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thecousinsdangereux · 3 years

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the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

#bumbleby #writing #rwby #bees racer au #for #corvophobia #<33333 #just a little something for a birthday treat

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iwantutobehapppier · 3 years

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We Will Wake Up

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader Summary: Steve and Bucky seemed to be everywhere you looked, certainly this familiarity between the three of you would only bode well when you seek refuge at their place during the Shutdown. Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Steve Rogers, somnophilia, dubcon bordering on noncon. Please if any of this bothers you read no further. There will be more fics for Festival of Smut with little to no dark themes. Word Count: 2,536 A/N: Happy 2nd night of Chanukah! I give you some dark/creep Steve. I have been tinkering with this one for a long time now. @sapphirescrolls really helped fuel this along with Tyler by the Toadies.

You know Steve’s there. He’s always there now. He knows you know. He parades around as if his presence is pure coincidence. It is equal parts laughable and concerning.

Looking out the corner of your eye you catch the tall bulky frame of his best friend Bucky beside him as they wait for their coffee. Bucky a man of little flourish in coffee grabs his cup and sits right across from you at the table outside of the little coffee shop. Outside seating more comfortable for you given the current pandemic. But your two shadows didn’t have any worry about the pandemic with the Super Soldier Serum.

Steve and Bucky were great people. Working with them when it came to PR had its challenges but overall a joy. Not only that but you were pleased to become friends with them. That was months ago. Now they were showing up everywhere you went outside of the regular

Compound encounters. However, you had noticed Steve was sans his pal more often than not in recent encounters.

“You should stay in the compound with us,” Bucky offers a solution to your current dilemma. You frown at his suggestion. Steve’s waiting for his drink inside of the coffee shop they both happened to show up to this morning.

A coffee shop you had never gone to before in an attempt to test your theory about being possibly followed. The results, worrisome

“I mean,” Bucky leans over his cup keeping eye contact. “You’ve said it yourself, they’re starting the shutdown soon and you’re not sure how long you can spend being completely alone.” You look away at his intense gaze only to catch Steve’s eye as he sits next to you at the four top.

“What are you two talking about?” An easy smile falls over Steve’s face before he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Just that she should stay with us,” Steve nearly spits out his drink, and Buck chuckles at his expense. “You know, staying with us would be much more entertaining than being alone.” Bucky leans over the table looks at Steve directly when he stops.

Steve nods his head, taking the lead.

“You know the Compound ground fairly well,” Steve continues. “It’ll be fully stocked to last the shutdown and then some.”

Nibbling on your bottom lip in equal worry and contemplation you worked out in your head, ways to refuse the offer without coming off as a heinous bitch.

“Wouldn’t you guys be coming and going during missions?” You scrunched your face up. “I think that would put me at risk of contagion.”

“That’s the greatest part about it,” Bucky leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “We’ll be there too. Unless the worst happens, and then we’ll get testing to make sure we’re not carriers before we come back home,” he pauses looking at Steve then you, “to you.”

Steve clears his throat shifting in his seat you tilt your head to the side watching him. “Are you okay Steve?”

“Mm?” he looks directly at you for longer than fleeting seconds. “Yes,” he pauses. “I really think you should consider the offer.” His hand rests on your knee, the heat emitting off him almost too much for the end of March in New York City.

“We have a spare room in our apartment there,” He watches you nibble on your lip once again, he shifts to Bucky who just nods his head towards you. “We’ll get it set up just the way you want and I swear we won’t leave dishes in the sink.”

Bucky chuckles, “I agreed to no such thing,” Steve cuts his eyes at his pal. “Fine,” Bucky huffs folding his arms over his chest pouting.

You can’t help but laugh at the two of them, much like a married couple. Maybe having their banter around would be helpful to ease the worrisome a pandemic causes? Perhaps the following was because the two had so few friends outside the compound as is and they’ve often said how welcoming you make them feel. Without letting yourself fret any more over the decision you made your choice.

“Okay,” you nodded your head, Steve’s hand on you clasping around your knee. “When can I move in?”

The smile that illuminates Steve’s face bright enough to light up the sky of NYC you were sure of it. However, the grip on your knee makes something in your hindbrain whisper “Be careful.”

You had been doing so well, it was a month in and the situation was proving rewarding for all parties. You had a nice state of the art abode, they had a personal chef in you and you all had each other for company.

Working from home was not an issue at all, they left you alone when you were working. You only saw them when you’d pause for lunch, where they always seemed to in the kitchen waiting for you. After work would normally be some type of movie to watch for them to catch up, sharing music or the rare occasion Steve drawing you as you read.

It was nice and oddly domestic bliss but it seemed to change one drunken night when you kissed Steve. It wasn’t meant to be anything, you were drunk feeling good and he was making you feel good. With his compliments and attention before you knew it your lips were on his. He didn’t respond which left you feeling completely foolish.

Not that you wanted anything to happen between you and Steve, you didn’t, right? He was handsome, and god knows he was packing with what your eyes have beheld when he comes back from his work on in his grey sweats. So maybe you did? Or was it the cabin fever?

However, after that, it’s a fat chance anything would happen as he avoided you the next day. Bucky told you it was just his nerves that “He’s never had a hot dame like you into him.”

Luck was on your side two nights later when Steve ventured out of his room for a movie night. A romance on no less, and Bucky suspiciously dipping out early claiming he was exhausted. That left you and Steve miles apart on the couch until Steve slid down to your side, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. He pulled you close and when you tried to pull back for some space for civility you couldn’t budge him.

When the romantic duo of the film finally kiss you can’t help but look at Steve from the corner of your eye. Steve is staring at you, a light blush on his cheeks. He leans forward, and before you know what’s happening his lips are on yours. You’re quite shocked given the drunken kiss you gave him.

It takes only a moment for your lips to soften on his. The pleased sigh he emits warming your body up almost more than the kiss. With tentative movement, his tongue trails only your bottom lip, and your open your mouth on reflex. Then the flood gates are open, he’s pulling you into his lap, arms holding you secure as you both make up for the last quarter of the film.

As the credits roll you finally part, lips chapped and swollen. You feel your cheeks warm as you look away. Well, this certainly wasn’t your plan. Steve clears his throat and you look back at him.

“I had wanted to do that for a while,” You give a shy smile in response.

“I think,” you pull yourself off his lap. “It was worth the wait and just enough.” Needing to keep your distance before you let this go farther than it should. Sleeping with someone who was kindly housing you rent-free was not the smartest move in your opinion.

Steve nods in agreement though his brow furrow with agitation. He was fairly certain his night would go somewhere else and the uncomfortable tightness of his pants had to be dealt with.

“I suppose you’re right,” he shifts on the couch and you pretend not to see the bulge in his pants that you had without a doubt felt just a moment underneath you. “I say we call it a night.” Steve veining confidence to take control of the night.

Nodding in agreement. “Good night Steve,” as you go to turn he stands up and grabs your wrist pulling you into him capturing your lips one last time.

Letting you go when you pull apart he smiles. “Just had to have one more,” tucking your hair behind your ear you can’t help but smile, “Sweet dreams.” He releases your hand as you turn once more to retreat to your room.

His eyes glower at your disappearing figure, eyes tracing the flare of your hips and lush back side. He wasn’t sure he could wait for another night to continue this path you two were on. One he desperately wanted.

You were awake and abruptly so.

You felt, full? Oddly so? An ache and stretch in your lower abdomen the first sensations as you wake up. Then it’s the way you feel your pelvis flex against something. Eyes opening the room is still dark, your eyelids feel heavier than usual when awoken in the night. Are you sitting upright? What’s the warmth radiating at your back?

Warm muscular arms wrap around your body from behind, you yelp in fear. Your bareback is forced against a fuzzy chest. Wait, are you naked? Thick thighs flex below you and that ache in your lower abdomen is clearly all the way to your pelvis becomes clear. Your gasping for breath as panic sets in, your voice cracks in your attempts to call out for help. Who is this?

“Ssshh,” lips press against the shell of your ear. You’re cocooned in warmth and you’ve never been more afraid in your life. This sensation should be comforting but-

“Knew you’d feel so tight around me,” You’re bounced up by the thighs beneath, and the moan that pulls from your lips is involuntary. The thick cock lodged so deep inside you feel too good. It shouldn’t feel this good. The bulbous cock head brushing against that special spot with each re-entry.

“Ste-Steve?” you get out between your shock and pleasure. He holds you down, still as can be, you can feel the steady thump of his heart against your back. Lips the press against your ear slowly trails down your neck resting at the nape. His breath pushes hot air across your bare chest with a forceful exhale.

“It’s me,” His words a whisper on your skin. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” You try to find his words comforting, recalling how gentle he is with you, how attentive and soft the first kiss was earlier this night. How had it escalated so quickly?

Your nails dig into his forearms, his large hands holding your waist lifting you up and down as if you were light as a feather. It was disorienting. He drops you down and as your mouth opens his large sweaty palm mutes your scream.

“Normally,” Steve grunts pushing up into you. “I’d want to hear your beautiful voice,” He lifts you once more, his hands so warm and tight against your skin. His super strength made you feel like a sack of potato at the most. Slowly lowering you down his pulsing shaft you can feel the way he pulls at your walls, the sponge feel of the tip of his cock hitting your cervix.

“But I don’t want Buck to hear.” He grunts pushing his hips up and down, his thighs moving you without your aid. “These noises are mine.” He growls. His hand slips from your mouth to between your slick folds to rub softly against your little nub.

When you inhale to moan Steve shushes you, resulting in you bitting your lip trying to muffle your moans. “That’s my good girl,” his words warm against your skin as he sets a steady pressure on your nub in a circular motion.

Your walls fluttering around him he muffles his groan. “Fuck, baby girl,” his fingers digging into your hip. Steve’s hands move to lift you up, almost completely off his cock the wide tip sitting at the opening. For a brief moment, you think it’s over whatever this violation of your body is.

Then you’re falling, the push of his thick and long shaft into you makes your head jerk back. His chin resting on your forehead. Steve’s bulging arms wrap around you resting under your breast. “You feel me here?” a hand slips down to push on your lower abdomen. A soft moan pulling from your lips at the feeling.

Looking down you gasp seeing the slight bulge, no wonder it felt like he was splitting you in two. Watching the hand slip down further, two fingers slide down to capture your clit, giving a gentle squeeze. Your body shakes, biting your lip to hold in a moan tilting your head back once more.

Your hands grip his large forearm trying to pull his hand back. The sensory overload too much from being woken up in such a jarring manner. Trying to get hold of whether you wanted this or not was becoming difficult with each touch.

Steve tut’s in your ear, his hand pulling back to slap your pussy. Your whimper following the slapping noise. “Don’t hide how much you’ve been wanting this.” He bends his head, lips resting on your forehead. Then touch intimate and far more gentle than what he is doing with your body.

“I know you’ve been waiting so patiently for me to fill your pussy,” His crass words scrap against your forehead. You go to shake your head but pause when he rotates his hips.

“It’s okay,” his tone saccharine, “We’ve got plenty of time to make it up before Bucky wakes up.”

#steve rogers x reader #dark steve rgoers #dark!steverogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dubcon #smut #Captain America #Steve rogers x you #dark steve rogers x you

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alreadyblondenow · 4 years

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This is how you broke Jeno’s heart

Lee Jeno x reader //ANGST, smut, fluff?

Themes: college! au, strangers to friends???, popular Jeno, normal student reader, sad ending

Word count: 5k

Summary: He was your lover, and now he’s your professor. Lee Jeno is Valentines day, 2017. Lee Jeno is afternoon golden hour drive, windows open as you let the wind gush into your face. Lee Jeno is burgers during movies on theaters. Lee Jeno is the holy grail and you broke his heart.

Warnings: mentions of other idols, pairing of other idols, swearing, car sex, protected sex, rough sex, slight cheating, sad ending

A/N: I did this in one sitting so I understand if this is not loved. but anyway, this is inspired from true events. And fuck, I was actually getting teary eyed while writing this because I recently found out he’s going to be married so yeah. Enjoy reading another sad story about my love life! Oh I picked Jeno because he looked like Jeno :(

SENIOR YEAR

Three terms before graduating college, finally. Today is the first day of senior year and you’re late for your 7:30am class because of your best friend who doesn’t care about punctuality plus the elevator is taking too long and you’re worried because it’s a class you don’t want to miss because it’s hard to pass. Or so you’ve heard.

“Gosh, first day and were late?” you whine as your best friend hands you a medium sized coffee as a sorry for being late and as thank you for waiting for her.

“Since when did we ever went to class on time? And look at us now, graduating in a few months with good ass portfolio’s” she took a sip from her coffee as you both walk towards the classroom, “I wonder who the professor is” she added but the moment you guys arrived the classroom there were no professor, just waiting students freezing under the high temperature air conditioning of the school.

You removed your jacket and prepared your things on the desk, checking through twitter while you wait for the professor to come and boom.

“Good morning class, sorry I was late but no worries. If you come in late next time, I won’t care just to be fair. Please sign this attendance sheet, pass it around as I prepare for class”

You don’t know if he saw you but you’re sure he’s someone you know and you’re hands are shaking not because of the coffee, but because of the man right in front of the whole class. Your best friend nudge you shoulder, clearly you’re thinking about the same thing. “Are you seeing this?” she whispered beside you, pretending to fix her jacket behind her chair.

“Fuck. I thought It’s just someone who has the same features as him”

Lee Jeno.

Lee Jeno is Valentines day, 2017. Lee Jeno is afternoon golden hour drive, windows open as you let the wind gush into your face. Lee Jeno is burgers during movies on theaters. Lee Jeno is the holy grail and you broke his heart.

Flashbacks kept on coming the whole class hour and it was so hard to concentrate and listen to him while he teaches. His eyes looked at you but you don’t know if he recognise the girl who broke his heart. Maybe the school offered him a job? Or this is a part time job? Dropping the subject was your last chance and only idea to avoid him but doing that can make you not graduate on time. Fuck, you whispered to yourself.

After the class, you hurry on putting your things to your bag but not quick enough to avoid Jeno’s presence. Your best friend left you on purpose because she knew Jeno will not let this opportunity pass and as someone who knew about your history, you two need to talk. Standing beside you with his hands inside his pocket, looking at you as you hurry out the room. “No ‘hi’ or ‘hello’” his face is as handsome as ever. There’s not a day goes by that you don’t regret hurting this amazing guy.

“See you on Thursday, Sir Lee” you smiled like an innocent student and left him on the empty classroom.

FRESHMAN YEAR

Your first year in college is about adapting, adjusting with the surroundings, finding yourself or finding a certain classroom for hours and hours because the school campus is still not familiar to you. College is so different to high school especially when it comes to lunch breaks. Your lunch break is two hour long before a 5 hour brain challenging class. Good thing you have your best friend who knows how to kill time in a fun way.

“I bet your life will change in two minutes, when Lee Jeno finally enter through that door”

“Lee who?” obviously you’ve never heard about that handsome senior your best friend is talking about.

“Jeno” unlike you, your best friend knew every popular student from the higher batch. “There he is. He’s fucking handsome, I can’t believe him”

At first you didn’t want to look back, you just want your best friend to enjoy her eye candy of a crush. The way her eyes turned to heart eyes is amusing alone and you’re satisfied with that. But you are curious. So you figured, why the hell not?

Jeno was sitting with his friends the moment you turned your head towards him. He was smiling and laughing at his friends while he sits so handsome holding his phone. You didn’t notice that you were looking hard and that your best friend is the one making fun of you this time. It’s true what she just said, Lee Jeno will change your life.

“So how popular are we talking about?” you turned your head towards your best friend with a big smile.

“Popular. Girls write love letters to him and put it inside his locker and guess what, those girls knew the combination of his lock. That means girls are crazy for him, literally. Not to mention he’s smart and friends with the other cuties in the campus. Oh! He has a car, and the greatest mystery of all time…” she leaned closer to you, “Jeno and his ex, are not in good terms. And after they broke up before their freshman year ended, he never went out with someone again, he stayed single until now”

“Wasting his good looks and handsome body, and for what? For the right one? Tsk. He’s handsome but stupid” but that doesn’t changed the fact that you actually like him.

Your first year in college turned around, up side down because of Lee Jeno. You fell for him. Hard. But even though you have great feelings for the man, you kept it to yourself. Theres no way you will leave love letters in his locker before he graduates, you’re satisfied that you get to see him during your long hour lunch break and watch him smile everyday.

And as life goes on and Freshman year is almost over, that means Jeno will soon graduate and it’s time to let go of your silly crush and find another one in school. You’re not stupid to cry over a guy you’ve never even had a conversation with, but you’re sad enough that you got teary eyed when you found Jeno’s usual seat in the cafeteria being taken by some random student.

It was the start of Sophomore year and you have different schedules with your best friend. That leaves you alone during your two hour long lunch break. No Jeno. No best friend. Just you and the school’s yummy pasta, alone in table in the middle of the cafeteria full of young bloods.

“Is this seat taken? Sorry everywhere else is full”

Your mouth was full of pasta and you can’t talk or lift your head to see who it is so to avoid humiliating yourself, you signalled, ‘it’s okay. Sure take the seat.’ When you finally chewed and swallowed your food, you almost choke yourself with your own spit because it’s Lee Jeno. Eating the same pasta as yours, in front of you.

“I usually sit with my friends during lunch breaks, but they’re all gone now. Graduated already. Hi, I’m Jeno by the way” he offered his hand for you to shake and smiled handsomely.

“Uh, y/n” you gladly accepted the handshake, but you manage to keep your calm and don’t freak him out. The last thing you want to happen is Lee Jeno thinking that you’re weird. “Aren’t you a Senior? I mean, you’re kind of popular, so I know”

“Yeah. But not everyone knows I have failed a few subjects so, that’s our secret” he held a ‘shh’ gesture and continue eating.

Who would’ve thought that him failing his subjects will draw him straight to your life. It’s not right to be happy that he didn’t get to graduate on time, but you’re glad it happened.

During your time eating with each other face to face, you talked about how silly the school is for giving their students hours and hours of lunch breaks only to torture them with a five hour class afterwards. He asked about your stay here in this college and why did you pick fine arts, you did the same. It was a talk that you never imagined having with Jeno and you’re having a great time. Until those two hours are finally done and you both have to go to your respective classes.

If Cinderella had her time with her prince at the ball, you had your time with your prince in the middle of the cafeteria during lunch. Just like Cinderella, you don’t know if this kind of moment will happen again in your life. It’s not as if you can just leave your shoe and let him find you again, you just left with a smile, thanked him for his time and he thanked you for the seat.

You didn’t know, but Jeno was actually sad and having a hard time. He was having a bad day and he misses his friends, cursing this popularity that he never asked. Now everyone in school will judge him for being a late graduate. On top of that, he’s not used to eating alone and he was pretty worried until he saw you with a vacant seat. He didn’t expect to enjoy your company but boy is he glad he met you today. It’s like meeting you brightened up his mood, now he has something to look forward to during lunch breaks.

On the next day, you don’t want to keep waiting and expect the same thing that happened yesterday happen again today. So you distracted yourself with a movie. And while you’re in deep concentration with the movie while you’re eating your cookies, you saw a hand get a piece and you put on an angry face because who dared doing such a rude-

“Oh Jeno…” you were like a statue when he placed his bag on the chair and brought out some books to work on something, his homework maybe?

“Sorry for the cookie, I’ll buy you another pack after we finish this and after I do this stupid homework” he turned to his books while eating the cookie on his hand.

We. The word made you smile and nod at him, not wanting to disturb him while he studies. You figured maybe comparing yourself with Cinderella was wrong because your prince didn’t need a shoe for him to come find you.

After that second interaction with Jeno… A third happened, fourth, fifth, and so on and so forth. He depended on your great company to save him from his own sadness and heavy thoughts because being an irregular student makes him lonely and whenever he remembers not graduating with his friends makes him sad plenty.

You two spend lunch breaks together everyday and talk about everything and anything under the sun, talking about each other’s interests, laughing loudly at each other’s jokes like you’ve been friends for years and years already. In other words, you and your college crush became good friends. Maybe if you’re not destined to be lovers, you two are bound to be good college friends.

“Hey do you want to go for a drive?” the question made your heart beat fast because it’s a drive with Jeno were talking about here. You do have one last class for the day but, no one will die if you miss it just this once.

“Sure” you smiled wildly to his offer and you two made your way to the school’s parking lot.

The drive was something you will never forget because you’re with Jeno. Simple as that. The sun hits his face perfectly while his eyes are fixed on the road and you feel the wind slapping your face because he’s driving a little too fast to make it exciting and fun. He went to a drive thru and bought burgers for the two of you and eat it inside the car in the middle of an empty parking lot somewhere.

To Jeno, that drive was the proof that he’s falling for you hard. But it’s also a proof that he’s scared of loosing you once you knew about his hidden feelings. He shrugged it off and focused to the way you ate your hamburger that makes him smile but when you ask for his hamburger because you’re still hungry, it makes him happy.

That drive sparked something between you two. It’s obvious that he likes you and you’re not stupid to not see it, he’s just not saying it yet because maybe he’s waiting for the perfect time or assurance. No one knows.

As for you feelings, let’s just say you don’t know what you want. You’re still convinced that Jeno is destined to be a great friend and not as someone who’m you can love. But since he’s been your crush, your heart still beats for him.

“Did you know that a lot of girls are crazy about you? And that they can open your locker?”

Jeno let out a loud laugh that echoes inside his car, “I know about the locker, but that locker is not just mine. It’s Haechan’s, Mark’s and Renjun’s and mine. So every time theres a letter we don’t know how to feel about it”

“Oh my, good thing I never sent you one” you laughed to yourself too.

“So you’re one of those girls? You crazy about me too?” heat creeps around your body and suddenly you avoid his eyes, “You are…” he pretends to be shocked.

“Calm down, I used to be like those girls. Okay, you can stop teasing me” you shook your head on disbelief because this is not how you imagined telling Jeno that you used to have a crush on him.

“I think you’re cute and I’m not embarrassed to tell you that so you shouldn’t be embarrassed on admitting that you used to have a crush on me” to Jeno, that’s only half true. Because he doesn’t only think that you’re cute, he thinks you’re also beautiful and he likes you. Very much.

Since the day you two became incredibly close, you realised that you’re not romantically meant to be together. But you can see him fall for you each day that passes and you hate the timing of your lives even more each day for doing this to you and Jeno. It’s like fate was playing with your feelings.

As days go by, you notice Jeno is acting a little weird towards you. Little did you know, after that drive he confirmed to himself that he likes you and not just as friend. And because of that, he’s taking baby steps on turning your friendship into something more romantic.

Come Valentines day, you didn’t expect something special to happen this day because you’re single and no one in school is interested in you. But you’re wrong. Lee Jeno has something up his sleeve and he caught off guard. For the first time in your life someone gave you a Valentine card, a box of expensive chocolates, and a red rose. All that Valentines shit couples give out during this day.

And it made you crazy happy that Jeno actually thought he has a chance with you.

“Wow. From Lee Jeno” you read his Valentine card and blush like crazy in front of him at the school cafeteria. It did made you happy, for some time. For a moment you forgot that Jeno is a god, who gave you Valentine goodies in front of a lot of students who knew him. And that’s how people in school knew about you and Jeno. Rumours spread like wild fire, you started getting hate message all over social media from those crazy girls. Everyone thought you’re just that Sophomore friend of Jeno and they didn’t expect that Jeno will like you.

‘Find someone prettier’

‘Her vs. your ex… definitely your ex’

‘You deserve someone better’

All those hurtful words got the best of you and it made you small. But even though you got hurt, you figured they’re just jealous of you and you won’t let them ruin your friendship with Jeno.

Given the fact that he’s being confident with showing his feelings for you, and to be fair and to be completely nice, you just let him do his thing without hurting his feelings. If he wants to text you good morning messages and send you subtle but sweet phrases, you let him. If he wants to sit beside you during lunch breaks and not on his usual seat across you, so be it. If he insist on waiting for you after class and drive you home, you accept it. These are the things that you imagine him doing to you during freshman year but now that it’s actually happening, you feel weird about it.

Finally he asked you out on a date. Which you turned down because you have school stuff to finish and he completely understands it. And then he asked you out again, and you had to turn him down again. Because you really don’t want to go on a date with him.

“I think I’m doing something wrong?” he drinks his fourth bottle of beer while his friends listens to everything he says. Seeing the Lee Jeno so broken and frustrated like this is new to them. Turns out, you’re the only girl he’s interested with after being single for almost four years.

“Give her time that’s my say, maybe you’re intimidating her at some point and she’s not into popular guys” Mark pats Jeno’s shoulder and clinks his bottle of beer with Jeno’s.

“Any word from her best friend?” Jeno asks, and Mark shook his head none. Your best friend and Mark Lee have been dating for some time now and that officially put both of your names into the hall of fame. And a possible target of the crazy girls who are head over heels for Jeno and Mark.

Jeno didn’t understand why. It’s not that he’s so full of himself that he’s so confident that he can win you with his charms, but theres something different about you that even though it’s obvious that you only love him as a friend, he kept on pushing and pushing. And he wanted to do it until he can finally call you his.

Now that Jeno is busy being an intern outside school, you no longer see each other everyday and talk to each other like how you usually do. That’s how you met Hendery. Unlike you and Jeno who started off being friends, you and Hendery started off being sweethearts. And maybe that’s what went wrong between you and Jeno because you completely remember that you still have feelings for him the moment he ate one of your cookie, then your feelings slowly fade away each day you two meet.

You told Jeno all about Hendery through one of your calls before going to sleep simply because you don’t want him to find out from other people. “He’s a great guy, we went on a date yesterday after school”

“Two weeks with this guy and he can get you on a date? Wow” Jeno is broken, “I’m with you for over six months already and I asked you to go on a date with me twice…. you never said yes” the hurt from his voice is obvious and your heart is breaking because you didn’t mean to hurt him, you just wanted to be honest.

After that call, you and Jeno did not talked to each other. You wanted so bad to talk to him but you’re scared that he’ll get the wrong memo and that he will think that he still stand a chance. So yet let him be and you let him come to you and you focus on Hendery.

A few weeks after, you saw a picture of Yeeun and Jeno on one of his social media accounts having a romantic date somewhere. Complete with wine and candles. You’re jealous and theres no way you can cover it up.

“Is this some kind of joke?” you exclaimed over the phone to your best friend, mad and angry about what you just saw.

“He’s moving on give him a break. Besides I thought you don’t have feelings for him?”

“I don’t I’m just… offended because he’s completely doing this on purpose because of Hendery which is so childish! Oh my g- I can’t… ugh!” you continue to shout and scream over the phone but your best friend is in the middle of having sex with Mark so you can’t talk to her well.

Being jealous is a proof that you have feelings for him still. And you can’t give in to that because going back to Jeno will hurt Hendery, so you have to be smart and weigh things over. If Jeno ask you out on a date for the last time before being official with Hendery, you will give him a chance. But if not, that will be the end of it.

As days go by, Hendery has been going full out on showing how much he likes you and you come to the realization that you actually love Hendery already. Jeno on the other hand, haven’t talked to you since then, no hi or hello. And the thought of Jeno is the only thing that’s stopping you from making it official with Hendery. Of course you feel bad, it feels like you’re cheating on him. And to be completely honest, you’re growing tired of this push and pull with Jeno.

You were eating your favorite pasta alone while you catch up with some readings for your last class for the day when a fine young man sat in front of you. “Did you just saved me a seat?” one glance of his perfect smile made your anger vanished out of thin air.

“Yeah I kept it empty until you come back” you were happy to see him, it feels like those days when everything was still okay between you and him. No drama just you and Jeno and your own little world.

“Want to go for a drive?” he raised his eyebrows twice, luring you to miss another class for a drive with him. And because you miss him so bad, the next thing you know you’re watching a scary movie with burgers on your hands sitting closely with each other. His warmth is enough to make you feel safe and not scared with the movie and when the burgers are all finished, your hands are intertwined unconsciously.

You were both quiet when you got back to his car because of the movie you just watched. Both too scared and weirded out with how the story ended. “At least they died together”

“Yeah” you agreed immediately but you two stayed quiet.

“Did you know that you were holding my hand?”

You snap your head and looked at him, shy to answer what he asked you but theres no escape and you can’t make an excuse. “Yeah, sorry about tha-“

He’s quick to to grab your hand and hold it firmly you feel like your bones are starting to crush. It hurts but there’s no words coming out from your mouth. He made you face him with his free hand and leaned towards your face to kiss you. Just a peck as if he’s testing waters.

Then you kissed him back. And the kiss became heated that he pulled you close to him and invited you to sit on his lap, legs on the driver’s seat, his arms around your waist and yours is looking for something you can grasp because his kisses are intense.

“Why can’t you love me? Huh?” you see the hurt in his eyes when you peek in between kisses and you felt guilty. Tears run down to his face but you don’t know if it’s tears of joy or out of sadness.

“Jeno, please stop crying” you beg, breathing hard and gasping. But he never stopped.

“Say you love me” his hug against your waist tightens more as if he never wanted you leave his car, “say you love me, please” he sobs.

His begging made you do it, “I love you. Please stop crying, you don’t deserve this”

Hearing those words made him relax and loosen up his crushing embrace. His hand creeps to the hem of your shirt, playing with your tummy tickling it because he knows you’re ticklish. That changed the mood, he undid your pants and made some space so you can remove it easily. He did the same thing with his pants and boxer briefs and reached for the console to get a condom which he quickly rolled to his cock before you get back on top of him.

He motions you back close to him and put a little spit on his fingers before playing with your slit, checking if you’re ready to be fucked. “You’re not a virgin right? I don’t have to be careful anymore” he asked with ragged breath, obviously excited for what’s going to happen.

“Be gentle, still. It’s been so long since my last” you positioned your legs in between him, letting his cock tease your cunt and spread your juices more.

“Wheres the fun on being gentle? But don’t worry, I love you too much I wont let you get hurt”

You slowly sink down on him feeling his thick and veiny cock and rolled your hips slightly to help you adjust more and so you can have rough sex, just how wants. “Ah- Jen if I roll my hips longer I will cum” he chuckled and took over, thrusting hard upwards your cunt. One hard thrust at a time, you feel your head bump on top of the car roof your hands push on the windows for support. Then his thrusts became faster putting you two on edge in no time. You were moaning and letting out sharp breaths in between curses so he pulled your face closer to him and kissed you while he fucks you to your orgasm and while he catches his own.

The car smelled like sex and you were both too weak to move after cumming. It started raining hard and you feel awfully comfortable sitting on Jeno’s lap. “Just so you know, I didn’t planned for this to happen”

“I know” with all your strength you made yourself presentable again and went back to your seat and waited for Jeno to drive you home.

The rain was making you feel more sad and guilty, swimming with your thoughts while thinking about Hendery. That’s why you didn’t hear Jeno ask you is you if you were cold he needed to reach for your hand while he was driving under the strong rain and flinch because of his cold hands.

“Sorry, what” you crossed your arms so he can’t reach for your hand again. Your mind is full of Hendery and you and can’t tell him that.

Jeno on the other hand knew something is wrong that you feel guilty or mad because of the sex. But he wants to be selfish just this once to prove to you that he loves you and this is the only way. “Nothing, I asked if you were cold”

Sex never felt so wrong.

When you came home you took a shower and cried for hours, avoiding Jeno’s calls and messages because you feel bad about what happened. You don’t know what to do but you can’t tell Hendery what happened, so you did something to ease the guilt that you’re feeling. You finally made it official with Hendery, your heart broke even more when you heard him so happy through the phone because that only means he loves you too much.

Then there’s you. Having sex with a friend who’m you used to have a big crush with.

You avoided Jeno with all your power until he gets the message that you feel bad about what happened between the two of you. Until the day the that you’re ready to face him again, you will not talk to him.

And that’s how you broke Lee Jeno’s heart.

SENIOR YEAR

What happened between you and Jeno flashbacks like a movie in your head during lunch break and you can’t believe that you can feel his presence around the campus even though you can’t see him.

It’s been seven ugly months when you and Hendery broke up and you have to admit that it still hurt like hell. Cheating motherfucker didn’t deserve you. The regret of choosing Hendery over Jeno haunted you everyday but you didn’t expect that Jeno will literally comeback barging into your life again.

Maybe this time life will give you a shot at the love you deserve. And Jeno is the answer to that. But it’s been years since the last time you talked and that was the night you two had sex in his car. What you did to him was unforgivable and you feel bad, you feel like you used him but you didn’t mean it if that makes sense.

“Mark is here, you sure you don’t need a ride?” your best friend brought you back to reality while you were swimming in thoughts. You didn’t even notice it was raining hard already.

“I’ll be fine. I can just call an Uber, tell Mark to drive safe okay?” she hugged you and went towards Mark’s waiting car outside the school lobby. You were just about to book an Uber when someone tapped you on your shoulder.

“Come on I’ll drive you home. Just like old times”

“You do know that a student-teacher relationship is jail time right? This is not old times Jeno. You’re a teacher, a professor rather. And I’m still obviously a student” you turned your back on him and continued fidgeting on your phone.

“And I’m being a responsible adult, who’s offering help to a student that’s obviously in need because your phone just died on you” he smirked.

“Fine wheres your car” you said, accepting defeat.

“Right this way please” he ushered you to the elevator to go to the basement parking.

While walking to his car, you didn’t expect him to still have the car. The car where you two had sex. And that is the main reason why you didn’t want him to drive you home.

The rain caused a heavy traffic and it made you feel more suffocated inside Jeno’s car. You cross your arms because you were freezing, clinging to your thin sweater for more heat.

“Don’t worry, I won’t touch you. Please relax, you’re breaking my heart”

Your head swing towards him and you gave him a look. A look that’s telling him you’re angry and how dare him to mention your past. It was so hard not to talk back because it can end up as a fight so you kept what you’re feeling to yourself.

“You make me feel like I’m a bad person when all I ever cared about is you and loving you” he added.

“Please Jeno, don’t do this now” you beg, closing your eyes and turning your back against him looking at the cars outside.

“After that night you made me feel like I’m a rapist or something. I’m sorry that it’s not what you want to do that time, I’m sorry that I begged, Im so-“

“I forgive you. And you don’t have to say sorry because I was the one who hurt you Jeno. Not the other way around, so please understand how hard it it for me to sit with you in this car. To make you feel better I regret not choosing you. There! I said it. Now please shut up”

The ride became quiet, awkward and cold so you decided to sleep if off. When you woke up from your nap, you and Jeno are in front of your house already and he’s waiting for you to wake up. His jacket is on your lap cover your freezing legs and he even turned off the air conditioning so you won’t shiver. It was a kind gesture you admit, and he’s still Lee Jeno who cared for you. Your friend. Even though you hurt him so many times and that makes you a heartless person still, you care for him. “Thank you. And I’m sorry about earlier”

“I’m getting married” he finally blurted out.

You didn’t know. You didn’t even know that he was seeing someone “And… I’m happy for you…” what he said got you speechless and you felt your heart broke even more.

“But I recently found out through Mark that you and Hendery are over… And I started to have seconds thoughts Y/n”

MAIN MASTERLIST

Story time

Is it wrong to admit that everything inside this fic happened to me in real life? hahahaha Except to the part where he’s having second thoughts.

So yeah the story goes like that I picked someone new over my crush who’m I became good friends with and that is that. hahahaha I recently found out that he’s getting married to girl, after me. And I couldn’t help but think that WHAT IF I chose him, it could have been my wedding. :((((((((((((( oh and yeah. he looked like Jeno.

#nct-writers #nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct dream smut #jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader #jeno smut #nct jeno smut #nct lee jeno smut #nct angst #nct jeno angst #jeno angst

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ladyc0312 · 3 years

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A Jikook Guide to RunBTS: 91-101

Sometimes, I think about some of the moments I list here and start to worry that I'm reading too much into things. And I'll be the first to admit that a bunch of them are ambiguous enough that reasonable people can differ in their interpretation.

The thing about jikook, though, is that there are so many of these eyebrow-raising types of moments that you could throw out half of them and still have enough left over to think "there's something up with those two." Especially in the following episodes...

Ep 91 "Mini Golden Bell Part 1" (Ep: 3 / KM: 1)

The ones where they make the best of sitting on the floor of an empty room and Jin and JK just barely manage to avoid murdering Tae over his less-than-excellent MC skills

03:35 - Everyone is confident that the "oh!" sound that's played is either JK or JM, but aren’t sure which is which.

8:14 - When JM gets the right answer, JK is the only one to clap.

16:38 - JK is once again the only one to clap when JM gets an answer right.

Ep 92 "Mini Golden Bell Part 2" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

15:00 - As he goes to measure JK's arm, JM informs everyone that JK's arms have gotten longer since he's been boxing.

15:54 - When JM keeps moving around while JK is trying to measure his arm, JK tells Suga to hold JM still.

16:31 - When JM's arm somehow seems to get slightly shorter from his stretching, JK gets excited and calls him "Jimin" (no hyung) a few times and then "Jimin-ssi."

20:03, 20:18 - When JK is singing his karaoke love song, the other guys are all over-emoting or swaying and listening, but JM just stares straight at him (and even looks genuinely emotional?) and the camera just stops showing him at a certain point. See picture above.

20:46 - When JK starts to criticize Suga's cham cham cham performance, Jimin tells JK to just sit down. And he does.

BEHIND 5:48 - After RM tries to comfort JM about his short arms by saying his legs are long, JK repeats "yes, your legs are long" and then sings a lyrics with JM's name inserted ("moon, moon, what kind of moon jiminie")

Ep 93 "BTS Marble Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

The ones where I still don’t understand this game but enjoy the episodes involving it anyway

0:42: Not jikook-related, but I can't not point out the adorable moment where RM makes a pun about how Marble sounds like the way Koreans pronounce Marvel and JK says "I love you 3000" to himself.

10:22 - JM and JK are sitting pretty close all episode, but it's particularly apparent here, where JM's arm is resting on JK's thigh as they read a question together.

10:40 - Reading the question is long done, but JM's arm remains.

12:21 - JM pats JK's shoulder in comfort after he messes up a question.

16:14 - After the heart-making game is over, JM and JK make hearts towards each other once more.

20:21 - JK taps JM's leg while sweetly reminding him that the pedometer game is difficult. Then they lean in to strategize together.

21:07 - JM pats JK's back when he ends up winning the pedometer game, then again when it seems like JK was tired out by it. BEHIND 1:15 - JK is sitting next to JHope in this shot. The next time we see them, JM is there instead and stays there the rest of the game.

2:10 - JK pats JM's hand after JM says that the winning team should share with the losing one so no one's feelings are hurt.

2:48 - JM appears to be sitting half in JK's lap as he explains his answer.

4:41 - JM leans into JK as he laughs.

5:51 - Another angle of the 16:14 moment.

6:25 - JM is half in JK's lap again as they watch the other team eat snacks. When JK says it looks good, JM gets a piece for him and rather intensely watches him eat it.

8:40 - JM and JK continue working on a puzzle after the game is over. When JM solves it, he shakes his whole body and makes cute frustrated noises. JK looks like he finds it adorable (how could you not?). Jimin does it again closer to JK's face and JK looks away shyly.

Ep 94 "BTS Marble Part 2" (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

4:20 - JM & JK trace a line with their fingers together in sync and the on-screen text informs us "two hands are moving like one hand."

7:24 - After JM and JK mess up in a game, the reach towards each other and hold each other's shoulders while collapsing in giggles onto the game board. The caption dubs them "dumb and dumber."

16:28 - JM has his arm around JK's shoulders (while continuing from last ep to be half on his lap).

23:13 - When they're going back and forth about who should do the challenge, JM puts his hand on JK's thigh (the far one, for some reason) to tell him that he (JM) might get a leg cramp if he does it. JK does the challenge.

24:12 - After JK loses the leg-shaking game by only one point, JM comforts him by massaging his thigh, shin, and calf.

BEHIND 0:29 - JK yells out "Jimin-ssi!!!" after JM gets an answer wrong.

1:54 - Another angle of the 7:24 collapsing together on the board moment.

4:03 - More of JM with his arm around JK.

7:48 - JM and JK stay behind to geek out together over some sort of kitchen appliance.

Ep 95 "Let's Play with BTS Part 1" (Ep: 3 / KM: 2)

The ones where BTS play childhood games

9:17 - JK whispers to JM to ask for clarification on the rules.

11:18 - JK falls backwards laughing and, immediately after, JM does exactly the same thing.

15:23 - JK comments on how small Jimin's hands are.

31:33 - JM shushes JK when he tries to give advice on the game.

34:32 - JK puts his hand on JM's shoulder and asks for a snack.

BEHIND

7:40 - JM and JK giggle together over something.

7:56 - JK wants to show JM a jacks technique.

8:18 - JM and JK giggle together again and JM puts his hand on JK's arm as they do so.

10:24 - When JK adjusts the cameras, JM says JK is the director, then congratulates him and offers him candy when he's done.

Ep 96 "Let's Play with BTS Part 2" (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

The one where we get the origin of “Rock Bison” - and it’s rather jikook-y!

3:18 - JM sees that JK is sad because he didn't get the top he wanted, so JM gives JK his top and takes the Rock Bison one that no one else wanted.

11:32 - JK giggles at JM repeatedly throwing his top in the background.

22:52 - JM and JK do a weird backwards handshake before competing against each other in the eraser game.

23:56 - JK claps for JM after JM beats him in the game.

31:11 - JK consults JM on which lane to choose for his model car.

33:46 - When JM reaches out to take a box that might be heavy, JK watches and stands up as if ready to assist. BEHIND 6:51 - JM stands with his hand on JK's shoulder as they watch RM compete.

6:57 - JM holds JK's arms from behind and acts as resistance for him as he does arm-lifting exercises.

10:19 - An off-camera JM tries to help JK figure out what's why the model car he built is so slow.

Ep 97 "Pajama Party Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 4)

The ones where the guys wear cute pajamas and yes the Behind picture in the second part is real!

5:49 - We see that JM and JK have been drawing on their socks together. More on this in the Behind...

11:14 - JK is lying in JM's lap and they're playing around with their feet. This one is also expanded in the Behind!

22:13 - JK pokes a rod he is playing with in between Jimin's asscheeks. I... have been searching for a less suggestive way to describe this accurately and I keep coming up empty. Blame JK, not me!

22:38 - Another entry in our ongoing "it's JM's fault if JK thinks everything he does is hilarious" series, JM collapses laughing when JK skips back to the group carrying a Cooky doll attached to the rod like he hunted it. (In JM's defense, JK does look incredibly adorable doing it.)

23:54 - JK reaches over and touches Jimin's hand and the camera immediately cuts to something else.

Note: For fans of JK's satoori, it comes out multiple times in this episode when he gets frustrated with various members after they get a question wrong.

BEHIND 2:41 - JM calls for Taehyung to come sit next to him. JK does instead.

3:04 - JM rests his foot on JK's thigh as they both draw on their socks.

4:07 - After JM finishes showing off the drawings on his socks, he points the camera to JK in full focus mode finishing his drawings and JM smiles like it's the most adorable thing ever.

5:26 - I'm sure you've all seen this clip already somewhere, but I'll describe it anyway! After JK tucks his feet under Suga's robe, JM pulls him back so he's laying in JM's lap. JM then puts his arms around JK as he grabs his decorated socked feet to show him while making silly noises. JK then picks up his foot to show his drawn-on sock and makes a different silly noise, causing JM to giggle. The shot gets cut off mid-giggle for whatever reason...

5:53 - JM rests his foot on JM's back while he adds to his sock art.

7:52 - When JK stretches his arm out to indicate some of the members, he maybe puts his hand on JM's back for a moment.

Ep 98 "Pajama Party Part 2" (Ep: 4 / KM: 1)

You'd think this would be a super jikook-y episode given those pictures, but strangely enough, there are no moments of note in the episode itself. Since you can see the pics without watching the ep, I didn’t include them in the KM score.

BEHIND 1:20 - JM complains to JK that he hasn't gotten any answers right so far. Some people have matched this to a round of the game in the episode itself where JK doesn't seem to be guessing as enthusiastically as he did before, perhaps in an attempt to make JM feel less bad. I mention it here because it's a theory I've seen a lot, but YMMV.

7:50 - JK shows JM that he has attached J and M balloons to his shirt while saying "JM" and "Jimin," making JM giggle.

Ep 99 "Florists" (Ep: 5 / KM: 3)

The one where we learn that Jin probably doesn't have a future as a florist

4:33 - When JM starts to get embarrassed because everyone is laughing about his birth flower name sounding like a dirty word in Korean, JK rubs JM's neck and then continues rubbing circles on his back for a while after, seemingly to comfort him.

19:05 - When Jimin looks confused after RM says he comes out of a glass bowl in Serendipity, JK lightly slaps him on the chest for forgetting. It's almost like it has some sort of personal meaning to him...

28:05 - After JK presents the bouquet he made (which he says represents all different kinds of love), JM says "I think I'll love it when I get it as a present." Translation note: As we've discussed before, Korean can be hard to translate because often pronouns are omitted. A more literal translation is "present if received will be loved." Most translations that I've seen interpret it as Jimin talking about himself as the recipient, but it's not totally clear. Mentioning this because I know I was wondering why this moment isn't talked about more, since it seems fairly suggestive that JM would assume JK was going to give him a bouquet of flowers he made.

28:38 - When JM explains what "Serendipity" means, he's looking at JK (I think - I'll be totally honest and say the angle is weird and it could be RM).

31:02 - After the florist picks J-Hope's bouquet over JK's as his favorite, JM comments that Jungkook's "looks like a real bouquet for a wedding."

Ep 100 "100th Episode Special Part 1" (Ep: 4 / KM: 3)

The ones where the show does enhanced editions of games previously played on the series and you will walk away with zero doubt as to whom the episodes are sponsored by

21:36 - When it looks like Suga hit Jimin with the badminton birdie, but he actually made a bad serve, JK approaches with his frying pan racket held out and an angry look on his face and starts to scold Suga. I’ve seen this written up as a jikook moment with JK being over-protective of JM. I’m going to be totally honest with you and say that I didn’t see it that way - JK had been getting increasingly annoyed at the other team re-doing serves and my read was that the moment was more about that. Let me know if you see it differently. Regardless, the more significant moments are the ones in the Behind...

BEHIND 4:13 - When JM is hit near the eye with the badminton birdie, JK goes over to him and checks on whether his eye was hit. JM reaches out towards him as he gets up. It's interesting to me that the others stand back and let JK be the one to check in on JM, even though Tae and Jin were both closer when it happened.

5:03 - Not a jikook moment, but JK is doing an adorable cheerleading routine in the background here and I can't not mention it...

8:39 - When JM sees that Jin and JK aren't messing around and JK was actually hit in the nose with the volleyball, he gets serious and walks over, asking him multiple times if it hurts a lot. He ruffles JK's hair before kneeling down next to him to check in.

Ep 101 "100th Episode Special Part 2" (Ep: 4 / KM: 1)

17:40 - JM tells everyone JK is good at this type of game.

BEHIND

1:06 - JK instructs Jimin (in half-informal language) how to work the box.

5:50 - JK calls out to Jimin that his photo makes him look like he's in a cartoon (and there's a slight pause when he calls him in between "Jimin" and "hyung").

7:09 - Jimin asserts that JK does look sexy in the "sexy pose" photo. He is imho correct.

9:15 - When JM is playing around after the game is over, he calls for Jungkook to cover him

100th Episode Special: Survival Directors Cut (Ep: 2 KM: 0)

5:32 - JM covers JK with his laser gun, allowing JK to escape. Not particularly shippy since they're on the same team, but including it for anyone who wants a visual aid for some sort of military AU...

#jikook guide to run bts #jikook #Kookmin #run bts

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cienie-isengardu · 3 years

Text

Lin Kuei: food

RELIGION <> ORIGINS / ARCHITECTURE <> FOOD <> FOR THE LIN KUEI <> ART <> CRYOMANCERS <> LIN KUEI SOCIETY <> MONEY & MATERIAL GOODS

The continuation of the morgianesffs-blog’s awesome list of questions about Lin Kuei. I initially divided them into smaller categories and the food will be the subject of the essay.

For the formalities, the original questions:

Food. What foods do they normally eat? What foods do they like? What foods don't they like? What foods do they absolutely love so much they'll stop what they're doing to get it?

I guess the Lin Kuei take on food may be stricte pragmatic one - they eat what is available. Preferable something that will keep them in top shape but everything will do, if necessary. Self-sufficiency and the art of survival are part of training so Lin Kuei would not have any second thoughts about eating stuff that people normally would not even think about. At the same time, there is a big chance that every adepts to some degree suffered from hunger and thirst, either as a part of punishment or test for endurance or a simply lack of skill to catch (steal) the food. I doubt the clan cares to feed warriors any fancy food, even more since the Lin Kuei headquarters (Temple / Fortress) is usually located in a harsh environment in which food is hard to grow to begin with. Because of this natural disadvantage, hunting seems like a good additional food source. It fed the clan but also gave opportunity for adepts / warriors to show their skills and gain experience (or in case of coming back with empty hands, bring them shame?). MK: Armageddon had the ice beasts marauding through the Arcika region - killing them could provide: food, furs, maybe some magic ingredients and safety.

Also, Lin Kuei knew about and used portals leading to Outworld - one of old comics, Battlewave #5, outright says the clan had a hidden passageway.

So the Lin Kuei could also get food from different realms, either by stealing the necessary stuff or as payment.. I kinda think that Lin Kuei has a system of related villages that serve the clan and satisfy the material needs like food and clothes. Maybe they pay tribute to the clan out of fear or maybe it is a more symbiotic deal?

Anyway, I don’t think the clan would spoil their people with any fancy food to keep the rigorous discipline in check - albeit the clan could put on a suitable feast in honor of a respected guest/client like Shang Tsung if the occasion required it. At the same time, I don’t think it is forbidden to taste new dishes once the warriors were on mission. Especially not on a long-term kind of job when clan members must pretend to be normal human beings.

Because of that I suspect that those warriors who work undercover in various parts of Earthrealm and/or Outworld may indulge in eating all sorts of food, from expensive to the cheapest trash food. Whatever the budget / occasion would allow them, at least. And who knows, maybe the warriors like to challenge each other to eat the weirdest possible food, as some sort of courage test? Or just for personal fun? You know, like many young people do taste the freedom once they are on their own, far away from a strict “family”?

At the same time, in times when there is not enough food, I can see the best parts or full portions being given to the most useful / essential members so the position in hierarchy may influence what and how much warrior is allowed to eat. Because let's be real here, (the old) Lin Kuei does not have a good track with empathy for weaklings.

Now, I’m gonna head into headcanon-ish territory, so keep that in mind, please.

I know it is a pretty popular joke (included even in the game itself as part of “friendship” finish moves) that Sub-Zero likes ice cream but honestly, I do think that cryomancers in fact prefer cold food over anything else.

(Human hybrid) Cryomancers are said to develop their powers as an young adults(*) and growing the freezing skills with passing time (which Bi-Han being the exception to the rule because he developed ice ability earlier than usual), so the older they get, their bodies are more and more adapted to hold the toll of cryomancer nature (like temperature dropping to negative degrees?). So getting inside them anything remotely warm sounds more like torture than feeding.

(Of course, it could be the other way, as needing the hot food to keep cryomancers from freezing from inside but the drastic temperature differences are not human-friendly. First aid in case of frostbite even cautions against heating the body too fast with too high a temperature to avoid negative effects. Which is why I’m sticking to cryomancers preferring cold food over anything warm)

The cryomancer kids may be less sensitive to the difference between temperature of their bodies and eaten food / drink - though I suspect cryomancer genes should not be dismissed even at such young age - but in all fairness, I can’t imagine Bi-Han or Kuai Liang eating anything else than raw food, preferably not touched by fire or at least deep-frozen / cold and ice-creams are both cold and can provide necessary minerals / calories to keep them going.

So yeah, I can totally see Bi-Han and Kuai Liang buying dozens of ice-cream boxes for breakfast, dinner and supper like it was the normal thing in the world. And probably keeping various deep-frozen foods in the fridge and eating it raw. To Tomas, Sektor or Cyrax’s horror, whoever was unlucky to be stuck with cryomancers on an undercover mission. Okay, I lied. Bi-Han would probably just send others to do the shopping so he would not need to deal with annoying people.

Bi-Han and Kuai Liang are capable of eating and drinking hot food because they were forced to learn that. That is why Kuai Liang was capable of brewing tea and why he used such a ceremony as a sign of good will toward Hanzo Hasashi even though drinking hot tea is, by nature, painful.

As for taste, I think both Bi-Han and Kua Liang like plain flavors. Especially Bi-Han with his minimalistic nature. Kuai Liang seems more willing to taste different food and drink under Smoke’s challenge or suggestion. Ice creams may be the exception but less because cryomancers care for taste in itself and more because they are okay to eat any flavor as long as it is cold and available. Otherwise, they may just freeze various liquids (water, milk, juice) and eat them as ice creams. Something that actually could be pretty frustrating for other warriors if they left a carton of milk out of sight for a moment only to find Bi-Han or Kuai Liang freezing it and eating its content with a spoon. Because of that, the idea of coffee or tea with milk could be problematic (controversial) matter. Bi-Han accepts only Hydro’s need for milk added to coffee or tea - once Hydro gets it, the rest of milk is a fair game. And Cyrax seems to be bold enough to guard any open carton of milk or juice and keep it out of reach of Bi-Han, especially if he was the one responsible for shopping.

(Also, if Bi-Han even decided to smuggle the outside food for young Kuai Liang, I think it wouldn’t be anything sweet. More like frozen french fries just to tell his little brother how earthrealm people eat it heated up. Just imagine the shock and outrage of little Kuai Liang at the human stupidity!)

Comics!Hydro, as a close companion of Bi-Han is the most used to weird cryomancers eating habits. Because of water-related powers, Hydro likes everything liquid or with liquid consistency - soups, broths, jogurths, smoothies, everything will do. Somehow not really into meat. Also, the one advantage of such power is that Hydro can feed on water if necessary.

In contrast to cryomancers, I imagine Tomas actually likes deeply fried or smoked stuff. Because without a fire there is no smoke and I like to think Enenra draws energy from fire / heat. Except the moments when Tomas is triggered by something from his past - then the smell or taste of burnt / burning meat (skin, hair) disgust him completely. May actually not like ice creams. Otherwise, he likes Czech food or in general, Central European / Central Eastern European cuisine because its taste is one of few things he remembers from his previous life. This is Tomas’ comfort food.

For me, Sektor with his obsessive behaviour is the one that tries to balance his food and reject the idea of eating anything for fun or out of curiosity. He wants to be in perfect shape and does not care for taste at all. To some degree, he also worries about how the foreign food will affect his strength, weight or body shape when on a long-term mission. The same as Bi-Han, Sektor is the last person that should be sent on shopping. However in case of the older Sub-Zero the problem lies in his abrasive nature and how he doesn’t conform to social norms (thus standing out too much) while Sektor won’t buy anything unless he reads the whole ingredients list and all additional information put on the package. Which means a shopping trip that takes like 10 minutes at best for other warriors usually takes Sektor around two hours, at least. You send him alone to shop for food and you are going to be hungry for the next few hours.

Considering how Cyrax is the most normal (balanced) Lin Kuei, he probably has the most healthy approach to food. Will eat anything that looks good, including fast foods ‘cause why not, it is cheap, edible and takeaway. And trust Cyrax to convince Sektor to eat that damn food too (the trick is to not let Sektor read what is - or is not - inside his meal). I don’t think Cyrax has a favorite kind of food because he doesn't like to limit himself. The same as Smoke, he may miss cuisine from his homeland but the general idea is to enjoy small pleasures like eating good food with companions.

Also, Cyrax is the only one that should be trusted with a shopping list if the Lin Kuei group for some reason ends in a shopping centre. A shopping list and the control over the trolley.

(Frost, like Bi-Han and Kuai Liang is all about cold / frozen food)

(*) From Mythologies Sub-Zero: “Sub-Zero learned of his ability as a young adult [...]. The ability to harness the element of cold is one that takes years of practice. It's full potential realized only by those who've mastered it at the latest stages of life. Sub-Zero's skills have the ability to develop much faster than those of the other Lin Kuei.” The fact that Bi-Han A) learned of his ability as a young adult and those B) develop much faster than usual at least suggest most modern cryomancers get their ice powers rather as grown up.

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honeybeezx · 3 years

Text

Armor - Oberyn Martell x Reader x Ellaria Sand - Part 2

Author’s Note: Hey all! Thank you for all the love on the first chapter! This one will have a lot more of our favorite prince and paramour and the reader is such a badass. I’m really having the most fun writing this you guys have no idea😄

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: mentions of murder, mentions of sex

Enjoy, love you all and as always, feedback is welcome!

——————

The brothel smelled of incense and sex. The men who had paid for the services apparently had no reservations about silencing their pleasure, nor the women. You were mildly annoyed by it all. You didn’t care or consider it lowly to work or attend a brothel, but it just seemed so...fake. People pretending that what they were feeling was love or passion when really it was just men finding release, both from sex and from their normal lives, and women getting their coin.

Not that you really knew what actual love was like, but you did know it wasn’t this.

One of the girls brought you to a room near the back. The ornate doors swung open to reveal who you could only assume was the prince and his princess. You weren’t really sure what you expected, but you found yourself shocked. He looked princely, certainly, but you weren’t expecting him to be so...striking. Bronzed skin against golden cloth...he looked like a work of art. And his princess was equally captivating. Her dark locks cascading against her dress seemed to compliment her lover’s own clothes. They both seemed to have a strong demeanor, even while they were allowing themselves to be vulnerable, wrapped in each other’s arms. Both of their heads turned to look at you, brown eyes meeting yours. You wondered how their gaze could even fall upon you when you were presenting them with the finest women the capital could offer.

The women you now know as Ros introduced you by both birth name and the one bestowed upon you through the tales spread throughout Westeros. The prince smirked and narrowed his eyes at you. The woman in his arms might as well have been undressing you with her eyes.

“The Silver Hawk.” He smiled, taking you in. He left his paramour’s side to stand before you. Your guard wasn’t easily lowered by attractive people, but even you had to admit they were both intimidatingly beautiful. The prince’s exposed chest and the heat of the princess’s eyes had your heart beating faster than you cared to let on. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My brother told me the stories about you and your silver arrows. Is it true that they were enchanted by the gods so that you can never miss?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I trained hard to achieve the level of skill I possess, I assure you.” The stories people told about you these days were becoming more absurd by the day. And you were slightly offended. To just be handed a gift with no hard work, no sense of accomplishment was no gift at all.

“Will we get the chance to see you prove that?” Ellaria asked hopefully as she joined her prince’s side.

“Perhaps.” If the Lannisters or any other of the terrible people in this city continued to annoy you, you didn’t doubt it, but you were not going to put on a show...Even if the Dornish woman did make your heart beat faster in your chest.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” She smiled with a wink.

You cleared your throat and focused. You were here for a reason after all, and that wasn’t to entertain the guests with your skill. “The hand of the king, Tyrion Lannister apologizes for his absence this evening, but he wanted to offer these ladies as a welcoming gift and hopes you’ll excuse him.”

“A gift indeed.” His eyes raked over you, the woman behind him smirking. “A shame that Tyrion hides such an exquisite woman behind the ugly walls of the Lannister dwelling. You should be out in the sun, letting more people admire your beauty. Too bad...In Dorne, it would be a crime to hide such a rare gem.” It almost seemed like the prince couldn’t hide his desire, even if he wanted to (which he most certainly didn’t). His eyes traveled everywhere, from the tips of your boots to the smallest hair on your head.

You’ve never experienced whiplash before, but you imagined it felt a bit like this. To say you were surprised was an understatement. Not many people could catch you off guard, but not many people were so bold, especially towards you. You could do little to disguise your shock and you took a moment to find your voice. “Prince Oberyn, I am not an option here if that is what you are implying.” You retorted, rather defensively.

“That is not what I am implying, but it is interesting that the thought occurred to you.” He flashed a devilish smile and you wanted nothing more than to punch it off his handsome face.

“That is not what I-“

The prince placed a finger to his lips and you wanted to scream with anger at how easy it was for him to silence you with one simple action. He grinned before backing away, returning to the Dornish woman. “Ellaria Sand, my paramour.”

“It’s a pleasure.” She greeted, her voice dripping with a sultriness that would have made someone with less composure than you blush.

“The pleasure is all mine.” You replied, trying to recover from their boldness. You tried to remain calm, you made a promise to Tyrion that you would make the guests feel welcome. Why he trusted you with this particular task was beyond you.

“Hmm, I doubt it.” Ellaria grinned her eyes still raking over you.

A room full of half-naked women and they settle on me.

Both of them, flirting with the same woman right before their own partners. It intrigued you that they both shared the same lover. Neither of them seemed to care much about the gender of whom they chose to sleep with, only their beauty. They possessed a different type of freedom, one you were unfamiliar with. Your freedom was found when you were hunting, climbing trees, the rare times you found yourself near an ocean. For them, it was shameless passion and love, taking pleasure anywhere they could get it unapologetically. Life was theirs to enjoy, nothing could take that from them.

Which is why you found the fact that they were singling in on your armor-clad body so shocking. You couldn’t comprehend how anything you were wearing could draw their attention in a lustful sort of way.

“You should reconsider, by the way. We are very generous lovers. What a privilege it would be to say we made love to the stunning Silver Hawk of the North.” Oberyn raised a brow at you as he took a berry between his teeth, tongue swiping against the tips of his teeth, making a show of himself before actually eating it.

You cursed your skin for becoming so hot.

“Let me make myself clear Prince Oberyn.” You began, finding some strength to your voice again as you remembered your place, your. “I am not a whore. These women here, they are your options. What you decide to do with them is your business, but I am a guard to the king’s hand and I demand to be treated as such. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must return to the palace.” You turned on your heel to leave, impossible without the prince having the last word.

“One more thing.” His voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned just enough to face him.

“When was the last time you experienced pleasure?”

All you could see was red.

“The first time I shot an arrow through an arrogant man’s chest.” Before you could stop your words they were already hung in the air. You were prepared for the prince to draw the dagger you noticed hanging at his hip, but he made no such move, his hands still around his paramour.

And he smiled.

“I look forward to seeing you again, Silver Hawk.”

“If I see the Red Viper again it will be too soon.”

You stormed out of the brothel, drawing looks from all those around you, but you didn’t care. They both got to you, in more ways than one. How did they break you down so easily? Not even the queen regent possessed such power.

And you prayed to the gods old and new that neither of them would tell Tyrion. You knew it was a false hope, but the last thing you needed was Tyrion scolding you and even worse, letting people know they could both get to you. Your whole life you let your rage burn quietly in your chest, letting it fuel you rather than consume you. But their smirks, their roaming eyes, their words made you feel something you hadn’t in a very long time.

And you threatened him, the Red Viper of Dorne. It wasn’t as if his reputation and stories escaped your ears. He was skilled with every weapon you could think of. To top it off, if he didn’t wish to kill you with a weapon, he was an expert in poisons as well. It was a relief that he wasn’t staying in the palace now, you’d have to find somewhere else to eat and drink every night just to avoid death.

King’s Landing was becoming its special sort of war zone. This was the game of Kings and Queens, Prince and Princesses, none of which you were. It was as if you had been dealt a hand that everyone knew you were going to lose. The Lannisters and the Martells, amazed you how two completely different families could be toying with you, a pawn in this royal game.

Oberyn and Ellaria were just the most skilled players.

As if you needed more people in King’s Landing to worry about.

—————————

“I like her.” Ellaria laughed, still in the arms of her lover. The couple had chosen their girls for the night but sent them waiting for a moment as they discussed you. “You were right, she’s stunning lover. And she has a bite, not many people would challenge you, a prince and a fearsome warrior. I fear we may have scared her off though.” Her smile faltered a bit at the idea of losing their next lover. She wanted you, and there was only so much time before they would be separated by their return to Dorne.

“She is a wild one. Not many women like her. I’m not sure I know many soldiers with her reputation and skill, whether they be man or woman.” He noted as he tucked a strand of his paramour’s hair behind her ear. “I did not expect her to be so offended by us. I don’t think she is as familiar with the pleasures of the bed as we are. We may have to...coax her.” He suggested, scanning Ellaria’s dark eyes, as if he were attempting to read her thoughts.

“She is a strong woman, in every sense of the word. That it itself is something rare, and she knows that. I suspect she thinks we are mocking her, somehow undermining her.” Ellaria noted, recalling your behavior. “She thinks we want to pay for her services, thinks she’s just another girl for us. You may have chosen the wrong moment to be so bold, my love.” Ellaria tried putting herself in your shoes, but it was difficult. Many people knew the legends of the silver hawk, the assassin who never misses, but fewer knew the origin of your tale, how a young woman came to possess the skill of men twice her age, maybe even better than that. But she imagined if she worked as hard as you said you did, only for a man, a prince, to single you out among brothel girls, as if you were one yourself, she could understand your anger.

“Think about it my love,” she began, “you did not exactly explain to her what we were proposing. You cannot blame her for assuming we saw her as another one of Little Finger’s girls.” Ellaria chided as she traced featherlight touches against her lover’s exposed chest.

“A gentler approach may do us good. You are anything but withholding when it comes to who you desire, and at least now she knows. But you may want to start winning her favor with some sort of peace offering.” She ran her hands through Oberyn’s dark curls as he looked at her like a man in the desert looked at water. The Sand woman knew her lover like she knew her own heart, and she knew she was not the only woman who had turned him on this evening. “Go to King’s Landing tomorrow and find her. Don’t apologize for wanting her, never that, but offer our friendship. That may be a good place to start?” She asked, wanting to know what her lover thought.

Oberyn gave a hum of approval before taking his lover’s hand and kissing her palm. “You are the wisest of women.” His hand moved her own so that her palm was now resting on his cheek, his soft, brown eyes still raking over his paramour. “I will go tomorrow to offer our friendship and make peace. I have a feeling that even if we remain friends with her, she will be a powerful and useful ally. She could be just the person we’re looking for to get me information on my sister’s murder.”

The prince’s face turned somber. Ellaria closed her eyes and placed a kiss to his exposed chest. “Do not forget that she works for a Lannister, lover. She may not be so willing.”

But Oberyn shook his head. “No. When I went to the palace the Hawk had her sights on Cersei the entire time. I thought she was going to pierce her with an arrow right in the throne room. She makes an exception for Tyrion, but otherwise, I suspect she has a distaste for Lannisters as much as we do. She may be at least willing to listen to my proposal.”

Ellaria sighed and ran her hand down the prince’s toned arms. “Perhaps, but I don’t want her slipping through our fingers. I want justice for your beloved sister, but I want her too. She is a strong woman, capable of defending herself, but she should not be put in harm's way.”

Oberyn nodded, but he could not shake the deep-rooted desire for vengeance. Every time he saw a Lannister all he could think of was his enchanting sister and her sweet children, and the unfair fate they were given. “I will simply speak to her and offer friendship tomorrow. Her spying was just a thought.” He added, keeping his calm. “We have to earn her trust first and foremost, a task that I’m sure will prove difficult all on its own.”

“Neither of us have been known to back down from a challenge.” She laughed before kissing his collarbone.

“We will just have to convince her of our desires.”

———————

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@ilikechocolatemilkh

#armor #oberyn x reader #oberyn x reader x ellaria #oberyn x you x ellaria #oberyn martell #ellaria sand #game of thrones #game of thrones fic #got #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gif #prince oberyn #oberyn martell imagine

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palettepainter · 3 years

Text

Coming out

A quick message before you get into the story - I really wanted to do something for LGBT cuz I always end up forgetting or not having time to finish any drawings, most of the time I just do art about my OC’s and what their cannon sexualities are - but this year I wanted to do something a bit more serious, if that makes sense I’ve always been told by parents and friends that as long as you are coming out to people who you trust and people you know who will support you, then in the end, everything will be fine. I’ve always thought that if I where to ever be bisexual, gay, asexual or any other LGBT term that I would be comfortable to open up to my family. My preferences for who I like romantically aren’t really something I think all about that much. I’ve never dated and thus far all my luck with crushes and boys has just been really bad - and as someone who was and still is incredibly shy about dating and pretty much anything romantic I’ve learnt to not rush into things, I’ll find out who/what I like in time Now that I’m older I’ve been thinking more on it, and though I don’t want to go too deep into this stuff since it is personal, even with a supportive family I still have that fear of talking about these sorts of things. I wanted to write this story to show that even despite the fact someone may have a supportive family, supportive friends or even just that one supportive person in their life - overcoming that hurdle of fear and exposing a part of yourself that is so personal and dear, is terrifying. It’s a big relief to finally talk about these things yes, especially if you’ve been forced to shut these kinds of things away (in which case I hope you are in a happier healthier environment). But even with that in mind it can be hard for anyone to open up about these things, even those who know they’re in a safe environment and know they have family to support them. I don’t know if I got that message into this story, this is my first time writing something that tackled LGBT this seriously so I hope I was able to do it right. Okay message over ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A story between Jaakuna (Comoress x Kashu, oc) and Jizuko (Monoma x Pony) Jaakuna in my cannon NGAU is gay, whereas Jizuko is bisexual. Jizuko if the first person Jaakuna comes out to, and Jizuko is fiercely supportive. So here’s a little coming out story between my OC’s!~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Jizuko had been happily doodling away idly in one of her notebooks when the door to her room suddenly opened, and none other then Jaakuna stepped inside. She rose a brow, watching as he stepped inside without a word and bumped her door closed with his heel “Ever heard of knocking?” She asked, brow cocked as she moved her head up from her notebook “I could have been changing or something” Jaakuna, still not saying a word, walked over to her bed, sat down, and then let his body flop backwards against the mattress. Jizuko rose a brow further, examining his face, though his gaze was skyward there was something distant about it, as though he was lost somewhere deep in thought. She titled her head, nudging his shoulder with her foot “Hello? Gunna answer me??” She asked, honestly not caring about her previous questions, but now just curious to see if he’d speak. Jaakuna behind closed doors with close friends, to her, was a much more quite and chill person, but that aside, he was never totally silent. When she got not response, she put down her notebook and shuffled on the bed, sitting cross legged besides him while she hugged an one of her many plushies to her chest “..You wanna talk about it?” She asked, resting her head a top of her toys. “Mngh..” Jizuko moved and picked up another one of her plush toys, and placed it ontop of Jaakuna’s chest, where his hands reached up to hold it, lazily running his fingers through the soft felt - something she’d learnt he liked to do with her toys and pillows, but something he’d always deny when she asked about it. “Something happen??” She continued, arms returning to her own plushy “...I think I might be having a mid-life crisis” Jizuko blinked “..Well, that’s something” she clarified with a slow nod. Jaakuna replied with a small hum “...Wanna talk shit about it?” She asked innocently Many where surprised when Jizuko would say Jaakuna was one of her closest friends, the two couldn’t be more opposites if they tried. Jizuko was small and dainty looking, she liked cutesy things, her dorm itself was full to the brim with things that she loved: manga volumes, cooking books, plush toys and pillows, all the listed items for a typical ‘cute’ person. Jaakuna was dark and grumpy, often brooding in the corner silently or cussing out something or someone. Years ago, Jaakuna would have been someone she would avoid in the hallways - but beyond that edgy shell was a genuinely sweet and caring person. Jaakuna was caring, very caring, perhaps cared too much about his close friends. Deep down he had a big heart, but like many typical boys, he struggled to verbalise those feelings, and thus ended up getting angry. Jizuko and him shared a connection with that, both cared a lot for friends and family, and yet both felt as though they could only be heard by yelling their opinions. Their bond was what Jizuko would call special - Jaakuna had let his walls down a few times, letting her see him at his most vulnerable. She felt flattered he trusted her enough, and in turn she never told a soul what he would share with her - what he told her would stay with her till the day she died, Jaakuna had made her promise that. “Mngh..” Jaakuna all of a sudden looked..she couldn’t put her finger on it. He hugged the plushie to his chest, peering away from Jizuko. “Uh..it’s kinda complicated..” he started “Yeah, a life crisis usually is” Jizuko reasoned Jaakuna’s cheeks flushed a light pink, Jizuko quirked a brow but didn’t comment on it, not yet at least. Finally Jaakuna sat up, toy still held to him. He rubbed at his neck with one hand “I’m..kinda struggling with this one, more then the others I’ve had” “Well, are you gonna bitch about it or not?” Jaakuna gave her a look “Whaaat! It’s your fault for getting me all curious! And why come here in the first place?” Jaakuna opened his mouth to speak, but growled in frustration and then shuffled the other way, crossing his arms over his chest. Jizuko shimmied down the bed on her knees until she was sitting besides him, and then waited for him to start. “..So Uh, you remember how last week I mentioned I got invited to Yurei’s birthday?” A bit random, but she nodded “Yeah..” She pointed a finger to her forehead, where a small grey horn sprouted out next to her bangs “Guy with the horn?” Jaakuna nodded and Jizuko lowered her hand “Why? Did something happen??” She paused, before her eyebrows scrunched like gathering thunder heads, checks puffed out with a clear scowl on her face “Do you want me to punch him for you?” “Wha- No!” Jaakuna waved his hand and shook his head wildly, caught off guard at her sudden declaration of violence though not surprised, tiny people where a force to be reckoned with. “Uh, anyway: I went to the party and Uhm, well..I-it was me, Yūrei and a few others..” Jaakuna tucked his legs up to him, leaning back against the wall as he still refused to look at her. “And maybe like, an..hour or so into the party we-Uhm-“ jaakuna gulped, Jizuko watching the movement of his Adam’s apple before looking back to his face Jaakuna’s face and tips of his ears where flushed red, as he looked like he was trying to hide behind her plushie. Jaakuna groaned when he caught Jizuko’s confused gaze on him, and then muttered something under his breath “Uh..What was that?” Jizuko asked. Jaakuna groaned louder before repeating, in the same mumbly dribble “I can’t hear you” Jizuko said after shaking her head, having heard what it was Jaakuna had said just as clearly as the first time. Jaakuna snorted through his nose, pulling his head out from the toy he was practically burying his face in “Ugh! I said we...w-we got round to playing Uh, truth or dare” “..Okay well, that’s not unusual” Jizuko said with a shrug “And I Uh- May have, Uh..I-I got dared to..t-to Uh..” The more he spoke the redder his face became, and he seemed to become more fidgety and nervous, looking like a skittish animal that would flee at any second. Jaakuna cleared his throat, praying his embarrassment wasn’t as obvious as it felt “..I-I got dared to..to kiss...Yu...rei...” For a whole minute Jizuko didn’t emote, the words processing - she let them digest, sink in - and when they did, she gasped “You kissed Yūrei?!” “NO!” Jaakuna snapped at her like a mad dog Silence “....M-Maybe..” he repeated in a whisper, as though admitting it was some crime. “..On the lips or?” Jizuko elbowed him playfully with a wink, and Jaakuna bristled, leaning away “T-That ain’t important! Ya little pervert!” Jizuko cackled her usual crazy giggle, covering her mouth with a hand, clearly finding amusement in her best friends embarrassing story. When she was done laughing at him Jaakuna continued “Anyway...Ever since then I’ve been, feeling...like-weird...it’s not a-“ Jaakuna seemed to be struggling to grasp the right words, and yet Jizuko had an expression that said she already had it figured out “It’s not a BAD weird- well, sometimes it is? Like, some days it’s bad others it’s like..not as bad??” He began to gesture as he spoke, going off on a tangent, almost forgetting entirely Jizuko was there “And it’s been bugging me for the whole week, and it’s so fucking embarrassing and, like!..You know what I mean??” Jizuko hummed with a slow nod “Oh I know exactly what you mean” she said matter of factly Jaakuna didn’t like her tone of voice, or how she was looking at him as though she pitied his own obliviousness. “Well- what is it then wise guy?” He challenged boldly, leaning back and raising a brow. Jizuko held her hands together as though she was praying, and inhaled, before she dipped them “Jaakuna, you’re gay” “WHAT?!” If Jaakuna hadn’t been sitting with his back to her wall he would have for sure tumbled off the bed with how hard he jolted, bristling like a raged cat as he bared his teeth like some aggressive animal. “I AINT- what for- F-For that?? That- THAT SMUG LORD?!” He barked a loud laugh, and rolled his eyes “I ain’t bloody gay” Jizuko remained calm as ever “And yet I don’t recall you ever having a crush on a girl before” she said, raising a brow in thought. Jaakuna slowly turned to her, eye twitching, Jizuko failed to cower “And you always spend a lot of time with Yūrei, he even sits with you to eat lunch! That’s only a specialty reserved for very close people” “That doesn’t prove anything!” “Oh yeah?” Jizuko asked, not believing him “Name one girl you’d like to date” “Wha-“ Jaakuna gagged “Ew! Gross! You girls are disgusting..no offence” he added the last part with a small frown. Jizuko hummed again, and Jaakuna felt nervous, feeling like a corned animal while she was some predator, contradicting with how Jaakuna looked to be the more intimidating one of the two. “Come on! Admit it! You like him!” “I don’t.” Jaakuna gritted his teeth “I don’t..like like him” he clarified, cheeks going redder “Fine” Jizuko leaned back, relaxed, and crossed her arms, a shifty smug grin on her face “...Name a girl you’d wanna fu-“ “Name a girl you’d wanna date” she repeated, holding up a finger “Name ONE girl - and I’ll believe you don’t like him” Jaakuna snorted “Hmph. Okay, FINE. I will” he held his nose high, as if to look down on her. Jaakuna sat back, and opened his mouth...before closing it, and licking his lips, mouth suddenly dry. “Uh..” Jizuko’s brow rose further, watching his flustered suffering as Jaakuna struggled to think of an answer “I-Uh-...uhm, R-Runa, I guess?” “You guess?” Jizuko tilted her head “Or you know?” “W-Well-“ Jaakuna made a gesture with his hands, looking more lost then before, Jizuko’s staring wasn’t helping him “I mean- she’s cool! T-Theres nothing wrong with Runa! She’s got..uhm, she’s..” Jaakuna trailed off, looking to be struggling “...Got nice eyes??” He said, sounding just as confident as Jizuko expected him too “Mhm, yeah, red eyes right?” She asked, tilting her head and leaning closer. “Not quite like the red eyes of your classmate who’s seem to brighten whenever they land on you” Jizuko said coyly. Jaakuna shot her a sharp warning glare, Jizuko dared on “Mhm, yes sir you’d love yourself a tiny little goth girl. With nice skinny hips and arms. Arms that aren’t strong enough to lift you off the ground ever so slightly when you hug. With no nice flat chest to rest your head against, no no. And no smugly charming smooth voice chuckling ‘JayJay’ to you in greeting..” Jaakuna gulped, mouth suddenly dry, face as hot as the sun as he became lost in his mind...Jizuko had possibly the most obnoxiously smug grin on her face that it could put the Cheshire Cat to shame. Jaakuan’s cheeks flushed a deeper red so quickly he saw tiny white dots “I-I..” his throat was dry “...I don’t get what you’re implying” he muttered “Yeah, that blush on your face doesn’t say anything~” ‘Shit!..’ “Jaakuna, it’s okay..” Jizuko’s tone took a turn as she patted his shoulder soothingly, the smugness gone from her face entirely “You know your friends and myself will support you!” She chuckled lightly “Sides, I’m in the same boat as you..” Jizuko pulled her legs up to her chest, pressing a pink cheek into her knee “Crushing on your best friend and being too chicken to tell, sucks doesn’t it?” With a small smile she peered back up to Jaakuna, who’s scowl has lifted a little “What I’m saying is that I think you’ll be happy with Yūrei and you can make him happy. You guys are practically a duo! Hell, for the longest time I thought you two where already together” Jaakuna has fallen quite, half lidded eyes boring into the floor with an intense look to them, hands clutching at the pink blankets on Jizuko’s bed. “I’m. Not. Gay.” He growled, shoulders shaking “Not for him. Not for anyone! I like girls. Period.” Jizuko gave her best friend a flat look and rose a brow, mulling over what to do “...Okay then” Jizuko unfolded her legs to hang off one end of the bed and all of a sudden stood up “I’ll just go ask Yūrei on date~” “Wot?!” Jaakuna practically exploded from the bed, jumping across the room to splat himself against the door, blocking Jizuko’s only means of exit. Jizuko rose her brow, smirking “What’s the issue? Yurei’s a cute guy, and if you’re not taking him..” she waggled her brows and Jaakuna bristled, squawking like a turkey “I-you- Dont you dare!” He barked “You’re doing this on purpose!” “Doing what?” Jizuko asked, tilting her head “You’ve said you’re not gay so there’s no issue! I’ll just go and ask Yūrei on a date” Jizuko took no less then a step forward before Jaakuna tried to push himself further back against the door “Fuck off” “I don’t see why you’re being so dramatic: you’ve said you’re not gay, and that’s fine!” A smug smile pulled at her lips and Jaakuna growled, spreading his arms further over the door as if to hide it was even there. Jizuko peered skyward and then slowly rolled her eyes back towards Jaakuna “Unless of course..you have a problem with me asking him out” Jaakuna’s lips pulled back into a grimace, baring his teeth like an angry dog. Jizuko was unfazed as she turned to idly walk about her room “I mean, have you seen him?? That body?” She questioned “Damn, he’s really bulked up since the start of the year huh? Not that you would know” Jizuko shrugged “Of course, I’m sure all his fans know. I bet Yūrei gets tones of love letters! You know?” Jaakuna dragged his nails along the door, something in his gut twisting - where was she going with this??.. “Mhm, I bet he’s a good kisser. He looks like the type of be good at kissing - you know? The typical jock hot guy that’s all good with romance stuff? He fits the bill!” She turned to peer at Jaakuna over her shoulder, making sure their was enough distance between the two. Jaakuna’s eye twitched, the way she was talking about Yūrei was starting to really tick him off. He tried to brush it off and act indifferent to what she was saying, but that was becoming increasingly hard. His body was tense, his breaths deep as he tried to keep the wildfire in him at bay ‘She’s starting to get real annoying. If she says ONE more thing about Yūrei..’ “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t already..had thoughts about him” Jizuko turned around once more, and was met with Jaakuna’s chest. She peered up, where Jaakuna was glaring down at her coldly. It was like staring death itself in the face, what she was expecting. “Listen here you pintsize twat” Jaakuna growled, voice like venom “You say one more thing about Yūrei I’m going to drag your ass six feet under!” Jizuko hummed, calm in the face of danger. A passive look on her face “Well it’s a good thing he’s not my type” The change in expression was so drastic on Jaakuna’s face it would have given anyone whiplash with how quickly his glare fell “...But- You practically just said you like him!” “And that, my naive friend, was a lie” “...A lie?” Jaakuna repeated, blinking “Duh” Jizuko said with an eye roll as though it was obvious “Yurei’s too full of himself for me. It was all fake, just talk.” Jaakuna worked his jaw, numbly pointing to Jizuko “S-So...so everything you just said was too-“ “Get you angry so you’d finally realize YOU have a crush on Yūrei? Yes” Jizuko finished Jaakuna sucked in a breath, flinching back a little. Jaakuna liked girls. He loved girls! There was plenty to like about the girls in the hero courses: Furora was smart and clever, yet fair and pretty. Runa was quite and brooding like him, with a cool quirk he genuinely admired! Furu was tough and caring, her witt as smart as her combat skills. Jizuko was hard headed yet kind, she was sweet, she let him open up about things he wouldn’t to anyone else. Above all the other girls, Jizuko had his respect. Liking girls should be easy, yet he felt a knot in his stomach, something clenching in his gut...like a weight holding him back. His stupid, stupid traitorous mind flashing with images of soft, curly hair that smelt of too much hairspray. Beautiful ruby eyes. A kind smile, bright enough to rival that of the sun. And a voice, as smooth as honey and as joyful as new lambs in spring calling out ‘Jaakuna!’ Yūrei “...Jaakuna?” Jizuko’s voice was gentle. She stepped closer to reach out for his hand, giving it a careful squeeze God dam it. God fucking damn it. What was wrong with him?? He grit his teeth, wanting the floor to swallow him. His cheeks became warm as, to his shame, hot tears began to blur his vision. He wanted to snarl at her, to curse Jizuko to hell and back, to trap away these stupids thoughts and feelings...but deep down, Jaakuna knew she was right. She had found the chip in his armour, she’d seen right through it, and unraveled the deep, very real truth. “Jaakuna nothing is wrong with you” Jizuko stepped closer and gently grasped his other hand. “Everything is gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay, I promise” Jizuko’s eyes shined with kind, comforting light. Jaakuna shyly met her gaze, his tears swelling when she gave him a soft smile...something fell from his eye. A tear, followed by many more - the internal battle surfacing “..I am Jizuko..” “Oh Jaakuna” Jizuko was on him in an instant, tugging her taller friend into a warm hug, nestling his head in her shoulder as she rubbed her arm on his back. Jaakuna’s grasped at her desperately, ashamed to be crying, ashamed Jizuko was seeing him like this, ashamed she’d been right. Ashamed he.. “I like Yūrei..” he whimpered, the rest of his sentence ending in weeps and sobs, as he let himself cry.

#Pride #lgbt pride #pride story #MHA #MHA OC #Jaakuna #Jizuko #MHA NG's #My OC's #Palettes art

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namfine · 4 years

Text

⊙ | 𝕷𝖚𝖝𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖆 : 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 | ⊙

Lust is an inordinate craving for the pleasures of the body.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

α pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

α word count: 7.1k

α summary: A loveless marriage drives you to a dark part of your city in search of the things that once made you happy. Instead, you find a man who awakens carnal desires deep inside you that you never knew existed. An impulsive decision and a loss of control make for the best paintings but driven past the point of no return- tell me, is it worth falling for?

α tags/TW: 18+, smut, bts smut, taehyung x reader, reader insert, artist Taehyung, strangers, knife play, blood play, rough sex, master x servant relationship, dom x sub relationship, dominant male, dirty talk, unprotected sex, affair, alcohol consumption, sex under the influence, daemon au

α part: 1 of 7 of our Seven Deadly Sins Milestone Challenge.

⋫ Link to Master List here

α a/n: Hello and welcome to the first piece in our Sin Challenge! We are beyond excited to share this journey with you, please check out the master list for the rest of the pieces which will be released once a day for the next 7 days. This piece was a blast to write but I did let out a little bit of my kinky self (just a tiny bit, it’s not too crazy) and I hope you all enjoy it.

- ☆.｡.:* Zesty .｡.:*☆

The minute you saw him you knew you were in trouble.

It was a Tuesday. You were out for a walk trying to escape the reminders of a loveless marriage that waited for you when you returned home. You were in what would have been called a dodgy part of your city but it reminded you of your old college town and you couldn’t give it up.

Litter crowded the sidewalk and you swerved around panhandlers trying to score a few cents. You stood out in your business clothes, the handbag a gift from your husband as an apology for his latest secretary fling.

You looked at the bag, the designer label loud and proud on the front. You can’t say you were surprised that your husband had wandering eyes. After all, that’s how you came to marry him in the first place. You were his secretary too, once. A fling that he started to escape his second wife. One you participated in because you were young, vulnerable, and searching for a thrill. You were always just another conquest on his radar, never seen as an equal and definitely never loved.

In college you never imagined living such an unhappy future.

Maybe that’s what drew you here. What led you to the little art studio under the neon signs, tucked behind the tattoo shop where men slouched outside taking long drags of stolen cigarettes. A quarter life crisis where you tried to grasp what made you happy in the past.

Stepping into the studio was like taking a step into another world. Darkness enveloped you, the walls a deep sapphire blue with spotlights illuminating the classically inspired art pieces. You walked further in, careful to avoid the other patrons, the grey stone floor made your heels sing and you wished silently for anything else so you wouldn’t draw any more attention to yourself. No one was speaking loud, only hushed whispers as pairs and groups mingled through the gallery, admiring the works. You weren’t surprised as you took in one after the other of the elaborate paintings that the visitors were both too stunned and aroused to casually chat. The works depicted some of life’s most desired and feared moments.

Every one of the paintings showed people fucking.

Every position you could imagine, with and without clothes, choking, bondage, everything. You perused the works, each one simultaneously taking your breath away as well inspiring a curiosity deep within you that you hadn’t felt in years. Clearly the creator was proficient in the art of lovemaking and not afraid to show it.

You zoned in on the face of a woman in pure ecstasy, her head thrown back, her eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt that sort of passion with your husband or any of the others before him. You didn’t think you’d ever had.

Something drew you from your thoughts and your eyes flicked across the room, surprised to meet the eyes of a young man. He looked to be mid to late twenties and wore simple loose fitting tan pants with a deep blue shirt tucked in. He was flanked on either side by two beautiful women who appeared to be deep in a conversation that didn’t include him, but his eyes never left you. He was striking, to say the least, with brilliant shaggy black hair and a smirk that conveyed a lazy sense of male confidence that you could feel from where you stood.

It was exhilarating.

Unnerved by your response, you broke the gaze and spun out of the gallery back to the loud street. You paused for a minute on the street, your back flush against the brick building of the gallery, avoiding the looks of edgy passersby.

Who was he?

You pushed the thought deep into the back of your mind and left the street heading back to the silent home where you knew your husband would be absent.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

You found yourself in that little gallery in the corner of the city a few more times that month. Soon, it was like your feet were bringing you there without your mind even realizing it. You would just wake up when you walked through the ornate gold trimmed door, into the plush dark blue of the room. It was better than being home, constantly reminded that your marriage was a sham and probably the biggest mistake of your life. Whether you visited for the art pieces or him even you didn’t really know. Regardless, you never caught another glimpse of the mysterious raven-haired man and honestly, it was probably for the better. At least this way you retained some form of plausible deniability about why you actually visited the gallery.

It was a Saturday, late in October, when you noticed it. You were working your way through the pieces, paying special attention to your favorites, the ones you wished you were bold enough to try when your eyes found a small one tucked into the back of a winding hallway. Like all the others, the only luminance was the small spotlights meant to display the piece and you moved down the hall to get a closer look.

It hadn’t been there the last time you visited, you were sure of it, so it must have been new. It was smaller than the others, more intimate, portraying two lovers, as opposed to some of the elaborate orgy scenes you had witnessed the artist releasing more of lately.

The male had what appeared to be a medieval dagger in his hands and was using the handle to pleasure his partner’s clit. She had nicks on her skin on her collarbone, fingers, hips where he must have pricked her before but she looked to be enjoying every second, a leather collar tight around her neck, it’s leash in his other hand that gripped her firmly on her hip.

“I haven’t seen you here before, is this your first time?” A husky voice from behind you caused you to jump and you turned around, your face turning beat red.

It was him.

He was garbed in a similar style as the last time you had seen him, this time black slacks and smooth red silk shirt. He blended into the darkness of the navy walls and stepped forward a bit so the spotlight from the painting bounced off his chiseled features. He was even more beautiful up close with eyes so dark the pupil disappeared and full lips above a defined jaw. He had styled his hair today slightly to the side and you could see a sliver of a flawless forehead. Clearly, he had been taking care of his body and you could see the peek of a toned chest from the deep v of his shirt. He was all dark shadows and long lines, his feet slipped into a simple pair of backless dress shoes. How did someone this beautiful exist? Did he not remember me from last time?

Of course he wouldn’t.

He had been surrounded by two stunning women and with a face like that, you were sure he was used to it.

“No,” you responded motioning to the art work. “I come here often after work. I really like the artist’s work. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he responded and you whipped your head back to him to see him hiding a small grin.

“You’re the artist?” You asked, amazed.

“Is that so astounding?”

You took in his appearance again, so casual and cool. He had both hands in his pant pockets now and was leaning on one foot, giving off an air of quiet confidence.

You shook your head. “No, I guess not.” It really didn’t surprise you in the slightest. You were immediately drawn to this man and obviously attracted to the artwork so it made sense that he had created it. “So . . .” You were eager to continue the conversation, get to know him more. “What’s your favorite piece?”

His eyes lit up at that and he led you on a tour of the studio, pointing out pieces he particularly enjoyed making or that he thought turned out well. You watched as his features changed from casual aloofness to one of childlike excitement as he talked about his work. It was late and what few patrons there were happy to leave you both to your own devices, and you continued for about an hour with no interruptions. It was near closing when he led you to another piece you hadn’t seen before.

This one was simpler, two people once again in the throes of passion but this time only the man’s face was visible, his eyes peering down at his lovers while he chased his release.

“Are all of your paintings. . . . uh” you searched for the right word. “Do all of your paintings contain such visceral acts?”

He raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. “Yes, all of my paintings show people fucking.”

The way he enunciated the last word made the hairs on your arms stand up.

“And. . . “ you couldn’t meet his eyes. “Do you paint from experience?” You didn’t know what game you were playing but you couldn’t deny your attraction to this man. You were walking a dangerous line.

He studied you intently. “Not all of them. Some are just fantasies of mine. I like knowing that my work can inspire others to spice up their sex lives. Give them ideas of things they might like to try.”

Wow, a real civil servant.

“What are your fantasies?” he asked, bluntly.

You met his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess I’m sort of stuck. Maybe that’s why I keep coming here.”

“I have some more, up in my apartment if you need more inspiration.”

A dangerous line, indeed.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t even know your name and besides-” you indicated to the ring on your finger and shrugged. “I’m married.”

The man didn’t seem deterred by the announcement of your marriage in the slightest. In fact, he didn’t seem surprised at all. “The name’s Taehyung and I highly doubt your husband will be upset if you come home with some great ways to spice up your sex life. In fact, he’ll probably be grateful.”

He had you there. Although it had been months since your husband had even touched you.

“Okay,” you replied before your brain could stop you.

“Great, let me close up and grab my coat. It’s within walking distance,” he turned to leave.

“Y/N,” you blurted and he turned to look over his shadow at you. “That’s my name.”

“I know.”

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Hyper indulgent.

Irresponsible.

Impulsive.

That’s probably what they’ll say about me, you thought as you followed Taehyung out the back door of the studio and into the crisp night air. It’s important to note that you knew it was wrong. When all was said and done, you went in with your head clear.

You weren’t ignorant. You knew where this was heading.

He led you down a winding alley behind the gallery, wrapping his hand warmly around yours when you tripped on some exposed cobblestone. He and you both knew that seeing the paintings was a cover for what he really could offer you. A night of passion.

The sun had set long ago but you found yourself admiring the way the street lights illuminated the crevices of the brick buildings. Something about being with this man heightened your senses. You found yourself entranced with the laundry that dangled thirty feet above your head, the steam bursting out of the old metal pipes that danced outside the buildings.

He glanced back at you, watching as your face changed into one of wonder, your fingertips brushing the edges of the alley, returning covered with dew. You missed the small, mischievous smile he gave you as he pulled you up some narrow stairs. Too focused on your heightened awareness of a city you thought you had seen every bit of you didn’t resist as he pulled you into a doorway at the top casting a predatory look at the lines of your neck, the curve of your collarbone.

You came to your senses within Taehyung’s apartment. Dark shapes rose out of the darkness and you felt a slight prick of fear in the back of your mind as you realized you had just followed a stranger to his apartment in the middle of the night and no one knew where you were. He released your hand, as if he sensed your unease, and began moving around his space turning on the few lamps he had but mostly lighting the candles he had lined against the walls.

Tentatively, you took a few steps into the room. The soft light illuminated the dark shapes to be a collection of eclectic objects that included a few nude marble statues, a large dark green fern atop a baby grand piano, and a suit of armor stashed in a corner. To say he was a collector was to put it minimally. He had the usual couch and dining table but they were buried beneath art supplies and hidden behind canvases of unfinished works. A single door appeared across the room, furthest from you as he lit a few more candles that you assumed was his bedroom.

Your mind followed your feet as you were drawn to a rather large painting across from the couch where one may have put a television, although Taehyung didn’t have one. It was of two lovers, gripped in a passionate embrace, not unlike the others in the room or in his studio. What drew you to it was that the people weren’t quite human. You couldn’t put your finger on it but there was something different about the way they gripped one another. The glint in their eyes as they fucked, almost predatory - but definitely vital. Desperate.

You tilted your head and watched as their forms seemed to shift before your eyes. Dark wings sprung from the male’s back, a spindly tale grew out of the female. You reached out, tracing the edge of the elongated canines on the male, your fingers moving down his body to the nails growing, shaping-

“Like what you see?” Taehyung’s voice drew you from your trance and you turned to see him looking at you from across the room, face shrouded in the darkness of the dim light. He was shaking his hand slightly to extinguish a match.

You whipped your head back to the painting to find the creatures returned to their human state. No wings. No tails. Just regular plump humans gettin’ it on.

“What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself, your fingers tracing the same hand that had grotesquely sported the inhuman nails only seconds before.

“Would you like something to drink?” Taehyung asked, his voice sounding off further than it had a second ago. You whipped your head in his direction only to find him behind the counter of the kitchen, clear on the other side of the apartment. How did he get there so fast?

“Uh, yes please.” You responded moving towards him and pushing the thought of the shifting painting from your mind.

Taehyung pulled out an aged bottle of what appeared to be red wine from a place called LaVeyan Vineyards. The bottle was nearly completely black, dusty like it had sat for years in the same place, and a simple gold trim around the edge of the label.

“What is that?” You asked, sitting on one of the twin leather barstools across from him.

He looked at you, a single eyebrow raised. “Wine.”

You rolled your eyes. “I got that, genius. I meant what kind?”

Taehyung pulled two ornate wine glasses from an old china cabinet and placed them in front of you, making quick work of opening the bottle. He shrugged as he poured two glasses. “I don’t remember. A friend of mine made it ages ago. It’s vintage.”

You took a glass in your hand, swirling it slightly to make sure it was properly aerated, brushing off the comment about his friend making vintage wine. Taehyung didn’t look much older than 28, you weren’t sure how anything his friends made could be considered vintage.

Regardless, the wine emanated a strange smell that you couldn’t quite place. You were no expert but you had enjoyed more than your fair share of wine in your life and this one smelled metallic.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice or at least didn’t care and brought the smooth liquid to his lips for a long taste. Following suit, you sipped it, smacking your lips to try and place the flavor. Sweet yet . . . . tangy?

“Do you like it?” He asked, leaning his elbows on the counter across from you so that your faces were closer together.

You nodded. “It’s . . . . unusual. But good.”

He smiled. “So, y/n, are you an artist as well?”

You shook your head, taking another sip of the wine. It was growing on you. “No, not at all actually,” you placed the wine on the counter, clasping your hands under your chin and resting your head on them to peer up at him through long lashes. “That’s part of the reason I was so drawn to your work. It’s something I have absolutely no talent for.”

Taehyung chuckled. “Ah, so you were drawn by my work. Not necessarily by me.”

So bold.

“I didn’t say that.” You traced the rim of your glass with your index finger, aware of the way his eyes devoured your every move. I am so going to hell for this.

Taehyung smiled, but it was a smile that held no joy. He smiled like he had a dirty secret that only the devil knew about. “What do you want, Y/N?”

The question took you by surprise. What did you want? Why were you there? In the back of your mind, you knew this was wrong. But there was just something about Taehyung, you couldn’t put your finger on it. Something about him called to the primal parts of your body, the parts that you usually buried deep inside yourself. He made you want to throw caution to the wind and just let go of your inhibitions.

It wasn’t only that he was probably the most attractive man you’d ever seen, although that helped, it was his entire aura. The manor in which he conducted himself, his confidence, the deep timbre of his voice.

You were losing control.

You lifted the wine glass to your lips, now less than half full and took a long sip, considering your answer.

“I want to have a choice in my life for once, I want to do what I want to do. Not what someone else tells me I should do.”

Taehyung seemed to like that answer. He stared at you thoughtfully as he polished off his glass.

“What about you? What do you want?” you asked.

The dim lighting couldn’t hide the glint in his eyes as he reached to grab the bottle of wine, pouring himself another full glass. The dark red liquid swirled slowly, guided by an expert hand and he brought it to his full lips to take a sip before answering your question.

“I want you.”

You were taken aback by his curtness, you had only just met after all. You brought your wine glass to your lips and tipped it back only to stop abruptly. The liquid at the edge of your mouth wasn’t wine.

You pulled the glass back and for a brief second you stared at the liquid, thicker than wine but just as dark. You dipped a single finger into the glass. The liquid was room temperature, as all red wine should be, but slightly heavier in viscosity. You lifted the red coated finger to your lips, inserting the finger into your mouth. The liquid was metallic in taste, different than it had tasted mere minutes before. Taehyung’s eyes watched you intently.

It was almost like the more you drank the more you wanted him. The wine acting as some sort of criminal aphrodisiac, pushing yourself past what your sound mind told you was okay. Pushing you past your normal boundaries that kept you in the stagnant life you ached to be released from.

“I want you as well.”

It was as if you had opened the dam to a great reservoir, Taehyung was on you in seconds moving from around the counter to scoop you off the barstool and place you on your feet. He pushed his lips against your own, opening his mouth immediately, nothing chaste in his actions. You wrapped your hands around his neck and he cupped your ass bringing you closer to him before hoisting you up and placing you on the counter beside your glass.

His kisses did nothing to aid the strange metallic taste in your mouth, in fact, it made it stronger. Stronger in taste and stronger in the lightness that flew to your brain urging you to pull him closer, open your legs wider.

He pulled at your bottom lip with his teeth and you groaned into his mouth as his hands found purchase in the buttons of your blouse and began to hurriedly undo them. His fingers were deft and within a few short minutes you sat before him with only your bra above your pants and he pulled back to look at you.

“Is this what you want, y/n?” He asked, his lips swollen from kissing, his hair tousled in candlelight. “Are you sure you want to continue this journey?”

You weren’t sure what journey he was referring to but if it had to do with what you hoped he was about to do to you in the bedroom, you sure as hell were ready. It was Taehyung, for the short period of time you had known him, he liked to be dramatic so you brushed off the comment.

“Oh,” you said, pulling him towards you by the cloth of his loose silk shirt and reaching up to whisper into his ear. “I’m ready.”

Taehyung growled in response and gripped your hips, pulling you to the edge of the counter so you could feel him through his loose dress pants before slowly rolling into your clothed core. He was already so hard. “Then there’s one thing you need to learn about me,” he whispered, ghosting his lips over the crest of your ear, one hand snaking up your body to palm your breast through your bra as he subtly thrusted into you. Your head tilted back, a soft groan escaping your lips. You had never felt this way with a partner before. With Taehyung all your sexual senses seemed heightened somehow. “I take what I want.”

He scooped you off the counter, careful to avoid contact with the candles, as he walked you both to the doorway on the far end of the apartment, what you had earlier assumed to be his bedroom.

It was like you were walking in a dream, somehow a thick mist had descended onto either the apartment or your mind, casting the collection of strange objects back into a heavy darkness as Taehyung carried you to the room, his lips never leaving some part of your exposed body.

His bedroom was massive. Dark velvet curtains draped the walls, candles once again covered the walls and bedside surfaces although you had no recollection of Taehyung lighting them earlier. His bed was in the center of the room, a massive dark wooden four poster with an extravagant comforter. Taehyung kicked the door shut behind you both before throwing you onto the bed. The curtains surrounding the bedroom blended into the navy walls, creating a sense of comfortable warmness that seemed to soak up what limited lighting there was in the room.

You turned your head, eager to absorb as much of the space as you could and your eyes caught the glint of a group of knives on the bedside table. Fascinated, you rolled onto your side, reaching for them. There were five in all, varying shapes and sizes but overall petite little things. One caught your eye, it was about the length of your hand and had six simple deep blue sapphires embedded in the handle. You ran your fingers over the blade gently, intrigued.

Taehyung followed your gaze as he crawled onto the bed behind you, the silk of his shirt felt cool against your skin as he spooned you from behind, nipping softly at the pulse point on your neck, clearly eager to continue what you had started in the kitchen. “I collect them,” he murmured against your skin and you struggled to push down your fascination with the blade before turning in his arms to face him.

“Of course you do,” you whispered. It seemed completely in character.

“Things like that capture my eye,” he ran a finger down your throat. “Beautiful,” his finger dipped lower to the valley between your breasts before tracing down your torso until it rested on the button of your pants “but deadly little things.” Searching your eyes for any retaliation, he paused.

When you smiled at him, a slow lazy smile that you knew would drive him crazy, he slowly untangled himself from you to work on pulling off your pants.

Released from your leg confines, Taehyung pulled his shirt off over his head, revealing a broad expanse of toned stomach before crawling back over you, dipping his head to catch your lips. You eagerly returned the kiss, wrapping your legs around his hips and he dipped his pelvis down, grinding his erection against your sensitive clit through the thin material of his pants and your panties. The wine was making your head spin, although you had only had a glass. You wanted him more with each breath. More than you had ever wanted your husband.

You groaned as he found the right amount of friction and he quickened his pace, roughly rubbing up into you with each thrust. You could feel how incredibly hard he was already and you arched up with each movement, meeting his thrusts but eager for more. Much more.

“You like that, little darling,” he whispered harshly into your ear, his voice raspy and a little out of breath. “You like that you can feel how hard and ready I am from just tasting your lips?”

You responded with your body, chasing a high that only he could give you and he began to end each thrust with a deep roll of his hips. He had to know how he was affecting you, like some \ sex starved teenager dry humping in the back of your dad’s pickup truck. You had never acted like this before, but the way he ground into your clit with each thrust heightened your arousal. You were sure by now, that you were soaking.

Entangling your fingers in his dark hair you pulled slightly as Taehyung began to plaster your neck and torso in large open mouthed kisses, murmuring dirty words and planned actions as he took in every crevice of your exposed body, a hand finding purchase in your clothed breast once again and massaging it in tempo with his thrusts. When he latched onto your pulse point with his full lips, you pulled a little too hard on his hair earning yourself a harsh bite from Taehyung.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed, breaking the embrace, shock written purely on your features as your hand flew to your neck and returned, fingers stained crimson.

You hadn’t realized you were bleeding.

“Sorry,” Taehyung murmured, pulling you back to him, his lips returning to envelop the wound, his tongue swirling around the puncture marks and your stomach rolled in pleasure forgetting the strange occurrence from moments before. What is wrong with me? “I’ll be more careful.”

Finishing his apology on your neck he leaned back, balancing himself on his elbow over you, bringing your bloodstained fingers up to his lips. His hooded eyes, dark with desire, never leaving yours as he took your fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the blood, sucking it off. Heat pooled in your core as you watched him, something incredibly carnal and erotic in his gaze, like he couldn’t wait to consume you whole. He finished with a loud pop and you felt something in you snap.

You didn’t know what came over you but before you even fully realized what you were doing you twisted in the bed, reaching for the pretty little sapphire knife on the bedside table. Grasping it by the handle you pulled it from the magnetic strip attaching it to the holder and turned back to face Taehyung. He hovered over you, watching intently as you grabbed one of his hands and slipped the blade into it. He seemed neither surprised or turned off by your actions as you brought the blade to rest against your throat, he merely raised an eyebrow like he was interested to see how far you would go.

“Why don’t you show me what you can do with these pretty little knives?” You whispered, the blade cool against your throat. “They’re on your bedside table for a reason.”

There was no point in denying it and Taehyung knew it, his gaze darkening, a sly close lipped smile making his features seem almost sinister. When he spoke, it was almost like his voice had dropped an octave, a deep rumbling that sent shivers up your spine.

“Do you trust me, y/n?”

“I wouldn’t give you the knife if I didn’t, Taehyung”

His entire demeanor shifted. He was a commanding presence before, treating you roughly but still like you might break. Holding the knife in his hand seemed to open a new layer of Taehyung that made you realize just how little you knew about him. He twisted the blade in his hand, dragging the tip along your jawline.

“Then why don’t you remove that pretty little bra of yours, darling?” He demanded, his voice low and menacing. “Before I cut it off.” You were ashamed at how turned on it made you as you arched your back up and maneuvered your hands behind you to unclasp the back. Once you had slipped the straps off your shoulder, Taehyung took control clearly impatient with how slowly you were moving to tease him. He grabbed the bra, flicking it off the bed in a period of seconds before leaning down to kiss each of your breasts, paying special attention to each nipple, knife momentarily forgotten.

Your back arched into the mattress but the kiss of the knife against your throat stopped you from moving more. Taehyung stopped his work on your breasts and peered up at you from under long bangs.

“Did I tell you you could move?” He dragged the knife’s tip down the column of your throat, slowly making his way between your breasts and stopping by your naval. “Don’t forget who’s in control here, darling. God forbid,” he circled the knife around your belly button before sitting back on your thighs looking down at you and bringing the knife to his ring finger. “You cut yourself.” He sliced the tip of his finger, not deep, but enough to draw blood.

You let out a small gasp and he smiled lowering himself back down to you, bringing the knife back up your torso, between your breasts, before lifting the bottom of your chin with it, his face inches from yours.

“Suck,” he commanded, holding out his cut finger. You were eager to oblige, bringing his finger past your lips, the wine once again making you bold. Bold enough that you didn’t process that the metallic taste was the same you had encountered earlier that evening. You sucked his finger like your life depending on it, swirling your tongue around the wound, watching his expression take on one of pure euphoria. He was losing control and so were you, but your descent into madness had begun hours ago.

He tossed the knife onto the bedside table, not caring where it landed and roughly pulled his hand out of your mouth. His actions were frantic now and he used the bleeding hand to hold your torso down as his other made quick work of your panties. Gone was the calm and collected Taehyung who had you completely under his control mere minutes ago. Here was the Taehyung acting only on impulsive desires. Your body reveled in this realization.

Before you could process it, his mouth found purchase on your clit and you couldn’t stop the breathy exclamation of his name as the hand on your torso moved to grasp a breast. He was still bleeding, albeit slowly, and you could see the trails of smeared blood drying on your skin wherever he touched you, marking you as his.

You were lost in the moment, his tongue circling and flicking your clit with the occasional suck of his lips. His other hand was parting your folds as he slowly slid one, then two fingers inside you.

“God, you’re soaked,” his voice throaty. “All for me, I get you first.”

You were too caught up in your own pleasure to correct him. You weren’t a virgin, this wasn’t your first time. Although this was the first time anyone had made you feel like this.

You looked down at him, you could feel his teeth scrape your clit lightly and you nearly screamed. “Taehyung, I need you inside me right now.”

You weren’t going to last much longer, and he knew it. He continued his onslaught, moving his fingers in and out of you in an increasingly rapid pace, his teeth scraping against your clit, harsher than before but you weren’t complaining. When you twisted in his grasp he let out a low growl that you felt vibrate along your inner thigh and you screamed out his name as you came.

Taehyung worked you through your climax, placing gentle kisses on your mound as he watched you become a soaking wet mess for him. When you were finished you looked down the length of your body at him, amazed that he made you feel like that with literally just his mouth and fingers.

He pulled his face back to look at yours, his face messy, his hair tousled but his fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you slowly as you came down from any remainder of his high. His appearance seemed different than before but you couldn’t quite place it. Wait- his-

You lurched back in surprise, breaking contact with Taehyung, who watched you with dark eyes. His teeth! Taehyung smiled a slow, boxy grin and you focused on his canines. Once average, the incisors had elongated, into twin fangs. Sensing your unease he released you, his mouth quickly closing. He cocked his head at you, an inhuman action.

“What’s wrong?”

“Y-your teeth,” you blurted, sitting up and reaching out to cup his face so he couldn’t turn away. “They looked like. . . . “ You pulled him closer, ignoring his surprised look as you used a finger to lift his upper lip. No fangs. You dropped your hand.

“I think you’ve had too much wine,” he chuckled leaning forward to capture your lips with his own.

Am I losing my mind?

Taehyung’s hands found the buttons of his slacks and he pushed them down, kicking them off and over the edge of his bed. You were momentarily surprised that his pants were the last layer between you and the thing you wanted most but your lust filled mind figured that Taehyung was always hot and ready for the next time he would get something to fuck.

And right now, that very thing was you.

His cock wasn’t obscenely large but it did have a healthy curve to it as it flopped up to hit his stomach. You were practically drooling from where you lay on the bed, eager to get along with the process. Taehyung grinned down at you, taking himself in one hand and pumping slowly.

“Are you ready, little darling?” He murmured, his voice hoarse. “Are you going to let me fuck that tight, little cunt of yours?”

You nodded, eagerly, and he sat back on his ankles so that he was kneeling in front of you. “Then come here and sit on master’s cock, alright?”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

You got up and maneuvered yourself so that you were hovering over his hard cock. Taking it in one hand below you, you ran your fingers over the velvety surface, gently bending the tip and watching as his face contorted in pleasure and he took his bottom lip between his teeth to stifle a groan.

“Stop teasing or I’m taking over,” he threatened but it was empty. With one hand wrapped around his cock, you knew he wasn’t the one in control here. Gripping him at his base, you slowly lowered yourself onto him, head lolling back as you felt him fill you, inch by glorious inch. You took your time, making every minute count as he stretched you to the brim. When you bottomed out you both just sat there for a moment, satisfied with the feeling you gave one another.

“God dammit,” Taehyung whispered, encircling you in his arms so that you were flush against his chest. “You’re even better than I ever could have possibly imagined.”

He slowly began to roll his hips up into you and you lifted yourself off him in a steady rhythm until you had both established a rapid pace. He was breathing heavy into your ear as he picked up speed, letting out a series of earthy grunts as he fucked up into you, slamming into you with reckless abandon.

You could feel that he was still holding back and you balanced your hands on his chest as you rolled into tempo with him. From this position you were slightly above him and you met his eyes as he looked up at you from beneath dark bangs, his pupils nearly completely dilated and his beautiful lips parted, panting with exertion.

You could die happy right now, filled to the brim with this exquisite man.

When you began to slow down, grinding your hips into his with each thrust to ensure he could strike you deeper and longer he groaned out a breathy “F-Fuuck” and moved his hands down to grip you by the hips.

Before you could react he shoved you back onto the bed, never pulling out, and began to slam into you, scooting you further up the bed with each thrust until your head connected with the pillows at the headboard.

“Heaven-” he grunted, enunciating the word with a harsh thrust and you wrapped your legs around his hips, bracing your arms behind you to keep your head from slamming into the mahogany headboard.

“Be-” He thrusted again, his eyes piercing down at you, his face flushed with exertion.

“Damned! You have no idea how amazing you feel.”

You tried to raise your hips to meet him but his pace was too brutal. Fucking Taehyung was unlike any other sex you had had before. He was insatiable. The feeling of his cock buried deep inside your pussy drove you to pleasures you hadn’t known existed. The tiny sounds he made as he thrusted into you drew responses from you as your back arched up into him.

You could feel him everywhere. Again, maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the desire you had forced down deep inside you for years. But with Taehyung you weren’t just chasing sexual release, although that was part of it. You were chasing a release from a life you had grown to hate. You were giving into your feelings and what you wanted and it felt so damn good.

Taehyung lowered himself closer to you, wrapping his arms up around your back to find purchase in your hair and he tugged a little bit as if he was trying to find a solid grip while he slammed his cock into your pussy sloppily. His pace slowed and he began to roll his hips into you and grind down, emitting a series of low rumbles that had you preening.

Your eyes squeezed shut and you ran your nails down his back trying to find purchase. You did finally, on two feathery appendages that had sprouted from his back.You ran your fingers over what felt to be feathered muscle and Taehyung lowered his mouth to your ear. “That’s right darling, let your master fuck you.”

Wait, feathers?

You released the appendages and your eyes flew open to find Taehyung’s piercing into yours but when you tilted your head to look- nothing was there.

I really am losing it.

Taehyung didn’t seem to notice and he dipped his head down to capture your lips in large open mouthed kisses, his tongue teasing yours as he tightened his grip on his hair, his thrusts becoming sloppy.

It was like you were trying to consume one another, you couldn’t get any closer but goddammit if you weren’t going to try. Taehyung was finally losing control. You could see it in his eyes, feel it in his body as he murmured dirty things on your lips, in your ears.

He had resumed pounding into you, using your body to chase his release and you welcomed it, tightening your walls to urge him deeper, to throw him over the edge. It was working and his words turned into animalistic grunts as he slammed into you again and again.

When he finally began to sputter out of control he bottomed out once again, pushing himself as far as he could go before spilling himself into you with a loud “Fuck”. His body responded in such, continuing to gently roll into you as he came, lowering his sticky forehead to your own.

After he was finished he rolled off the top of you, slowly pulling out with a sickening pop and you felt the loss of him deep in your core. He rested his head on his hands, peering up at where you lay propped on the pillows he had fucked you into from beneath those dark eyelashes before taking a hand and gripping your chin gently to make you look at him. He lifted himself up and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, a slow smile making it’s way over his features.

“Just wait till they get a load of you, darling.”

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clownattack · 3 years

Text

Castor - character bio

I’ve been struggling with getting a bio out for Cas for waaaaay too long now, but i feel pretty ok with how it looks currently - i'm going to repost it on my art blog with some drawings of Cas and Hjalle in the future (hopefully). If you want to skip most of the nonsense and just get a feel for her personality, the section under the bio paragraphs is FULL OF POINTS.

links to drawn refs here and here

Longpost under the cut

✦ Early life in Hjalle:

Being born into the noble family Aran, Castor’s early life consisted mostly of being pampered by the attendants and strict education. Cas was a rowdy kid, and with time, lack of affection and validation from her family served to amplify the trait - she went from occasionally disobedient to full-on antagonistic towards her parents, and the nobility as a whole. She began to sneak out; spending her time outside of the Fort, spying on the guards and trying to bribe knights into taking her on as a page.

When Cas turned nine a sibling came into the picture, and she made it her duty to assure Aster’s upbringing would be better than hers. She poured everything she had into Aster, but soon developed a brash and overbearing streak, unyielding in her focus to teach the meek little sister to stand her ground. Aster became torn between Cas and the parents, who in all fairness, treated her much better than their firstborn. This would remain the case until Castor’s dragon-induced injuries.

In her late teens, Cas was seldom seen in the fort - to everyone's great relief. Her mood was always sour, she gave up on her studies and only seemed to care about Aster and joining the hunting parties. Her parents reached their limit when Castor announced she would not become one of the renowned judges of House Aran - this led to an explosive argument, which concluded with Castor storming out. For the following two years, she lived and worked with rangers tasked with protecting and providing for the town.

It was in those years that Cas acquired her battle prowess and scars, the most prominent being a gift from an especially large and angry dragon. A single swipe of its tail tore Castor’s chest and forearm open, forcing the hunting party to rush her to the fort in (what the hunters expected to be) a futile attempt to get her family to provide medical help for their dying kin. The reception was cold indeed, and if it weren’t for Aster’s hysterics and outrage over her family’s indifference, Cas would have not survived the grievous wounds. The upside to this event was a new high tale to impress people with, and strengthening the bond between two sisters. The downside - Castor was now under her parent’s thumb. They made her accept the position of inquisitor; to make up for the hassle she caused them. Taking up the mantle turned Castor’s world upside down - not only would she have to work in close proximity to her father, but her dreams of being knighted were shattered, as inquisitorial duties stand in stark opposition to virtues of knighthood. As Inquisitor she was tasked with investigating and interrogating for the court - the latter, as Aran tradition had it, was extraordinarily bloody.

✦ Vesuvia:

Almost as soon as she arrived, the city sparked something in Cas. This was unexpected to say the least; she was certain the years of gruesome work as inquisitor numbed her to simple joys of life. The sights and sounds of Vesuvia however, made her eager to explore and see how everything ticked - and the more she saw the more she wished to remain in the city. After attending the Masquerade and becoming acquainted with Asra, Cas was prepared to do anything to stay - even if it meant sucking up to the Buffoon count and begging for a job. Lucio proved to be anything but opposed - he’d heard of the “bloody good shows” (pun intended) Castor was infamous for, and was eager to take her off her parents hands. This led to working parallel to the count and his court, but also enabled Cas to dabble in magic under Asra’s tutelage.

This slight betterment of Cas’ situation would not last long however, as The Red Plague took complete hold of the city mere months after she took up her residence in Vesuvia. After perishing, and being brought back by Asra, she very slowly regains certain memories and traits - her sister, love of astronomy, sword skills. She sneaks out, snoops, and is a handful overall; but Asra is happy to see Castor’s “new” self free of bitterness and pain.

After this point, the “game events” take place. I like to imagine Castor braving an amalgam of Nadia and Portia routes, with a fistful (or multiple) of courtier drama. Castor is tasked with an investigation, slowly but surely unravelling how deep the corruption runs in Vesuvia, and how much of it can be attributed to the courtiers. The conclusion of her story focuses on first facing off against the court, then the Justice Arcana.

✦ Physical appearance

Light olive skin, she picks up a slight tan in Vesuvia.

Dark gray eyes, striking marbling on the iris.

Long girl - 176 cm tall, loves being the “tall friend” (and manhandling people close to her). Being taller than her is taken as an indirect challenge.

She has a rectangular body type, could be described as a “runner’s body”.

Prominent scarring across right forearm and torso, missing right breast.

Tastefully disheveled. Her hair has a constantly windswept quality, and the gray streaks seem to be especially unruly.

Inherited the “Aran silver” (early graying), she tries to ignore it. “The more you hide it, the more it shows”.

Secretly really bothered by the many similarities to her father. Avoids looking at herself too much, and whenever she does it feels like he’s looking back at her, judging.

Only ever smoothes herself over before important court meetings and social events. She doesn't know how makeup works, so before any party she asks Asra to sort her out. Cas looking prim is both a treat and a source of friendly jabs.

✦ Character traits

Power walking by default. This can be somewhat intimidating, and she won’t stop if someone is in her way - just put them to the side and continue.

Puts up a really convincing pretence of formality and refinement.

In actuality she finds this facade tiresome, and just wants to talk fast about battle/hunting feats or astronomy. Maybe show off her pyromancy.

Loves socializing, it recharges her batteries.

Dilligent worker.

Tends to overwork herself and neglect her relationships.

Often scatter minded and wanting to do too many things at one time.

Doesn’t appreciate people instigating physical contact or getting up in her face. She needs to prepare herself for it, or be the initiator.

Stubborn as a mule. Never knows when to stop pressing people.

Extremely callous at times.

Annoyingly overbearing

Most of this springs from a place of fear - things had a habit of getting worse whenever her family imposed decisions onto her. In her mind, if she’s the one holding the reins, everything will be better. And if something does fail - she will be the only one to blame.

Starting arguments comes much too easily to her, but she’s just as quick to introspect, and seek out the person she argued with to apologize and approach the issue in an appropriate manner.

Forgives easily

Eternally scoffing at astrology. She knows shes being bigoted, but at this point its almost like an inside joke between her and Asra. “Astrology? It's baby stuff. PSEUDOSCIENCE!” (she cries as she worries over her afternoon tarot reading and preparing pretty horoscopes for the Shop...)

A huge hypocrite at times. “Do as I say, not as I do” could easily be her motto.

Both the upright and reversed Knight of Swords card sums her character up perfectly.

✦ Occupation & Residency

Vesuvia:

Beginning of her story follows the game canon almost to a T - Cas lives with Asra in the Shop, and works there. It bores her to death, and she plays tricks on every customer just to entertain herself.

After being officially hired by Nadia as the Palace Magician, Castor moves out of the shop and purchases a modest house in Goldgrave, much below the value of what Nadia offered her, and what she could afford. It’s convenient and that’s what matters to Cas. She continues supplying the shop diligently, and takes over whenever Asra runs off.

Nadia insisted on Castor having an office in the palace. It grew on her with time, and after The Devil is dealt with it becomes her little “hub”.

Hjalle:

Cas lived with her family in the castle site until 17 years old.

After denying her parents their plans for her future as a judge, she hunkered down in a hunting lodge outside of the town, and spent almost two years living that way - she still thinks of these two years as the most joyous time in her life.

The only thing she ever used her family’s wealth for was commissioning the construction of an extravagant observatory. Reminiscent of a gothic fortress, the stark exterior is contrasted with insides filled with artwork and art-nouveau ornaments. The central chamber is a vast library with a powerful telescope in its apse - it is a sight that could take the breath of the most haughty of nobles.

There’s a tiny living space below the main chamber, furnished sparingly, but with a lovely fireplace (in Hjalle, its a necessity). It’s where Cas stays after becoming the inquisitor/whenever she visits after the in-game events.

✦ Trivia

Cas is 23 years old when she first arrives to Vesuvia - 28 at the time of The Devil’s downfall.

She freed Merlin from a merchant’s cage in the Red Market, during one of her outings in the three year interlude after her death - Asra fumes after they find out she snuck out to the market - yet is amazed that Cas found a familiar.

Cas regained her first memories via touching objects linked to her past life - a letter from Aster, articles of clothing, a sword...

This self re-discovering takes a turn for the worse when Cas finally finds a large, ornate knife - the one she inherited after becoming inquisitor. The memories it resurfaces are a staggering blow to Castor, completely derailing the beliefs she had about her own person. She thought of herself as a paragon, and remembering the torture she inflicted upon others, the lives taken in the name of “justice” made her relapse into bitterness and disenchantment. She deals with those feelings as her investigation into the courtiers progresses.

Predominantly uses pyromancy, other types of magic are strictly used for her work at the palace, and rather sparingly.

Could be best described as a battlemage - enjoys being in melee range and assaulting her quarry with both sword and fire; the latter being used more as a way to distract or stagger the enemy than actually harm. There's no fun in just burning them up!

Doesn’t cook for herself, although she has a natural knack for it - will only cook for guests and short people.

Her dislike of Lucio clashes with gratitude for employing her when she first arrived to Vesuvia - he was the knife which cut Cas off from her parents, and it’s something she could never forget.

Demiromatic/sexual.

She was offered to be knighted by Nadia after defeating The Devil. Cas declined - It’s much more than a title to her, and accepting seemed like mockery (considering her past as inquisitor).

Short fuse, she learns to better control herself while working in the palace. But if someone really pushes her the nearby candles miiiight get a bit out of control. Or she’ll just throttle them.

Hates her full name - Castor is such a mouthful. Sounds stuck up too...

#mc cas #castor aran #apprentice castor #oc bio #longpost #im pretty sure this is just incomprehensible #also text formatting on tumblr SUCKS i never knew until now #ive beed rewriting this for SO LONG NOW and im TIRED #so ill just leave it here #and if i ever feel like i can do better #oblivion is but a click away #begone #post #i cant write so PLEASE forgive me for the sins contained in this

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cagestark · 4 years

Text

A Hole in the Head//7

Read here on AO3.

I’ve been inactive and some have been worried; everything is fine, I’m just waiting until some irl things clear up. I *am* writing though. Hope this makes up for my absence even a little bit?

About this: nff. Slut-shaming. Sub-drop. General rough and meanness lmao.

He drags Peter off of the couch, one hand wide enough to cradle the back of Peter’s head to avoid letting his skull kiss the floor. Drunk off of arousal, Peter doesn’t fight back, instead arches into the contact so that his hard cock drags along the older man’s, a low desperate sound slipping free from his throat.

“What are you doing?” Peter breathes, hopeful. Bucky settles between Peter’s thighs (and the stretch in them is absolutely delicious; it’s borderline obscene how wide they have to spread to accommodate the other man) and humps down into the warm cradle of his legs, causing fireworks to explode behind Peter’s eyes. “Not that I’m complaining—oh fuck, please don’t stop—”

“Tell me everything you know about what Tony was saying on the phone,” Bucky growls. Peter cracks his eyes open at the strange request. Above him, Bucky’s hair is a dark curtain that parts around them, blocking out the rest of the world. His face is set, jaw clenched. At his hesitation, Bucky grinds downward again and the friction has his eyes rolling. “Tell me, or I’ll stop and leave you here like this.”

“What do you mean, what—”

“Why’d Tony say those things about me?”

“Because he likes you? Jesus, I thought you were supposed to be some ultra smart assassin capable of, oh, no, no, don’t—”

Bucky has leaned up, letting one heavy arm rest flat against Peter’s chest to keep him pinned to the floor and the other resting just above his cock, palm flat against the twitching abdominal muscles. Like this, no matter how much Peter strains, his cock receives no contact. Through his teeth, the dark man says, “What do you mean he likes me? He’s Tony fucking Stark!”

“What’s that got to do with it? Please Bucky, please, it hurts!” Showing mercy, he drags his hand down from where it rests against Peter’s stomach, and when that large, warm palm cups his cock, it is almost enough to make him cum. He struggles to get his heels planted on the floor so that he can arch his hips upward. With surprising tenderness, Bucky cradles Peter’s aching balls in his hand before moving up to wrap his fingers around the clothed cock as best as he can, jerking Peter off in a slow, firm rhythm through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Oh fuck yes, thank you, sir, thank you.”

“Focus, kid, and maybe I’ll let you cum,” Bucky says coldly. “Tell me everything Tony has told you.”

“He, he thinks you’re hot,” Peter gasps, shaking, fingers scrabbling at the carpet for purchase. “He said that he re-respects you, oh god, thank you, don’t stop—”

“Then keep talking.”

“He said that you, you’re art and he admires you and you—oh fuck, please sir, squeeze me tighter, yes!—he said you make him feel safe. When he fucked me yesterday, he said he wished that you’d walk in on us, he said that he thinks about you in the next room listening in. God, please, Bucky, can I cum?”

“What are you asking me for permission for? Like you’re not just a brat who will take whatever he wants anyway.” Bucky says. His voice is cold in the best way, a juxtaposition to the endless heat he pours off, the heat he’s ignited in Peter’s belly. Planting one palm on the floor beside Peter’s head, Bucky reaches down to slide a hand beneath Peter’s ass and drag his hips up off of the floor and grind them against Bucky’s own, their cocks a delicious, explosive friction. “But you told me what I needed, so I guess you’ve earned it. Go on, then. I don’t have all day.”

Peter wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck, tangling his fingers in that dark hair and using his heels to get the leverage he needs to thrust his way off the deep end. The coil wound so tense in his lower stomach snaps, balls drawing up as he cums into his sweats, so long in coming that it hurts in the best fucking way. His body jerks, muscles tensing and untensing like he’s in the throws of a seizure. But Bucky holds on to him tight, firmly guiding his hips to drag out the orgasm until Peter feels like a cloth wrung free of water.

His head feels a little fuzzy, throat dry by the time Bucky slips his hand from beneath him. The stickiness in his sweatpants tickles a little where it drips down his legs, but he can’t find it in him to care, not when he’s on this most fragile edge between staying afloat and going under. Then, coldness—and when he opens his eyes, he sees that Bucky has withdrawn, dragged himself and his heat back to the couch and seated himself heavily on the cushions, face tilted towards the ceiling with his eyes closed.

He’s still hard. Peter is just drunk enough to pull himself up onto his knees and make his way to kneeling by Bucky’s legs. The assassin parts them easy enough, leaning his head back up to watch Peter with an empty curiosity, even when Peter opens his mouth and breathes hotly on the bulge in his tactical pants.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, low and dangerous.

“‘m gonna suck you off,” Peter says. His tongue drags a long, wet stripe from the bottom of that twitching bulge to the top. All he tastes in his mouth is the polyester-cotton blend, and he can’t wait to replace that with the taste of Bucky’s cock. A noise rumbles in the dark man’s chest, a warning, but the challenge does nothing except make Peter’s eyes go glossy where he looks up from beneath his lashes. “I don’t mind if you pretend I’m Tony.”

Bucky grabs a fistful of Peter’s hair and pulls his head back so harshly that a noise slips free of Peter’s mouth, his throat bared. Bucky pulls him, coaxing him back to the floor lest he snap his own fucking neck. One thick boot comes down flat on Peter’s chest, pressing just enough to threaten the rapid rise and fall of his breathing. Still seated on the couch, Bucky looms over him while he loosens his belt.

“You want my cum, kid?” Bucky asks through his teeth. He draws his cock free from his pants and Peter cranes his aching neck, desperate to see it. The angle is no good, only lets him see the last three inches before the sight is blocked by Bucky’s thick thigh. But what he sees makes his own spent cock jerk. Bucky is thick, flushed a pink just as dark as his lips.With a practiced, firm hand, the man begins to jerk himself off. “Beg for it.”

Beg for it? The words echo in Peter’s head, setting off alarms that he isn’t nearly far enough under to have silenced. Peter doesn’t beg. Alright, he does, but Peter is under no illusion that being submissive makes him any lesser than the people who dominate him. His submission is a gift to them, Peter Parker is a motherfucking gift, one that Bucky does not yet appreciate and has not yet earned.

“No, you coward,” Peter gasps. Both his hands wrap around Bucky’s boot, but even with all his strength, he can’t budge it.

The force behind Bucky’s boot increases. When the man leans over to place more weight on it, he looks downright unhinged, his lips pulled back to bare straight, clenched teeth. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me. You’re a pussy! Does coming up with an excuse for your depravity make you feel better later? I had to jerk the kid off, for information,” Peter mimics, throwing his voice in a mocking impersonation of Bucky himself. “I wouldn’t have let him suck me off, but he begged for my cum. You are a twisted fuck. Own it, asshole!”

For a moment, watching the way Bucky’s handsome face twists in fury, Peter thinks maybe he went too far. The boot on his chest adds pressure until his ribs creak, and he feels true fear. Ever since he was a boy, people had warned Peter that his mouth would get him into trouble someday. Maybe this is his ticket about to be called.

But instead Bucky slips down from the couch until he’s straddling Peter’s chest, pinning thin arms tightly to his sides with the larger man’s thighs, belt buckle gaping and framing his erection like the golden stage curtains at the fucking Lincoln Center. This close, Peter has to stare straight up to look at the man’s face. When his hands fall back to the buttons on his tactical pants, Peter’s eyes slip there instead.

“Fine,” Bucky mutters. He pulls out his cock, and from this angle it’s truly something spectacular: long and thick and cut with neatly trimmed pubic hair and balls that hang low and heavy. Reflexively, Peter lifts his head up off the floor to see if he can crane enough to lap at the purple, slick head, but he can’t. “That how you want to play it, kid? I’ll own it. I’ll own you, you little shit. Gonna paint that pretty fucking face.”

“Do it,” Peter groans. He struggles to breathe through the weight on his chest, heart hammering. Above him, Bucky strips his cock like it’s a weapon, stroking the length of it with an unforgiving grip while the other reaches down to cradle his own balls, palming them with uncharacteristic tenderness. It’s one of the most obscene, arousing sights Peter’s ever seen, his soft cock twitching where it rests in his own cooling cum. Bucky’s face is just as artful as his cock, head tilted in pleasure, full mouth parted to reveal his teeth clenched tightly shut, the ultimate juxtaposition of soft and bestial.

His eyes slit open while Peter stares, dark stormy-sea eyes. Peter opens his mouth wide like a target for Bucky to shoot, and the way his face twists in arousal, the cry that comes from his throat as his head falls back - there’s no way Peter could ever forget those things. When Bucky cums, it’s downright explosive, pearlescent seed raining down on Peter, striping his face and the curls of his hair and landing on his eager tongue.

A desperate sound slips from Peter’s throat as the taste bursts across his buds. It’s cum, not fine cuisine, but it’s Bucky’s. Above him, the man makes a tortured sound at the sight of Peter licking his lips. When at last Bucky has drained himself, cum trickling down his scarred knuckles, he shuffles off of where he pinned Peter to the floor.

For a long moment, both of them rest and catch their breath. Bucky is the first to move, plucking a tissue off of the end table and holding it out to Peter like a white flag, a peace offering. The expression on his face is mostly unreadable. The man who pinned him to the floor and then jerked off onto his face seems to have receded, letting a more closed off Bucky to the forefront. Peter is more than a little fucked thinking about how fond he is of both sides: the unhinged and the sane.

“Don’t get soft on me now,” says Peter, even if it’s kind of nice. The last thing he wants is Bucky feeling some twisted guilt (all that bullshit Peter said earlier about the man’s perversion was just that—bullshit. Maybe they are all perverts, but at least they’re among like kind). He ignores the tissue and reaches up to wipe three fingers through the mess on his cheeks, slipping them into his mouth to suck them clean.

“That was a mistake,” Bucky says, voice like sandpaper. “It’s never going to happen again.”

Peter gapes. “Why not?”

“Tony—”

“Were you listening to that phone call?” Peter asks. He feels liable to explode, a ball of fury (of hurt) throbbing just beneath his throat, desperate to be released. How long will Bucky continue to play these games with them? With Peter? “He’s fine with it! More than fine. He’s fucking into it!”

“Just because he might like it doesn’t mean it’s good for him,” Bucky grits out. “It’s the last thing either of you needs when you’re still getting over what happened with that cunt Beck.”

“Right,” Peter says, pushing himself up so that the assassin is no longer towering over him. Bucky has an easy four inches on him (and probably sixty pounds), but Peter has never let his small stature keep him from speaking his mind. “Because you’re obviously the authority on what we need!”

“You’re goddamn right I am!” Bucky shouts. “You think you need this? You think you need me? You need me like you need a fucking hole in the head.”

“You—aren’t—Beck!” Peter’s face burns, reddening with fury and embarrassment. How many times and in how many ways will Beck come back to haunt him? How long must he be dead before the cloud of him dissipates from above Peter’s head? “Tony hasn’t ever left me alone overnight in the five years we’ve been together. Why? I haven’t woken in the night once this week to find Tony sitting in the armchair by the bed, cleaning his gun because he can’t sleep. Why? And you heard us on the phone—Tony hasn’t bottomed in over twenty years, but he said he’d do it for you. Why? Because we trust you, fuckface!”

All at once, the fury drains out of Peter. He finds himself exhausted, eyes burning in a terrible, traitorous way. Turning away, he snatches up the tissue that Bucky had grabbed for him and begins to clean himself off, clenching his jaw so that it doesn’t tremble. His hands shake, adrenalin from the sex, the fight, hormones crashing.

Peter sits heavily on the sofa, the pile of tissues beside him. His mind begins to whir, trapped in an endless cycle. It’s his fault he and Tony are in this mess, both lusting (that’s all it is, all it can be, Peter swears) after the assassin. When he speaks, his voice is fragile and cracking, slow and slurred and not at all its typical self, but he can barely hear it, can barely feel the words as they trip from his open mouth: “I just don’t get it. You’re attracted to us. It won’t get you in trouble. Why, then? Why do you keep doing this? Is it—is it me?”

“Don’t,” Bucky says, low and threatening.

Peter doesn’t hear it, lost in the fear that creeps over his mind like fog too thick to see sense through. His words come out garbled around the knot in his throat that is strangling him. “Is it because I’m, because I make things so hard? Running from you ‘n talking back? Because I, I can be good. I swear. Just give me a chance and I can show you.”

Firm hands grab the collar of Peter’s shirt and drag him right up off the couch until his toes struggle to touch the floor, fabric ripping underneath the brutal grip. Now he’s face to face with Bucky who searches his expression with furious eyes and a downturned mouth. “What’s wrong with you?” the man asks. He shakes Peter a little. “You’re acting like—what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Peter says, answering a question Bucky never asked. His voice warbles, thick with emotion, eyes misting. “I’ve never known—”

Bucky squints, eyes raking over Peter’s face before settling on his trembling mouth. “Are you dropping?”

Oh, he thinks, teeth chattering. Yes, yes I am. One of Bucky’s wide palms comes up to cradle the back of his head and coax him to look the larger man in the eyes. They’re narrow, intense, unreadable as always. “Come on, snap out of it. Tell me what helps when you’re like this, kid,” Bucky says.

“Nothing,” Peter says with wet lashes. Because that’s how it feels when he drops this hard, like nothing will help, like nothing will ever get better.

Bucky pulls them flat together, chest to chest, tucking Peter’s head underneath his chin and wrapping his arms around Peter’s thin frame, squeezing firmly because Peter can’t stop shaking, because he’s trembling like a leaf on a tree tossed in the wind. The warmth the other man gives off is heavenly, cutting through the chill on Peter’s skin and soaking into him deep. Awkwardly, one hand begins to pat at Peter’s back.

“You’re okay,” Bucky mutters. “Just—fucking calm down. Please.”

Bucky says please like he’d usually say a threat, and it makes Peter’s heart squeeze.

He shakes his head before burying his face deeper into the man’s broad chest, inhaling while he twists his fingers around the fabric of his shirt. Bucky smells always of leather and cologne, sometimes of sweat, but even the smell of sweat isn’t unpleasant when it comes from the him. Groaning, Peter lets himself relax into the heat and the scent and the arms that feel like the only thing tethering him to this world. Half of him wishes that they’d let go, that he’d float away somewhere where he’d cease to bother and burden the ones he loves.

The ground slips out from beneath his feet as Bucky scoops him up and into his arms. Peter struggles for only a moment until Bucky’s grip tightens in a way that is both threatening and soothing. Under that grip, Peter goes lax and lets the man carry him up the stairs as if Peter were nothing more than a basket of laundry. Outside the doors, Bucky hesitates for only a moment between his own door and the door Peter shares with Tony before choosing the latter.

The sheets smell like Tony. Peter rolls upon contact with them, burying his face and inhaling. Trying to clear the fog from his head. He jerks when someone touches his shoulder, but it’s just Bucky, staring down from so high up with his typical frown and stormy eyes. The bed depresses as Bucky kneels up onto it, coaxing Peter to roll over and sit up. He feels like a child when Bucky takes his shirt off, but there’s no fight in him, not with his mind so far away and his body so weak and fragile. With uncharacteristic tenderness, Bucky uses a cloth dampened from the en suite bathroom to clean Peter’s face of any residual cum, wiping carefully at the delicate skin beneath his eyes, across the expanse of his forehead, down over the slope of his jaw. Peter lets his eyes fall shut, feeling the rasp of the cloth against his sensitive skin, the warm dampness of it.

He lowers Peter carefully back down into the den of soft sheets and blankets and pillows, and Peter stares through heavy eyes at the man’s figure—

Then he blinks, awakening. The lighting in the room has changed, the sunlight tilting to a dramatic new angle to show that time has passed, that Peter has been asleep far longer than he might have expected. His head throbs, the skin beneath his eyes tender and crusted with dried tears, but he sits up anyway and wipes the drool from his mouth.

Bucky is seated in the armchair having pulled it up close to the bedside. He’s slumped over, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his hands. At the sound of the sheets rustling, he lets his hands drop to a more neutral position while he looks up, face blank.

“Why didn’t you wake me for lunch?” Peter asks. His hands still shake, but the terrible tightness in his chest is gone. “I had a salad in the refrigerator, now I’ll bet the lettuce is all wilted. Thanks for nothing.”

“I’m sorry,” says Bucky.

For a moment, Peter thinks he’s misheard. When he asks Bucky to repeat himself, the man looks like he’d rather face torture. But still, he says it again.

“The salad isn’t a big deal,” Peter jokes weakly.

Bucky ignores the attempt at deflection.

“I’m supposed to be keeping you safe. But I just keep fucking up.” He stands up and sheds the dark henley he’d been wearing. Peter’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the man shirtless: pale skin, every muscle defined from his pecs to the abs and the lines that frame his package. Here and there are scars: brutal ones along Bucky’s shoulder that make Peter wince in sympathy; a hole of twisted scar tissue from a bullet wound long healed over. Every last detail takes Peter’s breath away. “If you want me, you can have me,” Bucky says, jaw clenched. “I’ll—take care of you.”

“What am I, a fucking houseplant? Did Tony leave you instructions to water me every other day if my soil feels dry and give me a quarter turn so I don’t bend towards the sunlight? I don’t need you to ‘take care’ of me.”

“Kid,” Bucky says, low and dangerous. “You make it real hard not to throttle you. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here. Dial down the brat.”

“I am the brat. Conversation would go a lot smoother if you’d stop being a dumbass, how’s that for a suggestion? A life hack. Yours for free, asshole. And for what it’s worth, I do want you,” Peter admits. He scoots across the bed until his back is pressed against the headboard, pulling the sheets up around himself. It feels easier, here on his turf, in this place that he and Tony have worked so hard to reclaim as safe. Easier to be honest. “Just not like this.”

Bucky scowls. His abs tense, a distracting motion. “Either you want me or you don’t.”

“You’re missing the point,” Peter snaps. “Just as much as I want you—maybe more than I want you—I want you to want me. I want to be wanted.”

“You think I jerk off on casual acquaintances?” Bucky asks. “I want you, okay! Maybe if we fuck, you’ll get this out of your system—”

“I don’t want you out of my system!”

“What do you mean? What, you want more than a fuck?”

The way he says it, like it’s the most ridiculous thing in the world that Peter could possibly want—it makes Peter feel cold all over. Suddenly, he realizes the gravity of what he is saying. He’s admitting to things he didn’t know he felt, things that he’d buried. Tony, he thinks. I need to talk to Tony. “Forget it.”

Bucky seats himself again, slouches deeply and tangles his hands in his hair to tug. Watching all the muscles in his chest and torso work makes Peter lick his lips reflexively. “Jesus Christ. I still don’t know what you fucking want from me, kid.” Then, with a vulnerability that shakes Peter to his very core: “I’m not good at this. You want me to snipe a guy from a thousand yards? I’m your guy. You want me to build a bomb with whatever you’ve got under your bathroom sink? I can do that. But this—whatever the fuck this is? I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m just going to fuck it up.”

Peter swallows heavily. A part of him wants to reach out and take Bucky’s hands from his hair, coax him to let go of a grip that must surely be painful. A bigger part of him wants to say something foul and snappy, something that will keep this argument spinning forever and forever, like tires stuck in slick mud. “I believe in equal opportunity,” he says, as gently as he can. Gentleness doesn’t come easy. “So I’d like a chance to fuck this up, too, please.”

Bucky snorts softly. “And with both of us working to fuck everything up, who the hell is going to hold this together, huh?”

And isn’t it obvious? Peter thinks.

“Tony,” he says. “Duh.”

Reaching out, Peter pats at the bedspread beside him. Bucky watches with wary eyes, like maybe Peter has slipped a whoopee cushion under the blanket, or maybe there’s a land mine that’s been left sitting since WWII buried beneath the sheets of a bed in a 2010 built mansion in New York, still active, ready to detonate as soon as he sits. But after a long moment, he pushes himself up out of the chair (which creaks with his muscled weight) and sits gingerly where Peter directed.

He looks lost. Unsure. Younger than Peter’s ever seen him.

“Tell me,” Bucky says, quiet though no less intense. They’re close enough that he doesn’t need to do more than whisper. “Tell me what you want from me. From this.”

“I want there to be something between us to fuck up,” Peter admits.

Peter takes Tony’s call out by the pool. The New York mansion sits on twelve acres of land, which gives him plenty of vantage points to watch the sun as it sets, smearing the sky with oranges and pinks. Even from this distance, he can feel the weight of Bucky’s gaze. The man is ever watchful, as if someone is going to step right out of the woods and try to drown Peter in the in-ground pool.

Tony listens quietly while Peter tells him the events of the day, only interrupting to ask a clarifying question or two. That’s the thing about Tony: he’s an amazing speaker, but God can he listen. Peter is a habitually nervous talker, always eager to fill any silence between himself and another person. It works out in Tony’s favor on nights like tonight, when all he has to do is hum thoughtfully and Peter spills his guts and more into the empty air between them.

The only thing he leaves out is the motivation for Bucky’s actions, the hard-on Peter believes he’s harboring for Tony. That he isn’t spilling yet; not until he has more solid confirmation.

“Are you angry, sir?” Peter asks. His anxious feet kick up ripples in the pool.

“No—why in the world would I be?” Tony asks. “I goaded you into propositioning Bucky, or did you forget? And I’m more than half hard after hearing about your little tête-à-tête this afternoon. I’m downloading the security camera footage from the game room as we speak, just so you know. 39% of the way there.”

Peter smiles, glad his back is to the house so Bucky can’t see. Knowing that soon Tony will be watching him driven to absolute desperation (and then he will see what he let Bucky do to him, not that Peter could have struggled free even if he’d wanted to) makes his gut clench. But as quick as it comes, his smile fades. “I knew you’d be okay with that part. But it’s not like you asked me to go and—catch feelings for him.”

Tony hums.

“I don’t want you to think that you aren’t enough for me,” Peter goes on when the silence lasts too long. “Because you are. And I don’t want you to think I’m a slut, even if I am—”

“Peter,” Tony says, voice low and infused with warning. Peter ducks his chin even three thousand miles away. He still feels the disharmonious undercurrent thrumming in his blood and chest from his earlier drop, and it makes him more pliant than usual. The last thing he wants to do is upset his lover, disobey his lover. “I’ve had it with you calling yourself that word in that tone. Do it again and for the next two weeks I’ll jerk off during my morning shower and the closest you’ll get to sex with me is overhearing any sounds I make through the bathroom door. Understood?”

“Yessir,” Peter murmurs. Despite the sharp words on the other end of the line, Peter’s feet kick happily. There has always been a part of him that believes his love of sex is a moral defect—society, past lovers, past friends teaching him so. The reassurance from Tony is like aloe to that scorched part of him. There’s nothing wrong with him. Tony says so.

“Good boy. The only feelings of yours I’m concerned with are the ones you hopefully have for me,” he says. “Do you still love me, kid? Tell me now if you want me to cut you loose, and for both our sakes, I’ll pretend that I could do it.”

“You can cut me loose, but I’ll never leave,” Peter says. “I know where I want to be, Tony. At your feet. Always.”

“I miss sucking on that silver-tongue, sweet thing.” Tony’s voice is just short of a growl, the sound of it rushing over Peter’s skin like the breeze, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He lays down, back against the tiles of the poolside, feet still in the water. Above him, the sky is just beginning to turn cobalt blue. Jupiter is bright tonight. His heart squeezes in his chest when he dares to think about how lucky he is. Tony. And now Bucky. But he doesn’t want to count his chickens before they hatch. “Come home, sir.”

“You just want to fuck,” Tony says slyly.

Smiling, Peter lets his eyes shut. “I don’t want to go to sleep without you here.”

“Are you afraid?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Tony hums.

Peter sighs. “Maybe not. But I miss you even when you’re just in the city—imagine how I feel with you on the other side of the country.”

“I left you in excellent hands. Speaking of which, I can hardly wait to see those hands on you. 92%.”

“So slow?”

“The file is huge, kid.”

“He says he wants to wait until you get back before we fuck,” Peter says, scowling to the stars.

“No wonder you want me to come home. If he can manage to teach you the value of patience, I’ll double what I’m paying him.”

“The two of you are going to kill me.” Peter weighs his next words carefully. “You know, I think Bucky has a hard-on you.”

Fabric shifts in the background. Tony’s voice is sharp when he asks: “What makes you say that?”

Sirens go off in Peter’s brain complete with flashing lights. Abort, abort. “Well who wouldn’t, sir?”

A soft, humored exhalation, and Peter relaxes.

#winterironspider #winterspider #starker #cagewrites #ahith

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waitimcomingtoo · 5 years

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hihihi i’m a new follower and i love your writing style! i have a request :) reader and peter parker are dating and she finds out that he doesn’t like tattoos but reader has always wanted a tattoo so she gets one on her thigh, outer thigh of course, and she’s a little paranoid because she doesn’t want peter to break up with her but one day he sees a little bit of it & when he sees the whole thing he thinks it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

Thanks for following 🥰 I liked writing this so I hope you liek reading it!

Ink

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: “I’m going to be honest with you.” Peter began. You hung on to his words, preparing yourself for the breakup. “Saying you were wearing a garter was more wishful thinking, because that’d be super hot. But this…” Peter brushed light fingertips over your tattoo, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “This is way hotter.”

Masterlist

Requests are CLOSED

“Bleh.” Peter shuddered as he set two coffee mugs down on the table. He had a displeased look on his usually bright eyed face.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you shook a packet of sugar. “Did you accidentally use the soy milk again?”

“No. It wasn’t that. Never making that mistake again.” Peter laughed. He leaned across the table as if he was telling you a secret. “The barista had two full sleeves of tattoos.”

“Oh.” You said with fake shock, not seeing the problem. “Wow.”

“I know.” Peter shook is head. “I’m pretty sure he had them on his neck too.”

“Oh dear.” You chuckled. “Anything but his neck.”

“Alright.” Peter smiled as he stirred his coffee. “I know when I’m being teased.”

“I just didn’t know you had a problem with tattoos.” You took a sip of yours and wiggled your eyebrows.

“I just don’t understand the point.” Peter shrugged and lazily played with your fingers. “I mean, it hurts, it’s expensive, and people usually end up regretting them anyway. Plus, they sag.”

“Oh god.” You fake gasped. “Not sag!”

“I’m sorry, what’s your opinion on tattoos?” Peter asked sarcastically. “Pray tell, I’m dying to know.”

“Oh, you know.” You shrugged and stirred more sugar into your coffee. “I dig em.” You said nonchalantly.

“You dig them?” Peters draw dropped like he didn’t believe you.

“Yeah, I dig them.” You playfully challenged, meeting his eyes. He looked genuinely surprised.

“I love you, and so I respect your opinion, but why?” Peter asked, his mind seemingly blown. He had no idea of his girlfriends favorable opinion on something he felt such disdain for.

“Maybe because they rock.” You laughed. “They’re works of art that you can put on your actual body. How cool is that?” You gushed. “It’s liking carrying around the Mona Lisa in your pocket.”

“I doubt the Mona Lisa would fit in your pocket.” Peter sipped his drink with a smile. “Perhaps a nice tote bag.”

“You’re funny.” You said sarcastically. Peter pretended to brush hair over his shoulder in flattery. “And I’m being serious. I think tattoos are wicked.”

“What about that kid at school with asthma with the tattoo that said “it ain’t easy being wheezy?” Is that tattoo wicked?” Peter teased.

“Yes.” You stated. “Because it meant something to him. That’s why tattoos are so cool. You could get your favorite song lyric from when you were a teen, or a quote from the book that always makes you cry. Or, you could get something completely idiotic that you sober up and regret in the morning.” You shrugged as Peter listened carefully, trying to see things from your point of view. “The possibilities are endless. And that makes them wicked.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way.” Peter remarked. “Would you ever get one?”

“Would my darling boyfriends upset if I did?” You asked, bringing the flirty conversation back to serious. Your body was your body, but you loved Peter. You respected and valued his opinion more than anyone else’s, but his thoughts on tattoos came as a surprise to you. You’d always loved tattoos and had been saving up to get one for two years already. You never wanted to upset Peter, but you also didn’t want his disapproval to keep you from something you’d always wanted to do.

“Your darling boyfriend wouldn’t love it.” Peter said honestly, which you appreciated. “But your darling boyfriend knows he has no say in what you do with your body.”

“And that,” you held up your mug and clinked it with Peters, “is why I love my darling boyfriend.”

The topic didn’t come up again after that day. You and Peter had agreed to disagree. But three years later, you found yourself outside a tattoo parlor with a broken down car in the pouring rain. You tried to called a mechanic, but your phone decided that was the perfect time to die. You let out and angry breath and went inside the nearest building, which happened to be Kings and Queens Ink.

“Hi.” You said to the tattooed lady behind the front desk. “Could I please use your phone? My car broke down.”

“Sure thing, gorgeous.” The lady smirked. She had a pin-up look to her. Her cherry red hair was buzzed on one side, revealing an orchestra of studded piercings. If you were braver, you’d look just like her. You didn’t just love tattoos, you loved the whole New York biker style. You lived your dream every now and then in a leather jacket or some studded boots, but you usually kept your inner badassery on the inside, for Peters sake. He liked soft girls. Sure, he loved you no matter what you wore, but he had a special place in his heart for pink skirts and fuzzy sweaters.

The lady handed you a telephone and the number of a mechanic. You shot her a grateful smile and dialed the number.

“Three hours?” You whined into the phone. “Why would it take that long?”

“Listen lady, you’re not the only one with a broken down car in Queens today. Plus, it’s raining cats and dogs outside. Three hours. Final offer.” The mechanic grumbled.

“Alright.” You sighed. “I’ll see you in three hours.”

You hung up the phone and rubbed your temples. The girl at the desk was drumming her fingers on her desk.

“Looks like you’ll be here a while. We might as well get to know each other.” She said. “I’m Monica.”

“Y/n.” You told her. “Do you have anything I can do for the next three hours?” You laughed in annoyance. Monica shrugged.

“You ever wanted to get a tattoo?” She joked.

“Yes, actually.” You said surprised, as if she’d read your mind. “I’ve always wanted to get one.”

“What’s stopping you?” Monica leaned her head on her hands.

“It always seemed like it was just a dream of mine. Not meant to come true.” You told her. “Plus, my boyfriend doesn’t like them.”

“Don’t you listen to Alicia Keys? This is New York, baby. Where dreams are made of. I say, get that tattoo. It’s only permanent.” Monica quipped.

“I don’t know.” You shook your head. It was a big decision to make on an impulse.

“Do you have one in mind?” Monica pressed.

“Yeah.” You told her.

“Do you have the money?” She went on.

“Yeah.” You smiled, seeing where she was going with this.

“Then get your sexy ass in the chair.” She huffed.

And so, you got your sexy ass in the chair.

Three hours later, you stood in front of the full length mirror, admiring your new tattoo.

“Do you like it?” Monica asked you hopefully.

“Like it?” You asked incredulously. “Monica, I could kiss you right now.”

Monica laughed as you continued to gawk at your own body art.

“I’m serious. It’s exactly what I wanted.” You gushed. You turned to Monica with a glowing smile. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Anytime, doll face.” Monica said, pleased with her own work.

Once your car was fixed and you paid for your tattoo, you made your way back to your apartment. Your tattoo was wrapped snugly in cellophane. It stung slightly, but your adrenaline and excitement kept you from feeling the extent of the pain. Your excitement faded when an incoming call from Peter came in. You were suddenly reminded of his disdain for the permanent body art and feared for his reaction. On an impulse, you declined his call. He didn’t have to know just yet. Yes, it was your body, and Peter respected that. But you had to respect him too. And Peter hated tattoos.

You knew that.

You knew that and you got one anyway.

You felt guilt forming in a brick in your tummy. You felt like you betrayed your boyfriend. You turned into your apartment complex with a worried frown.

You spent the next two weeks avoiding telling Peter about your tattoo. You only wore pants around him, since the tattoo was on your outer thigh. You were careful not to let him touch your leg, in case he accidentally brushed it and caused you to wince, revealing your secret. As the weeks went on, you grew more and more paranoid. You felt yourself growing more guilty with each passing day. You became full blown terrified that Peter would break up with you on sight if he found out. When he wasn’t around, you flaunted it around with pride. But on days you spent together, you covered it like your life depended on it. You loved your tattoo. It was everything you’d ever dreamed of. But you loved Peter more. And you weren’t ready to tell him just yet.

A month later, your tattoo became old news. You’d almost completely forgotten about it one morning as you got ready for a date with Peter. You threw on his favorite pink skirt with a fuzzy white sweater. Peter came by shortly with your favorite candy and some popcorn.

“You ready to watch Only You?” Peter asked as he kissed you hello.

“It’s only my favorite movie.” You smiled.

“You just like it because you think the main actor is cute.” Peter rolled his pretty eyes, always the jealous type.

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved your hand dismissively and pulled Peter into your apartment by his shirt collar.

An hour into the movie, you cuddle into Peters side and swung your leg over his.

“What’s that?” Peter tilted his head to the side, catching sight of something black on your outer thigh. Your eyes widened when you caught a glimpse of your tattoo peaking out from under your skirt. You took your leg off of Peters in a panic.

“What’s what?” You asked innocently. You scrambled to pull your skirt over your tattoo.

“That.” Peter pointed to your thigh, with a curious smile on his face. “On your leg.” He used his pinky to lift your skirt a little, catching another glimpse of black lines of your leg. “It’s something black.”

“Oh.” You said, dumbfounded. You’d been caught. You couldn’t play dumb anymore. “That’s my…garter.” You lied.

“You’re wearing a garter?” Peter asked, a pleased grin decorating his face.

“Yes.” You were committed to the lie now.

“Just the one?” Peter asked, blushing faintly. “Only one leg gets a party hat?”

“That leg was cold.” You continued.

“Like a bride?” Peter giggled as he tried to sneak a peak. You swatted his hand away, which made him come back with a vengeance.

“They’re highly fashionable.” You informed him, keeping a tight grip on your skirt.

“Y/n.” He whined. He picked up your hand and kissed your knuckles. “Come on pretty girl, let me see.”

“No.” You said shyly, moving his hand once more. You were fully sweating at this point, your secret being moments away from being revealed.

“As much as I wished it were true, I have a feeling you’re not wearing a garter.” Peter paused the movie and gave you his full attention. “Come on, baby. Tell me what’s up?”

“I have to tell you something.” You sighed. You took your bottom lip in between your teeth and chewed on it.

“You can tell me anything.” Peter said softly. “You know that.”

You looked at Peter and sighed. You didn’t know how to say it, so you didn’t use words at all. You lifted your skirt above your thigh, revealing your tattoo to Peter. It was fully healed now. The jet black ink stood out on your smooth skin. Peters eyes widened in surprise at the sizable tattoo. He wondered how he’d gone so long without seeing it. Right there on your outer thigh was a delicate, black spider hanging from a web. You’d had the image in your mind long before you met Peter, but finding out he was Spider-Man only made you want it more. You watched his face closely for a reaction. You searched for signs of disappointment or disgust, but there were none. Peter looked at your tattoo with an awestruck expression. His brown eyes were wide with delight, reminding you of a child.

“I’m going to be honest with you.” Peter began. You hung on to his words, preparing yourself for the breakup. “Saying you were wearing a garter was more wishful thinking, because that’d be super hot. But this…” Peter brushed light fingertips over your tattoo, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “This is way hotter.”

“What?” You asked, thoroughly shocked by his reaction. “Really? You think so.”

“Yes.” Peter laughed breathlessly. “That is the sexiest thing I ever laid eyes on.”

“For real?” You sat up in shock. “You like it?”

“I love it.” Peter traced the tattoo with his nails, trying to remember every detail of his girlfriends body. “I seriously love it.”

“Oh, thank God.” You let out a breath of relief. “I thought you were going to break up with me.”

“As if.” Peter laughed. “Are you gonna get more?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged, smiling happily at his unexpected reaction. “I’d like too.”

“Could I come with you when you get the next one?” Peter asked excitedly, getting ahead of himself. “I could hold your hand if it hurts. Did this one hurt? I bet it did. God, you’re so cool.” Peter gushed over his badass girlfriend.

“I would love that.” You told him honestly, squeezing his hand in a appreciative manner.

“Me too.” Peter intertwined his fingers with yours. “I can’t wait. I’m gonna hold your hand so good.”

“I thought you hated tattoos.” You wondered with a content smile.

“That was before you had one.” Peter said simply. “And I can’t hate anything about my darling girlfriend.”

“And that”, you pressed a gentle kiss to Peters lips, “is why your darling girlfriend loves you.”

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#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spider man: homecoming #spiderman x reader #peter parker x tattooed!reader #spiderman x tattooed!reader #spiderman: far from home #spiderman x you #spiderman x y/n #spiderman #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader

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