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song-witch · 1 year

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Chin Up, Buttercup

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,084

Warnings: Fluff! Southern Mommy Wanda. More fluff.

Summary: It's your big break, but the one person you want to support you isn't there when you need her.

A/N: I wrote this in like 24 hours, but yolo.

Part Two Part Three

“I’m so proud of you, darlin’.” The woman’s voice filled the calmness surrounding the two of you with a certain… delicacy that could only be made by her. It had a certain drawl to it, words weighed down by the sticky sweetness of the southern accent that clung thickly to her honey filled words. Everything about the moment was soft, something Wanda gave you endlessly, especially after the hours upon hours you had spent on your work.

It had taken you years to get to this point. To be able to finally put it up on display for the rest of the world, except for one. Wanda. You hadn’t stopped talking about it for weeks. Had it marked on every calendar the two of you shared, and even then some more.

And yet, she had missed it. Had gotten scheduled on some bullshit meeting that could get her fired from the company. You had told her multiple times that you could support the two of you, that your book would break record sales and neither of you would ever have to work again. Of course, that was wishful thinking, but it’s what had gotten you this far, isn’t it?

Wanda had left early that morning, earlier than normal, with a kiss to your head, a silent promise that she’d be home that night. It felt like a silent apology that she couldn’t make it to your first booktalk.

It was okay, though. You were a big girl who didn’t need Wanda at your side for everything you did. You tried to tell yourself that for the rest of the day, that you could do it all by yourself, even if it pulled heavily at your heart.

You did your best to pull through your day. You ate breakfast alone, debating on tearing the sticky note Wanda had left you a message on like other days she didn’t have time to eat with you before. It felt far too literal, though. Like that post it note was your heart and every little tear made it hurt even more. You settled for crumpling it up, tossing it across the empty dining table, a hard reminder of how utterly lonely you truly were.

You sat alone when you were getting your makeup done, your outfit picked out. You would blame the tears in your eyes on your makeup. Wanda was the one who dolled you up. But she had work. For hours you told yourself you could do it. You could stand up in front of a crowd and talk about the book you had spent all of your adult and most of your teen years writing, pouring every ounce of love, hatred and everything in between in it. It didn’t feel real, though.

Since you had met her, you had envisioned her next to you at this moment. Instead, you stood by yourself with a podium in front of you, the small beaded friendship bracelet twisted between your fingers. Wanda had randomly bought the kit for you one day and you had insisted she make one with you. They were matching, the only difference being your names on the piece of string.

“Thank you all again for coming.” Despite your earlier feelings of loneliness, you smiled brightly into the microphone, more than aware of the amount of photographers and press there.

Gingerly closing the book, you stepped away from the podium, scooping the item into your arms. Agatha pulled you towards a secluded corner, your team surrounding you. Right next to Wanda, she had been your number one supporter since you brought the rough draft to her. She signed you within a few hours, taking on the role as your editor and publicist like it was nothing.

“Good job out there, toots.” The brunette clapped your back, a toothy smile brightening her features. You smiled up at her, hardly able to hear her over the roar of your own heart beating along with the crowd of people ready to have their books signed by you. “Say, you keep wooing crowds like that and you’re gonna sell out in no time, kid.”

“Really?” The hope in your voice brought forth a new youthfulness to you, like you were a kid again. In a way, you were. You had wanted this since you had started writing, and here you were, your first book published and with a second well on its way.

“With that cute tush of yours? Everyone will be wanting more, sweets.” Agatha threw an over exaggerated wink at you as she laughed, using the hand that hadn’t left your shoulder as a support of sorts. Your smile faltered just slightly, a blush coloring your cheeks. It was something Wanda liked to tease you about, how easily it was to get you riled up. You would deny it forever, even though you knew she was right. “Speaking of everyone, where’s that ragamuffin of yours?”

The smile on your face almost immediately sank. You had been so busy the entire day that you hadn't had time to think about Wanda, let alone the fact that she wasn’t there. Agatha hardly noticed your change in demeanor, too focused on the buzz around you. “She… she had work.”

“Oh, that’s too bad, toots. I’m always here if you need a plus one.” Rather than comforting you, the woman shimmied beside you, yet another wink thrown your way. You had learned that she was like that sometimes. Way too much to handle. So you smiled and nodded, trying not to let the thought that your girlfriend wouldn’t be there to support you.

“Only kidding! Well, unless you two say otherwise. You know where to call me!” Agatha stepped away from her, her hand finally pulling away from your shoulder. It was the first time you felt like you could actually breathe during the entire interaction. You loved the woman, truly, but she could be a lot. “Go enjoy your party, hot stuff, you deserve it!”

And with that, the woman left, presumably to find the bar, leaving you to be pushed around by the rest of your team. You knew enough about the events of the day that you’d be signing books for the next hour, if not longer. You were grateful for all the time Wanda had spent practicing your signature, a nice, loopy design that made you feel proud of yourself. It was all you could think about as you were swept over to the long table full of your book, pushed down into the singular chair at the table, a line that was longer than it should be waiting for your signature.

᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

By the hour and a half mark, your hand was cramping, not used to writing with a sharpie for this long. The line felt like it had barely shrunken, still too long to see the end of. It was thrilling and disheartening at the same time; the faster you could sign all of these books and do whatever you were told, the faster you could get home to see Wanda. That had it’s own anxieties attached to it, but whether she could be here or not wouldn’t change how excited you were to see her. Sure, it sucked that she couldn’t be here. Really sucked, but you would be able to see her in a few hours and tell her all about your day. It would have to suffice.

Another hour passed before you could see the last ten or so people, the feeling of relief strong. You had been at it for over two hours now and, while you were beyond flattered and amazed to have this many people read your book, you were exhausted to say the least.

You wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in your lovers arms, but you knew it would be at least a few more hours before that was even plausible. Faces began to meld together as the line continued to shorten, each person looking a little more like the next. As the last person approached, you breathed a sigh of relief, not even looking up as a book was slid between your hands.

“Thank you for coming.” You gave the person, a woman based on the high rise jeans and blouse they were wearing from where your eyes didn’t travel up their body, a tired smile just barely tugging at your lips.

“What? No sugar for me, sweetheart?” The words themselves made you feel gross, though the voice was recognizable. Something about the soft timber of it was reminiscent, like a fond memory you couldn’t let go of.

You were sure your confusion was evident all over your face, what with the way your eyebrows pulled together and your hand stopped moving, though you couldn’t care less if the signature was ruined or not. Your eyes traveled up the, yes, woman’s body, a familiar map of beauty stood in front of you.

“Wanda?” Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of her.

She had really gone all out, dressed as nice as possible for your big event. She wore high waisted black dress pants, paired with a deep purple blouse with even darker flowers printed across it. She was wearing your favorite wedges of hers. Her dark, faded out roots were pulled up in a half up, half down style, the long locks flowing down her back. It took everything in you to not let the tears that had filled your eyes to spill, pushing the book and marker away from you as you used the table to stand.

“Hi, pumpkin.” Wanda’s southern accent was the best thing you had heard all day, instantly warming you like nothing else had.

You all but flung yourself into her arms, uncaring of how hard you had hit the table with your thigh. Wanda would tell you to be more careful about it later, would kiss it better, you knew. You didn’t care about anything other than being in her arms, though.

“Wanda.” You all but whimpered into her neck where you had almost immediately pushed your face. She smelled the same as always, an earthy undertone that paved way to the light lavender you knew was her favorite perfume, even though she hardly used it. It fully encapsulated you, making the tears in your eyes burn even more as her arms wrapped around you.

“It’s good to see you too, sweetheart.” Wanda laughed heartily, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. Her hands ran up and down your back, a gentle strength to them that had you wanting more, to be held even closer. The hand holding your bracelet, her right hand, settled at your waist, while the other settled at the base of your head, softly carding through her hair.

She had held you like this far too many times to count, but you still melted in her hold, your breath hitching. The woman held you against her as you continued to fight off tears, taking in the sweet scent that enveloped you, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Time was non-existent to you once again as she stood holding you, humming softly. The only thing that you knew was that it was nowhere near enough time when she pulled back, holding you at an arm’s length with a beaming smile. She traced her left hand up to your face, cupping your cheek as she searched your eyes. You couldn’t help but smile back, biting your lip as it continued to tremble. Wanda shook her head, tsking under breath as she dropped her hand down to grasp your chin, tugging your lip out from between your teeth.

“You did so good up there, sugar.” Wanda pressed a kiss against your cheek, easily turning your head with the finger on your chin to press another to your opposite cheek. The nudish brown pigment of her lipstick just barely transferred onto your skin, something the woman would take a wet thumb to in mere moments. She kissed your lips chastely before doing so, giving you barely enough time to process what was happening before she was licking her thumb and rubbing at the lip marks.

“B-but… you…” You did your best to protest, shaking your head from side to side as you tried to escape her grasp. None of it made sense. She would’ve just gotten off of work maybe half an hour ago and would’ve had to book it through heavy rush hour traffic to get to your talk. There’s no way she could’ve seen you on the podium, let alone giving your speech.

“I what, hun? Use your big girl words now.” The brunette fixed you with a stern look as she stopped scrubbing at your cheek, tipping your head up. You couldn’t help but stare at her. The nude lip she had brought out the green in her eyes, the bright sun shining through the open windows forming something akin to a halo around her. She was gorgeous. Something straight out of one of your stories. It helped that the main character’s love interest had more than a few things in common with the woman.

“You… you were at work.” Your head cocked to the side just slightly, something you had definitely picked up from the woman, eyebrows furrowing. You pulled at your bracelet, the elastic snapping at your skin with a nice popping noise as the beads rattled. Wanda tsked, shaking her head as she grabbed your left wrist, pity written all over her face.

“Oh my, precious. I wasn’t actually at work. I was tryin’ to surprise you.” Her lips turned downwards, bringing your wrist up to her mouth with a kiss. It was obvious she wasn’t pitying you because you had snapped yourself with your bracelet, but rather because she knew how worried you must’ve been all day. The bracelet issue just happened to be a part of it.

“And what did I tell you would happen if you kept snappin’ that bracelet?” Her tone was anything but mean, if not more questioning than condescending.

The words had you easily blushing, tilting your head down as if to hide it. “That I wouldn’t get it back until you say so.” Your right hand hung loose at your side, left still grasped by the woman. You knew her eyes would be full of sorrow if you looked up, instead keeping your eyes down as you scuffed the ball of your foot against the tile. “‘M sorry.”

“Then why do you keep doin’ it, love bug? It hurts mommy when your hurt yourself.” Wanda’s voice was as sorrowful as you knew her eyes were, a tone of hurt overflowing her words.

You couldn’t help but look up anyways, your breath hitching at the sight of glossy eyes and a frown. It wasn’t often that she got upset with you in public, yet something about the silly bracelet you wore every day had made her tear up. The sight made tears come to your own eyes, your frown mimicking hers.

“I’m sorry, I’m trying!” You pleaded softly, watching as she snaked her finger up your wrist, easily interlacing your fingers. It was hard resisting the urge to kiss her, rocking back and forth just slightly on the balls of your feet. You hadn’t meant to upset her, hadn't even realized you were fiddling with the elastic until she had said something about it.

“It’s okay, pumpkin. I know you’re tryin’ and I am so, so proud of you.” Wanda’s free hand came up to hold your cheek, smiling softly at you as her eyes roamed your body, finally taking you all in. She hadn’t seen you since the night before, unless the way you slept curled up against her this morning counted, and had been dying to see you for hours, but had held off in hopes of surprising you.

“My baby girl.” Despite the fact that you had both been moments away from crying, a fresh shade of red covered your face, a heat protruding off of your cheeks as the woman pinched it with one hand.

“Wanda.” You groaned, suddenly aware of the fact that you were very much still in public. Your body twisted with you as you glanced around the room, thankful to see that no one was paying you any attention. Which was funny, seeing as how it was your booktalk.

That being said, you could feel a pair of eyes on you that certainly weren’t Wanda’s, spinning in the woman’s arms once again until you saw your editor. She was looking at the two of you with something you couldn’t detect. Jealousy? Disdain? Whatever it was, Agatha sent you a smirk and a wink as soon as you made eye contact before turning away from you.

You turned back to Wanda, slotting yourself under her chin once more. “When can we go home?” You asked in a small voice, uncaring if she could hear you or not. Of course she could though, her lips smacking quietly together.

“Whenever you want, buttercup.” Wanda could tell something was wrong, the way her arms wrapped around you even tighter than before was enough for you to know. You took a deep breath, frantically running your hands through her long hair. It was curled, tighter than usual, but not terrible. You felt weird all of a sudden, like your editor hated you and the entire room was shrinking.

“Can… Is now okay?” You asked a little louder. Wanda nodded, only pulling away enough to lift your chin up enough to meet her eyes.

“O-okay, sweet pea. We can leave right now, that’s what you want?” The woman phrased it like a question, her voice soft if not a little confused. You had been so happy to see her just moments ago, but now wanted to go home. Sure, she knew you weren’t the biggest fan of crowds, she herself wasn’t either, but she thought you would’ve wanted to at least enjoy the party before you left.

Whatever it was, though, she was more than willing to take you home, leaving you with a kiss to let your team know you were leaving before leading you out to her car, buckling you in before taking her spot in the drivers side. She took your hand in hers, the letters of your names on your bracelets rubbing against each other as she drove off.

#jane's fics #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff imagine #mommy wanda maximoff #southern mommy wanda maximoff #potentialy jealous agatha #part one

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kana-daydreams · 3 months

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𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 || 𝐙𝐨𝐫𝐨(𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐀)

summary: Zoro surprises you with a compliment and you express your appreciation with a surprise of your own—by unintentionally stealing his first kiss. genre: fluff cw: added just a li'l bit of spice wc: 3.3k kana's notes: This was originally suppose to be a drabble, but ig I couldn't help myself😓. Anyways hope you enjoy my fellow Zoro lovers :D

“Told you it was a waste of time.” Nami drawls as she continues to peruse through racks of clothes searching for an outfit to wear for tonight’s dinner while you sit, sulking in a corner next to a discarded heap.

“You don’t have to rub it in y’know.” You lift your head from off your knees to peer up at your friend with a pout. “I’m already regretting all my past decisions.” You say, feeling heat bloom at your cheeks as you recall the couple of model worthy poses (well at least you think they were) you’d mustered up the courage to perform in front of a certain green-haired individual as you tried on multiple styles of clothes ranging from cute to elegant along with a few that showed off some skin— none seeming to had piqued the swordsman’s interest. Not even shamelessly batting your lashes had been enough to earn an ounce of a reaction from him except for his concern that something might have gotten stuck in your eye.

You release a stifled cry at the embarrassing memory, plopping your head back down onto your knees.

“Why did I have to fall for someone incapable of giving a girl a decent compliment?” You say, your words muffled by the fabric of the outfit you’re wearing.

Fishing for compliments wasn’t a habit of yours and seeking validation for your appearance, especially from a guy, definitely wasn’t either. You knew you were a hottie— by your standards anyways. It’s just that you really had somewhat of a thing for Zoro who you’d known for some time now, and hearing him compliment you for just once in your life, no matter how small it was—even if it was only a single word—would be more than enough to send you, having lived a fulfilling life, right to heaven’s pearly white gates.

“C’mon, it’s not the end of the world.” Nami crouches down at your level, giving you a tender pat on the head and you peek an eye open at her to notice that she’s changed into a beautiful and traditional chinese dress; its red colour complementing her ginger-orange hair.

“I’ve already told you, you look great. Sexy and cute— a deadly combination.” She gives you a wink and you giggle lightly at the action.

“Thanks, Nami.” You smile.

“No problem.” She lightly pinches your cheeks before standing to her full height. “Now let's finish getting ready, shall we?” She extends a hand down at you. “I have a bet to win.”

You playfully roll your eyes, remembering her bet with Luffy before taking her hand, the two of you making your way out the grandeur of the closet.

Later at night, under the dazzling lights of a grand chandelier, you and the rest of your newly formed crew along with Usopp—a boy you and the others recently befriended—stand scattered about the spacious foyer of Miss Kaya’s home, awaiting the birthday girl’s presence as you mingle and indulge your taste buds with lavish delicacies being served around on silver platters.

While you and the crew wine and dine, Zoro stands amongst his own company near the staircase, nursing in his hands, his fourth glass of cocktail—deep brown eyes pinned on your form standing beside Luffy and Usopp.

He watches as you converse with them and as you chow down on platter after platter of food like it’s the last meal of your life alongside Luffy, his gaze drinking in your every smile, your every laugh and the adorable expressions you make as you stuff your cheeks full with every bit of food that comes your way. It makes him wonder if you and Luffy are having a full on eating competition at the rate the two of you are going.

He only takes his gaze off you when he realises his glass is empty after he goes to chug some of the liquid down, discarding it onto a nearby end table laden with a few more empty glasses alike.

His eyes then search across the room for the server, wanting to satiate his taste for more alcohol, flitting over in your direction when he hears the sound of your voice calling his name.

“Zoro, you’ve gotta try these!”

Zoro watches as you approach him with animated steps and glances down at the tray you carry in your hands to see chocolate, pink and milk-white covered squares.”

“Is that cho—”

“Yes! And it’s really good!” You bounce on the balls of your feet, the action making Zoro suspect that you’d had way too much chocolate than your sweet tooth could handle.

“Here, you should try this one.”

“Chocolate isn’t really my th—” Zoro cuts himself short when he sees one of your hands pick up a chocolate-coated square, offering it to him.

He looks down at the piece of chocolate pinched lightly between your fingers, then back up at your face beaming with a wide smile and then around the room at everyone occupied either in conversation or eating, before returning to settle his gaze back onto you.

He heaves a sigh. “Does it have alcohol?”

“I don’t think so, but I can go ask if there's any wi—”

“No, it’s fine.”

Zoro stops you before you can leave, and you watch as he leans forward a bit, shuts his eyes and slightly parts his lips, his actions causing your head to tilt slightly in confusion.

Your questioning look, however, doesn’t last long, slowly fading away and morphing into one of surprise when your brain registers the purpose of his actions.

You almost heave a cough, feeling heat creep up your neck; burning at your cheeks while your hand remains extended with the chocolate held between your fingers as you continue to stand there, unmoving, simply staring up at him— up at a sight you never quite expected to see or would ever see.

When Zoro doesn’t feel any sign of sugary sweet pressing against his lips, he peeks an eye open to see you staring at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape.

“What are you waiting for?”

“N-Nothing!” Your voice immediately squeaks out.

Zoro only lets out a hum at your response before once again closing his eyes, waiting for you to feed him the chocolate square.

You swallow hard. And your heart rate picks up as you inch the chocolate closer to his mouth, its beat increasing more so when the tips of your fingers brush against his soft lips.

When Zoro feels a sweet warmth mixed with a hint of salt melting against his tongue, he doesn’t have much of a reaction and simply opens his eyes to look down at you.

“I-It’s good? Isn’t it?”

Zoro nods. “Yeah.”

Silence.

“Okay, well, um..I’m gonna go,” you say with a nervous chuckle, pointing a thumb behind you. “Gonna see what else they uh, gotta eat.” You slowly start to reverse your steps, bumping into the server behind you as you do, almost knocking her over along with the full platter of food in her hands.

You profusely apologise to the woman who sends you a disapproving glare before continuing with robot-like movement back in the direction you came, unable to see the hint of red that colours the tips of Zoro’s ears and also the way his gaze lingers on your retreating figure, all the while he stands there regretting that he still couldn’t find the courage nor the right words to tell you how beautiful you were in the outfit you’d chosen to wear tonight, and how cute, pretty—and sexy you looked in the many more he had watched you try on.

When Kaya’s birthday dinner unfortunately comes to an early close due to her outbreak of rattling coughs, she’s kind enough to allow you along with your friends to stay the night unlike her overprotective butler who wasn’t keen on extending your stay, especially after Luffy and his big rubber mouth revealed that you were pirates.

However, instead of lying, snuggled under the thick, warm blankets of a queen size bed, you traverse through a dim-lit hallway in search of the kitchen to help yourself to a midnight snack.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have given up on looking for Luffy.” You murmur to yourself as you continue to amble along the empty halls with no sense of direction as to where you were going, involuntarily releasing a gasp when your body suddenly collides into another, one more firmer than your own, just as you round a nearby corner.

You look up at the figure that slightly towers over your form, a much less startled expression on their face.

“Z-Zoro?!” You breathe a sigh of relief at the swordsman’s presence. “Thank the heavens you're not that scary butler. What are you doing here?” Your eyes dart down to the three swords attached to his right hip.

“I’m looking for a drink.” Zoro watches as you place a hand across your chest, attempting to calm yourself down from the jumpscare he’d unintentionally given you. “What about you?”

“Food hunt.” You look back up at him with a small smile.

“...Right.”

There’s a lull in the conversation as you notice Zoro’s gaze fall behind you and on instinct, you turn around to see where his eyes follow.

“Where’s Luffy?”

The swordsman expected that if you were here; Luffy was here, as the two of you seemed to be joined at the hip everywhere you went, especially when food was involved.

You turn your gaze back to him. “Back in his room, I guess.” You say, your hand no longer attached to your chest trying to calm your racing heart. “I did plan on inviting him, but I don’t know where his room is.”

Something that wasn’t your fault since you were the first to be assigned a room and didn’t get to see where the others’ rooms were.

“So…” you drawl and Zoro glances down at you to see your lips curve into a mischievous smirk. .

“Since Luffy isn’t here...” you continue. “Wanna be my partner in crime instead? You know, help me scour the kitchen for some gold?” You suggest, with a slight wiggle of your eyebrows.

Your words seem to pique the swordsman’s interest as similar to you, a smirk pulls at his lips and he makes a gesture with his head for you to lead the way and you do, him falling in step beside you.

Apparently, you taking the lead was not the best idea when it came to navigating through a house designed like a maze—a fact you should have known with hindsight—as you and Zoro still continue to roam around the mansion like headless chickens for what seems like about an hour.

“Why is this place so huge?!” You groan and release somewhat of a frustrated cry, already feeling the urge to quit your endeavour of a kitchen raid. Though, you do not act on the tempting idea since you have no clue of the direction you and Zoro came from—the soft grumbles of your stomach doing little to curb your frustration.

Zoro, as he walks beside you, remains silent at your mini-breakdown, his head craning in your direction when he hears you speak again.

“By the way,” You start. “How was the party?” You ask, trying—key word, trying— to keep your mind from being occupied by the thought of food and mostly because you couldn’t let the opportunity of your alone time with Zoro slip past you.

“The alcohol was good.”

You wait to hear if he will add more, but he doesn’t, not surprised that his reply ends rather abruptly.

“Yeah, it was.” You agree.

Zoro arches an inquisitive brow. “You drink?”

“Not exactly. But the mocktails were great and so was the food.” You smile and so does Zoro, one so faint that your eyes fail to catch it, when he recalls the happy expression on your face as you devoured any and everything that passed your way; continuing to listen at the soft and vibrant melody of your voice that fills his ears.

“...and what I loved most of all were the desserts, especially those choco..lates.” Your voice suddenly falls when the memory of you feeding Zoro pops into mind, together with how soft his lips felt when your fingers brushed against them.

“Something wrong?”

You glance to your right to see that Zoro is looking at you with a concerned expression, your face warming from his attention.

“Ah, N-No. Nothing’s wrong.” You reassure him with a small smile. “Just got sidetracked, that’s all.” You go silent shortly after your response when your eyes make the mistake of flickering down to his lips and quickly turn your attention away from him, dropping your gaze to the ground.

Zoro doesn’t know what causes your sudden silence which prolongs as you both continue down the hall, but he does know that he misses the sound of your voice which leads to him racking his brain for a topic that might be interesting enough to get you to speak again, blurting out the first thing that comes to mind.

“That outfit you wore tonight—It was nice.”

The words you think you hear Zoro say makes you slow to a stop.

When Zoro notices you’re no longer walking beside him, he turns to see your shock-filled features, immediately feeling himself go pale, and starts to regret the words that just spilled from his mouth—words he’d held back from telling you at Kaya's birthday dinner the entire time his eyes were glued on to you.

“W-What did you say?” You recover just enough to ask.

Zoro, who stands no more than a few feet away from you, looks back at you and ponders if he should just play it off due to your reaction, but tells himself that doing so would be a cowardly move—and he was not a coward.

He directs his head to the side to keep his face that flushes a light shade of red away from your view. “The outfit you wore at dinner. It looked really nice on you.” He says again, his voice seeming to struggle to get the words out.

You feel heat rush to your skin.

So you did hear him right the first time.

You replay Zoro's words in your head before nervously raising your gaze to look at him. “So, um…” You fidget a bit where you stand. “You think I looked pretty?”

Zoro visibly flinches at your question, still very much avoiding any eye contact.

“Yeah.” He manages an answer after what seems like a couple of seconds. “You always look pretty.”

At his response, a full and goofy smile blossoms on your lips. Then, without thinking—so overcome with joy at Zoro’s one in a lifetime compliment of you that it pushes most of your nervousness aside— your footsteps start moving closer towards his direction, and you tip-toe, just a little to reach his height, aiming at showing your appreciation for his words by gifting him with a kiss on his cheek.

However the supple softness that your lips meet when you kiss Zoro is not the softness of his cheek, but that of his lips instead when he suddenly turns his head in your direction.

Both Zoro’s dark eyes and yours widen at the realisation and you stumble back, away from him, watching as he touches a finger to his lips.

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that!” Your face steams as you attempt to explain yourself for the accidental kiss. “I-I was just trying to give you a kiss on the cheek—not on your l-lips.”

Dread fills you when you realise that Zoro doesn’t have much of a reaction towards your words and all sorts of thoughts race through your mind at what he might be thinking about the indecent act.

Though all your worries subside when Zoro eventually decides to speak.

“Can…we do that again?”

Your eyes become saucers at his request. “W-what?”

“I..I want you to kiss me again.”

You almost choke.

Never in this lifetime or any lifetime would you think the stoic swordsman would utter such a request—one that you will be more than happy to fulfil, despite your buckling knees.

“A-Are you sure?”

In a few steps, Zoro closes the distance between you both; a gasp leaving your lips when you feel his strong arms snake around your waist pulling you into his larger frame.

“Yes, I'm sure.”

Your heart races as he silently stares down at you, noticing his gaze flicker down to your lips, then slowly back up to meet your eyes.

Heat creeps up your neck at the action, settling on your face and increases ever so slightly at the feeling of the heat that radiates off of Zoro's skin through his clothes from his body being flush against your own.

"You don't want to?" Zoro asks when he notices your somewhat hesitant expression. "It's fine if—"

"No. I do, I do." You rush out, reassuring him that the feeling is mutual. "It's just..." You hesitate. "I've never kissed someone. Well except for you—just now." You smile sheepishly. "I...I might be bad."

Zoro's gaze softens at your words. "Same goes for me."

You feel your heart swell and warmth rise to your cheeks. "That..I was your first?"

Zoro answers you with a single nod, the blush deepening on his face.

You let the revelation sink in: You were Zoro's first kiss.

A reality you can't help but take a moment of silence to relish in as you remain caged between Zoro's arms and the comforting warmth of his body, a warm smile subconsciously gracing your face.

"Can you close your eyes?" your voice comes out barely above a whisper when you're finished relishing in the moment.

Zoro's face wrinkles in confusion. "Why?"

"Because I want to kiss you. "Your voice quavers a bit as you speak. "Won't it be weird if we do it with our eyes open? Though if that's your thing—"

"No. I'll close 'em." Zoro says as his eyes immediately flutter close. And with his eyelids pressed shut, you can't help but stare back at him, admiring every inch of his handsome face and the deep blush that paints its tan skin.

Gingerly, one of your hands reaches up to caress one side of his face as you lean in, swallowing lightly when your lips near his, but pause just before they could meet. "You're really sure about this, right?" You can't help but ask the question again just for good measure.

Zoro shudders a little from the soft touch of your hand against his cheek, and also when he feels the warmness of your breath brush against his lips a few inches away from your own.

He doesn't answer your question immediately and it makes your heart sink that he might be having second thoughts until you feel his lips press tenderly against yours in a feather-light kiss.

The sudden action renders your body somewhat into a state of surprised stillness. But only for a beat, before your eyes flutter close, hands circling Zoro's neck as you lean into the kiss that starts off slow with you both savouring the taste of each other; before it escalates into one more confident, filled with longing and passion.

And the next day after you and Zoro shared a heated kiss at midnight in the dim lights of a lone hallway—forced to pull away, when Luffy unexpectedly popped out from nowhere— you both sneak a quick kiss at the shipyard, where eyes cannot lurk, before joining the rest of the crew who’d acquired a new member to its team, aboard its first ship—The Going Merry.

reblogs appreciated🥰

#𓇻 kana's op ddrms #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #zoro x f!reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro fluff #op fluff #canonverse

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phantovia · 3 months

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💌 from : the opera epiclese.

synopsis. a taste of defeat, with her people only staring at her through eyes of pity instead of the awe she was accustomed to — humiliation was the first, guilt the last. how she wished her heart would repair itself, craving a sense of belonging that she no longer had. oh how the maiden couldn’t see, how your eyes twinkled with devotion.

to: @rainswept @ryuryuryuyurboat @boykissr @meidnightrain ( taglist ↲ click link to sign up! )

𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬

─── wc. 1.2k cw. contains spoilers from fontaine’s archon quests, angsty, furina’s in denial ( reader is in love w her fr!! ) + reader is big gift giver & she secretly adores it <3

pity, a gaze so humiliating and humbling from the people who once saw her as an archon, as a god who could save them from destruction. her heterochromatic eyes watched on as a river was about to swallow her people whole. what could she have done? sing and dance the waves away? pray to someone with more competence to save them?

oh how her heart broke, only the feeling of being hopeless could hurt this much. their screams haunted her in her dreams, struck her brain, and clouded her soul — it felt like a storm, one that was never-ending. their pleading for their lord and savior, for her grace to come down from the heavens and reveal her true strength that never existed. walls built on falsities, she sat on her throne and wailed. may the hydro archon be punished for her sins, and may furina be punished for her ignorance.

the people no longer looked to her for assistance, and all she could do was mope as she hesitated to put her utensil of macaroni in her mouth. often, she’d see people stand in front of her home — finding her utterly miserable. their gazes of disappointment and resentment caused her hands to tremble, but why couldn’t she tear her gaze from the one thing that felt like a stab to the chest?

she saw how their lips moved, words of mockery and malice tainted the oxygen she breathed — a bite of her bottom lip and her woes only increased in number.

what was she good for? if not to stand on the stage and twirl — to sway and to let a soothing melody escape her lips? what could she have done differently? she often pondered this question, yet came up empty-handed as the thoughts became self-deprecating and confused.

your gaze was different from the rest, there wasn’t an ounce of shame. even as you eyed her new living space, your expression only contained lingering jitters. was that fontinalia mousse in your hands?

a knock on her door, and she contemplated whether to open it. uncertainty had led to the worst-case scenarios, hesitance in her very steps of the staircase as her hand twisted the doorknob.

“yes?” she hates how small she sounded, noticing your hands grasped the plate of the well-known delicacy tighter.

crystalline coloration would not be ashamed if compared to the light scattering off the rippling waves. its featherweight elegance is like that of falling petals, its airy texture like a snowflake melting in your throat. her breath hitched as you extended the plate to her, eyes focused on how careful you were with the porcelain plate.

“this is for you, lady— i mean.. miss furina,” you spoke in a softer tone than hers, unwavering even in a situation that would deem you a suck-up. even with the people behind you letting out giggles and bad-mouthing you for presenting a gift to the woman who, in their eyes, deserves not even an ounce of kindness for her sins — your gaze was solely on her face.

she felt horrible. unwilling to put you in a position that could tarnish a reputation, whether it be one that hadn’t even started or not. she had to end the interaction and hope you had some excuse as to why you appeared to be getting chummy with her of all people.

it appeared that the kindness of your heart was too grand, as even after that short interaction — you visited her during the holidays with baskets of gifts. the people of fontaine loved to gossip, and your current relationship with the former hydro archon was making waves, the bad kind. how her heart trembled from the praise you’d give her, her eyes stinging with every gift you presented to her — and your eyes were full of admiration that she was unable to fathom. “thank you for this, again. but..”

it was valentine’s day, being the person that you are — you presented her with heart-shaped chocolates and a bouquet of rainbow roses, wearing a shy smile on your face. it felt as if she was still on a stage, praised for all her performances that attracted the attention of all — her ever-growing status as an actress caused an abundance of bouquets to appear at her feet, letters expressing her talent, look on with reverence that turned into amusement.

the people often wondered why she hadn’t left, her purpose to them was unknown — neuvillette had “taken her place”. she was no longer needed, for she was merely a liar, a deceiver, a traitor. those who didn’t buy the tale of the hydro archon saw you as a blubbering fool, someone who has no self-respect. how did your heart yearn for her, even as her mental wellness depleted for centuries — a drowning heart crying for help, to be kept safe and to be protected? was she pleading so obvious? her heart skipped several beats at every visit, was it truly hope for your interactions with her to conclude?

“but, why is it that you continue to appear at my doorstep with these lavish gifts..?”

“why? is a reason really necessary?”

“i just can’t fathom why you’d do this for me of all people.”

a love in denial, for the fall from grace, has created doubt in the people — doubt in herself. a feeling of being unwanted, unneeded pierces her brain, makes her heartache, as her eyes fill with what she hadn’t let fall in so long, a built-in river of despair, her tears are like diamonds. rare, in the sense that they remain hidden from the world’s view.

she felt so warm in your gaze, unlike the burning heat from the spotlight that craved for her to showcase a bundle of misfortune and misery buried under luxury and fame, you felt safe.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m no longer the hydro archon — i.. i can’t do anything for you. i’m sorry if that’s the reason you continue to do this, but i no longer wish to give you false hope.”

confusion filled your expression before your lips twitched into a familiar smile. she was hesitating, about to close the door on you while holding back tears. she was ashamed, so very ashamed that she let this go on for so long. your company was the only thing she desired, but surely you wanted what she never had in her possession.

how she’d spill apologies for being so pathetic and unable to give you what you desired, despite your many gifts and treasures — small trinkets that you claimed reminded you of her. twin-colored hairpins alike her heterochromatic eyes, and silken clothing that embodied her elegance, as you say. the possibilities for a newly wrapped gift were endless, all bounded by what? desire for something in return?

“i don’t need you to do anything other than give me a chance.”

her eyes widened at the suddenness of your words, you only stood there — silently hoping she wouldn’t shut the door on your aching heart. her hold on the doorknob loosened until the crack in her voice became evidence that you had left her in disbelief. did her ears deceive her? why did her ears burn at the mere mention of giving you a chance, how could she dwell in such notions when she was nothing but a prevaricator?

“..what?”

“the only thing i need you to do is to give me an opportunity to love you.”

#astronetwrk #furina x reader #furina x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin x you

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seikkoi · 4 months

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ꜱᴜɢᴀʀ | dom!tony stark x sugarbaby!reader ( ᴄʀɪᴍᴇ!ᴀᴜ )

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ [1, 2] | ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

There was nothing that could keep Tony from having exactly what he wanted—and he deserved a little sweetness in his life. All he had to do was keep from ruining you in the process.

content/warnings: 18+ minors do not interact. non-canon, non-superhero au, sub/dom undertones, slight emotional/verbal manipulation, obsessive + possessive behavior, age gap (reader described as mid-twenties, t.s as mid-forties), mildly dubious consensual situations, explicit mentions of alcohol and drug use, generally not for the light of heart, rough sexual content, reader described as petite word count: 12k a/n: new year, new format. sorry for the delay! wrestled w this for a bit.

You believed him, obviously.

You drank in every malefic word. It’s only the easiest thing in the world to do. Any voice that suggests your wanton attachment was becoming self-destructive died without a fight. You tell yourself that’s impossible–that you couldn’t see your life without him anymore because it was obviously better with him.

Sure, maybe you had some suspicions about his work, and maybe he could be a tad austere demanding, but that was child’s play compared to anything in the past.

You let your body curl beside his, savoring every ounce of his cologne in the air. It’s unfamiliar, feeling his bare skin against yours, but you’re thankful for it. The sandman visits quickly this time, sending you sleep as a calloused hand strokes your cheek.

There’s a beautiful sight awaiting Tony when he wakes the next morning–you, all tangled in silk sheets, warm arms wrapped tight around his midriff.

Almost every hour it feels like he finds a new beauty in you, another reason you’ll stay on his mind every moment of the day. This time, he’s noticing how breath-taking you look asleep, peaceful and holding him like you’re scared he’ll disappear.

Your form is casked in a shy early morning light as he trails his fingers across exposed skin gently, watching the slow rise and fall of your breathing. Tony would pay just about anything for you to see what he saw (which was absolute, unwavering perfection, in case you were still unsure).

Eventually, the sun rises high enough to illuminate the faint, pale marks on your hip–and only part of him wishes he showed more restraint.

No matter how much he wanted to take things slow with you, bring you in little by little, he needed your trust–your loyalty–so much more. He’d never cared much for delicacy when it came to love or attraction, especially not after Pepper. After all the bullshit with her, he wanted every living thing to feel the same desolate anger that fused in his bones. Scorched earth seemed too gentle of a policy.

It’s easy to say the end of their relationship came the second he found out, that all his feelings faded into nothingness and no further harm was done. It’s easy to pretend like he’s always been this way–this sharp-edged, arrogant man who commands loyalty and respect. It’s infinitely more difficult to acknowledge that his love for Pepper went away more like a kidney stone than a dying light.

That hot-headed arrogance, the one that soared at your proclivity for mistrust, or hints of leaving, that had been around for ages. The arrogance and fear of losing what he valued most burrowed together, growing slowly over the years into an obsessive need for control. It had laid dormant, waiting for that strawberry blonde catalyst.

The faint patches on your skin gave him a sense of satisfaction–you were his, and he tried to know that that would never change now. He realizes all his calculated moves probably weren’t needed, that he could’ve been more of himself with you sooner. Tony’s anger let him run clean over any worries that you’d leave at the first signs of his true colors. He really wanted to be the kind of man that was all sugar and no spice, but someone ruined that for you a long time ago.

Certainly, it at least wasn’t what you needed. Tony knew what you didn’t, that you could have any man you wanted. You could have chosen some run-of-the-mill, 9-to-5 guy. One who buys you flowers once a month while you live your own boring life with a dead end job, but you chose him for a reason.

You didn’t need coddling, just a bit of control–direction. All the worry he had about the ink in his life staining you could go away. Sleeping beside him, you looked just as pure and innocent as ever, dreaming peacefully. Hiding his life from you is exactly what led to last night’s events anyway. He made a mental declaration to be less conservative with himself, to give you exactly what you claimed to want (him–entirely and unconditionally).

He feels bad for past-him, who had to wait all those months to hear you cry out his name, to feel how easily your body submitted to him. Truthfully, you weren’t resisting him enough to justify the tight hold he kept, but every movement of your body needed to be his doing.

Maybe he should have just ripped off the bandaid sooner. You didn’t need things as fickle as slowness and patience, you needed to know where you belong–right here beside him, blissful and wearing the marks of his obsession.

Every fiber in his being hated doing it, but Tony pulls out of your sleepened embrace. The sudden loss of your warmth is almost physically painful, but he manages to rise from the bed. Your face scrunches slightly, sheets dragging to accommodate your shifting frame.

He contemplates waking you, if anything just to make sure your thoughts aren’t still set on leaving him. Tony’s not a betting man, but he takes the look on your face after coming to his room as a positive sign. Besides, he doesn't like the idea of waking you this early when you need rest more than anything.

There’s money waiting to be made, but he won’t deprive himself of this phenomenal view to do it. A rosewood table identical to the one in your room is moved closer to the bedside, right where he can keep you in his line of sight.

That’s exactly where you find him when you wake, hours later–already dressed in a black polo and dark pants, peering over his laptop. It’s a heavy knock on the door that stirs you, causing Tony to swear when he sees your eyes open.

The papers scattered about the table are shoved into a folder as he checks his watch and swears again. You’re almost too groggy to process voices at the door, turning just in time to see a wooden box transferred into Tony’s hands before the door shuts as quickly as it opened.

An apology is already spewing when he turns to you.

“You’re fine, it’s fine,” you waved your hand, starting to sit up.

You swing your legs over the edge, yawning and trying to think the last bit of sleep away. You might’ve forgotten about last night for a tiny longer had you stayed down. You feel the tenderness of your body before seeing it. Tony notices the subtle twitch of your brow, waiting for your reaction to worsen as he tucks the box into a leather duffel on the floor.

“We should leave in a few hours.”

There’s a flatness in his tone that pulls a puzzled look from you. He puts more papers away, now not even sparing a glance your way. It’s not out of contempt, just the last remnants of fear about you leaving. He had nothing but confidence when you were asleep–obviously feeling safe and enamored enough to lie beside him.

Now though, Tony’s forced to think ahead in time, trying to plan responses to questions and arguments you haven’t even made.

Maybe all Pepper did was make him insecure. (He’d never admit such a thing, though)

“What was that about?” you asked gently, even though you were genuinely trying not to wonder.

“Just work.” He strides back around the bed, planting a kiss to your forehead.

You manage not to pry, or give much of a reaction at all, simply smiling and still trying to stretch the weariness from your body. Your quiet demeanor comes from your own internal battle about his mood, nothing more. Tony though, for all his talents, sadly isn’t a mind reader. What he is however, is sure it’s his own fault.

Tony lets out a huff when he remembers he decided to be less withholding. You’re confused until the wooden box is brought back out. The bed makes a depressing noise under Tony’s weight as he sits across from you.

He can’t stand the apprehensive look in your eye, and figures there’s no time like the present.

“You wanna ask what’s in the box, don’t you, doll?” He says smugly, tapping the container against your knee lightly.

Trick questions aren’t really his style, but you don’t think there’s a right answer.

Tony’s expectations seemed to grow more complex the longer you were with him, and right now, you’re not certain what’s expected of you. The last ten hours in your mind was a feature film, full of depressing internal monologue about how little you really knew about him.

You know you should trust Tony’s words over the whispers of others, but they’re hard to separate when both sources are drenched in ambiguity.

“Look, I,” he pauses to sigh heavily, looking away from you for a moment. “I was completely open with Pepper–full transparency, no secrets, the whole nine yards.”

Vulnerability in any form was without a doubt his least favorite thing, especially with this. It almost petrifies him that you’ll see him differently. Mostly because he doesn’t know what he’d do if you really did leave. Somewhere, swimming in back of his brain is the idea that you’ll pull the same stunt she did. That train of thought always leads him down dark roads he’d prefer to ignore.

“I guess I was a little too open because I woke up one day and suddenly everything’s gone to shit.”

Tony’s phone rings, and for the first time ever, you see it declined without a second glance

“I cannot have that happen with you. You can ask me anything, if you can promise me you won’t leave if you don’t like the answer. If you can’t do that, you should go.” he ends coldly, and it sends a shiver through your frame.

You wouldn’t–whether he told you the truth or not. So, naturally, you nod in agreement.

A visible wave of relief rushes through him with a sigh.

“Okay, go ahead, shoot.”

What Tony’s expecting is questions about his work, about Pepper, maybe about Steve. The preparation for those questions is immaculate, answer trees with presumed added points of inquiry. Instead, you ask something he feels moronic for not planning for sooner.

“What are we doing here? With us? And don’t say it’s up to me.” You don’t ask how you normally do, with a hint of snide or taste of anger. It just comes like a whisper.

Stark sucks at very, very few things, but this is certainly one of them. Words never seem to do him justice. How he feels, what he wants to say, and what he ends up saying, never quite align. Hence why he much prefers action to rhetoric (hence why last night didn’t end in the screaming matches you might be used to from others).

Tragically for Tony, you’ve got that damned candied look on your face again that he absolutely cannot stand disappointing, even if you don’t know it.

Still, he takes a beat too long to formulate a response, so you continue.

“I mean, what are you telling all these other people who think you’re still married?”

“I don’t owe anyone an explanation about my life, doll.” he says a touch too sternly, without meaning to.

He continues before your face can turn too sour, placing an apologetic hand atop yours and sighing.

“Truthfully? No one asks, it's–I think everyone’s able to put two and two together with Pepper gone. If they did, I’d say you were my girlfriend, maybe partner. But honestly, that feels a little inaccurate.”

“Inaccurate how?” you ask tentatively, hoping it wasn’t somehow less than that.

“Underwhelming.” Tony smiles and laughs a bit, making your face warm.

“Promise me that you won’t change your mind about me.” he continues exasperatedly, half joking.

For once, you can read the emotions on his face clearly–it’s obviously not a world of fun for him to say any of this, and you know it’s the closest you’re getting to an apology (and a direct answer).

“I won’t, I promise.”

You don’t fully comprehend the metaphorical contract you’ve just signed, more permanent than any marriage certificate in his eyes.

For your sake, Tony hopes you aren’t the type to break promises.

It’s early in the day once you return to New York, and while you managed to stay awake on the flight, your eyelids shut the moment Tony closes the car door.

You realize you must have nodded off when you open your eyes to the familiar cluttered horizon. As the buildings come into sharper focus, you also realize that the car is completely stationary right outside your apartment.

You shift in the leather seat, turning to see Tony tapping at his phone screen. A wide grin spreads as he catches your eye.

“How long have we been here?” you yawn.

“About an hour.” Tony mutters absently, brow furrowed at whatever his phone displayed.

“You could’ve woke me, you know.” You felt a teeny bit guilty for keeping him when he definitely had better things to do. You shake the soreness from your body, slipping your shoes back on your feet and gathering the items you had spread throughout the car.

“You looked tired,” he says dismissively, pocketing his phone and turning the car back on. “and I don’t mind.”

The apology you want to give is interrupted with the painful reminder that you still have a shift at the bar tonight. Tony watches the realization wash over you, laughing as you dramatically groan and toss your head back.

“What’s the matter?”

“Wish I could go back in time and tell Alicia hell no on closing tonight–”

“Uh-uh, nope, you’re not allowed to complain.” he interjects, shaking his head comically.

“Why not?” you laugh hesitantly, already guessing what the answer would be.

“Honey, it’s almost physically painful watching you waste your time there knowing I can take care of everything for you.”

Was this the first time Tony indirectly suggested you quit working? Not in the slightest. Lately, a week could hardly pass without even a small mention. In theory, it sounded lovely to you ( as someone who never planned on staying a bartender this long but had no other goals to stand on). Reality bore different fruit that told you independence was probably better.

So, as you’ve done before, that’s exactly what you tell him. You liked making your own money. It causes the billionaire to chuckle as if you’ve told the funniest story ever, making you feel like a paranoid freak.

“No one said anything about taking away your independence.” he chuckles, turning the key. “If making cocktails makes you happy, go for it, but I would at least make sure it’s a nicer location–with bottles worth drinking.”

“I don’t recall you having any issue drinking all those cheap cocktails.”

“I’d drink anything if you were the one serving them.”

You have to try hard not to swoon at his words, watching him leave the car and pop the trunk before you can say anything else. You follow before long, standing to the side as he moves your bags from the car to the sidewalk.

“It’s just hard–what I want to do isn’t really a money maker. People don’t get into art for the paycheck.”

He laughs again, and you’re starting to find it very infectious.

“Maybe I’ll single-handedly revive the field of patronage. Pay you to build whatever kind of gallery you want, if you let me keep a few.”

With a wink, the bags are carried by Tony to the front door, where he gives you a long, slow kiss that leaves your head spinning. Something leaves his lips about taking you to breakfast in a few days, but you’re too charmed to hear it.

All in all, you do end up working a lot less. Mostly because you don’t need to. Over the next month or two, Tony manages to persuade you to get what he wants. Okay, so it was less persuasion and more necessity.

Two weeks after your trip, your roommate gets a job offer out-of-state and moves out faster than you can make up the difference in tips. Originally, you weren’t going to mention it in the slightest. Plan A was to beg your landlord for more time, and plan B was to write a bad check and hope you had enough by the time he tried to cash it.

For weeks straight you worked non-stop doubles to try and close the gap. You were making progress, but steadily wearing yourself down to a dull nub. By the end of it, you were beyond burnt out and completely forgot that Tony knew nothing about it. You fucked up by inviting him over one night, not realizing that the sudden absence of half of everything inside would tip him off (that and the deep bags under your eyes).

Immediately, he asked how on earth you were still paying rent this month, and absolutely despised your answer. Tony had never been shy in telling you how wasted your talents were, and this night was no exception. Especially considering you hadn’t still made enough and planned on working another double tomorrow.

You had little energy or reason to argue with him about it.

Now, you assumed it was a one time thing, just to help you get re-stabilized, maybe find another roommate. Neither really panned out. Every hit on Craigslist gave serial murderer vibes, and tips were starting to trickle as summer ended. The following month, you walked down to the leasing office, last month’s check in hand, only to be told it was taken care of.

Do you think the bitchy lady at the front desk answered you when you asked how that was possible, or do you think she ignored you and called out next in line?

It’s the latter, leaving you forced to call Tony and find out from him. You wouldn’t let yourself trust him, so it’s only right he does it for you. Tony always gets what he wants one way or another after all, causing the same story to be told next month, and the following, and every month after for the foreseeable.

You can’t say he isn’t right, though. Less shifts just means more free time to do all the things you’ve put off for the last five years. And so, your life changes once more. All the paintings, books, and movies that sat abandoned finally get some well-deserved attention. You fall into a mellow routine: spending your mornings ahead of a new blank canvas and afternoons buried inside forgotten novels.

An odd shift is picked up here and there, the appropriate amount to stay on staff and keep some semblance of a normal routine, but not consume your life. You adapt surprisingly well, skipping that awkward stage of persistent guilt for having someone else handle your bills. It’s especially effortless when your now empty evenings are filled by Tony. It becomes easier to relax around him, oddly enough. You never thought that time would come, anticipating a lifetime of tiptoeing or a fiery end.

Funny, it feels like only yesterday when you were reeling at him buying a simple dress.

Between spending more time with Tony and less time working, you see more of what the city has to offer. The heightened level of status that dating Tony Stark brings unlocks a plethora of galleries, restaurants, and events you’d only dreamed of attending. Co-existing with the brazen personalities of the 1% could still be a pain, but now you know how to smile and pretend when it counts.

You even have the temerity to attend some alone. It’s much more fun with Tony, though. Your evenings almost always end inside your apartment, staying up and keeping Tony far later than you should. He rarely minds, often halfheartedly leaving to handle some issue or another. If your luck is high enough, no one needs Tony Stark, leaving him to occupy his time with his favorite person.

If you’re even luckier (or simply brave enough to ask) he’ll slide a taunting finger behind whatever teasing skirt or shorts you’ve chosen (specially to incite this reaction), whisper in your ear how perfect you taste and make your eyes roll. You’ve tried to reciprocate–an embarrassing number of times. Short of actually ripping his clothes off, you don’t know how else to get the message across.

Tony only takes your attempts as a sign that he’s succeeding at keeping your mind elsewhere.

During one of these late-nights, he’s working on doing just that when he notices you’re distracted for other reasons. He’s standing behind you in your dim bedroom, slowly working the zipper of your dress down as he trails the soft revealed skin with heavy kisses. Normally, you’d be panting, pressing against him trying for any bit of friction. Instead, he can see your tightly wound brows, the glossy flesh of your bottom lip jutting between two front teeth, thinking far too hard for how good this felt.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he hums lightly, turning you by your waist as the dark fabric pools at the floor.

Tony doesn’t still his lips at all, leaving tender marks down your neck and chest. The good news is it gets your breath choked and heavy just how he likes it. Unfortunately, your half-presence remains. He stops right before the airy lace of your bra begins, causing you to catch his eye.

“How come you’ve only taken me to the tower once?”

You don’t have a set event that prompted this question. The realization only dawned on you today. You’ve been dating one of the richest men on the planet for the better end of a year, and he’s taken you to his home a grand total of one time. Your brain is good at forgetting that night most days, but today you can’t shake it. It feels almost karmic to bring up bad memories, as if just speaking about it will bring it back into existence.

He laughs a bit when your issue proves so elementary.

“Seriously,” you stress, even though your voice wavers with the arousal he’s building. “We’ve been together all this time and I’ve never really seen where you live.”

“Promise you aren’t missing much.” Tony smiles, capturing your lips and guiding you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed.

“It’s only one of the largest companies in the world. Guess seeing the inside once is pretty lucky.” you sigh, feigning a dramatically sad tone.

You’re really trying to guilt him, making a purposeful effort not to soak into the heat of his touch. Hot hands snake up your thighs, thumbs brushing small circles into the inner skin. He dips below you as you sit, still humming his way up your legs with butterfly kisses.

“Might have been followed, couldn’t risk taking you home.” he mutters, preoccupied.

It’s not his fault you look too good to argue with right now (which you knew and were definitely using to your advantage). The dress you wore tonight might as well have been see-through– it hugged you like cellophane, and he made a mental note to buy you more in the same material.

While Tony’s busy leaving more hickeys on your thighs, a shiver runs through you. What would have happened had someone followed Tony’s car?

Your mind goes to work crafting all types of theories, and Tony recognizes the look plain as day. He stops with a stout sigh, leaning back on his heels. It pulls your attention back to him, looking down at him with uneasy eyes.

“You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know.”

Even if you’re not entirely sure what you need protecting from.

“Good, now do me a favor and lie back.”

You do as you're told, of course, more than enthusiastically.

Balance is important after all, though. So, while Tony gets what he wants now (as he usually does), he indulges you as well.

You made an off-hand comment about never actually seeing a broadway show in person, despite living in New York for literal years. Tony finds any missed luxury in your life unacceptable and naturally drops a small fortune to orchestrate a private show. While buying out the theater was partially for the romance, it would have also been too much exposure for him otherwise.

Afterwards, he makes a very notable detour from your usual route home, pulling you away from your long ramble about how awe-striking the show was. Asking just gets you a cheeky smile and turns your attention towards the tower.

You get the full tour that you weren’t afforded the first time (given the circumstances). The lobby you recall, with its marble floors and high ceiling. It’s well in the evening, leaving the tower empty minus a few guards and late-night staff.

You regret never paying attention in science when Tony guides you through the labs and workshops.

As you pass through room after room, each unnerves you. Most things of the scientific nature are lost on you, but you’re certain the high amount vials and chemicals you see would floor even Einstein.

You can’t place why they unsettle you, looking so out of place and painfully high-tech in stereotypical white walls. It also doesn’t help that Tony spiels about the building and not what lies on the tables three feet away.

You swallow your questions, fearing that the answer to be even remotely similar to the one that drove Pepper away.

Tony mentions having dinner upstairs, to which you smile and follow him into an adjacent elevator before you can stress yourself out further.

The doors open to a penthouse apartment that you don’t remember walking through before (definitely too caught up in thinking you were about to be dumped over a drunken mistake). You obviously expected Tony to live in the same luxury he exudes, but the decor and imported wood reminded you just how wealthy he was. He leads you to his office, tucked behind a frosted glass door that you do remember from last time.

“This,” he starts, swiping a small card against the door’s thin black reader with a quiet beep, “is where the magic happens, but it is off-limits without my permission.”

You give an understanding nod when he turns back, although you wanted to laugh at how quickly he switched from sounding like a complete nerd to stony-faced. Tony leaves the door open once you enter, tucking the card back into the pockets of his slacks.

You are naturally more curious than most (for better or for worse), and make quick work walking around the vast space, eyeing each shelf, table, and weird gadget. A pair of soft couches mirror one another in the center of the room, surrounding a cluttered coffee table of notes and books. A whiteboard stands nearby, covered in what’s probably math but could pass for ancient Greek. Every inch of the walls is lined with something–be it awards and diplomas or more books with words you’re convinced are made up. It strikes you then that the office lacks any windows, and you wonder if that’s by design or sheer chance.

At the back wall shines various lights and screens, below it a thin, large clear desk where Tony sits. The desk holds more of the odd, transparent screens, which Tony closes with the swipe of his hand as you approach. A compliment of some capacity about the decor is brewing when you notice the picture frame sitting nearby. Two figures pose in front of a row of trees, one clearly Tony, and the other a young man, with dusty brown hair and pristine in dark blue graduation robes. Tony’s arm wraps around the younger, smiling bigger than you’ve ever seen. The young man holds a slender booklet and a matching smile.

Predicting this, he answers the question before you figure out how to ask it.

“That’s Harley–don’t start getting any ideas, he’s not Pepper’s.” he says, pulling you by the waist into his lap.

“Is he your nephew or something?” you question, resting your head against the velvety fabric of his shirt.

“Howard Stark was a man of one child, to his disappointment, so no. Harley’s a family friend.”

“You just run around befriending random college kids?” you joke, dangling your legs over the edge of the chair.

“If I’m feeling generous enough.”

In the corner of your eye, you see a figure appear across the room in the empty door frame. A tall, older man waits–hands clasped behind his back in black pants and pressed white button up.

“Mr. Stark, there’s a visitor for you.”

He speaks as quickly as he appears, with an unexpectedly posh accent. Tony taps your knee, and you leave his lap very begrudgingly and watch with even more unnecessary sorrow as he exits the room. A promise is given about returning soon, but you know better than to believe that.

A word is exchanged between the two that you can’t hear across the large office. When Tony’s figure leaves, the other man enters. You notice his blue eyes as he comes closer, deciding to take a seat on one of the couches.

“Mr. Stark has requested I quote–keep you from dying of boredom–in his absence.” he says, standing at the head of the couch across from you.

“Has he now?” you laugh lightly.

The thing they don’t tell you about rich boyfriends? It takes time to make all that money, keeping them busy and away from their easily bored girlfriends. So, you nod when the man smiles, making a permissive motion towards the seat.

“My name is Jarvis, I work for Mr. Stark.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m [y/n]”

“You need very little introduction, ma’am. Mr. Stark has talked a great deal about you over these last several months.” he laughs, crossing his legs.

“Really?” you ask. It’s not extremely surprising, you just assumed Tony was perpetually occupied talking about other things. He did make a good move though, Jarvis is much more pleasant company than he usually keeps.

“Indeed, he’s quite fond of you.”

You aren’t used to hearing this–from anyone really. Everyone you know has no idea Tony exists (for better or for worse) and everyone he knows seemingly despises you. It’s a breath of fresh air that does wonders for your insecurities about this whole relationship. Not a complete cure, but the start to some form of remedy..

“And what do you do for Tony?” you ask, not wanting to be rude and keep the conversation entirely on yourself.

He ponders this for a moment, giving you the impression he’s never had to explain this before.

“I assist Mr. Stark in his day-to-day activities, so that he may devote more energy towards the company.”

What was with this calculated nature everyone around him seemed to take on? Still, Jarvis appeared to be a beacon of kindness (the accent might be biasing you). It’s bright enough to tempt you to ask Jarvis what you were too hesitant to ask Tony, mostly out of trepidation over the answer.

“I have to admit I’m a pretty terrible girlfriend–I don’t even know what Tony does.” you sigh and pout slightly.

Naivete was an old trick you didn’t mind pulling out of the bag now and again.

Jarvis chuckles, an optimistic sign that your tactics are working.

“Stark Industries is a manufacturing and research company that specializes in pharmaceuticals and biotech.”

Now that line sounds more rehearsed. More accurately, it’s strikingly similar to the first line that pops up when anyone searches up Stark Industries.

“Doesn’t sound much to me like a merchant of death.”

You might have been better off forgetting Steve’s words, but it’s all you can think of when you picture what lives in the labs just below you. As much as you wanted to play out the rest of your life with Tony in blissful ignorance, you were constantly exposed to things that made you question if it really was bliss.

You expected maybe a twitch of the brow from Jarvis, the face trying to compensate for what the mind already knows. Instead, Jarvis’ mouth turns downward, cocking his head in confusion at the moniker.

“Where did you hear that?”

Before you can answer, Tony’s voice bounces down the hallway. In the next second, he’s back in the office, and Jarvis is standing. You’re disappointed (and shocked) that Tony didn’t take as long as usual, having to cut the conversation short.

The older man shoots you a curious glance as he leaves—an unspoken reassurance that he does indeed expect an answer at a later point.

“Everything okay, doll?”

Tony asks, because you're too busy thinking to mind your face, and it looks troubled. You shake it off though, smiling and taking the hand he holds out.

The two of you have that dinner, though the entire evening you catch weathered blue eyes watching you from afar.

Remember that thing about rich boyfriends and their busy jobs? Yeah, that becomes a pain quickly. You could handle the phone calls on dates or distracted answers while an email is answered no problem. But once Tony brought you to the tower, he didn’t see a reason to keep you away anymore. You happily started spending most of your nights there. You just didn’t fully process the implications of Tony living where you work. Most days he manages to spare an hour here and there, interrupted by phone calls and meetings. So, often you roam around, trying to not wonder just what your boyfriend has to do to earn all that money.

You pick up on a lot of little things about his life from pure close-hand observation. The Tony you know is sweet and passionate. Tony working is almost an entirely different breed. You thank god that you’re just dating him and not working for him. The sternness he tended to use with you wasn’t exclusive, but dialed to an eleven when he came to his work.

The most jarring, however, is the constant presence of armed guards at the Tower, even in Tony’s penthouse. You think back to every date so far, scanning memories for shady figures waiting by exposed exits. A few potentials stand out, but you can’t be certain your memories aren’t being falsified by present events.

One morning, you pass one of the men on your way to the kitchen. It’s an early morning, at least for you, coming down the stairs as he pours a cup of coffee. It strikes you, since they normally keep near the elevator and you’ve never seen them do anything except stand around.

The bald man nods towards you, and out of nothing more than courtesy and habit, you nod back. He retreats to his post without another word soon after.

Despite the early hour, Tony’s already risen before you and is likely tucked away somewhere working. Peace is a valued comfort, of course, but the tower gave you an overwhelming sense of emptiness without Tony around.

Any mess you leave is miraculously cleaned (you learn this is Jarvis’ doing), and most of the tower is off-limits for you. Still, you enjoy being relatively closer to Tony than you were most days, so hanging around isn’t too much of a burden.

That morning proves fruitful as well, as you get to speak to Jarvis again. That’s not to say you haven’t seen him. In fact, he’s almost always somewhere nearby. The issue being that it’s normally coupled by Tony or other parties. This time, he’s alone.

You’d entered the kitchen that morning in a determined search for caffeine, planning to spend your day shopping for something new to wear for a gala that’s a ways away. It’s a much calmer experience without crowds, so you got an early start.

Jarvis enters soon after the guard leaves, setting fresh kitchen towels onto the island.

“Morning, ma’am.” he says, opening a cabinet across from you.

You laugh lightly, finding it odd that a man old enough to be your father would waste such honorifics on you. You inform Jarvis of such, to which he gives a chuckle of his own.

“It’s simply out of respect and the nature of my work, nothing more.” he explains, delicately laying each towel in the small space.

“You don’t find it weird calling people younger than you sir and ma’am?”

It’s a pretty genuine question, having never been in such a role yourself. The cabinet is shut with a soft thud as Jarvis turns towards you.

“I do not.”

He goes for the recently emptied coffee cup beside you, refilling it before you can tell him that’s not necessary.

“Might I inquire to you about something?” he questions, handing you the warm mug.

You were expecting a continuation of your earlier conversation. You had prepared questions of your own, of course. Mostly about Steve, and definitely a few about Pepper. A nod of agreement leaves you as the warm liquid slides down your throat.

“Do you not find it–strange, romantically involving yourself with someone so much older than you?”

The raise of his brow tells you he is similarly being genuine. This floors you though. Ironically, that was one of your main reasons for rejecting Tony all those months ago. But lately? You barely even thought about it. You’d stopped paying attention to the odd snide comments and the occasional bizarre look. Really, the fact only comes back to you when Jarvis mentions it. Come to think of it, you can’t recall Tony ever bringing attention to it either.

“I don’t really notice the little jokes and weird looks anymore, so no, not at all.” you shrug, taking another sip.

“I mean no disrespect, simply curious.” he laments.

“None taken, don’t worry.”

“Might I also ask then,” he pauses, testing out the words in his mouth first and waiting for your approval. “–how your family’s temperament is towards Mr. Stark?”

“My parents died when I was really young, and they were both only childs, so I’m gonna say it’s pretty neutral.”

Jarvis goes a tinge red at this, immediately apologizing as if it was somehow his fault. You can’t help but laugh at the contrite attitude. He stops once he sees the grin on your face, breathing a sigh of relief that he hadn’t seriously offended you.

“You’re fine, really, I’m surprised Tony never mentioned it to you.”

“Mr. Stark is typically a private man, and I doubt he would share such information with anyone without your permission.”

“Yeah, that can be– annoying.” you sigh.

“I understand, naturally is,” Jarvis nods towards you, walking past you to exit before halting. “Employ a bit of patience, if you can. Mr. Stark’s stress is greatly alleviated with your continued presence.”

If his behavior now was relaxed, you didn’t want to imagine how he was prior.

That afternoon, you returned to the tower, spoils in tow (and paid for with Tony’s matte black card). Despite the time, there wasn’t a sign of Tony anywhere. Most of the lights were off when you entered, causing you to pull out your phone flashlight like some kind of horror movie. You made your way through the penthouse, flipping switches and checking rooms.

Kitchen, empty. Office, empty. Gym, empty.

Your voice bounced through the hall as you climbed the stairs, calling out Tony’s name. Disappointedly, you were only met by silence. Out of the last forty-eight hours, a grand sum of eight of them you shared with him. One out every six hours (and most of those you were asleep). The recurrent solitude made an evening in your own home suddenly sound much more favorable.

You traipse into the bedroom, tossing the gown that you were very excited to show Tony into one of the massive closets. The random handful of items you had scattered around the room are thrown into your bag. Some you leave in their place–you knew you wouldn’t be away long. A bright light shines in your face when you fumble with your phone, reminding you to turn it off. It also gives you the literal lightbulb idea to text Tony.

[ heading home for the night, call me when ur free ]

In the still quiet of the penthouse, a beep reverberates behind you. Puzzled, you turn, noticing the golden light trickling from under the bathroom door.

“Tony?” you call out again, crossing the room towards the door.

On the other side, water runs for a moment, followed by the click of the lock as the door opens.

“Hey, honey.” he drawls, walking out with a sniffle.

“You okay?” you ask tentatively. “It was like, pitch dark in here.”

He pulls you into a welcomed embrace, wrapping large arms around your body tightly.

“I’m fine, they’re just timed. Gotta be eco-friendly, right?”

Tony punctuates his sentence with a kiss on your forehead. You stay in his embrace as long as possible, resting your head against his chest. His heart thumps heavily, beating like a rabbit through the soft cotton of his shirt.

Eventually, the embrace has to end, mostly so that Tony can plead to you to stay another night. He promises that he’s yours for the evening, and given that this was what you preferred anyway, you oblige.

First though, Tony has a surprise. One that he swears will make the tower feel more comfortable for you. His surprises are typically rather ornate or sickeningly expensive. This one, however, is moderately less materialistic than usual.

Down the hall from the frosted door of Tony’s office is a room that you were initially told was off-limits. As you reach the end of the hall, Tony explains he needed just a little more time for some ‘finishing touches’.

Another keycard is produced from his pocket, swiping on a reader much similar to the one in his office. When it beeps in response, the card is planted firmly in your hands.

“Go ahead, check it out.” he grins, motioning towards the door.

Tentatively, you enter the previously inaccessible space. Once inside, your jaw nearly drops. It’s not a large space, but it takes a while for you to process everything within.

Shelves stand tall with various jars and tubes of paint, elegant brushes and canvases of every size. Tables sit near pristine walls, freshly painted and holding any medium you could possibly want. The walls are bare, save for the antique painting hanging by the window. You recognize it instantly, not believing your eyes at first. Tony doesn’t need to say it for you to know–this was all for you.

What Tony does feel the need to say is that if everything isn’t to your liking, he can have it changed in a day. He worries as you stand silent, not reacting in explosive joyful glee like he hoped.

“No, no, it’s perfect.” you swiftly add, turning to him beaming.

You’re still in awe as relief passes through him as your arms wrapped around him. Somehow, Tony always manages to redefine what you thought you deserved. There’s a painting worth half a million dollars sitting less than 10 feet away, and it was purchased just for you.

An impressive length, all for a simple smile. How the hell could you ever settle for anything less from anyone else?

Sure, you don’t realize this is a purposeful gift to encourage you to stay around the tower more, and the knowledge wouldn’t change anything anyway.

After you thank him excessively for the next ten minutes (to which Tony’s response can mostly be summed up as ‘has literally no one done anything nice for you? ever?’), the dress you bought earlier comes to mind. Tony thought you learned by now that he’d buy you the world if it was for sale, but indulges in your feverish gratitude for the time being.

You do the leading this time, back into the bedroom where he waits on the black duvet for you to change. It’s a magical feat that you manage to get it zipped up alone. Stubbornness also plays its own role.

When you reemerge, it’s Tony’s turn to be rendered speechless. A sleeveless auburn number wraps your body, cinching at your waist and following to the floor. Cut-outs show off your midriff, letting the cool air cover your skin. The high level of regality is new to you, but you weren’t risking the embarrassment of being underdressed a second time. It’s also Tony’s favorite color to see you in (which you totally didn’t know and totally weren’t exploiting for this very purpose).

“Well?” you start, give a small twirl. “What do you think?”

There was a worry that he might find it too much. Another thing you picked up on over the last few weeks was Tony’s subtle disdain for clothing he found tacky or too revealing. You hadn’t managed to hit that threshold so far, and knew it better to avoid.

“As amazing as you look, I think you need to take that off before I end up ripping it to pieces.” he responds, voice low and hungry.

Solace finds you, pleased that you didn’t make a wrong choice. It’s brief though, because a second glance at Tony reveals that while he liked the choice, (almost too much, really) he also wasn’t joking in the slightest.

A raise of an eyebrow says it all–don’t make me repeat myself.

So, under his fervent commands, you wind up pinned below him, dress long discarded on the plush carpeted floors as his fingers curl inside of you. A hand keeps your wrists pinned tightly above your head, keeping you at his mercy. If you could call his unrelenting fingers mercy.

You quickly grow more frustrated than ever at the barrier of clothing on his body. It’s always goddamned there, holding back the warmth you can feel radiating through. His restraint prevents you from taking the friction you need. You’re further burdened by the teeth grazing your neck, sucking slow and teasingly on your pulse point. All the man had to do most days to turn you into a needy mess was kiss you, but after so many busy days, this was sweet torture.

Tony knew it too. The increasing pitch in your whine was music to his ears. It’s not before it’s broken and whimpery, your excitement coating his fingers. Every movement was overwhelming, and yet still managed to leave you desperate for more.

“Please, Tony, fuck-” you plead, interrupted by your own moan when he curves his fingers again.

“Aw, do you need something, darling?” he whispers, moving away from your neck. “I know I taught you better than that–use your words, pretty girl.”

This isn't an uncommon taunt of his, loving the embarrassed shy look that crawls over your face each time. He’s pleasantly surprised tonight, however, as you just about had it enough to give in. The award for longest time to make someone wait under they verbally beg for you to fuck them goes to Anthony Edward Stark, with an impressive record of eight months.

Your brows furrow, trying to find your center again to speak with clarity and not falter under his gaze.

“Would you stop being an asshole and just fuck me, please?” you sighed exasperatedly.

Manners would be something to correct later. For now, Tony’s happy to focus on rewarding your needy pleas.

Your wrists are granted all too short reprieve, as he takes little time undressing, climbing back on top of you and attacking your neck with hard, bruising kisses. The hard member you’re used to having constrained by high-end slacks feels larger pressed bare against your folds–hot and heavy as he returns a hand to your wrists.

His free hand aligns him at your entrance, stopping when he notices your tightly shut eyes. Now that simply won’t do.

“Open those pretty eyes.”

It’s a short and breathy order, the tone earning your instant compliance. Tony’s eyes are dark above you, catching them only for a moment before he swiftly sinks into you (he’ll allow it this time).

There’s little resistance, as you were already a mess from earlier, but his thick member still stretches your walls. You cry out when he reaches the hilt, snapping his hips into you only to withdraw and fully sink back into you with the same speed.

Tony gains a new found appreciation for the philosophy behind a reward being sweeter the longer you wait. There’s nothing more delectable in the whole world right now than the fractured moans escaping you, despite your visible attempts to bite them back. As much as he wants to commit this coy little expression of yours to memory, he’s clearly not doing his job if you’re able to hold anything back.

The hands above you let go, gripping your hips instead to thrust deeper into you. It does just what he needs to do, listening to the sweet sounds of your whines as his cock reaches right where you needed to. All this time without h, combined with his fast and hard thrusts has moan after moan falling from your lips.

Tony can hardly contain himself either, high off the sticky mess you're making. Your neck is perfectly dotted with tender marks from his mouth, only driving his ecstasy further.

He knows he’s being more than rough, pounding into you relentlessly–you’re just taking him so well, your nails leaving tiny red crescents on his thighs. It drives him wild, possession does go both ways after all. Every erratic breath and tremble of your legs came from him. You were his–who begged for him and moaned his name.

The fast, rough pace pushes you to your peak not long after, and Tony recognizes the stuttery pitch of your voice.

“Go ahead, darling.” he whispers into your ear, voice soft and gentle despite how deep he was inside you.

Your legs wrap around his waist as your core swells with pressure, desperate for him to be impossibly closer than he was. It’s not long after your voice breaks altogether, falling into a slight plea as your walls tighten around him.

The feeling of you losing yourself around him sets off something entirely new in Tony. He’d never miss another chance to make you his like this. A deep groan echoes in the bedroom walls, unsteady hands holding your hips tighter.

He was absolutely nowhere near done with you.

Before you can catch your breath, it’s taken as he slams into you with renewed energy. A string of curses leave him when your back arches into him, straining against his hold.

Your body feels white-hot with pleasure. You were used to Tony pushing you into orgasm after orgasm, alternating between his mouth and fingers until you’re a pile of jelly below him. This was entirely different, hit that spongy spot inside of you over and over as your walls shutter. It leaves your whole form trembling, mind blanking each time he bottoms out.

“Shit, Tony, I can’t,” you whimper.

It’s a broken plea, already feeling your body go taunt a second time. Still, you hope for a bit of reprieve, just enough to bring your mind back to earth.

“You will for me, darling.” he groaned, voice heavy and breathless, bringing a hand to your hair and exposing your neck to his teeth for another assault. “I know you can take it.”

A shiver runs through you as his latches onto your neck, deciding you could stand to have more marks across your skin. You’re completely lost in the throbbing member splitting you apart, aimlessly grabbing at the soft sheets below you. He leans back, pulling your hips up to keep slamming to you, letting a hand wrap around your throat and press against the fresh mark left there.

“All mine, aren’t you?” Tony moans above you, close to his own peak. He just needs to feel your body to submit to him one more time.

The tender pain in your throat mixes deliciously next to the sweeping euphoria. You want to answer (mostly because you know he’s expecting one), but all your mind can zone into is how electrified your skin is.

“Aw, is my girl too fucked out to answer me already?” he taunts, even if the sight of you this blinded by pleasure nearly sends him over.

No one else could ever have you like this, he’d make sure of it. You were past shame over how his words left you, cruel or praiseful. Any utterances that made it known you were his turning your body into melting sugar.

Tony’s own hips stutter, bucking into you as your peak hits you again, your moan silenced by the tight hand around your throat. He’s close behind you, keeping his rhythm until the shake in your legs lessens.

He sinks into you, caressing your face and burying himself back into your neck. A long moan floods your ears, feeling him still inside of you and paints every inch of your walls white. Hot, heavy breaths cover your ear as he fills you, not withdrawing until he’s certain you’ve taken every drop.

You’re an exhausted pile of bones below him, leaving him feeling quite prideful. Stark on the other hand is oddly energetic. He disappears for a moment, returning after putting his boxers back on and grabbing a towel.

He lies beside you, watching the rise and fall of your chest. Soft praises and peppered kisses follow, trailing along your face and shoulders. He tells you over and over how perfect you did, though you're still barely present.

You’re focused on calming your breathing, so Tony’s praises fall onto distracted ears. You aren’t that distracted, though, as his next words ring through clear as day.

“I love you, doll, you know that?” It’s barely above a whisper, spoken between into the delicate skin of your collarbone.

You turn your head almost instantly, blinking rapidly because surely you didn’t hear that right. The words left him before he knew what he was saying, caught up in the swirl of post-coital bliss. In an unusually empathetic act of vulnerability, he stands by it. The declaration is repeated louder to your stunned face.

He’s not that vain that he expects an immediate reciprocation–though you eagerly give one anyway. That's all good and well, except he senses concern in your voice.

“That’s just how every guy wants to hear that, thank you.” Tony jokes, propping himself onto his elbow with a grin.

“That came out wrong, I just,” you chuckle softly, trailing off. “You are being genuine, right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks matter-of-factly.

“I guess–be honest, you really don’t mind being with someone like twenty years younger than you?”

He throws his head back in laughter, and you use the little energy you have to swat at his shoulder.

“You’ve been talking to Jarvis, haven’t you?

“How the-what do you mean?” you fully turn on your side to face him, more puzzled than before. You also worried you somehow crossed a line discussing Tony with someone else in private.

“Don’t sweat it–Jarvis is more of an old friend than an employee, regardless of whatever the old bat says. He’s just overprotective.”

“And he was worried about us?”

“More about you, specifically, that you were some covert gold-digger playing the long game for a chance at the Stark inheritance. He didn’t believe that I had to damn near beg on my hands and knees for a simple dinner.” he says indignantly, and you have to roll your eyes.

“What if I was? You don’t know.”

“Please, no one trying to woo me for my money would start as many arguments with me as you do.”

“I do not start arguments, if anything you’re the one-” you start to defend yourself, then Stark raises an eyebrow and the sentence dies on your tongue. “Okay, point taken.”

Tony pulls your naked form towards him, your head resting on his chest as your body curls beside his. You’re more than spent, the sound of his heart still racing after all this time doesn’t process under the lure of sleep.

For now, you’re too in love to care.

When you wake, Tony’s absent from your side. This is not unusual in the slightest for any night you spend here, but it's barely four in the morning.

You scan the dark room momentarily before switching the bedside light on. Groggily (and on sore legs), you rise, tying a short robe around yourself. Thinking of yesterday, you actually check the bathroom this time to find it empty. You ventured out of the bedroom to an empty and pitch black hallway. Deja vu feels like an understatement.

You start to call out his name just like before, stopping once you see the light flowing from the kitchen downstairs. As you descend, Tony’s voice grows louder. His back comes into view once the final step is crossed, with another figure in front of him.

Tony swivels slowly when you enter, and you notice the person he’s speaking to is the same young man from the photo. You cross your arms over your body as best you can when you enter the space, suddenly feeling very underdressed for meeting a stranger.

“Sorry, did we wake you?” Tony asks apologetically, to which you shake your head and yawn.

“Harley, this is [y/n], [y/n], Harley.” he continues.

Harley holds a blue duffel in his right hand, giving you a curt wave with the other. Under the bright kitchen lights, however, he gets a better look at you. You don’t understand why in the moment, still half-asleep, but he makes an unsettled face at you before darting his sharp eyes back to Tony. After which Tony tells you he’ll be up in a moment and you return back to the warmth of the sheets without protest.

It’s not until you step into the bathroom later in the day that you figured out why he looked at you that way. A few tender marks still spotted the left side of your neck and the top of your chest. While not the best first impression, it sends a wave of excitement through you at the sight. A bit of concealer goes a long way after you shower.

Tony explains that Harley is just stopping by briefly, and that he’ll be leaving after dinner tonight as you get dressed. You obviously spend the entire day worried about it, convinced any further interaction with Harley will be painfully awkward and uncomfortable for you both.

Unfortunately, you end up wishing things were just awkward.

Jarvis prepares an excellent meal, and you make it through the first two courses with Harley’s eyes piercing you across the large dining table. It’s not constant, as he manages to dart away each time Tony speaks to him as if he never looked your way. Engaging in conversation becomes troublesome under his gaze (though it’s mostly just Tony asking Harley about some trip he took). You almost start to think you’re imagining it, wondering what the hell his issue could possibly be.

Thankfully, Tony has to excuse himself for a phone call, leaving the two of you alone.

The moment Tony’s out of earshot, Harley leans in, placing his elbows on the table and clasping his hands.

“Are you even old enough to drink?” he questions dramatically.

“Are you?”

“Funny.” he snorts, taking a bite of roast potatoes.

He stays quiet for a second as Jarvis clears away empty dishes from the table.

“That’s not a yes, though.” he hums in a high pitch.

“If it would get you to stop staring, I’m twenty-six.”

Harley hums in approval, sitting back in his chair.

“Was that really your problem? You know you could’ve just asked at literally any point in the last hour, or hell, asked Tony.”

“Oh, I did.” he scoffs, shrugging his shoulders.

Tony returns, taking his seat in the same breath that Harley wipes his mouth and stands.

“Well, I’ll leave you and your child bride to it.” he declares sarcastically, turning for the exit.

“Excuse me?”

Tony’s voice stops Harley in his tracks, rising and closing the distance to the young man. You heard worse, but based on the tightness in his jaw you can assume Tony hasn’t.

“Oh, come on. She’s not even four years older than me. What else would you like to call it?” Harley jests, laughing.

“You have a flight to catch, don’t you?” The edge in his tone shocks you, and cuts Harley’s laughter straight away.

He takes his leave without another comment, but he does give you another overdramatic wave on the way out. You tell Tony what passed between you two in his absence and ask what all that was about, but Tony just shakes his head and apologizes.

You’re not sure why–it hardly bothered you as much as it did him.

Later that night you overhear Tony on the phone. You presume it’s with Harley, hearing Tony mention something about ‘showing more respect’ and ‘minding your own business’. You hope it isn’t Harley–even though the kid was an ass, Tony speaks with a ferocity that unnerves you just as the eavesdropper.

Fall passes by without more pop-up visits from impolite guests.

While painting will always be one of your first true loves, even the strongest of loves can grow tiring. The technical term is typically referred to as a lack of inspiration. You can’t get a single image out of your brain and onto a canvas. It’s a well deserved burnout though, the rest of the studio space lined with finished paintings. A consistent month and half of work proved quite the endeavor. Most are simple plays with color, though there are a few you came to be very proud of.

Yeah, a break would probably do you some good.

There’s more than one traditional seat for you to choose from, all extremely lush and definitely better for your back. The floor works a lot better though, so you stand and stretch the soreness from your body. Would you learn your lesson and sit in the chair next time? Nope.

The evening was growing near, evident by the lemony sky. Your hyperfixation meant a lot more nights indoors, even on the sparse evenings Tony was free. All signs pointed towards taking advantage of what was likely one the last warm nights of the season.

You wasted little time changing out of your paint covered sweats, throwing on a simple blue skirt and white sweater.

On your way downstairs to his office, you spot Jarvis in the kitchen preparing a drink you presume is for Tony.

“Oh, I can take that to him.” you intercept him at the bottom, taking the cold glass in your hands.

“Very well.” he nods to you, taking in your dressed up state as you walk away, not expecting either of you to leave the tower that night. “Shall I have the car ready for you and Mr. Stark?”

“For me, definitely. Can’t promise anything about him.” you call back to him, increasing your volume as you head further into the hall.

You knock once you reach the glass door, waiting idly until you hear his voice call out come in. Tony doesn’t lift his head when you enter, scrawling away at something atop his desk. You hear him muttering to himself softly, shirt disheveled and unbuttoned.

You’re certainly not silent as you cross the space. Your heavy boots made a mild thud on the hardwood floor, surely loud enough to get the average person’s attention, you thought.

Nope, wrong.

He does know you’re there, however– the screens in front of him are switched off as you approach the desk, head never lifting from the papers.

You wait patiently beside his desk, setting the drink down the corner. His attention doesn’t yield for no less than five minutes after. When he does finally address you, it’s with tired eyes and gleams.

“My, my, my,” he whistles, guiding you over to straddle his lap. “What a fantastic surprise.”

Tony’s hands can never be idle more than a moment, already snaking them under your skirt to the supple skin of your backside. He’s much more interested in that than anything you say about leaving the tower. Who could blame him, really. Any red-blooded man would after hours of phone calls and calculations.

You twitch when he squeezes hungrily, sensitive from the same hands the night prior. He’d nearly forgotten, and the remainder is a good amusement.

“You know, I could get so much more work done with you just like this.” he hums, lifting your sweater to graze your stomach.

“You’re welcome to join me.” you point out, linking your arms around his neck.

“There’s nothing more I want, but I have a few more things to take care of here.”

You figured as much, of course. Knowing that answer was coming doesn’t make it any less disappointing. Conversely, seeing your smile falter for any reason is akin to a tragedy for Tony.

“How about this, it’s still early– you go out, have fun, I’ll pick you up for dinner later.” he concedes.

That fixes the problem, earning Tony a very satisfied kiss from you. It’s long and heavy, nearly enough to make him consider sending you out on shaky legs, but he resolves to bring that fantasy to life another time.

An hour or so drifts away as you take in the fresh autumn air, window-shopping from store to store. Close to when you're due to meet Tony, you stumble across something you can’t be sure is a really bright bar or a super dark restaurant. As you go for a better look through the towering windows, the doors beside you swing open.

You spot Steve first, getting a clear view of a reddened cut above his eye. You fail at turning away from the door in time. It was worth a shot, even if he was just five feet away.

“Oh, would you knock it off–I’m not gonna bother you.” he exclaims exasperatedly, a deep slur in his words (so that solves that mystery).

You give a half-hearted surrender with your arms, watching him head for the street corner. Mid-way, he stops, turning back unsteadily.

“You still with Stark?” he questions.

“What’s it to you?”” you scoff, rolling your eyes. This was what you wanted to avoid–annoying people and their annoying judgements.

“Just don’t tell him you saw me, okay. I don’t need more shit with him right now.”

Remarkably, Steve sounds genuine. Well, as genuine as a drunk man can sound. A grand opportunity presents itself. Someone with a lot more information than you needs something of you.

“Sure, okay.” you agree, watching a breath leave Steve. “If you can tell me what you meant at the party.”

Steve, having drunk every drop of Kentucky Bourbon on the block, happily obliged your question for the small price of not dealing with Stark.

If asked to make a list of all the things you guessed Tony was involved in, your brain would assume the best of the worst to ease its conscience. Steve’s answer is, tragically, nowhere on that list.

You wander around for a bit playing moral adjudicator in your mind. It’s a consuming task, and in your concentration you space completely on the fact that you were expected somewhere. In your bag, your phone buzzes to no answer, muffled in the city’s noisy ambience.

You have to see for yourself, which makes the tower your destination after you’ve calmed your nerves enough. It’s been ages since you’ve taken the subway anywhere, though you somehow manage to work through the busy platforms. You remember you live in the age of technology, deciding to rely on your phone for navigation.

Two missed calls and around five unanswered texts from the past half hour await you, all from Tony. You swear to yourself as the train car rocks, hurriedly typing a response.

[ where are you? ]

[ on the way back now. didn’t feel well. ]

Lying feels like swallowing a bitter seed. You know that ‘s not an answer. You know you’ll have to find some way to explain the missed calls later. Honestly, that might be the harder task than covering a lie. All you hoped was that New York traffic would play in your favor and you could make it back before him.

The luscious bells of victory are right in your sight as elevator dings! open. Your genius plan to check his office is foiled quickly, the black card reader blinking back at you tauntingly.

A moment passes where you question your own motivations. Why were you even bothering to let someone else get into your head again? You could ask him anything, so why lie to him when you chose to stay in the dark–

You all but fly up the stairs, striding through Tony’s bedroom and into the bathroom. It takes a while for you to find it, having to scour the numerous cabinets one by one. Your hands touch a rough leather pouch, right under the sink.

You open it tentatively, praying for Steve to be wrong, but your fingers find the small plastic baggie within, and your stomach flips when you know he was telling the truth.

You don’t have long to process it. The elevator sounds again from below

Shit.

You thought you had more time to craft a better excuse.

“What happened? Everything okay?”

His voice is stern even if his words are sweet, turning his body towards yours as you enter the kitchen. Your hands reach for a glass to fill with water, needing a distraction to ward off his gaze.

“Got a little dizzy, took the subway back.”

“You took the subway alone? This late?”

You can’t tell if he’s wrestling between concern and suspicion, or just pissed. Although, here would be where a normal person would remember that under a year ago you took the subway later than this five nights a week.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just going to get some rest.” you smile weakly, swallowing the rest of your water and heading to walk past him.

Tony makes a quick step to the side to keep you there, looking down at you with pointed eyes. Despite the small heat in his eyes, a hand caresses your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

“Who were you with?” he asks slowly.

“No one.” you replied, keeping your voice light and confident.

Or so you thought. Tony’s fingers wrap the base of your nape, tilting your head slightly to see if you have the gall to lie to his face.

“Is there a reason you’re lying to me?”

“How long?

“How long what?” he scoffs, unyielding.

The tiny plastic you’ve been white-knuckling for the past few minutes is dangled inches from his face. That hardened jaw falters, shortly returning with a dry chuckle and sly smirk.

“How long have you been meeting Steve behind my back?”

part four coming soon

tag request: @those-late-night-feels

#seikkoiwrites #tony stark x reader #tony stark #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark smut #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #tw dubious consent #tw dubcon

188 notes · View notes

ccbunnv · 4 months

Note

Villain Bill smut is a need 🙏🙏

i am not promoting infidelity in this fic, this is all fictional n please for the love of god do not be a cheater

˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 villain! bill x fem! reader smut

"fuck..." you moaned, as your lover's fingernails dug into the fat of your thighs, the sound of his tongue lapping against your cunt filling the room.

"baby, are you okay?" your boyfriend asked through the phone, and you responded nervously, "yeah! I just, forgot uh...moisturizer..."

Bill's eyes glanced up at you and you stopped a moan from escaping, which elicited a chuckle from him.

"well, anyways, I'm just saying I..." your boyfriend continued on with his ramble, and about that one reporter and how good she looked, and how you should look like her.

everything was basically static to you. you couldn't focus on his words, not when your boyfriend's arch enemy was eating you out like this. the way he was so obsessed with you, in love with you, it made you feel like the only girl in the world.

a low hum would leave his throat everytime he fucked you with his tongue, as if the taste of your pussy was like some sort of michelin-star delicacy to him. his hands worshipped every curve of your body, he made sure you felt like the goddess you were.

he held your hips down as he thrusted his tongue in again, exploring as far as he could go, tasting every nook and cranny. his manicured hands explored your body like a sacred temple.

your body jolted as he brushed against a sensitive spot, and he smirked upon noticing your reaction to it. he did again and again, not showing even an ounce of mercy in pleasuring you.

"fuck!" you suddenly moaned out loud, which stopped your boyfriend's rambling.

"y/n? what the fuck is going on with you?" he asked, "are you cheating on me?"

"w-what? no!" you responded desperately, "you know me!"

"well, what the fuck are you doing?" he said, and you could hear him getting up.

"uh," you stammered, and Bill reached in to take your phone, he placed it on his shoulder, his head tilted downwards to press against your device so he could hear your boyfriend sputter in rage.

his hands fondled with the leather belt, and he threw it onto the ground once it was out. he pulled the zipper down and tugged his boxers down along with his pants.

"I swear, y/n, if you don't tell me what the fuck you're doing right now I'm going to--" your boyfriend yelled, but a snicker from Bill caught his attention.

"who the fuck are you!?" he shouted, while Bill lined his dick against your cunt. he pushed the entire length in and you moaned, feeling it fill you up just right.

Bill responded, "none of your business, but god, your girlfriend looks so hot fucking herself on my cock right now."

"hey I know that voice--BILL!" slight shuffles of a bed could be heard as your boyfriend stood up.

"hey Alejandro," Bill said in a sing-song voice, "holy shit, your girlfriend's gorgeous, dude."

you blushed at that comment.

"aw," he smiled warmly down at you, "look at her, being so pretty for me, sometimes I wonder how you even pulled a girl like her."

small whimpers and moans escaped your throat as he fucked you, which made him laugh, "so cute, too."

"do I fuck you better?" he asked you, and you nodded.

"c'mon, baby, say it." he cooed, running his hands through your hair.

"y-yes..." you whined, and he said, "good girl."

"my cock just fills you better, doesn't it?" he asked again.

"yes...!" you moaned, burying her face into the pillow.

"it's better than your cuck of a boyfriend's, isn't it?" he teased, and you let out a loud, sob-like moan, "yes!"

the little sound that indicated someone had hung up rang through your phone and Bill laughed. your boyfriend's such a sore loser.

𓆩♱𓆪

#tokio hotel #y2k #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz smut

131 notes · View notes

edenalieth · 9 months

Text

A FUZZY FEELING

Pairing: Minho x Y/N

Genre: strangers to lovers, fluff fluff fluff (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

You found a small kitten during a rainy day, little did you know it would be the bond to your next romance…

Words: 5K

A.N: hi guys! im still trying to write more often huhu so here is a minho fluff! im not really used to write full fluff so your opinion truly matters to me (reblog and comments are very much appreciated). english not being my first language, i apologize for the possible mistakes… a big thank you to my friend maria and enjoy ;) — 230831

The rain was pouring outside. Why didn’t you bring a damn umbrella ? It’s not like you didn’t check the weather forecast on your phone before going out. Apparently, the 40% chances of downpour didn’t convince you and you didn’t want to clutter your small hand bag with such a big object… Now, you were looking awfully foolish.

Your clothes were getting wet, your hair were a mess, all of this only because of that stupid guy you met on an app and didn’t show up. Yes. It was a shitty day.

You were grumbling, each steps you took on the sidewalks soaking your sneakers. You needed to find a place to hide, at least for a bit. You would have preferred to go home quick, not wanting to show yourself to anyone looking like this, but you could feel your hands and feet getting cold.

The place you were at was thankfully crowded with different shops and one especially caught your eyes. It was a pretty small café, a little bit hidden behind some trees. Warm light was coming from it and you could see people happily seeping on their drinks, eating some delicacies and chatting. This would be perfect ! Hastily walking towards it, already thinking about the hot drink you would order, you put a halt to your run when you heard some muffled noises. They sounded familiar to you and you were wondering where they were coming from. Checking your surroundings, you couldn’t see anything. You were about to give up when you heard them again. Small meows. Following them, you almost stumbled over a little dirty plushie. At least, this is what you thought it was until you saw it trembling, small pointy ears dressed on its head, its tail enclosing its frail body. It was a kitten.

Its orange and white fur was sticking and it was crying out for help, probably looking for its mom, shivering against the pavement. Apparently, someone was having a rough day too… Moved by the small creature, you crouched down to analyze the situation.

« Hi little thing » you softly said. « Why are you here ? » you talked to the cat as if it was about to answer you any time. You scoffed at the thought of it. It didn’t seem to be hurt, there wasn’t any blood or weird swelling. However, rain wasn’t giving you a break and was getting heavier. Your muscles were getting stiff, you had to make a decision quickly. You weren’t sure if it was okay for you to pick it up like this. Its mom was probably going to be disturbed by the unknown scent on her baby, on the other hand, leaving it near the road wasn’t an option either.

Stretching the fabric of your jacket, you carefully grabbed the kitten, who didn’t show an ounce of resistance, too weak and cold to do so. It was literally fitting in the palm of your hand, the sight of it making your heart break a bit… You noticed a space between two shops which seemed to be dry enough for the little guy. It would be safe under those bushes until its mom would find it. You put it down delicately, dirt already staining its fur and gave a little pat between its ears to reassure it. « Here you go! I’m sure your mom will come back soon. Good luck little one ».

Saying you were feeling guilty was an understatement, even more after hearing it meowing again… You had to pull yourself together, you had made the best choice. You couldn’t just pick it up and bring it home in case its mom would come back. It was better to wait for few days. You just hoped that, if it was left alone, a kind soul would find it again and help. Giving it one last glanced, you waved at him and went back towards you first destination: the café.

As you opened the door, you were welcomed by the sound of small bells and warm brown eyes. The man behind the bar was cleaning some cups with a towel, the sleeves of his black shirt rolled up, staring right at you. He put down his stuff and came to greet you.

« Welcome. For one person ? », he asked, a soft smile on his face. « Yes please », you answered. The barista gestured you to follow him to a table and handed you the menu for you to choose. You thanked him as he walked away to take care of the other customers. Unzipping your jacket, you put it on the back rest, hoping it would dry fast. Bringing your attention back to the menu, you were absent-mindedly looking at it. Your brain was fuzzing with questions and worries about the stray cat. Was it really ok to leave it like that ? Maybe you should go back and take it to the vet… But, if its mom was close it would be cruel to take her baby away.

Biting your nails and lost into your thoughts, you didn’t even notice that the auburn haired boy was back.

« Did you make your choice ? », he was holding a pen, unconsciously taping on a notebook, his cat like eyes questioning you, his head slightly tilted to the side. He was curiously looking at you, his brows slightly furrowed. Taken aback by his question, you vaguely answered. « Hmm… I will take a hot chocolate and… hmm… whatever cake you think would go along with it. Thank you. »

« Then I would recommend the pistachio and raspberry tart » he offered, waiting for your approval. « Perfect ! ». He nodded and grabbed the menu you were handing him before going back to the bar, not without a last glance to your table. After several minutes, the brown haired man came back with your order. You gladly took it and tried to enjoy it, however, your stomach was kind of tied with a knot at the memory of the frail wet cat. Despite your reluctance, the hot chocolate going down your throat felt like a relief. You could feel your entire system getting its energy back sip after sip and you thanked the heavens for putting this place on your path. You would have to come back in a less miserable state and not with a mind full of worries.

Time went by and you had to go home. You were still thinking of what you could do. Maybe you could come back the next day to check on the animal ? With your job schedules it might be a bit difficult but that would be better than nothing.

Looking out the window, the rain hadn’t stop at all… Never mind. One last run towards the bus stop wouldn’t be so bad. A soft voice startled you « Was everything fine ? », he asked while clearing your table and the fact that you barely touched the pie didn’t go unnoticed. « Oh! You didn’t like it ? I’m sorry, I should have recommended something more simple maybe… » You stopped him « No! Not at all! It was delicious! »

Visibly relieved by your statement, he continued « Then, would you like me to pack it for you to bring at home ? ». You accepted, thankful on how thoughtful the man was. Following him to the countertop to pay the bill, you thought about this word again: thoughtful. Maybe you could ask him to keep an eye on the cat ? It was a bit inappropriate to do so, after all, he had his job and probably a ton of things to do after that… Yet, the way he was patiently gazing at you, clumsily looking for your credit card, made you think it would be fine.

« Can I ask you something ? You, obviously can say no, I wouldn’t mind » you said sheepishly. The man was visibly curious. Were you going to ask for his number ? Was it why you seemed a bit embarrassed around him ? He was full of expectations but probably not that one. « Of course ! »

You were kind of fidgeting while paying the bill. « Well, I have came across a small kitten earlier and I’m really worried about it… Its mom wasn’t around and it was trembling. Do you mind looking for it ? I let it near your store, under the bushes so it could dry. » Visibly surprised by your request, he quickly tried to keep his composure and hide the slight deception. « Where exactly did you let it ? » he asked smiling as an even brighter smile was forming on your face. You started to describe the exact spot you let it and thanked the man a hundred times for his help. « No worries, I have three cats myself » he laughed.

You were about to leave when he noticed that he forgot to give you the tart. « Miss, wait! » he stopped you, gently grabbing your wrist. « You forgot this and please take this as well ». In his hand was the food bag and an umbrella. You tried to politely decline the offer but he insisted, saying the pie would go to waste otherwise. You blushed a little, profusely thanked him and went to catch the bus.

The umbrella was a blessing and you thought that, maybe, he was an angel who helped to make your day better. You would have to return it to him as soon as possible and ask him about the stray kitten. You didn’t even know his name…

Finally, the bus appeared and you jumped inside it. Sitting comfortably, you put your hands inside your jacket’s pockets when your fingers came across a paper that wasn’t there before. Intrigued, you pulled it out to see what it was. Handwritten on it was a phone number with a message: « Please call me so I can give you news of your furry friend — Minho Lee ». A weird little drawing was next to it, it looked like a strange face. You giggled. Lee Minho. Here was the name of your helper. Your heart felt warm at the idea of him taking care of the cat and got you happy the whole ride.

✧✧✧

« Where the hell are you running to ? » asked your coworker. « I have an appointment! » You half screamed while heading to the exit. It was the end of your schedule and one thing kept you going the whole day: you were going to see the kitten. You waved them goodbye, your bag in one hand, Minho’s umbrella in the other.

Last night, you did call him. It was kind of awkward at first and very polite, until you heard his cats meowing, asking for their food. Minho seemed a bit overwhelmed and couldn’t keep up with your small talk. He apologized and hang up. Few days passed and you had exchanged some messages with the café worker. He sent you a picture of a cardboard shelter he made, where you could see some old blankets, milk and food, then some messages to plan your meeting. He also reassured you saying that your friend wasn’t cold anymore but its mom hadn’t showed up. You were worriedly looking at your screen when you received another text from Minho.

| minho lee: fluffy boy is waiting for you!

A picture was attached to it. It was kinda blurry, the kitten was probably moving around, but you could see the orange and white fur of it which looked like a cotton ball. Asking for the man’s help had been the best idea. After 40 minutes, you finally arrived to destination. A panel with the word « closed » was hanging on the front door. Getting closer of the glass you used your hands as a shield to look inside. Minho was actively sweeping the floor but as soon as he turned around he gestured for you to come. You entered the café, once again welcomed by the bells’ symphony.

« Give me a second, I’m almost done » he asked, one finger up to emphasize his sentence.

« No problem, I’m sorry to bother at this moment of the day… »

« Yea, you’re right. You’ve been a bother from the start » he jokingly said. You looked at him and sticked your tongue out. He shook his head and rolled his eyes at your childish behavior but, deep inside, he could feel his heart beating a bit faster. It only had been less than a week since you met each other, however, he wanted to talk to you every day and felt strangely close to you. Things were still pretty formal but he could see that you were slowly opening up.

« Ok! I think everything is done! We can go. » he stated, both of his hands on his hips, looking around as a last check.

« Where are we going already ? » you gently asked, following him as you were leaving the place. « To Sondonri association. It’s where I let the kitten. Its mom didn’t show up and it was visibly loosing weight… » he closed the door and went to the parking behind the shop. « I would have kept it with me if I wasn’t so busy with work… » this last sentence was more of a murmur and you could see a wrinkle on his forehead. He had been worried.

You took place on the passenger seat while the brown haired boy was starting the car to drive you to destination. During the trip, you talked about your day and he also told you that the association you were going to was the same one where he adopted his three cats (or his sons as he liked to call them). Soon enough, you were in front of the association… which was closed.

« Wait ? What time is… Oh… », his mouth was forming a small cercle, letting his bunny teeth slightly showing. Minho was clearly dumbfounded as he looked at the hour on his watch. It was passed 7:30pm.

« Don’t tell me you didn’t check the opening hours ? » you looked at him, half laughing, half sarcastic but the man was remaining silent.

« It happens to the best of us, ok ? I was s-sure it was closing at 8! » he stuttered, hopelessly trying to defend himself. He frowned and his ears were turning red, embarrassed by the situation and you couldn’t help but laugh. You put a compassionate hand on his shoulder.

« Yea sure. » you rolled your eyes. « But I owe you one, so why don’t we go eat somewhere ? ». Your offer seemed to surprise him and the redness of his ears was spreading through his cheeks. You couldn’t really tell tho, the dusky light distorting his real skin tone. « Exactly, so be more respectful. » Minho scoffed and you gently pushed him with your shoulder. He flashed you a mischievous grin and you realized how handsome he was. Of course, you noticed that since day one. Still, the more you learnt to know him, the more you found him beautiful inside and out. You especially liked his funny and devoted personality, as well as his cat like eyes, his manly hands (they seemed really soft!) and his li-… Wait a minute. Your thoughts were running a bit too wild and your friend was looking at you, confused by your sudden change of emotion. You made him turn over to go back to the car, which he followed not without a hint of hesitation and asking on where you were going to have a diner. But honestly, you had no idea… You ended up going to the closest konbini, eating ramyeon at the store, drinking and enjoying the evening. You discovered that he had a sweet spot for pudding.

« Pudding ? Really ? »

« What ? Is it that weird for a man to like sweet things ? » he side eyed you, still eating his desert with a pout.

« I don’t know, you work at a café. I was expecting something else, I guess ».

« Maybe but sometimes simple things are the best » Minho stated with a proud face. And he was right. This evening was pretty simple. You both here, eating and talking about your lives, learning to know each other, talking about your furry friend. It truly was the best.

« Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home ? » he offered for the nth time.

« Yes, don’t worry. I’m not really far. » you reassured him even if he wasn’t completely ok with it.

« Mmh… Fine. But send me a text, you know, just to be sure you didn’t get into a weird situation or something. ». The brown haired man was intensely staring at you, as a warning. « I promise ».

As soon as you arrived, you kept your words.

| you: im still alive!

| minho: ugh, guess I will have to bear with you a bit longer then

| you: meanie…

| minho: :p

Removing, your jacket and putting your bag on the coffee table, you realized that you totally forgot to return his umbrella. Thankfully, you were seeing each other at the association tomorrow and, this time, you would be able to see the rescued cat.

| you: at which hour tomorrow ? and, please, dont mess it up this time

| minho: tch! you loved spending time with me!

His words made your heart flutter, it was true. You really enjoyed your time together.

| minho: let’s say around 11am, sounds good for you ?

| you: perfect! see you tomorrow then, good night!

| minho: g’night y/n

This night, you could barely sleep. Your head was filled with his face, his smile, his voice calling your name… Holding your pillow tight, you tossed it aside while facing the feeling, a sweet feeling blooming in your heart.

✧✧✧

You were awake at 7 this morning, too excited to keep sleeping. What was happening to you ? Getting over excited like a teenager. You were impatient to see the kitten, you hoped it was in a better shape than the last time you saw it. You were also impatient to see Minho. Where you having a crush ?… Uh. Definitely. The ringtone of your phone startled you.

| minho: yo y/n ! you up ?

You hastily took the phone and answered.

| you: yup! Slept well ?

| minho: woaaa, you answered faster than usual. can’t wait to see kitty cat ?

His comment made you blush a little. Thank god he wasn’t there or he would have teased you for that.

| you: yes :( it’s like my baby

| minho: i understand, felt the same for my sons. ok, let’s meet at the association then, see you

At 10am, you were more than ready to go and arrived even a bit in advance. Now that it was broad daylight, you could see many dogs behind the fences, enjoying their time outside. Some people were there to adopt some of the animals, others were probably caretakers. You were absorbed by the scenery, when you felt that weird feeling telling you someone was watching you. When you turned around, a smily Minho was there.

« You truly are impatient to see the cat » he said while walking up to you.

« What about it ? Are you jealous I don’t give you the same attention ? » you teased. « Hmm, maybe ». He passed next to you as you were stunned by his words. Quickly coming back to your senses you followed him inside.

You were welcomed by two women and one of them seemed to know the brown haired man pretty well.

« Minho! It’s good to see you! How is the café going ? Are your parents fine ? And your cats ? » she asked with a soothing voice. She was middle-aged and exhaled literal kindness, the type of perfect mom you see in series. « Everything is going great, thank you so much. I came with my friend to see the kitten I brought early this week ». He stepped aside so he could properly introduce you to the women. « Oh my! You’re the lady who saved this baby. Thank you for your help, I can’t imagine what would have happened to it if you didn’t help it… » she shook her head, picturing the worst. « Come, I will bring you to it » the woman gestured for you to go with her, which you did.

You entered a room which probably was a nursery. Lots of kitten were sleeping or playing together but, as soon as your eyes landed on its white and orange fur, you could tell that it was your cat. You gasped and repeatedly tapped on Minho’s arm. He sighed at your behavior but he was truly amused by it.

« Can I go see it ? » you politely ask to the worker. « Of course! Be careful of the other ones, they might want to climb on you » she prevented. And she was right. As soon as you crouched down, some of the cats hide behind the cat trees or boxes, while some others were really curious. They were sniffing your clothes, trying to climb on your legs and you decided to sit down so you could be more stable. Unfortunately, the rescued kitten seemed too scared to come close.

Your friend joined you and tried to lure the cat with a toy. Moving it close to it, the colored feathers of the stick seemed to catch its attention. You could see its pupils getting rounder, its small body ready to jump and lightly wiggling. It attacked the toy and did it again.

« What are you doing ? » you asked when Minho started to move the feathers closer to you. « Shh, just trust me ». You weren’t so sure of his tactics until it paid off. The cotton ball was happily playing with the toy on your legs, biting its feathers and trying to catch it with its claws. You heart melted at the view of it. It had gained weight since the last time you saw it, you could tell that it was happy and healthy. « It truly worked! ». Your friend looked at you with a smug face and leaned towards you. You felt his fingers brushing over yours, chill going down your spine and it created an eye contact. You were both staring at each other, Minho’s gaze trailing along your face features until he quickly removed his hand. « S-sorry, I didn’t realize we were that closed » he apologized with a sheepish look. « It’s fine! » you almost squeaked that sentence and swore in your mind for being so easy to read. The brown haired boy acted as if nothing happened, still playing with the kitten. However, his ears betrayed him once again because of their bright red color.

You kept playing a bit more with the cats before you had to go back home.

You both thanked the workers and told them you would come back soon.

Once outside, you stretched and sighed in content. « Fuzzy seems happy ! Did you see how playful it is ? It was adorable ! » you were toddling gently and humming.

« Fuzzy ? » you friend raised an eyebrow. « Yes, the kitten. » you replied. « That’s plain as fuck. » he deadpanned. « Did I ask ? » you turned around to face him with challenging eyes. « Maybe you should have ».

Your faces were now so close that you could feel his breath on your cheeks. Heart racing, palms getting moist and you still couldn’t look away, totally captivated by his gaze. Oh, you looked gorgeous to him and the contact you made earlier this day made his stomach tingle in the most delicious way. Too busy looking at Fuzzy, you didn’t even notice how Minho gave you all his attention, how he loved seeing all your facial expressions, how he loved your laugh, your face, your curves. He was getting greedy. Greedy to be part of your life and be able to be just as close as you were right now or even more.

You gulped and created a diversion. « Here. Your umbrella ! I forgot to give it back to you last time ».

Minho looked at it and took it, brushing your hand in the process. The shivers were back. « Thanks Y/N, glad it helped you. But you still owe me. »

« What ? I paid for last time dinner ! » you protested, crossing your arms in front of your chest. A mischievous smile was adorning the man’s face. « A bit weak for someone who saved your kitten and gave you his umbrella. ». He was expecting and, gullible, you fell into his trap.

« Hmph. What do you want from me Lee Minho ? » you asked, suspicious. « I’m going to think about it. » he then headed towards the bus stop you previously used. Running after him, you called his name but he wasn’t answering. He didn’t want to break the game he was putting in place.

✧✧✧

Days went by and you still didn’t know what he wanted. He teased you a lot about it, saying you had to be kind and obedient until he would find out. Except, that you weren’t.

You grew to know each other more deeply, you crush for him getting stronger and often came to visit him to spend time together such as: visiting your furry friend or just wondering around the city after work. This evening was no exception to the rule as you were walking along the river.

« I’m still waiting for my penalty ».

« A penalty ? » he sneered « You mean the price of your debt, right ? ». You sticked your tongue out and nudged him. « Come on. There must be something. »

Minho stopped and you bumped into him. « What the… »

« There is something. » he announced. You rubbed your lightly bruised nose and asked « Spill it! Why are you being so secretive ? ».

« You would grant me anything ? » his face was totally serious and you didn’t know if you had to laugh or be scared right now. « If by granting, you mean being your servant for the rest of my life, that’s an absolute no ». He broke into a smile before answering « No, silly. It’s something else. »

« Just say it, Minho ! » you sighed. « Is a kiss too much ? », his voice was soft and he tried to keep his composure despite his heart beating so hard he was afraid you could hear it. You felt your blood rushing to your cheeks. Did you hear that well ? You were used to his jokes and you could tell when he wasn’t playing. And he wasn’t. Too startled to speak, you simply nodded, holding your breath in anticipation. Minho stepped closer, a brand new glow shining in his beautiful eyes. His hand traveled to cup your face, his gaze glued to your lips. « I need an answer, Y/N. Is a kiss too much ? ». You whined. Why was he like this ? « Kiss me already, Lee Minho. » He tenderly smirked and closed the gap between you. He first kissed your cheeks as you were putting your arms around his waist. He then went to the corner of your mouth, teasing you till the last second before you could fully feel his lips on yours. It felt warm and soft, just like taking a nap in a sunny room or savoring the sweetest delicacy.

You pushed your body against his and deepened your kiss. You would never get tired of this and you could feel the emotions, that you diligently took care of, were fully blooming into your stomach. You both stopped to catch your breath, Minho still cupping your face, his forehead resting against yours. You felt at peace with him. « You’re a good kisser Y/N Y/L/N» he stated, brushing his nose with yours. « What made you even doubt of it ? ». He laughed and laced his fingers with yours. « Let’s head home ».

During the way back, you both couldn’t stop looking at each other, smiling like idiots and kissing from time to time. You loved it, feeling like you were falling in love for the first time again.

« Here we are », Minho had walked you home and was about to part way when you held him back, grabbing his jacket. « Do you want to s-sleep here ? » you offered. His eyes widened a bit but his actions spoke for himself when he entered your apartment, a tender smile on his face.

✧✧✧

The next day, your eyes were welcomed by a sleepy Minho next to you. You caressed his bare back before preparing breakfast. You didn’t have much at your house and tried to make it as good as possible. When he woke up, his hair were all messy and he was walking with his eyes half-closed. « Morning » he said with a raspy voice. « Hi ». Wow. How did you manage to pull a man like him and be able to call him yours ? Wait. Was he even yours ? You didn’t clearly talk about your feelings or what you wanted to do next. Realization made you a bit gloomy but it was soon soothed by Minho’s kiss on the top of your head.

« Are we going to see Fuzzy today ? » he asked.

« Yes and… You know what ? I’m going to adopt it. » you were determined. After all, you had created a special bond with this cat since day one and it was thank to that very same cat that you met this amazing boy. « It’s about time ! » he sarcastically answered.

« But, before we go, I will have to go home and change. » the brown haired man stood up and started to pack his things. « I can accompany you, if you want » you were about to follow him when he stopped you. « No take your time and meet me to Sondonri when you’re ready » another kiss, « Thank you for the breakfast. » and he left.

Two hours later, you were in front of the association and your boyfriend (?) was nowhere to be seen.

| you: where r u ?

| minho ♡: come inside

When you entered, Minho was talking to one of the worker at the front desk. He gently grabbed your hand before inviting you to tell your request.

« Good morning, I would like to adopt a kitten. »

« I guess it’s for the little male you kept visiting ? » the man asked, « One second please ». He was looking through the files of his computer when he started to frown. « I’m so sorry miss but it seems that it has been adopted earlier… ». You felt your heart sinking. « What ? Are you su-… ». You couldn’t finish your sentence that Minho let go your hand to join the middle-aged women you had seen multiple times. She was handing him a little ball of white and orange fur. Fuzzy ! You almost ran up to him, your vision getting blurry because of your tears. « Is… Is it the right cat ? » your throat was tight, waiting. « Yes and it’s all yours. I made the necessary steps before you arrived » he said, visibly satisfied by your reaction. Happy tears were rolling down your cheeks as you were patting the kitten’s head. Minho bowed a little and whispered « I like you, Y/N ». Half giggling, half crying, all you could say was « I thought you would never say it. ». He chuckled and softly hugged you, not to crush the small fluffy boy.

You could tell the the kitten had found his new home, just as you found one in Minho.

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corpsekiller · 2 years

Note

Thanks for the reply🥰I was thinking of a first night with Luca as a newly married couple. The reader could be a Shelby sister who was forced to marry him to stop the vendetta, so there’s a bit of bad blood between them and she’s scared I would hurt her, but he proves to be a gentleman.💖

𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 — 𝐥.𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐚

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. luca changretta x fem!reader (shelby!sister)

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. arranged marriage, nsfw! unprotected sex, oral (fem receiving), fingering, praise, it's quite soft compared to my usual style

𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖧𝖮𝖱'𝖲 𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤. i'm so sorry it took me this long to write yout request, my dear. i was quite busy with university and exams, but i hope you can enjoy this fic nonetheless. i tried to keep it soft, but still spicy and i had so much fun writing this despite the stress og my studies 🖤 (also bear with me, i don't speak italian and pulled the pet names from google)

𝖫𝖤𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖧. 1.840 words

MASTERLIST

“Don’t be scared.”

His hand ghosts over your spine and comes to rest on your shoulder blade, fingers carefully undoing the buttons of your wedding dress. The lace slips past your legs to the floor and the sight of the white silk pooling around your naked feet reminds you that now, you’re inevitably bound to none other than Luca Changretta, who has become your husband on this very day. Truthfully, you didn’t have a choice — you were meant to marry the leader of the Italian mob since the day your brother killed his father, shot him straight through the head without an ounce of hesitance and that bullet sealed your fate.

Tommy knew it would only be a matter of time until they’d return for the vengeful spill of Shelby blood. Still, it hurts how he barely considered your opinion when he arranged your marriage, a peace offering to prevent more unnecessary deaths in the streets of Birmingham, and sold you off to the Italians as if you were merely another figure on his chess board and not his sister.

That’s the curse of being a Shelby, isn’t it? The purpose of your existence is to sacrifice everything for your family without batting an eye and perhaps that’s why Tommy selected you as the bride - because you were tired of losing because you wanted to live your own life. Because you wanted more.

This is the price you pay.

“I know you’re afraid,” Luca murmurs as if he read your racing thoughts, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and gently grabbing your hands to help you step out of your gown. There’s a tenderness to his touch you didn’t expect to fund after all that has happened between your families, the hatred and the resentment that bonds the two of you, but even now, as he guides you to the bed and pushes you into the soft pillows, his grasp stays gentle. “I promise I’ll take good care of you, amore. Just because I have, well, a strong dislike for your brothers doesn’t mean I won’t treat you like a gentleman.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” you whisper, a blush on your cheeks. Your reply causes him to smile, a twitch of his lips that you would have surely missed if you didn’t watch him so closely. His movements resemble those of a predator lurking around his prey — slow, calculated, elegance in every step he takes as he approaches the bed and gently spreads your legs before settling between them.

Arching his eyebrow, he caresses the supple flesh of your thighs, unbothered by your undergarments still covering your most vulnerable parts. You’re grateful he’s taking it so slowly, easing you into this new relationship with much more delicacy than you had expected of the Italian mob.

“You worry too much, pretty girl,” he replies with a soft chuckle, an amused glint in his eyes as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your knickers, tugging on the flimsy fabric until it glides over the curve of your hips. Instinctively, you lift your legs to let him strip off the garment, though you can’t suppress a pleasant shudder when his gaze returns to your cunt, now exposed to his sight. His fingers trace the inside of your thighs, a mere brush against your folds that causes you to take a sharp inhale full of anticipation and much to your surprise, your body moves on its own to get closer to him.

“Let me take care of you, yeah?” His question is followed by his hands grabbing your knees to throw your legs over his broad shoulders as he once again comes to rest on his stomach, pulling you closer until you feel his breath against your cunt. “It would be a shame to neglect you on our wedding day, wouldn’t it? Especially when you look so beautiful, all spread out for me.”

His lips nibble on your skin and you whine quietly at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your flesh, not enough to hurt you, certainly leaving marks you’ll see tomorrow, and strangely, the thought of him claiming you in such a carnal and yet passionate way flusters you.

Maybe... maybe there’s even a chance of love.

You would have liked to indulge in that thought for a moment longer, though Luca’s teasing makes it hard for you to concentrate on anything else but his skilled mouth slowly trailing over the curve of our thigh to where you need him the most. The lack of stimulation frustrates you to no end and forces you, despite your wariness towards your new husband, to buck your hips in search of some friction he might allow you out of pity.

“Don’t be impatient,” he admonishes, though there’s a hint of a smile in his voice. His poorly disguised amusement brings a timid grin to your face and your heart flutters in your chest, somehow completely at ease with the enemy of your family in your bed. This marriage might change your life for the better, although you were preparing yourself for the worst since the day your brother told you he promised your hand to Luca. “I promise I’ll make you feel good, mia cara, but you have to be a good girl for me.”

His tongue darts out to drag over your cunt. A gasp leaves your lips and your toes curl in pleasure, legs already beginning to tremble as your husband repeats the action and places his arm over your stomach to keep you still. His lips find your clit, teasingly sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves to coax more sounds out of your throat, clearly unbothered by your hand that has found its way into his hair to tug him closer to your aching cunt.

Every fiber of you seems to be set ablaze, eyes fluttering close and fingers clawing at the sheets for support while Luca relishes in your pulsing heat as if you’re his last meal on death row.

And fuck, the noises he makes are absolutely filthy — you can hear him groan against your slick folds, nose dragging against your puffy clit while his tongue dips into your entrance. Slowly, carefully and then all at once. The sensation is foreign to you, but the pleasure his mouth brings you is delightful and your hips move on their own for more friction.

Another hand comes up to rest on your waist, harsher and more demanding than the other to hold you in place before it disappears to between your thighs again. You cry out, partly surprised, when he starts to circle your sensitive bud with the pad of his thumb, writhing and squirming under the electric jolts he sends through your entire body.

“You taste delicious,” he moans between your thighs. The vibrations of his low voice draw another whine from your lips, his name falling from your tongue like it’s the only word you have ever known. “Come on, amore... I think you can moan a little louder than this. We should let your brothers know how good I’m treating you, don’t you think?”

He doesn’t expect an answer from you, already knows you’re too far gone to reply in a manner that would be appropriate for a lady like you, though he finds himself enjoying the way your voice stutters and breaks as you attempt to give him a response. To no avail. Instead, a cry fills the room when he pushes two fingers inside you, slowly stretching you out until your head turns blank and all you can do is paw at the sheets and pull at the dark strands of his hair.

“God, you look so beautiful... You like this, hm?” He murmurs and licks his lips glistening with your juices, a satisfied grin pulling on the corners of his mouth. Oh, he’s so mean about it, asking you this question even though he knows you can barely speak, so condescending and charming that you mindlessly nod your head along his words. Because he’s right, you like it. “I know you do, pretty girl. You’ll take everything I give you, huh?”

The broken sob you let out when he curls his fingers against your sweet spot makes him groan between your shaking thighs, cock throbbing against the seam of his pants, the only garment he hasn’t gotten rid of yet, too eager to please you to care because your pleasure is the only thing on his mind at this moment. His tongue continues to flick over your swollen clit and heat rises in your core, an unforgiving force that grows with each thrust of his fingers inside your sopping cunt.

“Fuck! S’good, so fuckin’ good, Luca,” you keen, legs threatening to close tightly around his head. Your husband chuckles, a deep laugh causing you to blush at the obscene moans tumbling from your parted lips, but you’re unable to hold yourself back, not to mention keep yourself quiet. “Shit, I think I’m going to... I’m close!"

A gentle kiss is pressed to your pussy, then he lifts his chin from your pulsing cunt, digits still so deep inside of you as he crawls up to drag you into a kiss that is surprisingly sweet compared to his fingers fucking faster with every passing second. The drag of his tongue into your mouth lets you taste your own arousal, gets you so lost in the sensation of his lips against yours and suddenly, he’s curling his fingers just right, hits a spot that shots white-hot lightning through your core, and coaxes a sob of pleasure out of you.

“Come on, mia cara," he murmurs, entranced by the movements of your hips grinding down on his hands slotted tightly between your thighs. His fingers move relentlessly, keep prodding at that sensitive spot until your eyes cross and your nails dig into the mattress in desperation. “Cum for me, pretty girl. I promise I’ll give you the world if you cum on my fingers now.”

That’s all you need to fall over the edge. The wave of your orgasm crashes over you in a mind-shattering sensation of pleasure and warmth you have never experienced before, so overwhelming that you’re clinging to Luca’s bare chest to keep yourself grounded as you quiver beneath his body. You notice him whispering something to you, tender words of affection and praise you could almost hear if it weren’t for the blood rushing loudly in your ears, but it’s enough to make you feel comfortable and safe in his arms.

“Are you feeling alright, amore?” Luca quips after your tremors have subsided, smirking at your blissful expression. His nose brushes over your cheeks as he leans down to plant a kiss on the corner of your mouth, one hand cradling your face to take a better look at you. “I understand if you want to rest, though you should know that I’m not opposed to continuing this night just like this.”

#🔪— murderous desire #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #luca changretta x reader smut #luca changretta x you #luca changretta smut #luca changretta imagine #luca changretta x reader #luca changretta x shelby!sister #tommy shelby x sister reader

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silverflqmes · 9 months

Text

໒⦂ 𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒.

synopsis. in which you find yourself falling in love with the player behind the main character of the game you have been coded into.

genre. mild hurt + comfort

for @diorlumx <3

kenma kozume x gn!reader

a normal person wouldn’t believe it if they were suddenly told their life was etched into the very coding of the game, left in the hands of the person behind the screen. but that was reality — yours, and that of many others in your world.

you knew, you knew it all too well, as you were the exception.

why it had been you and not someone else, you were uncertain of, though.

part of you assumed something was wrong with you. that your file was corrupted or that a virus had found its way into your mind and consumed you wholly, allowing you privileges most do not possess.

however another side of you, thought it to be a gift, a blessing of knowledge.

for this love would not be possible, had it not been for the adulteration that allowed this interface between you and kenma kozume.

wheras your life was a singular branch to a great tree that was the story this simulation had created, the boy in front of you right now was none other than the player who controlled your fate with a series of clicks.

the protagonist of your tale.

one with an abundance of choices — each option more pleasant than the last, and yet.. it was you that he chose. the person who had captured his frigid heart and melted the ice away, layer by layer.

“y/n, i know we’re separated by reality.. but i just wanted you to know,” he paused, flushing a bit as his bangs fell over his visage. “that you are the reason i keep coming back to this game — why i keep holding off on finishing it.” he confessed, trailing his eyes back over to find you listening, offering him every ounce of your patience and attention.

he was almost certain any other person would have pushed for him to speak up — but you, you looked at him like he was your whole world. as though you’d waited a thousand years for him, and would wait a thousand more, just to hear the words fall naturally.

a smile lifted your lips as you picked his hands up in yours, squeezing them gently. “i wake up every morning hoping to find you again, kenma-san. wishing upon every star that litters the night sky to answer my dreams of truly being with you.” you answered softly, a bittersweet tone behind your words.

“how i wish i could cross the glass that sunders us from one another..” you finished in a mutter, lowering your gaze to the grassy expanse of the school courtyard. “but alas, fate is a cruel, wicked thing.”

the second year slid his hand underneath your cheek with great delicacy, as though you were made of porcelain. prone to shatter into a million different pieces if not handled with care. “fate is also a wonderful thing.. for allowing me the chance to meet you.” he reasoned quietly, urging you to lift your head and meet his loving gaze.

anyone who knew kenma outside of the protagonist character in front of you now would call him a joke for acting as he was.

to just about everyone, he was the hermit of nekoma high’s volleyball club — the unwilling setter thrust into said position by his childhood friend. but he was more than that, so much more.

kenma in love, displaying his true self, was the best version of himself. and he was right here, standing before you and slowly pouring that tentative heart out to you.

although the universe divided you both into reality and simulation, it was still kind enough to allow you one good, real thing. and that was the opportunity to meet again and again, even if an invisible wall separated you.

notes. i didn’t plan to add angst, but it just felt suited to build emotion.. anyway, i haven’t written much for kenma so i apologize if he is a bit ooc! i figured he would have a more vulnerable side if he’s in love yk? i hope you enjoyed though<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

#— ; 🏹 ) haikyuu fics.#— ; 🏹 ) nekoma.#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu!!#kenma x y/n #kenma x gender neutral reader #kenma x reader #kenma x you #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #haikyuu kenma #kenma fluff #haikyuu kozume #hq kenma #kozume x reader #haikyuu imagine

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her-penetrating-soul · 9 months

Text

━━━━━━⚘ᥫ᭡᭄∘˚დ━━━━━

🤍 ‿The only aphrodisiac I need is your voice hearing you speak my name, beckoning me to answer as you glare into the profoundness of my dark brown eyes. I feel goosebumps upon my skin. The sound of your voice murmured to me that you yearn for me. I willing reply to you, my loving horizon, that you're the question I've ever had about love. I use my moisten lips to tell the tale about us. Tracing every ounce of your shadow scape. For every centimeter of your loving fingertips, glide upon my vevetly skin. I'm cupping my face towards you as I let myself go within your hands, feeling your fingers guiding me to your fountain of passion. Those lips that every time I feel them pressed up against mine. I can't help but render myself into your chest. Nestled away where I long to stay forever. I can't lie their is something about you that has me coming back for more. Indulging in your delicacies of your rich, sweet, creamy decant. For their isn't any chocolatiter that can recreate the delicious taste I have of you bestowed upon my tongue. Needing more of you. Needing to be gulped deeply within you. For your the air I need to breathe. You've consumed me into you. Every single caress makes me arch into you. You're my addiction, like a drug that flows throughout my veins. I need you to function. I solely love how you feel when I'm entangled deeply within your embrace. I flow with you. I sway to your hymns. To the slightest touch of you. To your soft ravages that send me into a trance. Feeling our breaths escaping one another. Our bodies unfolded into one another. As if they're dancing upon my silky blush sheets. Feeling our bodies rubbing up against one another. The thrust of your body upon mine. Lost onto your eyes. Lost into your tongue being painted upon mine. Leaving me breathless. You've crawled deep into my oceanic soul. For our souls are one. I love how your body feels against another. I love it when you lure me into you, nibble upon my neck as my black hairlocks drape upon you. Our bodies subdued into one another into one Sonnet of Soul's.⁀🤍

Written August 24th, 2023

━━━━━━⚘ᥫ᭡᭄∘˚დ━━━━━━

#her penetrating soul #comsumed by you #i need you #couple #intimacy #romanticize #passion #your girl #you & i #couple hugging #soul on soul #kissing souls #soulful #soulful beauty #soulful love #soulful expressions #soulful sentiments #soulful moments

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k9wa · 2 years

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༉ 𝟒:𝟏𝟑 𝐏𝐌 ꒱ with hanemiya kazutora.

⠀— where kazutora is welcomed back into society.

the black metal of your car was practically cooking under the blazing sun, and warm against your skin as you leaned against the driver's side door. you were on the verge of boiling in the street, between the mix of the heat beating down on you externally, and the even hotter surge of suspense running through your nervous system internally.

you fidgeted with your hands, staring at the correctional facility across the street from you, and it felt like it was glaring back. like it was taunting you.

would things be the same once he got out? would you be able to go back to being a couple? sure, you visited him every time you were able, and you wrote letters and kept in touch, but you haven’t been…together, i mean really together, able to touch and see and talk to each other free of limits since you were teenagers.

you glanced down at the watch on your wrist, trying to find an angle where there wasn’t a blinding reflection on the glass.

4:13.

he’s almost 15 minutes late. you figured this wasn’t necessarily a speedy process, but were plagued by worry. had something happened?

a sudden sound, a loud buzzer from across the street was quick to shake the thoughts out of your head.

there he was, walking out of the iron gate, a small plastic bag of belongings clutch in his hand.

it was cliche, the way everything seemed to stop moving once you made eye contact, the way all you saw was each other.

he was right there, within your reach, he was nearly at the end of your fingertips.

you bolted across the street, leaving your parked car in line with all the others on the shoulder of the road. you didn’t bother to look both ways before your legs moved, causing kazutora to yell out a frantic ‘careful, careful!!’

the moment your feet touched the parallel sidewalk, he moved forward to meet you as you just about leapt into his arms, he was there to catch you.

it couldn’t be deciphered who was holding who. the grips you had on one another was vice, and even while falling victim to the humid weather, was so comfortably warm.

kazutora inhaled you, your new scents, rubbed his thumbs along the soft skin of your waist, relished in the feeling of your cheek against his, and in this moment it all caught up with him that god, he missed you so much. he’s subconsciously lifting you off the ground, pulling you as close as he can get you and you let him, as you too are soaking up every ounce of him in the moment.

kazutora sets you down, hesitant to pull away, but it's quickly washed when he’s able to get a clear look at your face. you’re crying, he’s quick to wipe away the tears with his palm.

“….hi.” hanemiya is still in a daze, he doesn’t know what else to say. the simple greeting is enough to make you laugh through your tears, and your smile makes kazutora’s heart clench in his chest.

“hi.” your hands find their way back around his neck, your thumbs running along the curve of his jaw, as if touching him was helping you to convince yourself he was really there, in the palms of yours hands.

kazutora looked at you with such awe. it had been so long since he’d seen you up close, a gleaming smile, the glow of the sun on your skin. his hands moved to hold your face with such delicacy, as if he was holding glass. he became teary eyed himself at the way you nestled into his hold.

“you’re–” the words catch in your throat. “you’re out. you’re out oh my god.”

you brush some hair out of his face, moving it behind his ear. kazutora nods his head, pulling you back into his arms, head back safely in the crook of your neck where it belongs.

“i'm out.”

⠀ master. ꒱ send me an ask!

#good morning kazutora nation #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora tokyo revengers #hanemiya kazutora #kazutora x reader #kazutora x you #kazutora x y/n #kazutora fluff #kazutora scenarios #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev imagine #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers hcs #tokyo rev x you #tokyo rev fluff #UNEARTHLY

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bllk-after-dark · 1 year

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ardent hunger.

pairing. reo mikage x afab!reader

content warnings. afab reader, no pronouns/gendered petnames, cunnilingus, dirty talk, biting, praise kink, teasing, switch dynamics, hair pulling

As a wonderful consequence of a life amongst the corporate elite, Reo Mikage knows just how to savour every part of you that you have to offer.

Face buried deep between your thighs, every single pass and swipe of his tongue against your cunt feels like heaven. You are a delicacy, a luxury, a ripe summer fruit that drips so sweetly along his chin whilst he devours you.

His fingers press into the soft flesh near your ass, desperate to feel as much of you as he can, to covet and adore you with each and every ounce of his being. Your fingers are laced tight into his hair to guide him as you thrust against his hot mouth, eliciting devout moans that resonate against your clit and spark stars behind your eyes.

“Such a good boy,” you hum mindlessly, and he revels in your praise.

It is incentivising, enticing him to bury his tongue deeper, to press the full flat of the wet hot muscle across your pussy and eat you out with renewed vigour, to do his best to please you so that he may hear those sweet words of affirmation tumble from you once more.

“You’re so eager tonight, Mikage,” you taunt, entirely aware of how much he despises your use of his family name. “Was I not paying enough attention to you over dinner? You know I like to let you sort those negotiations out for yourself, they’re so boring to me.”

He nips at your thigh in defiance, a teasing bite, the skin stinging lightly as he presses an open-mouthed kiss against it after. “They’d be less boring if you spoke more, dear. You’d put those stuffy old men to shame.” Another kiss, closer to your cunt this time. You moan and he smiles, a final kiss to your clit while you writhe under him. “Besides, you have such a pretty voice.”

“I don’t think- “ you gasp reverently as his tongue slips between your folds one more, nose pressing into your clit- “that they’d appreciate these sorts of sounds.”

Reo does no more than hum in acknowledgement of your words as your fists curl against the sheets, bundling the fabric tight between your knuckles.

Your taste is enthralling, addictive- how could he not be eager to consume as much of you as he can? Especially when you are so responsive to his touch, alight below his fingertips.

Hands against his head once more, pulling gently at his hair, thrusting wantonly against his mouth as your orgasm approaches, you still twitch and keen everywhere his own hands roam. From your thighs, up your stomach, caressing along the curve of your chest and all the way back again, Reo simply has to feel you whilst you come undone for him.

He is desperate for your release, perhaps even moreso than you are yourself. One hand returns to your clit to stimulate it alongside his mouth and the salacious whine that slips from you has him close to cumming completely untouched.

Pressed into the bedsheets, his cock is hard and leaking, the friction from rubbing against the bed barely enough to stimulate him the way that he needs. But his own release isn’t important as your movements become deeper, frantic, quiet utterances of “fuck, Reo, I’m close,” falling past your lips and rolling in rivulets down to the dip of your collarbone.

You press up on your forearms to look at him and Reo can do no more than smile up at the blissed-out look in your eyes as your orgasm washes over you, lips parted and glossy in the gently twinkling ceiling lights. He always thinks you are at your prettiest in the hazy glow of your comedown, chest rising and falling with every soft pant, the overwhelming adoration in your eyes when you look at him.

But he's not done yet.

There is one thing that Reo knows above all else as a result of his upbringing, something as integral to the working heart of an entrepreneurial system as oxygen itself.

The importance of return investments.

ven. dear god finally i wrote smth it was abt time LMAO

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #mikage reo x reader #mikage reo x you #mikage reo imagines #↝ ven 🌹

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darklydeliciousdesires · 4 months

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London Will Burn - Chapter Ten.

Sorry it's a day late, bambinos! Normal posting schedule will resume as of Friday. I wanted to give everyone the chance to catch up since I posted last week's instalment late, too.

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine

Tag list - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 4,000

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI.

Absorbing the shock, it was all Sean could do not to storm over to where Rin and her family were gathered and demand she give him answers. It added up, undoubted was the maths in the equation that the child with eyes that exactly matched his own, who would have been about six, meaning she’d been conceived on that weekend he’d spent with her, was in fact his daughter. It fitted. It explained why she’d vanished.

Why the fuck had she kept it from him?

Why the fuck did she still continue to keep it from him?

He knew why, but his anger got in the way of logic. The only thing to penetrate it was the sudden feeling of a wet nose at his fingertips, followed by a familiar miffed grunt. Looking down, he saw Butch, ball in mouth, ready for it to be thrown once more.

As the rage in him subsided, a myriad of emotions began to swirl, taking the ball and throwing it once more, finally tearing his eyes away from the child, dressed in her school uniform beneath a thick, winter coat. His child. He dropped his head and sped up while walking past where they were congregated, hoping the distance from one side of the path over to the small playground area meant he wouldn’t be seen.

That did not mean, however, that this would be something he’d easily let go of. Rin would feel every ounce of his ire, once she’d actually confirmed to him if the child was definitely his.

Setting off over the grass to meet his dog en route back, he took the ball and clipped Butch back onto his lead, being greeted by a look of indignance that playtime was seemingly over. “I am certain that fucking tooth of yours sticks out even further when you’re pissed off.” he spoke, reaching to scratch his forehead wrinkles. “If I sported a snaggletooth, mine probably would be right now, too.”

He took the long walk back to his car, loading Butch in the rear and clipping his seatbelt fastener onto the back of his harness, the dog lying down with a soft snort. The comfy ride of the Audi Q5 meant he was asleep ten minutes into the journey home, only stirring when half an hour after that, the car pulled up in the parking garage back in Canary Wharf.

For the duration of the drive, he’d mulled over how to handle the sight he’d been presented with at the park, wanting to actually make the right choice for once. Good choices and Sean Wallace didn’t always go hand in hand. In fact, more often than not, his impulsive nature dictated that they were the furthest from good.

“Catherine, I need to speak with you. Would you be free for lunch on Friday?”

Civil, to the point, adult like. He was proud of himself. While waiting on a reply, he took a shower, sorting Butch his food before ordering the usual Thai delicacies to satiate his own hunger.

“I’m busy.”

“Next Monday, perhaps?”

“Busy then, too.”

“Any fucking time before Easter, Catherine?” Trust Sean to not take her rebuffing well.

“Can you not just call me to have this discussion?”

“No. It must be face to face.”

It was while he was mid-way through eating a Thai red curry when she finally replied. “I’ll check my diary when I have a moment and get back to you.”

He waited a week for her to do this alleged diary consulting, hearing nothing. The proverbial bull appeared to need taking by the horns, it would seem.

The gates to Mulford Hall’s private driveway still required a check in with security, but the large, middle-aged man who had sat within the small booth the last time Sean had pulled up beside it was now replace by another. A large, Kenyan other, to be exact.

“And you are?” he rumbled, lifting his chin.

“Sean Wallace, here to see Miss Cavanagh.”

The man reached for the telephone, eyes flitting over Sean. “I’ll be the judge of that.” Pressing a button, he waited, leaning back while letting his fingers skim over the semi-automatic holstered at his hip, dark eyes returning to Sean for a second and narrowing. “Boss, hello. I got a Sean Wallace here to see you.”

There was a pause. “She say you must wait for her call and to go home.”

“Tell her that unless she lets me up, I shall start making noise over the identity of her child’s father. Loud noise.”

Marcus relayed the message with a huff, waiting. “Okay, you may go up.”

He smirked, shifting the car into drive as the gates began to slowly open. “I thought she might say that.” Driving through, he reminded himself over and over to keep calm, that losing his temper was the last thing he should resort to, that no matter how enraged he was, calmness was the more conducive approach.

Pulling into the courtyard, he saw Rin exit the house and stride over to the car. The defiance she carried herself with immediately sent his irritation up by a few notches.

“I think we need to talk,” he began, getting out and shutting the door with a heavy clunk, turning to face her. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“How did you even find out?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes. “Who the hell told you?”

“Nobody, I saw you both in the park just over a week ago. She looked right at me, and it was my eyes I saw. Doing the calculations over her age, and it points a very definite finger to the fact that I’m her father. If I hadn’t, your lack of a poker face and need to discover if you’ve been betrayed just sealed it nicely for me.”

The sneer in his tone set her on edge, Rin wanting nothing more than to punch him in the face for it. For much more, in fact. Her nostrils flared in annoyance, Sean continuing. “Now, why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged, sniffing. “It was none of your business back then.”

His lips tightened, his shoulders squaring. “I fathered your child, that makes it very much my business.”

“Not when you were set to sell out her mother’s dignity for a business deal. Honestly, do you truly think I wanted a man like that near her at the time? Can you honestly blame me for keeping it from you?”

“Yes, I fucking can, because she’s my fucking daughter and I had a right to see her, to know her!” There went his cool, flying far from any tentative grasp.

Her features twisted, fury beginning to pulse. “You had no right at all, Sean! Not after what you did to me!”

“I had to, Catherine. By the end of that weekend, I didn’t want to, but I had to, because...”

“Because if you hadn’t, you’d have lost the capitol you needed to buy a new location to launder through, and the safe port for the fuck load of heroin that needed an alternative dock to port in. Yeah, I know why you had to. You could have just let me talk to him, you know. I’d have convinced him, but no.” Her eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. “You fucked me over because you wanted to. Get off on it, did you? Taking advantage of an eighteen-year-old, hmm?”

“Don’t give me that shit,” he spat angrily, cracking his knuckles in agitation. “You were far from naive. You were raised by a man just as cutthroat as the one whom raised me.”

Swallowing down her desire to match his anger, she took a breath, sniffing as she thinned her lips between her teeth. “My heart was.” Pausing, she saw it in his face, the very thing she was looking for, but had no real care over whether she received or not. Remorse. It was a few too many years late in the coming. “I suppose I should thank you really, for the lesson you taught me, one that I will pass onto my daughter when she’s older, too. Never let your emotions be swayed by a man who shows all the hallmarks of such deeply entrenched psychopathy.”

He looked accepting of her assessment, shame seeming to veil him as he looked down upon her, sighing sadly. “I am truly sorry for what I did to you. I am. It was a mistake that I haven’t ever not regretted.” He paused for a moment, in her silence of absorbing his apology. “She’s the reason, isn’t she? The other reason you returned me to my former status, the one you said I didn’t deserve to know, back when I first saw you again three months ago.”

“That’s correct,” she confirmed, “but on my terms. I want my daughter to know her father, but most certainly not the man who I watched you become from afar. God fucking knows, I’m probably bordering on mental myself, but I thought maybe, if I could sort you out in the midst of ironing out the fucking mess you and half the other fuckwits left London in, then maybe the old Sean might return. The Sean you might still be capable of being.”

He felt his chest tighten in an instant, that no matter how badly he’d hurt her, hurt himself, pulled apart the threads of his own life, she still had hope he could redeem himself. “Perhaps if I’d known about her, that might have come sooner. My priorities have always been centred around the health of my family. Surely you knew that?”

“I didn’t know what the fuck I knew about you, after that weekend, and then you turning on me!”

“I told you I didn’t want to.”

“But you did!” Her temper flared beyond her need or desire to control it, her jaw flexing as she ground her back teeth together, her fury literally biting. “You hurt me, Sean! I let you in, more than I ever had with actual boyfriends, and you fucking hurt me worse than anybody ever has! We could have been something, but you just threw it all the fuck away, didn’t you?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he turned away from her for a second. “I did. There isn’t a day that passes where I don’t regret that, either.”

“Why?” she scoffed, folding her arms. “It got you everything you wanted.”

He reached for her, thumb skimming her cheek. “And lost me something I truly needed.”

She felt her heart quicken, enjoying the comfort of his touch for a mere second before knocking his hand away. “Don’t. No. I’m off the table forever to you. Her? Maybe, if you continue to behave yourself.”

He nodded. “Do I at least get to know her name?”

“Tiger Lily.” Her favourite flower, he remembered. “We just call her Tiger for short mostly. Believe me, it suits her personality.”

He smiled at that, imagining her to be tiny and mighty, much like her mother. “When can I see her, Rin? I want to be there for her, provide for her. I have lost so much in the way of family, and the life I am attempting to rebuild very much has a place for her within it.”

His earnest softness stirred her, hearing his pledge to be involved in his daughter’s life, but not enough that she’d ease up on him. “When I see fit, and not a moment before.”

Indignance at being rebuffed rose within him, but he knew the more he demanded, the further she would dig her heels in. His continued commitment to not making bad choices borne of his impulsive nature had to be applied here, too. “Okay. I shall await you getting in contact, then.”

He turned to his car, Rin beginning to twitch in discomfort, resting her weight from foot to foot a couple of times as she swung her arms down from folded. “Sean?” He turned back, eyebrows slightly raised. “St James Park, 2pm next Sunday. We’ll meet you by the playground. You’re just my friend, though. You shan’t be revealed as her father until I decide.”

His mouth flickered, upturning. “Thank you.”

She had to give him something, she realised, no matter how much the scar tissue from his burns still ached within her chest. Since her reinstating him three months prior, he’d been flawless, utterly faultless in the way he had resurrected both himself and the Wallace Corporation. He deserved something, although as she walked back into the house, she wasn’t sure whether her lenience had been too swiftly delivered.

“I heard most of that from the window.” Her mother’s tone told a thousand more words than she actually spoke.

Rin sighed, moving to the fridge and pouring a vodka, feeling the weight of Sokoro’s hand press supportively to her shoulder. She paused, covering it with her own for a moment, leaning into his wide chest. “You handled it well, boss. I leave you with your mother now, it is not my place to be in a family talk.”

She smiled thinly, the Kenyan giant leaving the kitchen, Rin wishing he’d have stayed. “I take it you’re about to detail that I was wrong for allowing him to see her?”

“I’ll flippin’ say you were!” she began, one of the stools at the island being pulled out rapidly, the legs scraping across the floor. “Pour me a drink, too. I need it after that. You should have stuck to your guns and made him work for it a little harder. Then again you were never very competent in making that man work for anything, were you?”

A better relationship they might have had, but Diane still had her predisposition for making snide remarks. The point she was making was not lost upon Rin at all, who viewed her with incredulity as she turned with the vodka bottle, slamming the fridge shut as she paced to the cupboard containing the glasses. “I had sex with him, mum. Deal with it. I’m not as precious as you over the act of pleasure, and I never have been.”

“You might have avoided this whole fiasco if you were.”

Oh, she just couldn’t help herself. “And if I had, I wouldn’t have Tiger. I wouldn’t trade the outcome of me being careless over contraception for anything. Not even a better outcome. And to Sean’s credit, in the last few months he’s worked his arse off. The Wallace Corporation is in the process of three new builds, two more in the works. We’ve expanded construction to Birmingham and Manchester, too. For twelve weeks, that’s good going.”

“You’re going soft. I knew you would, as soon as you saw him again.”

Her grip upon the Stolichnaya bottle tightened, her lips pursing. “I have not gone soft. I want Tiger to know her father, and so far, he’s done a good job of proving himself to be capable of being just that; her father. Me? As you probably overheard, I am not a part of it. This was always my intention, mum. I want her to know him.”

Diane was nothing if not persistent in her stance. “But so soon? You really should have made him suffer for longer.”

Pouring the drinks, Rin returned the bottle to the fridge, adding ice and pushing a glass across the counter to her mother. “Just because I am allowing him limited access to his daughter does not mean I am softening. It is still my proverbial boot upon his neck, still my line he toes, still my weight he operates beneath. He shan’t ever forget that either.”

Diane sniffed, raising both her eyebrows and glass. “Just as long as he never does, Catherine.” She departed the kitchen, leaving Rin standing there for a second before the weight of it all bore down, flopping onto the shiny, lemon disinfectant-scented marble with a sigh. The next weight she felt was of two warm hands grasping her shoulders, kneading softly.

“Am I being too soft, Sok? Is she right, or is she being a huge shit bag?” She didn’t think her right hand would have moved too far away.

“Hey, hey,” he chided softly, pulling her up to stand straight, “she is still your mother, eh?”

She sighed. “I know, but is she?”

“You know as well as my boss, you are my close friend too, eh?”

She smiled. “I do.”

“And you know I always tell you how it is, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You could have made white man squirm for a little longer, eh, but I understand why you did not. You know how it is to be without a father, and you do not want that for little Tiger. You do this for her, I see. Not for him.”

At least Sokoro understood where she was coming from. “Thank you, for seeing things how they are.”

His eyes narrowed a tiny fraction, the corner of his mouth tugging up. “Maybe a little for him, no?”

“No.”

“Sure?”

She avoided his dark eyes, taking a gulp of the chilled, neat vodka. “Definitely not.”

He had the respect to leave it there, but he knew. “Do you want me to come with you to this meet, eh?”

“Yes. Wait in the car for us though, so you’re nearby but not looming over us.”

He nodded. “Understood, boss. Now, my stomach is rumbling, eh! Where is the chef? I would like to be fed now, yes.”

He was getting very used to a life with people to do things for him, her dear Sokoro. Back at home, he happily pitched in to assist (or hamper) Anna, his wife of nine years, a German backpacker who had arrived in Kenya and then never left after meeting him. They lived in a house upon the reserve, Anna’s background in zoology meaning she was a perfect choice to work with the animals there, working her way up to managing the breeding program. She had called only five hours ago to joyfully inform Rin that the four pregnant lionesses had all birthed a healthy litter of cubs the night before.

Stretching her arms out to ease the residual tension of the last twenty minutes, Rin walked to the phone, calling for Roger to come down and begin preparing their dinner. After eating a delicious meal of griddled salmon and vegetables (and chicken for Tiger, who couldn’t stand that particular fish) she saw to bathing and dressing her daughter ready for bed, heading back downstairs to her office.

It had once been her father’s, the space now drastically changed from how it had looked before. She had intended to keep it exactly how it was, but it proved much too painful, to see such reminders of him everywhere. The solid oak and dark red walls had been replaced for pastel green, bird and floral print wallpaper, and white and light oak furniture, giving the space an airy feel.

Her father often liked to intimidate with decoration, the oppressiveness of the office very much in keeping with his personality. She used to coin it the belly of the dragon for good reason.

Taking a seat at her desk, she jiggled the mouse until her computer came out of standby, ready to continue organising her current project. She was arranging a charity dinner in aid of her wildlife reserve, one of those very fancy, three hundred pounds a head affairs in aid of raising money for the African wildlife she now solely presided over, despite no longer living out in Africa.

Of course, with Rin, there was another goal. The funds derived from the night’s hopefully generous contributions from London’s elite would be matched with injections of cash needing to be laundered. It made sense, since the CWR (Cavanagh Wildlife Reserve) was a charity, for all intents and purposes. The deals she was in the process of making with people in South America needed a fund to be run through, her reserve being the chosen destination.

After completing the guest list of a total of two hundred and seventy-three people, she sent the details to the printing firm to send out invitations, knowing most of her associates were such old school types, a well-appointed, neatly printed invitation arriving by post would be more appreciated than the more modern method of an e-invite.

Once done, she poured herself another drink, sitting back and resting her bare feet up on the desk, getting a small pang of annoyance when remembering her mother’s earlier words. “Then again you were never very competent in making that man work for anything, were you?”

“Slut shaming. So very you, mother darling.” Oh, how she’d really, really come down hard on her at the time, Rin remembered, when she’d revealed the news of her pregnancy to her and her father. They both had, Rin not knowing which way to turn, having her usually on side, protective father roaring in utter outrage at how she could be so stupid.

“You fucking open your legs to that scumbag in the first place, and then don’t have any bloody sense to use protection? Fucking hell, Catherine! I thought we raised you with more brains than that, girl, I really did!”

They had, too. In the midst of dealing with the heartbreak of his betrayal, obtaining the morning after pill had been the farthest thing from her mind. So far, in fact, that it wasn’t until her period didn’t arrive that it smacked her square in the chest, what she had forgotten to do in the aftermath of a weekend being shagged ragged by the man of her dreams.

Remembering it, him, the way his skin felt against hers, the heat of their connection, the fact that she hadn’t ever, or since felt a dick as perfect as his, she let herself be transported back to each moment he’d ever been inside her, just for a few seconds. God, the way that man fucked. He was unlike all others, and she hated him for it.

Coming back out from where her daydream had led her, she tried to shake the thoughts of Sean from her mind, but they clung on. Sleeping in his arms, chasing him around the house with a bow and arrow as they’d laughed. She’d never heard him laugh like that, and it made her chest flutter still.

“Bastard.”

Switching off her computer, she tidied her desk, finishing her drink. She’d be up at five in the morning to go for her usual six-mile run, Rin loathing any form of gymnasium-based exercise, but loving to pound her feet to the terrain in order to stay in shape. An early night was definitely in order.

Her childhood bedroom was still her destination, although changed in decoration from pale yellow to a pastel blue, the furniture remaining the same but furnishings a little more befitting of a grown woman. After cleansing her face and brushing her teeth, she crawled beneath the duvet, closing her eyes. Falling into dreams, she was eighteen again, her bed occupied by the man whom she’d tried in vain to cease thinking about, lying with her head on his chest as they’d talked. Well, talked, and...

“You’re going to make it fall off, you know,” he’d told her, eyeing his cock after she’d begun playing with it again.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she’d purred, moving to sit astride him, kissing the centre of his chest. “It isn’t going anywhere, other than back inside me. I think I make it very happy.”

The way he’d looked at her, pulling her into a kiss, his gaze had told her strongly that it wasn’t just his cock that she made happy.

Waking with a start, she grumbled with agitation.

“Get out of my head, you fucking twat.”

It had been seven years. If he hadn’t left it by then, then much to her indignation, she had to admit he likely never would.

#sean wallace fanfiction #sean wallace smut #gangs of london fanfiction #gangs of london #sean wallace x ofc #sean wallace fanfic #sean wallace fic #joe cole #london will burn #sean and rin #gangs of london fanfic #gangs of london fic

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