and your rooms were too strong for Rhys to see through. Or maybe he was too preoccupied with killing Tamlin’s father to see through it. Either way, he left without you, which he never would have done had he known you were there.

Outside, people were gathered for the wedding. Feyre and Tamlin’s wedding. The thought made you want to get sick. You couldn’t imagine her, the wild human who went charging under the mountain, being stuck here to be nothing more than a broodmare. She was already withering away.

Her wrenching woke you up nightly, although you never heard Tamlin move a muscle. You could gut him for what he was doing to that poor girl. She was slowly suffocating here. You might die here in the Spring Court, but you’d be damned if you let Feyre die here too.

Ianthe, the bitch herself, reemerged for the wedding. You hoped you’d seen the last of her years ago, when Tamlin turned her down the last time. But it seemed she found a way to weave her way back into Spring. Anothing thing to make you sick.

You watch, eyes wide as Feyre appears, looking like the ridiculously frilly dolls you had as a small child. The aisle is laden with red rose petals, despite the fact you heard Feyre beg for no red anywhere near the day. You wondered if she looked at it and saw blood.

She takes one step, and then another, but never makes it to the dais where Tamlin is waiting with an open hand. Ianthe is trying to coax her towards them. Saying ridiculous things that make you grind your teeth together.

But Feyre is not moving. You can’t see her face, but you can feel her panic. The sheer panic that’s ripping through her as easily as that damned wyrm would have Under The Mountain. You wish you could leave the room and help her, take her anywhere but here, but you’re stuck. Bound to stay in the room thanks to warding Tamlin set upon it days ago. He claimed it was to keep you out of trouble, but really it was to save his own skin. There are too many people from too many courts, if one of them was to see you, and mention something to Rhys, Tamlin would be dead.

You can almost hear Feyre praying for someone to help her, before a thunderous crack shakes the very earth. Darkness pools just feet from Feyre and your brother steps out from it. You loosen a breath you weren’t even sure you were holding. He could take her away, even if just for a week, but the wedding wouldn’t go through. Feyre would be safe for a week. Well looked after under Rhys’ supervision, maybe she would even eat something while she was there.

He would take her to the Moonstone Palace, above the Court of Nightmares, it was the safest place for her. It wouldn’t reveal too much about the court, and wouldn't show her anything of importance. But most importantly, it would keep her above ground, where she could breathe.

Even with your fae hearing, you couldn’t hear what Rhys was saying. Your hands were pressed to the glass, begging for him to somehow see you and bring you with him. But he reached for Feyre in one quick moment and they were gone.

It took Tamlin all of five minutes to storm into your rooms. You opened your mouth to say something smart and snarky, but the back of his hand collided with your face, sending you flying backwards.

A metallic taste fills your mouth as you fight the urge to spit the blood out. You push yourself up onto your hands, and look up. Tamlin is seething, angrier than you’d ever seen from him. And you pride yourself on being able to make him extremely angry. You’d forced those claws to come out more than once, made him explode several times over the hundreds of years that you’d been here. You were very proud of it. But this was new.

“I’ll kill the both of you,” He hissed.

“I’d like to see you try,” You laugh, blood coating your teeth from where your lip had split, “Killing me might be easy, thanks to how weak you like to keep me, but killing him? No, not even you could manage that, oh High Lord.”

“Even a High Lord can be killed,” He seethes.

“Perhaps, but even with your full power, you couldn’t kill Rhys. He would mist you before you got the chance,” You tell him, still grinning wildly, “But by all means, go ahead and kill me. My life was over the moment you stole me.”

“I saved you,” He moves back to hit you once more, “And for what? You’re nothing. Your own brother doesn’t care that you live. You stood in front of him and he didn’t even notice.”

You feel that blow harder than any physical blow he could have dealt you. Because it’s true, Rhys never noticed. He had three months since Amerantha had been killed, and he hasn’t come for you. Your escape plan hadn’t worked, because he hadn’t even noticed that you were right there in front of him. Have you changed so much?

“I think letting you live with the knowledge that he doesn't care is better than killing you outright,” It was Tamlin’s turn to laugh now, “His precious sister, the one he killed for, right under his nose the entire time. How pathetic.”

You make a wounded sort of noise.

“Yes, letting you live with that truth is far greater,” Tamlin seemed to agree with himself, “Let’s see how you do locked away until he returns Feyre to me.”

“One day Tamlin, I will help rip you limb from limb,” You promise, “One day.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Little Star,” He spits the old nickname at you.

Tag List

@historygeekqueen @saltedscotchcoffee @queerqueenlynn @wallacewillow0773638 @sstrohma @hnyclover @thelov3lybookworm @maddybraps @minnieoo @witchymomfrien @mariahoedt @one-big-fangirl @amara-moonlight @st0rmyt @annamariereads16 @hunterksmith @sleepylunarwolf @sh4nn @emryb @mikatanazaki

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel x you #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

262 notes · View notes

adore-laur · 1 month

Text

DEVOTION

— please enjoy harry & sawyer getting freaky in miami (inspired by this ask)💃

——

MIAMI, 1993

People are packed into the arena like sardines. August humidity suffuses the air, a cacophony of chatter overlaps, and an infectious energy pulses in the room as everyone waits for Sade to hit the stage in all their sensational glory.

In the general admission area, Harry stands behind Sawyer with his arms protectively draped over her shoulders. Her footing shifts occasionally as she fiddles with his rings. He can sense her anticipation—she's been looking forward to this concert for months. When he gifted her the tickets on her birthday, she wept and kissed him with a hunger he had never experienced from her before. As much as he spoils her, she goes the extra mile to show him her appreciation.

Once the lights go out, Harry can't wait to see her vivacious eyes and dazzling smile.

Sawyer looks ravishing tonight. Her black cropped tank top has a variety of enticing little cutouts—no bra underneath, he might add—and she's wearing low-waisted denim shorts which hug her ass most temptingly. There's a reason he opted to stand behind her—two, actually. One, he doesn't want any dudes getting a sneak peek of his girl. And two, he doesn't need anyone seeing his hardness through his leather pants.

She curled her hair with natural-looking spirals and teased it with spray. Her long, wavy mane has always been a hassle to manage in the summertime, so she cut it collarbone-length. Her front bangs are tightly clipped back, and she wears gold hoop earrings. She’s truly a stunner.

Prior to leaving, Harry watched her as she got ready for the concert. They live together in a swanky Orlando penthouse, where the simple things like her clothes hanging in the closet and makeup supplies cluttering the bathroom sink make him unbelievably happy. While he gently reminded Sawyer that they needed to leave soon for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Miami, she applied her mascara and teased him by showing her cleavage while bent over the vanity. Despite his provocative urges, he managed to resist giving in.

When Sawyer turns to look at him now, the room reduces to just her. Lucious lips stained with pomegranate-red gloss. Skin glowing with moisture. Dark eyes filled with warmth. It’s breathtaking to behold the sheer beauty of her features. Time and time again, she hypnotizes him. He's beginning to think she can cast spells on his lovesick soul.

Sawyer taps his bicep before standing on her tiptoes to reach his ear. In an instinctive move, Harry touches her hip and leans down to better hear her.

Fanning herself, she says, "It's muggy in here. I'm going to buy a water bottle and braid my hair in the bathroom."

"I'll go with you."

"But you have to save our spot," she reminds him.

Though he nearly protests, he reluctantly nods and caresses the slick skin of her bare middle back. "Fine. You have your phone?"

"In my purse. I'll be fast."

Harry kisses the spot between her eyebrows before letting her go, keeping her locked in his gaze until she disappears past the lower seating sections. In crowds, regardless of size, he doesn’t like losing her. During baseball games, it’s less worrying since she always sits in the same section in her reserved seat, but in Miami, he's extra cautious because it's an unfamiliar city. Sawyer can stand up for herself since sass and stubbornness are intertwined in her Aries DNA, but Harry remains fiercely protective of her. She's a certified sweetheart, conspicuously beautiful, and also quite gullible to a fault—if anyone attempts to take advantage of that, they'll have to answer to him.

While she's gone, Harry observes the venue. There are people from all walks of life surrounding him. The staggered seating sections flanking the floor are filling quickly, and it's reminiscent of playing at Tinker Field, where he would watch fans fill the bleachers from the dugout.

In a few weeks, the minor league season will conclude, and Harry is looking forward to taking a much-needed break from pitching and traveling. He's thankful he didn’t have a game scheduled today, which gave him and Sawyer the chance to step out for a date. It aches to know she's missed him a little more after such a long season. Due to her full-time job, she can’t always travel across America with him or attend home games, but they’re able to make it work by cherishing their time together. Next month, they plan to celebrate their second anniversary in Seville, Spain. They'll sunbathe on the scenic beaches, relish a couples massage, and take romantic strolls through the city's idyllic parks.

And, if Harry doesn't chicken out, he'll ask her to marry him.

Fondly smiling at the thought, he watches two girls strut toward him, parting the crowd like the Red Sea. They're wearing variations of the same outfit—metallic miniskirts, frilly halter tops, and chunky heels. Based on their strikingly similar features, they must be twins. Twin One holds a Canon camera, while Twin Two laughs into her hands.

Harry waves politely before shoving his hands in his pockets. The moment a fan recognizes him, he knows it. There’s a strange shift in the atmosphere when he temporarily loses his shield of privacy. It's unavoidable when fifteen thousand people are gathered in a Miami venue. It comes with the territory of being a famous Florida sports figure.

"Are you Harry Styles?"

Here we go.

Feeling abnormal but pushing past it, he says, "In the flesh. How's it going, ladies?"

"Oh my gosh, we love you," Twin One gushes. "You're hella cute. You play for the Sun Rays, right?"

"Sort of. Our team name got changed recently. We're now the Orlando Cubs."

"Oh, cool," she says distractedly. "Anyway, we want a picture with you."

With a sharp inhale, Harry nods once. “Sure, no problem."

It doesn't bother him to take pictures or sign autographs. Most people are respectful and genuinely honored to meet him. Rarely, however, do people demand things from him, like right now. Then he feels prickles of discomfort. It makes him feel as though he's being exploited. It makes him feel fictitious.

As the girls swarm around him and touch him like he's a wax figure with no boundaries, Sawyer nudges her way through the crowd, water bottle in hand. As she processes the situation, her movements slow and her shoulders drop slightly. She has her hair in two messy braids, with the shorter layers springing loose. She looks effortless and... annoyed. Yeah, Harry is all too familiar with that look. He has been on the receiving end of those slanted eyebrows, those gritted teeth, and those assessing eyes. How will this play out?

When she sees Sawyer, Twin Two strokes his arm suggestively. Thankfully, they see her as a mere stranger rather than his girlfriend. His mind flashes back to past discussions about keeping their relationship as private as possible, and he decides not to sacrifice that for such a measly moment. No chance.

"Can you take a photo of us?" It was wise of her to ask, rather than demand. Otherwise, Harry's friendly mask would have definitely slipped.

Sawyer purses her lips as she meets Harry's gaze. "Do you mind?" he asks, his expression hinting at a secret message.

By taking Twin One's camera, she recognizes his unspoken signal and cleverly leaps into her role. God, he's thankful for her. He knows it's challenging to deal with these bizarre occurrences that pop their bubble, but she handles them all so gracefully. When they get home, he’ll shower her with affection.

Sawyer raises the camera to her eye and says, "I'll take a few."

Harry straightens his posture and awkwardly places his hands on both girls' upper arms. His muscles tense uncomfortably as their hands slither around his waist and linger near his stomach. Amid three flashes, he’s suffocated by the pungent smell of perfume and spearmint gum.

“There you go,” Sawyer says, giving the camera back and forcing a smile.

They browse the pictures before staring at Harry with a sickening amount of adoration. "It was awesome meeting you," Twin Two says, biting her lip. "We'll see you around at the next Sun Rays game."

"Cubs," Sawyer mumbles around a fake cough. Only Harry catches it, and he restrains himself from grinning proudly and kissing her senselessly.

"Nice to meet you both," he says, briefly touching his heart. "Enjoy the concert, yeah?"

They nod, blush, and giggle simultaneously before walking off, staring back at him a couple of times before fading into the sea of strangers. Harry releases a breath he didn't know he was holding and concentrates on Sawyer drinking from her water bottle. He's about to apologize for the unnatural situation, but the venue goes dark, and the audience erupts with deafening cheers.

The joy he expected to see in Sawyer's eyes isn't there. Silently, she crosses her arms and faces the stage with a blank expression. Harry curses at himself—he knows it isn't his fault and that it's just how Sawyer is. She takes things to heart and lets them stew until her skeptical thoughts overflow without a lid. The fact that she didn’t witness the entire interaction has made her understandably upset. Harry regrets not saying no to the fans.

First on the setlist is "The Sweetest Taboo"—sonically sensual, intoxicatingly groovy, and a fantastic way to open their show. Everybody dances to the exquisite beat and sings along to the lyrics. The energy in the room soars to an unimaginable level. It's contagious.

Harry grips Sawyer's hand so the crowd doesn't swallow her whole. She turns and smiles softly, finally bobbing her head to the music. Slowly, she loosens up, unfurling the passionate girl he knows lives within her. The one who loves to dance.

She looks resplendent as indigo lights glide across her face. Her body begins to move—the shape of her swaying hips and the pinch of her waist are irresistible. Harry settles behind her and follows her smooth movements, grinding against her backside. The warmth of his hands rests on her ribcage, and they dance, getting lost in the ecstasy of experiencing live music.

With each song, they forget about the world outside and fall more in love with each other.

——

Harry and Sawyer leave the arena on a high after being captivated by Sade's sultry voice and entrancing stage presence for over an hour. The parking lots are already congested with people trying to beat traffic, so they decide to wait until it calms down.

As soon as they get into the car, Harry starts the engine and turns on the air conditioning before reclining the driver's seat. With exhaustion swimming through his bones, he sighs contently. It was a magical concert, but he's not looking forward to driving back to Orlando. He'll need to stop by 7/11 for an energy drink and some snacks. Fortunately, tomorrow is Sunday, so they can both sleep in and laze around the whole day.

Sawyer unbraids her hair and removes the clips, then shakes her head cutely to let her wild curls loose. She looks tired as well. They danced the night away together, not caring who saw them. He told her to climb on his back a few times so she could get a better view of the stage. During the romantic slow-tempo songs, she hugged and kissed him sweetly, and he swears he almost got down on one knee right then and there.

"I love you, baby," Harry says, watching her take off her Doc Martens. "Tonight was divine."

A smile spreads across Sawyer's face. "I love you too. Hey, listen..." She reaches over to caress his cheek and thumb the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry about my buzzkill attitude at the beginning."

Shaking his head, he kisses her palm. “You don't have to apologize. I appreciate how you handled those girls."

He hopes to forget about what happened. Honestly, as soon as the concert started, he forgot all about them. There was only one thing on his mind: Sawyer and the mesmerizing way she moved.

"I just... I got jealous," Sawyer confesses sheepishly.

Harry frowns in astonishment. Jealousy is a rare emotion for Sawyer. They’ve been dating for almost two years, and he can count on one hand the number of times she has been outwardly jealous. Since he only has eyes for her, there's no rhyme or reason for her to feel this way.

What a new and fun development, Harry thinks to himself. He loves how their relationship continues to surprise him.

Harry, however, has been caught having jealous fits many times before. Like that instance when Sawyer was invited to lunch by her so-called "cubicle neighbor." Harry is her forever lunch date, not anyone else. Even when he can't be there in person, he'll call her office fax number and keep her company while she munches her cucumber salad. Harry's jealousy grew when he discovered some guy was trying to steal that from him, so he ordered an impressive bouquet to be delivered to her desk the following day. It didn't take long for everyone to get the hint. Then there was that time when they were watching The Bodyguard, and Sawyer kept squealing girlishly over Kevin Costner's character. Okay, so he literally took a bullet for the woman he loved. Big deal! Harry smothered his jealousy by obnoxiously pretending to be Sawyer's bodyguard while exiting the movie theater and then proceeding to sing "I Have Nothing" off-key the entire way home. She just laughed, which was his goal in the first place.

"Why'd you get jealous?" Harry asks.

Sawyer's brow quirks. "Well, when I'm subjected to taking pictures of two pretty girls who are all over my boyfriend, it doesn't necessarily feel good."

"I know," he says, frustrated with himself. "I should've refused them. They kind of trapped me."

She pouts sympathetically before climbing over the console and straddling his thighs. "My sweet sunray. You're too nice."

Harry pulls her closer by hooking his fingers through her belt loops and tugging. "I'm sorry you were jealous."

"I shouldn't have been. You know why?"

"Tell me." Reaching around her, he turns up the volume of the radio to drown out the sounds of cars honking at each other. The cassette tape they listened to on the drive to Miami is still playing on loop. "Paradise" by Sade sets the mood.

"Because you're mine," Sawyer says with conviction.

Spreading his legs on the seat, he smirks. "Say that again, angel."

"You're mine. No one else's."

"Ditto," he replies, rubbing his palms along her suntanned thighs. "You've got my devotion."

His bodacious girl bites his bottom lip until it stings, then says, "Prove it."

"Good fuckin' lord," Harry murmurs against her mouth before diving in. He kisses her ravenously while fumbling to unbutton her shorts, eventually helping her shimmy out of them. Sawyer shoves her hand down his pants and grasps his bulge, stroking it purposefully. He gasps and slides his pants down halfway, revealing his tented boxers.

"Are you mine?" she asks, sitting right on his cock and sending shockwaves of sex drive down his spine. Her body heat is addictive.

"Yes," he says breathlessly, kissing along her flushed neck. "I'm your man."

"Then act like it. Show me who you belong to."

A shocked laugh escapes as he greedily grabs a handful of her ass. "Sawyer Alejandra, what has Miami done to you? Ay, Dios mío!"

She smiles seductively. "It's Sade's fault."

"Is that right?" Harry cranks the volume up even more before allusively sliding his hand under her top and cupping the swell of her breast. It fits perfectly, and when he teases her peaked nipple with his thumb, Sawyer's palm slaps against the window as she grinds against him. The glass is fogging with the A/C running, sweat drips down his back, and the song's driving bass line pulsates loudly through the speakers. It's filthy what they're doing, considering potential onlookers surround them. It's a good thing the car has tinted windows.

The thrill of their sexual escapade pulses through Harry's body. As he kisses Sawyer's heaving breasts through her top's cutouts, the pleasure becomes borderline intolerable. His lips search for any sliver of skin, and in response, she tugs his hair and whimpers softly. Her skimpy lace underwear is damp, and he switches his attention to her clit. He rubs it with his knuckle, causing Sawyer's hips to momentarily stutter before she leans into the movement and stamps sloppy kisses all over his face, her cherry-flavored lip gloss transferring to his cheeks, nose, and jaw. They're as sweet as sugar.

"Almost there," Sawyer whispers, running her hand across his broad chest. Her fingers grip the material of his bejeweled sleeveless top to keep herself balanced, and Harry would let her rip it apart if he hadn't spent several hours meticulously hot gluing rhinestones onto it.

After kissing down her stomach and blowing air onto her belly button ring, he teases two fingers past her wet entrance, and it's all she needs to unravel completely. As she orgasms, she leaves love bites on his neck and moans. Her body language is desperate, the arch of her back and the tightening of her thighs against his own helping her through her release.

"Nice and easy, baby," Harry murmurs, squeezing her waist. "Take your time."

From the gratifying pain she inflicts on the tender flesh of his neck, Harry comes in his boxers, his pelvis jerking as goosebumps rise over his skin in transient tidal waves. It feels equally divine and unholy what they just did. Tiredness kicks in as they both breathe heavily. Gradually, the condensation on the windows disappears. Sawyer's handprint is the last thing to vanish, and the sight will undeniably haunt his memory in the most marvelous way.

Harry opens the glovebox and finds the stash of napkins. After cleaning Sawyer and himself, he pulls his pants back up, shuts the radio off, and says, "I've made up my mind."

"About what?" Sawyer asks, sitting sideways on his lap so she can stretch her legs. In just her cropped top, underwear, and adorable ruffle socks, she's a masterpiece. And all his.

"I'm gonna marry you one day," he says. It's something he's known for a long time. He hopes that easing her into the topic will make him more confident about proposing next month.

Sawyer pinches his earlobe. "Don't say dreamy things like that."

"Oh, that’s bogus," he retorts. "You say heart-stopping things to me all the time without even realizing. Especially after sex."

"Not marriage-related things!"

"Does that mean you don't want to marry me?" he asks, fishing for a reaction.

When she goes quiet and stares contemplatively at him, Harry's stomach swoops. He knows her exceptionally well, which means he knows she tends to shy away from substantial conversations regarding their future when they're sprung upon her by his spontaneous nature. Perhaps it's too early to propose a lifelong commitment, but hasn't she imagined sharing a life with him before? The moment he kissed her for the first time, he fantasized about settling down, buying a house away from the city, tying the knot, and having curly-haired babies.

Eventually, Sawyer says, "I would marry you in this parking lot right now if you asked me to."

Harry feels an internal splash of relief and plays it cool by saying, "Please raise your standards."

"Are you saying you wouldn't want to marry me in a parking lot, lover boy?" She tosses her version of his question back to him with a frisky smile.

"I'd find you and marry you in every lifetime. How's that for an answer?"

She’s speechless for five full seconds before lurching forward to hug him, her heart hammering. "You're crazy. I love you so, so much."

"I adore you," Harry whispers. He reaches for the 'S' pendant hiding under his top's neckline and pulls it out. "I'm forever yours."

Sawyer kisses him repeatedly and says, "Forever."

During the journey home, she falls asleep with her head in his lap, holding his hand while he drives. His thumb absentmindedly strokes her ring finger, and he feels a surge of emotion and excitement knowing he will get to spend the years to come by her side.

Years filled with being deeply devoted to her.

——

#harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles #adore-laur #harry and sawyer #southpaw series

141 notes · View notes

starboybutler · 3 months

Text

don't count on it

summary: buck can't sleep. bucky helps him out.

word count: 2675

warnings: period typical homophobia and homophobic attitudes, handjobs, brief objectification of women, brief talks of war, guys being dudes

notes: i began writing this before i watched mota yesterday so forgive me if anything seems out of character. this came to me in a dream at three am and i've been thinking about it since. this is also inspired by @precious-little-scoundrel so thank you for your lovely blog marina. i hope everyone enjoys!

his entire body radiated with a dull ache deep in his joints. as soon as his back hit the bed, his eyes drooped as if he’d fall asleep right then and there. and yet, he laid there, staring at the dull gray ceiling.

he always did this. he yearned to sleep, but as soon as the time to lay down came, he couldn't fall into a sound slumber. too many thoughts racing in his head, too much aching in his body– too much noise all around him. the hum of the rickety air conditioning, the faint mutters and laughs of his bunkmates as they brushed their teeth and got dressed for bed, his own breathing reverberating in his ears. it all was so mundane, but too overwhelming.

he shut his eyes, hoping sleep would just come to him. he tried to ignore it all– the sounds, the thoughts…but nothing. he was still awake.

the bed dipped next to him, and he didn’t even have to open his eyes to see who it was.

“finally outta the shower?” buck asked, hands tucked behind his head as he waited for a response. “you take forever in there. you're like a woman.”

“yeah yeah,” bucky dismissed, shoving buck playfully as he set his belongings down. “and you didn’t shower long at all. dunno how ya got anything clean in that time.”

“i’m very clean.” gale huffed, cracking one eye open. “i just don’t like showering with other people. i like my alone time.”

“uh huh. you just wanna be able to rub one out in there.”

gale sat up and shoved him, laughing in surprise at his friend's brazen words. it was always like this. bucky, being brazen and outgoing, all while buck watched from the sidelines. he liked it that way. he always felt a weird joy when bucky would tell random stories of reckless things he did in the past, or when he insisted on singing after a few drinks at the bar. he’d always say that he was a prude when he resisted his drunken tugging of his arm, trying to urge him on stage with him. buck never took it personally though– mainly because bucky was right. compared to most of the men he’d been around he was prude. he didn’t gamble, drink– hell, he didn't even have one night stands. many of the guys got drunk and went home with the first broad they saw, but buck didn’t feel anything towards the women who would brazenly grip at his arms and called him a stud. sure, he’s made out with a few of them– and almost made a mess of his uniform– but he never took them back to base. he didn't want to lose his purity like that. sure, he’d done plenty of heavy petting and dry humping, but he’s never went all the way with a girl before. it just didn't happen.

he got teased about it, sure, but he stuck by his guns. he didn't see the big deal in rushing to stick your cock into some random woman and then brag about it the next day. it all seemed very shallow to him. he was always told that sex is special– between two people with a strong, loving bond. and he held that close to his heart. he actually was planning to save himself for marriage– but when you're a hormonal teen…its a little hard to fight those primal feelings.

“oh please, i haven't done that since i got here.” buck said earnestly, laying back down and stretching out. “honestly, i haven't done that in almost a year.”

bucky laughed. “no way. i always joked about you bein’ a prude, y’know, but this is a little far.” he cracked. “where ya too busy? or are you actually that green?”

“i’m not green,” buck grumbled, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “i jus’-- goddamn, i dunno. i wanna save myself, y’know. i try not to do it too often.”

“good god man, you didn't even go for it before you were here? you’re crazy.” egan snorted. “now you’re stuck ‘round all these guys.”

buck just shrugged, laying back down and sighing heavily. “oh well. what can ya do?”

it was quiet, for a moment. buck could feel that bucky was was there, but he was silent– like he was contemplating. buck opened one eye and gazed at him, confused at the way his lips were twitching.

“you…you really aren’t gonna…indulge in any ladies out here?” bucky said, softly, like he was ashamed of asking. “you’re gonna lose it, man. it’s only been a week and i already feel all pent up.”

buck felt his face heat up slightly at the implication that his friend was horny. he bit his lip, dragging his eyes away from his black-haired friend as he let those words soak in. “really?”

“yeah. i– it’s been a while for me too, actually. i didn't really think about how it’d only be us guys out here. shoulda got something before i came out here.”

despite buck’s stance on remaining celibate until his marriage, he strangely understood the other man. even though he hardly engaged in such things, he felt the tension in every room he walked in. everyone seemed taut, like a bowstring– waiting to snap. whenever they’d spar, workout, or shower, the air would be thick enough to cut with a knife. it was an unspoken thing– but everyone felt it. no one wanted to talk about it, because…well, what would that make them? they don't allow fairies in the force, that’s for sure. something so scandalous couldn't even be thought about, unless you wanted a good beat down by every other troop in sight.

“i dunno. i think the last time i did it left me satisfied for a while,” he lied, not wanting to admit that he had the same fire simmering, albeit dimly, in his belly. he never felt like this, so what the hell was his deal?

“bullshit,” bucky swore. “no way your fist leaves you satisfied for years to come. you need a woman, buck. one that’ll rock your world.”

“you know i’m savin’ myself.” buck hummed. “besides, hookin’ up with some random woman doesn't sound appealing.”

“you’re wrong, man.” bucky sighed, laying down next to buck and resting his head on his hands. “it’s magical. raw. primal. makes you feel like a real man.” he grunted, inhaling deeply. “hooked up with this one chick– god, she was gorgeous. eager to go down on me– and she gripped ‘round me so damn tight i thought she cut off my circulation. kept bouncin’ on me and talking about how big i was. goddamn.”

buck’s cheeks flushed at the words leaving his friends mouth. the way he spoke about the woman like she was a pastime or a hobby and not a person was surprising. he could see it, though, clear in his minds eye– a young lady, moaning and panting, bouncing eagerly on bucky’s thick cock, bucky panting and calling her a good girl–

he paused. why was he thinking about bucky so much? and why did it make his face flush even more?

“issat right,” buck mumbled, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach from his lewd imagination.

“uh huh. god– i dream about her all the damn time. what i’d give to be buried in her now.”

silence again. only this time, it felt more tense than the last. the vision that buck had– bucky’s cock, his breathless voice, his flushed face. it made him all hot, like no other girl had before. it scared him.

“you ever been with a girl? obviously not all the way– but at all?”

“of course i have.” buck said defensively. “i– i just…it was high school, maybe. real nice girl, real pretty. she came over to study, and we ended up making out. i was still kinda new to the whole….sex thing, so i told her no when she tried to go all the way. we did end up uh…. rubbin’ on each other though. felt nice.”

“and this was high school?” bucky asked. “and you haven’t been with a girl since?”

buck shook his head. bucky stared at him for a moment, something unreadable flashing in his eyes as he gazed at the blonde. “damn. no wonder you're so damn tense all the time.”

“i’m not tense.”

“you are. you’re always quiet– thinkin’. you never let loose. i bet if you got a handy you’d be as rowdy as the rest of us.”

“quit bein’ dirty.” buck tsked, smacking bucky’s chest lightly. “i don’t need a handy. i need some goddamn sleep.”

“i’m tellin’ ya man. you need to get laid.”

“i’ll smack ya if you say somethin’ pervy again.” buck promised, making bucky snicker softly.

it was quiet again. buck closed his eyes, but he felt as restless as earlier. moreso, even. he kept thinking about bucky’s last hookup, the way he described her, how tight she was. was she really tight? or was bucky just that big, like the girl said?

and there his mind went again. thinking about bucky. that wasn't normal. he needed to stop thinking about bucky and think about girls. like the girl he frotted with in his childhood bed- whatever her name was. the way she grabbed onto him, panted into his neck, shivering and shaking something awful as she came undone all over his slacks. he remembered being shocked at the gush, his cock still unbelievably hard down his thigh after two orgasms. he remembered how bad it hurt, being hard for so long. he wondered if being in a girl was better. he wondered if bucky’s cock stayed hard after he came inside that girl. no– stop. don’t think about the man right next to you. why did he keep–

“you’re breathin’ funny.” bucky observed.

“no i’m not.” buck argued, flustered at how his friend picked up on his heavier breathing. he prayed that he didn't look down and see his dick tenting in his sweats.

he must've. no. he did. his eyes trailed down the lean length of buck’s torso, landing on the large bulge under the fabric of his sweats.

“see what i mean?” bucky breathed, his voice lower in tone than normal. “you're so tense, buck,” he muttered, his hand moving from behind his head. “always so damn tense.”

buck swallowed hard as he felt bucky’s hand rest on his thigh, slowly inching upwards towards his aching cock. his breath stuttered, his face red-hot– but he didn't make a move to stop him. not at all.

bucky’s hand slid into his loose sweats, past the blonde curls, and gently grasped at his cock. buck inhaled sharply, his hand moving to grab bucky’s wrist in a moment of panic. bucky halted, looking up at buck tentatively.

oh, god.

“don't think,” bucky muttered, giving buck a soft squeeze. “jus’ lemme help, yeah? lemme get rid of that tension.”

buck let go slowly, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. bucky’s hand gave him a curious squeeze, making buck grunt and rock his hips up into his grasp. slowly, hesitantly, bucky started to move his hand up and down his throbbing shaft.

“oh, god,” buck swore, his face flushed dark red as he felt his stomach clenching with each milking tug of bucky’s hand. he felt himself, dripping with precum all over his friends hand like a girl. he hardly began touching him, and he was already….

“close,” buck warned, his voice breathy and embarrassed as he started to pant softly. “oh, jesus–”

“no,” bucky grunted, pulling his hand away abruptly, much to buck’s dismay. before the blonde could even complain, bucky was straddling him and staring holes into his pretty blue eyes. “wanna see you.”

buck swore his face was radiating light at this point, and bucky’s gaze wasn't helping one bit. it was so hot and intensely desirous that buck thought he was going to get eaten alive.

bucky grasped the blonde’s cock again, giving it small, rhythmic squeezes as he stared into buck’s eyes, taking in how they were welling up with tears– and how his flushed face was beading with sweat. it was so different, so absolutely wildy hot that buck, ever stoic, was falling apart below him.

buck had never had someone look at him so hotly before– not even that girl back then. it was making him nervous, but also hot and needy. the thought that his friend wanted him carnally set a fire in his stomach and his heart.

he began pumping him slowly, twisting his wrist and squeezing, all with an expertise that shocked him a little. he could still hear the buzzing of the ac and the quiet conversations of the other troops as his mouth fell open, head falling into the plush pillows behind him.

bucky’s breathing was growing heavier. he could feel the other man’s heat as he used his thumb to swipe at his leaking slit, his breath catching as buck gasped beneath him. the blonde swore he felt a certain hardness poking at his thigh, but he didn't care at all right now. he needed to cum. he needed bucky to make him cum.

“say my name.” bucky demanded, his face flushed as he began jerking buck’s cock faster. “need to hear ya say my name when you cum.”

“bucky–”

“nah. louder.” he demanded, his own breath speeding up and becoming ragged as he stroked buck faster. “scream it. yell it. make sure all our boys know.”

“fuck–” buck whimpered, his cool, stoic demeanor completely gone as he bucked his hips up into his friends fist, moaning like a cheap whore. “b-bucky!”

“that’s it. fuck– no one can make you feel like this–” he panted, speeding up his ministrations. “can they, buck? i’m the only one. don’t– ngh- ever let me catch ya with anyone else. i’ll kill ‘em.”

“bucky,” buck whimpered, his stomach clenching one final time as his orgasm washed over him, a fire like he hadn't experienced in forever. his cock shot thickly over the front of bucky’s shirt, making the other man groan and bite his lip as his friend came apart. the way bucky was straddling him, stroking him through his orgasm, the faint sounds of his friends voices through the thin wall– oh, fuck.

he dissolved into pathetic little tremors and whines as he came down, his cock bubbling weakly at the tip. bucky was panting hard, his face red and eyes hungry as he gazed at the blonde. suddenly, buck was sure that there was a hardness prodding at him.

silence.

“you–” buck panted, reaching out to grasp bucky’s erection, only to be stopped. “wha–”

“don’t worry about me.” he mumbled. “fuck, everyone’s gonna be here soon. jus’--” he stuttered, clambering off of buck awkwardly, tucking him back into his sweats. “get some sleep, buck.”

buck was too tired to try and chase after him as he scrambled away. his body felt heavy as he closed his eyes, finally succumbing to sleep.

when he awoke, he went straight to the breakfast hall. he felt like last night was some fever dream he had cooked up in his fucked up mind.

he sat at a table near the window, graciously taking the coffee he was given. only a few minutes later, the chair in front of him had been filled by his friend.

it was dead silent. then, bucky finally spoke, his voice calm and steadier than buck expected.

“sleep good last night?”

buck’s face flushed slightly, but he nodded, his eyes not leaving his plate.

“good.” bucky hummed, leaning back in his chair. “got a mission. you right and ready to fly?”

“you know it.”

“that’s my boy.” bucky smiled, and buck hated that he got butterflies in his stomach from it. “i’ll see ya in the air. don’t fall asleep in the seat, y’hear me?”

buck smiled, taking a sip from his bittersweet coffee. “don’t count on it.”

taglist: @mooodyblue @lauvmyself @kaiistheguy @slowsweetlove @lillypink

#austin!elvis x y/n #austin butler x you #austin butler x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler smut #austin butler #callum turner #callum turner x reader #mota #masters of the air #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfic

227 notes · View notes

sillyblues · 10 months

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 | 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

SYNOPSIS—*ೃ༄ you have lost three times. the first time, you lost your home. the second time, you lost yourself. the third time, you lost everything on a man who would rather lose you than lose everything.

CW—*ೃ༄ fem reader, spoilers on some mcu movies

NOTES—*ೃ༄ it's finally here HELP

masterlist

You were absolutely not normal.

You understood this at a young age when you were bitten by a spider in your backyard and gained not only your consciousness but also powers like shooting a spider web as you frantically waved your arms everywhere. As a three-year-old, you could barely handle the awareness of your surroundings and identity, much more your abilities that you could barely control. You did what any other toddler your child would do. You cried hard and loud until your parents burst through the door scrambling to get you in panic.

At three years old, you already had your first existential crisis.

When you turned five, you could confidently say that you could control your abilities now. No more random bursts of spider webs that took too long to clean up with both your fathers, no more falling in the middle of your wall and ceiling climbing and giving your fathers heart attacks, no more sudden turning of invisibility that made you and your parents cry at the thought of you never to be seen again. Just kidding, there will be more of that but hey, at least you were more in control now.

When you thought you finally understood what you were capable of, you were instantly proven wrong when a portal opened out of nowhere in your backyard again. The portal was glitching and a variety of colours were swirling so beautifully, almost luring you in and you did. Because you were five and adventures seemed fun, it was like an itch in your brain that can only be relieved if you follow your instincts as a child.

So you went in and falling into that hole was the most fun you have felt in your life and at the end of your fall, you landed on the concrete ground on top of a building. It hurt but you were used to it so it was fine. You healed pretty easily anyways so you didn’t care anyways. But what you did care about was the fact the place you were currently in was vastly different to where you were just seconds ago.

Sky-high buildings were all over the place and violets and dark skies and neon lights were decorated. It was very much unlike your bright, sunny sky and small houses on your block. At first, you thought you teleported into a different country or hell, even a different continent altogether. It wasn’t until when you swung down and walked down the streets, a man grabbed your hand and pulled you to the side.

“What’s a child like you doing here all alone?” the man with the exact features of your dad frowned, with the only difference being that he looked gruffer, sad, and more miserable.

“Dad!” you engulfed his legs in a hug.

“The hell…? I don’t have a child,” he held the collar of your shirt and pulled you away from him, “Who are you? Who sent you?”

His cold gaze sent shivers down your spine and his oppressing voice scared you. This was not your dad. Your dad was someone who could barely say any insult, much less cuss and would even hit your father if he so much mumble the word “hell”.

This was not your dad. This was not your universe.

With a cry, a portal opened behind you and you pushed the man hard until he stumbled. You heard him exclaim in pain and shock at how a small child like you overpower an adult like him even for just a moment and you felt so guilty for hurting him. Even though he wasn’t your dad, you felt so bad for hurting him and you wanted to rush into him and hug him and cry onto his chest and apologize—but you can’t. Because he wasn’t your father. So you ran into the portal ignoring his yells.

You thought that you would come home. That you would see your dad and father waiting for you with open arms or at least, scold you where had you been and stop making them worry. You hoped. You believed. But reality proved you wrong once more as you entered not your universe but another one where everything feels like texturized. Colours were changing and it did not seem like it blended and lines were there.

This was not your universe.

At five years old, you lost your universe and had no way back home.

By thirteen years old, you slowly started to forget your home. You jumped to one universe and another to find answers of why you could barely find your universe. You did everything to even just find a clue. Loneliness and jealousy accompanied you as you watched children so happy with their families. Fear and anxiety greeted you when you found out there were no other versions of you. Betrayal walked side by side with you with so many greedy hands wanting to take your multiverse traveling power for their wants (you could never forget the way one Sorcerer Supremem wanted to absorb your soul just so he could be in an alternate universe where he was happy). Despair seeped into your every pore you when you finally pieced enough clues to find a definitive answer.

You were not supposed to live.

At thirteen years old, you lost all hope and ultimately, yourself.

When you were eighteen years old, you had begun to accept your reality and even settled on one universe where you lived and studied thanks to some of the friends you made. You even made some Spiderpeople friends in other universes and thanks to that, you officially became one as well even if you mostly do is help them from the sidelines (you either confuse villains with two Spiders or call the police). Sometimes if the situation calls for it, you had to be a villain just so you could help save humanity in other worlds but maybe that was just a part of what makes you a Spider.

At eighteen years old, you were beginning to live.

When you turned 21, you started to encounter beings who tested the limits of the multiverse and almost succeeded. Peter Parker, another Spiderman and a friend of yours, decided to cast a spell that cost him the memories of his world. You met America Chavez, a girl who was just like you, hunted for your abilities to travel between the multiverse and the Witch who lost herself because all she wanted was just to be happy.

By then, you met a lot of people, different people from different universes despite having the same identity (except for America because just like you, there was no other version of her).

But you have never met someone, the same person, in different worlds despite having alternate versions of himself.

tag-list: @belos-simp69 @memospacexx @etherealton @lexingtoon @speaker15 @loonalockley @fandoms-run-my-life @gg-trini @julesandro @manchuria @wonderahgase @nyxhatesme @yumeneji @bookish-bimbo @lordmypantsaresocool @@tortilla-chips-and-allioli @johanseongs @nuhteyam @toji-whore

#blue writes! ✧˖*°࿐#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader

1K notes · View notes

fanfics4all · 7 months

Text

Hate Sex

Request: Yes / No Day 3 of Kinktober!

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Barry Allen x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1131

Warnings: SMUT!

Y/N: Your Name

Prompt(s): Hate Sex

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK!

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you!

Masterlist

If you enjoy my work, you could also show support by buying me a coffee!

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

*Barry’s POV*

Y/N and I were walking through the door and I slammed it behind me. She was walking to our room, but I grabbed her wrist to stop her. I spun her to face me and she was glaring at me.

“Let. Go. Of. Me.” She growled through grit teeth.

“No, now lose the fucking attitude! The mission didn’t go as planned because you didn’t listen!” I growled back. Her glare deepened and tried to free herself.

“It’s wasn’t my fucking fault! They were going to hurt you!” She shouted. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“I have fucking super speed, Y/N! I would have gotten out of the way!” I shouted back.

“I don’t care! I wasn’t gonna just let you get hurt! We’ll get them next time.” She scoffed. I tightened my grip on her wrist a bit and growled.

“Get on your knees.” I bit out. She didn’t move and I pulled her slightly closer.

“Now.” I hissed. I let go of her and snuck to her knees. I pushed her forward and she was presenting her ass to me. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes filling with hot curiosity. I quickly used my speed to undress the both of us and her eyes widened a bit. Her nipples pebbled as the cold hit them.

“This is what you want?” She asked with a slight smirk.

“No. I want your face against the floor, your tits kissing the carpet.” I said with a smirk of my own. Her eyes widened slightly, but did as she was told. She slowly slid her palms across the carpet, extending the length of her back. Her cheek deliberately came to a slow rest on the floor, her nipples ever so slightly brushing the carpet. Her ass tilted upward, opening the view to her pussy in front of me. I kneeled behind her, reaching out to slide a finger into her dripping pussy. Then two… then three… I fucked her like that for just a few moment then removed my fingers to wrap them around my cock, rubbing her wetness on myself. I brought my fingers to my mouth to taste her. My cock was now slick with her juices and slid smoothly inside her. I went slow and shallow at first. I fed her just the tip, teasing her opening. She pushed her body back towards me, trying to push me deeper inside her. I pulled back, keeping her pussy from swallowing much more that two inches. I smacked her ass to remind her who was in charge. She sighed in frustration. I smacked her other cheek and she once again tried to grind back onto me. I smacked her twice more a little harder, reddening her full ass.

I slowly pulled out of her, resting just the tip of my cock head in her pussy. The effect kept her lips parted enough to maintain easy access. Then suddenly and with a force intended to shock her, in one powerful fluid motion I filled her. Something between a shirek and a moan was forced from her. Instinctively she pushed her ass back against my cock.

“That’s a good girl.” I whispered while looking down at my dick deep inside her. I made every effort possible to shove my cock as deep inside her as I could. I reached down to her hips and gripped them tightly. I pulled her up and down onto me harder. I arched my back towards her trying to force myself deeper and deeper. I held my cock there for a moment and started to vibrate it. It wasn’t enough to get her off, just enough to make her crazy. I held her like this, pulling on her hips and aggressively ground myself against her, keeping my cock deep within her. She matched my movements and ground back into me.

“You like my big cock deep inside you?” I asked.

“Yes…” She moaned.

“You like getting fucked like this, don’t you?” I asked.

“Yes…” She moaned again.

“I’m going to use your pussy to get myself off.” I said and she moaned louder.

“Fuck yes! Use me!” Her voice more breathy as she withered in anticipation. She was submitting to me.

“I’m going to fuck you hard.” I said.

“Yes… yes! Give it to me! Pound me!” She begged. I adjusted my grip on her hips, positioning my knees to get the maximum leverage. She reached back and started rubbing her clit. With each wave of pleasure I brought her I could see her tight little asshole pucker and her pussy clenched down on my cock. She was enjoying herself.

I never loosened my grip on her hips, bracing her with my strength as I slammed my full weight into her. Over and over again, I tried to fuck her as intensely as possible. I wanted her to pull away until she couldn’t bear the pain anymore. I started using my super speed to fuck her faster. My balls swung and slammed against her clit, hitting her hand which was still rubbing herself. Her free hand was smacking against the floor, half because she needed to brace herself, half because her increasing pleasure made her do so. Harder and harder, I kept fucking her. So hard in fact , I made her lose her balance and her stomach fell against the floor. I still didn’t led up. I climbed onto of her, straddling her ass and pressed my cock back into her gaping pussy. I grabbed her ass cheeks and began fucking her again. I spread her ass open so I could clearly see my dick thrusting into her pussy.

“Fuck!” She shouted.

“I’m gonan cum!” She cried out in pleasurable pain. She came with an intense orgasm and I never stopped. I fucked her right through her orgasm. However, hearing her cum brought me closer to my own orgasm. I couldn’t help myself and came right inside her. I pulled out of her and collapsed onto the floor next to her.

“That was amazing…” She whispered, her eyelids hardly open. I pulled her into my arms and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you…” She said as her eyes slowly closed.

“I just don’t want you hurt and I don’t want these criminals out on the streets when we could have caught them…” I sighed and she nodded.

“I don’t want you hurt either.” She said quietly and I lifted her head up to kiss her plump lips.

“I won’t, just stick to the plan next time, okay?” I asked and she nodded, snuggling back into my chest. We were both clearly tired, but I found the energy to speed us into our bedroom so we could comfortably sleep.

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs-blog1 @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-tea @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches28 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @lady-of-lies @ravenmoore14 @ravenempress101 @cillianchamp @rowanthomasknapp @rachelxwayne @ready-4-fanfiction @bruisedfists-and-splitlips @flashettewriten @liz-owl

#fanfic #prompt #halloween #the flash #the flash imagine #barry allen imagines #barry allen smut #barry allen #barry allen x reader #barry x reader #barry x fem!reader #barry allen x sister!reader #barry allen x fem!reader #hate sex #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #day 3 #kinktober day 3

265 notes · View notes

selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 10 months

Note

What kind of interaction would the reader have with the Decay of Angels. (Mainly Fyodor Dostoevsky, and Sigma ,Nikolai Gogol) how would they treat the reader?

(my poor baby need some Love Sigma <3)

Here you go. As I said before, all characters will get their own entries later. Same with Decay of Angels. Until then, I can share this headcannons with you.

On the side note. A little update on main entries progress. Self-Aware Dazai Osamu entry is in progress. The first third (Becoming self-aware) is almost finished.

Self-Aware! Decay of Angels x GN! Reader

Headcannons

Warning: OOC. Yandere. Stalking. Mentions of world domination. Mentions of killing. English is my second language.

General

🐾 Group, that take longest to join the others.

🐾 Not because of you or their feelings towards you. Because of how slowly they were introduced in the manga.

🐾 Their plan has failed. What they should do next? How it should be connected to you?

Bram Stoker

🧛 At first, he doesn't care, that he is fictional. It's not like he is walking around. Besides, right now he has no one, he can consider his friends.

🧛 But it changes, thanks to Aya. The girl is mesmerized by you and your world, and, after being appointed as Bram's 'guardian', she tried to show Bram, how wonderful your world is.

🧛 Slowly, Bram warm towards you. You don't seem bad. Besides, your emotions feel nice. Also, there is so much interesting in your world.

🧛 Like to watch videos with you and Aya. Sometimes, two of them watch something on their own.

🧛 Will try to find a way to get his body back and control his ability again. Because this ability will help you. He will give you an army of vampires, ready to serve you.

🧛 You are normal human. You are an interesting human. You treat someone like him is human. He will help to bring the human world to their knees for you.

Sigma

🃏 At first, Sigma is on the cross road. It's not like he is entirely human, so knowing that he is fictional, doesn't hit him as hard as the other characters. Bit, still, it hurts, to know, that he was created for someone else's entertainment. And the voice of Guiding Light. They were praising him. Lowing him. Did you try to trick him? Was it the same situation, as with Dostoevsky, three years ago?

🃏 No. It was different. You aren't fake. You were real. Not only that, but you liked him for simply existing. You liked him as he is. No need to use his ability or do something for you.

🃏 Sigma would observe your messages. To make sure, that people won't try to scam you.

🃏 One time, on The Internet, you were discussing with other people what would you do, if you had a chance to see Sigma in real life. Sigma was disgusted by some responses. But then, he heard you.

"I would give him a cookie and ask for a hug".

Congrats, Sigma is now as red as a tomato.

🃏 Sigma will memorize everything about you. He doesn't want to lose you. Near you, he has a scene of purpose.

🃏 His purpose - be in your life. To make you feel happy.

____________

Sigma grumbles under his breath, looking another scam message from your mailbox.

The same person has been trying to scam you for a while.

Sigma send the scam letter to Fyodor. He will help to deal with thief.

Parasite, that want to hurt you. Who wants to steal from you. He deserved to be punished.

Sigma looked at the Little Light, floating above him. One day, he will see the true you. One day, he will bask in your emotions. And he will give you a hug you want so much.

Nikolai Gogol

Fyodor Dostoevsky

🤡 Let's just say, after some time of internal conflict, reassuring words and conversations with other characters, Gogol will see you as the embodiment of freedom. A real person, who doesn't need to follow the plot and can do anything they want.

🤡 Gogol is one of the characters who became obsessed with you. He believes, that he will become free, if he stays near you.

🤡 Your influence broke the plot chains. Your influence make him realize, that he is fictional. Nikolai is grateful. He will do anything for you.

🤡 Like to watch videos with Circus performances with you. If you liked some magic tricks, will learn, how to do it.

🤡 He is perfectly sane, and knew, that killing is bad. But, for your sake, he will kill.

🤡 You are Their Guiding Light. You are his bird. He will fight for your freedom. For his freedom. For freedom of other BSD characters.

____________

Nikolai Gogol was angry. He heard from Sigma, that someone tried to steal from his Birdy. He wished he can drag the thief there. To make his last moments the real Hell.

Gogol wished, that you were there. His Birdy is so weak. They don't have ability. Everyone can take their freedom away.

Gogol looked at Little Light, circling around his hands. The proof of your existence. The proof of your emotions. Untouchable...

But don't worry. They are near. Soon he will be near you. Soon no one will dare to take away your freedom.

Fukuchi Ouchi

🐀 Became self-aware earlier, than other DOA members.

🐀 At first, he was simply curious about your world. Then, he became curious about you. Then, he became obsessed with you.

🐀 You don't have an ability. You live in the world with no abilities. His perfect world. You are perfect in his eyes.

🐀 Fyodor Dostoevsky is one of the hackers, who hacked BSD Mayoi Inu Kaikitan app. One of the creators of the portal.

🐀 Watch whatever you are watching. He just wants to spend time with you.

🐀 Perfection must be saved. And Dostoevsky will save you. He spent enough time to start trusting other characters. But he also won't stand back. He will protect you.

___________

Fyodor Dostoevsky smirked. Nikolai Gogol and Sigma were standing near him.

Fyodor has found the scammer. Found him and post all his personal information for everyone to see.

And put a special virus on their phone. The one, that will connect his phone to the portal. The scammer will be the perfect lab rat for a testing.

Bright light.

Scammer was laying there. Bleeding, but alive. Fyodor Dostoevsky smirked. The next second, Gogol's hand grasp scammer's head.

Little Light were floating above them, as always. And his Perfect Guiding Light will stay perfect and safe.

The next day, BSD gang find the body of a scammer. Fyodor, Nikolai and Sigma didn't hide, that it was their doing. That they have tested the portal and protected Their Guiding Light.

"Aren't you afraid, that 'Kamui' will be angry at you doing things without an order?" mocks Dazai, looking at Fukuchi.

Sigma was first.

"I was working for Kamui for three years. Never heard anything good from him. And Guiding Light were nice to me. They are more deserving of my loyalty."

Then Gogol.

"He promised me freedom. He lied. But Guiding Light is there. They are my freedom. They are more deserving of my loyalty."

And then, Dostoevsky.

"Kamui promised the world without sin. He failed. But Perfect Guiding Light already live in sinless world. They are more deserving of my loyalty."

Fukuchi Ouchi knew, that he has lost to you.

#self-awareau #self-awarebsd #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungou stray dogs #gender neutral reader #bsd anime #yandere #decay of angels #Self-Aware Decay of Angels

405 notes · View notes

llamagoddessofficial · 5 months

Note

how would the normal boyo's react to mc's death?

no murder, nothing crazy, just old age taking away the love of their lives.

and for bonus points lets say they had been happily married for decades as to add on the memories and the sudden shock of losing someone that had become such a key factor in your life.

I think I've mentioned this before, but it doesn't hurt to bring it up again. Aggre Mc is going to live a lot longer than she expected. Even with absolutely no intervention, thanks to her connection with the guys, her Soul has three major sources of magic nearby that instinctively constantly share their power with hers. It will probably expand her lifetime by a century, minimum. Her big issue isn't going to be dying; it's going to be dealing with the implications of living so much longer than she thought she would.

There's also the topic of a Soul bond. If she Soul bonds with any of the three of them, and doesn't have kids, she's pretty much going to live as a monster does (forever, unless interrupted). In Aggre, they definitely discuss the subject of her possible death eventually- and my personal canon post-Aggre is that after settling into a rhythm and spending a few decades together, when Mc decides she wants to Soul bond, the boys elect Sans to be the one she bonds with. She'd then live with them like that.

But... in a hypothetical scenario, where Mc resists everything and dies... I think this is how it would go. Obviously, angst and death under the cut.

Sans: Honestly, Sans takes her approaching death the best. Which should really worry you about how the other two would react. Does he fall apart? Absolutely, the last time he felt this kind of agony was when he lost his mother. But Sans has always been good at disguising his emotions, hiding tremendous pain under an easygoing exterior. He keeps up with the dishes, organises her end of life care, keeps contact with his friends. Papyrus would be the only one to see even a fraction of the true extent of Sans' grief. Sans is about to lose the love of his life, and has completely frozen over to avoid crumbling.

Red: He definitely takes it better than you'd expect, considering he'd have a mended relationship with his brother. But it still hits. It's cruel that the universe sent him someone who taught him how to let himself feel, then took that person away and delivered the worst pain he's ever felt.

Mc would be proud of him, though. Despite the pain, he avoids falling back into the worst of his old addictions, because he knows its not what she would want and it won't actually make the pain go away. It will just numb him to everything; including those who are trying to help. He picks up smoking again in the days leading up to her death, but he avoids the bottle.

Skull: It's hard, for him. It's really hard.

All of them knew it would be particularly difficult for Skull. They had a long time to discuss it- a long time to talk the subject over. Mc prepared stuff for him, for after she's gone... people to talk to, things of hers to hold when it hurts, exercises for him to hopefully learn to deal with it. For a while, everyone was convinced Skull was ready. Even Skull.

... But he just... he just can't do it. He can't do it. He can't let her go. It doesn't matter how many hours she spent holding his hands, how hard they all believed he'd be fine without her- it doesn't matter how much he healed by her side and how well adjusted he seems now. The moment he realises she's really genuinely dying, the journey ahead of him looks so impossibly dark, so frightening. He holds her as she's dying and he feels so small. He cries like a baby and begs her not to leave him behind.

The moment she dies, he catches her Soul. He holds it in his hands, hushing it like a scared bird and tucking it away into his chest, where he can keep her alive. Honestly, they'd have to cut him open if they wanted to let her pass on.

... But I think at that point, Red and Sans aren't exactly fighting to make him let go. In fact... something unspoken passes between the three of them. Skull just did what all of them wanted to do.

Skull gives her to Sans, who keeps her hidden away, within his own Soul. Her Soul knows his best, and will feel most comfortable there long-term.

They'll figure out something. They have all the time in the world.

#llamagines

300 notes · View notes

miintsprigz · 5 months

Text

Trying something new…

TF2 mercs with a reader experiencing a panic attack. Gender neutral.

This has Engie, Medic, and Scout, cuz I love those three especially. Not sure if I can do requests, but I could try.

Notes: I’ve never had the pleasure of actually playing the game because my technology is very limited (one day…), but I love the characters. If my writing for the mechanics is wack, that’s why.

I also know it would be hard to have a panic disorder and be a mercenary, but I feel like it could still happen sometimes. They’re still human.

Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks and other mental health ailments that may be associated with them, including dissociation, hyperventilation, insomnia, and hallucinations.

Engineer:

-You had been forced into a corner. Inching closer and closer to respawn by the second.

-How many more hits could you take? You weren’t sure. But you didn’t want to go through that again…it had happened so many times…maybe you truly were losing your touch.

-The breath hitched in your throat, and tears threatened to spill down your face. Please…please just leave me alone…!

-A voice crooned from just behind him. The sadistic grin was wiped off your attacker’s face as he received a bright bolt of light to the back of his head, slumping over with a thud.

- “That’s just about enough a’ that, son.” Engineer, with the Short Circuit still smoking, looked down at you. “Ah…” Even with his eyes covered by his goggles, you could see the pleased smirk drop immediately as he retracted the weapon.

-Maybe it was the visible concern, maybe it was the fact that you didn’t have to be in fight or flight anymore, but the dam broke. You couldn’t breathe, every attempt at getting air came out in sharp gasps, audibly sobbing.

-“C’mere, darlin’…how bad did he getcha… Whoa—”

-You clamped your arms around him when he went to help you up, holding for dear life as your face quickly became slick with tears. “T-too close…I, I almost…oh my gosh…”

-Engie went rigid for a moment, clearly not expecting the sudden grasp, not knowing what to do.

-Machines, those he knew how to fix. But to find one of his closest teammates broken down crying in his arms, shaking like a leaf… how could he fix that? Could he…? Surely, surely he could. He would. That was his job!

-Slowly, warmly, two strong arms wrapped around you, stroking your shoulder with his thumb.

-“Now, now, honey…don’t you cry, I got ‘em for ya. And if anyone lays another finger on ya, they’re gettin’ a wrench to the dome, hear me?” You nodded quick, curling your head into his shoulder.

-“Let’s get you outta here, we’ll find the doc together, patch you up. Up ya go…”

-Assuming you didn’t start walking by yourself, he did his best to smoothly transfer you out of the embrace and into a close carry.

-You still struggled to catch your breath, and as he picked his pace up, you rested your head against his chest.

-Feeling his voice reverberate, you heard him humming the song he’d been softly singing the other night. The same one you had fallen asleep to. Trying to soothe you, in his own sort of way.

Medic

-Burning. Burning all over. That’s all you remember. You’d dropped your guard…there was just a Pyro and a Scout left, and you’d ended up completely burned.

-As you were brought back, you found that you couldn’t stand.

-Medic hurried up to you as you dropped to your knees, MediGun in hand. “Ah, wunderbar (wonderful)! I have saved a charge just for you, let’s go finish—oh. (Y/N), was ist los (what’s the matter)???”

-You grasped at your arms, your legs, you swore you could still feel the flames licking at you. Your breathing sped up, feeling your heart pounding in your ears.

-Medic may have had his license revoked, but he still knew exactly what this was.

-As you tried to get up and listen to what he had been telling you to do, he immediately stood in front of you. “Nein, I cannot in good conscience let you go back out right now. Bitte (please), (Y/N), sit down.”

-Plunking yourself right back down on the floor, you fought hard against the tightness that was forming in your throat. “That…that freaking sucked…”

-“I know that it did.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him moving to put an arm around your shoulder, giving you a moment to back away if you needed to.

-He seemed surprised when you instead leaned against him, trying your best to keep yourself together.

-“Oh! …ah, Liebe, that is not one you recover from quickly. Sit still…it’s okay.”

-The doctor reached over and softly ruffled your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle. A few tears escaped your eyes, but you were beginning to catch your breath again.

-“I know I was a bit strict, but…sending you out like this could easily get you killed again…and we do not want that.”

-Medic stared daggers towards the direction of the scent of smoke. How dare they set you ablaze. He’d make sure to take them out in pieces…

-The thought of bloodshed nearly drove him to his feet, almost hungry for it, but as he looked at you, he dropped his shoulders. We can get revenge later. They need me right now.

-“Liebe, listen. Don’t work so hard, alright? It’s no good for your heart… There will be hell to pay for that…for now though...stay here. And I’ll stay too, if it helps. I just healed everyone, I think they’ll be good.”

-You glanced up at him. “Are you comfortable like this?” He rolled his eyes wearily, but chuckled.

-“Me? I’m just fine.”

Scout

-The enemy Spy had been absolutely unrelenting for the last few days. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere at all.

-You were so anxious about going back to that the next day that it was even beginning to mess with your sleep. You swear you saw shadows moving, eyes in the dark…the lack of sleep only made it worse.

-Every encounter with that menace ran through your mind, playing on repeat as you stared at the ceiling. Finally, you decided to give up on sleep and go back downstairs.

-Upon seeing a shadow standing in the darkness, you couldn’t help but stumble backwards with a gasp, fumbling for a weapon that wasn’t anywhere near you.

-“Whoa! Hey pal, whatcha doin’ up right now?”

-The voice was clearly that of the Scout…or maybe that was what he wanted you to think.

-Unable to catch your breath, you ended up with your back to a wall, hands up in front of you in a panic. You saw Scout through your fingers—and quickly-accumulating tears at the corners of your vision. He looked…worried. Extremely so.

-Scout was confused, not atypical for him. But why were they so afraid? He hadn’t been too loud, had he? “…(Y/N)…it’s me, Scout. Jeremy. Ya…ya don’t gotta be scared. I’m sorry…didn’t mean ta scare ya.”

-Your hands visibly shook as you looked at him, desperately searching for some sign that could tell you if this was real or fake. “…you’re the real one…?”

-Oh. They were scared about the Spy…that scared? He’d noticed they’d been acting way different.

-“It’s the real me, (Y/N). Ain’t no freakin’ Spy gettin’ in here with me around. I’d never lie to ya, so please…”

-Somehow this did the trick. You fell apart, crying into your hands, which were cold and clammy at this point, ashamed of your own fear. “I’m sorry! …I’m sorry…”

-“Hey…it’s okay, I gotcha…” Scout knelt down in front of them, holding his empty hands out. Maybe if they see I’m not armed, it’ll help?

-You felt a gentle tap on your knee. Pulling one hand back, you found Scout holding his own out to you. “C’mere a sec.”

-Taking his hand, his fingers carefully intertwined with yours. You could feel the roughness around his palm from the constant grip on his bat.

-His eyes were bright, even in the dark. “That Spy? He’s a wuss, ya hear me? All talk. And next time we go up against him, we’re gonna send him back to his base pissin’ himself and cryin’ for his ma, cuz nobody messes with us, right?”

-You couldn’t help but crack a smile as he tried to rally you, in the carefree cocky way he always did. “Y-yeah…that’s right.”

-“You know it! We’ll win, we always do! And if he gets anywhere near you, I’ll whack his friggin’ lights out, so don’t you worry, doll! Not out there…and not here.”

-With this, he pulled you in by the hand and wrapped his arms around you, giving you a firm pat on the back. “You know I’d never let anybody hurt ya, right?”

-“Y-yeah…thank you. Sorry I got so scared.”

“Don’t gotta apologize for nothin’. He’s a creep, I don’t blame ya. But that’s all he is.”

-Your eyelids were now growing heavy, and a quiet yawn interrupted the conversation.

-“Sleep, (Y/N). I’m right here. Ain’t nothin’ gonna touch ya with me here.”

#tf2 #team fortress #team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 x reader #engineer x reader #medic x reader #scout x reader #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 scout #tf2 x reader #mint writes

215 notes · View notes

smytherines · 1 month

Text

Fuck it, here's an Agent Mega dissertation

Alright since I have such elaborate headcanon for my beloved precious Owen Carvour, I guess I should do it for Agent Curt Mega too. Sigh.

So, going off of the last big one, if Owen is born in 1928, then I'm gonna say Curt was born in 1930. I'm forever won to the Texan agent mega headcanon, but I think it's safe to say that Mrs. Mega is not from Texas, probably more like New York or I've seen people say New Jersey.

We know nothing about Agent Mega's dad, but I imagine he was kind of a loser and low level con artist and moved his pregnant wife down to Texas to do scams around the bustling oil industry, and then soon after Curt was born a scam collapsed and he ran off. It's either that or an Aladdin 3 situation where he was secretly a spy the whole time and had to go into hiding.

So we've got mama Mega, raising a VERY hyperactive (read: ADHD) little boy on her own, in a place where she doesn't have any support, and he just becomes her entire world. But she has to work a lot, so Curt becomes used to taking care of himself, and most importantly- keeping himself busy so he doesn't lose it.

In this headcanon Curt would only be 15 when WWII ends- not old enough to fight, but definitely old enough to have personally known a lot of kids from his hometown who come home in caskets. I just truly think of WWII as a formative experience for both these guys. For Curt it just feeds into that inferiority complex.

Now anybody who has ADHD knows that you already spend a lot of your life feeling inadequate, feeling self-conscious about not being able to be the person other people want you to be (*especially* if you're queer). You get defensive, especially when criticized. You also get restless.

I headcanon Curt as growing up in Abilene, Texas, mostly because I have a friend who grew up there and I've visited and the vibe is right.

I don't know if anybody has ever seen The Last Picture Show, but its a film set in small town Texas in 1951-1952 (so a little late for our timeline but still) and it's (more or less) about two high school seniors essentially trying to escape this suffocatingly small, dying town before they become doomed to spend their lives trapped there.

That's definitely what I think about Agent Mega too- this gay, ADHD teenage boy climbing the walls of this little town, never being able to fully be himself. But he's got a lot of energy (and more than a little anger) to burn off, so he does sports. It's Texas, so football for sure. Maybe wrestling too. Perhaps wrestling is even where he has his gay come to jesus moment.

And when he isn't doing sports, he's home, alone (mama Mega is working so hard), out back drinking a beer (or two, or three) and teaching himself how to shoot. I think he becomes hyperfixated on becoming an expert marksman, because with all of this shit he cannot control, all the stuff he is supposed to be but isn't, this is one area where it feels like he has the power here.

What starts off as "kid drinking beer to feel cool and rebellious" starts to morph into a lifetime dependence on alcohol. Substance use is a big issue for a lot of ADHDers for the same reason I think it would be for Curt- it calms him down. It eases that constant restlessness in his bones. It softens the edges of other people's criticisms of him. It makes him care a bit less what others think about him.

In a vicious cycle, he drinks to avoid feeling those big feelings (especially as a man, especially as a gay man, especially as a gay man in Texas), but the drinking leads to more criticism, which leads to more drinking to numb the emotional response to that criticism.

But his hyperfixation on learning to shoot pays off. Let's say he becomes a junior state champion trapshooter (did I look up trapshooting competitions from the 1940s? yes I did). He's good, especially when he hits the sweet spot of drinking just enough to calm his ass down but not so much that he's useless. Maybe this is how he comes to the attention of the A.S.S.

And he fully believes that these skills he cultivated, the ability to hit hard and run fast and shoot accurately, his ability to escape when it doesn't feel remotely possible, is why many years later he just kinda rolls his eyes at Owen for insisting that they do things carefully and methodically. Careful didn't get him out of small town Texas. Careful didn't get him the exciting non-stop life he has now, a life where he *almost* gets to be himself a lot of the time.

When Owen "dies," and its Curt's fault, he naturally turns to drinking to numb that pain. But its a lot of pain, so it takes a lot of alcohol to kill it.

I'm sure I could go on, but as always I have rambled a lot here so I'm just gonna leave it.

#spies are forever #agent curt mega #saf headcanon #SAFtistic

83 notes · View notes

kxxkiecxre · 4 months

Text

・❥・WICKED GAMES || Jeon Jungkook ・❥・

PAIRING: Jungkook x reader

SUMMARY: how does one mend two broken hearts?

SERIES: like a moth to a flame.

WARNINGS: arguing(bear with me please 😔), miscommunication, talks of illness(cancer not for reader or Jungkook), constant bickering, cold Jungkook, mean Jungkook, reader is also in the wrong:/, drinking, unprotected sex(you’re not that stupid please wrap it), oral (f receiving), cream pie :), nothing was actually figured out.

As always enjoy!!

Previously… Next…

It pained you to see the clear hurt on his face. It made your heart shed rays like a sun during a solar storm and it burned so bad. The sheer velocity of pain was making you feel like you’d die any second. It was his glass stained eyes that truly had you gulping down the knots in your throat. You understand, you haven’t been exactly fair when you left both of them. Without as much as sparing another word for two months after you’ve disappeared.

He leaned against the kitchen island, palms embedded into the edges as he scoffed and smirked in pure anger, head falling between the space of his arms. He swayed back into an upright posture, biting on his bottom lip. The little dimples that you adore visible In his cheeks.

“I’m having trouble looking at you,” he finally mumbled, “every time I do, you seem to kill me all over again.”

Your brows furrowed, “Jungkook I’m so sorry”

He shook his head, looking around the apartment, “don’t be,” he wasn’t even sure if you apologising is what he wanted. After all, both of you seemed to hurt one another every time one of you got too close. It seemed almost like you were in magnetic field and you and Jungkook were positive and negative, something that just cannot be in a field of neutrality.

“I don’t need an apology,” it wasn’t like he was trying to shame you, or punish you, more like he was trying to be clear, “I need you to look me in the eyes, and tell me truly and honestly, between those moments where it was just us and the night, did you love me?”

Your lips parted, a sigh leaving your mouth and you take a few seconds to reply, “yes.”

He nodded, swaying back and further, chuckling to himself before his eyes landed back on you, “I find that difficult to believe.”

Your heart sunk, hitting the pit of your stomach with so much force it made you feel nauseous.

“Because if you did love me, you wouldn’t have left me like that. You wouldn’t have left everything we’ve worked for and sacrificed, because of one hiccup. I get it, she was mad, after all, she’s Yeji, and Yeji is more than understanding. If we’ve given her space and time she would have come around-“

“Kook,” you shook your head, begging to keep the tears from falling, “I didn’t want to force this onto anything or anyone, it was pointless to push this onto her if we would lose all her trust, which in the process of our own selfishness we have betrayed her, already losing it. However, if I have left without picking sides, at least then, both of you could have worked it out and perhaps you could regain at least an inkling of her trust back. You know that once you lose her it’s very hard to get her back. I just didn’t want to hurt both of you like that”

He sighed closing his eyes, “what about us? Do we not get a happy ending? Do we not get a choice?”

Somehow this night reminded you of months ago when you committed the first of your betrayal on this very counter between you two. You didn’t want to relive this pain, but every word that you share between your conversation it seems like the knife gets dug further and further, pressing your heart, threatening to rip it right out of your chest and throw it out the window.

If you had stayed and chosen sides, it would have broken a bond between one of them and yourself. At the end of the day, all three of you would have ended up hurt and split. Between choosing platonic soulmates and romantic ones, somehow you have forgotten about yourself. That day before the argument happened. It seemed like the best day ever, and all of a sudden everything had burst into flames. You didn’t want to go through that again, better yet, put both of them through that again.

Somehow both you and Jungkook continue being selfish. Standing in the kitchen discussing what ifs about the relationship that you’re not even sure stood a chance, meanwhile your best friend and his sister is in the room down the hall sleeping, fighting a disease you didn’t even know she had. You were a shit best friend, that much you knew.

“Jungkook, she’s in the other room -“

“Y/N,” he spoke, his voice dropping an octave, “do we not get a chance? Is this what we’re destined for hm? Fuck it kills me not to have you in my arms when you’re within my reach”

“I don’t know what to tell you! Okay? What am I supposed to do? Tear myself in half and keep both of you happy? What about me Jungkook? What about me?”

It was quite yet again, he leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers against the bottom drawers while you held the cup of tea between your hands, looking at the orange colored liquid inside the glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“I love you,” he muttered, “it might be selfish of me, but I didn’t want to fall in love with you. I didn’t want to dream of you every night, to feel like this for the first time. With you.”

Your heart squeezed, trashed around in your chest to escape the hell it was going through, “I didn’t mean to either.”

You looked into his eyes, both of on the verge of crying, “I love you too, unfortunately.”

Her face was pale. The hollows below her cheekbones prominent as she sat on your navy couch, she brushed her frail hands across the fluffy pillow smiling to herself. Her hair was thinning, but it still managed to frame her face beautifully. When her eyes met yours, you could see the happiness and love within them. It made you feel warm inside, it had you smiling within seconds. That’s exactly how yeji works, she’s the sun and we’re all just orbiting her.

“Do you remember when we were 16?”

Your brows furrowed, “when exactly”

“Jackson’s 18th”

“Yeah”

“Do you remember when we promised to always be happy for the other person, even if we disagree?”

Your expression immediately fell. You were so tired, so tired of constantly being reminded of this aching grief within you. Even though nobody has died, you were grieving of what could have been of you and Jungkook, “yeji, let’s not talk about that.”

“No. Let’s.”

“Why?”

“When did you realise you fell in love with Jungkook?”

You looked down to your hands in your laps, playing with the loose string of your silk pyjamas, “when we had that big argument? I realised I didn’t have a crush on him, I was madly in love with him. That night when we made up, it really confirmed it for me.”

She smiled, “I think,” she clears her throat, “I was being selfish… I stood between love, and no one should ever do that. You would never do that to me. At the time when you told me, all I could think about was losing my best friend if something happened between you two, what I failed to realise is, that we are more than best friends. No one can ever come between us, and also, in the process, I could even gain myself the best sister in law ever”.

It wasn’t necessarily that she accepted Jungkook and you, that brought you to tears, it was the fact she set aside her own self to let you guys be happy. That is what breaks you, because Yeji is too good of a person for anyone. No one in this world will ever deserve her. She’s far too good for this impure world, for this universe that will only break your heart. yeji deserves everything good and best in this whole galaxy. No one will ever compare to her.

“I love you so much yeji”.

“I love you too, go get your mans girl.”

“He can wait” both of you laughed, and everything seemed right again.

Still as you caught up with Yeji, you worried on how you’d reconnect and mend things with Jungkook. Surely, he’s tired of all the arguments and the little things that’d come between you and now it all has you thinking. Thinking too much. Because you’re afraid and the more that you go over things, the more you realise that perhaps you’re not good for each other? Maybe you’re too toxic for one another.

All things aside you still love him more than you could ever love yourself. He’s the only person that could ever make you feel like all the stars exploded within your body and it was all just fireworks going off inside your chest. No one ever made you this happy, this overwhelmingly positive and no one’s ever made you feel as beautiful as he would every time he’d touch your body, every crevice his lips would kiss would ignite confidence and love in their wake.

Maybe that is why your heart still calls for him. Because you’d rather give him your heart, whether it was shattered into pieces and glued together and the last drop of your blood then live without him. So even if he was cold, even if he rejected you, you’d do nothing more than love every inch of him and devote your soul and body to him. Because no one’s ever had you this foolish within the desire for another’s heart and body like he does.

No one ever, loves the way Jungkook loves.

By the time things started to become normal, Yeji was finally fully cancer free and steadily recovering. Her cheeks started to become fuller, her skin regaining that healthy glow and her hair was growing and becoming bouncy just like before. In moments, you finally felt some sense of normality, like nothing ever happened. Until it came to talking to Jungkook.

Every time you’d direct your focus on him and speak to him, wether to have a conversation or to ask him a question, he’d either out right ignore you or be extremely short and cold with his answers, distant.

He’s become overwhelmingly distant. It was killing you inside, but at the same time you didn’t have the guts to confront him. Your guilty conscience was holding you back, reminding you that this wasn’t his fault. That he has every right to be upset with you and never talk to you again. It hurt, but you leaving him so easily must’ve hurt him even more. Because you know that if he did that to you, you’d be in shambles.

You tried your hardest to be happy, at the end of the day you’re in Aspen. There’s snow almost every minute of the day, everything is a white blanket of snow and Christmas lights illuminated the streets, glowing in different colours. It was like pure joy and ecstasy throw up within it.

The girls decided to go out for drinks to some club close to the cabin you were staying in, leaving the guys behind. Minho, Jackson, Lukas and Jungkook decided to stay back, start a fire in the chimney and drink beer watching some type of basketball you couldn’t really care about.

Slipping into the champagne rose coloured dress you sighed. It’s a shame nobody is taking this dress off you, because fuck was it beautiful. The satin material was so delightful, the dress was shorter than you’d usually opt for, but in all fairness, it did wonders to your curves. The neckline was deep, showing hints of your breasts, the hem of the skirt reached mid thigh, a dangerous length for bending. The back was exposed completely, aside from protecting the little modesty of your ass. A very flashy thin chain crisscrossed across your smooth back. Of course this type of dress required a warm coat, otherwise you’d suffer from frostbite. You’ll undoubtably will be extremely cold, but that’s a small price you’re willing to pay for this outfit.

Your coat was white and very fluffy, faux fur on the outside, warmed with wool inside. Classy and suits the rose coloured dress perfectly, your heels were high, also rose coloured material on the sides aside from the fact the foot was open, covered with blingy laces that tied up to your mid calf. You looked sexy, that much you knew.

“Suddenly, I wish I had a penis” you hear Alana behind you, her own black heels clicking off the wooden floors of your room.

You laughed, giving yourself a once over in the mirror before you slipped your bag over your shoulder. Linking arms with Alana, you walk down the stairs, where Yeji and Caroline waited. A low whistle is heard echoing the room, the girls stopped talking, smiles bracing their faces as they watched you walk down.

Jungkook watched you across the room, lazily slumped onto the armchair in the corner of the room. You looked so fucking hot and it had something inside the pit of his stomach stirring. He did not want you going anywhere in that outfit. Despite knowing he doesn’t own you or the choice of what you wear, he wishes he could just throw you over his shoulder and rip that dress off your body. He took a sip of his beer as he watched the way your smooth skin shone within the low lighting of the living room.

Good god did you look beautiful. If you were the only person in this room right now, he’d be on his knees right now. Worshipping your body the way it deserves to be, starting from your legs to your forehead he’d cover you in bruises made by his lips, he’d write his name on your body with the way he’d suck on your skin. God he’d destroy you right now, fuck you so good the only thing you’d be thinking about is his name. He wants to imprint his mark on your body, he wants you to reek of him so no man ever gets to come within half a metre of you. So no man can ever touch you again.

God he hates you so much.

Jungkooks a bad liar. He knows that, because his heart is only ever good for you. It only beats to the rhythm of your heart, every time it beats it pumps your name into his blood, injects him with the only poison he’d ever voluntarily ingest. The only medicine that could fix his fucked up head, yet the only thing that he’d let destroy him over and over and over again. He’d write your name everywhere you walked so everyone could know that the most beautiful human being walked the path they are on.

He’d shoot any sick fuck who dared to ever hurt you, he’d slice their throats in a split second to erase them from this world if they ever wronged you. Whatever you desired, he’d feed you it. He’d do whatever you wanted him to do, he’d sell his soul for you.

Even now as the boys compliment you all he does is shoot daggers there way. His eyes only softening when your own lock with his. His heart begins to palpitate, it begins to float only to slam down again, up and down up and down. It was insane the effect you had on him.

As the guys watch the game all he can do is think about you and what you’re doing. Are you having fun? What if you’re making out with someone… what if you’re fucking someone else? Fuck.

He grabs his keys, thankful for only drinking one sip of the cheap beer. Inside the rented car, he pulls his phone out, realising you’ve already been gone for almost an hour, he clicks onto your contact, cooing as he sees the picture he’s set for you, before he calls your phone.

“Yes?” He could already hear the slurring in your speech, his head thrown back into the seat, he closes his eyes trying to focus.

“Where are you?”

You giggle, “why kookie? Are you worried?”

To you, he sounded scared and you knew you shouldn’t mess with him when he’s worried about you. But you couldn’t really care, not when you’ve drunk so much alcohol in such a short period, trying so hard to mend your broken heart with alcohol when you know the only way you’d fix it is with his dick so deep inside you it’d reset you to factory settings. Just a little slut for him, just how he loves to tell you when he fucks you.

“Y/N, you better tell me where the fuck you are.”

You think for a second, taking this as a chance to ask him a question, better over a phone call than face to face, even if you’re going to see him in a couple of minutes anyway, “why do you hate me?”

“What?” He almost whispered in disbelief.

You sighed, blowing your stray hair away from your face as you leaned against the wall, “I’m in the club around the corner.”

That’s all you say before you hang up on him. He cusses, starting the car and pulling out of the driveway. He can’t believe you walked to this place in such cold weather in such a flimsy dress, or in heels in this slippy weather. Sometimes you really love testing the waters of how much luck you have. As he enters the club, his eyes swarm across the crowds trying to find you, he finally does. You’re swaying side to side, talking to some guy who seems like he’s also pissed drunk. He waits for a minute, locating yeji before he begins walking towards you.

He looked so good it hurt so much. He wore black slacks, and a black knit sweater. His hair perfectly laying on his head. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up, his Rolex so shiny and perfect around his wrist. He looked so cozy and hot it wasn’t fair.

“Come on let’s go home.” He says. Draping his trench coat over your shoulders.

“You’re not my dad.” You scoff.

He gives you a look, telling you he’s serious. You roll your eyes, shrugging out of the jacket and brushing past him as you walk to Yeji. His warm woody vanilla scent wrapping around you and already sticking to your clothes.

“Your brother is annoying” you say, with a pout.

She glances behind you, smirking, “he saw your outfit and it probably freaked him out.”

“What do you mean”

“He probably thought you were gonna hook up with some guy, and he’s jealous so he came to collect his girl.” She winks at you, sipping her sprite with a lime on top.

“Oh please, he hates my guts. Ever since that he hates me.”

She shakes her head at your oblivion, “go with him before he chews this place up.”

You groan, taking your bag from her and walking towards the man with the stern face. You groan even louder when you’re near him, huffing and scoffing as he follows you outside. Following behind he smirks to himself, kicking himself to not coo at your little tantrum.

“I don’t know why I’m even listening to you.” You groan stomping your foot as he wraps the coat around you again.

He ignores you, face still stern and cold. What is wrong with this guy. He’s so confusing, “what’s your problem Jungkook! You come here to ruin my night, demanding I go home with you yet all you do is ignore me and you’re so cold to me but everyone claims that you love me. I’m so confused. What is your problem!”

He tilts his head to the side like a puppy, eyes glistening in the night, putting the stars to shame, “let’s just go home.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No!,” you stand your ground, “either you tell me what’s your problem, or I am turning right back around and finishing what I started with that guy” you nod back to the entrance of the club.

It was very sudden, the way he pressed you up against the car, his hand around your jaw, so gentle yet so dominating, “what did you do with him?”

“Enough to have you go crazy if I told you.” you smirked, lying through your teeth but you loved the way it riled him up. You’re just testing Yejis theory.

“What did you do with him?” He asks again, this time his voice has dropped an octave, his eyes darkening.

“First,” your lips pulled into a flirty smile as your hands tangled into the back of his hair, “I lured him into me, I danced with my ass pressed up against him, before he followed me to the bathrooms, that’s where I kissed him,” your lips get awfully close to his own, so much so that if you puckered them just a little more you’d peck him, your hands sprawled over his chest, eyes looking up into his own, “I then kissed his neck, before his hands started feeling me up. He touched my ass first, squeezing it-“

“Stop” he warned you.

“Then his lips kissed my throat, his hand-“

“y/n, i said stop.”

“Why? Are you not enjoying the way I’m telling you the story? Am I taking too long? Should I skip to the part where he fucks me?”

His body pressed against yours, forehead leaning into your own, hands smacking into the car behind your head, your innocent eyes continued piercing into his, “tell me you’re lying.”

“Why?”

“Please.”

You lean into him, all you had to do was reach up and wrap your lips around him. Taste him again for the first time in ages, “I lied.”

The force with which he kissed you, had you gasping into his mouth, clearly shocked by the way your body melted into the black Mercedes which you’re pressed up against. His lips were hungry, angry and so frustrated. He could taste the cherry vodka on your lips and it drove him to kiss you with such passion it had you moaning without him even doing anything. You could feel the wetness of your pussy dripping past your thongs and down your inner thigh.

“Fuck” you whined, he grabbed your jaw a little bit tighter this time.

“Don’t ever mess with me like that again.” He said, the door behind you clicking as he held it open for you.

You ran your thumb across your lower lip, wiping the messy lipgloss because of his rough mouth. Staring into his eyes with a menacing but such an innocent look. He really didn’t want to fuck you when you’re drunk but shit was he itching to stuff you full of him. As you sit inside the car, his tongue pokes his cheek. Your lipgloss reflecting of his lips.

“I’m going to go get your coat, stay here.”

Not like you had much of a choice. If you did leave he’d probably set this place on fire. So you sat on the leather seat, the bottom of it warm against your ass. Did he set it to heat up for you? That’s so sweet. That’s exactly what he does though, he does these little gestures to make you think you’re progressing only to give you the shoulder. It takes every inch inside you not to scream at him.

He returns shortly with your coat, holding it in his hand the other in the pocket of his pants. It was unfair that he gets to look so good without even trying.

Before he could even reach the car, a woman runs behind him. A stunning woman at that. She was slim and tall, skin as white as the snow outside and hair platinum blonde. Her eyes wore a smoky black eyeshadow, her body dressed in black from head to toe. She was so fucking hot, even you could admit that.

She seems to call out for him, he smirks before turning around to face the strange woman. They talked for a minute, and like some psychopath, you could see the smile on his face just from the back of his head. It had your pink nails digging into the leather seats, a scoff leaving your mouth. Fucking bitch. Surely she could see you in the car.

You were being irrational, you can acknowledge that. But something inside of you kept eating the anger like fire would with gasoline. It had you hot and bothered, so angry steam could be seen coming from your ears. Jealousy was the most infuriating feeling one could ever have to face. It had you out of the car within a second. Walking fiercely towards the man who conversed with the woman.

Your hand wrapped around his shoulders from the back, your voice becoming cute and sultry as you spoke to him, “come on baby, I’m cold I want to go home.”

The woman standing across you, smiled, her face dropping in disappointment as he turned his head towards you for a second, “yeah we should get going hm?”.

He so badly wanted to make you feel an ounce of the furiousness he felt just a few minutes ago when you were telling him about your little hook up. He wanted you to feel how insane it can drive you. Maybe he partly succeeded, but he wanted so badly for you to experience the pulsating jealousy he feels through his body, but he was better than that. He’d never embarrass you like this, not when he can clearly see you uncomfortable. Maybe even a little insecure. To which he’s not sure why, because he’s almost a hundred per cent sure every man and woman alike was staring at you.

He nodded a courtesy ‘bye’ to the woman before wrapping his arm around your waist and guiding you towards the car again, “what did i tell you about staying in one place? Where’s the jacket?”.

You roll your eyes, scoffing.

God you make him crazy, “I don’t want you to get sick, why do you never listen to me.”

You sat inside the car again, your body getting wrapped in a hug of warmth. So cozy and warm. You close your own door before he gets to do it, evidently not happy with him. He gets in beside you, starting the car and pulling off. Your oddly silent, not saying a single word to him.

“Are you warm enough?”

You don’t say anything, just continue looking out the window as he continues driving down the road. He smirks to himself for a split second, before wiping it off his face. He clearly got you riled up and fuck did it make him want you even more.

“So you’re ignoring me?”

He’s about to lose it. What’s the deal with you? What’s the deal with him? Why can’t he be a normal human being and embrace the fact that he can now freely be with you? Is it because of how you left? Without a single word? Without bidding goodbye? Is it perhaps because he had to mend his hurt and self pity but also his disappointment with his own self without anyone there for him? Could it be that he’s so hurt and betrayed that he cannot see past it? Hardly.

Sure enough as you reach the house, the other car is gone from the driveway. Jungkooks brows furrow for a minute, before he reaches for his phone, and sends a text. “The guys are gone out to join the girls.”

You don’t say anything, once again. You simply leave his car and head for the door of the cabin. The cold outside was bitter, a cloud of mist coming out your mouth with every breath that left you. You put the key into the door and open it, setting your bag down on the little black desk by the door. Along with your keys. Jungkook follows you, also discarding his personal items. The silence in the room was loud, it was screaming at you within each corner, it was something that would surely break the toughest soldier.

“Stop ignoring me, it’s rude.”

The scoff that leaves your chest could rattle the the roof right off this little cabin, “excuse me?”

You turn to face him, a rather nerve-racking look is on your pretty little face, and just like mentioned, it made Jungkook nervous.

Your eyes turned into slits as you slowly walked towards him, your heels clicking off the wooden floors, “you’ve got quite the nerve to tell me I’m rude for simply not being in the mood to talk to you, but you can ignore me for the last couple of weeks like it’s nothing. Fuck it’s almost Christmas, we’re leaving to go back home in three days, and the only time you’ve spoken to me within the three weeks that our group reunited is now. Now when I was finally going to try and move on, when I was finally going to stop being stuck on you and have fun. Even if it wasn’t going to be good. Even if it wasn’t with someone who I actually wanted, at least, I wouldn’t still be hung up on you.”

“Have fun with someone?”

“Oh my god,” you whined, “are doing this on purpose? You have me confused for weeks, you don’t talk to me and then suddenly when I feel a small faint of happiness you kiss me! You make me go crazy, I’m going fucking crazy!”

He scoffs, “and you think I haven’t? You left me without a word, you didn’t even have half a mind to talk to me. You just left me. I didn’t know if you were going to come back, if you were going to ever talk to me or yeji again. The moment you walked out that door you took my heart with you, and now you returned, and what? Did you want everything to go back to how it used to be?”

“I don’t know! Maybe? But at least we could have talked about it.” You said.

He walked towards you, hands stuffed in his pocket as he reached you. He looked down at you, so close and personal he could probably see every pore on your face. He made you nervous, the good type of nervous. It was honestly silly how quickly and simply he could have you forget what you’re mad about. How lightning fast he could make your heart skip beats and just how much you wanted him. His hand reached for your waist, grabbing onto the curve of your hip, scrunching the dress up.

“You really think, someone could ever make you have fun, like you do with me?”

Your eyes finally looked up, meeting his darkening gaze. The sultry look on his face had you picking up on confidence. That’s exactly how Jungkook worked on you, he influenced you so much. With him you felt like you could take on the world, like you were the only woman alive. He made you confident, and he made you feel so sexy.

Your eyes turned lazy, lips parting as you looked between his lips and eyes, “you really think I need you to have fun?”

He chuckled, his nose burying in your hair as he closed his eyes to the familiar scent, “oh I know you can have all the fun by yourself.” He smirked.

“Of course you do, at the end of the day, you liked watching me have fun,” your fingers wrapped around his chin, thumb running along his plump lip, “you especially loved watching me have fun when you couldn’t join”

Your hands were almost immediately grabbed into a tight grasp with his one hand, he pinned you against the wall. Your bare back meeting the cold wall had you arching into him with a small gasp, his hips pressed against your lower stomach, “and if I remember correctly, you loved it when I had my own fun with you.”

Your lips were sealed with his own, your breath was caught in your throat as you gasped right into mouth. His mouth was merciless, swallowing you like he was dehydrated. He was crazy, kissing you like his life was on the line. His grip on your hands eased, just so both of his hands could grab your hips, pressing you further into him and at that point you could feel his belt buckle right at your belly button, you moaned mid kiss, the vulgar sound sending blood to his dick and that’s when you felt him hard against your lower belly.

The butterflies that swarmed your stomach had you detaching from his mouth, your body arching into him as your head leaned into the wall, giving him ample space to latch his lips onto your neck, kissing so hard he surely left marks. He really was fucking crazy, shit.

“Fuck, we gotta move, they could be back any second.”

Without much effort, he lifted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist, forehead leaning up against his as his lips sucked into your bottom one, nibbling at it. Your dress rode up, exposing your ass to the cold air and bunching up at your thighs. He took this opportunity to grab a good handful of your ass, slapping it gently. Groaning into your mouth. He walked into his bedroom, on the opposite side of the living room.

He laid you down on the bed gently, his body still against yours your legs relaxed around him. His mouth began kissing down your neck, leaving a bruise on your collarbone before he tapped your ass, “sit up,”

Obedient as always, you sit up. Letting him undo the dress from the back, unbuttoning the three buttons above your ass, “I hate this dress.”

“Do you hate it or are you just jealous?” You smirked.

“Less talking, more kissing.” He chuckled as he kissed you again.

This felt like Jungkook. The Jungkook you know, the sweet man who cares about you. The one that would set the galaxy on fire for you. He slipped the dress of your body, with one smooth move, taking your underwear with him when you lifted your hips up. Your ass still on the edge of the bed, you leaned up on your elbows, your mouth parting as he drops to his knees, and for a second, you thought he was going to take your heels off, instead, he set your foot over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh, his mouth warm against your cooler skin.

Your head leaned back, anticipating his lips. He kissed right on top of your pussy, watching your reaction as his tongue dipped inside your wet cunt. Your mouth opened, a small smile playing on your pretty lips. His tongue licked from the bottom to the top of your slit, collecting your arousal in his mouth, moaning lowly as he attached his lips on your clit sucking onto you, the pleasure forcing your body back down onto the sheets. His tongue began flicking, earning moans as a response. Your hands tangling onto the sheets, he loved you liked this, immersed in your own pleasure.

His finger entered your pussy, the feeling had you whining, biting onto your lip as you moaned, “Jungkook,”

The vibration of his low moan against you, sent shivers down your spine. He added another finger in you, stretching you out and your heel began digging into his back and that in turn made his own moan resound through you, “fuck please I need you.”

He didn’t listen, instead his tongue worked faster on you, his fingers curled in a “come here” motion, rocking inside you with so much strength your body began moving with his motions. Your whines became muffled, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip and finally you came on his fingers.

fuck I missed you”, he said, coming back onto his own feet he impatiently took his sweater off, mouth wrapping around his fingers to suck your cum off them. Your stomach rose and fell, and he was too impatient to take all his clothes off, instead he chose to kiss your body instead, pecking randomly all over stomach, chest and face, “I missed you so much”.

Your hands unbuckled his belt, pulling his zipper down. You started taking of his pants, getting them past his ass and letting them pool around his ankles as you kissed him messily, “I missed you too”.

You pumped his cock in your hand, running your thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and sucking it off right after, “condom.” You say as he begins rutting his dick up your slit, “fuck I didn’t bring any”.

You groaned, his tip hitting your sensitive clit, “I’m on birth control, are you clean?”

His mouth was busy creating bruises behind your ear, “I haven’t slept with anyone since you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

He lined himself up with your pussy, his hands found yours, locking your fingers with his as he raised them above your head. His hips thrusted forward, entering you with a slight stretch. Both of you gasping in time with each other, lips hovering over each other. He took his time pushing inside you. Slowly, stretching you out and your body responded within a second. As if awaking from hibernation. Your hips moved with his as he bottomed out. Your eyes closing as he watched your beautiful face contorted in pure pleasure. He began slowly, his thrusts gentle before your breathy moans made him pick up his pace. His body thrusting with yours as your skin rubbed against each other.

The fullness inside your lower stomach was so good, the way his cock was dragging in and out of you with such precision. It had your toes curling inside your heels. Which made you wonder why he didn’t take them off you.

“You’re mine you get it? No one else’s but mine. I get to, fuck,” he moaned, your pussy clenching around him for a split second, “I get to love you.”

“Yes, fuck yes.” You agreed, your eyes so round and beautiful as they glistened, reflecting all his dreams and hopes in them.

His arm wrapped around your waist, and the force which he began thrusting inside you had you practically screaming, your nails digging into his bag as your chest and cheeks began blushing with your impending orgasm, the bed creaked with his merciless thrusting. His tip hitting something inside you so good that your moans silenced, sweat beading your body as the pleasure seeped from your head to yours toes, shooting electricity through your body as your pussy clenched around him. Leg shaking as you came without much of a warning, your voice choked up, “fuck”.

“Shit” his breathing was fast, moans resonating so deep inside his chest it felt like a rumble against yours. Face hiding in your chest as his thrust became sloppy, he chased his high, your overstimulation making tears form around your eyes as your moans drove him to cum inside you. His dick twitching, pumping hot liquid onto your walls.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

A/N; so nothing was resolved really aside from some sex lol. I apologise for the slow updating I’m so busy. Masterlist is linked in my bio ;).

NO RECREATION OF ANY TYPE OR COPYING IS PERMITTED!

123 notes · View notes

libraryofgage · 3 months

Text

The Prince and the Metalhead (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

I know I just posted part one but I've got Thoughts for this AU that include: Steve's first birthday in Genovia and then his 16th, his conversation with his grandmother about attending public school in America for his senior year, and then we get into him attending Hawkins High and meeting Eddie!

So, yeah, plans lmao

Anyway, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

------

"You'll have a rotating course schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays will focus on math and social studies. Tuesdays and Thursdays will be science and literature. Friday will be Royalty lessons and the history of Genovia. We can also include an elective, if you'd like."

Steve blinks, staring at Sue for a moment before glancing at Jonathan and Robin. Jonathan is looking through a book of photography and Robin is idly scratching behind Dart’s ears. "Will we all have the same elective?" Steve asks.

"Not unless Jonathan and Robin want to join you," Sue says, looking at Steve expectantly. She's got a pen at the ready to write down what he says, and it suddenly feels like a lot of pressure.

Is there a wrong answer here? Is there an answer that gets him sent back to his parents? He looks down, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes blood. Before he can lose himself in his thoughts, a cold and wet nose presses against his hand. Steve blinks, smiling at Dart and picking her up to hold close. "What kind of electives are there?" he asks.

Sue hums softly, flipping to another page on her clipboard. "Possible electives include art, music, theatrical performance, physical education, equestrian studies, botany, and foreign languages, to name a few."

"I'll be taking photography lessons," Jonathan says, looking up at Steve and gesturing to his book.

Robin nods and leans back on her palms. "I'll be doing the physical stuff. Like learning how to fight and practicing ballet to improve my balance," she says, leveling a look at Steve that dares him to say anything about the ballet.

Steve wouldn't, though. He doesn't want to make Robin angry enough to ditch him. He looks down at Dart, thinking for a moment before asking, "Can I take more than one?"

"Of course, but you're limited to three for now," Sue says.

What would be the most helpful? Foreign languages, probably, since he'll definitely have to speak with ambassadors from other countries at some point. He should also learn something that can be shown off, a skill that he could pull out at functions to make his grandmother proud or distract guests.

"What language should I learn?" he asks.

Sue thinks for a moment, tapping her pen against her chin. "Mandarin. It's a business language, and we have close relations with a few representatives from China and Hong Kong. If you'd like to learn a Romantic language first, though, Spanish is good."

"I'll learn Mandarin," Steve decides, nodding once to himself. "And music. I want to learn to play...hmm...the piano."

With a nod, Sue writes his electives down. "Let me know if you'd like to add an elective later, Your Highness. In my opinion, though, your current courses will keep you properly challenged for now."

------------------------

Sue wasn't kidding about his academics being challenging. Steve struggles in math, muddles his way through science, drags himself through literature, and is ready to drop when he hits social studies. He'd ask the tutors to spend more time on topics, but Robin and Jonathan seem to have no problem keeping up, and Steve can't bring himself to disrupt their pace.

His Mandarin lessons are going just slightly better if only because the tutor seems to recognize that slower is better for him. After almost a month, he's starting to understand intonation and vocal variation better, and he can recognize a few characters on sight.

Piano lessons are also going well. His tutor there doesn't burden him with theory; she introduces the keys, shows him how to read sheet music, and then lets him choose songs to learn. Steve feels the most at ease when he's squinting at sheet music and slowly pressing piano keys into something recognizable.

The lessons he really looks forward to, however, are the ones for his Royalty Education. He gets to see his grandmother then, and she spends the whole day with him. Even better, something about this stuff just clicks. He's good at fixing his posture and memorizing silverware placement. He bows just right on his first try and his grandmother compliments his wave.

By the end of the lesson, she'll be smiling, her pride obvious, and take him for a walk in the gardens or to eat cookies in the kitchen.

"Royalty requires maintenance," Clarisse says, standing in front of Steve with relaxed shoulders. "You maintain your demeanor, your image, your knowledge of foreign dignitaries, your understanding of the people’s needs, and your humility. But you must also maintain your pride and your boundaries."

"That sounds like a lot," Steve says, idly tugging at the hem of his shirt.

"It can be overwhelming, but it becomes second nature in time," Clarisse explains, smiling reassuringly. "When you're royalty, you are constantly watched. Many eyes are kind or curious, but others are malicious, and you want to do everything you can to disappoint the malicious ones."

"How?"

"By acting like the Crown Prince you are."

"What kind of prince am I?" Steve asks, finally voicing the question that's been lingering since these lessons started. What kind of prince does his grandmother want? What kind of prince would best serve the people? What kind of prince will be so loved by all that nobody could even think of thinking about getting rid of him?

Clarisse hums, thinking for a moment. "I suppose a good one," she says, her slight smile telling Steve that she's only lightly teasing. "My hope is that you'll be kind and competent. You will make Genovia prosperous without compromising tradition. You won't allow politics to stand in the way of doing what's right by the people of Genovia. But this is a tiring job, so I hope you'll learn how to balance your duties with relaxation."

It's a lot, but Steve can do it. He can be that kind of prince, especially for the country and grandmother that's offered everything he's ever wanted and more. He nods once. "Okay," he says, "What do I need to learn, then?"

Clarisse smiles fondly at him. "Let's start by reviewing Genovian history. Only by knowing the past can you face the future."

With that, she places a book on Steve's desk and doesn't wait for him to open it before telling him about Genovia's founding.

------------------------

Steve has weekends off from classes, which leaves him with more free time than he knows what to do with when he doesn't have to clean a house or make his own meals. So, he's bored, and telling Robin that he was bored was a huge mistake after she suggested riding bikes around the garden only to learn Steve didn't know how.

She'd insisted that he should learn, insisted that Clarisse be the one who teaches him, and insisted on hearing no objections.

And now he's here, standing in front of Clarisse's desk and staring down at his feet as she finishes writing something on the paper in front of her. Joe is standing just to her right, hands behind his back.

"Okay," Clarisse says, gently placing her pen on the desk before looking at Steve with an encouraging smile. "What did you want to ask me, Steve?"

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, takes a deep breath, and looks up. "Well, um, Robin wants to ride bikes, but I don't know how," he says.

"Well, that's easily fixed," Clarisse says, reaching for a phone at the corner of her desk. "I'm sure a member of staff is free to teach you."

Before she can pick up the phone, Steve finds himself blurting out, "Well, I...I was hoping...you could teach me."

Clarisse freezes, blinking twice with confusion before looking at Steve. "You want me to teach you?" she asks. When Steve nods once, she sighs softly. "A queen does not ride bikes. Besides, I have too much work to complete. Perhaps I could accompany you for a walk this evening to make up for it."

Despite himself, despite bracing for rejection, it still hurts. In the three months he's been in Genovia, Clarisse has agreed to just about every request he's made. Every held breath as he waits for cruel words has been released with unprecedented relief when none came. Even when he broke something---a priceless vase, according to Jonathan---his grandmother had simply surveyed the damage, thanked him for being honest, and asked him to avoid kicking soccer balls in the presence of priceless vases in the future.

Perhaps Steve has gotten too comfortable. He shouldn't be pushing like this. If he wants his grandmother's affection, he should know when to hold himself back.

So, despite the unfamiliar urge to ask again in case Clarisse might change her mind, Steve nods once. "I look forward to walking with you, Grandmother," he says, his voice quiet. He glances up, waiting long enough to see Clarisse's smile before turning on his heel and leaving the office as quickly as he can.

Clarisse watches him go, her head slightly tilted as the door closes silently behind Steve. She nods once, glad that Steve is sensible enough to understand things like work and propriety, and picks up her pen once more.

"If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?" Joe asks.

"At this point, Joe, you may as well assume the answer is yes."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, and please pardon my French, my experience has been that assuming makes an ass out of you and me."

It takes a moment for Clarisse to understand the joke. When she does, she can't help her amused smile. "Fair enough," she says, "Go ahead, Joe."

"Do you remember what I said about being Steve's grandmother?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps now is one of those moments where being a grandmother is more important than being a queen. His Highness does not ask for much, and he is not the kind to ask more than once, even if he really wants something. I imagine it took a significant amount of courage to ask you to teach him in the first place."

"Are you suggesting that I...I risk making a fool of myself for all to see?" Clarisse asks.

"I am suggesting you spend time with your grandson, who asks very little of you because he does not believe he can ask for anything."

Clarisse is silent a moment, letting Joe's words process and settle in her brain. Finally, she sighs and gestures to the papers on her desk. "I have work to complete," she says.

"Your Majesty, editing these proposals was on your schedule two weeks from now. You are ahead of your work. A break would not be unreasonable or unwarranted."

Well, when he puts it like that.

Clarisse sighs, leans back in her chair, and looks up at Joe. He's still staring at the door, giving no indication that he feels her eyes on him, but she knows he does. "Have a groundskeeper retrieve bikes and safety gear and meet us in the garden," she says, standing from her chair and bracing herself to look like an utter fool.

Her apprehension fades away fifteen minutes later. It can't hold last when she sees Steve's surprised and delighted expression at her presence. As she helps him put on knee and elbow pads, shows him how to pull the helmet's strap tight, and holds the bike steady as he sits on it, Clarisse decides a little foolishness is perfectly fine (necessary, even) if it will keep the smile on Steve's face.

------------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv, @potato-of-the-lord,

#stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #princess diaries crossover #queen clarisse renaldi #modern royalty au #future steddie #robin buckley #jonathan byers #the party's parents #my writing #anybody else ever have that experience where the first time you realize that somebody won't make you feel guilty for asking for things #you get way in your head about not asking for the one (1) thing that will ruin it all for you #so every time you ask for something new you're bracing to take the request back as quickly as you can #just me?#aight then lmao #to absolutely nobody's surprise i am projecting on steve harrington #if you made it this far in the tags #you deserve a cookie lmao

139 notes · View notes