#but that would have turned into a whole angsty fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aeyumicore · 2 months

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☾ .⭒˚ what's mine ♡ zayne x afab reader

⋆.˚ ☾ pairing: zayne x afab!reader (very fem!reader)

☾ .⭒˚ genre: smut, pwp, not canon events (completely fictional)

⋆.˚ ☾ word count: 10.7k

☾ .⭒˚ content warning: mdni, first time sex with zayne (not virginity loss), jealous!zayne, dom!zayne, zayne slightly loses control of evol, furniture breaks, lot’s of teasing, fictional characters, size kink, vaginal sex, oral sex f!receiving, tongue fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, creampies, slightly drunk sex (not really), tummy bulge, posessive/claiming behavior, let me know if i missed anything!

⋆.˚ ☾ a/n: helloooo writing for my fav zayne again <3 would you guys believe this is actually the first lads fic i ever started but i put it on hold because it was way too elaborate and i didn’t want to make a whole like multi chapter fic? i actually cut out a lotttt of it, it probably would’ve been more like 30k words if i kept the same writing style/detail i had originally, and i just could not do that to myself

also the matthew/intern mentioned in the fic is completely made up and fictional, he is not a reference to any characters! i couldn’t bring myself to use greyson for the purposes of the plot bc i think he and zayne are so cute LOL god i love the jealous angsty feelings trope

pls enjoy hehe i luv u guys <3 also come interact with me on twit @/aeyumicore :’)

⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚ minors dni ⋆.˚ ☾ 18+ only ☾ .⭒˚

“will you go to dinner with me?”

you whip your head around to see where the unfamiliar voice came from, coming face to face with one of the surgical interns of the akso hospital. you’d run into him several times before when visiting zayne at work, but never quite got his name.

“me?”

the intern chuckles at your dumbfoundedness, which he thinks is adorable, “yes, you’re y/n right? my name is matthew. i'm one of the surgical interns here. so, will you let me take you to dinner tomorrow?”

zayne chokes on his rice from the seat beside you, patting his chest a few times to clear his throat. you’d decided to have lunch with zayne after your check-up today; well more like you’d forced him to the cafeteria with you against his will. you’d desperately wanted to try the infamous mint chocolate chip jello the hospital cafeteria served, even though you knew it’d be disgusting. and so you both sat at a table in the cafeteria, you with your jello and zayne with a homemade bento box you’d made for him, along with some of his favorite pastries from the bakery down the street.

at his coughs, the intern’s eyes snapped to zayne’s and it was like he’d just then realized zayne was there, the surprise and anxiety written all over his expression. zayne was always someone who commanded respect and fear from his colleagues and subordinates, so much so that matthew had turned pale as a ghost.

“oh! dr. zayne, i’m so sorry i didn’t realize–” but zayne cuts him off with a simple wave of his hand.

“it’s fine. continue your conversation.” you’re a bit taken back by zayne’s nonchalance. sure, you were just childhood friends but it would be nice if zayne had any reaction at all to being asked out right in front of him. you yourself couldn’t deny the attraction you felt towards zayne but it was seeming more and more that it was completely one sided.

“i, um…” you’re at a loss for words, not knowing how to let the handsome intern down. matthew was honestly very attractive, and seemed kind enough, but you had hoped to spend your friday night with zayne, though you hadn’t had the chance to ask him yet. he’d been swamped with surgeries and patients the last few days and you hardly got to see him at all. and you missed him thoroughly.

“i actually had plans with zay– i mean dr. zayne,” you glance at zayne, hoping he’ll get the message, but the expression on his face is dark and unreadable.

“no we don’t. you should go,” zayne’s tone is cold and his eyes refuse to meet yours. despite yourself, your heart clenches in disappointment. you know zayne could be obtuse but he was also extremely intelligent and perceptive. he undoubtedly knew you wanted to spend your night with him. but it was becoming more and more apparent he did not want to spend his with you.

“but i–”

“i have plans anyways.” your eyes can’t help but sting as he avoids looking at you. so you try to steel yourself; you were a big girl and a little bit of unrequited affection would not destroy you. keeping your voice steady and blinking back unshed tears of frustration, you look up at matthew, his eyes lighting up at you expectantly, and you try to give him your best smile.

“i…i would love to go to dinner with you!”

you don’t notice the deep scowl on zayne’s face as a dark icy storm brews in his green eyes.

–

you stumbled out of the taxi, your way-too-high heels catching on the foot step almost causing you to trip headfirst into the pavement. you sigh as you catch yourself on the cab door and glance at your hunter watch and see that it’s already 1am.

“get home safe miss, and no more drinks, you hear me?” your cab driver reprimands you teasingly.

“yes sir,” you mock salute him as you wobble onto your feet, thoroughly drunk, “thank you so much! please drive safe. good night sir!”

“good night miss!”

you turn towards your apartment building, sighing in exhausted defeat. what an absolute disaster of a night.

the date was unexpectedly wonderful. matthew was handsome, kind, funny, and a complete gentleman. he brought you to a very fancy and expensive restaurant downtown, so you wore one of your most elegant dresses, not that you had many. it was a simple satin black mid-length evening dress, with a slit that exposed just up to your mid thigh and an open back that accentuates your figure. you’d normally never wear something so sensual on a first date, but you couldn’t deny that the way zayne had reacted, or not reacted, stung your heart. so maybe you did go a little extra tonight because you were hurt. so what?

after dinner, matthew and you took a leisurely stroll at linkon park, with enough time to catch the sunset. as you watched the sun melt into the sea of golden yellows and dusky pinks, matthew kissed you. it was passionate, slow, and soft. the perfect kiss.

except when you moaned out zayne’s name.

and so the night ended as quickly as it began. matthew was as understanding as he possibly could have been, but you could tell it killed anything that could have happened between the two of you. matthew was a surgical intern, so with what little free time he had, he said he couldn’t chance it on a girl who was clearly already in love with someone else, especially if that someone was his boss and mentor. he’d offered to give you a ride back home but you refused, saying you’d grab a cab instead.

so you found yourself at a bar, downing shots of soju to numb the mortification of your blunder but also the feeling of utter patheticness. hours went by as you wallowed in your emotions. you’d had feelings for zayne for as long as you could even remember. and still, you couldn’t tell him or move on from him.

but maybe you would have the guts to tell him if it didn’t feel like he literally could not give two cents about you, beyond as a patient and as his annoying childhood friend. it was literally like pulling teeth to get him to spend any time at all with you lately.

so here you were, stumbling into your apartment building at 1:37 am: drunk, exhausted, and empty. the night breeze raised goosebumps on your exposed thighs as your heels clicked on the pavement in the dark.

you headed toward your apartment, through the main entrance and up the lobby elevator, the alcohol still making your brain swim. luckily you no longer saw double, and your eyelids no longer felt like a ton of bricks.

the elevator door dinged open and you trudged toward your unit, your toes screaming in protest in the confine of your heels. you forced your vision to cooperate with you as you tried to punch in your door code. the error buzz sounded out, again and again, and you groaned in frustration.

in the blurry edges of your vision, a large and slightly scarred hand reached over yours. yelping, you whip yourself around and reach to grab the gun you always had strapped to your thigh. but from the icy cold touch against your fingers and the scars littering the pink skin, you realize exactly who it was.

“zayne?” you did your best not to slur, trapped between him and your front door. you don’t miss how he swears under his breath as his eyes trail down your body, lingering at all your exposed skin, before snapping back up to your face. you can’t even imagine how wrecked you must look right now, mentally kicking yourself for not touching up after the bar. your gloss was undoubtedly smeared from the kiss and the copious alcohol, your hair a bird’s nest from the night breeze, and your mascara smeared from the stray tears of your drunken emotions.

you didn’t do a very good job at steeling your voice because zayne saw right through you, his eyes narrowing as they absolutely drank you in, “you’re drunk?” his voice holds a dangerous edge, as if mad that you’d have the audacity to be drunk. he deftly types your access code in, and gently ushers you into your apartment. you stumble in your heels against his body, and zayne wraps his arm around your waist to catch you before you fall. you flush at the way his hands palm the exposed skin of your lower back.

“m’not drunk,” you protest, swatting his hand away, not wanting your body to give any of your feelings towards him away, but zayne only grips you tighter, fingers flitting between the soft satin material of your dress and the goosebump ridden skin of your back. his arm on your waist feels so right, threatening to make you melt right into his embrace. but you fight the urge, trying to hold onto your annoyance.

you can’t see his eyes but you know they’re rolling in their sockets at your obvious drunkeness. he gently guides you through the threshold of your home and then kneels down before you. the sight of him on the floor in front of your feet makes you reel, hoping the furious blush is masked by the flush of alcohol in your blood.

“w-what are you doing?” you try to step back, but your knees wobble and zayne grips your thigh in place. you shiver at his cold touch on your sensitive skin, a little too high for you to keep any semblance of calm.

“do you want to stay in these deathtraps?” he murmurs as he starts to slip the strappy heels off of your aching feet. his fingers around your ankle tingle as he softly massages the red skin of where the straps dug in.

“zayne? why are you here? did something happen?” your voice wavers still, but zayne’s cold touch is starting to sober you up and clear your vision as your mind tries its best to focus on him. zayne doesn’t respond as he lifts your other foot and slips the other heel off. his fingers linger on your bare legs before he slips your house slippers on your feet, standing back up to tower over you.

“it’s almost 2 in the morning, and you’re just now coming home,” his voice is hard and stern, it’s clear he has things he wants to say but you’re in no mood for a lecture on sexual safety, stds, and stranger danger.

“i was busy,” you snap, your emotions running extra high from everything that had happened today, especially zayne’s nonchalance. but he’s incredibly patient with you, as he always is, taking you by the waist nagain and leading you to your living room couch. you’re too tired to resist, and you desperately need to get off your aching feet.

“how was your date?” zayne sits you on your couch and then heads to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. his question reminds you of how royally you screwed up today and your mood sours even more.

“fine,” you mutter, trying to keep from snapping at him again. zayne sits beside you and brings the glass of water to your lips, tilting it for you with his fingers on your jaw. you take deep gulps, the cold water soothing your entire sore body. sinking further into the couch, your mind wanders back to your disastrous screw up. you’d called matthew zayne. it literally couldn’t get more mortifying than that.

zayne stares at you and you know he doesn’t believe you, so you murmur again, “it was fine.” but as his intense eyes bore holes into you, your voice cracks under all the feelings you’d stuffed deep down today.

he was here now and it confused you to no end. you’d wanted nothing more than to spend your day with him, but he’d pushed you away. were you really that blind that you’d developed feelings for a man who did not feel even slightly the same way?

your eyes well up with tears at the thought and you try to subtly brush them away by pretending to scratch your cheek, but as always zayne sees right through you.

“did he do something to you? did he get you drunk?” zayne’s voice is calm but hard and threatening.enough to scare you if it weren't for the way he softly gripped your chin, forcing your eyes back to his, using his free thumb to catch the tears before they can slip down your cheek

but through it all, you register the implication of his words. “wh-what? no!” you exclaim, “matthew was a complete gentleman.”

his eyes track yours, unwilling to let go of your gaze, “then why are you crying?”

you blink back your tears before more can fall onto his thumb. your voice wavers as you stare into the hazel green ocean of his eyes, and you answer his question with a question of your own, “why are you here zayne?”

“i wanted to make sure you got home safe.” your chest constricts with unrelenting emotions, but your drunken haze makes you even more steadfast in your stubborn resolve.

“well i’m home, safe,” you avert your eyes, knowing if zayne keeps staring at you with that intensity you’ll start to unravel and confess everything.

“why did you take a cab home?”

your eyes snap to his, “how did you know i took a cab?” and this time zayne’s eyes refuse to meet yours, “zayne? how long have you been waiting for me?”

zayne doesn’t respond, instead brushing the tangles out of your hair. you try to get his attention by tugging at his tie, the alcohol making you feel much bolder than you normally ever would.

you can see his adam's apple bob as he lets himself be drawn in, only slightly, towards you. at your pout, he sighs in defeat, prying your hands away so he can loosen the tightened hold around his neck, “i’ve been waiting for you…forever.”

before you can respond, he clears his throat and continues, “i got here at 9 and waited in my car when i knocked and you didn't answer.”

at your bewildered expression, he sighs and elaborates, “i just wanted to see you get back home safely. but when i saw you get out of that cab i needed to come check on you.”

your brows furrowed as your sobering self tried to do the math in your head. zayne can practically see the steam coming out of your ears and smiles lopsidedly, chuckling under his breath at how adorable you were being.

“you waited for 7 hours?!” you exclaimed, eyes wide.

his grin deepens and you can see his eyes sparkling with laughter , “you are drunk. why are you drunk?”

you purse your lips shut, unwilling to speak. with all the overwhelming emotions swarming your mind, you knew if you started talking now you would surely never stop.

at your silence, zayne prods gently, “talk to me, y/n.” his voice is deep and commanding in a way that almost always gets you to listen to him.

you zip your lips shut and turn away, doing your damn best to not give in. but zayne’s touch, still on your cheeks, forces you back towards his eyes.

“be a good girl,” he demands softly, his eyes searching yours for answers.

blowing out your cheeks like a child, you’re unwilling to give up the attitude, “i’m drunk because i was drinking.”

“did matthew take advantage of you?” zayne’s jaw is locked and the intensity in his eyes is blinding, damn near dangerous.

“no! zayne, no. i went to a bar to drink alone, after our date,” you try to hide the embarrassment from seeping into your voice.

“why? did he do something to you?” his voice is still threatening, and you sigh at the unrelenting questions. you knew zayne well enough to know he wasn’t going to let up, so it would just be easier on you if you told him everything that happened.

“matthew was amazing,” you don’t notice the way zayne’s eyes darken at your praises for the intern, “the date was fantastic. and after, we saw the sunset.” his expression is still unreadable and you start to fidget under his intense gaze, not knowing in the slightest what he was thinking.

“and then he kissed me. we kissed. and that was it. i went to the bar and he went home. end of story.”

zayne’s fists ball so tightly his knuckles turn white, but he keeps his gaze steady. he doesn’t speak, and you’re scared of the tense silence that falls between you two.

“he couldn’t at least accompany you? make sure you were safe?” you can tell zayne is angry by the way his feet taps uncharacteristically erratically against the floor, “driven you home?”

his questions make it impossible for you to forget about your horrifying mistake today and you just feel so incredibly bad for matthew. the regret and embarrassment gnaw at your mind like parasites. and so against your better, albeit slightly still drunken, judgment, you finally blow.

“he left because i was thinking of you, okay? matthew was a gentleman, he was funny, kind, and charming. and yet i was thinking of you the whole time. and so he left and i went to a bar and got drunk all on my own, okay?”

“you were thinking of me?” zayne’s voice is an annoying mix of bewilderment, intrigue, and what sounds like mockery, which just infuriates you.

“i am always thinking of you zayne! i thought about you at dinner, i thought about you when we watched the sunset, and i thought about you when he kissed me,” you burst, your drunken lack of inhibitions leaving nothing unsaid.

zayne’s face is unreadable again, but there’s a heat in his eyes that makes you tremble in your seat, “you were thinking of me when he kissed you?”

unable to bear his unrelenting repetitive questions anymore, you explode, “yes zayne! and when he kissed me i called out for you!” the confession tumbles out of your mouth before you can even think twice about it. it takes you a second to realize what you’d just blurted out and you bury your face in your hands, wanting nothing more than to scream at the top of your lungs. unfortunately it was 2am and you had neighbors that most definitely would not appreciate that.

you feel his strong hands grab your wrists gently, prying your hands away from your face, wanting to see you, “you called for me?” his tone is as amused as it is intrigued and it frustrates you to no end, the shame weighing heavily on your mind.

“don’t tease me right now zayne,“ you warn weakly, “i am always thinking about you. but you…” your voice trails off to a shallow whisper, “you don’t seem to think about me.”

zayne is silent but his eyes are as intense as you’ve ever seen them, staring into your soul. the silence is thick in the air as you refuse to be the one to break it.

finally, he speaks, voice clouded with indiscernible emotions, “is that what you really think? that i don’t think about you?”

“do you really think i waited for 5 hours, in my car, for you to come back because i don’t think about you?” your breath catches in your throat at the pure and raw growl in his voice.

before you can respond, he continues, “i think about you every second of every day. i thought about you all day, thought about you on your date with matthew.”

zayne shifts so that he can cup your face with both his hands, drawing his face closer but not close enough, “i thought about him getting to hear your voice, getting to touch you…to kiss you. it drove me insane.”

your feelings churn in your stomach and into your chest, making it hard to breathe. the way zayne is looking at you, his hands holding your face so possessively, threatens to stop your heart altogether. you’re drawn to him all over again, only this time it feels like he might be drawn to you too.

“w-why?”

zayne doesn’t speak, and you watch as his eyes flutter to your parted lips as you pant out your breaths, eyes fighting to stay open amidst all the tension enveloping the two of you.

“why did you push me to go with him then?”

his eyes force themselves onto yours, as if unwilling to leave your lips, “i made a mistake.”

his revelations quickly sober you up, and you’re left feeling vulnerable but bold. you softly grab a fist full of his tie, pulling him closer. you can faintly hear him groan under his breath, but he lets himself be guided towards you. your lips are so close to each other that you’re inhaling each other in, and you beg gently, “kiss me, zayne.”

zayne wastes no time at all, threading his fingers from your cheek into your hair, pulling your face the remainder of the distance to his own.

your first kiss with zayne is nothing like you’d daydreamed it would be. you’d imagined the patient and reserved surgeon to be soft, gentle, taking his time with you. you’d expected it to be passionate but reserved, like the handsome raven haired man himself.

and while the passion was undeniably there, what you didn’t expect was the bruising claiming heat that came with it. zayne’s soft lips marked you as his own, a lifetime’s worth of emotions evident in the way he molded himself against you. with every twitch of his lips, zayne laid claim to what was his. he kissed you like you might disappear at any moment, as if this was all a dream.

and when his tongue swiped across the parting of your lips, asking for permission to enter, you gladly relented control and authority. after all, you were his. you think you had been for some time.

you hadn’t expected your first kiss with zayne to be like this, and yet it was everything you wanted and more.

when you shift yourself to climb on top of him and straddle him on your couch, zayne reluctantly pulls away, hands still gripping the back of your head, “y/n, we should stop.” but he can’t stop his hands from leaving your soft hair and resting on your hips, almost like a reflex. his words say one thing but his hands just can't seem to pry themselves off of you.

you’re taken aback by his words, unable to stop the insecurity and hurt that paints your face. zayne notices instantly, one of his hands leaving your hips to stroke your cheek, hooking some of your hair behind your ear. you lean into his hand, the whiplash starting to exhaust you as much as it kept you on your toes.

“i want to,” he whispers hoarsely as you squirm on top of him, answering your unsaid thoughts, “i can’t even convey how much i’ve fucking wanted to. but you’re drunk. and the first time i finally take you…i want you to feel every second of it.”

your eyes flutter at his words, stomach clenching in anticipation. having fully sobered up a while ago, before he even kissed you, you can’t help but beg a little, “i’m not drunk anymore. and even if i was… i want you. i’ve wanted you…forever.”

zayne swears, his eyes going full doctor mode, and you can tell he’s inspecting every inch of you to try and discern if you’re truly sober or not. you fidget nervously under his intense stare, to which his hands grip your waist painfully tight to keep you in place.

“stop,” he grits out forcefully, as if in pain. you do your best to still in his lap, and that’s when you feel the unmistakable bulge of his erection underneath your parted dress that had ridden up to bunch at your hips, right against the pantyhose against your cunt.

“are you sure this is what you want?” he groans as your body presses deeper into his lap, “because once…we start i won’t be able to stop.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, the heated warning doing nothing but arousing you to your core. through your hooded eyes, you nod eagerly at him, “m’sure zayne. won’t want to stop.”

he smirks at you, a heart stopping smile that melts your brain and cunt simultaneously into a leaking mess, “you asked for it love.”

before you can even have the chance to physically combust at the affectionate pet name, zayne whisks you into the air, scooping you under your exposed knees effortlessly. you yelp, clutching onto his neck as he carries you like a bride into your bedroom, navigating your apartment like he owned it. he bent down to capture your lips with his again, like he couldn’t physically wait to get you to your bed before claiming you again.

you feel the cold press of your sheets against your spine as zayne sets you down gently, and settles in between your thighs on top of you. his eyes absolutely devour you whole, raking up and down your exposed satin clad skin, “you look beautiful. i’ve been wanting to tell you all night.” his praise is throaty with desire and it makes you squeeze your thighs together against his body in anticipation. your face heats at his words, and you run your palms up and down his abdomen, the material of his dress shirt feeling like silk against your burning skin.

zayne grins and chuckles, mostly to himself, but the sound catches your attention and you find yourself pouting in self-consciousness, “what’s funny?”

zayne’s long fingers trace the outlines of your body under the satin dress, eliciting soft moans from you that please him to his core, “you just look so beautiful.” his fingers reach the bottom of your dress and begin to stroke the fabric of your pantyhose, inching up under your dress, so torturously slowly, “you wore this for him, yet i’m the one that’s going to tear it off you.”

your body trembles at his words, the pool between your legs growing wetter. you can feel yourself growing impatient, only wanting his body to press onto yours, to suffocate your.

“zayne please, don’t make me wait any more,” you murmur as you sit up on your elbows, pressing your forehead against his. you heartbeat is quick and your rapid breaths fan across his face.

his eyes darken at your pleas, the hazel hues appearing almost a light brown, “fucking hell y/n, you’re going to drive me insane.” he sits up on his knees, loosening his tie before undoing it completely and discarding it on the floor next to your bed. you bite your lip as you watch him undo the top three buttons of his shirt, his toned chest on display under it.

leaning back down, he presses a bruising kiss against your swollen lips. his hands wander to the thin straps of your dress, gently tugging until they slip off your shoulders, letting him tug your dress down until your breasts are exposed. his tongue against yours is unrelenting, marking every inch of your mouth as his.

detaching himself from you, he buries his face into your neck, his cold lips incredibly soothing against your lust burned skin. you cry out when you feel his teeth softly sink into the skin of your pulsepoint, as he suckles on you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted.

“zayne,” you gasp out, his tongue and teeth working in tandem to have your mind filled with nothing but his mouth on you, “please.”

he trails down your neck and collar, inhaling you into his lungs at every opportunity. you feel his smile against your skin as he reaches your breasts, your nipples pebbled from the lust. he voice is muffled against you, “please what, my love?”

“i…” you’re too mortified to say the things you want him to do, so the silence overtakes you. unhappy with your hesitation, zayne bites into the supple flesh above your pert nipple, eliciting a string of moans and squeals from you. he’s instantly using his tongue to soothe the pain away, quickly replacing it with waves of raw pleasure.

zayne lifts his head, staring at you expectantly, “i can’t continue if you don’t tell me what you want.”

his unrelenting teasing drives you to the edge of madness, your arousal evident by the way it leaks through your panties and your pantyhose. but you’re stubborn, still refusing to speak.

“good girls listen to their doctors don’t they?” he places fleeting kisses onto your goosebump riddled areolas, careful to purposefully neglect your increasingly sensitive nipples.

“should doctors really be this intimate with their patients?” you retort like a brat, wanting to dish back all of his incessant teasing.

he smiles at you, thoroughly amused at your insolence, “i suppose not, but am i really just your doctor?” with that he captures your waiting nipples into his mouth. you cry out at the incredible feeling of his cold lips on your breasts but his warm tongue on your nipple, your lower body thrusting up uncontrollably into his crotch.

he groans into your chest as you brush against his throbbing erection, restricted by the confines of his pants. against the heat of your womanhood, zayne hardens impossibly further, feeling like he might actually explode against the constraint. the sounds of your pleasure and your cries for him make it difficult for him to concentrate.

switching to your other nipple, zayne uses one hand to undo his belt, letting it fall to the ground with his tie. he undoes the button and zipper his pants, yanking them down with such feral urgency. when his cock was finally free, he broke away from your chest, hissing in relief. you look down and you’re met with the realization of why he was in so much pain.

zayne was large. in a way that terrified you to your very core. you could imagine that the restraint of his briefs alone would be uncomfortable, painful even, when holding something like that back.

zayne catches your stare and he grips your chin between his fingers, guiding you to his eyes instead, “it’ll fit baby, don’t worry.”

you fight to keep your lip from quivering, trying not to get lost in his green eyes, “will it?”

“i’ll make it fit, but first let me prepare you love,” he says matter-of-factly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. the certainty in his voice turns you unbelievably on and you find yourself needing to please him. your hand seeks out his erection, grasping it firmly into your fingers.

he groans at the slightest touch, knees buckling into the bed beneath you. you start with languid and deliberate strokes, feeling every vein pulse under your fingers. your thumb finds his large engorged head, already leaking with pre cum, feeling every smooth surface of his cock under your touch. while zayne writhes on top of you, you revel in his glorious manhood, everything about it utterly perfect and terrifying.

as you touch him, zayne leans into the crook of your shoulder, laying claim to your sensitive neck. he marks every inch of bare skin he can find, leaving a trail of red and wet bruises in his wake.

your entire palm is wet with his leaking arousal, as he moans so closely into your ear. gently, he pries your palm away from him, sitting back up onto his knees, smirking satisfyingly down at the marks he’d left, “god, i’ve waited so long to have you.”

you reach down to shimmy out of your pantyhose and black evening dress, leaving you in your black lace thong, naked, willing, and pliant before him. you see him gulp harshly, his eyes hazy with need, and you sit up to level with him, “so take me zayne.”

a low growl rips from his throat, as he pushes you back onto the bed, setting your head against your wooden headboard. zayne tortures you, kissing down your collar, your chest, your naval, and finally down the soft mound of your pelvis.

zayne seems almost feral as he looks at your lace covered cunt and back up at you, “did you really wear this for him?”

“n-no,” you whine, “i wouldn't have ever l-let him. he wasn't you.”

zayne seems somewhat placated by your response, hooking his cold fingers into the waistband, his voice a low grumble, “that’s my good girl. no one will ever see you in or out of these, but me. right?”

your brain fogs over as he slips your soaked panties down your legs, his breath hitching seeing the string of clear slick clinging to your cunt.

“fuck.” he’s lost in his stares, in absolute awe of the meal before him, carving every single perfect centimeter into his memory. you squirm under his intense stare.

“zayne please don’t make me wait anymore,” you wine, crying out as he bends down and his lips graze the apex of your slit.

his voice is incredibly smug, “you are so beautiful when you beg for me.” you sigh in frustration as his lips and fingers continue to just barely graze your needy body.

“zayne, please,” your body thrusts into his, but he holds you back down, almost impatiently.

“behave yourself, y/n. you can do that for me, can’t you?” his voice is full of command, making you back down instantly, shivering at the suspense of his words.

“i didn't wait this long to have you just to rush all the things i want to do to you,” he all but purrs, as his lips find your soaking slit.

the room is filled with your lewd cries as zayne’s tongue licks a stripe from your clit to your throbbing hole. as your doctor, zayne knew the ins and outs of your body but you never expected him to know you like this. like his tongue was designed for nothing else but to deliver you the most unimaginable pleasure in this world.

zayne groans when his tongue enters you for the first time, the quivers resonating straight to your core. his nose brushes against your clit as he fucks you with his tongue, the vibrations of his own lust filled grunts bringing you closer to releasing all over his skilled mouth.

your thighs clench against his face, and you almost worry you might suffocate him. you try to pry them away from him, but he only grips them with his strong hands, bringing them closer to his face, wanting nothing more than to be yours, wholly and irrevocably.

“you taste better than i ever imagined,” he moans out, staring into your eyes from between your legs. you blush at the filth of his words and the glistening slick smeared across his lips and chin.

“did you – ahh hah – think about me often?” you tease between the sounds that spill out of your mouth uncontrollably.

he doesn’t answer, instead capturing your entire clit into his lips, sucking in earnest. you feel his smirk as you squeal out, hands digging into the fabric of your sheets and tugging hard. his hands knead your ass as he continues to eat, positively starved.

“z-zayne i-i can’t take much more,” you slur, your toes curling against his sides as he goes back to spearing his tongue in and out of you, using the tip of his nose to massage your clit, inhaling the smell of your arousal into his lungs.

“yeah? is my girl gonna make a mess for me?” he breathes into you, his hands reaching up to toy with your nipples. you cry in response, feeling the coil in your gut tightening beyond belief, the pleasure threatening to make you explode.

“cum into my mouth love, let me taste you,” he whispers breathlessly into your cunt, slipping his middle finger inside of you, the wet sounds of his skin pounding into yours filling the room. you come done instantly, screaming as your back arches off the bed and you release all over zayne’s waiting mouth, hands ripping at his soft hair.

“that’s it baby, look at you cumming from just one finger,” he muses, working you through your orgasm with just his middle finger. you let out a stream of broken moans, unable to form any words.

“fuck you’re this tight around just one of my fingers?” he murmurs before dipping back down to devour everything you give him.

he laps up your spend eagerly and diligently, not letting a single drop go to waste. refusing to relent against your twitching clit, zayne devours you until the overstimulation lights your pussy on fire. he’s always had a sweet tooth and it looks like he’s found his absolute favorite dessert, unwilling to give it up any time soon.

“such a messy girl,” he mumbles to himself, the clear strings of arousal sticking from your wet thighs to his chin.

your thighs tremble at the discomfort of overstimulation, doing your best to back away from him, “mmm zayne, s’too sensitive. no more, please.”

he relents reluctantly, looking utterly displeased with having his treat taken away. as he sits up, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans forward into you, tapping your lips with his thumb.

“open,” he commands forcefully, bringing his soaked middle finger up to you. you part your lips obediently, welcoming the taste of you on his skin. his eyes squeeze shut and he lets out a deep heated moan at the feel of your tongue on him, tasting everything he got to taste. his cock literally felt like a ton of bricks needing to be pleased.

releasing his finger, you reach for his length again, “i-i want to make you feel good too.”

zayne presses his cold lips to yours, simultaneously undoing the buttons of his shirt. he pulls aways to shrug the clothing off his broad shoulders, giving you an eyeful of his glorious physique. he shivers, letting you jerk his erection up and down, but pushing you down when you try to get on your knees before him.

“next time. we have all the time in the world,” he whispers, pushing you against the headboard, holding your cheek in his large hand, “but right now i need to be inside you.”

the smoldering fire in his eyes makes your mouth dry, and you nod meekly. the promise of a ‘next time’ is enough to have you ready for him again. your cunt still quivered, recovering from your previous orgasm, but pooling at the hoarse need in his tone.

as your head lays on a pillow against the headboard of your bed, zayne lifts you from the small of your back and shoves another pillow behind you, so that you’re elevated towards him, served on a silver platter.

“spread your legs for me,” he growls, the urgency in his voice leaving little room to protest. and so you obey, widening your legs for him, watching as he admires the area between your thighs like it was

his hand reaches to cup you, clit caught against his palm and fingers toying with your hole, “who does this belong to?”

but you can’t hear him through the searing pleasure of his touch against your over sensitive body, the blood pounding in your ears like drums. looking at where his hand meets your body, you cry out at his ministrations against you, your thighs trembling in shivers.

with his free hand zayne grabs your chin, slipping his thumb into your mouth, harshly forcing your eyes to his, “don’t look away. be a good girl and answer me.”

although his words are driven with lust, they remind you of the emotional turmoil you’d been weathering because of your feelings for the man in front of you.

“m’yours zayne, always been yours,” tears well in your eyes and you hope he can understand the weight behind your words, behind all the lust and arousal filled craze.

zayne stares back at you, and his eyes hold an entire galaxy of emotions that match the colors of his irises: desire, devotion, awe…and love.

“and i am yours,” his words strike your heart and you lean up to slot your mouth against his. as he kisses you, he lines up his thick length with your cunt, teasing your clit with his engorged tip, his pre cum mixing with your spend that still leaked out from your prior climax. you cried into his open mouth at his teases, your back arching off the pillow and further into his cock. at your movement, his head catches onto your throbbing and waiting hole, eliciting a deep grunt from him.

he pulls away, groaning, “so impatient, you want it that bad?” you whimper, burying your face into his neck and latching onto his pulse point to save yourself from having to answer.

“p-please…” you whisper into his ear. he groans, fishing through the pocket of his pants as he pulls them off of his legs.

“please what, love?” he smirks at you, pulling his wallet out, now just in his briefs pulled down to let his massive erection free.

you gulp, staring at the way he stands so proudly against his naval, reaching comfortably to his belly button. his girth rivals that of at least three of your fingers.

the rustling of plastic snaps you out of your shameless ogling. zayne places a condom packet between his teeth, tearing it with one hand. you gulp at the sight of him, but you protest, “i–i um,” you clear your throat, trying to work up the courage to vocalize what you want, “you don’t have to use that.”

zayne’s dark eyes catch yours, and the edge in his voice is dangerous, a warning, “don’t tempt me. i need to protect you.”

your face burns as you try again., “w-what i mean is, well as my doctor you know i’m clean.” you do your best to stop your voice from wavering, “and i-i um i’m on the pill.”

zayne’s eyebrows quirk as his irises darken with heat, “how come i didn't know that?

“i’ve been using an online service for a few months,” you say sheepishly, “s-so you don’t have to use that.”

zayne catches on, a satisfied smirk gracing his features, “is that so?” he teases his entire length on your slit, practically fucking you along the lips of your womanhood. using his swollen tip, he taps your clit forcefully, eliciting a throaty yelp from you.

“tell me what you want.” you shiver at the pure feral domineer in his voice.

“p-please zayne, i want it. i need it.”

“what do you need baby?”

you groan in frustration, but give into his demands, “i-i need you zayne, need you inside. need it so bad.” the way you can see his breath hitch in his throat fills you with confidence, so you lean closer until your bottom lip brushes against his, “need to feel you inside, please zayne.”

his jaw locks as he grits out forcefully, “i will give you everything.”

zayne holds his cock with one hand, lining it up with your entrance. his other hand grips the wooden beams of your bed frame, “can you take it y/n?”

if you’re being completely honest, you’re not sure you can. though you weren’t a virgin, you had never even seen a man so large, let alone attempted. but at zayne’s expectant expression, you nod eagerly, “y-yes i can, i-i can try.”

“good girl,” he mutters, before sinking himself into you. the stretch is so much worse than you imagined it would be, practically splitting you in half. you squealed, clawing at his biceps as he did his best to enter you. feeling so incredibly stuffed, you look down only to see he’s barely just gotten his tip inside.

the vein in zayne’s forehead throbs as his jaw slackens, a string of swears leaving his lips, “jesus you’re like a vice down there. i need you to loosen up love, or else i’ll never be able to get inside.”

you pant against him, not knowing what to do but to watch the way he stares intently at your tummy. the heat and desire in his expression arouses you beyond belief, and you unconsciously squeeze your velvet walls in excitement.

zayne’s knuckles turn white as he grips the headboard for support, the veins in his forearms bulging as he groans out, “fuck baby please. are you trying to squeeze it off?”

“sorry, m’sorry. s’too big,” you wail, hands gripping his shoulders for support. the stretch is nothing like you’ve ever felt, and you don’t know if you can take much more than what’s already inside you. “z-zayne it’s too big i c-can’t,” you pant, doing your best to relax and loosen up your muscles.

“you can, you’re doing so good for me y/n,” zayne huffs out, pushing deeper into you, the slick from your forming arousal and his pre cum starting to make the stretch easier. the drag of his cock against your gummy walls starts to feel so torturously delicious, like your body was made to take him in.

finally, he eases into you, eyes unable to look away from where your bodies connected.

“if you could see how – hah – beautiful you look like this, spread out for me,” he grunts, being as gentle as he can manage, when all he wanted was to ram into your warm and tight cunt, squeezing him so tightly.

“been waiting for the day i could – shit – finally be inside you. drove me fucking insane thinking about you and matthew.”

his words are enough to have you leaking all over your joined bodies, the slick dampening his pelvis and your thighs. as he seats himself in you as deeply as he can, his tip brushing against your womb, he lets out a shaky breath of ecstasy.

“is this what you – hah – thought about? when you were with another man?” his words are claiming, making butterflies explode in your gut and your cunt to flutter around him. you can only moan and drool as his body thuds into yours, over and over.

“sweetest little princess cunt i’ve ever felt,” he swears, languidly withdrawing from you before pushing back in, knocking the breath out of you. with your head leaning against the back of your bed frame you can see every second of his glistening length burrowing in and out of you, like it absolutely owned you.

“z-zayne,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders, “please.” you don’t know exactly what you’re begging for, but you can’t stop the words from coming.

“hah, if you want something you have to – fuck – ask for it love,” he pants, doing his best not to get lost in the pure pleasure of finally getting to be inside you.

his words send you reeling, the ecstasy increasing with each deliberate and hard drag. you fight through the fucked out haze, vision blurred from your hooded lids, “hah - harder please.”

at your request zayne stutters for a brief second, your cunt squeezing so tight he could barely move, “anything for you.”

with his hand clutching the frame, he uses his other hand to rub harsh circles onto your swollen clit. his pelvis smacks against your thighs and ass so hard that the bed posts knock into the wall repeatedly, the skin slapping sounds mixing with the sounds of the wood against the plaster.

at the added stimulation your eyes roll into your brain, your eyelids weighing down heavily. zayne leans in until his chest presses against your breasts, your breaths heaving in tandem. his eyes follow yours, forcing you to hold eye contact with every deep thrust into your soul. against your will, your eyelids flutter as the pleasure starts to overcome your fighting consciousness.

you can vaguely make out zayne’s smirk, as his hand leaves the frame to cup your chin in his palm, “don’t tell me you’re already worn out, love.” his fingers flick against your clit.

you yelp out, nails digging into his back with one hand while the other hand smacks his shoulder gently. you pout, “you’re so mean to me.”

he leans down to kiss your shoulder, his pace never faltering. he chuckles against your skin, “but you can take it, right? you always take me so well.” the double meaning of his words makes you clench in excitement, the praise making your chest tighten.

he groans as you clench down onto him, threatening to make him blow, “hah so fucking tight. you like that huh baby? you like it when i praise you?” he thumbs your clit with more intensity, wanting to see you come absolutely undone for him.

you bite your lip to keep from screaming, nodding eagerly in response to his words. zayne’s thrusts only grow in intensity, as if he’s trying to reach your esophagus from your cunt. you’re a mess of uncontrollable moans and mewls, unable to stop your eyes from rolling back and your tongue from hanging out as he fucked you into oblivion.

“look at you,” he grins arrogantly, voice husky with desire and raw possessiveness, “going on a date with my intern just to end up with my cock stuffed in you.”

you whine at his words, simultaneously not wanting to think about matthew but also being so turned on by the dominating undertone of his words. his fingers abandon your clit, much to your disappointment, to trace the bulge his cock makes in your tummy. his other hand pulls your chin down so you can watch him.

“look how deep i am, love,” he grunts. you watch in awe as the small bump in your stomach bulges and disappears with the rhythm of zayne’s thrusts. with every withdrawal, zayne’s impressive cock glistens with slick, the throbbing veins bulging enough to make you drool. absolutely entranced, you fit your hand under his to stroke at his cock as it pushed through your tummy.

zayne swears as you caress his cock through the bump in your tummy, throwing his head back to catch his breath. his hand goes back to paw at your clit, trying to stop himself from blowing his load into you right there.

as the climax builds in your gut, you throb around his impossibly hardened length spearing in and out of you, to which he twitches inside of you. the sounds of your combined whimpers and grunts, the lewd smacks of his damp slick dampened skin against yours, and the bed slamming against the wall overwhelm your brain until you can only think about zayne, his cock inside you, and the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.

“zayne, i-i’m close,” you cry, hand abandoning your stomach to loop around his neck, digging your nails into his damp skin.

“fuck – i know love, i can feel you trying to squeeze it out of me,” he grunts, body slamming into yours so hard that your body smacks against the headboard.

“i’m gonna – gonna cum,” you cry, nails digging into the taut muscles of his back.

“no,” he demands, and you do your best not to gape at him. he gasps through his next strokes, “be a good girl and wait for me. i want to feel you finish all over me when i cum inside you.”

“o-okay,” you say, but you’re honestly unsure if you’ll be able to wait, the waves of pleasure crashing into you so roughly it threatens to overtake you right then and there.

“that’s my girl,” gripping your chin, zayne leans in to kiss you again, his tongue claiming your warm and waiting mouth. your eyes squeeze shut and your body tenses as you try to quell the raging tides of the impending climax, moaning endlessly into zayne’s mouth.

you pull away to breathe, your lungs needing as much oxygen as possible to withstand the ecstasy. zayne’s hand grips the wooden beams above your bed again, his knuckles turning white as he watches the pleasure contort your beautiful face.

“i-i can’t – ”

“you can, baby. i’m – hah – almost there, just hold on a little longer for me,” he grunts. the pleasure and pain of his edging threatens to knock you unconscious, but you nod and throw your head back as your eyes roll backwards again.

through your fucked out haze you can vaguely see a strange icy sheen forming on the wooden beams of your bed’s headboard. you follow the path of luminous crystals and realize they’re forming from zayne’s hand that grips against the frame so tightly his knuckles are pale and taut, as he comes closer to exploding inside you.

unable to shake yourself out of the pleasure, you can’t find the words to warn zayne. you continue to watch in awe as the beautiful iridescent flakes frost over the dull old wood. his palm is covered in a layer of snow white frost, the tiny snowflakes dancing around his skin as it grips the furniture so forcefully. you realize he’s losing control of his evol, because of you. and the idea of that threatens to push you head first into your second orgasm of the night.

it happened so fast. as zayne bullies himself in and out of you, thrusting as if his life depended on it, the wooden beams of your headboard cracks in his hand, the wood turning brittle against his icy evol, and shattering under the force of his bruising grip.

zayne shields your body with his own as frozen wooden splinters fly everywhere, his thrusts stuttering as the sound of cracking wood pierces the air. you can tell he’s scared, constantly worried about losing control of his evol around you like this. his hands clasp together, massaging his wrists and trying to calm the unpredictable storm of his evol. you can feel him about to pull away, to get away from you and keep you safe.

you hug him close to you as he tries to pull away not wanting him to stop, not caring the least bit about the splintering wood falling into your hair. the worry and disgust with himself is evident in his eyes, and it tears at your heart so you do your best to comfort him, “s’okay zayne, it’s not a big deal, i promise.”

but his eyes are far away, thick with emotions that make your chest lurch. you hold his face in your hands trying to get him to look at you and not the splintered mess of furniture above you. you lock your knees around his waist. “zayne baby,” you soothe gently, “look at me. look at me please.”

his frantic eyes meet yours under the guidance of your palms. you watch as the storm in his eyes calms down ever so slightly when they meet yours. you brush your thumb against his cheek, whispering, “don’t stop, please. m’so close. i need you.”

but zayne is hesitant, only filled with worry for you, his thrusts halting altogether but still thick and solid in you. his jaw clenches down, “did i hurt you?”

“not at all,” you reassure, hand stroking his anguish laced face, “i don’t care, please make me cum zayne, want to cum for you s’bad.”

zayne continues his thrusts slowly, trying to shake away his anger at himself, “hah – i’m so sorry y/n, i’ll buy you a new one, okay?”

“y-yes whatever you want, but please just fuck me,” you plead, not wanting your climax to slip through your fingers, “please don’t stop.”

your begging is enough to have zayne going feral again, slowly regaining the vigor in his thrusts. his hand dusts the wooden fragments away from your hair. your head sinks deep into the pillow, and falls back to peer at the gaping hole in your bed frame, slightly in awe of his sheer primal strength. it honestly turned you on unbelievably, edging you closer and closer.

“zayne i c-can’t wait anymore, m’sorry m’cumming,” you wail, your nails digging through his back as the ecstasy explodes in your body, from the tips of your curled toes to your fucked out brain. your walls flex against zayne’s vigorous thrusts as he continues to chase his own high, briefly forgetting about the furniture he’d ruined in his brief slip of control.

your eyes pull away from the snowflakes melting on the splintered headboard and fixate on zayne’s eyes as your vision spots with fireworks, his cock pistoning in and out of you relentlessly.

he lifts your thighs up until they press against his chest, your muscles aching in protest. your ankles rest on his shoulders as he drives himself into your guts at this angle. he leans down and your body screams at the stretch in your muscles but he hits you so deeply like this you can’t feel anything but pleasure. he hits your g spot at every thrust, your body barely recovering from the previous orgasm as he steers you straight into another.

“sh-shit,” he groans, his eyes hooded as they bore into yours, “squeezing me so fucking tight, are you trying to milk me? if you keep clenching down like that i’m gonna – fuck!” he swears at your nails digging into his broad back, dragging deep scratches into him as he fucks you roughly through the pleasure.

“p-please zayne i want to feel you,” you cry, “cum inside me, please.” as zayne pounds into you with no semblance of mercy, stars blur your vision, your body doing your best to accommodate him and the endless waves of overwhelming ecstasy. your wet release splashes against your skin with every thrust of his hard muscular body.

“f-fuck i’m gonna cum so deep inside you baby,” he groans with his eyes intently staring into yours, “this pussy is all mine.”

“you’re mine,” his voice is intense, a primal growl of urge and possessiveness, claiming you as his with both words and with his body. he bends back down, pressing a wet open mouthed kiss into you, tongue intertwining with yours needily. both his hands threads through your hair, tugging gently as he rocks into you. he groans into your mouth, body shuddering as he finally releases into you.

zayne rips away from your lips to rock onto his knees before you and carry you onto his lap, wanting to be able to hold you as close as possible as he emptied rope after rope inside of you. the angle allowed him to literally fuck his spend up into you. your legs wrap around his waist and your hands around his neck, unable to even squeal at the sudden movement, only able to drool out against the crook of his neck.

his spend is so deliciously hot inside of you, as your pussy quivers at the warmth, squeezing him even more. he forces his tongue into you again, wanting to be attached to you in every way as he pumps every thick rope into your waiting womb. as he tugs on your bottom lip, body still pressed on top of your legs, cock hitting your sweetest spots, you release all over him again.

your eyes squeeze shut as your cunt pulsates uncontrollably, pulling more and more of his essence into you. zayne’s thick muscles shake under you, the waves of his orgasm rocking his entire body into yours.

you pant as his bounces slow, his unending stamina finally coming to a halt as his sweaty chest heaves against your trembling breasts. he presses gentle kisses to the deep hickeys he’d marked onto your skin, using his broad hands to caress your bruise splotched throat.

the sound of satisfied pants and soft moans blankets the two of you as you snuggle into him, never wanting this moment of post sex bliss to end. your collective spend begins to leak down onto zayne’s lap, your poor cunt physically unable to hold the copious amount of spend inside of you.

as his member softens it begins to slip out of you uncomfortably, so you squeeze in an effort to keep him in you as long as physically possible.

zayne swears, his eyes heated and his gentle grip on your throat tightening just slightly, as he warns you darkly, “behave. unless you want me to take you again.”

and though the idea of him bringing you to orgasm again, and many times after, sounds like heaven on earth, you don’t think your poor cunt can possibly handle any more pleasure for tonight. he chuckles when you ease up, stroking the curvature of your naked spine with his icy fingers.

“i’m sorry about your bed, my love,” he murmurs into the shell of your ear, falling softly backwards onto the bed and guiding you down with him until you rested on top of his hard muscular body, his softening erection still nuzzled deep inside you. he’s careful to lay the two of your joined bodies away from the destroyed headboard, holding your head protectively against his chest. “i will buy you a replacement tomorrow.”

his free hand roams every inch of your body, from twirling the strands of your hair to gripping the supple flesh of your rear.

“s’okay zayne, it’s not necessary,” you murmur sleepily, tracing the contours of his taut muscles, “i don’t need a new frame.” honestly the idea of zayne breaking your bed in pure primal lust was enough to have the heat collecting back in between your thighs.

“i would rather you take me on a date,” you smile into his skin, “since you ruined the one i had today.”

zayne chuckles, the sound so warm and beautiful to your ears you think you might melt right into his solid frame, “i suppose i did. will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

you lean up so that your chin rests on his chest and you can peer at him through your lashes, giving him your best begging face, “only if you beg.”

he looks up at you, the amused lopsided smile on his face just begging to be wiped off, “please? let me take you to dinner.” he lifts your chin off his chest with his index finger, leaning up to press a chaste kiss to your lips. he smirks when you shiver at his fleeting touch, watching you bend to his very will.

“and then after…” he trails off, fingers leaving your face to trace against the side of your exposed breasts, and up to your hard nipples. you bite your lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of moaning out.

as he incessantly fiddles with your skin, you finish his thought with a joke, “after you can come destroy my new bed frame too.”

zayne’s eyes darken with mischief and amusement, “you shouldn't write checks your body can’t cash, my love.”

the filthy promise in his words coupled with his cold fingers pressed deliciously into your pebbled peaks rip the whimper you’d been holding back out of your lips, your cunt clenching in anticipation despite your crippling exhaustion.

but it seems zayne knows your body as well as you do. “but for tonight, just sleep,” he mumbles into the top of your head, pressing his lips into your hair.

“mmm stay here with me, please,” you murmur into his chest, letting the sleep take root in your pleasure numbed mind.

“i’ll be here when you wake up,” he reassures, his voice falling deeper and rougher with exhaustion and hands shifting to cover your bodies with your comforter. his hands then wrap around your waist, holding your body against this, as if scared you’d disappear from his arms. “i won’t ever leave you.”

your heart flutters as the unconsciousness claims you. “g’night zayne,” you mumble, kissing his chest.

“good night my love.”

taglist: @queenashen @kttriangle @lyssa-211 @jeikeun

2K notes · View notes

diedoverahat · 5 months

Text

A Small Favor.

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part one!

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: the stress of his new job is taking a toll on mike. he did such a good job helping you out, so you decide to repay the favor.

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: 18+! MDNI! oral sex (m!receiving), vaginal fingering, handjobs, heavy on the praise, munch!mike always.

authors note: the heavily heavily HEAVILY requested part two is finally done. (quite literally wrote this instead of listening to my bio lecture) i still can't believe that fic has gotten so much traction, i hope this one measures up! it got waaaay more angsty near the end than i thought it would hehe also i decided to include everyone commenting under part one requesting part two in the taglist of this fic so you're welcome lol mwah <3

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It had been one week and three days since the couch incident, which is what you’ve lovingly taken to calling whatever happened between you and Mike. One week and three whole days of Mike dancing around you and the elephant in the room.

The morning after the couch incident he practically ran out the door taking Abby to school when you tried to bring it up. The next time you attempted to have “the talk” he stuttered out an excuse before retreating to the safety of his bedroom, so you gave up.

You know that there’s something between Mike and you that crosses the line of just friends, you both felt something change that night, but getting him to face his feelings and actually admit that will take work.

It's another night of sitting on Mike's couch mulling over what to do about the whole situation when you hear the front door open. You're shocked at first, usually you're asleep by the time Mike gets home. Sure enough when you check the clock it reads 6:33 in bulky red characters. Apparently, time flies when you're obsessing over how to get your friend turned complicated-accidental-one-night-stand to admit they have feelings for you.

You try (and fail) not to listen in on every move Mike makes in the kitchen, fighting to keeping your gaze trained on the TV as he makes his way to the living room.

In your eyes peripheral vision you see him begin to make his way to the couch, but he hesitates when his eyes fall on you. He awkwardly hovers between the two rooms for a few seconds until he takes a breath and walks over to the couch.

Mike sits next to you on the couch with a soft grunt. You wrestle with the need to look at him fully, but you can see out of the corner of your eye he's taken off his work boots and vest. His hair is sticking out at weird angles, curls frizzy and unruly. Your hand twitches against your thigh with the want to run your fingers through them.

You can feel your heart beat faster, struggling to sit still in the thick tension surrounding the two of you. You flick your eyes back to the TV in a vain attempt to focus on anything other than Mike.

Eventually, you lose the fight with your screaming inner monologue and chance a sideways glace in his direction. You're beyond surprised to find him already looking at you.

You stare back, a deer caught in headlights. The dim light coming from the TV highlights his eyes. Mike opens his mouth to seemingly break the silence but he stops himself short of actually speaking. You can see him fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt.

It’s silent for a beat before you decide to speak up.

“Hi.” You say, it's a whisper but you might have well just yelled with how it cuts into the air between the two of you. Mike lets out what might be laugh, it sounds forced. "Hi." He replies stiffly.

"Home later than usual." You point out, fidgeting with your nail. Mike's home a little after 6: everyday, him being home 30 minutes late is odd.

Mike nods, he lets his head fall onto the back of the couch allowing his eyes to slip closed as he does. "Yeah," He replies, the position of his head allows you to get your greedy fill of his sharp jawline. "Jobs been hell."

You don't respond, but you know. Mike's been haggard recently, and not just because of the couch incident. The bags under his eyes have gotten worse, he's been forgetful, not to mention how much more neurotic and paranoid he's been.

Mike has been a wreck these past couple of days, and you want nothing more than to help him feel good. If not for just a few minutes.

You take a chance, and move to let your hand rest over his jean clad thigh. Mike tenses up immediately but doesn’t move to run or push your hand off.

"I could help you,” You say quietly, forcing yourself to keep eye contact. Mike's wide eyes flit rapidly between your eyes and lips. “Help you relax…” You trail off, voice barely above a whisper.

Your offer hangs heavy in the silence that settles. Mike just stares at you, after a while you start to regret making such a bold move. There’s an apology’s on the tip of your tongue, but when you start taking your hand off Mikes thigh he quickly grabs your wrist.

Your eyes snap back up to meet Mikes. His pupils are blown out, black encompassing warm brown. His tongue comes out to swipe across his bottom lip.

“You can...” Mike says simply, guiding your hand back to his thigh. Only he places it much higher up, high enough that you can feel the rough metal of his zipper brushing against the tip of your pinkie. "I need it." He breathes out desperately, eyes big and pleading. You allow yourself a second to just watch Mikes face before you start to move with a purpose.

You snake your hand lower, finding the already hard length of his cock through the rough material of his jeans. Mirroring what he did to you those ten days ago, you start to grind the heel of your hand against him.

Mike shudders, eyes fluttering shut at your touch. You can physically see tension slowly exit his body, leaving him slack and relaxed enough to sink deeper into the couch cushions.

The sight of him at ease and comfortable lights a fire in you. You feel a deep primal need to care for him, to make him feel good.

Patience wearing thin, you reach for the button of his jeans. Even in your arousal induced haste, you take a beat to appreciate the swell of Mike's cock pressing up against the denim. If this was any other time, you'd want to draw it out. To tease Mike until he can't take it anymore, but now is not any other time.

You pop the button to Mike's jeans, dragging the zipper down swiftly and pulling the flaps of his jeans open to frame his lewdly tented boxers. You can hear Mikes breath hitch, unable to keep from squirming under your intense gaze. The thin material leaves nothing to the imagination, the length and girth of him on display. There's a growing wet patch near the tip that's turned the light blue fabric dark and slick. An ache starts deep in your core, anticipation making you feel warm all over.

Slowly, you tug his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free and smack up against his stomach. "Ah! Shit," He hisses, hands balling up into fists by his sides.

Mike's dick is perfect. A nice length and girth you know will have your jaw aching in the best way later. The tip a soft pink color, and steadily leaking a stream of pre-come.

"I want to blow you," You say softly, getting close to Mike so your lips brush over his ear with every word. He shivers, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan. "Will you let me?"

Mike nods his head frantically. "Please," He pants, chest rising and falling quickly. "Please, I want it."

His begging is music to your ears.

You slide off the couch, kneeling between Mike's spread thighs. His straining cock makes your mouth water in anticipation. Holding the base in your hand, you lean forward to lick a board stripe from root to tip. Moaning at the heady taste and velvety feel of him on your tongue.

"God." Mike groans at the feel of your tongue.

You pull off with a slick pop, breaking a small thread of saliva trailing from the head of Mike's dick to your lips with your tongue. You lave over the tip, looking up to find Mike staring at you flushed and dark-eyed. You keep the eye contact as you sink back down, beginning to build up a rhythm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Mike raise his hands before hesitating, and dropping them back down to the couch cushion. You can tell he wants to touch you, but he’s unsure of himself. You take his hands in yours, and place them on the top of your head.

At first he just sort of holds your head, overthinking what to do even with your permission. You’d laugh if you weren’t so busy preening over the feel of his unfairly big hands holding your head delicately, like he might break you.

“Fuck, your mouth…” Mike whispers, his words trailing off as he watches your lips work over his throbbing cock. His confidence grows, finally allowing himself to run his fingers through your hair and gather it in a loose fistful. Your moan of encouragement has him tightening his grip just a touch.

“Jesus,” Mike breathes quietly, you give him a lick underneath the head of his cock in response. "Fuck. Feels so good.”

You hum in response, working Mike's cock faster to draw out more of those whimpers that he can't hold in. Hollowing your cheeks and sinking down towards the circle of your fist still holding the base of his cock with wet, slick slurping sounds.

Mike's noises have gotten progressively louder by the second, you can feel his pulse beating wildly against your tongue through the vein running up his cock. You know he's close, and you're desperate to make him come.

You give him one long languid suck, swirling your tongue over the head as you pull off. His cock is slick with your spit, pulsing warningly. You use the wetness of your saliva as a makeshift lube to start stroking over him slowly.

"How's it feel, Mike?" You purr sensually,

When you sink back down, you don't break eye contact. Mike's eyes roll back into his head, the way his lips part on a sharp gasp, how his back arches off the couch, how his fist tightens even more around your hair.

Above you, Mike grunts, "Oh fuck, baby," His back arches, a rough gasp torn from his throat. The hand in your hair tugs sharply as he chokes out, "Gonna come, shit, gonna fucking come."

Mike shouts hoarsely, hips stuttering as he starts to come. His cock gives one final twitch in your mouth before he pumps load after load of warm come into your mouth. You moan loudly at the taste of his release coating your taste buds, swallowing what pools on your tongue routinely.

You continue to work your mouth over his cock, bringing Mike through the aftershocks of his orgasm, reveling in the broken sounds he keeps making. You lave your tongue over him savoring the taste of him, until he's tugging at your hair to pull you off his sensitive cock.

"C'mere, c'mere." He whines desperately. You’ve barely come up for air before Mike is bodily dragging you into his lap and kissing you like he needs it more than air.

His hand darts down your body and into your sweats. Mike moans in your mouth at the feel of your lacy panties absolutely soaked with your arousal. He wastes no time in finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over it with his thumb drawing a loud moan from your lips.

"Shit," You exclaim, nails digging into Mike's forearm. Your hips buck up into his touch, chasing his touch. "Mike..." You whine, needing him to do more.

"You drive me fucking crazy," He whispers roughly against the side of your face, sliding his pointer finger through the slick wetness of your folds. "I can't stop thinking about you."

“Oh god, Mike.” His fingers feel amazing, rubbing you in all the right places, his words lighting a fire in your stomach.

Mike gathers your wetness before pushing his thick middle finger in your tight heat. Your own moan gets drowned out by his guttural groan at the feeling of you clenching down on his finger.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He moans, thrusting his finger in and out of your aching pussy slowly. "You're so perfect, so perfect for me." Mikes lips trail kisses down your jaw as he adds a second finger into your dripping pussy, brushing against the spot inside you that sends white hot sparks of pleasure zinging up your spine.

"How's that feel?" He asks roughly, throwing your earlier teasing back in your face. You moan wantonly, hips moving grinding down as you ride his fingers in earnest.

Mike angles his hand in a way that lets his fingers thrust into you, hitting your g-spot all while the palm of his hand grinds into your clit

“I’m gonna come, Mike,” You whine desperately, hips stuttering as you tip over the edge. “I’m coming.”

"Yes, come for me." Mike whispers, lips brushing over your cheek.

Your chest heaves as you come down from your orgasm, collapsing against Mikes chest. You're an absolute mess, thighs shaking and sweat dripping down your back. A hiss escapes your mouth as Mike eases his fingers out of your twitching pussy. "Sorry." He whispers softly, kissing the top of your head tenderly.

You allow yourself to lay on his chest with his strong arms around your waist, keeping you close. So close you can feel his warm breath puffing out against your neck.

You don't want to let it, but reality sets in. "Are you gonna run away in the morning?" Your voice is so quiet you don't know if Mike even heard, and you can't force yourself to look up at him.

It takes him a second to register your words, you don't have to look at him to know he's wincing. "I," Mike starts, trying to find the right words. "I don't know." He admits, lips brushing against your hair.

The anger mixed with shame and embarrassment is quick to come, you scoff pushing off Mike's chest so you can go home. "Of course." You spit bitterly.

"Wait!" He rushes out, arms tightening on your waist to stop you leaving.

"What?" You bite out bitterly, whipping your head around to stare daggers at Mike. It backfires on you almost immediately, forcing you to stare into his big sad dumb eyes. He falters, mouth opening and closing as he fumbles to say anything.

You can't help that the look in his eyes tames your anger ever so slightly. The way he's silently pleading with you to stay, his brows drawn in concern and lips pulled down in a frown. Your steely resolve crumbles pathetically.

"What?" You repeat quietly. Mike flounders for a second more, before he finally gives in. "Please stay." He exhales softly, hands planting themselves on your hips, giving them a light squeeze..

Maybe it's your shitty resolve, maybe it's the post orgasm afterglow clouding your judgement, maybe it's the earnest look in Mike's eyes that keeps you from pushing out of his grip and out the door, but you just can't bring yourself to leave.

You stare back at him wrestling with your thoughts, but it's a losing game and you know that.

"Okay," You whisper slowly, settling yourself back down into his lap. "I'll stay."

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*.·:·.✧

i could NOT figure out how to end this, but maybe i could do a part three? would literally anyone want that?

taglist!

@ebodebo @yuenity @mfdxz @mikeschmidtgf @lee-inthebox @sunny-deary @ncqari

extra taglist!

@ballorawan740 @slasherluvrrr @importantgalaxyrunaway @iwantsleepplz @theaterhoefornewsies

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freyito · 6 months

Text

"ꜱᴛᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ" ⨟ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ ᴡ/ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴏᴍʙᴀᴛ ʙᴏʏꜱ

i know i was like just hornyposting and all buuuut i've had such a rough couple of days and everythings really building up. figure i'd sit down and write out my favorite "prompt". hurt/comfort... without the hurt, i guess. too hurt to write the hurt :P. essentially what the boys would do when your feeling down and ask to stay with em, of course. is this what im calling the boys now? yes. its MY fic and MY comfort, i get to choose the silly little name for my boyfriends.

cw: gn reader, angsty undertone, comfort, just fluff, bonus characters!, not proofread

⎯ Liu Kang

You do not even need to speak. Liu Kang can see it. You are hurt, near breaking. You trail behind him all day, head down. You actively seek his touch, small things, reaching for his hand, brushing your fingers against his bicep. You are afraid to say it, and yet, he knows.

That night, before he leaves your room to attend to his duties as Earthrealm's protector, you finally speak up. Those three simple words, so quiet, so soft. He does not hesitate to turn around. He is logical, he likes to think, but you pull him in. Within moments, he is in bed with you, his arms wrapped around you firmly. He presses his forehead against your cheek, and whispers,

"I will not leave you, my dear, I am here. Forevermore."

⎯ Bi-Han

Bi-Han knows you almost better than the back of his hand. However, he prefers to let you wallow in peace. He is afraid of pushing past your boundaries, and as such, he is far more distant. Yet, he worries. He worries with his whole heart. However, he cannot let it show. So he is as cold as ever, in front of the Lin Kuei. Strong, vigilant, unyielding.

Tonight, he does not let you go. He misses you so, and you have no need to tell him what you need. It is tender. He pulls you on top of him, holding you close by the waist. And yet, you still speak. And he listens. His gaze softens, tremendously. He looks as if he may be on the verge of tears. His voice steady, as he speaks, yet his face betrays his tone,

"There is no possibility of leaving you, no, not even in death."

⎯ Kuai Liang

Kuai does not know what ails you- but he must. He must know. You have done well to shy away from him, but he is hot on your trail. He knows that hollow look, devoid of emotion, too afraid to show any. Because if you show one, you show all. He does not smother you, no, but he does question you.

The questions stop at night. It is quiet. He is afraid of pushing you further. So Kuai Liang leaves you alone in the bed, with one last kiss on your forehead. Yet, he stands in the doorway. He waits. You speak. And he listens. All you say is one word. He retreats back in bed with you, pushing you closer to his neck. He runs his hands through your hair, calming you down. To still your beating heart. And he speaks with conviction,

"I am here, as long as you need, forever, if you so wish, my love."

⎯ Johnny Cage

Perhaps, Johnny is too much for you recently. And that's okay! He knows his limits. Yet, he finds himself seeking you out. He misses your warmth, your smile, you. He knows that he can be loud, that he can be a lot. And he's always given you space. Yet that look you hold, it is miserable. And he knows exactly what you feel. He follows you around, as if a lost dog, the entire day. He wants you to have space, but he wants you to say those words.

And you do, that night. Finally, those words escape your lips. Just what Johnny wanted to hear. He's got you wrapped up in the blankets, pulling you up into his chest. His hand rests on the back of your head, gently rubbing his thumb into your hair. He presses a kiss to your forehead, and whispers, gently, almost out of character,

"It's alright, sweetheart, I'm not leaving, not tonight, not tomorrow, not anytime."

⎯ Kenshi Takahashi

You cannot hide that sinking pain within your heart, Kenshi can hear the melancholy dripping within your words. He can hear it in your breath, your actions. How your footsteps drag, how slow you walk. He can see it, too, do not be fooled. You stay close, unnecessarily close, you look up at him with such heavy eyes, you stay quiet. He knows. He is waiting for you to act on it, to act on the voice he hears at the very edge of his mind. He is a telepath, you must remember.

And so, when you speak your mind finally, he is all too eager to make sure you know he won't leave. He pulls you up onto his chest, his heartbeat even, soft, and regular. The moment is tender, and he lets your words hang in the air. Silence covers you two like a blanket, comforting. And finally, as he runs his hand down your sides, squeezing your waist gently, he speaks,

"Do not be afraid to tell me what you want, my heart. I will stay close, I will stay."

⎯ Kung Lao

Kung Lao does not need words to stay by you. Night and day. He is glued to your side, trying to cheer you up with his charm. He does not give you enough room to sulk. He's dragging you along with him, even if it's something as simple as watching him train. To keep you at ease, to put a smile on your face. He is making sure everything he does has that effect.

Yet, you still ask him to stay when night comes. He does not deny it, and he pushes himself closer. As if you were not in his arms already. But he makes sure you know he heard you, he squeezes you, and lets out a soft sigh. There is nothing that will take him away from you, and you must know,

"I won't. Nope, not even tomorrow. I'm here as long as you want me here."

⎯ Raiden

You cannot keep Raiden away from you. The minute your expression is somber, he is following close behind you. He does not ask, or interrogate you. But he follows. He is on the lookout for any sort of thing that could have stolen his light from him. What has gotten to you, what dares rip the spark of his life from you? He does not know how to ask you, he is afraid that perhaps it is him.

But it is not. Your hand pulls him back to you by his wrist as you speak. And he obliges. He does not know what has made you feel this way, but he does know, that maybe even this one night will be enough to bring your smile back. He will stay here, as long as you need, as long as he needs. And he makes it known,

"Oh, my light, nothing can keep me away from you."

⎯ Zeffeero

Zeffeero is on you the minute your face so much as drops. Perhaps he is a stubborn lover, too prideful to admit that he cares deeply for you. But he cannot handle loosing your presence, his sunshine. He wants your attention, but does not say so outright. He will do that little thing with the water manipulation and the shapes to amuse you... without you asking. And when that does not bring the smile back to your face, he does not know what else to do.

His heart near stops when you tell him to stay that night. He feels so stupid to have skipped over that part. But he accepts. He tries to show restraint, however he is by you within a matter of seconds. He places a kiss on your jaw, before hiding his face in the crook of your neck. His arms wrap around you, keeping you close. Just as he wanted to the entire day, and he finally speaks,

"Do not scare me so, my dear. I want to keep you safe, and I'll stay until you no longer want me by your side."

⎯ Tomas Vrbada

Your distance is noticeable. However, Tomas does not act upon it. He believes that you need the space you have put between you and him and everyone else. So he does not question it. However, there is a void where you once were. His world fills with the same emptiness and sorrow you felt at your absence. He cannot help but seek you out in the final hours of the dawn. He is afraid, once more. He does not want to pressure you, so he turns his back to you.

You surprise him with your words, he near spins on his heels, a wide and beautiful grin gracing his face. He makes no effort to hide this. His happiness, his light has asked him to stay, and he would be a fool to deny them such a request. He practically throws himself back onto the bed, and wraps his big arms around you. He presses his forehead against yours, and holds your gaze. He speaks, quietly, softly, and you can even hear his smile in his voice,

"I am here for you, Drahoušek. I always will be. Do not be afraid to come to me."

⎯ Baraka

Oh, how Baraka feared this day would come. You have turned your back to him, the air around you rife with despair. He is not afraid that you suddenly dislike him. He is afraid of loosing your positivity. One of the very few things he has held onto because of his affliction. You make him forget all that is bad within this world, within him. And now, there is an absence. He does not know what to do.

But that night, you guide him. Through his own sulking, your words pull him away. Yes. He will gladly stay. If that is what you want. If that is what it takes. He keeps his distance, still. He will always be afraid of his infection spreading. But he sleeps in the same room. And just before you drift off into sleep, you hear him,

"I cannot lose you. Please, tell me when, and I will be there."

⎯ Geras

Geras has reason to believe the reason you have pulled away from him is because of his absence. Because of him. Human emotions are a strange thing, they are intricate, even more so than the dozens of timelines he has watched over. Oh so suddenly, you are turned away from him, too caught up within your own thoughts to voice what has been troubling you. Perhaps it is the fact that he does not have nearly enough time for you. That is the answer he settles on.

Before he can leave you that night, your pleas make him stop. They make him understand, even for a second. He was so sure you were asleep. And yet, you are awake, asking him to stay. He is unsure what to do. But, he must give his love what they want. What they deserve. So, he leans in, and places a gentle kiss on your cheek. His words follow soon after,

"I will always be here, my duty is important, but so are you. Know this, I am always watching over you."

⎯ Syzoth

You've ran off. And Syztoh does not know what to do with himself. He paces, he fidgets, he waits. He must see you again. But you were so hurt beforehand, and he does not know why. You have withdrawn into yourself, without a word. And Syzoth does not know how to comfort you. He knows you are feeling down, horrible even. Yet, he feels as if he has ran you off. His insecurities well up within his mind as he waits. And waits.

And the time comes where you ask him, you reach for him. Your voice quivers. Oh my, how could he have let this happen. He pulls you in, almost bringing you down to the ground. He wraps himself around you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His nerves calm, in that moment. Muffled, he speaks, his words true and clear, if not a little shaky,

"I waited, my love, and I will stay. I will always be here. Every moment, every moment you need me."

⎯ Havik

Havik is apprehensive. He does not quite understand what to do in this situation. With you, his lover, in front of him, a mess, voice hoarse, your emotions addle your mind. He looks at you dumbfounded. He reaches for you, but his hand does not meet your shoulder. Now, you feel as if you are miles away from him. Space. That is what he understands, now.

But, the space he has given you is broken that night. You find him in bed, intertwining his fingers with yours. His scarred flesh does not scare you, as much would believe. His eyes are warm, peaceful for once. The words are on the tip of your tongue, yet you do not need to speak. Havik answers, regardless,

"Finally. Do not run from me like that again, I do not mean to leave you alone."

⎯ Shao Kahn

To return home, where you are not waiting for Shao in the kitchen, it is a nightmare. The worst is the first thing that runs through his mind. You are lost, perhaps. Taken. But he finds you, safe and well. Back to him, on the edge of the bed. He does not speak, but he lets his presence be known. He lays down on the bed, facing you, and simply watches.

Until it is time for you to speak, you look at him with such sad eyes. He is there. You do not have to ask, for you know the answer. But you ask, anyways. Shao simply reaches a hand out to you, and pulls you back in bed gently. Tonight, he can. Maybe not tomorrow morning, but tonight, he can. And he will,

"I will always stay by your side. I am here to keep you safe, do not forget it."

⎯ Shang Tsung

Shang Tsung pampers you, right out of the gate. He hates to see you like this, so sullen, so quiet. It is his goal to pull you out of this feeling. Even if it hurts his wallet. And yet, it seems his plan falls short. He is disheartened, to say the least. Perhaps he might sulk, as well. But he doesn't, or he tries not to, anyways. He simply follows you around, now. Trying to lift your spirits.

And that only comes when night falls, nestled underneath the covers. Shang Tsung is still close. Extremely close. Yet, you can't help but ask, regardless. And he listens. He chuckles softly, and pulls you in for a quick peck on the lips. For a moment, he stares into your eyes, rolling your words over in his mind. His tone is sly, but his words are, for once, kind,

"There you are, my darling. Of course I'll stay. Who would I be if I didn't? I'll stay forever, if I must."

⎯ Reiko

Reiko wants to be soft with you, and yet, he can't find a way through to you in this moment. He does not understand why you've withdrawn from him. Why you are so somber. He decides that it is space you need, not him. So, he gives you exactly what he believes. Yet, he still keeps an eye on you. He wants to make sure you are safe, regardless. Even as you sulk.

You find him once more at the end of the day, laying in bed. The idea of him, of Reiko, relaxing, seems so odd. Yet, he is lounging. He is waiting. So you speak, and all he can do is look at you. He gestures towards the bed, and you do so. Laying down, he holds you close. Properly. His arms wrapped around the small of your back, your forehead against his chin. And he speaks, finally,

"If I am to say no, then I would rather be decapitated by General Shao himself. Do not ever hesitate to ask, you know I will."

⎯ Erron Black

Outlawin' and Gunslingin' is a hard trade. What's even harder is making sure you are happy. And now, you are pulling yourself away from Erron. This mood you're in... he's going to get you to snap out of it, dammit. And he tries. He tries real damn hard. He flaunts off his skills, just how quick and precise he can fan the hammer, maybe take down some poor bird from the sky. Yet, you still look at him, devoid of emotion.

Erron has all but given up until you find him in the bed that night. Somehow, you look more of a mess then before. And he just can't forgive himself for it. Yet, you still ask. He's dumbfounded, really. He doesn't know what to say. But, his body knows what to do. Absentmindedly, he pulls you into the bed by your hand. He keeps you close, yet still leaves distance between your bodies. His hand finds your cheek and caresses it with his thumb. Finally, he's found his words, and so he speaks, for you,

"Ya ain't gotta worry about me leavin', pumpkin. I'll stay riiiiiiight here, long as ya need."

⎯ Takeda Takahashi

You're quiet. You're so damn quiet and it's almost irritating for Takeda. He can't get to you, he can't break through this heavy, melancholy air around you. He's following you around, regardless. He's going to find out why you're acting like this, and if it's because of someone, he won't mind sweating a little. But it isn't. It isn't cause of anyone, it isn't cause of him. It's cause of you. And now, he truly doesn't know what to do. So he backs off.

Until you find him once more, seeking his attention. His touch. His comfort. Takeda doesn't deny this, as you slink into bed, behind him. You tap him on the shoulder gently, and he turns his head back to you. Before he can speak, you ask. The lightbulb goes off in Takeda's head, and suddenly, he feels horrible. You didn't need him following you around like a bodyguard all day, nor did you need the bombardment of questions. You simply needed him. So, he responds,

"Don't scare me like that, dammit. Of course I'll stay, but just... yeah, yeah. I'll stay."

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wttcsms · 7 months

Text

as it was ; suguru geto.

pairing suguru geto x f!reader word count 4.2k synopsis suguru comes back, only to find that you've been waiting and wanting this whole entire time. content contains modern no curses!au, gojo's sister!reader, brother's best friend, creampie, pet names (good girl, baby), most of the fic is geto's introspection, possessive sex, mutual pining/longing author’s notes im not even horny for geto like that, but i wanted to write angsty smut abt spreading ur legs for a guy that left u & who else is better for this than geto <3

First words are always a bit tricky to get right, especially whenever he has to take into account that he essentially ghosted you a couple of years ago, after taking your virginity no less, and now he’s back in the godforsaken city he swore he was never coming back to, and he’s just at a loss about what to say and more importantly, how to say it.

He supposes an apology, for starters, would be a good first move. And maybe it would be, could be, should be, if only he wasn’t him and you weren’t you, and the two of you were not something so confusing and intricate that it’s hard to put into words and harder still to describe with emotions. The two of you are something raw and painful, both of you taking turns playing both sadist and masochist.

Even to himself, the extent of your relationship sounds twisted, but there was always an underlying purity to it, something that justified its existence. To this day, Suguru Geto is certain that you’re the only person who ever loved him for him, with a love so pure and just that he tries to hide it from everyone else before they can get their filthy hands on it and taint it, twist it into something it’s not.

Sorry I left won’t cut it, and Geto doesn’t even bother trying to come up with any other variations of apology because it’s not necessarily your forgiveness that he’s come back for. The opportunity to say “I’m sorry” and have it actually mean something has long since passed. All that’s left to say is the truth for why he left, which for some odd reason, seems even harder to do than his original disappearing act.

I missed you — that’s a slight improvement. It’s the truth, if not an understatement of it. He doesn’t regret leaving Tokyo, he just regrets leaving you. Which he could say, if you would actually open the door to face him.

He figures it’s what he deserves. He deserves worse, if he’s going to be entirely honest. He deserves a slap to the face, or a kick to his balls, or for you to tell him that you hate him, that you never want to see him ever again.

He knocks on your apartment door, harder this time, as if it’s something urgent. And maybe it is. He’s felt more like himself than he ever has after moving, but the solitude of the countryside got boring soon after, leaving him only with the ghosts from his past to keep him company. He thinks if he doesn’t see you, in the flesh, he might actually go insane.

He knocks again, only to be met with more silence and a door that’s starting to become more of a familiar sight than he would like. Fuck, what is he even doing? Showing up here was a bad idea to begin with, and it’s only seemingly getting worse by every agonizing second that ticks by. Even if you do open the door, there’s always the chance that you won’t let him get a single word in — that’d be the smart choice, anyway.

And you’re a bright girl, don’t get him wrong. Something about the Gojo bloodline makes your family incapable of producing anything less than prodigal sons and daughters. If you’re not proof of this fact, there’s your older brother.

Yet another reason why showing up here is such a shitty plan. Satoru will catch wind of his visit, and when he does, he’ll show no restraint in showing Suguru what all of his private boxing lessons are good for. A broken nose and missing tooth would be a fair exchange to see you for at least a second, though. A tradeoff that he doesn’t need to debate on.

You have to leave your apartment eventually. Suguru dances with the idea of just making camp outside your door and waiting for your stubbornness to fizzle out. It’ll be embarrassing, and your neighbors will surely have something to say about it, but it would be well worth it.

He hears the ding! of the elevator opening and human reflex causes his head to turn at the sound of the noise.

Oh.

The world becomes contradictory at this very moment. The air suddenly stills, but the atmosphere itself seems to come alive at the same time. Stagnant air, bursting with electricity and something awe-inspiring. Everything seems to slow down, but suddenly he’s acutely aware of just how alarmingly fast his heart is beating. It’s been a while since he’s last seen you, not even bothering to check up on your social media because he knows one DM from you would have him crossing the ocean to be back by your side.

The reason why you weren’t answering your door was simply because you weren’t even home. Relief floods his body, makes him less tense, only for him to stiffen up once more whenever his eyes trail over to the warm body awfully close to you.

Or maybe it’s the other way around, since you’re the one clinging onto him.

You and Kento Nanami both look like you two have seen a ghost, and all things considered, you wouldn’t be wrong.

“What are you doing here?” You’re the first to speak, with Nanami’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and it’s this closeness that’s the only thing Suguru finds himself able to focus on. It’s been years. He shouldn’t feel this way. You’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s your life. He’s the one that chose to walk out of it, anyway.

“I just wanted to talk,” he answers. Which isn’t a lie. He wanted to talk. He wanted to fight and make up and fuck your brains out and beg for forgiveness and cook you breakfast in the morning and warm your bed, amongst other things, too. But, he figures the condensed version of his list will do, especially considering that three’s a crowd, and most of his itinerary was for your ears only. “Did I come at a bad time?”

You bite your bottom lip, slowly removing yourself from Nanami’s grip. Nanami looks at you first, concern evident in his warm eyes, eyes that you wish were just a bit darker and colder, so that they would be the ones you’re so accustomed to drowning in.

You like Nanami well enough. He’s kind and looks out for you, and sometimes you even consider making a move on him first since he’s too much of a gentleman to cross any boundaries. Then again, you don’t think Nanami sees you as anything more than a little sister, and the last time you fucked one of your brother’s best friends…

It’s why you just give Nanami a smile, one that tells him that you’ve got this under control. His facial expression doesn’t give any indication of what he’s thinking, but the glare he sends Suguru’s way says enough.

Suguru can appreciate the fierce protectiveness Nanami has towards you, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. Especially when it’s Suguru that’s considered to be the threat.

You move to unlock your door once Nanami makes his reluctant exit, and when you enter your apartment, you conveniently don’t shut the door. Suguru trails behind you.

You turn on the lights, your living room and kitchen blending together in an open-floor plan, bathed in the stark, white lights hanging from your high ceilings. Your apartment, at least what Suguru can see of it, is tastefully decorated. Courtesy of your mother, he’s sure. He would ask about her, ask how she’s doing, but he figures now’s just not the right timing.

It doesn’t seem to be the right timing for anything he wants to say. He wants to mention that he’s thought about you, thought about reaching out — sometimes to explain himself, and other times just to discuss the mundane aspects of life — but he thinks that would be even worse than apologizing. It would be cruel of him to dangle this information in your face, haunt you with the knowledge that all this time, he’s truly been avoiding you. Knowing you, you would have questioned him on why he didn’t bother reaching out, and he would have been stuck admitting that it’s simply because he was too scared that you wouldn’t answer.

“Want a drink?” You ask him, back facing him as you peer into your fridge. He catches a glimpse of shiny glass bottles, water bottled in Europe and with the optimal pH balance, he’s certain of it. His throat feels a bit dry, but he tells you no.

“I drank enough water on the drive up here,” he tells you, which again, isn’t a lie. Suguru feels a bit pleased with himself, even if it is a bit narcissistic of himself for expecting a pat on the back for doing something so simple. He supposes it’s just because he’s gotten so used to never being honest with himself — or others, for that matter — so his current streak for telling the truth seems like something to celebrate.

“I didn't drink enough.” You say, and he can’t tell if it’s alcohol you’re talking about or water. You’re a lightweight; yet another trait that seems to be passed down the Gojo family. That explains Nanami escorting you home, then.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?” Suguru helps himself to taking a seat on the white couch in your living room. Because there’s no walls separating the two different spaces, he can still look at you from this position as you rest your elbows on your kitchen’s island, as if needing the support.

“If you wanted me to know, you’d let me know.” It’s the way you say it that reveals that this comment isn’t made just in reply to his current question, but for everything else Suguru was going to follow it with. Don’t you want to know where I went? Don’t you want to know why I left?

It’s amazing what humans are capable of. Nearly six years since the two of you have lost contact — since Suguru broke all contact — and yet, you can still read him just as well as he can read you. You see him for what he is, not whatever mask he wants to disguise himself with, and it’s scary, he thinks. Scary to be seen by someone. And nice. It’s nice to have someone know you’re a monster and still not run away.

He’s not quite sure what that says about you.

“It’s a bit of a funny story.” He says, trying to steer this conversation to a more lighthearted tone even though the two of you are nowhere close to feeling light and the jury’s still out on whether or not Suguru Geto has a heart. “You don’t need the reminder, but don’t ever tell Mei Mei a secret you want to keep.”

The mention of your shared friend — if Mei Mei can even be considered one — makes the corners of your pretty mouth tilt upward. Mei Mei was born with a silver spoon, but the running joke is that it wasn’t in her mouth because she bartered with the doctor and blackmailed him into giving her a gold one. If you have the funds, Mei Mei has the information you’re looking for.

She’s the only number Suguru saved in his phone contacts, and it’s only because he knew that if he needed anyone else’s number, Mei Mei would readily give it after her Venmo request goes through.

“Of course she would tell you my address.” You say, but you don’t sound upset at all. Just amused, like this whole situation is something endearing, and you don’t harbor any ill feelings towards either of them, even though both Suguru and Mei Mei technically violated your trust. Suguru more so than Mei Mei, but, well, semantics.

“Aren’t you mad?” The “at me” is unspoken.

“Mei Mei is a free spirit.” It’s a joke, and Suguru makes a sound from his throat that resembles a laugh. Mei Mei may do whatever she wants, but nothing about her comes free.

He knows you know what he was actually asking. He’s been trying to gauge your reaction to everything he says, trying to see if you hate his guts or not.

“I missed you.” You tell him suddenly, and while he’s imagined those words coming out of your mouth, it still shakes him up a bit. It’s hard constantly posturing as if he’s cool and collected, nothing ever bothering him, his body and expression never betraying him. But it’s his heart that gives him away, and it’s heart that you hold, and no matter what face he puts on, he knows that you’ll know what the words he won’t say are.

“Don’t apologize.” You continue, closing the distance between you two and opting to take a seat next to him. There’s about six inches of space separating you two. The distance shapeshifts in his mind, sometimes becoming mere millimeters and sometimes feeling more like there’s an ocean between you both.

The sorry was on the tip of his tongue and it traveled all the way there from his heart. It would be a waste of a journey for him to not say it, but he’s certain the apology would do more harm than good, even if it is genuine.

Suguru stands out against the stark white of your apartment. Your mom likes the aesthetic of it, and since it’s your parents’ money, you merely shrugged and let her do whatever she wanted. In his black pants and black sweatshirt, he looks almost out of place in your home.

The thought that he doesn’t belong makes your heart hurt more than the burn of the alcohol from tonight going down your throat.

You don’t waste time wondering where Suguru went because for all intents and purposes, you never even knew where he came from to begin with. You knew him since you were children; your favorite out of all your brother’s friends because it was always Suguru who let you tag along and trail behind them. No one really knows much about Suguru’s life, his past, present, and future all a big blur to anyone but himself. From the way he slowly turns to face you, dark eyes meeting yours, you start to think of the possibility that maybe not even Suguru is an open book with himself.

Suguru looks like a shadow, standing out from the brightness of everything that is surrounding him in your living room. You want to ask him the questions that plague your mind ever since he’s been gone, but you don’t, because you’re scared he is a shadow. One wrong move, and he just disappears from your grasp once again.

There are the hard-hitting questions, of course. The ones that search for why he left and why he told no one and why he didn’t bother taking you. Then there are the gentler ones that would still require him to rip himself open and bare himself to you, things like how’s your new place and meet anyone interesting? You feel his gaze travel from your eyes to the slope of your nose and the apples of your cheek, downward to your lips. The intensity of his stare makes you nervously lick your lips, a tiny, quick action, but his eyes greedily take in the sight of the tip of your pink tongue casually making an appearance, only to retreat behind your pretty pink, glossed lips.

“Are you mad that I came back?” Suguru finds himself taking the role of interviewer, since it’s evident to the two of you that you know better than to bother asking him any questions. He feels like you’re treating him a bit like a stray cat, all cautious and scared of provoking him or forcing him to run away. He wants to tell you that this is not the case and that he actually plans on staying this time around, but he hasn’t entirely convinced himself yet, so he’s not going to break your heart with any more empty promises.

“No. Like I said, I missed you.” He wants to be able to blame your honesty on account of you being drunk, but he knows that you’ve just always been honest to a fault.

“You shouldn’t.” He tells you this, and you scoff. Probably because Suguru is the last person who should be giving any sort of life advice.

“Guess what I’m thinking.” You say, and Suguru feels something come alive from within, like he’s been frozen for the past six years, and the more he gets to bask in the warmth of your presence, the more he starts to defrost. There’s not a single hint of anger or malice in your tone, just the familiar, lighthearted, girlish tone of yours.

“That you think I’m a creep and want me to get the hell out.”

You frown, rolling your eyes, tucking your feet beneath you to get more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m thinking about that last time you told me I shouldn’t be doing something.” There’s a gleam in your bright eyes that clearly spells out desire, and Suguru is very, very close to defrosting. In fact, there’s a heat that’s beginning to settle deep in him, and maybe he should know better than to indulge in it, but it’s been years, and you are sitting here in front of him, pretty and fresh, and his hindbrain takes the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he does know, and he knows that you know that he knows, just as you seemingly know everything about him. Maybe not about his childhood — or lack, thereof — or what he’s been up to, but you know the important stuff. The things that make him tick and all the words he fails to say. Three words. Three words that he doesn’t think he’ll ever muster enough courage to say to you, but from the look in your eyes, you already know.

“I’ll jog your memory.”

And suddenly, your lips are pressed against his. You’re kissing him, and like the lovesick fool he is, he’s kissing you back. It’s pure muscle memory, maybe even animal instinct. He thought that leaving Tokyo was the right thing to do, and for the most part, it was, but with your lips perfectly melding with his own, he thinks that leaving was stupid.

Making out is such a juvenile ordeal, but he relishes in it because Suguru feels like he’s spent most of his youth trying to outrun it, and now he’s trying to take advantage of what his boyhood should have consisted of. The kisses are now bordering on sloppy and hazy, and somehow, you end up straddling his lap. He’s hard, and he should be embarrassed at popping a boner just from wet kisses, but it’s you. You have an effect on him that no one else does. His Achilles. The one weakness only he can feel.

Suguru knows that he is not a good person because a good person doesn’t go behind their best friend’s back and fucks their little sister. He had told, thirty minutes before introducing you to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, that the two of you shouldn’t be doing that. Suguru knows that he is not a good person because he cannot be any happier at the fact that history has a funny way of repeating itself. Six years later, and the two of you are back in a similar position.

You’re starting to rut against him, your dress riding up your thighs and exposing more of your skin to him. Suguru helps himself to handfuls of your soft flesh, squeezing in a manner that can’t be defined as gentle, but he loves how you take him as he is without any sort of complaint. All you do is let out a low moan, your pantyclad pussy grinding against his equally clothed bulge.

Your movements are a bit desperate, frenzied. You’re getting lost in pleasure already, and he hasn’t even done much to elicit such a reaction. The idea that only he can get you this riled up with doing so little makes him impossibly harder, and he looks down, realizing that you’re so soaked, your panties are practically translucent.

The two of you have the option of taking things slow, but neither of you want to do that. When you spend some time starving, you don’t savor the meal, you scarf it down.

That’s what the two of you are — hungry, greedy — as you both hastily strip as much clothing as you can bear to spend time getting out of. Your minidress is tossed carelessly on the living room floor, and Suguru can only bother with unzipping his pants and pushing down his briefs just enough to free his cock.

The intrusion of the tip of his cock entering your wet, needy cunt is less of an intrusion and instead akin to something rightfully returning to where it belongs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he relishes this feeling. This wholeness, this concept of being complete.

The inviting warmth of your pussy makes him want to cum right on the spot, but he can’t waste it. He’s spent years pining after you, missing you, and he wants you to feel like the time apart had been worth it.

“I missed you.” This time it’s him who makes the admittance. You tighten up at this confession, and it evokes a low groan from him, almost as if you had forced the sound to come from all the way down his throat.

“I know.” You gasp out, not able to speak clearly with how deep Suguru is hitting. Your living room is filled with the wet clicks and slaps of skin against skin, your juices coating his cock every time he pulls out.

The vein on the underside of his cock rubs against your walls, and the slight curve of it enables him to hit that gummy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You’ve never given much thought to cocks, but you know that Suguru’s is the prettiest of them all.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He grunts out, lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck before biting down; gentle enough not to draw blood, sharp enough to still leave a mark. You rock against him, hips moving in tandem with his thrusts, the steady hum of pleasure continuously building up in your lower belly. You are dizzy with pleasure; blanketed in it, being spoon fed it.

He doesn’t need you to say it to know it’s true, but you moan it out anyway, both to appease him and because there’s a sort of pride in knowing that you belong to him.

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” The words are separated, punctuated, by the little gasps for air you give out because with every word, he thrusts up even harder, hitting that special spot that will have you cumming all over him, making a mess.

“Yeah?” It comes out sounding like a shaky breath, and he’s close, you know it, you can feel it.

Calloused pads belonging to fingers much larger than yours are being pressed against your clit. You’re soaked, and the dryness of his hands combining with your overall slickness gives way to delicious friction that has you cumming with his name as a broken moan filtering through your swollen lips.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He mutters, relishing in the way your walls tighten, spasm, clenching and unclenching sporadically as your body loses its energy and you press yourself up against his chest.

He follows after just a few more sloppy thrusts, the last one forcing himself as deep inside of you as possible. His cum is hot and thick, and it’s filling you to the brim. If he pulls out now, it’ll flood out of you, and the thought is both sad and hot at the same time. You want his cum inside of you, to serve as a reminder that this is real, that he’s real.

But seeing the physicality of him staking his claim, white seed dripping out of you, turns you on. Him, too, with the look of fascination and boyish wonder he has in his eyes as he stares at how the two of you are connected.

Before he can bother with confirming a round two, a sharp knock on the door has the two of you comically jumping a bit in surprise, both of you glancing at the door and then at each other.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!” You freeze.

Satoru.

Suguru wants to try to calm you down, whisper to you that everything’s going to be fine, but the anger laced in his best friend’s — former best friend’s — voice is enough to make him freeze up, too. Not just his icy tone, but what he says.

“I know you’re back, too, Suguru.”

#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #one shot #jjk x reader #jjk smut #angst #drabble #imagine

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 25 days

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Jealous wanda?

The way this is like... over a month old... I'm sorry for waiting so long!!! Here's a lot of words to make up for it, this lowkey turned into a short fic haha ♡

I think people get jealousy and possessiveness confused sometimes, jealousy happens when you don't already have something and you want it, and possessiveness is when you do already have something and protect it.

So, for the sake of wording, we'll do a jealous Wanda before you guys inevitably get together. (I would never write something where you and Wanda don't end up together because then what's the point. Anyways, I digress)

I like the idea of this jealousy stemming from a crush, with Wanda newly integrated with the Avengers after AOU. You're Natasha and Tony's number one friend, confident, and trusted member of the team. So you're high up in the ranks, and so fucking friendly.

You immediately make Wanda feel welcome, and she's a little awestruck at someone so high in rank paying attention to her, making sure her room is comfortable and including her in conversation during dinners and such.

The crush sneaks up on Wanda, and she realizes her feelings for you after a few weeks. She's seated on the couch next to you at one of Stark's parties, and your thigh is pressed warmly against hers. At one point, you make a joke. While everyone is laughing, she chuckles quietly, and you turn to look at her.

Your eyes are shining, a soft smile playing on your lips as you watch her for a moment. Your cheeks are slightly flushed from the alcohol you both have been consuming all evening, and Wanda's feels her heart stutter as her breath catches. then, she realizes that she has feelings for you... and cue the angsty thoughts that pop up in her head.

You remain oblivious to her feelings, too busy fighting your own. Obviously you like Wanda, her calm demeanor and the way she manages to say the right thing all the time. Her strong, silent confidence and unwavering loyalty to you the team has you falling for her every day. Not to mention her auburn hair, sparkling green eyes with smudged eyeliner that make your heart skip a beat whenever they look at you, or the way her vanilla perfume lingers on your clothes...

Cue the jealousy.

Given that you're so friendly and extroverted, you get along with everyone. One night during a movie night, you're cuddled up next to Natasha, and although Wanda rationally knows that you've been best friends for years, she can't help the jealousy that creeps into her mind.

She can't even pay attention to the movie, sneaking glances at you and wishing it was her stroking your hair and her thigh with your hands on it. She's so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she doesn't see Natasha's watchful eyes taking in the scarlet wisps circling her fingertips or the small smirk that plants itself on her face when she realizes what's happening.

One morning she sees you and Tony making pancakes for the whole team, your face bright and voice melodic as you sing along to the songs softly playing in the kitchen. She smiles at the sight, before immediately wishing it was her.

Visions of dancing around the kitchen with you, making you her favorite dish, Wanda's hands holding your waist and brushing against you as you move in tandem, your bodies tuned in to each other. Your eyes locked on hers, smiles directly at her... only her.

Wanda has to leave and collect herself, coming back to the kitchen only once the rest of the team arrives and stuttering in front of you. You wonder if she's sick, her face flushed and her eyes glancing anywhere but you. She refuses to let you near her that morning, her emotions getting the better of her as the need to push you against the nearest wall and leave dark hickeys up the side of your neck consumes her.

One time, after a long night of games with the team, Wanda retreats to her room and makes use of the vibrator she'd bought. It wasn't really her fault, you just looked so appealing in your sweatpants and tight compression shirt, bending over the pool table more times that she could count. Your fingers were quick during card games, Wanda's eyes catching them and wondering what else they were capable of.

And then... it finally happens. The confession.

You're at a party, after a successful mission that Wanda had been a big part of. Her first time truly working with the team and feeling like one of the good guys, and making a difference. You rarely left her side, knowing how quickly she gets overwhelmed at big events with a lot of unknown people.

At one point, some girl comes up to the pair of you, barely giving Wanda a glance before immediately gushing about how cool and awesome you were, her hand resting on your forearm as she chatted your ear off.

Glancing uncomfortably to the side, you can visibly see Wanda retreat behind her walls, her face falling and scarlet wisps wrapping around the rim of her glass. Her green eyes, normally sparkling up at you, are locked on her drink, watching the liquid as she slowly swirls it.

You don't know what to do, and the girl is so fucking insistent on talking to you. You just nod along with a small smile plastered on your lips as you keep glancing towards Wanda.

The girl eventually asks you to dance, her body much closer than it was before, and you finally see Wanda look up.

She seems to snap, her green eyes blazing coldly when she looks at you, and you can't help but feel equally as aroused as you are afraid. Wanda doesn't look at the girl, simply placing her glass down on the counter and grabbing your wrist in a firm grip, pulling you from the room.

She doesn't say anything, leading you through the halls until you finally reach her room. You barely have any time to look around, having never seen the inside of her room, before she's locking the door and pressing you up against it.

"You're not hers," Is all she can manage to say, and you nod, distracted with the way her body is fully against yours. Her hands grip the collar of your shirt, the fabric wrinkling slightly. You finally manage to form a coherent thought, a smile breaking across your face as you realize what's happening.

"Do you, like me?" You ask, and Wanda scoffs, finally looking away. Her hands loosen, as if she's realizing what position the two of you were in, before she answers.

"Yeah, I do. And it's consuming my every waking moment. I mean," She gestures at you, "Look at you. You're so fucking perfect, how could I not like you."

When she finally gains enough courage to meet your eyes, she finds nothing but happiness and a touch of excitement. You manage to say something stupid like, 'me too', before your hands are wrapped around her waist in the perfect way that she'd imagined. Then, you're pulling her closer, bodies flush against each other, and lips pressed firmly to hers.

God, kissing you was everything she'd imagined and more. You're utterly perfect, soft lips and warm skin and wandering hands that leave trails of fire across her hips, waist, chest, neck...

When the two of you announce that you're dating, everyone is happy for you, and in the middle of the congratulations, all Wanda hears is Natasha's soft voice saying, "Fucking finally."

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 3 months

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A fluffy/ mild angsty valentines fic with Bucky where reader gets HIM flowers ( because of the whole guys don’t get flowers thing :((( ) maybe there’s some mutual pining and sweet confession? Like she gets the flowers for him because he makes some joke about not having had a valentine for nearly a century and she’s just like “absolutely not will not allow that >:(“ but he thinks it’s just a joke at first :(

Anyway thanks! Love you!

Bloom.

bucky barnes x female reader

warnings - none

valentines masterlist. inbox. masterlist.

“Are we almost done?”

Bucky looks so miserable, you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah, we are. We just need flowers, and then we have everything on the list.”

He grabs the shopping cart and pushes it across the grocery store, determinedly marching in the right direction. You’re practically running to keep up with him.

“Which ones?”

You look at all the flowers, touching some of the petals gently as you decide.

“I’m not sure. What’s your favourite kind of flower, Buck?”

He looks at you with a blank expression.

“I don’t have one.”

“What?”

Now it’s your turn to look blankly at him.

“I’ve never been bought flowers. Why would I have a favourite type?”

You frown at him. The idea of Bucky never receiving flowers makes you much sadder than it should, but you’re trying to play it cool.

“Oh. Well… which of these do you like the look of the most? They’re going to go in the middle of the table in the kitchen, so they need to be bright. Give the room some colour.”

He circles the flower display a few times, looking around carefully. Eventually, he picks up a bouquet of tulips, all pinks and oranges and yellows.

“I like these.”

You smile softly, nodding your head.

“Good choice.”

You’re somewhat distracted as the two of you check out. You put the tulips in the bag carefully, glancing at Bucky every so often. He catches you looking, and can’t help but wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You’ve been standing outside Bucky’s door for the better part of fifteen minutes.

He knows.

He heard your footsteps, can hear your chest heaving, lungs working overtime. He’s just waiting for you to make your own decision.

Eventually, you do. After thirty minutes, you decide to just do it. You’ve got nothing to lose.

You knock.

Bucky swings open the door as if he’s been waiting for you, standing patiently on the other side.

“Breathe, honey.”

You didn’t even realise you’d been holding your breath. You exhale, never breaking eye contact with the man in front of you.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hi, you.”

“I got you something.”

“You did?”

You grab the bouquet from where you’ve leant it against the wall, holding it out to him.

He stops in his tracks, brows furrowed in confusion.

“They’re… for me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

You inhale deeply, willing yourself to find some temporary courage.

“Because tomorrow is Valentine’s Day. And no one has ever bought you flowers.”

He’s smiling now, soft and knowing.

“You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

He says it so sincerely, so genuinely, that it makes you want to cry. You hand the flowers to him, grinning as he admires them up close.

“They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

That takes you by surprise.

You and Bucky have always had a careful, consistent friendship. Ever since he first barrelled into your life, you’ve thrown tender smiles his way, nodding your head in acknowledgement every time he passed you in the hallways. He warmed to you, slowly but surely. Your kindness, your generosity, your genuineness - you’ve charmed him delicately, somewhat accidentally.

You’ve also been in love with him since day one.

You never thought to mention it - he’s healing, learning, growing as he goes, and you don’t want to halt his progress. So, you’ve pined from a distance, gently and quietly.

“Buck… will you be my valentine?”

He beams at you, the most luminescent smile you’ve ever seen from him.

“Oh, sweetheart. I’ve been working up the courage to ask you that every year since I met you. Knew you’d beat me to it.”

You laugh, stepping in closer to him. He puts the flowers down carefully, reaching out to cup your face in his hands.

“Can I kiss you, my valentine?”

You nod, already leaning in. He presses his lips to yours, and he swears he feels flowers bloom in his ribcage, bright and alive.

#be murphy’s valentine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel fic

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userlando · 9 months

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the love we left — carlos sainz jr

carlos sainz jr x fem!reader [8.8k] summary: you weren’t aware that your family’s worry had extended so far that they’d brought in the heavy artillery, it being carlos sainz of all people. the very same person who’d turned you into someone you didn’t recognise in the mirror anymore. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, very angsty, mentions of alcohol abuse and drug use, heartbreak, childhood friends, brother's best friend, public sex a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts, unfinished for a whole month so I went back and thought that it deserved a second chance. and voilà, here you have it! my very first carlos fic!! i'd love to hear your thoughts on this, because I love how this turned out. happy reading my lovelies!! x

The music was pounding, borderline rupturing your eardrum with good music that had you bobbing your head gently to the intimate beat. Everywhere you looked were bodies, moving in unison and hands roaming sweaty skin.

The bartender poured drinks like his life depended on it, and you watched him pour you another shot of tequila without a verbal request from you, shooting you a friendly grin and side stepping to help the next customer. You downed your shot, pulling a small face at the rancid taste as you made your way to the dance floor.

You didn’t know when you’d become this type of person. The person who’d spend their weekends in clubs, dancing the nights away until they got blisters on their feet and most likely woke up with their head in a toilet bowl. It had started out as something you and your girlfriends did, sneaking into clubs when you’d just turned legal, but then you’d started going alone because you found out that sitting in your apartment alone with your thoughts was way too much for you to handle.

You weren’t strong enough to deal with your emotions, preferring to find people and alcohol to distract you. It had worked out quite well for you and the multiple shots you’d taken over the span of two hours were starting to settle in your bones, buzzing right beneath your skin and giving you enough courage to seek out the dance floor.

Your body moved like it was an entity of its own, face tilted up to the ceiling and eyes closed as you felt the music. It rattled your bones and settled in your hips, the bottom of your heels sticking to the floor with every step you took.

I’ve never seen someone look so at home on a dance floor, he’d once said. The words came sneaking into your mind, unbidden. You could still remember the party, how your brother had bought the whole gang shots and you’d taken to the floor with laughter and happiness in your bellies. The DJ hadn’t been very happy when your brother and the man of the hour stepped up to the booth and completely took over with their non-existent experience of manning a DJ booth, but he’d relented when your brother had drunkenly explained that this man right here? He’s gonna be racing cars professionally, cabrón.

You were so far gone in your head, not even flinching at the pair of hands sliding over your waist and pulling you into a body. The person smelled of cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, and it made something roll in your stomach at the mix of it in your nostrils but you couldn’t pull away. He was yet another distraction from your messed up life, and you welcomed it in all forms.

If you let yourself take a step back and think of exactly why you allowed a complete stranger to touch you the way they were, you’d come to the conclusion that the reason was because the feeling of hands on your hips reminded you of him. That one damned night that changed you, that made you into this.

He’d cornered you against the wall, claimed your lips in a bruising kiss that left you panting and his hands. Fuck. His hands had gripped your hips so tight that you’d had bruises for a whole week after that encounter.

You’d thought that finally, finally the both of you would be together after years of pining; Spending your awkward teenage years wishing that your brother’s best friend would look at you as a girl he could imagine kissing, and not as his best friend’s sister and a family friend. But then he’d acted like nothing happened, leaving you in the dust with little to no explanation as he went to kickstart his career.

Bile rose in your throat as your brain entered dangerous territory, and you blinked your eyes open against the lights. It was blurry, and it took a few moments for you to realise that there were tears welling up in your eyes. You’d stopped crying long ago, but sometimes the tears managed to sneak up on you when you were vulnerable and drunk.

The hands on your body were suddenly too much, and just as you were about to run, someone grabbed you and yanked a little harder than you had been prepared for. You stumbled, a wordless shout leaving your lips when you were pulled to the side of the dance floor, legs struggling to keep up. It took a second for you to realise that someone had grabbed you and was in the process of dragging you off the dance floor, away from the sweaty and dancing bodies, away from the man who you’d danced with. Your eyes were scanning your surroundings, feeling too drunk to think of a good plan to escape so you settled for the only thing that would hopefully get someone’s attention.

Before you could open your mouth and scream, a hand settled right on your lips and muffled the sound, your eyes flickering up to the man in front of you in the hopes that you could shoot him the most pleading look through your eyes.

You found yourself looking into round and dark eyes, so eerily familiar that it made your stomach violently turn and you took a stumbling step back like shock itself had shoved you, turning around to promptly retch into a nearby trash can. You heaved and clutched at the edge of the bin with your hands, moaning miserably until it finally stopped.

“Come on, let’s get you outside.” His voice sounded somewhere behind you, somehow overpowering the pulsing music.

His hands grabbed at you, helping you steady yourself and you didn’t bother to spare him another glance as you weakly shoved his hands away. He didn’t fight you, nor say anything when you walked straight out of the club, legs feeling incredibly weak and hands shaking; like you were two seconds away from breaking down.

And you were. What the fuck was he doing here? Why would he come back?

The chilly air was welcomed when you pushed the back door open, stumbling out into the alley and breathing in, in an effort to sober up. You ignored your trembling hands as you dug around in your purse for gum, anything to get rid of the sour taste in your mouth but you doubted it would do much to settle the nausea roiling in your stomach.

You heard a scuffle behind you, causing you to freeze because you’d been hoping that it was all just your drunken mind playing tricks on you; Because it happened sometimes. It had happened in your dreams, and once when you’d smoked a dodgy rolled up joint and hallucinated him being there. But no, he was standing there when you turned around, eyebrows pulled together in that annoying frown he always wore whenever he disapproved of something. His face was passive though, eyes not giving away anything and it was so infuriating.

He’d always played the older brother, acting like he had some kind of right to decide over you just because he was your brother’s friend. But his feelings had been anything but fraternal, he’d made that very clear when he decided to fuck you and leave.

You swallowed, feeling nauseous as you stood staring at him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, cursing yourself quietly when your voice shook. But you sounded stern, even in your drunken state and something about your tone made the man grit his teeth.

“I was worried—“

No. You didn’t need to hear the same old spiel again. He didn’t get to be worried about you, not anymore.

“What are you doing here, Carlos?” You cut him off, making him cringe at the way you said his name, sharply and angry - so differently from how you used to say it.

“Your family is worried about you.” He replied slowly.

The way he talked reminded you of someone who spoke carefully as to not scare away a skittish animal. It was very bizarre, the feeling so unreal that you had a hard time believing that your fucked up mind hadn’t decided to conjure him up on a random Sunday night. A few moments passed as you stared, and stared. He was truly there in the flesh.

You were aware that your mother had been worried, calling you every day to check up on you and you gave her the same old answer because what else was there to say?

You just weren’t aware that your family’s worry had extended so far that they’d brought in the heavy artillery, it being Carlos fucking Sainz of all people. The very same person who’d turned you into someone you didn’t recognise in the mirror anymore.

“I wanted to check up on you, see how you are doing.” He broke the drawn out silence, stuffing both of his hands into the pockets of his jacket like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

You remembered the odd habit he used to have, where he’d wring his hands whenever he felt out of place. It was such a minuscule detail that barely anyone took notice of, but you did. You always did.

Your eyes dropped to follow the movement, noting the casual jeans and the red hoodie under his black jacket. You quickly looked away, refusing to think about how good he looked.

“Well, now you have. So you can go.” You shot him a smile with no real joy behind it, turning around and walking down the alleyway in the direction of your apartment.

You knew that he wouldn’t leave you alone, and a big part of you wanted him to. But you couldn’t deny that one percent that wanted, needed him to stay.

The sounds of his footsteps let you know that he wasn’t far behind and you jumped like he’d burned you when you felt his fingertips touch your arm. Just a quick touch that lit your body on fire. Your eyes found his and you took a big step back, feeling your chest go tight at the slight downwards tilt of his lips, like he hadn’t expected you to react negatively.

“Nena, please. Let me walk you home, at least.” He said and your throat tightened up at the familiar pet name he’d called you since you were children and so incredibly naive.

“Don’t call me that.” You sniffled, bringing a hand up to rub at your nose. “You don’t get to show up here after two years and play the hero. I don’t need one, and I certainly don’t need you.”

“Lo sé.” He said, but he really didn’t know, did he?

You didn’t say a word, taking two steps before glaring down at your shoes. They had been a pain the whole night and now that the alcohol wasn’t doing its job of numbing the pain, your feet were starting to hurt from being pinched for the past few hours. You balanced yourself with a hand on the wall, slipping your heels off with a quiet grumble and shoving the offending footwear into the man’s chest. Carlos grunted at the unexpected force, hands coming up to catch the heels before they dropped and raising both eyebrows at you.

You weren’t looking at his face, but you could tell that he was baffled by your actions and it made you feel just a tad bit smug. If he was going to show up and insist on pestering you, he might as well make himself useful.

The concrete was uncomfortable to walk barefoot on, but it felt freeing and you took comfort in that feeling. Anything to not think about exactly who was walking a few steps behind you, feeling his eyes on you like hot coal on your skin.

“Do you live far from here?” He asked, tone cautious like he didn’t want to say the wrong things or set you off.

“No, why?” You turned your head to look over your shoulder and found him walking way closer to you than you thought. “Is the neighbourhood not up to your standards?”

You knew you were being petty now, playing unfair and it clearly annoyed Carlos as he looked away to avoid your cold gaze. It wasn’t his fault that he’d gone and got himself an even more lavish lifestyle where he raced cars for a living and got millions out of it. You’d always been proud of him, one of his biggest supporters before everything transpired and although you didn’t want to admit it out loud, you’d always keep tabs on him.

There weren’t enough fingers on your hands to count the amount of times you’d struggled to not pick up your phone and text him after he’d won a race, or if he did badly. The urge to comfort him and to be happy for him was still there, even years later.

“I live down the road.” You said, desperate to break the tension. “You can go.”

Carlos fell into step beside you, not sparing you a glance as he nodded.

“I know.” He said, but made no effort to leave you alone.

The two of you walked in relative silence, interjecting with small talk every now and then to fill the unbearable quiet that had blanketed over you. It took a few minutes for Carlos to relax, shoulders dropping like the tension was slowly seeping out of his body when he realised that you were beyond your anger now, speaking softly rather than the tone you’d carried a few minutes earlier. He didn’t like how you sounded though, mellow and short, like you’d given up on caring. It made something ugly swirl in his stomach to the point where he started to feel nauseous.

He was starting to spiral in his thoughts, trapped inside his head and just as he opened his mouth to speak, you beat him to it.

“How’s Ferrari treating you?” You asked and his head snapped to you. You weren’t looking at him, staring straight ahead with your mouth in a thin line. “You’ve been doing well lately.”

Carlos didn’t know if you were trying to act nonchalant and if you were, you were doing a piss poor job because he could see how you struggled to maintain a neutral expression on your face. He didn’t want to point it out though because his mind had finally caught up to your question, teetering along the edge of she’s keeping tabs on me.

“Yeah.” His voice was hoarse and he hurriedly cleared his throat. “It’s been good, felt like a dream when I signed the contract.”

You could still remember when he started karting, how he’d plead with his parents to buy him merchandise with the Ferrari logo poorly pressed onto the material. It had always been a dream of his, and something about him achieving it made you smile.

“I bet it was.” You said softly, glancing at Carlos to find him staring at you; eyes wide and searching, like he was taking in your smile. You hurried to look away, suddenly uncomfortable with the rush of old emotions storming back and taking residence in your entire being.

“How have you been?” He asked, genuine and curious.

You considered ignoring his question, not knowing how to answer him without making yourself out to be the most pathetic person to grace the earth. How could you tell him how you’d been in a downwards spiral for the past years? Could you even admit to the things you’d done, how you’d drank yourself to oblivion in hopes to numb yourself and worked dead end jobs to keep yourself afloat?

“I’ve been fine.” Your tone was flat, letting him know that you weren’t in the mood to delve deeper and thankfully he respected your wishes, keeping silent. “Well, here we are.”

You nodded up at the apartment complex you’d stopped in front of, suddenly feeling awkward as you found yourselves staring at each other with no idea how to proceed.

Carlos fidgeted as you stared at him, looking as anxious as you felt and it made you a little sad because you’d been better than this, once upon a time. You’d never known awkward silences or odd looks, but you’d somehow managed to go from close to whatever the fuck this was. Strangers. Ex-lovers. But could you even dub him as an ex-lover when you’d only slept with him once?

You took in the sharpness of his jaw, the stubble growing on it fitting him as well as you remembered but there was a certain edge to him that hadn’t existed last time you saw him. He looked fully grown up, like an adult who didn’t have time for children’s games and torrid love affairs.

Homesickness bloomed in your chest the further your mind delved into the past, suddenly wishing that things were different. Wishing that you’d swallowed your pride and picked up your phone.

Would he have answered? Did he change his number?

You swallowed excessive saliva in your mouth, trying not to grimace when it felt like swallowing gravel as your eyes traveled down his arm that he’d successfully managed to free from his pocket, hanging by his side. Your eyes latched onto the space between his thumb and pointer finger, where the tan skin was white and raised in a small bump. A healed scar that brought such a rush of memories that the words tumbled out of your mouth before you overthought them.

“Do you wanna come in?” You asked and Carlos couldn’t manage to hold his surprise in, eyebrows shooting up and jaw going a little slack. “Just… for a while.”

It probably sounded wrong, like you were inviting him with ulterior motives and you weren’t. Really. Just the thought of him touching you made bile rise in your throat and you realised that you weren’t ready. For any of this. But then again, would you ever be ready?

Whatever inner monologue you were running through in your head was halted when Carlos exhaled, glancing at the apartment building before nodding twice.

“Me encantaría.” He said, voice gentle.

You hurried to get your keys out of your purse, hands shaking a little and you didn’t know whether it was from your nerves being shot or the unhealthy amount of alcohol you’d consumed not even an hour ago. The door gave way when you turned the key and pushed it forcefully with your shoulder, stepping inside and flicking the light on.

It wasn’t much. A one bedroom apartment in a safe enough neighbourhood. Your brother had scowled and made his displeasure known when he’d helped you move in, even offering to find you a better place to rent out but you refused. Mostly because this was further away from your family and because it was yours. It had its defects and flaws, but you loved it from the moment you stepped foot inside.

Your brother and Carlos were like one person in two bodies, so you almost expected him to get his two cents in when he stepped in behind you and closed the door; Eyes roaming around and taking in the place. His face gave nothing away, as always, but then his brown eyes landed on you and his lips twitched.

“I like it.” He said, like you’d asked.

You gave a nod, secretly pleased but then you scolded yourself because why the fuck did you even care what he thought? Mierda.

“Glad to know you approve.” You muttered, annoyance pricking your heart and you didn’t know why. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll just be a minute.”

You left him to his own devices, standing in the middle of the living area looking a little lost while you sought out the comfort of your bedroom. The door closed with a click and you hurriedly changed your clothes to something more comfortable, snatching your makeup wipes where they’d fallen on the floor to wipe at your face. Your makeup was smudged, embarrassingly so but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when your heart was racing a mile a minute, thinking of the man on the other side of the door.

There was a moment of panic where you felt that shit, you shouldn’t have invited him in because this apartment was the only place he hadn’t touched, soiled with his fake promises and lies.

The memories of you in his bed came back with full force, thinking of how you’d woken up in the middle of the night with a smile on your face that got wiped as soon as you touched the cold side of his bed. He’d been nowhere to be found, and you’d contemplated staying and hoping that he’d come back in the morning but then you’d found his contract on the kitchen counter and the packed suitcases you’d somehow skimmed over when you were wrapped up in him.

It had felt like a gut punch and it still did as you stared at yourself in the mirror, swallowing against the nausea swirling up from your stomach to your throat. Your eyes welled with tears, and you gave yourself a moment to silently cry before you wiped angrily at your eyes, reaching for your toothbrush.

You thought back on your younger self, how she’d been so happy to have finally caught the eyes of her brother’s best friend. After years of pining and hoping that he’d see her as something more than his sister. How he’d once wiped a thumb under her eye when she’d first started experiencing with makeup in her teenage years, and he’d softly said that you don’t need so much of it. You’re beautiful, nena.

You deserved better, but you didn’t know what better was. Was it in the arms of a man or the bottom of a shot glass? It was a terrifying revelation, to realise how fucked up your life had become and it was all your fault.

Closure. That was what you needed, wasn’t it? But you didn’t want to move on from him, because despite it all, you still loved him.

Carlos had his back to you when you came out of your room, staring hard at the frames on the wall and you briefly wondered if he noticed how you’d deliberately left out the pictures with him.

“I remember this day.” He said quietly without looking at you. His finger pointed at a framed picture of you and your best friend, at an animal sanctuary with your hands stretched out, feeding a giraffe. “You were so happy to finally see giraffes, no one could pull you away from them.”

You wanted to smile at the memory, but it was hard when emotion was still clogging up your throat. You embraced yourself and sat down on your sofa, making a small hum of acknowledgement instead. Carlos turned around at that, sweeping his eyes across the small area before settling on you.

“Things change.” You said, because they really did.

“Sí.” He sighed, taking a seat in the ottoman. The seat furthest away from you, you noted. “I have that picture in my driver’s room. Not that one, but a similar one where you’re by yourself.”

You knew what picture he was referring to and it made you frown. Why would he confess to that?

“Why?” You asked, because that was the question, wasn’t it? Why, why, why?

Carlos inhaled through his nose, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Reminds me of how simple life used to be.” He said, like it answered the million questions in your head.

You didn’t ask him to elaborate, because you didn’t want to hear it. It must’ve been difficult to lead such a fast paced life, hopping from one country to the other and spending hours on driving cars. You’d imagine that it got a little too much at some point, rendering you homesick and yearning for a simpler life. But it didn’t work like that. Life rarely went the way you wanted it to.

“Why are you really here, Carlos?” You asked, the question so sudden that it cut through the false sense of security the both of you had managed to build.

He stared at you, eyes unmoving and it was so unnerving that you looked down in your lap, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

“I miss you.” He said, and you barely managed to hold in the scoff. Barely. “I miss us.”

“There was no us.” You interjected, spitting the word out like it was venom.

It might as well have been because Carlos hands curled into fists where they stayed in his lap, something he always did to reel his frustration in. Somehow, that angered you. You weren’t the one who walked out. You weren’t the one who left him behind.

“I kno—“

“No, you don’t!” You hissed, fury finally unfurling in your chest. “El problema es usted no sabe mi dolor o mi vacío. You just walk back into my life like I’m supposed to welcome you with open arms.”

Your breathing was picking up, chest heaving with the lack of air you were heaving in and it did nothing to stop the pricks of tears in your eyes as you raised your head to glare at him. Carlos looked taken aback, hands slack from the previous fists and his eyes looked… Sad. Regretful. It was so pitiful that you couldn’t help but laugh wetly and humourlessly, bringing a sleeved hand to wipe at your nose.

“I don’t know what to say.” He admitted after a painful silence.

You looked away, sniffling as tears started falling traitorously, tracking your cheeks and you hated yourself for it. The last thing you wanted to do in front of Carlos was cry, but it seemed like your heart disagreed.

“I don’t know what you want from me.” You said, quietly. “You’ve already had me and it wasn’t enough.”

“It was enough.” His voice was more forceful than you expected, making your stomach drop. “It is enough. The fault was never with you, it was me.”

“Cállate.” You shook your head. “Don’t do the it’s not you, it’s me bullshit.”

Carlos sucked his teeth in exasperation.

“You know I’ve always loved you, nena.” He said and it made you look up.

Love? For a moment, your heart stopped beating in your chest as hope flared in every crevice of your body. But you reeled it in just as quick, because if he called fucking and dumping love, then you were better off. You might’ve been damaged but you still recognised that you deserved better.

“I don’t know.” You set your jaw. “You have a funny way of showing it, if you do.”

He sat up in the ottoman, ignoring the groan of protest it gave under his weight. The both of you stared at each other for a second and it felt like the longest hour of your life.

“That night…” He began, trailing off like he wasn’t sure how to put his thoughts into words. “Nena, I didn’t do anything that I regretted, and I still don’t. The only thing I regret is leaving you the way I did because you deserve so much better.”

Something wet touched your throat and you hurried to wipe at it, realising that tears were still rolling down your face. It irked you.

Carlos sighed heavily, like the conversation was too much to bear and you agreed with that sentiment, for once.

“Then why did you? Leave?” Your voice was quiet, broken and you hated the sound of it.

Carlos pulled a small face like it pained him to hear you so broken down, and it sent a small zip of satisfaction through you. You wanted him to hurt like you’d hurt.

“Because I was scared.” He confessed. “I was scared about everything. Your brother, this new life that I got pushed into. It was too much and I was panicking that night. I just wanted to feel normal again.”

“So… you slept with me and left?” You laughed bitterly.

Carlos cut you a stern look that still, to this day, shut you right up. He’d always had the face for it, the round and wide dark eyes and the bushy eyebrows. He could look intimidating when he wanted to, not that he ever scared you but you knew when to shut up.

“No. I sought you out because you were the only person who feels safe, who feels like home.”

He said feels. Not felt. So did that mean you still felt like home to him? You weren’t sure what to think or believe, feeling nauseous and lost all of a sudden.

“I realise that I went about it completely wrong.” He continued when you still hadn’t spoken. “I have a lot of regrets in my life, nena. But leaving you in my bed is the biggest of them all.”

The confession felt heavy, riddled with underlying emotions and confessions that you weren’t really ready to confront nor unpack. It was exhausting, all this new information invading your every sense and Carlos must’ve sensed how overwhelmed you’d suddenly become, because he palmed the tops of his thighs and sucked his teeth.

“Do you wanna get out for a bit?” He asked and you raised your eyebrows in slight bewilderment.

“It’s two in the morning.” You replied slowly and that prompted a smile from Carlos.

The sight of it was so unexpected and beautiful that it felt like a sucker punch, making you look away before you started staring.

“That never stopped you before.”

Before. Before when you’d sneak out of the house with your girlfriends to meet up with other friends and go to the most obscure parties. And Carlos would always be the one to catch you in the act, whenever he stayed over the house. He’d never berate or rat you out, just smirk and tell you to stay safe. To call if you ever needed him.

“Fine.” You relented, standing up and making your way over to the hallway. “Do you have a car?”

“Yeah, I parked it not too far from here.” He regarded you silently when you reached for your shoes, slipping them on. “Are you going to go out like that?”

It didn’t sound judgemental, only curious and that’s why you shot him an amused stare instead of picking up a fight out of annoyance.

“Yes.” You said, short and sweet.

He gave you a long stare before nodding, and that was that.

Fifteen minutes later and you were sitting in the passenger seat of a Ferrari, speeding down the deserted highway. There was no clear destination in either of your minds, but you cracked open the window and let the wind whip your hair, closing your eyes for a moment.

The radio was playing quietly in the background, almost drowned out by the roar of the engine, but it was comforting all the same.

Carlos hadn’t said a word since he started the car, only hitting you with a do you want seat warmers on? to which you’d shook your head. But he was good company, silent and comforting, just like he used to be.

“I love this song.” You said softly when the voices on the radio drifted off, the familiar tunes of Lovers Rock filling the relative silence.

Carlos didn’t say anything, just reached a hand out to turn the sound up a few bars, shooting you a glance that you felt in your core. It was amazing how he still made you feel like that, like someone had reached down your throat and fisted your heart violently. It was a sickening feeling, one that was so addicting and dangerous but you still yearned for it.

You were still mad at him, but you could also see a clearer picture now that he’d given you his side of the story and apologised. It wasn’t that you forgave him - that would take time - but you weren’t holding a grudge as strong like before.

It was hard though, to not acknowledge how he still made you feel like the wide eyed teenage girl who’d once saw the stars and moon in his dark eyes, who’d feel sick with love and admiration for him.

Because love can burn like a cigarette,

and leave you alone with nothing.

There was an irony to the lyrics, one that seemed to fit your current life like a glove. Carlos cleared his throat.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, breaking the silence.

Your stomach still felt unsettled from the drinks you’d had and from him showing up and upending your life, so you shook your head in the negative and turned your head to look at him.

“No, thank you.” You whispered.

Carlos didn’t take his eyes off the road and you took the chance to look at him, taking in the sharpness of his jaw and his strong nose. His hair was longer than last time you saw him, floppy and soft without any product in it and it should’ve annoyed you how beautiful he looked. Like something straight out of a romance movie.

There were a slight shadow under his eyes though, looking a lot like a person who carried the weight of the world on their shoulders and you fisted your hands in your lap to avoid reaching out to swipe a thumb over the bags of his eyes. You’d been so swept up in your anger that you’d failed to realise that Carlos was probably hurting just as much, he just couldn’t show it or self-destruct.

“Estás mirando, nena.” His voice, paired with the pull of his mouth made you look away.

Warmth spread all over your body when you realised that you’d been caught staring, for far too long to play it off.

“Where are we going?” You asked, in desperate need to change the subject and Carlos noticed it, because his nose flared as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth; Like he was trying to hold his smile off.

“La playa.” He said.

The air had chilled considerably when you stepped out of the car, the wind whipping your bare legs and you pulled your sweater over your hands to find some comforting warmth as you gazed out over the beach.

It was dark, completely deserted even by the boardwalk and it was perfect for you, not in the mood to run into anyone who might know the man who was currently walking a few steps behind you.

The sand found its way into your shoes but you paid it little to no mind as you hurried your steps to the shoreline, far enough that the water wouldn't reach you, but close enough to hear the ominuous sounds of crashing waves.

"It's cold." Carlos said and you turned around, taking in the scrunch of his nose as he glanced around.

"Es perfecto." You said, waiting until Carlos looked over at you to give him a tentative smile. There was something in his face that changed at the sight of your open and vulnerable expression, but you didn't stop to think too hard on it.

Instead, you reached for your oversized sweater and pulled it clean off your head, ignoring Carlos' sounds of mortified and confused protest. His voice climbed in octaves when you kicked your shorts off, toeing your shoes away before you began walking backwards toward the ocean.

"Ay, what are you doing?" He asked, taking a step forward like he wanted to stop you. "You're gonna get sick!"

You ignored him, only breaking eye contact when the current carried up the shore, frothy water licking your calves and it was so cold that you felt it in your entire being. A sharp gasp left your lips, but you were determined to get a dip in just to clear your head.

It had been a long night, and getting sick was the last thing on your mind as water enveloped you.

Carlos watched silently, though his heart was pounding against his ribcage whenever he lost sight of you for a mere second. You'd always emerge from the water, smiling like you were in your own world and that's probably what stopped him from stalking right over and yank you out of the bed of water.

You looked so free, the complete opposite of how you'd looked the entire night and he selfishly didn't want that look on your face to diminish. Granted, you weren't smiling out of joy nor were you directing it at him, but the burden on your shoulders looked a little lighter when you finally started walking out of the water.

He tried hard not to stare at your body, the skimpy lingerie doing absolutely nothing to hide the most private parts of you. Carlos didn't know if he was just imagining things, but you'd truly grown into yourself since he last saw you.

You were shivering when you reached him, arms embracing your upper body like they were going to provide the warmth you needed to not send yourself into shock. He shrugged his jacket off without thinking when you hurriedly redressed in your sweater, water still dripping down your hair and body.

Carlos was ever the worrier, sitting you down on the sand and draping his jacket around your shoulder. You didn't protest, happily accepting it with a stuttered thank you that had his chest squeezing.

"You've always been good at surprising me." Carlos said when a few minutes had passed. He smiled when you gazed at him, trying not to react when you shifted and accidentally bumped your thigh against his.

You pulled away slightly, looking out into the darkness.

"How long are you staying?" You asked, quietly and slowly like you weren't sure if you wanted to hear the answer.

You knew realistically that he couldn't stay, he wouldn't. Carlos had a whole other life to live and a job to tend to, but you'd foolishly believed that maybe he'd stick around.

Carlos had a crease between his eyebrows that told you otherwise though, and you knew what was coming out of his mouth before he even said the words.

"Two days." He replied quietly, the sound almost getting swallowed up by the rushing waves in the distance. "I'm supposed to be in Italy by now but I wanted to see you."

You smiled despite yourself, a small graze of the lips that had Carlos inhale through his nose.

"I'm glad you came." You confessed out loud, the very same words you'd been scared to utter for the past hour.

Now they were out in the open, and Carlos was staring at the side of your head like he'd maybe heard wrong.

"Me too." He said softly, watching you shift as a breeze blew by.

Your thigh grazed his and this time, you didn't move away, letting the warmth of your flesh seep through his jeans.

"I'm sorry for everything." Carlos pulled a leg up to rest his cheek on the knee, head turned towards you. "I wish I could take it all back."

"I know." You said quietly.

You looked at each other in silence and you took in the slope of his nose and the tanned skin. The apples of his cheeks were a little sunburnt, lips dry but oh so full and inviting. You stared at them, thinking back to how they'd tasted that one fateful night.

Carlos cheeks went a little pink at your scrutiny and you quickly looked away, feeling yourself flush warmth all over at being caught staring so obviously.

"Come with me." He said and you blinked, confusion marring your face when you turned back to look at him. "To Italy. Just to get away for a bit. You can meet my friends and watch me race."

You hesitated, feeling lost all of a sudden because you weren't sure if you were ready for it yet. But a small part of you wanted to go with him, to let go of this life of destruction you'd managed to envelop yourself in.

Carlos hesitantly touched your hand that you had in your lap, fingertips against the palm of your hand and that one small touch was so electrifying that you filled your belly with air, holding your breath until it hurt your chest before exhaling.

"Charles has a girlfriend who I think you'd get along with well. She’s very much like you." He continued, sounding an awful lot like a salesman and it made you smile. “You’d love her, I think.”

You didn't know who Charles was, but the name rang a bell and you took a shot in the dark that it was his teammate.

"I probably would." You replied slowly and Carlos pinched eyebrows relaxed a tad bit when you finally broke your silence, like your silence had built some anxiety. "Can I think on it? I just —"

"Yes." He interrupted you, like he completely understood. "You don't have to explain yourself. I'll be around for two more days so you can take your time."

You thought about your brother, wondering if he knew what had spiralled that night before Carlos left to start his career. Did he have a hunch or did Carlos tell him? All you really knew was that your brother had flown out plenty of times to attend races, so you knew that they were still in contact, and by the looks of it, good friends. He’d invited you along the first few times, only stopping when your polite no’s had turned into snapping.

“What are you thinking about?” Carlos voice brought you out of your thoughts and you realised he’d been looking at your face the entire time, trying to read your thoughts when your eyebrows furrowed.

“Does he know?” You asked and Carlos looked confused for exactly two seconds before his eyebrows smoothed out, a humourless smile twitching his lip as he gazed out at the ocean in front of you.

He pulled up both legs, resting his forearms on his knees and clutching his hands together.

“Yes.” He said and your stomach dropped a little. “He came to a race in Miami a year ago and I felt… guilty. He was talking about how you should come to a race sometime and how concerned he was for you.”

Your eyebrows jumped. Your brother knew. How much did he know? He hadn’t even brought it up with you, not once.

“I told him.” He let out a laugh with no real joy behind it. “He punched me, called me a motherfucker and left.”

Your mouth gaped open as you took in the new information, eyebrows raised so high that you were scared they’d get stuck in your hairline but you couldn’t bring yourself to relax.

You had never really been that close to your brother, close enough to spend some time in the same circle of friends whenever it was called for but you weren’t sit down and talk about your feelings close. It shouldn’t have surprised you that he hadn’t reached out to you and spoke to you about how you’d fucked his best friend, but he hadn’t treated you any different the past year. He still called and texted to check on you, expressing his worry whenever you gave him the old I’m fine reply. Now you knew why he’d been so gentle with you.

“I deserved it.” Carlos said after a stretch of silence, looking at you.

It made you sad for him then, and a little ashamed of yourself that you’d never stopped to consider how Carlos had felt in all of this. You’d always thought that he ran because he couldn’t deal with turning you down gently, but looking at him now? He was clearly struggling as well.

“You didn’t.” You said and Carlos pulled a face like he didn’t believe you. “I’m just a little horrified that my brother knows I slept with his best friend.”

The both of you smiled at each other.

“It’s not his business, anyway.” Carlos said, leaning his weight to one side so he could bump his shoulder against yours. “Just you and me, ¿verdad?”

“Sí.” You smiled like the words he was saying didn’t turn your stomach inside out.

Carlos looked straight ahead, and you scooted closer to him with a shiver, still cold and wet. He didn’t even hesitate to put his arm around you when your sides pressed together, leaning your head against his shoulder and basking in his warmth when a breeze blew by.

Your stomach was doing somersaults, twisting with nerves and a sense of giddiness and you really hoped that he couldn’t hear the harsh pound of your heart against your rib cage when he turned his head to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Te amo, nena.” He whispered, faint and intimate but it still felt like he’d reached into your bones and rattled them with a violent shake.

Hearing the quiet love confession come from his mouth stunned you, hope blooming in your chest as you picked your head up to take a look at his face. He was close, so close, and the inviting pout of his lips made it all the more difficult to resist pressing your lips against them.

Carlos inhaled sharply through his nose when you grazed your lips against his, a whisper of a touch that electrified you to the core. The arm around you tightened, pressing you closer as your noses brushed.

“Kiss me.” You whispered and Carlos did exactly that.

The press of his lips made you warm all over, hands coming up to clutch his hoodie when he pried your lips open; the touch of tongues making you push harder. It felt a lot like coming home, like universe had aligned itself, and you basked in the feeling of it all.

“Nena.” Carlos murmured when the kiss reached its end, lips touching yours as he spoke. He pushed his forehead to yours, eyelashes laying so pretty on the tops of his cheeks as he closed his eyelids. “I want you, I’ve wanted you for years. But maybe we should take things slow.”

You nodded, though you couldn’t resist stealing another kiss that he was all too eager to respond to. A groan rumbled in his chest when you placed both hands on his wide shoulders, letting him guide you to lay down on the sand.

It wasn’t as dark as it had been when you first arrived, but the faint light cast an almost beautiful shadow to his face as he hovered above you. His eyes were dark pools, staring into yours while his hand brushed wet strands of hair from your face. He crooked them behind your ear, cupping your cheek to bring you up for another kiss that had you whimpering for more.

Take things slow. Wasn’t two years enough? How much longer were you supposed to wait?

Carlos must’ve shared that sentiment, trailing his lips down your jaw to your throat in sucking kisses. He licked your skin, tongue warm against your flesh as he tasted the saltwater and you squirmed at the touch.

“Need you, Carlos.” You murmured when he pulled away.

He laughed breathlessly like he couldn’t believe the words you were saying, a hand travelling down your body with his eyes fastened on yours. You didn’t even dare to blink, staring at him until his hand found its way into your shorts and underwear, brushing his finger against your clit. Your eyelids fluttered shut, mouth going slack when he swiped his fingers through the mess of wet, bringing them back to circle your clit.

You grabbed him with terse hands, gasping and moaning while he brought you to a quick climax. It was sudden and fast, absolutely earth shattering when you climbed up to the edge and toppled right over. Carlos silenced your moans with his mouth, not kissing, just slotted over yours as he stole your breath and sounds.

“You sound beautiful, nena.” He murmured, fingertip nudging your sensitive clit just to see the way your mouth dropped open in a shivered gasp. “Missed that look on your face.”

“Carlos.” Your voice sounded pleading, hand sliding to the back of his head to bury your fingers in his hair. “Want you right now. Please.”

He let out a shuddered breath, pulling his hand out of your shorts to unbutton his jeans and zip them down far enough to fish himself out. You struggled to not stare down between the two of you as you kicked your shorts and panties off, marvelling in the sounds he made as he spit in his hand and jacked himself off; slicking himself up generously.

There was a moment where you looked at each other, unblinking and silent. His cock slid against you, slicking himself up further before his head caught where you were clenching in anticipation. It was stupid and reckless, to not use protection and to even do it so publicly but you needed him.

You couldn’t wait for another hour, and neither could he, judging by the way he slid inside with a gasped breath. Your eyes clenched shut as the intrusion locked your body up, finding comfort in his hands as he brushed your face and pressed kisses to it. You relaxed, feeling the girth of him stretching you out the further he pushed inside.

It had been a while since someone had stretched you to your limits like he currently was, but you were eager to feel every inch of him and you made it clear by wrapping your arms around him, spreading your legs further like an invitation.

Carlos let out a breathless laugh, pushing his lips against yours in a loving kiss and you lost yourself in it as he began thrusting. He hit you deep, kissed your spot with the head of his cock and the coarse hair of his groin rubbed deliciously against your clit.

It wasn’t romantic, not something you’d see in movies, but it was intimate and perfect for you. He conveyed so much in the movement of his hips, eyes stuck on you like he didn’t dare to look away in fear of missing every twitch and movement of your face.

You got a hand between the two of you, moaning and gasping when your second orgasm crept up on you. It made your head spin, how fast you’d been brought to the edge yet again and you clenched around him, screaming out your climax. Carlos wasn’t far behind, all kinds of curses streaming from his lips as he pulled out and came on your lower abdomen.

The stark contrast of his warmth against your cool skin made you shiver, still struggling to come down from your high. Carlos let out a drawn out groan that screamed of sudden exhaustion, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket to wipe the come off your skin before he dropped down; Half on top of you and half on the sand.

“Where are you staying?” You asked, voice a little raspy from how dry your throat was.

“My parents house.” He replied, eyes taking in the slope of your nose and the pout of your bitten raw lips.

You turned your head to smile at him, eyes fluttering as he pushed forward to kiss your mouth.

“You can stay with me.” Your voice was timid, a little shy and it made Carlos smile.

“Bueno.”

Carlos’ hand found your collarbone, stroking the pads of his fingers against the raised bone. His eyes caught on the glimmering necklace around your throat, heart stopping for a split second when the pendant caught the light and he realised what he was looking at.

The number 55 was staring up at him, so small but so glaringly obvious that he wondered how he’d failed to notice it.

You must’ve sensed his body language shift, eyes flicking over his face where it remained unmoving.

“I wanted to keep you close to my heart.” You whispered and it was like gospel to Carlos’ ears. “I never stopped loving you.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, face softening even more.

“Neither did I.”

He thought of the years he’d lived through without you, thinking of the missed time and opportunity he could’ve had with you if he had just picked up the phone. But it didn’t matter now.

Carlos gazed at your face, at the stars reflected in your eyes, and made a vow to himself to never let you slip away again.

#carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x female reader #carlos sainz jr x female reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz fic #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 fic #carlos sainz angst

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hannieehaee · 3 months

Note

so about the dk thing... hold my beer, luna! I have some things for you:

- him being the biggest advocate for princess treatment™ 24/7, but becoming mean one specific night out of stress (due to work or anything you want), the outcome can be angsty or smutty >> this one can be a little tricky, because I swear I never saw seokmin mad...

- seokmin with an extremely shy s/o who makes him endeared every time, especially if she struggles when asking for any type of ffection

- dk in his mingyu era... also known as the scenario where seokmin gets constantly teased by his s/o about everything he does (which I can see happening, since he's such a sweet soul), but there's a turn 🤨☝️: dk gets his bite back by domming the f out of her 🫶

this is the result of being extremely dk obsessed.

I don't know if any of these were able to spark anything in your pretty brain, but I love anything you write anyway so...

kisses ♡

18+ / mdi

content: mean!seokmin, sub-ish reader, afab reader, smut, established relationship, angst, fluff, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 2813

a/n: thank u for the suggestions anonie i loved them 🫡 i decided to do the first one hehe (mostly bc i live for princess treatment in fics but thats a subject for another day) hope u enjoy, fellow dk obsessed individual <3

masterlist

if there was an award for best boyfriend, seokmin would easily get first place.

he was always known to be the sweetest, most caring boy around. he had even gotten teased in front of millions over the extremely long texts he had a tendency to send to showcase how deeply he cared for the people in his life. seokmin just happened to be an overly affectionate guy, but who could blame him when he had so much love to give?

however, no one had truly scratched the surface of his affections. no one, but you. you bore the brunt of the most passionate and emotional aspects of his love. there was no one in this world seokmin knew how to love better than you. it was almost as if being your boyfriend had been the one task he had been sent to do on this earth. and he did it damn well.

to sum it up, you were his everything. seokmin had always craved romantic love; to have someone who he could give all his affections to without any type of filter or judgement. you happily received his love and gave yours right back, making you one of the most envied couples around due to the love that very clearly radiated out of the two of you.

every single one of your days was met by endless affection from your boyfriend, affections which he adored to give to you. you never had to ask for anything from seokmin. he just always knew the perfect ways in which to take care of you, always insisting on tending to your every need. however, everyone has off days. even seokmin.

the day had started like any other. you'd gone to sleep in each other's arms, waking up equally as tangled up as the previous night. seokmin woke up first, quickly getting ready before kissing you goodbye with the promise of coming back in time to have a dinner with you. the prospect always made him giddy. his whole life he'd always wanted a domestic routine to share with the love of his life day by day and now it was his reality.

like always, he departed home with a smile on his face, knowing he was about to arrive to his dream job that he shared with his best friends only to go back home at the end of the day and fall into your arms all over again. life was good; far too good to seokmin.

it seemed like those were the last few good moments seokmin was meant to have that day, as absolutely everything went wrong after that.

it first began with him embarrassingly tripping on his way out of the car that had driven him to the company, cutting up one of his favorite designer tops (one that had been a limited edition by the way!!). only a few people had seen, so the fall on its own hadnt been too embarrassing. however, as he fell he also happened to drop and smash his phone screen. upon trying to turn his phone back on, he failed, now being stuck with a useless phone for the rest of the day (or even all the way until he had a chance to get it fixed).

the shitty day did not end there. it was just starting.

the next awful predicament occurred just as he walked into the practice room. he hadnt known it until stepping foot inside, but he had just walked into a fight. a few of the members had been fighting about some stupid and unimportant thing, which made at least half of them far too irritable for their own good. on days in which members were irritated at each other, their coordination had a tendency to lack, which only caused more irritation. members snapped at each other throughout the day, making the hours of practice almost unbearable for seokmin. on top of that, he had developed a huge headache just an hour into leaving home. he was also nursing an old ankle injury he had neglected to get treated, which was now acting up due to his fall earlier that day.

his ankle injury led to a few performance team members snapping at him due to his lack in performance. he knew in his heart of hearts that it was just a stressful day for them all (and that his own attitude had been snappy thus far), but he couldnt bring himself to reason this, making him snap right back at his members. even upon going out to eat with his manager he bumped into some rude fans who had been a bit careless with his personal space, except this time he coupdnt react since he knew itd become a scandal.

halfway through his day seokmin realized how rude and unlike himself he had been acting. usually he'd be the mediator in any arguments among members, but today he had even joined in and worsened the situation. he also never really minded if fans were a little overexcited upon meeting him, simply chalking it up to the shock they felt at seeing him. except this time he found himself feeling annoyed? at it. this was very unlike him, but his mood simply continued to worsen throughout the day.

by the time he was heading back home, the final nail was hammered into the coffin. the van that usually drove him back and forth had broken down, causing seokmin, his driver and manager to have to stop on the side of a busy street to check on the issue. seokmin, of course, had to stay inside the van and not make his presence known, knowing he'd easily be recognized in the busy street. this was a fact that irritated him too for some reason.

by the end of it, it had taken over an hour to get the problem fixed, and he had no access to his phone to contact you and let you know that he'd be arriving home way later than usual.

that was the moment in which you entered his mind again. the thought of you instantly made him sigh in relief, knowing that soon enough he'd get to fall asleep in your arms and wake up to a better day.

it was 10:47 when he finally arrived back to your shared home, two hours after the usual time in which he'd reunite with you every day. upon walking in he was met with something he had not wanted to deal with after such an stressful day. you were there to greet him as per usual, but did not seem too happy to see him.

you opened your mouth before he could say anything.

"seokmin, what the hell? i called you twelve times. i even asked the members to call you and no response? what was so important that you ignored me all day?", you seemed very frustrated as you said it, clearly oblivious to the terrible day he'd just had.

"baby– "

"you said you'd be here for dinner by 8! what was so important you couldnt even give me a heads up? we rarely ever get to have dinner together. i spent hours cooking and getting ready and you just ditch me, and for what?", you continued to ramble, giving him no space to answer.

now, any other day seokmin wouldve maybe assumed that your outburst mightve been due to you having a bad day of your own. but today he was just too angry. there was no space in his mind for him to rationalize your lack of sympathy to him in this moment. despite knowing there was no way for you to know that his day had sucked, he also reasoned that you were not even giving him a chance to explain himself. this fact on its own finally did him in. you were going to be unreasonable? fine, then he was going to be mean. all frustrations from the day suddenly came together and manifested into the angry words that were about to leave his mouth.

"and– "

"god, can you please shut up?", he suddenly interrupted you with a tone so icy he even surprised himself, but he kept going regardless, "ive had such a horrible day, i dont appreciate coming home to your nagging. do you even care that maybe i had a reason for being late? i dont have to be here at eight on the dot every single night. nor do i have to keep you updated all day. god, please just leave me alone for today. i cant deal with you on top of everything else."

upon finishing his rambles, seokmin was out of breath. he hadnt said much, but the venom behind his words was enough to render him speechless. the moment the words left his mouth he felt the utmost regret. your face had gone from shocked to dejected to simply sad as he spoke. his went from frustrated to angry to regretful. the two of you stared at each other for a few seconds before seokmin tried to go and rectify himself.

"fuck, baby ... im so sorry, i dont know where that came from. i– i didnt mean any of that. i had a horrible day and– "

"is that it? it seemed like something you'd already thought about", it was now your turn to be angry, it seemed.

"no, baby, i swear! i was just trying to ... trying to be mean. i was trying to hurt your feelings. im so sorry. everything went wrong today and i was just so angry all day. i couldnt even call you because i broke my phone. see!", he pulled his phone out to show you, taking the opportunity to get closer to you, "i know its no justification, but i did not mean a single word i said. i love our nightly routine. i love coming home to you every day more than anything. please dont doubt that. i shouldntve taken out my anger on you. it will never happen again. please, please forgive me?", his endless ramble finally came to an end, puppy eyes staring into yours as he hoped you saw the sincerity in them.

halfway through his speech he had managed to make you give into him and let him hold you as he spoke. this simple act made him glad.

"minnie ... im sorry you had a bad day. but you should never speak to me like that. i love you, but i wont tolerate that. if something bothers you, you have to tell me, not blow up on me like– "

"no! nothing about you ever bothers me! i adore absolutely everything about our relationship and our routine. im so sorry. i shouldve told you when i came home that my day had put me in a mood instead of snapping at you like that."

you chuckled, "i cant really blame you. i threw accusations at you the moment you walked in. im sorry. can we call it even?"

"yes, angel. of course. im sorry i spoiled the dinner. wish i couldve seen how pretty you dressed up for me," he pouted at you.

"it's okay, minnie. there's always tomorrow. are you still feeling angry? did your ramble help you at least?", he winced at the mention of the disrespectful words he had just spoken mere minutes ago, but you seemed already unaffected by them.

to be quite honest, seokmin still felt peeved off at his day. from his fall, to his phone, to his members being mean and unreasonable, to then having his car fail and keep him from you, to then finally getting home and picking a fight with you, it was safe to say he was still dissatisfied. he needed something to relieve his stress, but he didnt want to put that onto you again.

"honestly? i still feel frustrated. it was just such a shitty day, i ... i dont know," he sighed, "i kinda feel like breaking something."

"how about me?", you sounded so genuine as you asked.

"huh?"

"yeah. you could use me to destress. right, minnie?", there wasnt even any lust behind your words. he could tell that it was simply you trying to help out your stressed boyfriend.

"d– do you mean be mean to you?"

you nodded, leaning closer to him as you smiled.

"yes, minnie. would that help? taking your frustrations out on me?"

he groaned with no response, choosing instead to pull you into a greedy and wanton kiss.

his hands were immediately rough as they desperately kneaded at every curve in your body, so harsh in their movements he was already sure he'd leave a bruise or two in his wake.

suddenly he pulled away to inquire at you.

"wait, baby. are you sure? i don't want to hurt you."

"you won't. you never would. do your worst, seokmin," and with that, you pulled him back to you to continue kissing.

surprisingly enough, the simple kissing on its own had begun to alleviate his mood a bit. being able to feel your whines as he fondled your body as he saw fit was already making him forget about his shitty day.

it didnt take long for him to drag you to your shared room and throw you on the bed, immediately going to rip your skimpy pajamas off so that he could have a full view of the body he was about to ram into the bed.

"oh, angel. you're so fucking beautiful ... gonna be so fucking mean to you, angel, im sorry," except he wasnt sorry. and both his tone of voice and devilish grin let you know of that fact.

you lay limp for him to take action, something which made him groan internally, knowing you were putting yourself fully at his disposition. he took advantage of this, choosing to undress himself and finally begin to hover over you.

immediately he flipped you around roughly, forcing you onto your elbow and knees as you gasped at the sudden movement. he fondled you some more and made it so you'd arch your back for him as much as physically possible.

he had no need to prepare neither you nor himself, as he was hard the moment you asked him to use you, and you were practically dripping at his rough attitude.

"baby, gonna fuck you now, yeah? let me know if it's too much."

you gave him the green light, leading him to immediately ramming into you with no further warning.

"f– fuck!"

"oh, fuck. feel so fucking good, beautiful. gonna fuck you so good ... gonna atone for every shitty thing that happened today ...", with that he began slamming into you with no mercy, drinking in every single scream you let out. he knew his neighbors might mind, but he didnt care for that right now. all he wanted was for you to crumble under him.

"you're such a good toy for me, angel. my pretty girl, letting me use her– fuck! ... however i see fit."

"m– minnie!"

"i know, beautiful, i know. such a pretty toy ..."

his movements only became harsher as he grew closer and closer to his end. he knew yours was coming too, based on the heightened pitch of your moans and the way you tried to push yourself back on him despite the sheer strength of his thrusts. it was impossible for him not to fall in love with how good you were for him. it was also impossible for him to be actually mean to you, choosing instead to praise you as your orgasm came to be.

"c– cum for me, beautiful. let me fill up your pretty cunt ..."

"yes, minnie! yours, all yours ..."

he didnt need more than that to fill you up, ramming against you one last time as he winced at the loud sound of his hips slamming against your ass. he swore he almost lost consciousness at the inexplicable pleasure he felt from cumming so deep inside you, hearing you slump over due to lack of energy.

your orgasms subsided together, leading seokmin to do quick work of your clean up and settling with you in the still half-messy bed, rushing to hold you in his arms, which was what he'd wanted since leaving home that morning.

"feel better?", you broke the silence.

"yeah, thanks angel," he grinned at you, giving you a quick peck.

"you weren't even mean to me!", you whined.

"it was hard, okay? i love you!"

"yeah, whatever ..."

"say it back!"

"ill think about it."

"baby!", this time he unglued your bodies, hovering over you as he tried to give you his, "you dont be mean!"

you giggled at him, giving in upon his sudden attack of kisses all over your face, "fine! i love you!"

he finally stopped, opting to cuddle into your side once more, "that's what i thought."

a/n: sorry the smut was too short idk how to write seokmin as mean 💔

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 5 days

Text

Best Prom Ever 👗💞🪩

Chrissy asks Eddie to prom purely to piss off Jason, you're devastated but Eddie is so happy so you fake a smile and hide how you feel.

So much for the magical prom night you wished for, but not all hope is lost.

This is a fluffy, angsty fic but this is an 18+blog so mdni,

💌🎀

There's this crushing weight on your heart when Chrissy asks Eddie to the prom. It must feel like a dream for Eddie. So why does it feel like your heart is breaking into a million pieces?

It's meant to be just a typical boring Monday but now your whole world feels like it's been shaken.

Of course he says yes. Looks at you for a second before hand and you give him an encouraging smile, hide the way you feel like you can't breathe.

Chrissy was a sweetheart. She would be good for Eddie. You resolve to ignore the stabbing pain in your chest and plant a fake, happy smile on your face.

You knew the two of them had a budding friendship, but you never expected this. Eddie hated prom and everything it stood for and yet he was agreeing to go with Chrissy.

If you asked would he have gone with you? No, of course not. You slip away from their conversation, your ears are ringing and the deep ache in your chest is only getting worse.

You hurry to the bathroom and into a cubicle, lock the door and let out the tears you were struggling to keep at bay.

There was a small part of you that hoped Eddie would ask you to the prom. You could go together and make each other laugh, dance like idiots and be in your own little world.

The bubble was quickly burst seeing Chrissy ask Eddie. Of course he wouldn't say no. This was Chrissy you were talking about. She was the cheer captain and Hawkin High's princess.

Shakily you get up and head out to dry your tears, try to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest and put on a happy smile. For Eddie.

He has a smile on his face for the rest of the day and at lunch he's telling the rest of Hellfire Club what happened.

"I mean, Chrissy told me she asked me to prom to get back at Jason for being a douchebag but I can be a little bit excited right? This is Chrissy Cunningham, we're talking about" Eddie babbles on to you while you're eating lunch.

He's been talking about prom for the last ten minutes.

Jeff raises his eyebrows at Eddie. "Dude, what about the whole "Prom is just a bunch of bullshit, you'd never see me step one foot in conformist shit like that" Eddie pauses as he steals one of your fries then answers Jeff's question.

"Dude I still feel that way, however this is a chance to piss off Carver and I never want to miss an opportunity like that" he explains and you listen half heartedly.

This is why he was going? A revenge fantasy for him? The thought depresses you and you make a vow to yourself that you will enjoy prom night in a different way. Maybe you could stay at home, watch a bunch of horror movies or sappy, wholesome movies and binge on snacks.

That made you feel a little bit better. But there was still a small part of you that dreaded Friday night.

💌🎀

Eddie shows up at your house half an hour before prom. Well, he climbs up through your window like he always does and nearly ruins his outfit.

He looks gorgeous, he's paired his leather jacket with a black dress shirt and black jeans. He frowns as his eyes trail over you.

"Why aren't you dressed yet? Proms starting in half an hour"

"Oh, I'm not going to the dance" you shrug and Eddie gapes at you. His big brown eyes are wide and searching as you flop back down in your bed, already cosy in your comfiest nightwear and ready to binge watch your favourite movies.

"But..." You turn to him and fake a smile once again, fuck, you were getting pretty good at this.

"Go and have fun Eddie"

"It won't be the same without you princess" you feel a tug at your heart but shake your head. No. You were not giving yourself false hope that deep down Eddie had feelings for you.

"Don't be silly, you'll be with Chrissy, you'll have a great time" you assure him and he gives you a faint smile.

"But my best girl won't be there" fuck. Why did he have to say such sweet things, he's still lingering so you give him a gentle nudge to the door. He looks back at you one more time and then he's gone.

Your night of movies and binging in ice cream is interrupted by Steve. He comes into your room and is at your closet, pulling out the dress you bought for prom.

When you were secretly hoping maybe Eddie would ask you.

"Steve, what the hell are you doing?" He turns around with one hand on his hip and gives you that "Mom" stare he usually reserves for the kids.

"You're not holing up in your room feeling sorry for yourself and missing prom. I missed prom because I felt shitty about Nance and you were there for me. Now I'm returning the favor. Get dressed honey"

You're tempted but the thought of seeing Eddie with Chrissy hurts your heart all over again.

"I don't know if I can watch Eddie with Chrissy, having the time of their lives. I mean, of course I want him to have fun but do I have to see it?" Steve settles beside you and puts his arm around you.

"I'm going with you. Robin and Vickie too. Fuck Eddie Munson, you will go and have the time of your life with us, now get dressed" he orders.

"So bossy", you mutter but kiss his cheek before you take the dress into your bathroom and start getting ready .

💞💌🎀

Prom is boring. He kinda expected it but it's even worse now he's here. The music is shitty and while Chrissy is really a sweetheart, all he can think about is you.

Would prom be more fun if you were here? Absolutely yes. Jason is glaring daggers at him and that is barely giving him any satisfaction.

Chrissy is looking at him all sympathetic and that doesn't help his mood. "Is yn not coming?" She looks around for you and Eddie shakes his head glum.

"No, she's having a movie night instead" Chrissy bites her lip, looking shocked.

"It's prom. She can't miss prom" he shrugs the weight of your absence weighing heavy on him, he's so tempted to just ditch this shit and go and be with you.

Chrissy softens when she looks at him, "You're really not having a good time huh? I'm sorry, I thought at the time this would be a good idea, but you're missing your girl and well... I miss Jason" she murmurs softly and Eddie while he doesn't get how anyone could miss Carver, he does sympathise with her.

"I think I've ruined everything" he replies and the small bubble of panic inside of him grows bigger and bigger when he thinks about you on your own.

"Oh Eddie, I think you need to go and see her. You haven't ruined anything, she just doesn't know how you feel. Maybe because you realised at the last minute" Chrissy scolds him.

Doesn't realise how you feel... He goes over Chrissy's words several times before realising she's right.

He's head over heels. For you.

"Shit" Eddie yelps and ignores the way some of his classmates look their way. Chrissy still looks disappointed in him and that doesn't help either.

"Wait, why are you pissed at me?" He asks Chrissy confused, she looks at him like he's grown two heads and sighs.

"Eddie, you've left your best friend all alone while she's hurting and trying to put on a brave face because she doesn't realise that you like her back. She's been so nice to me so I'm pissed for her that it took you so long to get your head out of your ass"

Eddie winces and nods. Yup, he deserved that. Then his heart skips a beat as he repeats her words.

"You really think she feels the same?" Chrissy's glare softens and she nods. Oh fuck, yeah he had messed up.

"Oh wow" Chrissy gasps and he turns around to where she's staring at and there you are in a beautiful dress, looking ethereal and like an angel as you enter the room.

You were here after all. His heart is going a mile a minute but sinks as he sees you with Steve. Then it lightens when Robin and Vickie arrive at the same time.

Chrissy is looking at him expectantly and he swallows as he looks at you with Steve. He messed up. He should be the one making you smile like that.

"I think I'm too late. She's with Steve" he mutters and Chrissy shakes her head looking exasperated.

"Most likely as friends. Eddie I've never seen you be shy in your life so will you go and get the girl and stop being a wimp" he gapes at Chrissy's words then nods.

Yeah, he was Eddie the Brave. He could do this.

💞💞

Eddie walks over to you, he looks nervous which is rare for him. He's also staring at you in a way that makes you feel butterflies. Why wasn't he with Chrissy.

"You came" he sounds so relieved and this surprises you but he was your friend, of course he would want to see you at prom. It didn't mean anything else.

"Wait, why aren't you with Chrissy?" You ask him curiously and notice she's dancing with Jason.

"Yeah, it was a big mistake coming with her, huge. Should have taken my best girl instead of getting sucked into some dumb revenge scheme" wait...what?

"Eddie. This is Chrissy we are talking about, she's queen B and she's so sweet and kind and...' he cuts you off, his eyes softening as he gazes at you.

"She's not you" three words but there is so much meaning behind them. Oh. Well shit. Maybe there was hope after all.

"I was coming to see you. Prom isn't prom without my girl. I should have asked you because...because you're everything to me and I'm so in love with you"

Slow music begins to play, your classmates are chatting loudly, giggling but you can only focus on Eddie. "You do?" he nods and holds out his hand which you take.

"I love you too" you blurt out and he grins all dimples and happiness. Pulls you closer to him and the two of you sway to the music.

Eddie dances with you, has your hand in his and holds it over his heart. He leans down and kisses you. The whole world melts away in that moment and it's just the two of you, passionately kissing and lost in each other.

"Best prom ever" you whisper to him and lay your head on his chest. His fingers caress your hair and sway to the music with the guy you love.

🎀❤️

Take my breath away

My love, take my breath away

Take my breath away - Berlin

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x best friend reader #stranger things eddie munson

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piperlivingdeliberately · 7 months

Text

Blushing, Crushing, and Totally F*cked! Part II

This is the second part to my first fic! Here's the link to that: :)

Summary: Hazel and the reader grow much closer as friends through the club, and after the emotional bonding meeting, they think they might be ready to grow closer in other ways.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: fem reader (she/her pronouns used), swearing, sexual content (no explicit smut), making out, discussions of divorce, mental health, emotional topics, a bit of hurt/comfort, angsty because I got carried away, etc. Hazel is much less of a loser in this one, but she's just as cute. 18+

Your younger popular self never would have imagined that you would be sitting in a circle with a bunch of losers who you punched in the face every day. Yet here you were, surrounded by violent losers, your favorite loser with a goofy smile on her face sitting to your left. Hazel looked over at you, making you remember how much you never would have expected that smile to make you so weak in the knees.

You still got butterflies thinking about the first time Hazel talked to you; a simple two-word compliment after your first spar made your heart flutter with giddy nerves. The interaction spurred you on enough to allow you to feel comfortable giving her friendly smiles. These quick greetings turned to light touches, then to bolder flirtatious statements, and eventually deep conversations that were cut off by school bells. You wondered when you'd finally gather the courage to discuss what you really wanted to tell her: you had been crushing on Hazel since the first day of eleventh grade. If only your classes were longer than 15 minutes.

"So, we know that the club has been a good way for us to feel empowered physically, but we also thought it could be a way for us to feel empowered emotionally," Josie kicked off the meeting on yet another unexpected note. You were grateful for the interruption in your spiraling thoughts.

The trauma-dumping session began, everyone adding their own little secrets and worries. You felt comforted by the supportive listening ears and voices around you. You had grown so close to these girls, so close that you ached hearing the tales of their pain. You felt your heart clench even more when Hazel timidly spoke up about her tense relationship with her mother.

"It's just been really good for me to get to know people who actually want to know me," she finished, eyes locking with yours before quickly fixing on her shoes.

"I just want to go back to Brittany for a second--" PJ began, but you didn't listen. You rested your hand on Hazel's knee, an offering of support, of friendship, or maybe something else. You completely tuned out the rest of the meeting when her own hand rested on yours. Her thumb stroked your wrist. Your whole body went stiff, but your hand felt like rippling water being held in hers.

"I think that's a good place to wrap up," PJ closed out the meeting, thanking everyone for their attendance as the rest of your friends filed out. You and Hazel didn't move, though. Your hand stayed on her knee, her thumb stayed gently gliding against the back of yours. Her sharp inhale was the only thing that got you to look up from the spot where you touched.

"Thank you," was all she said. You didn't have to ask why she was thankful, and she knew she didn't have to tell you. Something unspoken was always settled between your eyes as you stared.

"You're welcome." You removed your hand, not knowing if it had been there for too long or not long enough. "If you... If you ever want to keep talking about your mom or anything else that bothers you, I'm always here to listen." Hazel's gaze softened even more, which you didn't think was possible.

"Do you want to come over and talk more?" She said it so fast that even she seemed surprised by the question. "I mean-- only if you want to. We could watch a movie or I don't know. If it's stupid, I'm--"

"Yes," you assured her. "Let's go."

Her eyes widened like a cartoon character, so you began rising off of the gym floor to urge her on. "Oh-- okay. Great. Let's go."

...

The ride to Hazel's house was realistically no longer than 15 minutes. It felt like hours, though, with you using all of your energy to avoid staring at her ringed hands on the steering wheel. Your cheeks grew hot at the thought of what they would feel like on your bare skin. Your cheeks grew even hotter when you finally realized that Hazel had already parked the car and was watching you ogle her fingers.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked innocently.

"Nothing, sorry." You pushed the door open, waiting for her to lead you into her house.

One step in, you stifled a gasp. Hazel's home was almost as bright and beautiful as she was.

"Do you want to go up to my room? I can grab some snacks," she offered.

"Sure, sure." You followed her like a puppy as she led you through the breathtaking halls of her house. She gathered various food and DVDs before finally plopping down on her bed when you reached her room. You hovered in the doorway for a moment, unsure of where you were allowed to sit.

"Come here, you freak," she joked, patting the sheets next to her. You laughed as you tentatively sat at the edge of her bed. "I've had enough trauma-dumping for the day, so I'm thinking we should watch some Disney for a palette cleanser." You grinned like a little kid at the assortment of movies she had laid out before you. "Well?" she asked.

"Well, what?" you replied.

"Pick one." She looked up at you through her dark lashes. "The princess gets to pick the princess movie."

"Fuck off," you scoffed, shoving her playfully to prevent her from seeing how red your cheeks had gotten at the nickname. She simply raised her eyebrows, still waiting for your choice. "Fine." You pointed at the purple and yellow Tangled DVD case.

"Classic." She hopped off the bed and inserted the disc. When she rejoined you, you could have sworn she sat closer than she had originally. Don't think about it, you told yourself. You were just two friends who shared lingering glances and hand touches watching the most romantic princess movie known to man. That's all it was.

The movie was as wonderful as ever, if not more wonderful what with Hazel's poor renditions of all of the songs to entertain you. For the most part, you were able to sit comfortably beside each other. You were completely content to watch the screen, that is when you were able to ignore that you could feel her looking at you instead of the TV at times. It became impossible to ignore when the credits began rolling and you had no choice but to meet her eyes.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked quietly.

She hesitated. "I didn't expect you to be so..."

"...not bitchy?" you finished her sentence.

She laughed, "Well, not exactly. I guess I just never would have guessed that you were so kind and supportive."

"Yeah, most people don't expect the popular cheerleader to be anything but a ditsy fucktoy for football players, I guess." You had meant it as a joke, but Hazel shot up in defense.

"That's not what I meant." She shook her head. "I think what I'm trying to say is that I never would have guessed that someone as cool and-- and beautiful as you would hang out with any one of us in the club."

"Honestly," you sighed. "I never would have guessed it either." You shared a laugh with Hazel, marveling at how sweet she sounded when she was happy.

"I'm really glad you joined the club," Hazel told you, suddenly seeming more shy. Her soft gaze melted your heart, yet somehow made you feel braver than ever before.

"You're the reason I love the club so much." You almost whispered it, so afraid of the reaction it would elicit. Hazel continued to look at you for so long that you considered changing the subject as a diversion from your confession. You were unable to speak, though, because Hazel quickly pressed her lips to yours.

The speed of the kiss shocked you at first, Hazel moving quickly as if she were afraid that you would run away. Your hands found her hair and she instantly relaxed, your lips melting together.

You didn't know that kissing could feel this good, this easy, this right. Despite never wanting to stop, you tugged on Hazel's hair to look at her gasping face.

"Are you okay?" she asked you, hands framing your face in concern.

"God, yes," you laughed. "I'm so good."

Your giggles were once again cut off by her lips. They chased yours with more urgency, so you slipped your tongue against hers. She moaned softly against your teeth, spurring on your ministrations until she detached herself from your mouth.

You almost protested at the lack of contact until you felt her wet lips trailing down your jaw and neck. You whined as she sucked and softly bit a sweet spot, reveling in the sound of her moaning at your own noises. Her hands snaked around your waist, slowly climbing up toward your breasts.

"Is this okay?" she breathed against your collarbone.

"Fuck, please." She let out a low chuckle at your begging, her laughter soon muffled against your skin as she slipped her head under your oversized shirt. You felt her breath dance across your tits, aching for her already. After one delicate kiss to your left nipple, moans filled your ears. Hazel emerged from beneath your clothes when you both realized that the sounds were coming from neither of you.

"Shit!" Hazel exclaimed. "I hate it when she does this." She collapsed onto the bed, breathless.

"Is... Is that your mom?"

"Yes," Hazel groaned from behind her hands. "She's very vocal."

"God, I'm sorry you have to hear that." The pair of you couldn't help but laugh at the obscene sounds from down the hall, clutching each other's arms in disbelief as they grew louder.

"I'm just sorry that we were interrupted," Hazel whispered against your hand before kissing your palm.

"I am, too," you agreed. "It's getting late, though. I should go." You nearly got teary-eyed when you saw the sadness on Hazel's face.

"Right," she said. "Let me take you home."

You found yourself wishing that you lived farther from Hazel when she pulled into your driveway after just a few minutes. You planted a quick kiss on her forehead before thanking her and walking to your front door.

"Wait!" you heard Hazel call your name through the rolled-down window. You bounced back over to her. "My mom's not going to be home this weekend. So, if you wanted to come over again, we could... you know..."

"...watch The Princess and the Frog next?" you joked.

Her infectious giggle sounded like Heaven. "You got it, princess." With one more soft kiss, she pulled away from your house.

The weekend couldn't come any sooner.

...

AHHHHH sorry I got so carried away with this but there will DEFINITELY be a smutty part three for all of you sluts. Let me know if you liked this one!

#hazel callahan smut #hazel callahan x reader #hazel bottoms #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan

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bellaxgiornata · 6 months

Text

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Six]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.5k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: Another angsty and sad installment, but hey there's finally an update for this fic! There's also some POV switches in this one but it should be obvious. Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt hadn’t meant to show up at the office in such a foul mood that Friday morning. That wasn’t his intention. He’d gone through a multitude of emotions last night, barely getting any sleep after he’d stopped by your apartment and found out that you were pregnant. Eventually he’d finally decided that he would seek your forgiveness for how awful he’d treated you, wanting to prove just how serious he was about being there for the both of you. And he was not going to give up until he’d somehow managed it. Until he proved himself to you. With a focused calm after that silent vow, he’d put back his apartment after the destructive mess he’d made of it in his self-loathing fury.

But yet somehow as he stepped into the office and heard both Karen and Foggy working at their desks, he couldn’t stop that bit of bitter anger that suddenly burned white hot in his stomach. Because they both had to have known that you were pregnant this whole time. He knew Karen had been spending time with you, and he figured Foggy’s rage at him back on Monday morning had to have been due to him finding out the truth, too. And yet neither of them had said a thing.

Feeling irrationally angry, Matt slammed the door harshly behind himself before roughly storming his way to his office. He heard the way both Foggy and Karen had glanced up from their desks at his loud entrance, probably exchanging a look with each other about his bad mood.

Dropping his briefcase onto his desk in his frustration, Matt folded up his cane before he also slammed that onto his desk. Closing his eyes, he blew out a rough breath, his hands aggravatedly readjusting his tie.

This wasn't on Foggy or Karen, he reminded himself. This was between the two of you. What had happened was due to his actions. You were allowed to be friends with them still, allowed to have confided in them. Even if it hurt him to be the last to know.

But as much as Matt tried hard to calm himself down and not lash out, ultimately his anger won out.

Swiftly turning on his heel, Matt stormed back out of his office, his teeth grinding together. Hands rising to roughly grip his hips, he couldn’t fight the near growl in his voice when he spoke.

“Both of you knew, didn’t you?” he called out into the office. “That she was pregnant? With my child?”

He heard Foggy sigh, gradually sliding his chair back and making his way around his desk before exiting his office. Karen hesitated for a moment, running her fingers through her hair before she slowly rose from her desk, too. Both of them entered the main room of the office a moment later, focusing on Matt.

“So you finally spoke with her?” Foggy asked.

“Yeah,” Matt snapped. “I did. Turns out she’s pregnant. But you both knew that, didn’t you? Before I even did?”

“Yes,” Karen replied. “Wasn’t exactly my place to tell you that, though.”

“She was planning to tell you herself, Matt,” Foggy added. “That was her place to do so, not ours. I know you know that.”

Matt’s lips thinned out in irritation. Of course he knew they had a point, he wasn’t that much of an asshole, but that didn’t stop him from being angry that he’d been walking around this office entirely oblivious while both of them knew what was really going on. While both of them knew he was going to be a father.

“I…take it the talk didn’t go so well?” Foggy asked carefully.

Matt’s eyes narrowed back at him behind his lenses. “No, Fog, it didn’t,” he answered. “She told me to leave. Told me she was raising our child by herself, even after I practically begged her to let me be a part of things with her.”

“I mean,” Karen began cautiously, “can you blame her?”

Matt’s head darted in the direction of Karen’s voice. He heard the way she crossed her arms over her chest and leant up against the doorframe of her office. His eyes narrowed even further at her words.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked sharply.

“It means that you’ve been throwing yourself out there as Daredevil for so long now, Matt,” Karen explained. “You don’t even think about the consequences of it anymore. You were supposed to be in a committed relationship with her. And things had been going well between you both, but in the entirety of your relationship, nothing crazy had been happening in Hell’s Kitchen until just recently. And then you prioritized that over her,” Karen continued. “So can you blame her for not wanting you around for this? For not wanting the added stress of wondering if you’re actually going to show up for her when you say you will? For not wanting to wonder if she even matters to you? If you’re even going to be any help to her when she needs it?”

“Well, I–”

“Because you have absolutely no idea what she’s been going through for the past few weeks,” Karen barreled over Matt. “The fear and the loneliness she’s been feeling. Struggling with uncomfortable pregnancy symptoms while trying to take care of herself all on her own. She’s been in this alone for weeks now, Matt. Because you couldn’t have just put her first for a single damn minute and listen to her the other week when she begged you .”

Matt stood there dumbfounded when Karen finally finished, his mouth falling open as his hands dropped from his hips, coming to hang loosely at his sides. In all his anger at himself since finding out that you were pregnant last night, he admittedly hadn’t thought too much about what you’d been going through alone. Sure, he figured you were scared, he’d certainly thought about that last night–cried over it repeatedly–but he hadn’t thought about what you must be feeling from pregnancy on top of all of that. The memory of you having been sick last night surfaced in his mind and guilt burned through him, dissipating the anger within him immediately.

“She thinks you wouldn’t want to be a father,” Foggy added softly. “That you’d care more about the city and Daredevil than raising a child.”

Matt shook his head firmly, a pain hitting him hard in the chest at Foggy’s words. You’d said that to him last night, too, but it still hurt to hear.

“That’s not true,” he breathed out, still shaking his head. “Nothing could ever be more important to me than my own family. Nothing . Especially because I never–” the words caught in his throat, his eyes closing sharply, “–I never really had one. And I wouldn’t–wouldn’t do the same to my own child. Wouldn’t have them growing up feeling like I ever abandoned them. Because I wouldn’t ,” he nearly snarled out. “I would never . And I will do everything in my power to get her to understand that.”

"I believe you," Foggy said.

The words caught Matt off guard, his head tilting to the side as he heard the truth in Foggy’s heartbeat.

"I know you, man," Foggy continued. "I know how difficult it was for you not having your family once your dad passed. We talked about it often at Columbia. So I believe you."

Matt felt his throat closing up with emotion at his friend’s words. Tears were brimming in his eyes behind his glasses and he blinked them back, not wanting to cry in front of Foggy and Karen.

"For what it's worth, I do, too," Karen added gently. "And we have both told her that. But honestly? You do have some changes to make, Matt. You need to learn balance if you're ever going to make things work. Because it's not Foggy and I that you need to convince."

"You're right," Matt readily agreed, fighting to keep his voice steady. "You're right, I do. And I will prove to her that she can depend on me. That I want to be in this with her."

"Good," Foggy firmly replied. "Cause I think you've got some work to do, buddy."

Matt kneeled down on the roof of your building, hunching over and turning an ear towards your apartment below so he could listen in better. He'd passed by here earlier when he'd first gone out tonight as Daredevil, which was something he had been avoiding ever since the breakup. He hadn't wanted to catch so much as a single beat of your heart, afraid the sound alone would shatter him to pieces, only reminding himself how much he missed you. But after the past couple of nights, stopping by your apartment was all he ever seemed compelled to do.

Earlier when he stopped by you'd been curled up on your couch, quietly watching some of those shows he knew you liked. He'd noticed you were tired, close to drifting out of consciousness as you lay there focused on the television. He could hear the exhaustion in your body and the countless times you'd yawned. He'd been itching to hop down onto your fire escape and slip through the window as he listened, desperate to peel off his suit and hold you on the couch like he used to. To let you drift to sleep in his arms while he buried his nose into your hair, breathing in the scent of you.

He'd focused on the baby, too. He'd listened to that fluttering heartbeat for quite a long while, having to eventually tear himself away from it only when he overheard someone screaming for help in the city. He hadn't wanted to go, deluding himself into feeling like he was there with you both if he focused hard enough. But ultimately you both were safe inside that apartment and somewhere in the city someone else needed his help.

But he'd come back one last time before he planned to head home for the night and try to sleep because he'd heard you up and about in your apartment. He knew it was early in the morning and he'd been curious, wondering if you were alright. Because you should have been asleep at this point.

So he had settled on the roof, and now he heard you rummaging around your kitchen. A loud rumble of hunger from your stomach met his ears and he understood immediately why you were awake–you were hungry. Making something to eat in the middle of the night.

His shoulders sagged as he placed a gloved hand to the floor of the roof as if that would somehow bring him closer to you. He'd have made you anything you asked. Would have ordered you whatever you wanted, any time of the night.

He'd have done anything for you.

Too little, too late , the bitter words of the Devil reminded him.

"Yeah, I know, I'm going as fast as I can," he heard you say. "Don't forget you're the one who woke me from a dead sleep at two in the morning wanting a grilled cheese. So you'll just need to be patient cause I am not awake, and that weird hunger-nausea is not helping.”

A smile slowly pulled Matt’s lips upwards under the mask as he listened in. You were talking to the baby, your tone a mix of tired, affectionate, and frustrated. He wondered how often you did that. This was the first time he’d stopped by and overheard you.

"Would be a lot easier if you craved things like an apple," you continued, heating the pan. "You know how much work it takes to prep an apple? None, my little devil."

Matt's hand curled into a fist at those three words you'd spoken so lovingly from your lips. My little devil . You used to call him that when he'd make his way back to you at night, running your fingers so delicately across cheek, just beneath his mask, as you inspected him for injuries.

Now you were calling the baby that? It was almost too much for Matt to bear. Sitting on the roof, bent in half over his knees, he became very aware of how much he wasn't quite a part of any of this with you. How separate he felt from you and his own child growing within you. Because of his own mistakes, his inability to prioritize the different parts of his lives. Because he should have just listened to you when you’d asked him to stay.

The burn of tears unexpectedly hit him fast and hard, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. What he wouldn’t give to slip through your window right now and pull you into a kiss, to wrap you in his arms and just hold you. He’d love nothing more than to settle you on the couch and make you the best damn grilled cheese you’d ever had. Afterwards, he'd happily clean up the kitchen and take you back to your bed, curling himself around you and falling asleep. You'd always fit so perfectly in his arms.

But you’d probably have yelled at him if he tried to step foot into your apartment again to help. He honestly didn’t think he could handle hearing you tell him yet again that he wasn’t wanted. That he had nothing to offer. That there was nothing here for him. Because that part wasn’t remotely true–you and that unborn child meant more to him than you clearly knew.

“I don’t understand how this smells like the best thing in the world right now,” you said to your belly, Matt’s ears picking up on the way you were rubbing a hand across it. “Yet coffee makes me want to throw up. I have never been a grilled cheese person. Your dad can attest to that.”

It wasn’t until he heard a few droplets land on the roof beside his fist that he realized he’d been crying. His tears had somehow managed to slide out beneath his mask as he’d been listening in to you making your late night snack. His throat had felt like it was closing up the second you’d mentioned him. And the emotions that stirred awake inside of him when you’d referred to him as dad were strong and foreign to him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he croaked out between his tears. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. Talked to you like that. And I–I certainly shouldn’t have left you when you’d needed me.” He slammed his fist against the roof, grimacing at the force as his knuckles stung beneath his gloves. “I should’ve been better. You deserved better. But I’ll fix it. I swear to you, I will fix it.”

“Wonder who you’ll take after more,” you mused softly, entirely oblivious to Matt sitting on the roof of your apartment building listening in. “Me or your dad.”

Raising a gloved hand to his mouth, a muffled sob slipped out of Matt and into it. As much as hearing this was further twisting his heart in his chest, he couldn’t tear himself away. He couldn’t stop listening, wishing he could be part of the conversation with you.

“Hopefully you get your father’s intelligence,” you continued on. “He’s a smart man, even if he’s stubborn and makes absolutely terrible decisions sometimes.”

A humorless laugh fell out of Matt next, still muffled against the palm of his glove. More wet tears trailed down his cheeks, the brisk night air biting unforgivingly against his damp skin. You weren’t wrong on that.

“I wonder what your favorite animal will be, too,” you said, turning off the stovetop. “Dogs? Cats? Koala bears?”

He heard you hum in thought as you plated your grilled cheese, walking your way over to the small table in your kitchen. The same table he’d sat at with you for many dinners, flirting with you over a meal he’d helped you cook or one you’d both ordered out. The same table you both eventually crawled out of bed in the mornings together to have coffee at, with Matt often pulling you down to cuddle in his lap while he slowly woke up.

“Or will you like narwhals maybe?” you murmured, breaking through the memories playing through his mind. "What do you think, my little devil?"

Matt forced himself to stop listening in to that one-sided conversation when he heard you take a bite of your food, shaking his head roughly as he rose to his feet. His heart ached far too much, the tears continuing to drip down his chin and land on the cement roof with an echoing plop each time. He wiped the sleeve of his suit across his face below the mask, trying to dry the tears even though they still kept coming.

He didn’t think he could sit up on your rooftop any longer. It wasn’t the same as actually being there with you. Touching you. Smelling you. Holding you. He needed to find a way to do more than this. To be welcomed back into your life, even just a little bit, so that he could prove himself. He couldn’t just sit here pathetically crying on your apartment building’s rooftop while he eavesdropped.

With a frustrated growl, Matt threw himself over to the next rooftop, heading back out into the night.

Groaning, you woke up to that familiar, unpleasant dizziness as your alarm rang out on the nightstand beside you. Pulling a hand up from out of the sheets, you turned off your alarm before running your hand across your forehead, keeping your eyes closed and waiting for the sensation to pass. It was a few minutes before it finally did, and you slowly began to toss the sheets off of yourself.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you reached over and grabbed the half-full tumbler of water from your nightstand. You had been keeping one there every night lately, noticing that the cool water sometimes helped ease the nausea that woke you from a dead sleep.

Bringing the tumbler up to your parched lips, you slowly drank a few sips down. Your stomach immediately grumbled, churning once the water reached it. Groaning again, you stopped drinking, not wanting to push your luck and end up hunched over your toilet again. Apparently you still had a few more weeks before the morning sickness generally wore off for most women in pregnancy, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t counting down the days. You’d celebrate with a cup of coffee–assuming the scent of it didn’t still deter you.

Rising up onto your feet, you groggily trudged your way out of the bedroom and across the hall to your bathroom. You flipped on the light, setting your tumbler down on the bathroom counter so you could relieve your very full bladder. You’d woken up a handful of times to pee in the middle of the night, but yet somehow there always seemed to be more to empty.

When you’d finished in the bathroom, you shuffled your way down the hallway, throwing a hand over your mouth as you yawned. If only you could have crawled back into bed and taken the day off of work. It was the last thing you felt like doing today. But as you made your way past your couch in the living room, something had caught your eye and you paused.

Doubling back you stopped at the armrest of the couch, staring down at what was positioned in the middle of it. A blue plush narwhal with a gold horn sat smiling back at you. One that hadn’t been there earlier.

For a moment all you could do was stand there and stare at it, confusion washing over you. Until you remembered how you’d gotten hungry in the middle of the night last night and made yourself a grilled cheese. And you’d been talking to your baby bump aloud, musing what they may or may not be like in the future.

You gasped when realization dawned on you, your hand flying back up to your mouth. Matt must have been nearby, eavesdropping on the conversation you were having. He must’ve heard you mention narwhals last night, and then apparently decided to run out and buy one–and the thought of him doing that dressed as Daredevil was admittedly amusing–before slipping into your apartment and leaving it here for you to find. For the baby.

As you trudged your way over to the couch, setting your tumbler down onto the coffee table and collapsing into the couch cushions, you didn’t know what to make of that. Picking up the stuffed narwhal, you hugged it to your chest, your eyes closing. Half of you wanted to be pissed that he’d been listening in without your knowledge, wondering if he’d been doing that often, but the other half of you was touched. It may not have been a grand gesture, but it was a gesture that clearly meant something. But what exactly still remained to be seen.

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee @kmc1989 @thychuvaluswife @mywellspringoflife @thornbushrose @yarrystyleeza @shiorimakibawrites @marvelcinematiquniverse @vallovesthedilfs @scoliobean @this--is--music @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @swissy23 @lilthbunny @that-girl-named-alex @warsaur @lareinaisabelle @pazii @senjoritanana @mischiefmanaged71 @xxdrixx @jess-rye @hannahbohen @theclassicvinyldragon

The tags aren't working for some and I'm not entirely sure why (could be a settings issue or just tumblr being annoying, I'm sorry!)

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #daredevil

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 7 months

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Hihi! I went on anon cause my main blog is strictly sfw, but I promise I'm an adult(29). Anyways, I had this idea of Ascended Astarion teasing Tav/Reader in front of a mirror. He can't see himself, but loves the way Tav/Reader shudders under his touch and them getting more and more embarrassed because all they can see is themselves getting riled up by seemingly nothing, but when they look down, ofc they see his hands working magic across their body.

Lol ty for the clarification and ask! I've been needing some nsfw practice!

Ascended Astarion nsfw under the cut, 18 + warnings. Like this is not implied smut. It is smut, graphic. Possessive, obsessive, manipulative, bad vampire man who loves you. As much as he's capable of. Morally gray human Tav from the start to here. It's only downhill from here baby, m/f angle. But if that doesnt fufill the dream let me know and I can make a gender neutral/ gender nonspecfic no prob! And probably less intense too because this is angsty~~~

Like I went ham, this is a whole ass fic now💀

You frowned at yourself in the bedroom mirror, adjusting your hair for the umpteenth time. It still didn't look right, despite what felt like hours of practice that you'd put into the intricate style.

You sighed as let one of your braids fall down, dissatisfied with what you saw. You didn't exactly look the part of an all-powerful vampire's consort, or at least not with the company you've recently been keeping. But it turned out a significant part of taking over Baldur's Gate was trenched in politics, meetings, balls, social events created for the sole purpose of mind games.

It was exhausting, or at least it was for you. But Astarion seemed to take to it like a duck to water. This life suited him, one of power games and subterfuge, and more often than not, murder. Not that you minded. You were just happy that he was having fun. That he was finally free after all of those years of torment. Even if he was using that freedom for… less than savory ends.

But despite his goals, you had sworn to him that you would never stray. And you intended on making good on that promise.

You just wished that he didn't insist on you being there for all of his "business". You hadn't realized how literal he had been about the whole sitting in his lap plan. It had taken a half-hour conversation to even convince him that no, you would not be doing so in the nude. He still hadn't given up on convincing you off that plan, but you highly doubted that it would help with your current level of heightened insecurity.

Maybe you were worrying for no reason. It wasn't Astarion who made you feel out of place. Well… it was, but not because of anything he did. Just… who he had become. He was so different now, so much colder to everything and everyone but you. More calculating, less forgiving, and just perfect for working with the most dangerous individuals in the mortal plane.

You seemed to be the only living thing he could relax around anymore, the only person who could soften him. It was strange really. You used to remember his softer side, before the ritual. The way his heart would hurt for children and animals alike, despite his failed attempts to hide it. His soft spot for Karlach, those who were brave and brazen, always willing to do the right thing despite the risks. The kind smile he used to have, reserved for beautiful things like the sunrise, the sunset.

Gone, all of it. It was a fact that you didn't like to think about. What you both gave up, things could have been; there was no point to it anyway. It was over. You gave Astarion the choice, this is what came of that. So here you were, obsessing over your appearance in preparation for a meeting with a high-ranking devil.

How things had changed.

You had no idea if you would ever find a way to match up with the company he kept around these days. Maybe it was your own fault for surrounding yourself with otherworldly creatures, but it was hard not to feel inadequate.

It didn't help that whenever you even slightly alluded to that insecurity, Astarion was more than ready to remind you of your… "options".

"You can join us whenever you'd like my treasure," Astarion would say with a creeping grin, "Just one bite, and we can be sure you'll be mine forever. Would that be so bad?"

It was a tempting offer, one that you kept insisting on refusing. You loved Astarion more than anything. But… you wanted that love to stay your choice. An obligation you maintained of your own free will. It's not that you didn't trust him… but to be a spawn had too many implications for you to handle.

"What has you pouting sweet thing?"

You startled when hands suddenly settled on your hip, gripping through the thin fabric of your nightdress. You looked back, relaxing the slightest bit to see Astarion smiling down at you, amused at the fact he'd managed to sneak up on you through the mirror.

"You said you weren't going to do that anymore," You whined as you leaned back into him, your eyes turning back to the mirror. You could see the fabric of your slip indented under his hands, ghost-like without his actual image reflecting back.

"I lied," Astarion said simply, leaning down to breathe you in from the crook of your neck, "Now what are you thinking about pet? I can tell something's on your mind."

You bit your lip, debating for a moment if you should tell him or not. But it's not like he would let it drop, and he was way too good at being able to tell when you were lying. Might as well come clean.

You sighed, "I don't…I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

You expected him to huff at you, maybe even laugh. But instead, the grip he had on you tightened, hard enough to make you gasp. You could feel his fangs scraping against your delicate skin, scratching hard enough to cause pinpricks of blood to bead out.

"And why would you ever think a thing like that?" Astarion asked, his voice harsh and low, "Where else would you be if not by my side hm? Please, enlighten me."

You gulped, your heart rate starting to pick up. You hadn't meant it like that, "That's not what I meant-"

"Then what else could it have meant?" Astarion shot back, his hands digging into you, surely ready to leave finger-shaped bruises. Suddenly he was using that same grip to drag you backward to the bed, effortlessly settling you between his spread legs.

All while managing to still be right in sight of the mirror. You could feel your cheeks redden as his hands started to wander, unceremoniously tugging down the straps of your nightdress to reveal your chest. That was another thing about life after the ritual that had been a surprise, just how different Astarion's sex drive was. It's not like he was a prude before, far from it, but now he was insatiable. Always ready and willing to touch you whenever the urge struck him. Often enough for you to eventually come to the thrilling, if not slightly disturbed realization, that… he was training you. Training your body to always want his touch.

And tonight was no different. You could already feel yourself getting wet, and he had barely done anything yet. But then suddenly he was pinching your nipple harshly, hissing in your ear, "I expect an answer when I ask you a question darling."

You bit back a moan, trying to remember what you were even arguing about as he started to play with your breasts, "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just… I don't want to embarrass you."

It was humiliating to admit but it was true. Not many people of Astarion's caliber insisted on a singular lover. There were so many people after him now, people with more power, more beauty, and grace. You didn't match up. You couldn't.

"Nonsense," Astarion dismissed, his hands wandering down to tear off more of your clothing, "Look at you. You were made for this life. Made for me. You're gorgeous."

The compliments mixed with the harsh feeling of his hands ripping your nightdress in two was quite the experience. You could feel his own hardness pressing into your backside, twitching as he threw your ruined clothing to the side.

Then he was gripping your chin, forcing your head back up to stare into the mirror in front of you, "I said look."

You obeyed, eyes widening at what you saw. It was so strange to see yourself like this, fully exposed with your legs spread apart, flushed and panting. It nearly gave the illusion that your very image was what was causing the wetness between your legs, instead of the invisible man toying with you.

You swallowed, your throat dry as Astarion's hands wandered lower, a feather-light touch tracing up and down your slit, "You are everything. The sole reason that I'm the man I am today. There is nowhere else you should be than right here."

"But-" You gasped, your words interrupted by a sharp slap to your inner thigh. You could see your skin start to redden in the mirror, a perfect imprint left in it's wake.

"Darling, are you questioning my judgment? What on earth made you think that was a good idea?"

You frantically shook your head, moaning when his fingers delved deeper, playing with your slick folds, "I-I'm not. I didn't- I'm sorry."

You whined as he roughly pinched your clit, his other hand moving upward to do the same to your heaving chest.

He was starting to grind his hardness against you, a tease of more to come as he murmured in your ear, "There's my good girl. Was that so hard?"

You shook your head, gasping as he finally dipped his long fingers into your cunt. You were already so sensitive, humiliatingly close in a matter of minutes.

"So gorgeous," Astarion sighed, staring straight ahead to the sole image of you, whimpering as he finger-fucked your pussy, "So needy. Can you see how wet you are pet?"

You could, you were leaking around his fingers, that needy, intense feeling getting more and more intense by the moment. It was so embarrassing seeing yourself like this, enough so that you snapped your eyes shut.

A bad idea. Astarion tutted at you, landing another sudden and hard slap to your thigh, "None of that. I told you to look. Or else."

You snapped your eyes back open, watching yourself whimper and gasp as you were played with, the harsh movement of his hand jostling your breasts. You weren't going to last much longer, not with the image of you being taken apart, the feeling of him inside you, the mean edge to your love's words.

"You're such a silly little thing, aren't you?" Astarion growled, fucking you harder and faster. You were so close, but you weren't stupid enough to come without permission. Not after what he did the last time, "Doubting me. Do you really think I don't know what's best for you? What's best for us?"

"No," You whimpered, your hips arching backward to rub harder into his erection, "You're right, I-I'm yours. C-Can I come now? Please?"

"Beg me and maybe I'll think about it," Astarion meanly laughed, relishing in the gush of slick his harshness coaxed from between your legs, "Beg and apologize. Apologize for doubting us. For doubting me."

You could barely get the words out through your own gasps, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean it!"

"Good girl," Astarion huskily laughed, using a clever thumb to rub over your swollen clit, "Now tell me you love me."

"I love you," You said easily, meaning every word, "I love you more than anything.

"Tell me you'll never leave me. Ever."

There was something else behind that promise. An obvious implication that your fucked-out brain was too distracted to see.

"Never," You promised, reaching back for you him. You curled your fingers into his hair. pulling his head down to press his mouth against your throat. An open invitation, "I'll always be with you."

Astarion groaned against your skin, his fangs so close to piercing, "Precious pet, how could I ever want anything else? Come darling, you've earned it."

Then he was biting you, the brief flash of pain the perfect trigger for you to fall over the edge. You came with an embarrassingly high-pitched whine, slumping back into Astarion as he drank from your throat.

You looked as much of a mess as you felt, the stickiness between your thighs glistening in the light. You watched yourself, whimpering as Astarion slipped his fingers out. Just to tap them against your lips, forcing them into your mouth to suck on.

You moaned around them, light-headed as Astarion popped off of your throat. You sighed as he licked at the wound, enjoying the brief moment of rest. You weren't naive enough to think that you were done yet. Not when Astarion was still hard, his cock pulsing against you.

"See?" Astarion huskily laughed, licking the blood off of his lips while he played with your tongue, "You're perfect. Perfect and mine."

#astarion #ascended astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #asks #check the intro warnings #graphic #m/f pairing

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

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Can I request a fic where Ellie and Joel are traveling to Wyoming but before leaving they go to a store to pick up supplies

And Ellie asks why they are there and he’s like “I have to stock up for my family “ ( cause he left for supplies “ and she’s in shock he has a family but when they get there, they notice that the house has been raided and there are dead raiders in the house

So Joel starts to freak out and can’t find his wife and kid but then ellie finds them in a hidden shed

And when Joel rushes to them, he’s worried about the blood on her but then she’s like “ it’s not mine”

Sorry for it being so long , and it’s totally fine if you do not want to write it :}

A Mothers Strength

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader.

Summary: you and your baby aren’t where Joel left you, instead there is a trail of blood and two bodies he doesn’t recognise.

Word Count: 3.1k

Content Warning: typical tlou violence, reader bashes someone’s brains in, (out) Joel has a mild panic attack.

Note: I’m gonna make this so angsty lol. Thanks for the request I love you anon 🫶🏼🥰 this is one of my new faves!!!!

If there’s one thing Joel taught you; it’s not to panic, to think rationally and do what you have to do to protect yourself; to make sure you were the one that survived, no matter what that entailed. Joel was gone, he had gone to do one last trip to the Boston QZ, he had gone to trade some pills and alcohol for a car battery, he had found a truck a while back but the battery was busted, he claimed Tess knew someone who had one, he hated leaving you, and your 6 month old daughter. But he knew if you had a car, it would ensure safety compared to travelling on foot. That was 5 days ago, it wasn’t unlikely that something had happened, trading in itself was a danger that set you on edge, let alone travelling by himself back and forth with one measly gun and a whole city worth of infected, however many were out there, you would imagine it’s a lot. You had to learn to fight while you were pregnant, you couldn’t be in the Boston QZ and be pregnant, they wouldn’t allow it. Joel helped you escape and you’d been travelling since, looking for a safe haven and trying to find Joel’s brother Tommy. You’d learned you were capable throughout your pregnancy at taking out infected. Very capable.

Unlike Joel however, you had never had to face up against something even worse, other people. Joel had told you stories of when the infection first began, the things he did, the things he and Tommy did to survive, it was essential, survival of the fittest and you had never reprimanded or judged him for it once. Now you were finding yourself in a situation where you would have to find yourself in Joel’s shoes, you would have to find the strength to take lives of people if necessary, to protect you and your daughter. Joel had boarded up the windows and doors before he left, which apparently only made the raiders more suspicious, their murmurs outside becoming louder and more aggressive as they tear down the planks of wood, two voices of men can be heard. You load your gun quietly and hold it to your chest, your uneven breathing causing you to shudder through your nose as you purse your lips. You take one last look at your sleeping daughter in her small hand-woven basket, blue blankets keeping her warm as they wrap around her. “I love you, so much.” Worried you’d never get another chance to tell her again. You slide the basket under the bed out of sight.

“Hey, did you hear that, there’s movement in there. We’ve got company.” One man laughed as their voices became clearer you realised the protection Joel had set had been torn down; it was up to you now, to protect your family. “What if it’s an infected man?” The other man voices reluctantly as they turn the knob and swing the door open. You tiptoe behind the door, hoping that your daughter would stay quite long enough for you to eradicate the intruders. You held your breath as the door opened and you shot the first man in the head, his body dropped to the floor with a thud, the blood seeping through the cracks of the old wooden floors. The gunshot had rung through the room, you could hear the muffled sound of your daughter crying, her wailing drew the attention of the second man who had just growled, “fucking bitch!” As he charged towards you, he had tackled you to the ground, overpowering you easily as he knocked the gun from your hands, he’s heaving from the struggle, his gun pointed at your head once he’s got you still enough. “Gunna fucking kill you then that annoying fuckin kid.” Adrenaline kicked in at the thought of something happening to your daughter, you struggle underneath him and grunt, bringing your knee up to his crotch which he groans at, “you fucking whore, gonna make you pay for that!” He’s holding the crotch of his jeans when you find a baseball bat hidden in the corner that you’d stashed days ago for an emergency in case you’d run out of bullets, you hurry back wards and grab the bat, standing to your feet and before the man can react, you bring the bat down onto his head, he falls to the ground holding the back of his head to try and protect himself from the blows.

You’re seeing red, yelling over the top of your screaming daughter, rage overcoming you as you repeatedly bring the bat down over and over again. You only stop when your arms begin to ache with a weakness that makes you drop the bat, his brain and blood is coating the floor in a slick that you almost slip on as you step over him. You bend down and reach for your daughter, taking her out of the basket, shushing her, “shh, I know baby, it’s okay. Mama’s got you.” Rocking her back and forth until she calms down. You set her back in the basket once she’s settled, you begin to rip up the floorboards in which have your supplies hidden beneath them. “Well, we can’t stay here now can we?” You tell yourself. You pack your bag full of the supplies, food and batteries weigh the bag down heavily on your shoulders, let alone trying to carry your baby in her wooden basket that’s heavy enough without a baby in it. With one hand, you somehow manage to pick up your gun, turn the safety off and stick it in the back of your jeans. You have to walk over the two dead bodies that have begun decomposing, you couldn’t stay here, not with the smell and mess to clean.

“Alright little one. Let’s find somewhere safe to stay till your dad comes back, huh?” As you take your first step out of the house that was meant to protect you; you wonder if you’ll be able to find somewhere safe, if Joel will be able to find you. You just had to hope he would.

“My pack is heavy Joel, can’t we rest?” Ellie grunts in discomfort as she shuffles the heavy backpack in an attempt to try to get it to sit more comfortably, it doesn’t.

“We ain’t stoppin’ till I say. Ain’t got long left to go so stop complaining.” Joel’s fast on his feet, even though the sun is baring down on him without mercy, he’s sweating in his long jeans and blue flannel shirt that’s well outworn and a size too small, his stomach less toned than it used to be, it was a ‘dad bod’ as you had called it, the sleeves are rolled to his elbows. The skin of his face, the back of his neck and arms are well golden now, after hours of travelling in the sun, the damage had been done and his skin was already tanned, he would have to invest in a hat, like you’d always scolded him about, was was sure you would again, after seeing how burnt he was.

“Ain’t got long now, just a few minutes up the road.” Joel clarifies, they walk along the empty tar road, the green grass is long overgrown, well over a foot taller than Joel, his eyes scan the area for raiders as he knows from past experience that they like to lurk in the tall grass and try to ambush you. It happened one time in this area and he hoped you’d never have to protect yourself like how he has, or does. “What are we doing here?” Ellie asks as Joel’s body had subconsciously led him to the small dirt pathway that led to an old house, the paint was faded green and peeling from the wood that seemed to be rotting. “My family are here. Had to trade something before we left for Wyoming.” For the first time ever, Ellie was speechless, Joel had a family? “What’s their names?” It didn’t take Joel long to notice two sets of footsteps, large, around the same size as his own in a boot print, he knew it wouldn’t be infected, it had to be raiders. “Quiet, get behind me.” Joel growls as he reaches for his gun from the back of his jeans, pushing Ellie behind him with the other arm, he walks forward and sees the wooden planks he’d hammered to keep the building closed, were now on the ground, some snapped in half, the front door was open and the silence was eerily quiet, Joel didn’t like the ache that formed in his stomach, the guilt, the fear.

“Fuck.” He breaths, pushing forward with his gun in front of him, the first floorboard he steps over, because he knows it creaks, “stay here. You hear me? Do not come in here.” Ellie nods, seeing the colour falling from Joel’s face and his orbs are blackened, his exterior is hardened and he’s never seen Joel look so fierce, she almost cant recognise the man in front of her, compared to who he was only a few seconds ago. Joel pushed forward, the dining room was clear, everything seemed to be in place which was odd, as he walks through the hallway he checks the first bedroom which is clear, again seemed untouched which he thought was weird, if it was raiders, why didn’t they raid the house? The boards along the windows had all been torn down, the windows open wide and giving the outside world a look into the house. His heart hammered in his chest as he approaches the bedroom door, where he left you, told you it would be okay, that you would be safe. He almost can’t find the will to turn the knob, scared of what lies inside the room.

When he turns the knob, he’s not expected to be hit with a stench so foul he’s taking a few steps back, he almost pulls his shirt over his nose just to try to mask it, he pulls out a bandana and secures it around the back of his neck, giving him some relief from the smell, but not much, it was a stench he knew too well; decomposition. His body is shaking as he bursts through the door, expecting to find his wife and infant daughter, he finds two bodies he can’t recognise, one with a single bullet wound to the head, the other.. was probably the cause of the smell. His brains were splattered along the floor and upside of the wall, blood was stained and now black as it leaks through the already damaged floorboards, your baseball bat sits a few feet away with a huge chip out of the wood, a giant crack through the middle and brain matter and blood splattered up to the handle. He almost lets a breath of relief escape him, seeing the floorboards pulled up and supplies all gone he can almost conclude that you survived and escaped with the supplies, but where were you? Where was your daughter?

“God damn it where are you darlin’?” He says to himself. When Ellie calls out to him. “Joel! Joel? I think you should see this.” Joel steps over the bodies and closes the door, leaving the bat behind. He meets Ellie at the front door and follows her concerned eyes to a shed about half a mile away from the house, a light shimmering from inside the shed caught their attention. “Get out your gun.” Joel instructs coldly. Ellie doesn’t ask about his family, although she can piece the puzzle together, there was something in there that Joel won’t talk about. Could it have been? She doesn’t want to ask.

“Keep up kid.” Joel quickens his pace to a jog and Ellie stays beside the man, she suddenly forgets how heavy her pack is, and Joel ignores the way the battery digs into his back as he runs; but he’s frantic now, wondering what’s happened to you. He can’t, he refuses to lose you and your baby after all he’s been through since this shitstorm started. The gravel crunches underneath their boots as they run towards the shed, the light shutting off when they get within 50 yards. Someone is definitely occupying this shed.

“Stay behind me, got it?” Ellie only nods, she starts to panic at the thought of approaching this shed, she knew nothing good could come of it, seeing the look on Joel’s face scared her. What the fuck was in that house?

You hear it before you see it, the crunching and shuffling of someone coming in your direction, you had to cut your baby feeding off your breast short, lying her down and rocking her basket for a few seconds so she’d settle and quiet down. You pick up your gun that’s set on the work bench beside you and try to peek through the small hole in the wood, to add to your terrible day- two blurred figures ran towards the shed, arms outstretched which you figured must be guns. Fuck. You look back towards your fussing baby with tears in your eyes, maybe your luck has run out. You weren’t going down without a fight. Your adrenaline was still at a high from the fight before, your body still aching but prepared to gauge out eyeballs if that’s what it took to protect your daughter. Where in the world was Joel? The shed door creaks open, it’s a decent sized shed, although you knew there were only so many places you could hide. You heard a voice, a female, she sounded young, but you can’t underestimate anyone these days, anyone and everyone is a threat. You shimmy your daughters basket under the work bench, where you’d pulled a blanket over it to give her a better chance of not being seen.

You creep behind the work benches, hearing their footsteps you can calculate where they are, you’re going in blind, you don’t know how many people they could have hiding around the area, and that’s what worries you. You see a spanned on the ground and throw it, it lands about 8 metres in front of you and it catches their attention. “Did you hear that?” The girl says, her footsteps are fast and then stop. You hear hushed whispering of a man, but you can’t hear what they’re saying. It’s quiet now, they’ve gone opposite ways around you to try and box you in, one is heading straight for the direction of your daughter, by the heavier footsteps you’re assuming it’s the man’s

Fuck it.

You rush back to your daughter, knocking over some things in the process that gain the attention of the two people, you’re sitting in front of your daughter, the cloth barely holding up, you sit with your gun in front of you, your body aching and you weren’t sure if you’d make it this time. You see the girl first, she’s holding a gun towards you and she’s scared, she doesn’t shoot. It’s obvious she’s never held a gun before and you don’t want to shoot a child. “There’s someone over here, she has a gun.” She says in a panicked state, the man comes running over from behind you, seeing you covered in blood and arms shaking, his eyes are scanning and he can’t see your daughter. “Put the gun down,” he warns the young girl, he approaches you, puts his hand over your gun and lowers it. “It’s me darlin, it’s just me. Where is she? You’re covered in blood.” The panic in his eyes and voice is evident, his body tense as he kneels down to you. You don’t say anything, you just pull down the cloth that’s behind you, exposing your fussing daughter in her basket, in the same blue blanket Joel had wrapped her in a few days ago.

“S not mine, the blood.” You’re trembling as you feel the adrenaline leave your body, you were exhausted, eyeing the young girl that was standing there awkwardly. Joel picks up your daughter, rocking her with tears in his eyes, “hi baby girl. It’s your dad, I’m so sorry I left you behind, promise I won’t ever leave you again.” Joel turns to you, “cmon darlin’, we gotta get you up.” Joel helps you up, you stand on wobbling feet like a newborn foel. He sends you a concerned look and you turn away, “I’m fine.” You lie, he notices but doesn’t protest, he’d get to the bottom of it later.

“This is Ellie, she’s comin with us. Ellie this is my wife and daughter.” The girl awkwardly waves and you mutter, “hey, sorry bout the gun kid.” She shrugs, “no big deal. You seem like you’ve had a worse day than mine.” You just shrug in respond, not wanting to talk about it.

Joel makes quick work of putting the new battery in the truck and it starts, having half a tank of fuel your luck is beginning to change. You pack the supplies into the car and Joel begins to drive, it doesn’t take Ellie long to fall asleep in the backseat. Joel’s hand rests on your leg, trying to offer some comfort. “We don’t have to talk about it, jus know I’m here for you.” You look away as you start crying, tears just fall one after another. “Said he was gonna hurt our baby, I just lost it Joel, I blacked out I just- I had to protect her. I don’t even feel guilty, that’s the worst part. I took a life so brutally and I don’t even feel bad about it.” You look to Joel and his eyes are soft, the wrinkles on his head are prominent as he frowns softly. “You did what you had to do darlin’. You kept our family safe. He was a bad man, he got what was comin’ to him. You don’t ever feel bad for protecting your family. You won’t ever have to do it again. I ain’t ever leavin’ you two again, I promise you.” Joel’s own eyes start to blur as tears fell from them, from fear and relief. “Joel?” Your voice is quiet as he looks to you, “are you okay?” He sighs, trying to even his breathing. “I saw the windows and the door open and I just thought the worst, then I smelt the blood and I was terrified that I was goin to find you and-“ he chokes up, unable to finish the sentence, he thought he would find you and your daughter dead. “We’re okay Joel. I fought, just like you taught me to.”

“An now I’m never gonna leave again, can’t risk losing you two, not after everything.” “I know Joel, I believe you.” There’s a moments silence between you when you notice how burnt he is. “You’re sunburnt.” You deadpan, unamused. Joel looks bashful as he rubs the back of his sunburnt neck, “I know. Promise I’ll get a hat soon.”

#pedro pascal #joel miller #angst #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x you #Ellie Williams #mum x reader Joel miller #dad joel Miller

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