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ichangedmycornyahhname · 1 year

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Earth 42!Miles x Reader

The buzzing of the drill was soon drowned out by the shattering glass.

Summary: After a talk with Miles, reader finds herself at the nail salon. She was treating herself, just as he had requested. But that self care day soon turns into much more. Part 1. Here

Warnings: A little angst? Violence | Cursing | Some spice I suppose. | I’m gonna warn y’all now, I do not speak Spanish fluently at all, so if anything is wrong grammatically please correct me. | I’m actually thinking of making this into a mini series? Maybe a part. 3 after this. Also! Open to some title ideas.

Miles kept his promise. He sent her money to get her nails done. Which is why now she sat in her usual salon, her friend Roxanne drilling at her nails. The salon was hidden deep within the city, a little hole in the wall. With New York in shambles, people had to find some sort of way to feel normal. “What design are we doing this time Y/N? Freestyle again?” Y/N shook her head at her pink haired friend, causing her Roxy to smirk. “Oh, I see. What’s the idea then?”

“Was thinking of doing purple and black. Maybe a little green.” Those were Miles signature colors. His prowler costume consisted of different shades of purple and black, and she was sure her friend could come up with something good. “Hm, that’s new. Alright whatever you say.” Roxy gave a fond smile before getting to work. As she did so, Y/N found herself pondering on what to do after getting her nails done. Maybe go get some food, check on a few friends, avoid the crooks on every street. Possibly invite Miles over for a late night rendezvous. She sighed at the thought. She was completely smitten with the guy.

As time went by, and Roxy made quick progress, a low rumble began to stir beneath their feet. Followed by the loud roar of an engine. She traded a look with Roxy, who had a brow raised in suspicion. “You feel that too?” She questioned as the drill buzzed just above Y/Ns nail. “Yeah, what the hell is that?” She replied to the woman with dyed hair. It wasn’t just the two who noticed. Most people within the nail salon glanced around, concerned and confused by the sudden rumbling. The same rumbling that suddenly stopped. “Maybe it’s construction.” Roxy chimed, doing her best to stay optimistic. Then she got right back to work. The drill buzzed, shaving down the black base of the nail. “What’s got you so preppy? You still with that guy?” Y/N flushed at the question, her gaze averting from Roxy’s. “Yeah, we’re still together. He’s a really good guy, just really busy.” She fawned. “That’s good, glad you’re doing well girl. Was getting worried about you after the whole..” Roxy’s voice trailed off, and Y/N took this as a chance to cut in, “I’m fine Rox, he makes me feel happy. I promise.” She gave her a look of confirmation and Roxanne only nodded.

The atmosphere of the salon was pleasant, relaxing. She found herself spacing out, her eyes focusing in on nothing too important while she lightly bopped her head to the music playing in the background. Then the rumbling returned, and much louder this time around. It sounded close, too close for comfort. Following the noise, her eyes landed on an incoming cop car. She could barely make out the sparking metal of the rim where the missing tire was before the car skidded onto the it’s side and tumbled into the big front window of the salon. The crashing of glass filled the shop, along with the blaring siren and tumbling debris. Y/N ducked down at the sight of the crash, pulling Roxy along with her as the broken down car came to a slow stop in the middle of the salon.

Amidst the carnage, she could faintly make out the crumpled figure of a cop within the drivers seat. She had no clue who the guy was. In fact, she had no clue what was even going on. All she knew was the salon was in utter ruins, and the car was spilling oil into a large puddle beneath it. She felt overwhelmed by the sight. By the sirens ringing in her ears, by the smoke rising from the cars engine. “Holy fuck..Rox we gotta get out of here!” She half whispered half shouted. Her hand found Roxy’s, giving it a light tug as she led the shell shocked woman to the wide opening left by the car. “Hurry up girl..! I’m not trying to die here..” She almost hissed. As they made their way past the wrecked car, the smoke from the debris and vehicle flooded their lungs. Roxy began to cough, heavy and intense. This would’ve caught her attention if the incoming villain didn’t. He was large, bulky, and clad in dark angular armor. His aura oozed superiority, while his hardly visible eyes were stuck on the cop unconscious in the car. It would seem the armored man had a target. With this new found knowledge (assumption), she made haste towards the exit, somehow managing to slither out without catching the attention of the man in armor. “Rox..we gotta get out of here man. Before that big dude spots us..” She muttered as they hid behind large pieces of debris. Her eyes took a glance over the fallen pieces of building, the sight of the man approaching the car bringing a sort of relief to her. “What are you talking about Y/N? We can’t leave that cop in there. That guy will kill him..!” Y/Ns jaw slacked, shocked by her friends desire to rush into danger. “The hell are you talking about? We’ll be squashed like bugs if we go in there..” She found Roxy’s arm, and have it a harsh squeeze as she tried to get the woman to stay back. Though it would seem to be pointless. Roxy was already slipping away and sneaking her way back into the building.

Y/Ns hands found her hair. Her fingers tugged at the root as she watched frantically as her friend entered the building once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do. I can’t fight that dude he’s fucking huge..and I’ll be caught if I-“ She paused mid sentence as she came to a realization. And soon she was dialing Miles’ number, hoping that the fool would answer his phone.

“Please pick up..please..fuck.” Click, “Yeah, what’s up ma?”

“Oh thank fuck-“ A breath of relief left her now chapped lips, she had never been so thankful to hear his voice. “Miles, baby, you need to come quick!.. I was getting my nails done and then a cop car bursted through the damn window..now some big armor dude is about to kill him and my friend is trying to be a hero tryna save him..” Her words were quick, breathy, and frantic. And Miles immediately took notice of this. “Im..im at my usual place. Need you to hurry.” She whispered into the phone as she attempted to peek over to the scene that was unfolding.

“I’m on my way now.” Was all she received from her boyfriend. She wanted to respond, truly. But her tongue was tied, and her friend was about to be fighting for her life. Roxy had managed to get the cop out of the car, now dragging him out as quickly as she could, slippery streams of oil leaving a trail behind. “Cmon Rox..” She had long forgotten about her phone, and found herself at a crossroads. Should she help, be the good person she was raised to be? Or should she sit there and do nothing? She gulped, her hand visibly shaking around her phone as she mentally began to hype herself up. She had no clue what the rhino was doing this in the middle of the day, or any clue why he was only after the cop. But what she did know was that her friend was in danger. “Y/N? What’re you about to do?” She heard from the other side of the line. However, she didn’t reply. Instead she rushed over, still crouched down behind rubble as she made her way inside. “Rox! Rox..cmon grab his heavy ass and let’s get the hell out of here.” She cursed out as she found the man’s arm and tugged him away from the car, he was much more heavy than she had anticipated. “Thank you Y/N.” Roxy replied before tugging at the cops other arm. They worked to pull him out as quickly as possible, but the rhino took notice of this. His hard glare turned deadly, and he visibly uttered something inaudible to the panicking woman. “Hurry! Hurry!”

He growled, his head lowering as he changed positions. At first, she wasn’t sure what he was doing, and then she realized. He was charging, at them.

She dropped the cops arm and attempted to pull Roxanne off of the cop, her movements quick and frantic. And she almost budged, but it would seem as though shock had gotten to her, her grip unbreakable. “Roxy cmon!” She screamed, shrill with panic. They were going to die. They were going to die in a broke down nail salon because her friend wanted to save a cop. Y/Ns eyes slammed shut as she waited for the inevitable. Her breath caught in her throat at the incoming impact, but it never came. Instead the crash of another vehicle caused her ears to ring, followed by large hands shaking her out of her fear. “Hey. Hey you okay? Talk to me!” Her eyes shot open, her hands coming up to wrap around the figures wrists. “M- Mil- prowler.” She was absolutely relieved to see him, to hear that robotic filter on his voice as she stared at his mask. “I’m..okay..where’s uhm.” She took a moment, swallowing as she gathered herself. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, and her body was shaking with unease. She swallowed, spit wetting her dry mouth. Quickly she collected herself. “Roxy, where’s Roxy? And that cop?”

“They’re fine, but we gotta go before that dude wakes up. Cmon.” He said as he turned around and pulled her onto his back. She didn’t bother arguing, she didn’t have the energy. Somehow, Miles managed to drag all three of them out of the crash sight and far enough out of harms way. It was a dingy alley way, trash and other none-sense tossed around. Y/N was still resting on his back, her cheek pressed against his shoulder as her arms wrapped around his neck. “Thought I was gonna die back there.” She uttered the words, but he heard them loud and clear. “Nah, I would never let that happen. You know that mami. I called the cops for your friend and that man. You’re coming home with me.” He wasn’t asking, he was telling, and she was perfectly fine with that.

Miles slipped into his apartment through the window, and trudged inside. He tossed his metal gauntlet onto the floor, his hands free to lay her onto his bed. The plush mattress underneath her body managing to relax her muscles. Miles didn’t join her in bed immediately. Instead he was packing his suit up along with his gauntlets, before stepping back over. Now in a simple black tank top and sweats. His gaze was soft, solemn even. His hand found a strand of her hair, fiddling with it as he watched her cautiously. “Wanna go clean up? I can start a bath or shower for you..” He asked as he took a seat on the bed beside her.

“Yeah, all this damn dust and sweat is gonna make me look a hot mess.” He gave a small chuckle at her joke, though he wasn’t all to amused by the entire situation. He figured it was best to get her comfortable before talking about anything. “Ight. Cmon then ma.” His hands went under her body, picking her up princess style and bringing her over to the bathroom. “I’ll bring you a towel and wash cloth, just gimme a sec.” He gently set her down, his hand lingering on her arm before he left only to briefly return.

“I left some clothes for you on the counter.” He mentioned before placing a kiss upon her forehead and departing from the restroom. She smiled, thankful for his presence. And soon she hopped in the shower. It was relaxing, the hot water pattering gently across her skin. The feeling of cleanliness as she washed the remainders of the day away.

Eventually, she was hopping out of the shower and putting the clothes he had given her on. It wasn’t anything special. Just a pair of his shorts and a shirt, but it felt special to her. Y/N made her way through Miles (Rio’s) apartment, finding her way into the kitchen to snatch up a few snacks. Thankfully Mrs. Morales was fast asleep in her room, so she went without questioning. Y/N made her way back to Miles’ room, entering and shutting the door behind her. His room was mature, calm colors, basic necessities. The usual stuff. Plus his punching bag that she played with on the occasion. From the windows opening, she could see the moons light shining through. She was a bit surprised to see how dark it had gotten. But, she had no issue with it. Not when she was still alive. She gave Miles a faint smile, “Don’t think I’ve ever been so thankful for a shower.” She chimed jokingly as she set the snacks down onto the bedside table. Then she plopped back down on his bed and wrapped herself up in his blanket. Miles was currently standing in front of his closet, fiddling with a glove from his suit as though he was contemplating something. This caught her attention. Sitting up, she sighed. “So, how exactly did you beat that guy?” She inquired, which caused his eyes to meet hers.

“Threw my motorcycle at him. Knocked him down long enough to get you out.” He said before tossing his glove onto his desk chair and making his way over to the bed. Her jaw was wide at his explanation, surprised at his confession. “Your motorcycle? Are you serious babe? That’s fucking crazy.” He only smirked as his hands intruded the blanket and his arms wrapped firmly around her torso. “I’ll just make another one with Unc.” His weight caused her to fall back on his bed, her head now snug in his pillow. His arms felt comforting around her as his head rested on her chest, his soft breaths managing to calm her down. Her hands found his hair, now fiddling with the ends of his braids. Sure, it wasn’t her first time seeing them, but she certainly thought the style suited him well. “I like them, they’re cute.” She said, which caused him to shift and rest his chin on her chest. He had a satisfied look on his face, one only a victor would wear.

“Knew you did. Mom thought they made me look weird, but eh, I think I like them.”

“Good, they suit you.” She nodded in agreement. They sat in silence for a moment, watching each other with gentle eyes. Her hands scratched lightly at his scalp, managing to make his eyes shut. It would seem that the only time Miles could truly allow himself to feel vulnerable, was around her. After a few minutes of pleasant silence, Miles spoke again, his tone much more serious. “Me dejaste preocupado mami..” He muttered, his words muffled as he burried his face back into her chest. This made her heart ache, her brows knitting with concern. “Mi vida, I’m okay now. You saved me..and my friend. Thank you.” He shook his head. “Next time you run. Call me, I’ll help your little friends. For now though, you’re my main priority.” He proclaimed before sitting up from her chest and leaning up to kiss her lips. “I’m serious Y/N. You run.” He spoke against her lips.

“Okay..” She mumbled, her eyes shut and her hands resting on his jaw. Her lips grazed his, the distance growing tantalizingly close. And finally he pressed back into her, lips meshing into hers as his hands traversed her sides. “So glad you’re okay..” He said in a hushed manner as he poured his love into every movement. His kisses slowly began to lower, finding her neck, then her collar bone, and- she hissed. Wincing beneath him, her body tensed and he froze. His hard stare lingered on her, awaiting a sign to stop or continue. “Sorry, think I got a bruise or something. You can keep going Miles.” He didn’t. Not there.

His hands found her legs, now pulling her thighs apart just enough to get closer to her. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, the anticipation of what’s to happen making her giddy with excitement. “Relajate, Y/N. You’re tired and need to rest.” He said as he shifted them around, the two of them now lying on their sides wrapped in one another’s arms. This caused her to sigh, a frown on her face as she glared up at him. “Don’t look at me like that. You just went through a lot, don’t want you hurting yourself more.” He said as he tugged the blanket over their forms.

“Next time don’t start it if you’re not gonna finish it Miles.” She scoffed before scooting into his chest, his familiar scent drawing a small grin from her. “Who said I wouldn’t finish it mami? Just letting you get better first.” She could feel him smirk against her head as he rested his face against the crown of it. His words were enough to silence her, along with the sudden depletion of adrenaline. The two snuggled together, the soft blankets paired with the warmth of one another was enough to make them dreary. “Fine..Goodnight, love you Miles.”

“Te amo ma.”

Taglist? - @willowcxmilee @rinouko @chims-kookies @bbybubbles @supremeshrimpy2 @marice23top @korizzybee @otaku-degenarate @movie-enthusiast22 @corpsebridenightamare @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @marsbars09 @dystop4in14nd @ethanlandrysgf69 @mmxinne @brxght-world @rinisfruity14 @repostingmyfavs @sammarvel123 @idkwhatimdoingherehonestlyy @frissy @d4ridi0rsworld @julie03 @sakura-onesan @oh-kurva (Yall I’m never making a taglist again 🙁 props to y’all who do bc this is too much work.)

#x reader #spider man x reader #spider man across the spiderverse spoilers #spider man across the spider verse #prowler #miles morales prowler #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 #fluff

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lady-rose-moon · 6 months

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I would love to see how you write Loki X shy reader. Like she’s obviously so into him and he just loves to watch her get all flustered

Meet me in the elevator || Avenger!Loki x Reader ||

↣ MASTERLIST

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 3.7k

Since moving into Avengers Tower last year after being rescued from HYDRA, you’ve developed close friendships with the main Avengers, loving to spend most of your time around Wanda or Natasha. They all knew that you didn’t handle well in public settings, talking with new people - hell, it was difficult to just talk to them sometimes, never mind people you’d never met before.

You were settled into a room on the twenty-fifth floor, alongside Thor. It stayed that way for a while before Thor returned from Asgard one day with Loki on his arm. For Loki’s credit, he looked as pleased to be there as the Avengers were to see him there. You, on the other hand, stayed very quiet through the argument that came next, taking moments to just admire the new addition with curiosity. Something inside you told you that you weren’t supposed to be intimidated by the highly intimidating God before you.

“But shouldn’t he be sent to S.H.I.E.L.D? Or- maybe whoever we are supposed to send him to should he return,” Steve was asking, your mind bringing you unwillingly back to the present, your eyes straying away from the man who appeared to be the person at fault for New York 2012.

“If he is handed over to them, they will waste no time in attempting to experiment on him and his power,” Thor answered, his eyes serious and focused on not just Steve but everyone in the room, “Father has ordered his imprisonment here within the tower where we will keep him subdued. Should you turn him away, I am to find alternative lodgings.”

The Avengers took a moment, unspoken arguments crossing around the room before Tony relented, hanging his head and uttering the damning words, “fine, give him the room next to yours, Thor.”

Your admiration stopped within a millisecond. The room next to Thor’s was exactly opposite yours! Slowly, you slid down the sofa until you were fully laid down and silently groaned to yourself. Of course, you’re shacked with a Thunder God and his Godly terrorist brother.

Following Loki’s sudden appearance within the tower, you spent more time avoiding the 25th floor. You avoided it as if it were the plague, going so far as to fall asleep in the common room of the tower just so that you wouldn’t be on the same floor as Loki.

The God didn’t look happy when Thor forced him down to meals every day, claiming that getting Loki into such a routine would be good for his mental health and would help his ‘healing’. You watched every day as Loki sat opposite you, emerald eyes downcast and his posture closed off, unwanting of any attention. Perhaps, you thought, he was like you these days?

You didn’t stick around long enough to actually find out if your theory was correct, however, as once you were done eating, you excused yourself and quickly fled to the library on the 16th floor.

The library was your safe space away from the ruckus of the Avengers and their mission discussions, the quiet of the library calmed a part of you that you never realised needed to be calmed. Since you had woken up in your cell within the HYDRA base with no memory of your life before, your social skills had been severely affected, only opening up after weeks of people trying to get you to open up.

Finding the library after being rescued by the Avengers shortly after the Sokovia incident was a breath of fresh air. From the moment you stepped into the two-floor library, Friday had made sure to play classic music as soon as you entered, easing the stress within you as you scoured the shelves. Since then, you have been happy to visit the library to escape the Avengers and lately; Loki.

The sun shone through the floor-length windows as it reached its peak for the day, the warmth enveloping you as you happily walked through the multiple shelves, your fingers absently brushing against the spines. Perhaps I should try to bring someone here, you thought, recalling speaking with Wanda about the library and smiling at the fascination on her face at the prospect of advancing her magic through books Thor had brought from Asgard.

The silence reigned in the tower during meal times for weeks after Loki’s arrival, it was a statement that everybody was uncomfortable with the God being around. Loki, for the most part, seemed as if he didn’t give a shit about their opinions about him. You’d begun to differentiate his movements from the others, seeing how he got up to get his Asgardian tea prepared exactly three minutes after Banner had poured his coffee and walked away. How Loki would reach for a sandwich shortly after Barton had grabbed six of them, handing three to Natasha to prevent poisoning. How, even though he looked unbothered, there was that subtle glint of loneliness.

It had been weeks since your magic had surfaced, weeks since you’d been able to delve into somebody’s mind. Wanda had taught all of the Avengers how to block themselves mentally against your powers so that not only you could have a better night's sleep but so they could as well.

However, you did not expect to fall into Loki’s dreams.

One moment you were in your own dreams, the next you were standing in a golden throne room. You hid behind a pillar to avoid being discovered, fearing that you’d been snatched by someone.

“What do you want?” there was a voice ahead of you, your view obstructed by the pillar you were hiding behind but when you peeked past it, you saw Frigga, Thor’s mother and therefore Loki’s too. She had a soft frown on her lips, her head tilted slightly as she approached her son, her hand reaching up to caress the terrorist’s cheek.

Your heart stuttered in shock at the discovery. You hadn’t imagined Loki would allow someone close to him but then again, she was his mother, it made sense in a way.

“I…” Loki began and your heart stuttered again but it wasn’t shock, it was a feeling you’d never felt before. You’d never heard his voice before other than the scary videos you were shown when you joined the Avengers, discovering their past. He sounded British, yet he was Norse along with Thor, then again, Thor had a sort of Australian accent when you focused enough.

“I want my brother back,” Loki admitted, his head hung, vulnerability radiating off his body language as he admitted the weakness to his mother. You watched as Frigga’s face swiftly changed into an understanding smile before pulling him in for a hug. Still, Loki continued, his voice coated with grief, “I’m alone there, Mother, I do not want to be alone.”

“It was better than the punishment Odin had planned for you, Loki,” Frigga whispered, her eyes shining with tears, “infinitely so.”

You took in a sharp breath and that was all it took for Loki’s sharp eyes to meet yours and the room disappeared, replaced with a bedroom that looked almost identical to yours in Avengers Tower.

“What are you doing here?” Loki snapped, his eyes hardened and his guard back up. He studied every fraction of your face, looking for the malice he knew you’d have, looking for the blackmail to begin, looking for the taunting. Yet, he found nothing.

Since his arrival, he had taken note of your presence, never once considering you’d be anything like the Witch or Vision. Yet here you stood, in his dreams. Loki grimaced as you stayed silent, his head tilting ever so slightly, mimicking Frigga’s previous actions. “Answer me,” he snapped after a few moments, annoyed by your ignorance.

You trembled as you stared up into Loki’s eyes, your nerves taking control of your body and preventing you from speaking up. Your eyes scanned his face, taking in the wet tear tracks that slid down his face, shining in the light that was coming in from the open curtains. Then your eyes fell to Loki’s decorated tunic, noting the hints of gold woven into the threads and the green accents everywhere.

“You’re staring, pet,” Loki purred, stepping closer to you, intrigue apparent in his features. He’d never seen someone take this much interest in his appearance before. Sure, he’d had wenches back in Asgard to quench his need but never had they admired him the way this girl was doing. It stirred something in Loki, a challenge.

You stammered, attempting to find a way to plead your case before realising it was futile. You wouldn’t be able to find any way to explain this, not with your tongue being tied and your fears rising. So, instead of speaking, you snapped away from his dreams and sat upright in bed.

Brushing a hand through your hair, you took a deep breath before retreating into your bathroom. Since it was the early hours of the morning, you’d abuse the silence of the tower and roam how you wanted.

As you left the room, you were unaware of the emerald green eyes following you from the doorway of the room opposite your own.

You seemed to run into Loki a lot more after accidentally stumbling into his dreams a month ago. Whenever you’d step into the library, your eyes would be drawn to the floor-length windows where Loki was lying on the sofa with a book in hand, lazily turning pages. He gave you no mind, he didn’t even acknowledge you were there yet you still felt his eyes on you constantly.

He was in the gym when you were trying to get some training done. Dressed in just a simple tunic and pants, going up against Steve, he looked the epitome of the female gaze. His hair was pulled back in a bun and his tunic was slightly wet with sweat. You huffed, trying your best not to get distracted by the alluring God fighting against the supersoldier but damn you couldn’t help getting a few glances at that ass. Definitely Asgard’s ass, you thought to yourself with an amused grin.

“Y/N!” Steve called from the ring, running over to the edge as you turned to stare at him, your eyes wandering over his shoulder to meet Loki’s heated gaze and your body warmed, alight with need and interest but physically unable to say anything.

“Yeah Steve?” you spoke up quickly, your eyes quickly shifting to meet Steve’s again.

“Spar with Loki, I need a break,” the soldier spoke. He said it so casually, as if he wasn’t condemning you to at least fifteen minutes of torture in the ring with the object of your desires. Then again, Steve seemed to be oblivious to all the sexual tension happening within the Avengers. He didn’t even know about Wanda and Vision until he saw them kissing in the breakfast room!

You sighed and nodded, getting into the ring and facing Loki. The God’s lips quirked up into a half-smirk as he took you in, his eyes hungrily roving over your body. The tank top you wore barely hid the sports bra below it, your leggings clinging to your legs sparking an interest deep in his abdomen. You drove him mad. You hadn’t visited his dreams since that night but damn, you haunted them still!

“Are you ready, darling?” Loki purred, his voice sinking deep into your bones as he flexed his muscles, grinning to himself when he watched your eyes wander down his form, “you’re staring, Y/N.”

Your body jerked up straight, freezing with nerves as you were caught in the act before you shook your head and got into position.

Sparring with Loki brought out that inner calm that you didn’t know you had. Your mind was always whirring with ‘what if’ scenarios, pulling you under the waves if you allowed yourself to think about it for too long. Inside the ring, mirroring Loki’s movements, keeping eye contact and ignoring the hammering of your heart, you felt more like yourself than you had for years.

When Loki grabbed you and pushed you to the floor, arousal streaked through your body as you were held firmly beneath him, his emerald eyes searing into your own, your heart racing and your mind racing a mile a minute trying to find a way that this can be explained platonically. He was just fighting you, he didn’t want a real reaction, totally not!

Loki, for the most part, kept his attraction to you a secret but as you became a true competitor for him in the ring, he licked his lips at the challenge and eagerly fought back. When he pinned you to the mat, he saw the spark of arousal in your eyes and his grin morphed into a smirk. “TKO, darling,” he whispered seductively, watching your eyes flutter before you seemed to come back to yourself, bring yourself to your feet and scurry away.

From behind him, Loki heard a groan and he chuckled to himself. “Is there a problem, Agent Romanoff?” he asked with a pleased hint to his voice, rolling his head and groaning at the satisfying cracks that could be heard.

“Whatever you’re doing to her, Loki, I suggest you stop,” Romanoff warned, her eyes aflame as she stared at the God of Mischief, “she’s a good asset.”

Innocently, Loki flashed a smirk at Romanoff before striding out of the training room, his bag and towel following after him surrounded by a green glow.

After that, no matter where you were; somehow Loki was too!

Even if you’d checked that he was in his room before heading out anywhere, he just appeared and soured your day. Well – not really, but you acted like it did. In the library, the gym, the kitchens or even out in the city as you got very stir crazy.

Now, you're back in your quarters and you get your first real chance to relax for a moment with Loki constantly following you around. After a rough day, your mind is going a mile a minute as you go through all the different ways he's interacted with you lately. Sure, he could just be friendly and interested in getting to know someone new, but the way he looked at you... the way his eyes locked onto yours... was there something more? You refused to believe it. Loki, the God of Mischief, could never be attracted to you.

Now that you had a moment to think, your stomach growled and you sighed at the realisation that you'd need to step out of your room yet again to get food. You could order but the temptation to get pizza or McDonald's would be too strong. Clicking the lock of your door, you stepped out into the dark hallway and made haste to the kitchens three floors below. Only when the elevator doors dinged open, you were greeted with the heated green gaze of the one God you did not want to see right now.

"Loki," you whispered in shock before calming your racing heart and stepping into the elevator, pressing the 16th floor button, "how convenient that you are here."

He flashes that grin at you that always seems to make your heart skip a beat. Loki casually leans against the opposite wall of the elevator and gazes at you with those enchanting emerald eyes. "Hardly, I just needed food. I suspect you did too?" he asks with that slight smirk.

"That's a very nice outfit you're wearing, darling," he adds. His smile shifts slightly at your blush, that blush that is totally just a natural response and not from him teasing you at all.

You stammered as the elevator descended. Those three floors feeling as if they take an eternity to get past in order to get to the common area. It wasn't really a nice outfit you were wearing, in all honesty. Just simple green joggers and a black shirt. Something you'd simply thrown on to venture downstairs. You weren't aware that you were wearing Loki's favourite colours, didn't know that you were blatantly displaying your affections for him through your clothing.

"Thank you," you murmured so you didn't seem rude, hugging your arms before you gazed up at him and the red that tinted your cheeks deepened when you saw that Loki had not once looked away from you, even if you'd turned your head to the ground.

He stares at you, trying to hide a grin at your evident embarrassment. He likes seeing you blush, and your shy nature certainly makes it easy to do so. Loki decides that he will have a little fun with this. "Tell me, darling," he asks. "Do you happen to like the colour green?" he asks, keeping that smile on his face, just waiting to see your reaction.

Oblivious to the double meaning to his words, you eagerly nodded and grabbed at your joggers, proudly displaying them to the God of Mischief.

"Yeah," you gushed, a goofy grin on your lips that pulled at Loki's heart, your eyes full of innocent pride, "always has been a favourite, always will be."

He raises an eyebrow at you, his smile growing slightly with that innocent pride you have for what you're wearing. Loki decides to play along with your innocence and go to the next step.

"Why, darling," he says, his voice full of mock surprise. "You're not trying to signal that you like me, are you?"

Heat once again rushed to your cheeks at the suggestion. Why would he ask that? Where had that ever been a signal that you liked him? Unless... no- it couldn't be. You remembered a conversation from months ago, Thor had suggested that women who wore red would always be seen as representing him in a way with their colour. Did Loki hold that belief too?

Loki watches the way you react with great interest, and is amused by that adorable blush of yours.

"Oh, darling," he replies. "I simply love a woman who knows how to show off their affection for a man. It's the ultimate form of respect."

His expression shifts slightly, and he takes a small step closer to you. "What, does this little outfit you're wearing mean that you think of me so much that you don't mind the chance that others might see as you trying to court me?" he asks in a playful tone.

"I- I- I didn't mean to-" you stammered; your cheeks flushed bright red by now yet again - though you supposed they'd never stopped being so since entering the elevator-. Your pride for your outfit faded, replaced by nervousness and a little bit of arousal for the God before you. His gaze seared into your soul, laid you bare before him, helpless to even process the fact that the elevator had long since stopped, the emergency stop button being pressed by Loki minutes ago.

"You didn't mean to?" the God asks, feigning innocence despite knowing exactly the effect he's having on you. He takes another small step closer, still keeping that charming grin on his face as he looks at you with those enchanting eyes.

His hand comes up to your throat, and he leans in closer, whispering in your ear. "Maybe you should come back to my room, darling," he says in a soft voice, as if that suggestion is the most natural thing in the world.

Your eyes widened in shock, your body trembling as if processed his request. He said it so naturally! How could he say that so casually?! So many questions raced through your mind as you stared up at him, your lip trembling as you struggled to find words to portray the whirlwind in your mind. Suddenly you realised you were trapped in this elevator with Loki for who knows how long, and you were ultimately playing a game of cat and mouse with the God of Mischief.

"I don't- I can't- we- we're partners, Loki, what will the others think?" you whispered, trying to hard to shy away from the handsome God before you.

He grins at you, amused at the sudden confusion you're feeling. He leans in even closer, his warm breath on your ear as he slowly leaned in closer to you. "Who cares what the others think?" he whispers. "They don't matter. Only we matter here. Don't you want me, darling?" he asks, his voice husky and full of the most hypnotic desire.

Loki's breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, lost in your beauty. "Give in... we have both waited too long, have we not?" he whispers.

Biting your lip, you tried one last time to shy away from his affections but your movement was prevented by a large hand encompassing your throat and pulling you closer to him and soft lips were pressed to your own. Shock rippled through your body as you took in this sudden action before your mind became quiet and you melted into the kiss.

He holds you close, a passionate grip with one of his arms wrapped around you so that you can feel the warmth of his body and his muscles as your lips mingle with his.

As he pulls back from the kiss, Loki is visibly panting. "I can feel your heartbeat, darling," he whispers. "You like my presence all the more." You can't deny it. Loki seems to make your heart jump even more now.

"I have wanted..." you hesitated, shame filling your body at the realisation that Loki had at least been interested in you for a while and you'd be avoiding him. "Since you came here, I have been intrigued by you then... one day... it was feelings and then... I tried to hide it," you whispered with a soft laugh, shaking your head and avoiding his gaze.

Loki wraps you in a warm embrace, running his hands over your hair. "Darling, you're so adorable. Why ever would you try and hide this from me?" he asks, looking directly into your eyes. "Let me show you just how interested I am in you."

Loki's eyes shift to something you hadn't expected: hunger. His eyes were always beautiful, but now they were filled with raw desire. And it was focused entirely on you.

Food forgotten, you pressed the button for your floor and wrapped your arms around Loki's neck, awaiting the arrival of your floor four floors above you.

@lokisgoodgirl @lokisninerealms @slpnbty2001 @jennyggggrrr @hahaha12123445 @ozymdias @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lovingchoices14 @xorpsbane @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbs @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonadane @silverfire475 @chantsdemarins @iamsherlocked1479 @kittiowolf210 @just-someone11 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loki-laufeyson-1054 @fictive-sl0th @coldnique @anukulee @eleniblue @asgards-princess-of-mischief

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a-small-safe-place · 2 months

Text

His Haven: Part 4

Part 1 2 3

Homelander x Psychiatrist!AFAB!Reader Content⚠️: This does have smut. Masturbation, mentions of oral sex, light fingering, hand job, praise kink, very light implications of edging, penis in vagina.

Your meetings with Homelander continue as normal. You've made it clear that if he doesn't comply with your boundaries, he will be transferred to a new psychiatrist, and he has done well to stay within the professional boundaries.

"Tell me about how you grew up, Doctor," Homelander says. He is looking out of your office window with his hands behind his back.

"I'm not able to discuss that. Boundaries, remember?" you say sternly to avoid leading him on. He scoffs, irritated.

"It's always these fucking boundaries. Always with the red tape with you. I'm the strongest supe in the world; there aren't any boundaries I can't break or cross." That gives you an idea of what mood he is in. Did Stan put him in his place, or was it Madelyn this time? Either way, he always brings up that he's the strongest supe out there and that he can do what he wants when one of those two has upset him.

"Is something specific bothering you today?" you ask, ignoring his comment.

"Maeve broke up with me. Madelyn is cooking up some story for the public." He takes a sharp breath in. "Maeve didn't like that I was sleeping with other women, but she wasn't giving me what I needed. Sure, we had sex, but neither of us was interested in it. And for the past months, you've let me be me when no one else will." He stutters a few times during his speech. He turns to look at you. Homelander expects you to say something.

"Did Maeve say why she broke it off? You two were together for a while," you ask, not wanting to encourage poor habits.

"I said we weren't interested in the sex we were having. I'm a man; I have needs," he plainly says, as if the fact he was cheating is normal and okay. Most people would assume Homelander is shallow for cheating, but it's clear there's more to it. Unfortunately, sex isn't something you could ask Homelander about because that could give him the wrong impression.

"I would say most potential romantic partners wouldn't be too happy about your needs being fulfilled by other people," you tell him to let him know you're condemning his unfaithful behavior.

He scoffs. "Please, any woman would be lucky to have me." Homelander stares at you for a second. He's studying you; maybe he's x-raying you or trying to notice any subtle changes.

"Problem?" you question.

"No-no. I just… was thinking." Homelander can't tell you he wants to crash his lips onto yours. He can't say that he wants to feel up your breasts and get you out of that blouse you wear all the time. He can't say that he wants to pull you close and then fuck you on your desk. He knows he would cum fast being inside you for the first time, but Homelander also knows you'd be just as satisfied, if not more. Homelander can't tell you that your arousal smells so strong to him he can practically taste it.

Homelander suddenly leaves. He has to get away from you. He flies high into the sky, passing the area where a plane would be flying. In the sky, he feels alone. Homelander breathes in. He wonders if you'd ever trust him to bring you this high where only true gods can be. Of course, Homelander would make sure you're safe. He would take you high enough that the thin air was a thrill for you. He slides his pants around his thighs. Not enough for them to fall off, but enough for him to have access to his dick that's been hard since you condemned him for cheating on Maeve. You could be so stern but such a fucking tease.

Homelander begins to stroke himself. He starts slow, making sure his hand isn't wrapped too tightly. You're in his mind right now; he knows you'd be so slow with your strokes. You'd tell him how good he was doing the longer he could keep it together. Homelander strokes faster. He has no control to keep going slow, but you would. Your soft touches and soft praises would drive him crazy; they would drive him over the edge.

He says your name; he sounds like he's begging. "Please," he says with an almost pained expression. Homelander needs you, but his hand will have to do for now. The stimulation from his hand and the way you plague his mind are too much, and his cum shoots into the sky.

Homelander feels a lot of different emotions upon his release. You should be fucking begging him to even glance at you. He feels somewhat pathetic being so under your thumb. He feels fucking pissed because the semen he just shot so high in the sky should have been on your breasts, face, or somewhere inside you, not falling worthlessly to the earth. You should be the one begging for his attention the way he begged you to let him cum in his fantasy.

Homelander flies back to his penthouse. He feels more determined than ever to have you in all the ways he wants you. Maeve is no longer holding him back from a real relationship, and Madelyn wouldn't be upset because she seems to like you. After his abrupt exit, Homelander doesn't visit you for any more appointments that week.

The following week arrives, and you have yet to see Homelander anywhere. You're leaving a session with another client when you walk into your lobby and see the prettiest bouquet of your favorite flowers. A card with your name proudly sticks out. Your receptionist is gone, and the lobby is empty.

"Your receptionist almost refused to tell me what your favorite flowers were. I guess she wasn't willing to die to keep your secret," Homelander says, sounding playful, walking out of the men's restroom and effectively startling you. "I just heard that little heart of yours jump."

"Homelander, this is crossing a boundary," you say, trying to sound stern, but the shakiness of your voice tells Homelander that you're nervous.

"Enough with the fucking boundaries. I'm tired of being a fucking patient and having to throw a tantrum every time I want you to look at me. I'm not your patient anymore. I dropped you. Now, we can have what we have both been wanting." He circles you like you're his prey. "Your receptionist is out for the day. I told her you canceled your other appointments so that I could have my time with you. And then I had her send out that automated email to those psychos you insist on surrounding yourself with." He seems proud of himself, as if he's accomplished something huge, and now you cannot deny him what he wants.

"What makes you think I'm even interested in you?" you ask him with a glare.

"Don't be like that. Even right now, I can smell how aroused you are. If I left right now, you'd probably scamper home and immediately spend the night with that pink vibrator in between your legs." Homelander has such a love-hate relationship with that thing. He's watched you use it a lot, and you're moaning his name most of the time, but that toy isn't him, so he hates it.

You blush, but not in an attractive way, either. Your whole face heats up. "How do you know about that?" you ask, exasperated.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is that you want me to fuck you. Tell me that you're not attracted to me. Tell me that you wouldn't be opposed to me fucking you in your office right now. Say you don't, and I'll leave you alone about it." Homelander has no intention of leaving you alone, no matter your response.

You stay quiet, avoiding his gaze. You suddenly walk into your office. He follows. "God, you're such an ass!" you tell him. Homelander presses himself against you and presses his lips against yours in a heated kiss. He's desperate, and that makes it hard to go slow. You reciprocate and match the desperation. He doesn't taste like anything, which is a testament to how clean Homelander likes to be in his everyday life. You, on the other hand, are sweet. His hand quickly finds your breasts as if you'd decided to take them away. Homelander breaks the kiss.

"Your blouse is in the way. So is your bra." He quickly removes your top clothing that had become a hindrance. His hands are nimble, but the cold leather of his gloves is ruining the moment.

"Can you take off your gloves?" you ask. Homelander doesn't hesitate to lose them, and his bare hands are now able to feel the warmth of your breasts. Your nipples are pointed. That's a good sign. He dips his head, sucking and kissing anywhere his lips can land on your breasts. One of his hands finds its way to rest on your hand.

"I'm ready for you," you tell him breathlessly. Your cunt is soaked from the reaction Homelander is giving.

"You're delicious. I've been desperate to fuck you since I walked into your office." He drops his pants but pointedly leaves the top half of his super suit on. He trusts you, but he still isn't comfortable showing you the parts of him that he's most embarrassed about. He pulls your skirt and panties off and immediately rubs slow circles around your clit. He watches your face, trying to decipher if you're enjoying that movement.

"I like that. Keep going. You're doing so well," you encourage Homelander. He guides your hand to his hard cock, and just like he imagined, your strokes are slow. He could cum in your hand so easily if you would just go a little faster.

Before either of you can cum, he flips you over and shoves you down into the desk. Homelander tries to be gentle, but he's so eager to be inside you. You spread your legs a little more to give him better access. He begins thrusting in and out of your wet cunt.

"You feel so good. It feels better than I imagined," Homelander groans out, enjoying the feeling of your body being wrapped around his. His hands explore your bare back. His thrusts begin to become more hasty and desperate.

"I can feel that you're close," you tell him breathily. You can't see it, but Homelander's face turns red. He is embarrassed that you haven't come yet, and he's almost at the edge of his orgasm.

Homelander throws his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to wait." He wants to tell you that you feel that good and that even if he does finish before you, he will make sure you reach the same heights of pleasure.

"It's okay, you're doing well." You reach around to find his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Homelander leans down and pulls you up so your back is pressed into his chest. He wants to be touching you as much as possible while he cums. Homelander's face finds the crook of your neck. He breathes in your smell. He wants to remember it forever, the smell of your natural scent mixed with his scent and both your arousal and his. Homelander hugs you tightly from behind, and with a sharp breath in and a following moan that's muffled by your skin, he's finished inside of you.

Homelander doesn't move for a moment. He wants to stay like this, to savor you in case you disappear as you had done so many times before in his intimate moments alone.

Homelander lets go of you and pulls out. You turn around and notice the tears streaking his face. He's not crying and doesn't seem to notice the tears. "Wow, that was intense," you tell him, sensing that it would be better not to point out the tear gloss on his cheeks.

"Don't worry, I'm not done with you yet, little lady," he says, trying to sound confident. You wonder if that "little lady" bit is his attempt to remind himself and you that he's in charge. Before you can bring it up, Homelander pushes you back up on the desk, and his head is dipping between your legs.

He certainly was not done with you. Homelander made sure that you enjoyed yourself in that office, and as you leave your office, you wonder what this means for your relationship. This wasn't a regular hookup. It couldn't be after the visceral reaction Homelander had during his first orgasm when he so desperately clung to you.

Unbeknownst to you, Homelander was already waiting at your apartment. He was going to show you the other benefits of his affection.

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#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys fanfic #fem!reader #psychiatrist x character #female reader #reader x character #homelander smut #this is my first time writing actual smut #afab reader #homelander fanfiction #reader x homelander #i forgot i originally had a gender neutral reader #homelander x psychiatrist #homelander x you

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blingblong55 · 3 months

Text

The sun and moon-Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

Okay, but I was on TikTok and you’re the only blog I know who really likes Makarov besides me and 🙈😭😫🥰🙈 if you know the audio, that goes like 🎶 me and the devil… walking side by side 🎵 it made me think of him and reader and just, like… idk. Becoming his queen and I just love the idea of him seeing all this (whether he saw it from the beginning or noticed it after a while/before anyone else) potential in you that no one else seemed to, and fosters that in you, making you two a power couple in your little dynasty. He may do the dirty work and have blood on his hands, but you’re just trying to do good and make the world a better place again, even if it’s by any means necessary. Idk. Maybe it’s also bc I also just love hades & persephone sm too and it also gives me the grumpy & sunshine trope as well in a way too but I thought I’d share bc I’ve been loving this thought so much 🥰😭🥰🙈 ---- F!reader, romance/fluff, established!relationship ----

A/N: making this honestly lets me be a little more creative so thank you! I just couldn't stop writing and I think this will be the best I've ever done

Russia is a place known to be cold, and really, for him this is what life is like. For you, on a different side of the world, it's more calm and beautiful.

In the world of cruelty, there exists a power couple like no other. Vladimir Makarov, feared and revered, walks the path of darkness, his hands stained with the blood of many. Yet, beside him stands y/n, his love, the queen of his heart and his guiding light. Together, they forge a new destiny, a dynasty built on strength.

He is a titan among men, commands armies with a flick of his wrist and leaves a trail of destruction in his wake. To stand in front of him, it so is in the presence of death itself yet, there is one who walks beside him, a figure shrouded in mystery and clocked in the endgame of your own making.

Y/n, they call you, a name whispered in hushed tones by those who have glimpsed her fleeting presence. To some, you're a beacon of hope, a flicker of light in the darkness, your mere presence enough to quell the storm raging within Makarov's soul. But who are you, his angel, who holds the heart of the most feared man in the world? Some say you're his queen, his equal in every way, gaze as steely as his own, resolve unshakable in the face of adversity. Others whisper of a love born from the depths of despair, forged in the fires of war, a bond that transcends time and space.

As the world trembles beneath the weight of their combined might, one thing remains certain: where there is Vladimir Makarov, there too shall be y/n, walking side by side, their destinies entwined in a dance of darkness and light, love and war.

Amid chaos and carnage that define their existence, Makarov sits by a window, looking out to the gardens. In the hazy corridors of his mind, he recalls the first time he laid eyes on you, a glimpse of beauty amidst the ugliness of war. "What's her name?" He asks one of his men. You stood before him, gaze unwavering, spirit unbroken. "Y/n, daughter of-" "go away," he says sternly and walks up to you. "As beautiful as day, Y/N," he takes your hand and kisses it. "Who are you?" Oh, that soft voice of yours that melts his cold heart. "Vladimir but you can call me Vovo," his accent rich and smooth.

There is something about you that sets you apart from the rest, that ignited a spark of curiosity within him.

"Makarov, war is on," a man walked into the room. "If you must excuse me dear, I have some…stuff to do," he walks out of the room as if it's just another typical day for him.

Days passed, and you were told to stay indoors since you didn't seem capable of winning a war, much less fighting one. And with one knock on the door, he walks inside, interrupting your train of thought. "C'mon, I'm not letting your beauty rot in this room," he says, extending his hand and you take it without doubt. "Where are we to go?" you ask.

"To battle my dear, but you'll stick beside me," he mentions, guiding you through the dark corridors.

And as he is called back to attention, the beautiful memory fades. As it fades and the present comes crashing back, Makarov is left with a sense of longing, a yearning for a time when the world was simpler, when he and you were just two souls bound together by fate. And though the scars of war may never heal, he takes solace in the knowledge that no matter what the future may hold, he will always have you by his side.

As the years go by, you two navigate the treacherous landscape of warfare. Where his iron fist strikes, you are the steady hand that holds the light for him to come back home.

You've learned a lot from him, from fighting to learning that not all his wrongs are from pure hate and cruelty.

It's a waltz, a dangerous, blood-driven waltz.

In the middle of all the turmoil in their line of work, there are moments of intimacy between you two, moments when they cast aside the weight of their burdens and simply exist in each other's presence. In those fleeting moments, they are not leaders of armies or the rulers of wars but two souls bound together by an unbreakable bond of love and devotion.

And though the world trembles at the sound of your names, Makarov and Y/N stand unwavering, their hearts intertwined in a dance of passion and desire. For in each other, they have found solace in a world consumed by chaos, a beacon of light in the darkness that surrounds them.

"Vovo?" you say comfortably in his arms. "Любимая?" (darling) "Will there be a day where this will end?" "Yes, but until then, I'll just keep holding you close," his warm lips meet your forehead.

They've said before that Makarov reigns as a formidable figure, feared and respected by all who cross his path. His domain is a world of shadows and chaos, where darkness reigns supreme and few dare to tread. You, you're a vision of beauty and grace that was consumed by war.

As yet another storm is to come, you and him stand together. "Don't ever leave me, okay?" he pleas. "Like I ever was," you smile.

In the shadows, he lurks and in the sun, you dance. No evil, no war and no man can separate you from the other.

It's beautiful, how you can be so opposite. Vladimir was midnight and you were sunshine. He preferred a dark room and a sunroom. Dark clothes covered him and you with warm and beautiful colours. It's a peculiar kind of love and it's warm. Loving the devil, loving an angel. The same story is told just like Hades and Persephone.

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hallietblr · 11 months

Note

A dating Jeremiah fic?

loving you is so easy | j.fisher x reader

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! i hope my writing meets the expectations for what’ll be like to date jeremiah!

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption

—

dating jeremiah is like waking up and feeling fully rested after weeks of exhaustion. he’s fun and dating him is a constant adventure. there’s never a dull moment between us two. we’re always up to something whether it be driving in the middle of the night with all windows down or it’ll be us snuggling on the couch and giggling with one another.

i lay on my stomach on the smooth surfboard as i feel the waves beneath me sway the board. the salty water from my hair was dripping down my face and the sun was hot on my back.

“are you sure this is a good idea?” i ask jeremiah nervously as he climbs onto the board with me. we both carefully adjust ourselves so we’re both seated,

he shrugs, “probably not but do you trust me? i think it’ll be fun”

“if you say so!” i laugh, he tells me to start paddling and swim we’re both standing on the surfboard together.

it’s extremely unsteady as we both wobble, attempting to keep our balance. but within seconds, we’re both in the ocean. i swim to the surface and burst into a fit of laughter,

“that had to be one of the dumbest things weve done” i tell him as he swims the surfboard towards me, “i can’t believe we were even able to stand on it.”

“makes for a good story though!” he grins before kissing my lips.

dating jeremiah shows me a new sort of love that i never knew existed. after a failed situationship after another, i remember there being a point in my life where i felt like i was unlovable. until i met the curly headed boy. he is loud and proud about us dating, making sure that the whole world knows that we’re together — he never hides it and it’s refreshing.

big, big house parties were never my thing. i was always more of a chill at home with a few friends kind of person rather than going to a huge party. i’m not really sure why but something about being in a small house packed of sweaty and drunk teenagers doesn’t seem very fun to me.

my boyfriend, jeremiah, on the other hand absolutely loves them. he has always been a social butterfly and he loves any opportunity to hang out with new people.

i never really care whenever he goes to parties without me, i trust him. he never pushes me to go to these events either because he knows that i’m not comfortable in these settings. some how today, he convinced me to go.

“come on, baby,” he pleas, “it’ll be fun!”

i shrug, folding up my throw blanket on my half made bed, “i don’t know, jere. you know i’m not big on parties.”

he flops onto my bed and looks up at me with big puppy eyes, “i know babe, but everyone’s been asking to meet you since i talk about you at parties all the time!” he exclaims,

“plus, if you ever feel uncomfortable we can leave right away, no questions asked” jeremiah smiles.

i sigh before nodding my head, “ok fine, only this once though”

he scrambled up and pulls me into a tight hug, spinning us in circles, “god, i love you so much!”

as i got ready for the party, contemplating between a pink or yellow tank top (eventually picking the pink one), i met jeremiah downstairs who was talking to my family.

“you look absolutely gorgeous” he grins, twirling me to get a 360 view, “a goddess.”

my parents awe at the sight before bidding the two of us goodbye as we leave for the party. when we pull up, there’s loud music and talking amongst the tipsy teenagers. jeremiah protectively wraps an arm around my waist as he guides us through the crowd and towards the drinks.

he says hi to a bunch of people we pass by, “oh hey man, this is my girlfriend, y/n” he would proudly say, kissing the top of my head, “isn’t she just the prettiest?”

he opens a drink for me and hands it over before jumping onto the kitchen counter,

“cheers everyone! this one is for my beautiful girlfriend, thank you for coming out tonight, baby! i love you endlessly — have a great night people!” he shouts before hopping off, my face was flushing a bright red before his hands are on my waist.

jeremiah grins at me and pulls me into a passionate kiss in front of everyone. his boys are cheering for us along with some of the girls.

dating jeremiah revealed to me that not all dream-like boyfriends exist only in fiction, but also in real life. he never forgets to message me goodnight, to kiss me goodbye, makes sure that neither of us go to bed upset with the other. jeremiah brings me small gifts that reminded him of me when they’re unexpected. loving him is one of the easiest things i’ve ever done. jeremiah showed me a new sort of love that i never knew existed. he truly is the perfect boyfriend to me and never makes me feel alone. he’s my biggest supporter and is honestly my comfort person.

—

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h00nerz · 8 months

Text

spots on!

FORTY-TWO / a little bit

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warnings: none i don’t think

word count: 1.9k

YOU THOUGHT YOUR HEART WAS GOING TO BEAT OUT OF YOUR CHEST. It had been over a week since the last time he had appeared outside your window, and honestly, you weren’t expecting it to happen again. But, you caught his glowing green eyes staring at you through the glass, and you knew it was him.

With trembling fingers, you slowly pulled open your sliding door. There was a soft breeze outside, creeping into your small apartment now that there was no barrier to keep it out. It felt nice, especially because your skin was burning hot under his gaze.

“Yeonjun.” You spoke his name quietly, watching him with wide eyes. You were still having a time believing that the man in the cat themed suit was actually Yeonjun, but now that you were staring right at him while he was in action, it was starting to make more sense.

“Ladybug.” He replied, and though he was barely visible in the darkness, his pearly white teeth were illuminated when a cheeky smile crept onto his lips. “Is it okay if I come in?”

You nodded. “Yeah.” It’s always okay. As embarrassing as it was to admit, you had missed him appearing on your balcony in the late hours of the night.

You took a step to the side so he could come in, and it was then you remembered how much of a disaster your apartment was. For the last week, you’d been working on a big project for one of your design classes, which resulted in every inch of your space being covered in fabric, sketches, scissors, etc.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, it’s such a mess in here.” You quickly apologized, darting over to the couch to pick up some things and make room for him to sit.

“Don’t worry about it. Actually…” He cleared his throat as he watched you, and even though his mask made it difficult to read his expression, you could tell he was nervous. “I was thinking… We could go out. There was something I wanted to show you.”

“Oh.” You dropped an armful of fabric, nodding. “Y-Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Should I…?” You gestured down to yourself, hoping he would catch your drift without you having to come out and say it.

He hummed in a questioning tone, but then it dawned on him. “Oh! Yeah. Unless you want me to carry you.” He spoke flirtatiously. “Just kidding! Joking!” He seemed to immediately regret it, then turned around to face away from you.

You rolled your eyes. There was no reason to turn around, since it wasn’t like you had to undress to transform, but you found his attempt at manners endearing nonetheless.

Transforming in front of other people was new for you—especially in front of Chat Noir. The only time you’d ever done it was in front of Sieun once, when you’d been in a rush to get transformed and go handle an Akuma. This felt entirely different than that—it felt more… Intimate? That seemed like the right word.

With a deep breath, you called out the key words, (“spots on!”), and within a few seconds, you had been metamorphosed into your superhero alter-ego, Ladybug.

You cleared your throat, and Yeonjun—Chat Noir—turned around to face you. He stared at you for a moment, then let out a nervous laugh. “You know, now that I know you’re Ladybug, I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.” He said, his bright eyes taking your polka dotted figure.

Heat spread across your face. “Yeah. I can’t believe I didn’t see it either.” You said, reaching up to scratch the back of your neck. “Umm, shall we go?”

He nodded, and the two of you disappeared out your window.

Ever since you were first granted the power of the Ladybug Miraculous, and first met Chat Noir, you had found yourself soaring above the cityscapes hundreds of times. But, even though you’d done it more times than you could count, tonight felt like it was the first time all over again.

When you risked a glance over at him, you didn’t really see Chat Noir anymore. But, you didn’t really see Yeonjun, either. You saw somebody completely new, that you couldn’t wait to get to know. And he was beautiful, especially with the moonlight illuminating his features and the wind combing through his dark hair. Beautiful.

A warmth spread through your chest when you looked over at him. A different kind of warmth from when you used to look at him—both as Yeonjun and as Chat Noir. It was a brand new kind of feeling, and as much as new usually scared you, you knew deep down this was a good kind of new.

You followed him across the city, leaping from rooftop to rooftop and using your yo-yo to swing through the air, until finally, he came to a stop on an unfamiliar rooftop.

“Ta-da!” He announced, turning to face you and giving you jazz hands.

You raised an eyebrow. “Uh, am I supposed to know what this place is?” You asked cautiously, glancing around to try and find any indicators of where you were.

He deflated, his hands falling to his leather-clad sides with a thwap! “Are you serious? You really have no idea?” He frowned.

You shook your head. “Nope. No clue.”

He sighed. “Okay. Before I tell you, let me explain.” He took a step towards you, and judging by the shakiness in his breath, he was growing nervous. “When we were at the launch party… I know you were there to talk to some designers, but our dumb friends kind of ruined it… So, I, um, showed my dad your portfolio, and he showed it to some of his friends…”

Your heart soared. “Yeonjun, you didn’t—“

“And a designer he’s close with, Bae Irene, was really interested in your work, and you’ll probably get a call from her tomorrow, but she wants you to go intern at her studio for the summer.”

“Oh my god! This is—This is the Bae Designs building!” You suddenly realized, turning to get a good view of the city streets below you, and Yeonjun laughed.

“Yeah, I thought you’d know, since you’re a fashion student and all…”

You couldn’t believe this. Irene had always been one of your fashion heroes growing up, but she was also one of the most famous designers in the whole city, so you never dreamed of working with her. But, thanks to Yeonjun, your hard work had paid off, and she wanted to work with you!

“Yeonjun, this is…!” You couldn’t find the words as you turned back to face him, your heart racing a million miles a second.

He smiled sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “I was worried you might hate me, after everything that happened… I wanted to make it up to you, and Y/N…” He stepped forward again, and this time he was close enough to take your hands into his.

“You were never just a game to me. I was never playing you. Everything I ever said to you was true. You’re incredible. Smart, hardworking, funny, beautiful… Whether you’re Ladybug, or Y/N, I think you’re amazing.”

You were so overwhelmed with the hundreds of different emotions coursing through your bloodstream, you were thankful you were wearing a mask to hide the tears slipping out of your eyes.

“You thought I would hate you?” You laughed, then sniffled. “You could have a million different secret identities, but I would never hate you, Yeonjun.” You told him, and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you.

“You’re the funniest, sweetest, most attractive person I’ve ever met. And the fact you did all of this for me just proves that I was right in feeling that way.”

His own arms were now wrapped around your waist as you poured your heart out to him, a nervous, breathy laugh escaping his lips.

“I know this might sound crazy, and I might be ruining everything and scaring you away by saying this, but…”

You stepped on your tip-toes, so your gaze was level with his. He was staring at you with wide eyes, his lips slightly parted as he anticipated what you were going to say.

“I think I might be a little bit in love with you, Yeonjun.” You whispered.

“Really?” He asked breathlessly.

You nodded.

“Well, that sucks. Because I think I might be a lot in love with you.” He whispered back to you, and leaned toward to bump his nose against yours.

You giggled. “You’re such a nerd.” You told him.

“I know. But this nerd is all yours.”

The two of you moved in unison as you finally crashed your lips into each other.

All the tension that had been building between the two of you for years finally exploded into a red-hot, fiery ball of passion that had you overwhelmed with emotion. You found yourself clawing at his back, desperately trying to pull him closer to you, like he might run away and leave you forever if you let him go for even a second.

You knew you were on a rooftop out in the open, and it was only a matter of time before someone snapped a picture and sent it to the Ladyblog, but you didn’t care. In that moment, even though you were donning your superhero suits, you weren’t Ladybug and Chat Noir.

You were just Yeonjun and Y/N. Two stupid people that spent way too long finding your way to each other. Two stupid people that could have been together a long time ago if you had just opened your eyes and paid more attention.

But, even though lots of tears were shed, and there were so many messes that could have been avoided, you wouldn’t change anything about the way the two of you had gotten together. You wouldn’t change anything about your story with him.

After what felt like an eternity of passionately making out on that rooftop, you finally pulled away for air, resting your forehead against his as you took a moment to catch your breath.

“Can we go back to my place? So I can finally kiss you out of these stupid costumes?” You asked between breaths, laughing at your own stupid question.

He chuckled as well, then went back in for one more soft, feathery kiss. “We can do whatever you want, Y/N. I’ll follow you wherever you want to go.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love my cheesiness!”

“I don’t, I really don’t. It’s the only thing holding me back from being a lot in love with you.” You grinned as his face was lit up with fake hurt.

“Rude, Y/N! I don’t know how comfortable I am going home with someone who’s so mean to me.” He pouted as you finally broke free from his embrace.

“Are you sure? I mean, I’ll just go home by myself. Maybe I’ll call Mark.” You teased while you started to stretch out your limbs.

He gasped loudly. “Hey, no! I’m joking! Let’s go, right now! I’ll even carry you!” He exclaimed, rushing over to your side.

You giggled, and leaned over to kiss him one more time. “You’re so cute, Yeonjun. Anyways, last one there is a rotten egg!” You shouted, and before he had time to protest, you were zipping away.

“Oh, you’re so on, M’Lady!” He yelled after you, and the two of you chased after each other into the night.

Yeah. You wouldn’t change anything about how the two of you got there.

authors note: hahahaha heyyyy~~ it only took a million years but here it is!!! i love these 2 and i��m so sad this smau is almost over but i’m also glad so you guys don’t have to keep suffering waiting for an update hahaha. only 3-4 chapters left it’ll probably finish just in time for freefall dropping next week !!

tag list: (closed) @therealhyunjingf @jakeshands @impureperhaps @mazeinthemoon @tyunlatte @loveliii @exohclipse @17szn @txtbrainrot @bubblytaetae @serafilms @iirene304 @snowfalltxt @choistick @lost-leopard-beanie @taekwondoes @captivq @aestheticsluut @surshica @suburbiataehyung @cecedrake2217 @omiomipepperoni @ttyunz @stellz581 @cher-bears @tyunner @eggomi @rikismiel @vianna99 @certainyouthpeanut @cookiehaos @90sni-ki @http-gyu @iad0ru @viagumi @reverbtunes @fatoompie @ka143 @sserafimez @hoonjjun @ahnneyong @cutiespaghetti @wonioml @emohazuzworld @taylvvrr @cowsmicwu

#🐞.spotson #txt x reader #txt #txt smau #kpop smau #tomorrow x together #txt imagine #kpop x reader #yeonjun smau #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagine #choi yeonjun #yeonjun #choi yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun imagine

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cultofdixon · 1 year

Text

Bundle up next to me

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • The period between the farm fire to the prison, no one talks about enough. Granted, why would you want to remember a time you felt extremely useless when helping the ones you love? • ANGST/SFW • TW: Illness / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

When you’re a little kid, watching the snow fall from your bedroom window was always an exciting thing. School closes…you get dressed in warm clothing…and you run outside to build a snowman or have snow ball fights with the neighborhood kids.

Well

This time didn’t have that feeling.

Waking up to find out that it snowed over night, lead the group in the house they were in—-to slightly panic. Rick needs to get his wife and son warm. Hershel needs to get his kids warm. They need to scavenge more for warmer clothing. Daryl needs to hunt whatever he can to provide for his family. There was a lot that needed to be done and Daryl didn’t wait to start hunting for whatever game could be lurking within the neighborhoods they hopped through.

Every new place they moved to, Daryl left for about an hour to go look for dinner. Even if it’s a bird. He’ll take anything. While Glenn, Rick, and Y/N took care of scavenging the houses for anything that will help them warm up. Leaving Maggie and Carol to start the fire and secure the places they lived in for everyone while they were out. Everyone had an assigned job during the winter.

But then there were down times…

“Y/N, hun, you don’t look too well” Hershel commented on her weak and pale complexion as she worked on a can of beans she found opening it for Carl.

The doc stating such caused everyone some alarm, if one of them were getting sick they’d need to be careful not to as well. But to also not lose said someone. Which was the thought that instantly coursed through Daryl’s mind.

“I’m fine, Hershel” Her voice was hoarse as she watched the concerned looks from Rick and Lori which made her get up from her spot to isolate herself. “Imma lay down”

“I’ll check on yea every hour. Just so you don’t get worse” Hershel frowns pulling his daughter Maggie aside along with Glenn and started discussing items that he will need that will most likely be in the medicine cabinets of homes surrounding them.

That when Daryl noticed the two get up after talking it out with the old man, he got up himself heading over to Y/N while removing his poncho.

“Oy, sit up” Daryl gave Y/N a look as she was confused but knew he wasn’t asking.

Y/N slowly sat up letting Daryl put his poncho on her and adjust it to cover all of her. He knew he would leave after check on her to find her a blanket or two that weren’t part of the surplus that Rick was hogging for his pregnant wife and son.

Daryl didn’t know much of how to take care of someone because no one correctly took care of him. But he knew by pressing the back of his hand to her forehead was to check for fever…and she was a bit warm. Least not the scary kind that yknow…turned people into walkers.

“Movin’? Again? Y/N is sick we should stay put a while”

“Daryl’s right, Rick. Not just that but we shouldn’t move too much for your pregnant wife’s sake as well”

“I found a house with a fire place. One not damaged by herds or human negligence. We can start a fire in that so it can remain ablaze while we slept at night.” Rick informs the two knowing their concerns. “We’ll be careful with moving the two. But I believe we can hold up most of winter in that house”

“If shit happens, it’s on you” Daryl states both of what he and Hershel were thinking as it wasn’t a good idea to move when the winter is getting even colder.

The Grimes took lead toward the house with the Greenes following behind them. Daryl currently carried Y/N in his arms as she was wrapped in all the blankets the archer had found her. While Glenn and Carol watched their backs.

Once everyone was in this new house, Rick and Glenn got to work on barricading the bottom floor’s doors and windows so nothing and no one could come in. Especially the snow. While Carol took care of sweeping the second floor before helping Daryl get Y/N situated in the one bedroom on the first floor when everyone else huddled with each other in the main room.

“Carol can yea—-“

“I’ve got the window” Carol went to barricade such while Daryl carefully placed Y/N down in the bed readjusting all the blankets she came with. “I’ll go get one of the can foods we brought from Glenn. See if she’ll eat”

“Okay…can yea get the thermometer thing from Hershel while you’re at it?” Daryl frowns watching Carol nod before she left to go such.

Daryl went through his pack to take out his canteen and opened it for Y/N, helping her take a sip of water. Even if she coughed a bit after such.

“Gotta get yea to eat somethin’ before I go out again”

“Be safe” She whispers snuggling herself into the blankets as Daryl brushes away the loose hair in her face.

After checking her temp, which hasn’t changed, and got her to eat a bit of the canned corn that Carol found, Daryl stepped out of the bedroom grabbing his crossbow and pack about to head out when Glenn shot up from his seat.

“Cool if I go with you?”

“Mhm” Daryl gestures toward the door indicating he’s leaving now.

The two set off to track what Daryl has been trying to find for a week. Hopefully a deer. The tracks were clear but it could’ve gone far that they can’t catch up. While Daryl kept his mind on the tracks, Glenn’s was elsewhere.

“Can’t believe she got sick man. That’s gonna be a difficult situation if it gets worse”

Silence

“If Maggie got sick. Boy I wouldn’t leave her side”

Annoyed silence

“If she gets worse, Rick might have us ditch her like we did Jim—-“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP” Daryl snaps in Glenn’s face as the yell echoed through, startling a few birds but most importantly…the deer he’s been tracking. Glenn had zero time to register what happened as he quickly drew his rifle and instantly aimed at the deer shooting it.

The silence grew between them when Daryl went to check and make sure the deer was dead dead by finishing the job, before tossing it over his shoulders. He turned toward Glenn watching him anxiously hold the gun looking at Daryl with an apologetic look.

“I know you care about her, Daryl…I’m sorry for rambling about it. It’s just..”

“Scary. It’s fucking scary!” The archer snaps again, this time with a bit of regret. “I’m trustin’ Rick with everythin’ he’s doing. But if it comes to that? I’d kill him on the spot if he makes me leave the woman I care about”

“Woah. You’re scarier than I initially thought…but same. If yknow…it was about Maggie”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him when Glenn scrambled to say such. It was soon followed with a sigh as the two started their way back “home”.

“Hershel has been giving her cold medicine. Hopefully it works”

“It gets her to sleep. That’s all that matters for now…until we move again and she’s still sick”

“Well…if it makes you feel better, we haven’t had a walker incident” Glenn quickly ran over to a house knocking on the wood. “Knock on wood. We should be safe in the place we are in until the end of winter”

“Hopefully she gets better before then” Daryl states feeling Glenn pat his back in emotional response.

When the two returned “home”, Daryl prepared the meat for Hershel to get cooking on the makeshift stove they made in the fireplace. He got all the meat prepared so that he could clean himself up before taking the can of water off the brick near the fire so it was hot enough for the tea Carl found in the previous place before they left. He had heard from Hershel that tea could help so before they left, he searched the kitchen and found a few boxes before handing them to Daryl.

Daryl made his way back into the bedroom listening to the soft snores escaping the woman he cares so much for. He sets the can on the nightstand putting the tea bag in before bringing himself to sit on the edge of the bed. He knew he closed the door but he still glanced over in case someone had followed him in…he didn’t want what he was about to say to be heard by anybody but her.

“You better get better” He’s not very good at this.

“Just. Stop being sick.” Daryl scoffs a bit fiddling with his hands. “I don’t like yea when yer sick…granted never really seen yea sick” he’s REALLY not good at this.

Then a sudden giggle escaped her. Making Daryl freak slightly as he thought she was out cold. Guess she’s also a light sleeper like him. More things they have in common.

“Yea awake?”

“Am now” She whispers keeping her voice low and not using it much because her throat hurt. “You made tea?”

“Mhm! Uh. Want help?” Daryl asks watching Y/N emerge slightly from the blanket pile as he picked up the van holding it up to her lips helping her take a sip. She gently rest her hands on his wrists letting him help her but touching him in case she needs him to abruptly stop.

“thank you” Y/N smiles a bit through the grogginess and a bit of the sick pain. “you were saying?” She wanted him to continue what he was saying as his face suddenly flushed.

“I uh—-“

“It’s ok. ‘M getting sleepy again..” Y/N gently rubs her eyes as Daryl sets the can down lifting the blankets for her to lay back down before he covered her. Noticing how she would get comfy in his poncho first before the blankets.

“Holler if you need anythin’” Daryl whispers to her watching her nod but before he even got up, she grabbed his shirt.

“Can you stay?”

And no more words were said as Daryl moved to bring himself to lay down on the other side of her once he placed his crossbow on the other side of the bed. In case of emergencies.

At first the man laid on his back staring at the ceiling while Y/N faced away from him sound asleep.

Next Daryl closed his eyes as Y/N moved to lay on her back.

Then Y/N curled up into his side hiding her face toward the bed while Daryl leaned his head toward her.

Finally, Daryl subconsciously wrapped himself around Y/N as she had moved one of the blankets to cover him while she snuggled close to him. Enjoying every ounce of warmth the man emitted.

The click of a Polaroid camera was heard in the morning but it wasn’t loud enough to stir Y/N. But enough to get Daryl to glare at Maggie, Glenn, and Beth that were documenting the soft moment. Beth forced the camera into Glenn’s hands blaming it on him as she left quickly. Maggie carefully set the photo on the nightstand before quietly and quickly getting out of there with Glenn as he gently closes the door behind him. Daryl would later figure out that they only came in to check on him and Beth had found a Polaroid camera in the other room but wanted to join the two on checking on them.

Daryl sighs toward the three before looking down at Y/N who was still fast asleep through that all. He gently presses the back of his hand against her forehead no longer feeling the overwhelming burn that indicates a fever. Still a bit warm but not too alarming. He sighed once again feeling better that she was starting to get better.

The archer was about to get up, when he was tugged back down by the woman he loves. He situated himself to get comfortable again…letting her get situated in his embrace. He didn’t care if she was sick. He wasn’t going to not enjoy this moment.

“Yknow I care about yea deeply right?”

“Mhm…I care about you too” Y/N smiles against his chest knowing he wanted to also say the other thing, so she emphasized her words bringing her as close as humanely possible.

Y/N was still sick a few more days but the symptoms lessen as they went by. She didn’t even have to isolate at one point. When she was well enough to be around others, they had given the room to Lori so she would be more comfortable in a bed instead of a couch.

“Here” Daryl handed her another can of tea since the glasses were broken as he situated himself right beside Y/N. Letting her lean against him as the smallest touch made the butterflies flutter in his stomach. Making him smile out in the open toward her as she occasionally drank her tea.

“Look at what I found” Y/N whispers to Daryl showing the Polaroid taken a few days back as it made him blush looking at it. “I think it’s a keeper”

“Don’t need a picture when I’ve got yea right here” Daryl whispers to Y/N making her own blush appear as she tried to hide it behind the picture when looking up at him.

“True…but imma keep it anyway” Y/N smiles setting the can down and taking the journal out from her bag to put it in for safe keeping. Before grabbing a blanket that Daryl instantly took to cover her shoulders but she adjusted so that one half is covering him as well.

“Yer the one still recoverin’”

“Yeah but I’ve got my personal heater” She winks at the archer making that smile of his break through.

“Fine…bundle up closer then” Daryl whispers as Y/N did exactly that enjoying all it.

All of the warmth

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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thisapplepielife · 14 days

Text

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest May warm-up round.

These Keys?

Gareth is dozing at his desk, when a knock on his office door startles him awake, "Your two o'clock is here."

Gareth didn't remember having a two o'clock, but he stands up and tries to smooth out his suit. It's two sizes too big, and something Eddie found for him at a thrift store. It's ugly, but works, for now. He's just working this job selling cars, saving some goddamn money, until the band can start playing full-time. Hopefully. That's the dream, anyway.

He's not very good at it, not like Eddie would be, but Eddie was a no-go with his hair that he refused to cut to be a corporate shill, or whatever he ranted about.

There's a guy standing in the showroom, waiting. Preppy and coiffed within an inch of his life. Great.

But Gareth approaches him, because he looks like he has money. And money means the chance at a commission. So, Gareth tries to shake the cobwebs out of his brain.

"I'm Steve. We talked on the phone earlier," this guy says, and Gareth reaches out to shake his hand. He has no memory of this alleged conversation. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten so stoned with Eddie during his lunch break.

Rolling out of the van loose and faded after lunch, probably wasn't the best idea he's ever had.

But he hates this job. He can't sell cars. He knows nothing about them.

"What can I help you with, Steve?" Gareth asks, and Steve's just staring at him, definitely annoyed. What's his damn problem?

"As I said on the phone, my lease is up. I need to find out how much it will be to buy mine out, or lease something new."

"Cool. Cool. Totally, man. We can do that."

"How about this one?" Gareth asks, looking at a BMW he's never seen on the lot before. It's shiny. Really, really shiny. He runs his hand over the roof. "Pretty, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Steve says, but sounds less than enthused, crossing his arms over his chest, and it looks a little aggressive, "Well, how much? What's the mileage?"

Man, he's bitchy.

There's no sticker, but Gareth can find out how much they're asking. He'll just bullshit until then.

"It's new on the lot," Gareth says, and tries to pull up on the handle, but it doesn't budge.

"Locked, huh?" Steve asks. "Maybe you need the keys?"

Gareth presses his face to the window, to see if he can see the odometer from here, but can't.

"Yeah, I'll get the keys. I'll be right back. Wait here."

"Sure, okay. I'll be waiting," Steve snaps, and Gareth strides off towards the dealership.

When he comes back, with no keys, Steve is talking to Keith. Goddamnit.

"Do you know where the keys to this car are?" Gareth asks Keith, interrupting.

Steve pulls a set of keys out of his pocket, "These keys?"

"Where'd you get those?" Gareth asks.

"It's my car, Gareth. This is the car I drove here. The one I've been leasing from you guys for the past two years. The one I told you about, on the phone."

Keith shakes his head, disappointed, and points Gareth back towards the showroom.

He's been dismissed, and his potential commission, gone. Probably his job. A lease would have made sure they wouldn't fire him. Fuck. He didn't know that was Steve's car. How could he have known? Steve could have said something, for fuck's sake. Prick.

And now Gareth just has to stand by watching as Steve goes over the paperwork on his new car. The one Gareth definitely isn't going to sell him. Keith made sure of it.

Today's not his day.

At least it's winding to a close, and when Eddie pulls up in the van, Gareth walks toward it, relieved to be done with Keith, Steve, and this job for another day.

But then he notices that Steve is following him. Which, weird. Surely he's not gonna kick his ass over a dumb mistake. He was just a little baked. That's all.

Gareth pauses. And so does Steve.

"What?" Gareth asks.

"What, what?" Steve repeats.

"Why are you following me?" Gareth asks.

"I'm not following you," Steve says, clearly following him.

"You are."

"I'm not."

They're still arguing, this childish back and forth, when Eddie gets out and leans against the van.

"Soooo, I see you've met," Eddie says.

And they both turn to look in his direction.

"You know him?!" they both yell, in unison.

And Eddie just cackles.

"You set me up!" Gareth accuses, pointing at Eddie.

"Well, maybe. A little. But it was mainly Steve I was harassing."

And then Gareth gets it.

"This is your Steve?" Gareth asks, pointing at the preppy-looking motherfucker standing next to him.

Eddie nods, pleased with himself, clearly.

"Eddie! You lost me my commission!"

Steve is rubbing his eyebrow, "Gareth. Shoulda realized. How common could that name be?"

He's muttering quietly and Gareth is scared they've broken him.

Eddie must be pretty sure about this one, if he's already picking on him this goddamn hard.

Steve snaps out of it, suddenly striding over towards Keith.

Gareth follows.

"Hey, Gareth was helping me first. He's the one I had the appointment with, so I'd like to finish this up with him. See it through."

"But, are you, I…" Keith splutters, not wanting to let this one go, obviously, and Gareth just grins and holds out his hand for the halfway filled-out lease.

Keith hands it over, and Gareth leads Steve and Eddie back to his office.

Steve signs on the dotted line, and Gareth will be able to pay his rent for another month. And he hit his monthly bonus, right at the end of the month. Hot damn.

"Thanks, Steve," Gareth says, "Sorry we got off on the wrong foot."

Steve just lulls his head towards Eddie, "Now, we had a little help with that, didn't we?"

And Eddie just cackles, like the shitty troll he is.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Inspiration for this one, was I saw this video a couple months ago, and had to track down the original on TikTok to share it here. But: Graham, Gareth. It made sense. (And I found there were updates to the Graham debacle!!)

#corrodedcoffinfest #may warm-up: get a job #gareth stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #corroded coffin fic #ccf warm up: get a job #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #meet ugly #gareth & steve harrington #gareth and eddie are bffs

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tiredly101 · 1 year

Note

Could you do a story about reader (gn) who communicates w/ home like Wally does? Like they used to live in home like a year before Wally moved and reader moved out and came back from like college or smth and has a diff house in the neighborhood now? Like reader and home have full on conversations and Wally is just like:???

If not that completely understandable:) drink water eat ur fav food! And get sleep! ❤️❤️

Hello dearie! Thanks so much for the request, I did change some things so I hope you don't mind, and thanks for reminding me to go to sleep! But alas let's start with the fic!

Home is a language

Pairing: Wally Darling x Baker!Gender neutral Reader

Illustrated Au

Picture is from @qep0ermint!

Y/n has lived in home since they were a kid, if anything they loved the house and talking to it everyday and Home, that was the house name, definetly loved you. Home considered Y/n so kind, sweet yet hyper and that made Home overprotective of them. Maybe a tad too overprotective but they didn't mind; Y/n was sad to part ways with Home but it needed to be done since their parents needed them back home and so with a teary goodbye they left Welcome Home.

Home did get a new guest in its walls, his name is Wally Darling and it was hard not to love the guy. He was charming, calm and sweet, very creative too and soon Home took a liking to the character but never forgetting their OG roommate.

A year gas gone by and Y/n was finally back in Welcome Home, their house has finally been built and their parents were doing just fine without him again, they went to the university too! They even got a degree in baking like they always wanted and Barnaby has sent them multiple letter to let them know of how everything was going around there. They were beyond excited to meet the new neighbor that lives in Home, Barnaby said his name was William Diary? Now he remembers, his name is Wally Darling!

Y/n smiles looking at their new home while looking around their old neighborhood. Their house fitted in perfectly, it was a bit further away from the rest but it still looked perfect along the other houses. Y/n decided that they were going to walk around for a bit since the weather was crisp perfect but after some minutes of walking around they got tackled.

"Y/n! I can't believe that you are here, that you are back!!!," Screamed rather happily Barnaby, normally he would just be quieter if we compared him to Julie. Y/n chuckled and Barnaby picked them up after getting off them, y/n saw a guy behind Barnaby; he had blue hair put in a pompodur, some rainbow pants, a blue cardigan and the look was closed with a red handkerchief tied tightly on his neck. He was cute, definetly y/n's type if they had any in the first place.

"Hello, I'm Y/n L/n! You must be Wally Darling," said Y/n in a soft voice that left Wally speechless so he nodded as a response which made y/n smile while they thought something simple "so he is shy! That's adorable".

As days went by Wally and Y/n got closer, Wally actually invited y/n to his house today and was a nervous wreck. Most of his friends avoided going in his house saying that they were busy but Wally knew deep down that they were scared of Home.

"Hello Home! Long time no see," said Y/n smoothly as soon as they entered Home. Home squeaked and bang the doors in response and Wally was ready to go outside until he heard Y/n laugh.

"I know it has been a year Home! That is why I said 'long time no see' silly," said Y/n within giggle's and Home answer with some creaks from the floorboard and the windows opening and closing.

"My pops are good! Thanks for asking Home, I have really missed talking with you!," Exclaimed y/n happily while Home pulled out a chair for y/n to sit down and they did with a smile on their face. Home started talking with them and they started catching up but Wally was still standing by the entrance, confused as to what was happening.

When Y/n left Wally asked Home what was that all about and Home told him about their shared history while he undid his pompodur, letting his blue hair free.

Wally sighted while letting his head rest on top of his arms, hair flipped to a side and started smiling unconsciously. He couldn't get you out of his mind, something about today felt so domestic and he loved it. He could get used to it, with a dreamy sight he started thinking, maybe he could ask you out on a date? He should ask Barnaby tomorrow.

Here you dearie! I hope you liked it, let me know if you want a part two @whoamveye

#Welcome Home #wally darling x reader #Wally Darling #request completed #btw my request are open #Tiredly Jackie writes

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

Note

Here I come with a request after i’ve fallen in love with your writing …. How about something inspired by the song Black Treacle from the arctic monkeys? Like maybe you just moved to London in an apartment and you go up to the roof for a smoke or fresh air one night and … none other than Joe is up there, smoking ?

Again i looooove how you write, it just the perfect thing for us thirty somethings ❤️

okay SO, thank you for this request, it made my brain go SCHLOOMP and it's the first request ive done in a good while so, look what you did! (also sorry if its bad) Wordcount: 3.5K

---

Sticky Skies

Joe knew he was in trouble when he turned down hanging with a friend because it would collide with his balcony moment. Your balcony moment. He realised then, when he stayed home for it and you didn't show that night, that it had become a problem.

It took a while for it to settle within him, because for too long, he'd just wanted to believe he was being totally normal about you. His neighbour. His cute, pretty, witty neighbour that he somehow never seemed to run into outside of the moments you spent on your balconies together.

It started weeks ago. Months, if he was really honest, and he'd grown addicted way too fast. He didn't even count the first few times when you'd just smiled at each other and nothing more but a hey, or a good night, would pass your lips besides the cigarette smoke.

That first time, you'd opened the your door to an empty balcony, and immediately closed your jacket tighter around your body at the feel of the cold air. When you turned to close the door, you jumped a little when you saw your neighbour right next to you on his balcony. The banisters of either balcony might as well not have been there, if you placed two chairs next to the sides, you would practically be sharing a bench. You were close enough to touch just standing there, and so you did, out of politeness, and shook hands as you introduced yourselves.

Your neighbour seemed friendly. He had a kind face, nice hair and... big hands. None of it intimidating. Actually quite the opposite. He wore posh clothes, but, they didn't fit him right, which only made him more approachable.

Amazing. You had a kind neighbour! One that also looked... good. Hot? Good. Definitely good.

You'd only just moved in and still had get to get furniture for out there, so you leant against the cold metal, facing the door to your flat, and saw Joe copy you even though he had chairs, a small bench, a table and even a bike out on his balcony.

It was a little awkward, you didn't really say anything, but you also didn't bury yourself into your phone - neither of you did. You just stood, and smoked silent cigarettes and you stared at your own reflection in the window and would occasionally look up at the black night skies and blow up cigarette smoke into it.

It happened like that a few times, until one evening, you went out and Joe was out there too, and he immediately commented on the new chairs you'd placed outside earlier that day.

"You got chairs!"

You huffed a laugh through your nostrils, smiled and said, "I did!" before you sat down. "They're insanely uncomfortable for the price I paid," you followed in the same chipper upbeat voice, and laughed at yourself.

"They look nice, though, expensive," Joe blew out smoke and gestured behind him at all of his outdoor furniture, "This is all trash,"

You took a better look, nodded and said, "It looks it," which made Joe laugh.

Exchanging pleasantries in the dark, only illuminated by the lights from inside your flats, you smoked cigarettes and got to know each other better. You told Joe you worked in an office as an administrative assistant, very exciting stuff. Joe said he did something similar and then said he was an actor, which made you go, "Oh yea, totally the same thing, wow, we have so much in common," and you'd both laughed.

You knew the amount of rent you paid, so you immediately accused Joe of either being famous or a big fat liar, and he'd just said, "I'm sure you'll figure it out.".

So, famous, you concluded. Definitely famous.

Quick late night cigarettes on your adjoining balconies slowly turned from 5-minute quick before bed smokes to long two-hour conversations every night. You shared cigarettes if one of you ran out, would sometimes even pass the same cig back and forth for a bit, and had moved seats into the corners of your balconies so you essentially sat next to each other and talked through the metal spindles.

Joe told you about the other neighbours in your building, quietly, so none of them heard, and filled you in on who filled the halls with amazing smelling food, who would steal packages if you left them out too long, who had sex the loudest, and who complained about it the most.

You told Joe about why you'd moved into the building, about a relationship ending because your old flatmate shagged him behind your back for weeks.

Joe was shocked, said the same thing happened to him a couple of years ago. You cheersed cigarettes through the spindles, toasted to people being awful, and deemed the building you lived in the perfect spot for the heartbroken.

Right after, you both said you were actually fine, didn't want the other to think you were sad and lonely, because you didn't feel sad or lonely at all. But then neither of you mentioned that these late night cigarette chats were kind of the reason why.

"It really is a nice place, it's just... it's such a trek from the tube," you complained.

"It's a 15 minute walk," Joe chuckled.

"Not with these little legs!" to demonstrate, you took teeny tiny little quick steps around your balcony with straight legs, very obviously overdoing it for the bit.

"Is that how you walk?" Joe laughed and instantly copied you. "How do you still have functioning knees?"

If him shuffling across his balcony like an idiot didn't make you laugh, his facial expression sure did it.

It became a special thing, your balcony moments with Joe. Something you started looking forward to.

On especially cold nights, you'd drag a blanket out, and after about a month of talking, you saw Joe shiver and pushed one end of the blanket through the slats. It was a little awkward, and you both had to curl your legs up onto your seats to make it work, but then, it covered the two of you perfectly. When, after about an hour, Joe went inside to make the both of you some tea that he passed to you over the banisters, you ended up outside for far longer than you'd anticipated.

But Joe was just your neighbour, and you couldn't remember ever running into him outside. You hadn't exchanged numbers, or ever spoke about what time you'd meet again the next day - it was always accidental, sometimes right after dinner, other times just before bed, and you liked how even without setting anything up, you always found each other to end the day together.

Joe was also good looking. And very funny. Which, you know, helped.

When the temperatures softened a little, and spring slowly pushed more time into the evenings, you found yourself sitting outside just to catch the nice sunsets.

Joe caught you outside in your pyjamas, fuzzy socks, hair high up on your head and your face covered in a sheet-mask.

"Pfffff," Joe was immediately laughing at the sight of you as you were using the tips of your fingers to push the edges of the mask back onto your skin to make sure they stuck.

"Who are you and what have you done to my lovely neighbour?!"

"Yea, all right, laugh all you like," you said through narrowed eyes. "I'm going to look amazing after this, all hydrated, so moisturized," you mused and saw Joe quirk an eyebrow as he lit a cigarette. Then you saw his fingers absentmindedly find a dry patch of skin between his brows to rub at, and a smirk grew on your face.

"Hang on," you said and darted inside only to emerge seconds later, two hands unfolding another sticky sheet mask.

"Come here," you said, beckoning Joe closer to the banister with your head, and even though Joe frowned a little, he obliged and stepped closer.

"This is gonna be cold and gooey, but trust me, it'll be so nice after,"

Joe leant forward a little, cigarette held back as he closed his eyes, wholly accepting that you were about to touch his face. "Ooh that feels disgusting," he immediately commented through tight lips. "Don't talk! You'll get it in your mouth!" you said, unable to hold your giggles back.

Your fingertips softly tapped and pressed the wet fabric over every single inch of Joe's face, and Joe forgot to breathe for a moment.

You noticed how long Joe's eyelashes were, and had to be extra careful to make sure they wouldn't get trapped underneath the mask.

"Mmmh, this is like a massage," Joe said after a little while, eyes still closed, now smiling.

It was nice, being so close to Joe, having him be so open to letting you touch him all over. It made you spent way too long applying the sheet, passing your tapping finger tips all over his face twice. Cheekbones, browbones, hairline, jawline, his nose... Joe's face was nice.

You spent the rest of the night both wearing white sheet-masks, Joe trying his best not to get any of the liquid onto his cigarette until it had all dried, and you trying not to giggle every time you looked at him.

The next day, a loud knock echoed throughout your living room after you'd just walked in after work and you opened the balcony door to find Joe leaning over with a bowl of pasta.

"Here," he passed it to you, his face not giving anything away.

"Ooh, what's this?" you accepted immediately and sat down before Joe passed you a fork.

"I made too much and I'm out of town for the next four days, so I hoped I'd get you before you'd had any dinner,"

You were already munching and groaned at how great it tasted. Fuck, Joe was a good cook. This was a very welcome and a skillfully casual way of letting you know Joe wasn't going to be joining you for late night cigarettes for a few days.

"This is so great, I had an awful day but... what the fuck, I can't even remember what happened,"

Joe smiled warmly and sat down with a bowl of his own.

"Talk to me," he then said. "Why was your day so bad?"

"I honestly can't remember," you laughed, obviously joking.

For a moment you ate in silence, and then, you unleashed everything. Talked through all the shitty things. The lack of communication at work. Your new shoes that gave you blisters. The deadlines that were impossible. And Joe just listened. Ate his pasta and encouraged you to take bites in between your rambling. Joe kind of loved it. Felt like he was taking care of you a little. Fed you. Let you get all of your frustrations out. There was something cute about you when you got all worked up. He also didn't mind how you talked with your mouth full of his food. Gross, he knew, but he was weirdly into it. Couldn't explain it if he tried.

When you finished the food and your rant, you passed Joe his bowl back and asked, "Beer?" and Joe thought for a second and said, "Sure," before you both disappeared inside for a second, gathered whatever you needed for a full evening on the balcony together.

This was just what you did now. It was almost like having a flatmate. One that you didn't share your actual flat with, which, with your previous flatmate experience, was actually very nice.

You stayed out until the skies were pitch black, like molasses. You stayed out until you started getting noise complaints from neighbours, because Joe's voice carried, and your laugh was too loud. You stayed out until the temperatures dropped so much, you didn't really want to have your hands outside of your sleeves anymore.

You started noticing it was never Joe who would go inside first. It was always you who went, well, gotta get up early tomorrow.

Joe liked it too much.

None of his friends had a neighbour like he did. Sure, they had people they'd see outside in the hallways or down near the postboxes, and they'd say hi, were polite. Would sometimes run into them in the supermarket and say hi then too. But that wasn't what you and Joe had going. You'd become a very specific kind of friends. Neighbours who knew too much about each other not to at least be considered friends, Joe was sure.

And, okay, so you'd flirt with each other. But what was the big deal? There was always a banister that divided you. A barrier that you hadn't yet crossed, and Joe would wonder, would it still be like this if he did cross that barrier? He'd fantasize of going 'round and ringing your doorbell to spend an evening inside on your sofa, where it'd be warm and cozy. Or he'd dream of inviting you over for dinner instead of having to pass you a bowl of food with a weak excuse that you'd eat outside with metal spindles in between the two of you.

You never talked about dating. About your romantic lives. Joe kind of hoped the reason was that there wasn't anything to talk about. So, cue his surprise when on a Sunday evening, he caught you through the window, from the corner of his eye, on your balcony, with a man. He was just out of view from inside his flat, which was good. Joe didn't need to actually see him to know what kissing looked like.

The lack of stars that night should've warned him.

Surprised at the painful stab in his heart, Joe decided to get out. Head out, to the pub, maybe. See if some of his friends were about. He didn't need to stay inside with you out there, making out with someone that wasn't him.

Shit.

He desperately needed that to be him.

That night he let his friends talk him into confronting you tomorrow. Friends that hadn't understood this bond that Joe had with his neighbour. And then, when other friends asked him to hang out that next day, he said he couldn't, because he had plans.

But then you didn't step out onto your balcony all night, and Joe knew then, this wasn't normal.

Oh man. Joe was in serious trouble.

He imagined this is what having an addiction must feel like, where it starts interfering with your day-to-day life. Where you start saying no to seeing friends because you had secret other things to do by yourself. Like, staying out late stood on your own balcony to maybe hopefully accidentally meet your hot neighbour that you had a big fat crush on. You know, shit like that.

Joe purposefully didn't go outside for a few nights after that. Didn't need to be confronted by your absence, or your presence for that matter. Not if it was going to be you and someone else, again.

But then he had dinner out there in the sunlight with a friend and he realised how stupid he'd been.

He could be out on his balcony all day and all night if he wanted.

This was his spot.

He'd used it for smoking his cigarettes long before you'd moved in next door.

And so when a week later, he'd set up the little bench with pillows, a nice throw blanket and a fat glass of wine, he was all ready for a nice, relaxing time on his balcony by himself when suddenly, your door opened.

You made eye-contact, and for a second, you contemplated going back inside.

"Hey," Joe said when the silence lingered a little too long.

"Hi, sorry. Hi," you immediately apologised for being weird before stepping out fully and fumbling with shaky fingers to light a cigarette.

Joe eyed you carefully, and then asked if you were all right.

"Don't ask, I'll cry," you said, and chuckled humourlessly.

You kind of hoped that Joe would make a joke, would waltz right over everything, make you forget about the guy you thought might be one to stick around for a little while, if not longer, only to ghost you after you'd let him sleep over.

Men were dicks.

You needed Joe to say something dumb, to make you laugh, and then you'd be able to swiftly move on and forget about it forever.

Instead Joe got up and with his cigarette in his mouth, used both his arms to beckon you over to the banister.

You hesitated, and Joe removed his cigarette as he leant his hips against the metal bars. "Come on, in you come," and when you took a small careful step closer, Joe knew you'd be just within reach so he bent at the waist and grabbed at you with both hands, pulling you in for a hug.

It was so stupid, but you tensed under Joe's embrace and patiently waited for it to be over. Hugs between neighbours should only last two, maybe three seconds, right?

"Oh my God, relax!" Joe instructed, rubbing a flat palm strongly over your back, pushing you more into him and you exhaled. Loudly and all exaggerated. It was enough for Joe to pull back, but then he took hold of your arms and ducked down slightly to force eyecontact.

"I've got good wine," Joe then offered, eyebrows scrunched and lips spread into a caring smile.

"Ugh, yes, wine would be great," you let your shoulders slump, and Joe moved his cigarette back into his mouth before he turned to go and get you a glass.

Upon his return he nearly dropped it when he saw what you were about to do.

With one leg already flung over the banisters, you were about to hop up and fling your other leg over as well.

"What the fuck are you doing?! Stop!"

You froze, one leg dangling and Joe quickly set the glass down before you could change your mind and climb over further.

"We're on the 4th floor, are you actually joking?!" Joe's hands found your waist and he held you with strong fingers as he gently pushed you back onto your own balcony. "This is so dangerous,"

The space between your balconies was minimal, but definitely there.

"I just wanted to-" you started, and pointed behind Joe, at his bench that was laid out with nice pillows and soft blankets.

"Walk around, idiot! We have doors!" Joe interrupted, and the loudness of his voice made you flinch a little.

For a second, you and Joe just looked at each other, you now back on your own balcony, but Joe's hands still firmly holding onto your waist.

Joe then sighed, said, "Wait," and stepped back.

"Catch,"

Joe threw one of the pillows over - a risky move, you weren't the best catcher, but this one almost hit your right in the face. Joe then, much more sensibly, handed you more pillows over the banisters and instructed you to place all of them onto your chairs. The blanket followed, and then, the wine glasses.

And like Joe hadn't just told you off for trying to climb from your balcony onto his, Joe gracefully hopped and swung both legs over, landing on both feet like he'd done that a million times before. You were about to argue, let him know how unfair it was for him to not let you climb over and then deciding that jumping over himself was fine, but Joe was already arranging the pillows in your chairs.

You watched Joe move about, then before he sat down with his own glass of wine in hand, he handed you yours and told you to sit as well.

After working with one hand to drape the blanket over the both of you, you kind of looked at Joe a little bewildered.

Okay, so many not all men were dicks.

"So, will you actually cry if I ask you what's the matter?" Joe asked into his wineglass before taking a sip.

"I might," you said truthfully, but tried to dress it up as a joke. It didn't land.

"Will you let me comfort you if you do?"

"I might," you said again, this time much softer, something positive hidden within your voice.

Joe thought back to his friends who'd convinced him to just be honest with you, and he glanced up at the night sky. Black, more like black treacle than tar, with enough stars visible to persuade him to actually go ahead and do it.

He looked at your wineglass, clinked it with his own, sat back and shifted in his seat until he was comfortable.

"So," he smiled warmly, and continued, "What's wrong?"

----

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @alana4610 @emmamooney @sadbitchfangirl @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellysimagines @mybffjoe @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @thefemininemystiquee @hauntingbastille @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-joey @alizztor @thelostmoonofpooosh @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsbower @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4

(taglist currently full, sorry)

#Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn fanfiction #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fanfiction #rpf #icallhimjoey #requested

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honeyhotteoks · 2 years

Text

his sweet girl (p.sh)

summary: you and park seonghwa have an arranged relationship. he doms, you sub, and he pays for your taxi home. it's always the same until the night you both plan to indulge in each other's more intense fantasies.

note: 18+ content, minors DNI. // this fic is much more intense than my other work. please mind the tags here. seonghwa isn't mean / harming the reader, but we are dealing with more intense bdsm topics and touches of consensual non-consent, so review the tags before proceeding.

warnings: hard dom!seonghwa, sub!reader, fem!reader, role play, use of sir, impact play, punishment, dom/sub dynamics, oral (m receiving), rough oral, slapping, spitting, mocking/teasing, use of good girl/sweet girl, reader is called pet once but it isn't pet play, color system + safe words, some praise, some degradation, restraints, blindfolds, edging, light somnophilia/wake up sex, subtle breeding kink, v sweet aftercare. please let me know if i missed any.

pairings: seonghwa x reader

genre: non idol seonghwa, aged up, dom!hwa + sub!reader, smut

word count: 7.9K

my masterlist || read it on AO3

On some level, you know tonight is about letting go, about relinquishing control and trusting him, but you can’t really imagine what it will be like. It’s about trust, trusting the other person to stay within your preset boundaries and take what they want while satisfying you as well. The knowledge that the scene is set, the guardrails are in place, and both parties know when to say stop. This is what leaves you trembling on Seonghwa’s doorstep afraid to ring the bell. Discussing everything in detail is one thing, but doing it is another. He made you feel safe, always, as a friend and as a sometimes-casual lover, but opening yourselves up further was new.

You smooth your hands down the front of your skirt, shifting in your unfamiliar high heels and gripping the leather strap of your bag firmly. He had asked you to look a particular way, and of course you obliged. This is the easy part of the evening, something that still feels within your control and like the play acting you had done with him before. Taking a deep breath, you steady your nerves and ring the doorbell.

It takes a moment, and you bounce a little in your heels anxiously, before you see his shadow in the frosted glass of the window. He swings open the door and gives you a warm smile, “Hello, love,”

Your body melts, anxiety easing away instantly once you’re actually in front of him. “Hey,” you reply.

His eyes flick over you, taking in your attire, “You look perfect,”

“It’s what you wanted?” You ask, smoothing back your hair a bit where it rests in a high sleek ponytail.

He waves you in over the threshold and reaches to take your coat and bag, ready to hang them up on their designated hook by the door, “Exactly what I pictured.”

His low pleased voice sends a chill across your spine. He closes the door behind you, and you take a moment to relax into his space, tidy and organized as always, a pleasant smell of fresh laundry and lavender. When you turn to look at him again you take in his attire, he’s wearing a crisp black suit, perfectly tailored to his long lean lines. A black tie is expertly tied, secured with a silver tie pin to his clean white shirt. His hair, dark black and pushed back lets you really see his face today and admire his slightly sun kissed tan.

He gives you a warm, close-lipped smile and cocks his head to the side, “You seem a bit nervous today,” he observes.

“A little,” you confess, always keeping things honest with him, especially before a scene.

He reaches a handout to you, “Let’s relax for a while, then. Maybe some wine?”

You take his hand and let him lead you into the large, sleek kitchen at the far side of the house. “How has your week been?” he asks, pulling a bottle of red wine off the rack that hangs suspended under the cabinets.

“Busy,” you sigh, leaning against the granite countertop of the island and watching him as he moves through the kitchen to secure some glasses.

“Ah,” he nods, “so a stressful week?”

You nod, his eyes flicking up to see your response while he pours the first glass of wine, turning the bottle with a smooth motion of his wrist to stop the pour at just the right moment.

He sets two evenly poured glasses on the counter and slides one a little closer to you. “Let it breathe a moment,” he notes and then continues, “well, hopefully this weekend will help relieve some of your tension.”

You smile, a little blush heating your cheeks, “I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

“Have you?” He’s pleased, leaning against the counter with his hip, his eyes studying you.

“I always enjoy seeing you,”

“Mm,” he nods.

“How about you, how was your week?” You shift the conversation away from the innuendo.

“Productive,” he says, “but I’ve been looking forward to this too.”

He takes his wine glass up off the counter and nods towards yours, indicating that you can drink should you want to. You lift the glass eagerly, taking a long sip and letting the sharp warm flavor of the cabernet wash through you. Seonghwa takes the smallest sip, preferring to keep a clear head for any of your interactions, but keeping you comfortable and pretending to drink with you.

“Are there any alterations to what we discussed?” He asks, “Anything you want to take back off the table?”

You shake your head immediately, “No,” your mind flicks back to your week long text message exchange discussing the logistics of this weekend. Which of his fantasies you were going to newly engage with, which of yours. A detailed discussion of positions, props, and a confirmation of your safe words and the rules.

“Good,” he smiles, “that’s good,”

You take another sip of wine, “Seonghwa,”

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you don’t mind me staying the night?” It’s something you had never done before. Typically, the evenings would end, he would spend at least an hour making sure you were comfortable and decompressed from the scene, and then he would clean you up and put you in a paid for taxi. This would be the first time you’re staying.

“It’s fairly essential to our plans for tomorrow,” he laughs.

“I know,” you brush his comment off, “but I know you value your space. I just wanted to ask you before we started if you’re sure about it, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

He moves to your side, taking your free hand in his and giving you a little squeeze, “I appreciate that, love, but I’m not uncomfortable. I’m going to enjoy having you here all night,”

“Oh,” you can’t help the blush that creeps up again, the effect this man has on you with just a sharp look of his eyes or the touch of his skin.

“It’s better to keep things contained to the scene,” he says, and his voice shifts a little lower into a familiar tone, “but tomorrow is part of that, and I think after months of you being a such a good girl for me, I’d be more than pleased to give you what you want too.”

You swallow tightly, crossing your legs in the seat which does not go unnoticed by him, “Thank you,”

He nods, slow, reaching forward and brushing his delicate fingers along the side of your jaw, your cheek, running the pad of his thumb across the plush skin of your closed lips. You sigh, pleasantly and he leans over you to capture your lips in a gentle kiss.

When he pulls back and gives you a few feet of space, you reach for your wine again and watch as he politely takes another minute sip of his.

“When you’re ready,” he lets you know, “we’ll start with something familiar.”

His words from a moment ago have you tense, ready to see where the night goes. Your brain involuntarily flicks through the catalogue of things you’ve agreed on for the weekend and you swallow tightly before nodding, “I am,”

He gives you a final smile, reaching for your now empty wine glass. He pours his out before rinsing out both glasses and leaving them to the side. You know he’ll come down later and scrub them clean, but for now he seems anxious to get started and to not ruin the cuffs of his suit.

“Darling,” he says, his voice dropped into the register he favors for his harder scenes. He dries off his hands on a hand towel and turns fully towards you, “have you broken any rules this week?”

Your stomach drops, an immediate hot flush running through you. You know exactly where he plans to start things now, and you’re suddenly vibrating with anticipation. He makes it easy to lose yourself in these scenarios, and you move out of your chair to stand at the island across from him and meet his eyes, “I have, sir.”

The corner of his lip quirks into a small smile. He sets the hand towel aside neatly and rounds the island, stepping close into your space so that your back is pressed against the lip of the counter. “How many rules?”

“Just one, sir.” It was the important one though, and you know when he hears which one you’ll be in for it.

He reaches out a hand, pressing flush against your lower stomach and pressing down, “Which rule?”

“Self-pleasure, sir.” His hand against the fabric of your tight skirt has you hot already, the feeling possessive, claiming.

He shakes his head, disappointed, “How many times?”

“Just once,”

“What day?” He questions.

“Thursday,”

He clicks his tongue, irritated, “You couldn’t make it one more day? Were you that desperate?”

You nod, your hands gripping the countertop behind you.

“Tell me what you’ve earned, love.” He shifts his hand to cup your hip.

“Ten, sir.” You respond instantly, this dance a familiar one.

“Fifteen,” he shakes his head and when he sees your eyes widen, he smiles, “I’m in a giving mood.”

“Yes, sir.”

He steps away from you, taking you by the wrist and heading towards the stairs. You trail behind him, and he never once looks back to you, simply holds you tight and expecting you to keep pace with him. When you cross the threshold of his familiar bedroom, you blanch. He had prepared.

The bed, which is normally made up and fresh, looking like a hotel, is stripped bare, only the fitted sheet remaining. The rest of the blankets and bedding are folded neatly and stacked in a chair to the side, so you know he intends to make the bed before the night is over. Laid across his side are his plans for the evening, neatly presented and ready for you. Your eyes run across each of them and your body tenses at the unexpected.

Seonghwa doesn’t pause though, he simply takes his seat at the tufted bench at the foot of the bed and looks up at you. He opens his legs wider and taps his knee. This is a favorite of both of yours, something you know well, and you step forwards with every intention of dropping yourself over his knee.

“Wait,” he stops you suddenly and you freeze. He glances over you and reaches out, sliding his fingers under the hem of your skirt and dragging your tight powder blue pencil skirt up and over your hips. It rests up and over them like a cumbersome belt, but it leaves you exposed to him in just the way he likes. He taps his knee again, and you move over him.

You position yourself with your lower stomach and hips across his thigh, resting your chest on the plush mattress facing the head of the bed.

His hand drops, resting warmly on the smooth skin of your ass, palming you firmly and watching your skin redden under his touch. “Count,” he says simply, and before you can manage to say anything, his hand lifts and descends, delivering a harsh slap to your backside.

You jolt, the first hit always a surprise and you stutter out, “One,”

His fingers massage your skin again before he cracks his palm against you again.

“Two,”

By the fifth spank you can feel yourself growing slick and needy. He rests his other hand on the small of your back, stroking you softly, before delivering another blow.

“Six!” The sting rings through your tender skin, goosebumps erupting across you and you’re sure that both of your ass cheeks are red and starting to look a little swollen.

“That’s a good girl,” he hums, “always so attentive.”

Another sharp spank, “Seven,” and another, “eight, eight!”

His hand coasts down the backs of your thighs, squeezing you here too and feeling the way you jerk under his ministrations. After two more you’re panting, used to this being your stopping point, or at least a pause.

“Can you take a little more for me?” He murmurs low.

“Yes, sir,” you answer immediately, coming up on your forearms and bracing yourself.

“So eager,” he hums, and you can hear the smile in his voice. He hooks a finger under the back of your thong and pulls it up, maneuvering the fabric to the side of your wet slit, but he doesn’t touch you yet.

You bite back a plea for him to touch you, knowing it would only make him tease you longer. You dip your head down into the mattress and wait, trembling. He delivers a harsh slap, but instead of massaging the area of his hit, he sinks a finger deep into your wet heat.

You choke out a moan into the bedding, your fingers tightening, finding nothing to really grip onto. He pumps his finger, “Did you forget your words?”

“Eleven!” you cry, straining your hips back to meet the thrusts of his finger even though you know you shouldn’t.

He locks an arm down across your lower back to steady you, removing his finger and delivering two harsh, punishing spanks that elicit a startled yelp, “Settle down,” he directs.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you manage, “twelve, thirteen.”

He gently squeezes you, a little praise in this moment of tenderness before he dips two fingers inside you. Holding you locked against his knee he works his fingers inside you, pressing against the front wall of your channel and fractionally picking up the pace. You groan into the mattress and your fingers flex tighter, but you don’t dare move your hips.

“Two more,” he soothes you, “you can take two more.”

His fingers slide out, his hand comes down, harder than before and springing tears to your eyes.

“Four-fourteen,” you pant.

“And this?” He strikes you again and you shake against him.

“Fifteen, sir,”

“Very good,” his voice softens, and his hand massages your backside gently, sweeping his hand over your reddened skin softly and soothingly. “Come here,” he hooks his hands under you and starts to help you stand up off his knee.

Standing again, your legs tremble, your footing unsure, and he keeps a hand locked on your bare hip. Cool air crosses over your raw skin and you let out a shaky breath.

“You did very well,” he murmurs, reaching around you to locate the zipper of your skirt and open it up fully so he can shift the skirt down and off you now. When the rough fabric passes over your sensitive skin you let out a soft whimper, and he pauses, looking up to your eyes. He reaches up and cups your face softly, silently checking in, and you give him a small nod that he can continue, you’re just fine.

He’s a little more careful removing your skirt, but he finishes sliding it over your legs and helps you step out of it with a hand securing your forearm as he maneuvers you. He draws your hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder, pressing your hand a little so you respond to grip him more firmly to steady yourself. His fingers hook under the edges of your underwear, and he drags them down, lifting the fabric cleanly away from the raw skin of your backside to not irritate you again.

“Now,” he says, “be a good pet and get on your knees.”

You kneel immediately, using your hand on his shoulder to stay steady, but once on your knees with your feet neatly tucked under you, you move your hands to your lap and wait for his instructions. He looks you over for a moment before he repositions himself, sitting now to face you directly and planting a foot on either side of you. You know better than to assume what he wants, so you wait.

Seonghwa reaches out and touches the looped tie at the front of your sheer white blouse, he runs the fabric through his fingers and gives you a soft smile, “Should I unwrap my present?”

Your muscles clench around nothing at his words, “Please,”

“Please what?” his hand stills.

“Please, sir,” you correct yourself.

He tugs downwards and the tie comes free under his hands, parting to reveal the smooth skin of your throat and collarbones. He sighs, nodding to himself. “Hands, please,” he asks and you raise both to him. With nimble fingers he quickly unbuttons the three covered buttons on each wrist and lifts the shirt over your head carefully to toss it aside by your skirt. You’re left in nothing but a powder blue bra, intentionally selected to match the skirt and he hums pleasantly, “Pretty baby,”

You shiver at his words, staring up at him expectantly.

He reaches back and grabs something from the bed before turning to you. In his hands he holds a black blindfold. It looks more like a sleep mask, made to intentionally cover your eyes and obscure your vision from top to bottom to periphery. “Alright,” he says, “put your hands away.”

You tuck your hands under your thighs and sit back down, in this position your fingers are sandwiched between your calves and your thighs, intentionally keeping them unavailable and secured. Seonghwa reaches around you, threading your ponytail through the blindfold before settling it over you, leaving it for now on your forehead so he can continue looking into your eyes. “Tell me your colors, darling. Red,” he prompts you.

“Stop,” you reply.

“Yellow?”

“Slow down.”

“Green?”

“Go, everything’s good,” you nod.

“And if you need me to stop immediately?” He cups your jaw.

“Treasure,” you reply with your agreed upon but never used safe word.

“And if your mouth is full?”

A shiver runs over you, “Tap your thigh,”

“Very good,” he nods, “Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir.”

It’s all he needs, and the last thing you see is his sharp sparkling eyes, and a smile on his lips, before your world goes completely dark. It’s jarring, being positioned like this and unable to move or anticipate his next steps, but when you hear his belt unhooking, you’re ready.

He shifts forwards, his trousers open now and his cock standing stiff and aching. He places a hand on your face and guides you downwards, prompting you when to open your mouth. His warm soft length slides over your bottom lip, and you eagerly catch it with your tongue to slide him as far back in your mouth as you can. This position on your knees was how you had throat trained, learning to take him inch by inch and suppress your gag reflex, and now he bumps the back of your throat with ease.

With a soft tug against your ponytail, he tells you silently to begin. With slow and deliberate motion, you drag your head back and forth to take him in your mouth. Your tongue is pressed along the bottom of his shaft as you do, applying pressure where you know he wants it and hollowing out your cheeks, sucking him softly. At his first soft groan, you drop your head down and accept him fully, your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

Breathing like this is difficult, and you have to keep yourself even and regulated through your nose. His cock twitches in your mouth and you sputter, moaning softly against him.

He’s not the largest partner you’ve ever had, but he’s certainly the best lover you’ve had and the only one you’ve been able to pace yourself with and take from tip to hilt inside your mouth. You pull up and back again, sinking him in deep and when you go to move again, his hand finds the back of your head and holds you there.

You make a soft noise of surprise around him, and he holds you tighter. Instinct tells your body to push away, pull your hands free and get loose, but you center yourself calmly and breathe slowly through your nose again.

He strokes your hair then, thrusting up into your mouth just a little and you cough slightly, spluttering and struggling with the way he keeps hitting the soft spongy back of your throat and brushing against your epiglottis. He strokes the length of your ponytail, and then wraps your long hair around his fist, tugging you firmly to test the grip on your scalp. You moan around him, pressing your eyes shut despite the blindfold, your body starting to tremble.

“You can do better than this,” he says, his tone dismissive. A challenge.

With practiced motion, you take him, letting his hand in your hair guide your speed but not the intensity of your ministrations. You roll your tongue over him, tease the tip of him, use your lips to apply pressure, suck on him greedily. You speed up, ignoring the way you choke around him, ignoring the sloppy wanton sounds and focus solely on what he wants.

A tight yank on your hair pulls you up and off his cock and you gasp in a deep gulp of air. He slaps you across the cheek and shakes you by the hair, “Not good enough,” he says, his tone sounding firm and final, and he delivers another slap to your cheek.

You’re almost ashamed at the sudden rush of wetness between your thighs and the way your body is shaking with need, and he knows every button of yours to push to make it more intense. “Open,” he commands and you open your mouth wide, your held tilted up for him.

It’s quick, he spits directly into your mouth and delivers another slap to your cheek before maneuvering your head downwards. A desperate whine leaves you, and the mixture of Seonghwa’s spit and your own drips out of your mouth and onto his waiting cock before you can recover. He moves to fuck your throat with abandon now, shifting to stand and pressing you tightly against him, ignoring the soft sounds of you sputtering and choking against him.

You center yourself again, easing your throat open and relaxed, widening your jaw, your nails softly dig into the backs of your thighs, and with one hand in your hair and the other along the side of your face, he loses himself. He’s panting above you, and you know immediately that he’s close. With your eyes tightly locked shut, you focus on the pin pricks of pain where your nails dig in and the throbbing of your desperate clit. He comes suddenly, hot and salty down the back of your throat and he clutches you close to him, your jaw straining painfully and your nose pressed tightly against him.

With a sigh he pulls you free, immediately dropping the grip he had in your hair and letting you settle. You’re gasping, a little cough in your throat, but you relax and let him continue.

You come back to sensation when his fingers gently tip your head upwards, and a cool glass touches your bottom lip. “Here we are,” he murmurs softly, “drink this.”

Cool water washes down your throat, and you take several deep sips before he brings the cup away and says, “That’s my very good girl,”

In a less intense scene you might have responded, you might have begged for him to touch you, or hold you, or fuck you into the floor, but today you know you can’t. You hold your tongue, and you wait. You hear the sound of a zipper again, and belt, and realize he must be redressed now and ready to focus on you.

“Alright,” his voice is now soft closer to your ear, “let’s get you up, hmm?”

His hands slip under you and he lifts you with ease, moving around the edge of the bed to settle you directly in the center. He’s careful with you here, soft and easy, fingertips brushing along your jaw where he slapped you and massaging your scalp where he pulled your hair. He reaches under you to unclasp your bra and draw it down over your arms, casting it aside, and leaving you finally fully bare for him.

“Color?” He says softly, his hand stroking across your stomach.

“Green,” You assure him.

His hand shifts lower, and he cups your cunt in his palm, one finger dipping between your folds and teasing your entrance. “Oh, you are ready for me,” he chuckles and you shudder, willing your body not to jerk and respond too strongly to his ministrations.

He removes his hand, and you feel his weight shift off the bed before he says, “Stay still for me.”

He takes one wrist and extends your arm up, and secures something around you it. You hear him move around the bed and you slowly roll your wrist to test the feeing of it out. It’s more comfortable than you thought it would be, not the stiff leather style cuffs you’ve seen in pornography or the silky fabric you see in softer core, aesthetic scenes. It feels more like layers of thick athletic fabric and you’re grateful it doesn’t pull or pinch at your skin.

He secures the other wrist, leaving your arms up above your head and spread wide. You don’t exactly expect him to secure your legs in the way that he does. You expect a similar loop of fabric around each ankle, but instead he secures you by each thigh just above the knee, a larger and thicker loop of restraint here, holding you fully open and exposed. Nerves bubble up inside you as he checks each of the restraints again and slips a finger gently under the edge of each to ensure they aren’t too tight.

Then things go quiet. You expect him to tease you, to be verbal like he normally is or to shift more dominant and even degrade you, but instead you’re met with quiet. It stretches on and you can’t help but turn your head to the left and right, straining to see if you can hear anything at all.

It’s taking too long, minutes pass, and you’re not even confident at this point that he’s even still in the room with you. You don’t want to break the scene, but you’re nervous now. The absolute lack of visibility and your tight restrained position has you so vulnerable you can barely breathe. “Seonghwa?” You know you shouldn’t address him by name, but the nerves get the better of you.

He doesn’t respond, but suddenly you feel a brush along your inner thigh and you jerk, startled at the sensation of what feels like a fine brush coasting gently up your skin. His voice murmurs, honeyed and soft, “Shh, shh, you’re safe.”

The brush runs up each thigh, across your pubic bone, over your stomach, and repeats. The sensation has you straining, your hips making subtle jerks instinctively, aching to be touched more now that you know he hasn’t left you.

He repeats his pattern again and again, until he shifts, the brush ever so slightly running over your exposed clit. You whine, rolling your head back and gripping the straps of your wrist restraints. He teases you like this for what feels like forever, but he eventually lifts the brush away. “You’re so wet,” he hums pleasantly, “is this all for me?”

You swallow, your throat dry, “Yes, sir.”

“Very good.”

You swallow tightly again but choke out a gasp at the next touch against your inner thighs has you shaking. It takes you a few moments to work it out, with the way that he’s teasing, but you realize quickly he’s traded the brush for a feather and the new sensations have you trembling again.

You want his hands on you, his fingers, his mouth, but you know that once you start begging he’ll make this longer and harder for you. He’s already come, and he’ll stay perfectly in control for as long as he wants to. He takes his time again with the feather, passing it over every inch of your body, focusing special attention to your pebbled nipples and trembling core.

You know he’s done playing when he moves the feather away and you feel his weight descend on the bed between your wrenched open legs. You know he’s going to touch you, but how you can’t predict. Something firm lands directly on your clit and you arch back instinctively, but he keeps in pressed down. You rock your hips slightly, testing the feeling, but he clicks his tongue in disapproval and you stop immediately. At the sudden wave of vibration from the object pressed against you, you can’t help but cry out and jerk up against your restraints.

Seonghwa pushes the vibrator more tightly against your clit and lays a firm hand on one of your open thighs. “Don’t you dare come.”

The sound that leaves you is broken, keening, and you try to back your hips up and away from the vibrator, but he holds you steady and presses it more firmly against your swollen nub. “Please, please,” you manage, panting.

“You’ll come when I tell you and not a second before.” His voice is stern, curt, and runs a shock of pleasure up your spine.

You focus hard, gritting your teeth and laying your head back against the mattress. Your nails dig into your palms, your body trembles, and you do your best to keep things at bay. He circles the vibrator hard against you and you moan out, a breathy wet sob of desperation.

He brings you up, placing you high on the pedestal of your orgasm, and works you there until he’s sure you can’t take another single second. With a pleased tone he commands you, “Come.”

Your body tightens, and you let the feeling crash over you, crying out when you feel two of his fingers push up deep inside you to help push you over the edge. No doubt your words are incoherent, your body shaking uncontrollably.

The vibrator lifts as you start to come down, but his fingers pick up speed. “Again,” he says.

You shake your head, desperate and confused, the heady feeling of your orgasm holding you still, but he’s relentless the way he pushes inside you. His hand stays locked tight to you, sharp thrusts cresting you upwards again, “There we go,” he says as you cry, “again, again.”

You’ve never felt anything like this, a sharp snap inside you that leaves you writhing, your wrists tugging at your restraints and your thighs attempting to snap closed but completely unable. He has you open and ready, and he has no intention of stopping. He’s talking to you, but you can’t hear him through the haze, his fingers slow, and when he’s sure you’ve come twice he slides them out and brushes his hands along your thighs soft and slow.

When you hear the sound of his belt again and the rustle of fabric, your body locks up. You’re still shaking from his hour of slow burn pleasure, and you can barely breathe, nerves igniting at what is coming next.

“Color?” Seonghwa confirms, one hand coming back to rest on your thigh.

You want to keep up, you want to give him exactly what he wants, but the breath is tight in your chest, “Yellow,”

“Alright,” he murmurs, his hands leaving you and you sigh, focused instead of recovering your breath slowly and breathing through the sudden wave of nerves.

He settles down next to you, stretched long by your side, and rests his hand warmly on your stomach, “Deep breaths,” he murmurs.

You follow his lead and as he softly strokes you with his thumb and gives you the time, you start to settle back into yourself. You want so badly to see him, loving the way he takes his time with you and the way he looks at you and your body, but he wanted you like this so badly that you just hope you’re giving him what he needs.

“Color?” he checks again.

“Green,” you nod, “I’m okay,”

He shifts away immediately, settling back between your open legs. “Are you?” He asks again, but his voice has taken back on a hardened edge.

“Yes, sir,”

“Then I have more work to do,” he says, and his hand connects with your clit, rubbing quick circles into your oversensitive nub.

Tears spring to your eyes instantly, and your muscles clench around nothing, your hips rocking up and against his hand, body panting and desperate in an instant. Heat rushes over you and you spasm, pulling again against the taut restraints. As you come up again, he pulls back suddenly and you whine, craning your head up even though you know you won’t be able to see him. His body descends over you, and you feel now that he’s naked and hard against you. His stiff cock connects with your clit and he rolls his hips over you to drag it back and forth, your body shuddering in response.

“Oh God,” you shake your head, “Please, please,”

His hand connects with your jaw, holding you firmly, “Please, who?”

“Sir!” You recover yourself, “Please sir, please I can’t,”

“You can’t?” He mocks, dropping his hips lower.

You’re torn in two, desperate for him inside you and overstimulated enough that you can barely think of him touching you again. His breath fans across your cheek, his teeth nip at your ear and when his voice comes low and harsh, “Is my sweet girl too tired?”

The sound that leaves you is nothing but a stuttering mess and your hips jerk up desperately, pressing the head of his cock against your fluttering hole. He makes a pleased sound in your ear and sinks home, locking your hips tight together and groaning against you now that he’s finally inside you. Your legs try to force themselves shut again, but it does nothing and he responds with a pointed and firm thrust.

“What a mess,” he says, thrusting into you faster, “all laid out for me like this.”

You can’t form thoughts, nothing coherent anyways, the sensation of him dragging perfectly inside you and his pubic bone connecting with your clit on every downwards strike making you arch against him. You’re nothing but a moaning mess, holding onto the wrist restraints in your hands for dear life, and letting him take his fill.

“Did I fuck you dumb, sweet girl?” His hand sinks into your hair and he pulls down again, baring your throat and twisting your position tighter.

Tense sore pleasure knots inside you, tears hot in your eyes, and nothing in the world has ever felt quite like this. His pace above you starts to quicken and you know he can’t be far, but you haven’t found the words to answer him.

He catches one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, just hard enough to shock your brain and have you twisting away from him despite the weight of his body over yours. “I asked you a question,” he growls in your ear, his thrusts turning more forceful.

There’s no chance you’ll be able to answer, and you shake your head, “I can’t,”

He doesn’t respond, just grips your hair and your side tightly in his hands and fucks you faster, his shaky soft groans telling you he’s close. “Where do you want it?” He asks suddenly, his hand against your face again.

“Wh-what?” He’s never asked you before, only told you.

“Where should I come? Tell me,”

You clench around him, the knot tightening and blood rushing to your head, the only thing that connects in your brain is this final need, “Inside, inside, please, please,”

“You didn’t say sir,” He says, firm, and you tumble into another orgasm, the strike of pleasure catching you by surprise. He pulls out of you suddenly and you’re spasming around nothing, and you cry at the sudden change of sensation. “Fuck,” he pants above you and he grips your thigh tightly in his hand before releasing hot across your belly.

In the aftershocks, you’re shaking more than you ever have before, your fingertips slightly numb from their raised position and your legs surely unusable. He’s quiet, and you’re not sure if it’s really over until you feel the damp warm towel against your skin as he cleans you up.

He releases the tie on one of your thighs, then the other, and your legs fall slack against the bed, a deep ache in your hips as you let them straighten out. He releases one wrist, then the other, and your hands drop down above your head. Softly, he slips the blindfold off and comes to sit by your side, his thumbs wiping away the stray tears. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead and cups your cheek. When your eyes finally flutter open he smiles, “There you are, darling.”

“Hi,” you manage, weakly.

“You did so beautifully,” he caresses your cheek.

“It was,” you shift your arms and wince, the pins and needles springing up them instantly at the slight shift. His eyes flick upwards to assess and he deftly takes one arm in his hands, massaging soft circles into your flesh to wake it back up and give you some sensation. As he takes the other arm you finish your thought, “was it what you wanted?”

He nods, “it was better than I could have ever imagined,”

His warm words fill you with comfort and you stretch your tired limbs, shifting slightly to rest one hand on his bare thigh and look up at him, “Yeah?”

“You’re perfect,” he leans over you, pressing a warm kiss against your lips, “I wish you could have seen yourself, you looked…”

You blush and he brushes his hands across you, warmly up your back, massaging your thighs, planting kisses along your skin as he does. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

In truth, you’re sore, stiff, and exhausted, but you also feel boneless, sated, and perfectly dazed. “Good,” you settle on.

He smiles again, “Stay here for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

You nod, and watch him go. He pulls a pair of boxers on disappears into the bathroom. You hear the sound of the bathtub filling, and the sound of the shower, and you rest in the center of the bed while he’s gone. You close your eyes, content to rest and stay exactly as you are, but he returns.

When he does, he eases you up into his arms and you open your eyes. He’s freshly showered, his hair wet and pushed back, and he smells clean, his skin soft against yours. He carries you cradled against his chest into the large bathroom and eases you down into the warm water of the tub.

You hiss at the contact of the water against your backside, still sore from earlier, the heat from the water only making it sting, but you know once you’re submerged it will fade. He settles you against one side of the large tub and comes to rest behind you, outside the water, but with his arms looping around you and holding you beneath the warmth.

“Feel better?” He murmurs against your hair.

“Perfect,” you reply, letting your eyes slip closed.

He kisses your temple and rests here with you for a few moments before slowly unwinding his arms, “Take your time, and when you’re ready we’ll get you to bed.”

He’s perfect like this, you think. Kind and gentle, attuned to your needs like the best of lovers should be. He leaves you to your space, knowing that you need time to come out of the headspace of the scene and back to yourself. Easing yourself back, you take stock of how your body feels and slowly wash up. You ease yourself out of the bath once you’re ready, wrapping a fluffy white towel around yourself. You need to take it slow, you realize immediately, your hips are sore and your legs are still a bit shaky, but you can manage.

When you cross the threshold of the bedroom out of the master bathroom suite, Seonghwa jumps up from his position reclining on the now made bed. “You should have called me,” he crosses the room for you.

“I’m okay,” you squeeze his hand, “I promise, just a little tired.”

He still doesn’t listen, and moves with you to your side of the bed, pulling back the covers and then tucking you in once you’re laying down. “There’s water here,” he hands you a glass, “are you hungry at all?”

You shake your head, “No, I’m okay,” You take a deep gulp of water and sigh, sleep pulling at you already.

“Alright,” he seems anxious all of a sudden, fussy, and he clicks the lights off except for the opposite bed side table before slipping into bed beside you.

“You’re staying here?” The words leave you before you can stop yourself, surprised. Despite how often you’ve slept together, you’ve never actually spent the night together.

“Would you be comfortable with that?” He asks.

“Of course,” you roll towards him, “you just caught me off guard, but I’d love it if you’d stay.”

He visibly relaxes, sinking back into the pillows and resting a hand on yours, “If you’re here, I’d like to keep you close.”

After the intensity of the night, his words fill you with warmth and you shift closer, “Then come here,” you tug on his arm slightly.

He slides over, wrapping around you, cupping you agains this chest. He runs his fingers through your damp hair and down your back, a repeated comforting pattern, “Can I get you anything else?”

You shake your head against him, “Just hold me awhile,”

“I’m not going anywhere,” his voice, low and soft eases you.

It doesn’t take long for your body to melt into the covers, feeling more spent than you’ve ever felt before, Seonghwa’s steady arms around you and solid heartbeat against your cheek.

When you wake it happens slowly, and it takes you a while for your mind to catch up and understand the sensations you’re feeling. When your brain does connect, it’s to the realization that Seonghwa’s fingers are inside you, pumping slowly and massaging your clit softly to spark your wet arousal.

Pleasure ripples up your spine and you softly moan, stretching your hips down slightly and curling into the pillow under your cheek. You don’t open your eyes quite yet, intoxicated by the sensation of him touching you.

His fingers slide out, and he softly raises one of your legs, opening you up and gently letting you stretch onto your back. His hands drift across your skin gently, running slowly from your breasts down your stomach, across your thighs and dipping back to slowly tease you, ease you open and pliant with practiced circles with the pads of his fingers against your nub.

You keep your eyes closed despite the soft pants that leave you, the needy shifts of your hips. You wanted him to take you like this, you always had.

You feel as he descends over you, gently opening your legs wider, lifting one of your legs up to your side to fold you into a press position. His cock sinks into you smoothly, your body slick and ready for him, but the sudden sensation of being filled has you moaning in earnest, and your eyes snap open. “Hwa,” you groan, but he claps a hand over your mouth and holds your face to the pillow below you.

You let out a startled squeak, but he keeps his hand locked in place over your mouth as he starts to thrust into you. He shushes you, “Go back to sleep baby,”

Pleasure knots deep in your belly at his words, but you play along, shaking your head against his palm and blinking up at him.

“Sleep,” he directs softly again, his voice almost a whisper in the dark room, “I just need you for a minute,”

Your eyes flutter shut and you let out a muffled moan against his palm. He keeps up his pace, and you feel your body clenching around him already. When you groan, your eyes flying open again, he presses his hand harder against your lips.

“Shh,” he hushes you, “just rest and let me fill you up, sweet girl.”

Your hands fist themselves in the sheets below you and you moan again. He drops down a little lower, pressing kisses to your temple as he fucks you, and he keeps murmuring against your skin, “I’ll give you what you need,”

The feeling of him is warm and hard, rhythmically stroking you in the perfect spot at a deliciously slow and steady pace. He whispers more, promises in the hollow of your ear, but you crash over the edge into your orgasm when he says, “I’ll fill you up every night sweet girl, every night until it sticks.”

You grip onto him suddenly, holding him tight to you as your body spasms and jerks against him, pleasure washing over you and sending sparks of heat down your limbs. He follows you quickly, thrusting into your fluttering muscles and spilling himself deep inside you, locking your hips together when he starts to come and just rocking his hips tightly against yours.

“That’s a good girl,” his hand slips away from your mouth, and he peppers kisses across your face.

You feel utterly boneless and pliant, and you groan when he pulls out of you and shifts to spoon you again, holding your slick body against his. He dips his fingers between your legs though, and presses inside you with two fingers, kissing your shoulder. With his opposite hand he wraps around you starts to gently massage your clit again, heat spreading fast across you.

“There we go,” he nuzzles you softly, “we’ll keep this right where it belongs,”

Your head drops back against him, and you let him work you quickly up over into another soft and shuddering orgasm, your body weightless now against him. He keeps his fingers inside you for just a few moments longer, and then slips out of you, kissing your shoulder repeatedly and stroking you gently. He murmurs soft to you, “How’s my girl?”

“So good,” you sigh, cuddling back against him.

“Is that what you wanted, love?” He asks, massaging your hip gently.

You nod, sated and ready again for more sleep.

“Good,” he holds you close, “I don’t know about you, but I think we could try that again.”

“Mm,” you nod and sigh, “anytime.”

He chuckles, “And last night?”

“Definitely,” you assure him, squeezing one of his forearms that wraps around you, “I think I liked it,”

“Did you?” He pulls the covers up over you higher.

“A lot,” you admit, and he all but purrs in satisfaction behind you. “Did you like this?”

“Very much,” he sweeps a hand low over your belly and spreads his fingers wide to cup you gently, “possibly too much.”

Seonghwa sighs behind you, and you can feel him relaxing against your back, spent from the evening before and this early morning, and you softly hiss the available patch of skin on the arm wrapped around your shoulders, “Let’s sleep then,”

“Mm,” he agrees, then says, “can I wake you up again?”

“Anytime,” you smile, “you can have me anytime.”

“Then sleep,” his deep warm voice murmurs, “you’ll need your rest for next time.”

#ateez #seonghwa #park seonghwa #ateez ff #ateez fic #ateez smut #seonghwa fic #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa smut #honeyhotteoks fics

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nc-vb · 11 months

Text

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

I just wanted to write something so we could touch his lil hip windows, ok... just once...

pairing -> sampo x gn!reader

warnings -> sfw, no pronouns or names used (reader is called "chief" by the kids), description of frostbite (skin type-inclusive), non-sexual intimacy & non-sexual nudity.

notes -> love me a big n beefy dummy with hip windows. also if anyone’s familiar with salvatore ferragamo’s cologne collection, yeah, this is how i imagine Sampo smells. soooo good. also, frostbite really sucks, so pls always dress according to the weather! (advice i give in the middle of Canadian summer…) -> for most skin types, frostbite will make it turn purplish, so i’ve left things ambiguous as best as i can ;-;

wc -> 4.6k

There’s only so much time in a day you’d ever allot towards thumb-twiddling and pooch-screwing. With all your responsibilities pulling each of your limbs in all different directions at all times of the day, you’d already overextended yourself far past what the definition of “comfortability” supplied— taking breaks? Out of the question. You’d been lucky enough to fit in even five minutes to eat a proper meal or two each day, leaving you little else room to be able to drop the ball.

Life in Belobog already made sure for you that being comfortable was the last item on your daily itinerary to address. Being reliable, being helpful, and supplying for those either less fortunate or less able than yourself, is what has always mattered. And doing so on a timely basis has always been important to you. Natasha’s patients, nor the miners you’d been a ward for, couldn’t afford to wait. And since taking up the mantle, you’d always managed to make good on any promises made, making this the very first time you’d ever been tardy. Five minutes is acceptable. Even a half an hour. But two hours late for your delivery? It certainly isn’t your fault. And anyone who knows you well enough would find only concern for such a change in character.

“… g-gatekeeping c-c-conman… d-damn it.” You dip your chin further into your scarf and blow, the hot air warming your chest for but a moment. “C-Could’ve taken me with him this time, but n-no… Gotta play b-both sides… m-make me wait in the c-cold like this…”

You tell yourself you should’ve known better at least every other time you’re left waiting for him out front your shack of a home— somehow, it’s even colder on the inside, like being incapsulated by one of the ice needles decorating the outskirts of Belobog, and so, you wait for him on your stoop, clad in the thickest clothing within your possession and blowing temporary heat into your bare palms.

It isn’t like Sampo Koski to not show up late to a party, or a meeting, or a goods exchange, probably even to use the bathroom— really, expecting anything different of him so late in your acquaintanceship is no more unintelligent than believing he’d go cold turkey and abandon his usual backhanded underhandedness for tactics a little more honest. Then again, the man still owes you nearly three thousand Shield from almost a month ago, and has almost every excuse in the book prepared in order to stall in paying it back…

He’s always late. He’s never not been late. But he’s never been this late.

Beneath your chilled bones and deep within your chest, something pulses with worry. Worry? I’m worried?

Maybe. Maybe because, with all his usual fooling around done up in the Overworld, he’d finally gotten caught by those Silvermane Guards— a great cause for your concern considering this would mean losing your intermediary between Belobog’s attic and its basement; having Sampo take care of your shipments lifted a massive weight off your back while you managed your other responsibilities, and in exchange, his debts owed to you slowly knocked themselves away. This would be bad news for sure, losing such a valuable partner. But somewhere along the line, things blurred, and eventually, it was no longer just business that you spoke of with him.

A funny joke or two he’d heard while up in the Overworld that he couldn’t not share with you. An incident he’d missed that was too entertaining not to share with him. A new treat you’d made for the kids of Hook’s adventure squad that’d been devoured in seconds, and the fact that you’d managed to save a couple for him to try.

Despite how easily insufferable he could be, he’d become a friend, one you found yourself silently fretting over, even after his return. And losing your friend is not the business agreement you’d made with him.

Or is it more than friendship…

The longer you sit in the cold, the more glaringly obvious the possibility of this actually having happened, is. He’s usually quite cautious, a grand coward if you’d ever known one; protecting his own hide has always been priority number one. So, you know he can run away just fine; you know those regular old Silvermane Guards wouldn’t be able to get him on their own, so was it Gepard? Or that Bronya woman? Sure, Sampo’s strong, himself, but against either of those two?

Your stomach clenches at the thought.

What if the half-hearted promise of being careful was the last thing you’d heard from him, after all? What if you’d never get a chance to have his infectious enthusiasm rub off on you, or never again hear about a business venture gone hilariously wrong? No more little bags of your favourite Overworld bonbons brought back as a souvenir, the ones the two of you would share together before the fire, and fight over when it came time for who got to have the last of the best kind?

“Sampo…” You pull your knees a little tighter into your chest, lips tucked into them and trembling into a frown.

Inhaling deeply, you release the breath just as fast, appearing as a white cloud before your lips. The frost that normally seeps through the border between Belobog’s two worlds is bitter enough, but on either end, all its people suffered from the unavoidably devastating chill contained within its atmosphere during the more wintery months. It says a lot considering it’s practically winter all the time, only less so in certain regions. But no one would be spared by it, and no amount of extra layering could possibly quell it— this, you learned quite quickly as a child.

Before Belobog’s Supreme Guardian made the decision to split apart the world into two hemispheres, your family had been prominent figures of Belobog society, known of in equal regard by those in the Overworld and those in the Underworld. Even after the Fragmentum managed to take the lives of those in your family —sparing you, for no easily explainable reason — you swore to honour them and the people of Belobog through provisional access.

When an entrance was found not too long after the segregation process began, additional supply trading reopened past what the Overworld provided— unliveable quantities of food and medical supplies that had innocents suffering. Despite your, at the time, young age, you’d realized that if you hadn’t survived the Fragmentum attack, this trade opportunity might not have been possible. “There’s power in a name,” Sampo once told you. “That’s why I’ve never lied when asked about mine!”

Now, you huff out a laugh at the memory of you asking if he’d been sure it wasn’t actually his ego, and pause upon recognizing how off-course your thoughts had gotten. Your point is, back when life was more comfortable and of less ache and agony, you could afford to fuel your fireplace, and there was no shortage of warmth. The arms of your family that would hold you were hot to the touch from having stood only a couple of feet from flickering flames; blankets were whole and left unpatched and thereby let no cold in— things are different now. With the last of your available firewood, your makeshift campfire stopped burning about an hour ago, and your last blanket, barely left in one piece, absorbed too much chill in the air and barely served well enough as a cushion beneath your frozen rear, you’ve been sitting for far too long, waiting for someone who might not even be coming back…

“… tired,” you mumble to yourself. You can feel yourself slipping, not just along the blanket, but into what your brain manages to suspect is hypothermia. “Sampo…”

Before your body completely gives out on you and your eyes shut all the way, you hear fast-moving scuffling coming from behind you — footsteps — that reaches you in time to catch you by your shoulders.

You jolt, from the contact, and from the pain the contact brings— like you’d been pricked by a handful of Natasha’s syringes, or like being electrocuted, all in one concentrated area. A sound no less like a yowl of a cat escapes you, and your glossed-over eyes widen as far as your face’s frozen muscles allow.

“I’m… really late this time… aren’t I,” a familiar voice realizes, tone unquestioning of his words. He doesn’t have to be in your vision to know whose voice it is, but he graces you anyway, leaning over and around your shoulder so that him and his head of violet hair take up almost ninety percent of it.

You’re stiff. If not for the cold freezing your frown in place, you don’t think you could muster a glare for him otherwise. Stare lidded and eyebrows furrowed; cold-paled, downturned, chapped lips spread thin into a line so taut, a split of red forms down the middle of them. His own lips part, his grimace deepening.

“Bit,” you answer, and the blanket wrapped around your shoulders falls away, your fingers finally too burnt to hold it up any longer. Beneath it, you’d been wearing a thick, woollen sweater, with two other layers under it, and two pairs of pants. Your scarf hadn’t nearly been as thick as your sweater, nor did it really do its job of keeping your neck warm, and your winter socks had been worn out from use for almost two seasons now. You suppose that’s what happens when you become your last priority.

Sampo winces when his gaze falls on the fingers poking out from the sleeves of your sweater. Purpling, ashy skin, particularly on the backs of your hands— he watches you struggle to unclench them, to try to straighten them out, only for your skin to pale from a lack of blood flow. Instantly, Sampo is down on a knee, his own chilled hands coming up to stop you from making yours worse.

“Easy there, pal,” he says, a nervous chuckle slipping past cheshired lips. “I think you have frostbite.”

“Prob’ly,” you murmur. “Hurts to move.”

His swallowing is harsh, eyes filling quickly with guilt the longer he stares down at you. Several times, he has to shake himself from his stupor after deciding to tend to you. It startles him to be able to feel the chill through both his gloves and your sweater, and both absentmindedly and instinctively begins rubbing from the tops of your shoulder and down to your elbows.

You bite out a gasp, one of pain when it finally sinks in that maybe, you’ve been outside for even longer than you should’ve been, and raise your hands to grab his, but even this sends a pain rippling from the tips of your fingers and into your wrists—

“Ouch, S-Sampo… Hurts.”

“Huh? It hurts? What hurts?” And he rubs your one arm once more. “This?”

“M-Mhm,” and you knock his touch away with your shoulder. He sighs, sounding almost nervous or aggravated, and drags his fingers through his bangs.

“If I stand you up, do you think you’ll have the energy to stay on your feet?”

You hum, but it isn’t a positive noise.

“Then are you okay with me carrying you? It’s probably gonna hurt again. Not like we’ve got much of a choice here, though…”

“Carry me,” you say. “Carry me to Nat’s. Don’t worry… about the pain.”

“You got it.”

Somehow you thought you’d be more frustrated. You definitely are frustrated, but for now, you find yourself blaming your lack of an explosive response on the fact that you’re numb nearly from head to toe. If you still have any ears, you wouldn’t know it since you can’t feel them. You aren’t even able to smell your favourite of Sampo’s cologne he always wears, even with him being as close to him as you are after being rewrapped in your blanket and swept up into his arms. Even your hearing is slightly dulled; you swear you can hear humming, as faint as it is, and you can’t pinpoint where it comes from— with no one else around, you easily suspect Sampo as the artist. You shouldn’t have such drastic symptoms for your senses.

“What time is it?” you finally remember to ask, albeit in a croak, your throat suddenly dried out.

“Ah, well, it was around two when I got back, and that was a half an hour ago, so… a little after two-thirty?”

You manage to sigh without making a sound.

“Thought I was outside for two hours,” you start. “I think it’s… been four hours.”

Being mostly numb, you can only tell Sampo holds you a little tighter, a little closer to him as he walks because the skin on your back prickles.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Looking up, you see his own eyes cast forward down the cobbled road— avoidance. More guilt? “I’m not trying to make an excuse, but something did happen to make me late. It wasn’t just me this time, haha…”

Another of the blurred lines. A long while ago, Sampo stopped lying to you. A funny little declaration from “business partner to business partner” until “no longer lying” turned into secret-sharing and line-crossing honest— you’d wish he’d dial it back sometimes with how honest he could be. Even now, as he tells you it wasn’t entirely his fault why he’d left you waiting out in the cold, in spite of your pain and frustration, you give him the benefit of the little doubt you held onto.

“… tell me about it later,” you say, voice only just slightly higher than a whisper. “… ‘m so cold.”

Sampo is warm. Well, warmer than you. You don’t recall there ever being a time before now that the two of you have been so close, but he radiates heat like hot coals. There’s no doubt that he’s feeling cold, himself, wearing his half-sleeved jacket and a shirt that exposes his sides so easily to the elements. But he feels warm to you; you can feel it through even your blanket as you shiver.

“Don’t you worry; Sampo’s gonna get you warm and toasty in no time.”

The rest of the walk to Natasha’s clinic is completed in silence. With you living so far away from the displaced residents of the Underworld to maintain the safety of your supplies, it’s a walk that makes avoiding curious eyes impossible, and especially those of the children who recognize you upon reaching your destination in Boulder Town.

“Ah, h-hey, kiddos!” Sampo’s greeting is shaky, and for the briefest of moments, so is he. “What’s goin’ on?”

Wary of him from your past warnings from when you and he had just been acquainted a couple of years back, they regard him with the same disdain you once did— with little Julian at the helm, they stand before the steps to Natasha’s clinic with their arms crossed and eyebrows downturned, barring his path.

“Where are you taking the chief!?” Julian demands, craning his neck to glare up at Sampo, who only blinks back.

“The… chief?”

“Chief of sweets,” you answer. “I make them sweets a lot.”

“Gotcha… Well, I’m bringing the chief to see the good doctor! We’re feeling a little under the weather, see?”

“Look how much the chief is shaking!” one of the other children exclaim. Sampo nods quickly, and attempts to shuffle up the stairs.

“That’s right! Waiting out in the cold for a long time will do that! So will you let me through?”

Julian huffs at him. “Fine! But I’m telling Boss Hook about this, and she won’t be happy about it.” Without another word or a moment of hesitation, Julian runs off, his friends in tow toward the Great Mine.

Sampo sighs, carting you up the rest of the steps in his arms before pausing.

“I gotta set you down for a sec, okay?” You nod, your body jittering in his firm hold when your feet finally touch the ground. Still cradled by his one arm and balancing you against his hip, he shoves open the door to the clinic and helps you inside by lifting you past the threshold and into his arms once more.

It’s already even warmer now, your muddled brain manages to conjure; you can’t help yourself when you snuggle back into his chest. Sampo looks to you, lips pursed, and pale cheeks reddened, before shouting away from you for Natasha. Off to the side, the door to the second floor infirmary opens, and Natasha appears, slightly breathless.

“Sampo?” she says, glancing between the two of you. “What’s with all the shouting?”

“Sorry, Nat— bit of an emergency,” he says, nodding down at you, the “emergency” in question. A single-toned note escapes you in greeting; you’d been winded after the sudden moving around you’d just done. “You got a bed?”

“I-I do, right upstairs; first to the right—” He’s quick to pass her, and even faster in climbing the staircase. Over his arm, you see Natasha following after him, her skirt hiked up half-past her calves in an attempt to keep up.

But really, you’ve never seen Sampo Koski move this fast unless he’d been running away.

You’re jostled once more, and in feeling your body separating from Sampo’s, you brace yourself for the pain that eventually comes from being lowered onto one of the clinic’s cots. Like falling dominoes, the blanket on the cot rubs into yours, which rubs into your sweater and other under layers and into your skin.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

Sampo’s muttering doesn’t go unnoticed by Natasha. For as long as she’s known him, she can’t recall a time that he’s ever behaved so… docile? In the stress of the moment, she’s not quite sure if that’s the right word to use for him, so it would have to do for now.

“So, would either of you care to tell me what’s happened, then?” she says, and pulls on a pair of dark gloves.

“I’m pretty sure it’s frostbite,” Sampo says, awhile helping to unravel your blanket off of you for her. “You were out in the cold for hours…”

Natasha gasps. “In this weather? At this temperature?”

“They’d been waiting for me, but then that happened!” he spits out, panicked. “It wasn’t my fault!” In her flurry of grabbing clean towelettes, she manages to shoot him a look of frustration.

“You did a good thing by saving those kids, Sampo, but you can’t forget your other priorities.”

“I… I didn’t!” he tries swearing. “They helped me out, so I couldn’t just leave them like that! Ahh, I’m so sorry…”

Natasha sighs, placing the collected cloths next to you on the bed. “Apologizing isn’t going to help us here, so while I get these clothes off, can you go heat up a basin of water?” He nods, almost too enthusiastically.

“A hot basin of water, got it!”

“A warm basin.”

“A warm basin of water, r-right—“

He toddles off, rounding the bed from your right and crossing the clinic with a flat bucket in hand. A deep sigh from you has Natasha glancing back at you.

“I’d apologize for him, but I’m sure you already know just how aggressive he’ll be in making it up to you once you’re better.”

Your nodding shifts the pillow beneath your head.

“He… wouldn’t have been late for no reason,” you reason. “I should’ve just come here when I realized… he wouldn’t be on time.”

“Yes, you should have.”

You clear your throat a little. “Respectfully… I don’t need a lecture about it, Nat.”

“Good.” She turns around completely and begins helping to remove your three upper layers. “You’ve lived here long enough to know the consequences of being outside in this weather— if not because of Sampo, it would be because of someone else.”

“O-Old habits die hard,” you grumble, hissing as she decides to be quick in sliding off the lower two pieces of clothing, leaving your chest exposed.

“… it definitely looks like the beginning of stage three frostbite,” Natasha says, agreeing with Sampo’s earlier prognosis. “Any longer waiting out there, you might’ve needed surgery.”

“Surgery,” you repeat. “Sounds painful.”

“It is. Especially since we’re out of the usual anesthetic.”

You neglect to tell her that you likely have hypothermia, but without announcing it, she’s already assumed this just by just your symptoms— shivering, drowsiness, the pure exhaustion reflected in your lidded gaze; in the stress of the moment, she still manages to find amusement in the way your eyelids struggle to raise when Sampo returns with the basin.

“Is this good?” Sampo asks, head inclined toward Natasha. “Is it too warm?”

“It’s good,” Nat nods, having stuck a finger in to test it. She gestures at an empty tabletop. “Go ahead and put it there.”

“Sure, okay—” Sampo pauses, eyes wide with his gaze focused to the corners, at you. Slowly does his head twist toward you, lips parting until his jaw drops, and, like earlier when he’d been running around in the cold with you, his cheeks burn with rouge. Oh, right. My clothes are gone.

Natasha’s own eyes widen in realization. She’s quick to drop your clothes to the side and step towards Sampo, and even quicker to begin shoving him out of your presence.

“H-Hey, Nat! Hold — hold on a second!”

“You can wait outside, okay?” she tells him, her voice sickeningly sweet with the tone she only ever uses when needing to be firm.

“Hey, okay, okay! I won’t look! Just—” you hear him sigh from the other side of the partition. “Just let me wait here, on the other side, alright? Please?”

“… ’t’s fine, Nat,” you pant out, your once calm heart now startled into a steady rhythm. At any rate, apparently having Sampo see you half nude on a medical cot works as a warming tool. “H-He can wait there…”

Nat relents with a sigh, with Sampo groaning in relief from the other side of the partition. You take a breath of your own, unheard over the sound of something metal dragging across the floor of the clinic— another partition.

“Just in case,” she adds.

Besides any general noises you’d often heard from within the clinic before, and the gentle of sloshing of the towelettes being rung out after being dipped into the water in the basin, there’s silence between the three of you. Natasha’s brow is is slightly furled when she carefully lays the cloths along your cold-burnt skin— like your fingers, purpling had started stretching out across it, and in more exposed areas, you’d even begun to blister. Bringing your surface temperature back up safely and slowly is the goal, she’d told you. Upon covering your chest, she clears her throat. “Sampo.”

There’s a slight squeak from the other side of the wall. “I-I wasn’t looking?!”

“Whether you were or weren’t, I need you to now. Come back in here, please.”

“Huh? W-Why?”

“I need you to handle the rest of this for me while I go look for some medicine.” She looks to you with a frown. “You aren’t feeling it now because your body is in shock, but you’ll be in a lot of pain when your temperature returns to normal. You’ll want to be asleep when it finally does.”

“Oh… okay.” The partition creaks, and Sampo slips between the two, careful not to let any other prying eyes see you. You peer down past your feet at him. “Hi.”

“… h-hi.”

Gently still, Natasha pats an unaffected part of your arm. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Take your time,” you say. “’s’not like I’m going anywhere.”

Her smile is soft; you watch her go, listening to the click of her heels until they disappear through the same doorway as earlier.

Surprisingly, Sampo is already to work— his regular gloves pulled off and shoved haphazardly into one of his pockets, he dons a pair of the clinic’s medical ones that, despite being an average size, manages to squeeze his hands almost uncomfortably so.

“You… don’t have to wear those,” you tell him. “Just Nat’s habit. You’re only putting towels on me.”

He looks down at his hands, lips pursed and his cheeks still pink. You manage a dry laugh at his expense.

“Or are you suddenly feeling self-conscious,” you muse, thinking back to earlier. “Not like anyone saw you half-naked.”

Sampo huffs at you. “J-Jeez…”

This time, you smile at him. “Is it nerves? Or guilt? Don’t feel guilty. You… you saved some kids?”

“… yeah,” he mumbles, and tears off the ill-fitting gloves to throw in the trash. “Had to help them out after they saved me. You know me,” he sings half-heartedly. “I never leave a debt unpaid…”

“Sampo, I-I’m not mad at you,” you swear. You watch him avert his gaze and pick up a towel. “Sampo. I’m just glad you’re safe.”

His eyes widen before he turns back to you. “Huh?”

“That whole time… I was worried you were hurt… or caught. Four hours is… a long time. But I was happy when you finally showed up. I was so cold that… I couldn’t tell you this… And now, I’m so sleepy that I… I just hope that what I’m saying makes sense.”

Those blurred lines… are really getting a lot clearer now, you sluggishly realize, the longer you stare up at him. His own concern for you… the way he looks at you when he does… It can’t be strictly because of his “never leave a debt unpaid” policy he just reminded you of. He’s never looked at Natasha like this, nor any of his other customers or clients.

You suddenly chuckle to yourself. “I’m not drugged up on Nat’s medicine yet, so before I take it… let me say this.” He swallows. “Your debt to me… is clear,” and his eyes widen, “as long as you stop being so reckless… and as long as we can keep helping each other… and if you can… stay with me more. Even if you’re late… I always want to see you. Always… okay?”

The towel slips from his hands. You watch him inhale, his chest seemingly puffing up with the trapped air, and drop the towel.

“W-Was… Is th-that a…? Was that…?”

“Mm… a confession,” you finish. “Yeah. It was. Been simmering on it for a while now, I think. Is that okay?”

Hand on his hip, he finally exhales, flossing through his bangs with his fingers again.

“I-I mean… yeah!” You hold in another laugh at how high his voice had broken to. “Totally fine.” He grabs another towel and throws it in the slightly steaming basin.

Sliding it from the bed, you reach out your hand for him.

“Sampo,” you call, urging him to take it. When he doesn’t, and returns his attention to the water, you reach out a little further, and instead reach for his exposed skin beneath his coat. A small yelp of surprise escapes him the second you trail your finger along his hip, and instinctively, he goes to grab your wrist to stop you until spotting how dark the flesh of your fingers has become from the cold.

“H-Hey!” he hisses lowly, face quick to become splotched with rose.

“… you’re still cold, too.”

“Sampo…”

The man jumps at Natasha’s return, careful to turn on the spot when your hand had still been resting on his one hip, even minutes later and at your insistence at warming him up.

“I at least did one, it’s not my fault!!”

#ik it's not romancy REALLY but ;-;#i love him so much.#sampo #sampo koski #sampo x reader #sampo x yn #sampo x y/n #sampo koski x reader #sampo koski x yn #sampo koski x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail

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angryschnauzer · 2 years

Text

By The Waning Crescent Moon

Summary: As an Omega you know you need to get home before your Heat starts, but when your car breaks down in the woods you need to seek refuge somewhere safe... surely a Convent will be the best place? Little do you know the nuns have long since left, only to be replaced by the worst possible thing; a pack of Werewolves. Even worse, its a full moon. Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie.

Wordcount: 4949

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Syverson x Omega Female reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Desecration of Religious artefacts, Knotting, Werewolf Sex, Monsterfucking, Unplanned Pregnancy, ABO Dynamics

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

Henry Cavill Masterlist

A/N: This story has been stuck in WIP hell for a couple of months, i originally got psyched to write an entire werewolf gangbang, but then all the bullshit in the USA happened and yeah, forced pregnancy wasn’t at the forefront of everyone’s to do list, even in fanfic. Furthermore the wolf gang was originally going to be a biker gang, but another amazing writer @sillyrabbit81 has since launched a truly amazing biker gang reverse harem fic, i decided to shelve that idea and instead sit on the original thought of werewolves for a while. I then had inspiration to make this a Syverson story, so here we go. The Were sex scene is heavily inspired by the graveyard scene between Lucy and Dracula in Bram Stokers Dracula movie, which in my opinion is one of the greatest creature feature/monsterfucking movies in the history of cinema.

By the Waning Crescent Moon

You waited at the stop light, the remote intersection of two highways high up in the hills of logging country. It was dusk, yet the sky was hidden behind obsidian clouds, heavy rain systems waiting to release their downpours in sporadic outbursts. Despite the cold rain dulling the summer evening, you were burning up. You’d stopped at the last gas station and had stocked up on a huge slush drink and a popsicle, but neither had done anything to quell the growing warmth within your body. Sat in your flimsy sundress you were at least grateful that in a moment of optimism that morning you’d dressed for good weather, even if you’d spent the day wrapped in the cardigan you’d found on the back seat. However now as you felt a droplet of sweat make its way down your neck and cleavage, you cursed and opened the window, grateful for the cool damp air against your skin.

The red light finally changed and you muttered under your breath to yourself as you pushed your old Nissan into gear;

“C’mon, lets get home” you said to no-one except yourself.

The highway grew narrow as it entered the woods, just a single lane in each direction, tall cedar trees closing in on both sides. The rain wasn’t as heavy beneath the thick canopy above you, instead there were wisps of mist clinging to the roadway’s edge.

As you continued along you felt the first pang of pain in your stomach, a cramp that grew with intensity like an old lightbulb trying to illuminate but suddenly extinguishing.

“Oh fuck…” you cursed, resting your hand on your stomach as you rubbed to ease the ache. You drove on cautiously, ignoring the rattle that was emanating from the engine, your mind elsewhere. You had only finished your last period a little over a week ago so it wasn’t that. You could feel another cramp starting to build, your concentration far from the road. That was more than likely the reason you didn’t notice the pothole, the car shook and the suspension made a deafening thunk as you hit the flooded crater without pause. With a scream you pulled your full attention back to the road, ignoring the cramp pulling at your gut as you struggled to keep the car on the road, slowing gradually until you were able to pause. The sudden understanding hit your mind as the realisation of what was happening registered. You scrambled for your phone, opening the calendar and scrolling back to the cold winter months.

A cold chill ran down your back like icy fingers against your spine. Six months. Almost to the day. Six months since your last heat.

“Shit fuck FUCK” you shouted at the rain splattered windows. How could you have missed it? As another cramp hit your stomach you curled over and rested your head against the steering wheel, at which moment your phone chimed. Peering out of one eye you looked at the screen and the reminder that had just popped up;

*Heat starting soon!!!*

“Yes, THANK YOU. 24 hours too late”

As an unmated Omega you set yourself reminders for when your heat was due, coming every six months you generally made arrangements to work from home, and ensure you loaded your purse with suppressants and painkillers so to deal with the build up. It would seem this time however you hadn’t set the reminder early enough, as you had neither medication with you, but would also explain the hot sweats and the reason you’d woken up that morning tangled in the sheets after dreaming of faceless intimacy.

With a sigh you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, before peering out of the windshield at the dark and twisting road. Engaging first gear you set off but were immediately reminded that something terminal had happened when you’d hit the hole in the asphalt, your car now leaning on the kerbside. For a moment you considered calling for a tow truck, but then the rapidly failing rational side of your brain reminded you that the truck would likely be driven by a man, and the last thing you needed when you were about to come into heat was to risk being stuck with an Alpha you didn’t know. No, you needed to try and limp your car home, at least close enough to town that you could call your roommate to come help, she’d know exactly what to do. You made it a good couple of miles at a slow pace, the road straight and gently downhill, until a hairpin bend meant you had to sharply turn the wheel. Something loudly went ‘twang’ like a spring being violently recoiled. It was quickly followed by the sound of hissing air, and the car dropped even further on the kerbside. The tell-tale thud-thud-thud of a flat tyre could be heard as you freewheeled to the side of the road, before coming to a stop on the gravel side of the highway.

You took a deep breath and let out a scream, yelling at the windshield, before your stomach cramps hit back again. They were getting closer together and you knew you needed help. Checking your phone hopefully you were still disappointed when you saw that there was still no service, more than likely due to a combination of location and the bad weather. With a sigh you stared out of the windshield and you noticed a sign on a wall;

“The Sisters of St Augustus’ Refuge” you paused, the synapses in your brain firing and finally connecting; “A CONVENT! That’s just women!”

Climbing out of your car you grabbed your purse and cardigan, holding the latter over your head in a vain attempt to keep the worst of the rain off as you started to trot up the long driveway towards the building that loomed on the horizon. You failed to notice the other sign that lay on the ground, one put up by the real estate company handling the sale of the building but has since fallen.

The driveway was considerably longer than you anticipated, and by the time you were halfway your pace had slowed, your cramps now even worse. The large wooden doors of the convent came into view as you staggered closer, the rain and sweat mixing and running into your eyes, blurring your vision. You stumbled, your no longer white Converses catching on a pebble, righting yourself before you fell flat on your face. Another two steps and another pebble, you were falling when suddenly a pair of arms caught you, the dark robes fluttering in the storm as you blacked out.

Sy sat back in his chair, his boots resting on the large table as he picked at his nails with one long claw, being able to control the change to his advantage. Walter was pacing the room, pausing to glare at the clock on the wall before returning to pacing. Sy let out a small sigh, the entire pack was antsy, anxious and ready for the turn of the full moon, however this summer storm obscuring its silver rays was turning the pack into an angry mess. August had wisely disappeared into the depths of the building and Sy was thankful for that, he and Walter would always argue over the smallest thing. Sy also glanced at the clock, his stomach growling;

“Where is Mikey with that takeout?” he muttered to himself.

A sudden increase in background noise caused both Sy and Walter to pause and look up, their nostrils flaring. August entered the room from the door that led to the private quarters, just as the large double doors to the chapel opened. The two youngest members of the pack came bustling in, Will holding the doors open as Mikey staggered along, his long black duster raincoat still dripping with rain, a now soaked bag of takeout hanging from one hand, but what caught everyone’s attention was what else he was carrying; a young woman.

The room fell into an eerie silence as Mikey stood still, waiting to gauge the reaction from the rest of the pack;

“I…I found… she passed out on the doorstep…”

There was a pause before everyone sprang into life, the men helping Mikey carry the unconscious woman in, Walter lifting her and setting her down onto the makeshift workbench they’d commandeered when they’d moved into the old building.

Sy’s eyes widened before he cursed;

“Fuck…” he dragged his hand over his face before clearing his throat; “Aug, Walt, gotta talk. Will and Mike, make sure she’s ok”

August simply raised his left eyebrow before following, Walter trudging closely behind as Sy pushed the door partially closed behind them;

“Shit, this is the last thing we need, especially tonight…”

Walter nodded;

“I agree, whatever she’s doing here, we need to get her out of here before the storm passes”

August stood in the corner of the room, his silence eventually what drew the others attention;

“August, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet on this” Sy questioned

“Maybe she’s not an Omega?” he simply shrugged; “Could just be lost or her car broken down”

“Then why is she unconscious and reek of heat scent?…” he paused… “And why…”

Sy fell silent, all three elder members of the pack’s attention rising to the tall stained glass windows, the pale light from the full moon spilling into the dark room as the clouds started to part. A simultaneous chorus of ‘fuck’ sounded around the room, before they started to change, the moonlight triggering the lupine curse within them.

They grew broader, their shoulders filling out their shirts. Jaws clenched as canine teeth elongated. The flick of fire in their eyes started to burn as the silvery rays of moonlight spread throughout the room. At first they didn’t notice the wisp of orangey vapour that curled through the small gap in the door, but as it moved around the room like a lost serpent August was the first to notice;

“What the hell is that?”

Sy and Walter followed his gaze before noticing more tendrils of the vapour, watching as it sparkled gold and copper in the moonlight. Sy gritted his teeth and pushed back the urge to fully transform, the skill he’d accomplished once he became the full Alpha leader of the pack;

“Stay here” he all but growled, stalking towards the mist and out into the hall, the sight before him stopping him in his tracks.

The young woman was awake, but was clinging to Will as she nuzzled against his neck. One of her hands curled through Mikey’s hair, pulling him to the other side of her neck. Wisps of orange vapour curled around them, seemingly emanating from her.

“BOYS!” Sy barked, both younger men trying to turn to the pack elder, but looked punch drunk.

“Uncle Sy…” Mikey muttered; “She’s… there’s something…”

Sy crossed the room lightning fast, pulling both younger men from her grasp before pushing them into a ray of moonlight as it spilt in through a side window, knowing that although the moon would turn them, it would also clear whatever was happening due to the vapour from their minds. August and Walter helped the two boys up, both elders now having almost completed their transformations, the younger turning as they stood. Sy gritted his teeth again and pushed back the urge to transform, knowing four, five full Were’s would destroy this young woman, and that someone needed to find out what the hell was happening;

“August, Walter, take Will and Mikey, go run, go hunt, anything, get all of you out of here”

The other’s paused, seemingly torn between the draw of the full moon and the pull of the young woman, but as Sy turned and growled, his eyes flashing golden they finally retreated.

Sy listened, his acute hearing picking up four sets of padded feet running across the gravel driveway and into the woods, before he turned to her;

“What the hell am i going to do with you?”

You sat on the hard surface, the blanket beneath you doing little to pad out the cold stone underneath as you watched the hulk of a man approach. You could immediately tell he was an Alpha, strong and virile, he was extremely broad with thick arms and thighs, he seemed to be 250lbs of solid muscle. Beneath the scowl on his face you could see stormy blue eyes that sometimes had a flash of gold in them, and hints of red in his thick beard. Your entire body was sweating, desperate for the touch of an Alpha. The two young Alpha’s you hadn’t been able to control yourself from scenting with had done a little to sate the heat hunger burning within you, but as this beast approached you your body burned for him.

Reaching for him your body immediately calmed the moment your hands grasped at his muscled forearms, breathing in his scent as he looked you over. When he spoke his voice was deep but soft;

“Miss, i gotta ask, but what are you?”

“Just an Omega… and i fucked up, my heat started…”

“Then why’d you come in here?”

“It said it was a convent… Nuns are women… i woulda been safe here…”

The man let out a long sigh;

“Oh honey… this wasn’t a convent of Nuns… it was a refuge for Moon Makers” he looked you up and down; “They shouldn’t have put ya on the altar…”

You were confused, you had heard the term Moon Maker before but it was so long ago you couldn’t recall exactly where. It was as if it had been a whisper you’d eavesdropped as a child, of something mothers and aunts had gossiped about with a sense of sordid envy.

Before you could dwell on that thought the storm outside blew wild, the crack of a tree could be heard and as it fell to the ground it let in a stream of moonlight right to where you lay. Bathed in the silver light the tendrils of orange mist started to swirl with vigour, and the Alpha before you let out a groan;

“Sugar, i gotta see the mark…”

He pushed you back as he stood between your legs, his large hands on your thighs as they crept beneath your short summer dress, pushing it up until your panties were visible and the fabric of your dress was bunched around your waist. His nostrils flared as he picked up your scent, the dark patch of wetness between your legs drawing him like a moth to the flame, but instead he hooked his thumb over the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down just a little until he saw your birthmark on your hip.

“The waning crescent…” he muttered

“What’s… huh? Moon Makers… Waning Crescent… I don’t understand” you were struggling to concentrate through the heat cramps, pulling the Alpha closer to you as you’d wrapped your legs around his thighs.

“Moon Makers are a special kind of Omega… the only one’s strong enough to bear the pups of a Were… the waning crescent is the shape of the birthmark they carry… shaped that way as if you breed on a full moon you’ll know if you’re carrying the pups by the time of the next waning crescent… It’s old lore, there hasn’t been a sighting of a Moon Maker for, well, almost twenty five years…”

You pulled him close, not even knowing this beast’s name, but were drawn to him. You hooked your nose beneath his chin, his soft beard rubbing against your face and you could feel him shake with restraint;

“You’re testing big Sy to the limits Sugar…”

“Sy…” you muttered, his name like a syrup on your tongue; “Sy… i’m still an Omega, and i need your help. This heat isn’t going away… i need you, as an Alpha”

Nodding, Sy cradled the back of your head. He knew what he needed to do. He just needed to get you through your heat, long enough to get you back to your home. He also had a secret, one that he’d brushed over many times when his brothers had joked about it, but an injury when he’d been in the army had meant he could no longer sire any pups with an Omega. It was something he and only he knew about, not even confessing this to Walter or August, and it had been safe in that knowledge that he’d been able to concentrate on leading the pack, without the distraction of offspring. Countless Omega’s had warmed his bed, but he’d insisted it was never the right time, not on a full moon, not the right point in their heat. Right now though, he needed to fight off his hind-brain, the part of him that wanted the Were to take over. He didn’t even consider things would be different with a Moon Maker.

He pressed his face to your neck, inhaling deeply against your scent gland, the soft dip in your clavicle, and let your scent wash over him. You were grinding against him, the slick in your panties dousing the front of his old combat pants, the thick cotton straining against his growing erection. His lips brushed against your neck as he spoke;

“Will you let me taste you? Get you ready with my tongue? Sugar… Omega, you want me to eat that pussy?”

“Sy… Alpha, please… I need it. I need you”

You were desperate; desperate for relief, desperate for pleasure. You watched as his massive hands curled around your panties as he gripped the thin cotton before with a low growl he tore the thin fabric to shreds. Licking his lips he fell to his knees between your legs, his face between your thighs as his tongue found heaven. That long thick tongue dove through your folds, lapping at your slick as he eagerly tasted your essence. Your hands fell to his head, the short buzz cut soft beneath your fingertips, but without anything to grip onto you felt lost, unable to anchor yourself. As if sensing your need Sy lifted one hand to yours, curling his fingers between your own as his piercing blue eyes never left yours, all whilst his tongue delved deep into your velvet channel. The more you cried out and wriggled the quicker he fucked you with his tongue, bringing you closer and closer to pleasure before with a final wide swipe of his tongue you came with a scream, calling out to the stars above as white hot pleasure coursed through your body and lifted your soul. Sy eagerly drank down your slick as it gushed from your channel, growling at the taste on his tongue before you finally fell back limp on the altar.

He pressed a kiss to each of your inner thighs before he moved to stand, and you watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, before unbuckling his pants and let them drop to the floor. Toeing off his boots he was standing naked before you, his cock hard and rigid, thick and uncut, the knot at the base already starting to swell. You had been with an Alpha before but never one as big as Sy was, he was almost grotesquely huge, his girth as eye watering as the length. It was an angry red, his skin flushed and he was already dripping with need;

“Omega, I need you as much as you need me, you gonna let me fill that pussy?”

You nodded, and as Sy stepped forwards you saw there was hesitation in his step;

“Sy… what is it?”

“You ever been with a Were Alpha before?”

“A Were?” you shook your head; “But i want to. I need you Sy…”

“Not sure how much longer i can hold back the change, gonna have to be quick”

“I don’t want it to be quick, i want you… all of you”

What you were agreeing to was unheard of usually, very few had ever been with a full Were, let alone a Were Alpha, you knew the pheromones could drive an Omega crazy; “Do what you need to do Alpha”

With a growl Sy pushed you back, his body covering your own as his hands grasped your wrists;

“Hold still Sugar… need to tie you down so you don’t go flying off the altar”

“Altar?! Tie me down?!”

Sy paused, his face inches from your own;

“Say so now and i’ll stop, otherwise you’ll get as you asked and i will ‘do as i need’”

Swallowing nervously you nodded, wide eyed as you watched him pull ceremonial silk ropes from two corners of the altar beneath the blanket, tying your wrists in place. You could see his fight against the change was already starting to wane, his eyes burning like fire as his elongated fingers ran down your torso before grasping at your hips. He knelt between your parted thighs, pulling you up his thighs until his tip was poised at your entrance, dousing the bulbous head with your copious slick. With a growl he pushed forwards, stretching your tight walls as he slowly filled you. The pressure in your belly was intense, a white hot heat surging through your body as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. With your back arched you struggled to let your body adjust to his size, but then you felt the rough brush of the blunt tip of a claw circle your clit, carefully teasing the sensitive pearl from beneath its hood. As the moonlight poured down over your joined bodies you felt Sy start to change, of the Were taking over.

You moved your hips, realising you were now completely stuffed with his thick cock and eager for more, opening your eyes you let out a gasp, he had changed fully. Covered in a thick layer of auburn brown fur, his body was that of a Greek mythical beast. Though his features had changed, you could still see the same eyes that had burned for you just moments before. Shoulders as wide as the altar you were being defiled upon, which continued into enormous arms, thick with muscle as massive hands gripped at your hips as he started to thrust into you. You could both watch as he filled you before pulling out and repeating, his angry red shaft glistening in the moonlight with your slick before he’d plunge deep into you again and again. Each thrust stretched you so well you knew you’d be ruined for any other man, Alpha or not.

The pleasure coursed through your body, coming with a sudden force but the Were between your thighs just fucked you straight through it, now Moon drunk and high on the literal cloud of your scent surrounding the pair of you as you were carnally joined. With his biceps and forearms bulging the beast pulled you onto his thickening shaft repeatedly, his body arched as you were stretched on your tethers, legs bent at his thighs as you felt another orgasm chasing after the last. As your body squeezed him tight he let out a mighty roar, howling at the moon as you all but pushed yourself further onto him, your fragile body a plaything for his pleasure. Through the haze of lust and sin you felt the pad of his thumb move from your hip to brush over your birthmark, your gaze immediately drawn to his fiery eyes and you realised what would happen;

“Alpha, give me your knot, i’m ready”

With a growl the Were fucked into your plyable body harder and harder, pulling you to one final orgasm, and as that crested you felt the push and plug as he filled you, his seed pumping into you as his knot plugged you tight. Your scream echoed around the ancient chapel, and the world turned black.

A loud knocking at the door pulled Tina from her bed, glaring at the apartment as she strode through it, ready to give whoever dared disturb her at this ungodly hour of the morning a piece of her mind, but as she violently opened the door she was stopped in her tracks. In the morning light a hulk of a man stood on the doormat with you - her roommate - sleeping peacefully in his arms;

“Hey… I got her address from her driving licence”

Tina immediately scooped you into her arms, carrying you to the couch;

“Where has she been? Who are you?”

“Syverson… Her car broke down outside our place in the hills. She stayed out the storm with us but was up all night, she’s completely exhausted now”

Tina checked over your pulse and it was calm and steady, pulling at your eyelids which caused you to grumble and bat away her hands before you went back to snoring on the soft couch. Turning back to the giant Alpha currently standing in your doorway she held out her hand, to which Sy gently took it, surprised at how firm her handshake was;

“One of my brothers will bring her car back in the next couple of days if that’s alright? Got a lot on for the next two days”

“Yeah, that’s fine, but if i can take your number so i can check in, i know she drives a heap of crap but it’s still hers”

“Absolutely”

Tina watched as the enormous mountain of man carefully bent down and in neat cursive writing wrote his name and number onto the small notepad on the hallway console table, before ripping it off and handing it to her.

“I’ll… i’ll be going now”

Tina narrowed her gaze;

“You… you didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

Sy turned and met Tina’s glare;

“She spent the night” he turned and paused; “You might want to check her calendar, mentioned her heat is due soon” he let out a sigh before turning back to the doorstep; “Anyway, gotta go, the moon waits for no man…”

Tina watched him go, toying with the piece of paper as his truck pulled away, before she stashed it in her wallet.

A couple of weeks later you were irritable and snapping at anyone that crossed your path. The only thing that had gone right was your car had been returned to your apartment three days after your night in the hills, the suspension fixed, the engine running beautifully. It was like it’d had a complete overhaul by an entire team of mechanics. You weren’t going to question it as it was the one stable thing now in your life. The young guy that had dropped it off had practically thrown your keys into your hands, before sprinting off and climbing into a truck driven by someone that looked so similar he could have been a brother. You vaguely recognised them, but your only clear lingering memory of your time in the hills was Sy. You weren’t even sure how to even find him again, having taken drives through the forest a number of times but never able to find that same route again.

That night you were hungry, pulling a pint of your favourite ice cream from the deep freeze. You stepped outside into the warm summer night to eat it on the pallet wood seating Tina had built on the porch outside your apartment, watching the fireflies float into the air. After a while she joined you, a beer in her hand as she sat down silently. She was your best friend and had helped you through so much, but she’d been very quiet for the past couple of weeks, almost avoiding you.

“Hey Tiny” you used her nickname, one she’d very much grown out of after 5th grade when she’d grown a foot taller than you in the space of the summer break; “Everything ok?”

“Yeah yeah, i’m good… how are you doing? You’ve been… different recently”

You stabbed at the ice cream before setting it aside;

“Haven’t felt that great to be honest. Not sure what’s up, thought my heat was coming a few weeks ago but it seemed to end abruptly after i got back from…”

“Gotcha”

Tina looked up at the sky and you followed her gaze, seeing the thin crescent of the moon;

“Looks kinda like your birthmark, the waning moon…”

She didn’t finish what she was saying as you’d suddenly bolted to the bathroom, your retching clearly audible. With a sigh she rested her elbows on her knees… fuck, what the hell had you gotten yourself into? She’d been able to tell that Syverson was a Were the second she’d opened the door, counting the days back on her fingers she finally realised that you’d been with him the first night of the full moon, when its at its most powerful, and how your heat hadn’t appeared, yet she’d been able to pick up your bonding scent as you’d slept on the couch.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” she muttered to herself, the piece of paper in her wallet almost burning a hole in her pocket. She had sworn to your mother that she’d protect you, that she wouldn’t let you continue the Were bloodlines… but she’d failed. Now she had a decision to make… but first she’d go help you throw up, no doubt there would be another eight months of it to follow, the child within you already growing.

Pulling the paper out she held it between her fingertips as she stood, heading towards the bathroom where you were, you had a phone call make.

#syverson x you #captain sy x reader #werewolf sy #alpha sy #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #captain syverson smut #Alpha sy x omega reader

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