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amywritesthings · 5 months

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new year, new choso. / choso nye fic

pairing: choso kamo x f!reader ( jujutsu kaisen ) word count: 1.9k summary: Choso Kamo has never been to a New Year's Eve party. Who knew chaperoning his kid brother to Gojo's Jujutsu High party would end up like this? tags: new year's eve kiss, nye party fluff, choso is a sweet baby angel goth, and he's wearing a suit, alcohol, mentions of cards against humanity credit: dividers by @saradika dedicated to @nube55 , @sixpennydame , and @chishiyasan xo

welcome to the final day of the twelve days of amymas !!

New Year’s Eve parties are typically not your thing.

Loud music, bustling crowds, crowded rooms with crowded strangers — the whole debacle always sounded like a recipe for disaster.

Ieiri claimed that this gathering would be different. Small.

Albeit still a party by Gojo Satoru’s standards as his entire penthouse is littered with tacky balloons, confetti, and endless amounts of blinking year-end sunglasses, but tamer than anticipated.

It’s probably something to do with the fact that said gathering included his students from Jujutsu High.

The teenagers all crowd in the dead center of the living room excitedly playing Cards Against Humanity while Gojo's colleagues and friends mingle about the main floor.

(There’s just something about watching a cursed panda argue that his cards are accurate to the prompt as opposed to the obscene and filthy winners — ironically, a silent kid with cursed speech tattoos holds the jackpot of black cards.)

You were once destined to become a sorcerer yourself, but you’d hung it up for a simpler life. Not unlike your best friend, Shoko, but not as close to the Jujutsu world.

Then again, you never really get away from this life. Not really.

(Only thirty minutes left until the new year.)

“Did you need a refill?”

The gentle question comes out of nowhere to your side, breaking your concentration of the rowdy game.

When you turn your head, you’re immediately taken by a dark-haired man with a thin, black strip covering the bridge of his nose like a blush. He wears a maroon button-up, satin to the eye, and a dark suit jacket to compliment his pale complexion. His shoulder-length dark hair is in a half up-do, fixed hastily in a tiny bun at the crown of his head.

Your first thought? He’s beautiful.

Your second thought? You find yourself staring for too long, lips parted with an answer you’ve all but forgotten.

The man blinks back at you, shuffling in the uncertain silence.

“I, uh — sorry, I probably should have said ‘hello’ like a normal person and —”

“Uh, sure, I could walk with you?” you blurt, hating yourself for the way his eyes round with his own bout of confusion. “For a refill. I’m getting kind of stiff sitting against this wall.”

He’s a stranger, even if it’s technically a friend’s party.

You’ve been taught from birth that you should take care of your own drinks — but that doesn’t mean you can’t accompany someone as alluring as him to go grab a new mixed drink.

God knows Gojo bought out the entire liquor store despite how seventy-five percent of the party can’t drink and, the irony, Gojo doesn’t drink.

(An overachiever even in the art of hosting, Shoko joked before she dipped for a smoke break.)

Right.

You're dissociating.

Back to the guy in front of you.

“And hi,” you add lamely after a beat.

The stranger fights a smile, choosing to rush a small huff of air.

“Hi. Name's Choso Kamo,” he awkwardly introduces. “And yeah, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He fidgets with a button of his dress shirt, popping it absently.

“Feels a little crowded here.”

"A little," you agree, gesturing for him to show the way.

Shoulder to shoulder you both walk to the drink table, not saying a word.

You note how the stranger — this Choso — keeps his eyes on the table of kids as they heavily debate which answer should win: the cold, dead fingers card dropped by a triumphant Kugisaki, versus the Daniel Radcliff’s delicious asshole card slipped in by a stone-faced Megumi.

“Dying to join in on the game?” you joke, trying to break the slow-building tension.

“Hmm? Oh. God, no. I’m not getting involved in that war.” The man blinks to you, his expression softening for a moment. “My kid brother’s over there.”

“Which one is he?”

Choso smiles small, clearly proud to point him out.

He fills his cup with a moderate amount of rum and soda, mixing it with a wooden stirrer.

“The pink-haired one. Yuji.”

Yuji isn’t hard to spot, not by a long shot.

He’s giggling between Megumi and Kugisaki, joyously playing moderator to the budding fight for who has the best card this round.

When you turn back to Choso, you see his smile has widened.

“He’s got his work cut out for him if he’s the Card Szarr this round," you say.

Choso laughs breathily and takes a sip. “Yeah, his friends are a little brutal. Good kids, but… opinionated.”

(As proudly displayed by the way the finalists shout at one another. Yuji laughs hard, shaking his head — only to pull a major upset by choosing the panda’s card instead.)

“He’s the only reason I’m here,” Choso adds belatedly, seemingly wishing to keep the conversation going. “I’m not exactly friends with the guy who threw this thing.”

“Who, Gojo?” you ask. He nods. “Me neither. My best friend managed to drag me out of my cave. Not sure if you know her — Shoko Iieri?”

Choso shakes his head.

“Can’t say I do. Then again, I could say that about everyone. I only really came so my brother and his friends had a chaperone home." He straightens once he's done filling his drink. "I take it you don’t normally do these things, either?”

“That’s nice of you,” you comment, filling the rest of your drink before clinking the glass to his. “And no, I kind of hate parties. Way more of a quiet environment sort of person.”

“You and me both,” he commiserates. “Believe it or not, this is my first New Year’s Eve out.”

“Really? Your first, ever?”

He nods. “It’s a little complicated. Jujutsu shit.”

The words make you accidentally bark out a laugh, startling Choso.

He warms to it, however, and laughs with you.

“Jujutsu shit is very much something I can’t seem to get away from,” you explain.

“Guess I found the one person at this party that gets me,” Choso admits with a dissolving chuckle, the black strip on his nose sprinkled with a gentle pink blush at his confession. “Yuji was pretty insistent on making it a big deal, given it’s my first real holiday outing. We spent Christmas just with the two of us this year — sorry, am I talking too much?”

You sip your drink and shake your head. “I like listening.”

It’s the truth: this man is interesting.

Clearly he’s not completely of this realm, that much you’re quite certain of, but he’s truly trying to be human.

Choso fumbles, but he’s honest about his experience.

It’s a refreshing taking on a world you’ve become so cynical about.

“I usually don’t talk this much,” he admits; his second confession of the night. He sighs and shakes his head. “Anyway, yeah. Christmas was solo, but he wanted to do this big party with his friends. Begged me to come along. New Year’s is an interesting idea, but the traditions… I don’t know.”

He squints at nothing in particular as he thinks.

“There’s so much I want to try now that I’ve got this life.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I have the drinking part down,” he tells you, glancing down at his glass and outfit. “I dressed up, though given what everyone else wore—”

Sweaters. Jeans. Nothing fancy — not like him.

“—I think I screwed that part up.”

“I think you look amazing, for what it’s worth,” you blurt, and he catches your eye with an appreciative glow.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, suits always look good.”

Choso grins, albeit briefly, yet the growing confidence lingers.

“Party games, though I’m happier to watch than play right now. Then there’s that New Year’s kiss thing?”

Oh.

He turns to you for confirmation, but you damn well know your face is on fire from the implication.

“When the clock strikes midnight, you’re supposed to kiss someone," he explains like you're new to this, too. "Make a wish or promise or whatever so that the next year is going to be better.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He leans in a fraction further, dropping his voice to a murmur. “That's what I heard, anyway.”

You’re expecting him to have a but scoot into that sentence, but he pauses to search your face for the right or wrong answer.

“I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss,” you admit — it's now your turn to confess.

His brows furrow. “Really? Never?”

You shake your head. “Maybe that’s why my years have been so shitty lately.”

Choso nods with a grave understanding. “Could be.”

A few of the teenagers cheer, abandoning the game to turn on the main television.

The clock is only a few minutes until midnight.

Three, to be exact.

Suddenly the drink in your hand becomes your life line.

“I admit that I didn’t know if you needed a refill on your drink,” Choso pipes up, slow and careful. You turn your attention from the television broadcast to look at him. “I only came here to make sure Yuji had a good time with his friends, but then I saw you come in with that woman.”

Wait, he saw you come in?

When you say nothing, he sucks in a sharp inhale to explain himself.

“I spent an hour working up the courage to come talk to you. I couldn’t think of anything to say. You’re so damn pretty, and you seemed fine hanging out by yourself or with her, and so I thought — I mean, I needed a refill and some liquid courage — so it — do you get what I’m saying?”

No, no you don’t and yes, yes you do.

“You’re very pretty yourself,” you tell him without thinking, causing his eyes to widen. Yours follow suit, rounding like saucers. “I mean — yeah, as soon as I noticed you, I thought you were attractive—”

“People go out for coffee, right?” he interrupts as if he’s been waiting all night to ask. “When they think someone is pretty, they… go out for coffee or dinner or walks.”

One minute remaining.

Choso pauses to stare into your eyes, earnest and true.

“I’d love to go out for some coffee, or whatever dinner you want, or even just a walk. Maybe. Some time. If you’re… free.”

A date.

Forty seconds until the new year, and you’ve already scored yourself a date.

“We could do one of those things,” you murmur. Choso’s face brightens. “Maybe all of them. And we could start it off with…”

Twenty seconds.

“Making a wish?” the dark-haired man suggests when you trail off, rounding towards you so he’s closer.

For someone who says he has a lot to experience, you’re surprised that he seems to cage you in with experience.

If it wasn’t for his eyes begging you to confirm that this is what you want, then you’d think maybe he was a liar.

“Yeah. For a great new year,” you explain, lifting your chin.

Ten seconds.

“For a great new year,” he exhales with a promise, leaning in.

His hand reaches to gently cup your face as though mesmerized by how soft your skin feels beneath his palm.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

The clock strikes midnight, and a pair of plush, timid lips gingerly press to yours.

You meet with an eager kiss, and you swear you feel Choso’s mouth curve into a satisfied smile against yours.

(Maybe next year really will be better.)

#choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo fluff #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #choso fanfic #choso fic #choso kamo fanfiction #choso kamo fanfic #nye fic #twelve days of amymas

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bi-bats · 10 months

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Inspiration Saturday Sunday!! I was tagged by @ladytauria 💚 thank you bestieeee 💖💖💖💖💖

Okay so uh. Sorry to my jaytim ppl but this is not gonna be jaytim???

In a WILD turn of events, I sat down to write my Jaytim reverse robins fic bc I was feeling inspired about it and I wrote the first chapter. And then by the time I got to the end of it I was like oh. Oh this is actually DamiTim. And then I just. Couldn't stop writing. I definitely am still going to write the Jaytim flavored version, so no one worry about that, but apparently, this is also happening!!

So here you are, some Nightwing!Damian/Red Hood!Tim!!!! I hope you all enjoy 💖 (context to the scene: they are on the phone at a ridiculously early hour)

“I told you already, you may scold me if you like.” “Scold you? Right now I’d like to strangle you.” “I think that would be fair.” Tim laughs, a surprised, sudden noise, and Damian wants to beam. “How is your throat?” he asks, and his voice has gone gentle, softness leaking into it. “It’s fine.” Tim's voice is icing over, losing warmth. “And your wrist?” “You left a few bruises, but nothing’s broken. Full range of motion. Does it matter?” Of course, Damian wants to say. Of course it matters. “I did not mean to hurt you.” “You never mean to,” Tim mutters, and Damian isn’t entirely sure he was meant to hear it. “What are you doing right now?” “Making coffee,” Tim sighs, irate. “Do you still take it with an obscene amount of sugar?” Damian asks, trying to get him back, trying to get his brother back. He wonders how much of the rest of his life will be spent trying to get his brother back. “No, I drink it black.” That knowledge settles painfully under his left rib. “You used to take it with so much sugar that I was concerned.” Tim scoffs. “And you still won’t touch the stuff, I’m sure? Only fine teas for the prince?” Damian squeezes his eyes shut. “I have… developed a taste for coffee.” “I bet your blend costs five thousand dollars a bean.” “I don’t think it even costs five cents a bean.” “Oh? Where do you source it?” “The bodega.” Tim snorts. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just trying to picture Damian Wayne walking into a bodega with a sword strapped to his back, digging through his pockets for enough change to afford his morning cup.” A smile curls across Damian’s lip, against his will. He is powerless to prevent it. “The owner is Egyptian. It can be nice to have a conversation in Arabic, every once in a while.” There’s a pause before Tim answers him.

“How do you take your coffee?” he asks in Arabic. “Black,” Damian responds in Arabic, feeling that same feeling he always gets when he gets to rest his English. Like collapsing onto his bed after an especially long day, remembering that his comforter and sheets and pillows were waiting for him. “I didn’t know you missed speaking Arabic.” “I never knew you spoke Arabic.” “Yes, you did,” Tim snaps, abruptly switching back to English. “You knew.” “…not when I would have had an occasion to use it.” “An occasion, are you kidding me? Any time you wanted. Any time you wanted to walk into the manor and say anything to me, you know I would have listened. I would have done anything for you, don’t you get that?” Damian sighs at himself. Why is he even doing this? Every time he thinks he finds an opening, Tim slams the door on his fingers. “Yes, I do." “You are infuriating to talk to, you know that?” “Yes,” Damian answers. “Why are you staying on the phone with me?” “Because you—” Tim groans at himself, and Damian feels like an intruder. “You always make me want more than I can have.” Before Damian can think of an answer to that, Tim has hung up.

No-pressure tagging @yasmindifference, @jpeg-dot-jpeg, @chipmunkery, and @cheetahleopard!!!

#damitim #never used that tag before #this is lowkey also a testrun to see if people actually want to read stuff from me that isn't jaytim???#also sorry I'm late to the tag I had a busy day today 💖💖💖#👸 ladytauria #also lmao tauria I def stalked ur bookmarks to see if there was any damitim in there before posting this 😂#I JUST WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU LIKED THEM BEFORE I PUT THIS AS MY ANSWER FOR YOU LMAO #batwrites #reverse robins au damitim flavor #tag games #timdami

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anincompletelist · 1 month

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twenty questions for fic writers

thanks to @cricketnationrise @happiness-of-the-pursuit @kiwiana-writes

@ninzied @captainjunglegym for the tags friends! it's been a while since I've last done one of these so I figured I would participate again! xx

how many works do you have on ao3?

56! (technically 60 though… 😏🤫)

what's your total ao3 word count?

1,248,687

what fandoms do you write for?

RWRB (currently) [ 1D and teen wolf (past) ]

top five fics by kudos:

but if you could see us from a distance you'd know I've always been so close to you - the og sex curse one shot

Something Borrowed, Something Blue - enemies to lovers at june's wedding

I'll bet it all on me and you, I'll bet it all you're bulletproof - coworkers trivia fluff

praying our bridges don't make waves - soulmates with a twist

kiss me like you've got nowhere to be - roommates to lovers fluff

do you respond to comments?

nowhere near as much as I'd like to! my capacity for social interaction lately has been... lacking, to the say the least ksjhdkshd BUT I SEE AND READ THEM ALL AND I HOLD THEM SO CLOSE <3333

what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ooh I can't usually do angsty endings so I'm carving my own loophole here -- the first two fics in the sex curse series are definitely my most angsty endings before they work their shit out in the third skjdhsjkhd

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

most of mine do, but I'd say that overall the most fluffy ones are in the firstprince first kisses series!

do you get hate on fics?

I most definitely did in my old fandom but people have been generally very kind and supportive to me here so far! :')

do you write smut?

yes!

craziest crossover:

my george x firstprince hurt/comfort is very special to me <3

(but I also have a Jeff from bottoms x Shane from minx au in the docs so ksjhdhfjh that too)

have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

have you ever had a fic translated?

not in this fandom! but I have had some lovely folks record some podfics of my works! (here and here!)

have you ever co-written a fic before?

not for rwrb! (yet???? ksjhdkjhfkjh)

all time favorite ship?

I gotta go with fp! they got me like that niall horan ear crawling gif fr I'll never be the same

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

oh gosh I'm not sure. I HOPE I finish them all but I also have an obscene amount so ksjhdksjdhf not crossing anything off yet!

what are your writing strengths?

I think dialogue? it's always the part of my fics that I write first, and then I build the rest of the story around it. I hope it's a solid foundation!

what are your writing weaknesses?

there's a fine line between explaining and over-explaining and I think sometimes I fall into the second category skjdhkjhf. I love some introspection as much as the next guy but I'm working on only including details that feel most pertinent to the story.

thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I love it! I think it can be so special and can be another way to connect readers with the characters and the story. I took Spanish all four years of high school so I'm a little rusty now, and studied French for a while a few years ago and just picked it back up recently! my translations aren't always perfect but luckily I've had some very kind people to check or point these things out for me :)

first fandom you wrote in?

..... hollywood heights sjkhdjkhgdfh

favorite fic you've written?

oh no. I am so bad at perceiving myself ksjhdjkdjfhg. I think each of my fics definitely served a purpose for me while writing them, but lately I've found myself returning to these three (I'm breaking the rules yes sorry):

Something Borrowed, Something Blue

there were pages turned with the bridges burned (everything you lose is a step you take) - diabetic!Alex

treading water in the deep, just waiting for the tides to meet -(soulmates)

but also there's a wip I'm working now which..... might take first place when I post skjdhkjsdh WE'LL SEE!

PLEASE PLEASE CONSIDER THIS OPEN TAG IF YOU'D LIKE TO DO IT! with all of the tumblr nonsense and how behind I've been on here lately I'm all over the place with tags at the moment.

other tags (no pressure!): @firenati0n @nocoastposts @wordsofhoneydew @thedramasummer

@heysweetheart-writes @stellarm @suseagull04 @bigassbowlingballhead

@eusuntgratie @magicandarchery @read-and-write- @iboatedhere

@anchoredarchangel @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @alasse9 @itsmaybitheway

@getmehighonmagic @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse

#tag games #about me

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aniseandspearmint · 1 year

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Every time I see you tag “pretty pretty” I get this really conflicted feeling. Like, I get that you’re doing that reduplication thing because the stuff you use that tag with are super pretty. But my mom’s family is non-American and where she’s from “pretty pretty” is slang for something that tries so hard to be pretty that it ends up tacky or gaudy.

(This isn’t me asking you to use different tags, btw. You tag really well and I appreciate it; I’ve just been thinking this for a while and had to get it off my chest.)

Oh, it's not a problem, knowing what other people think is interesting.

Why I started tagging things 'pretty pretty' rather than a singular 'pretty' or 'pretty things' or something like that comes from a childhood memory. This'll be slightly convoluted, sorry! XD

When I was a kid my mother raised and sold parakeets and parrots! We were also often a kind of half way house for birds people were having trouble rehoming (like the amazon parrot that screamed obscenities when she didn't get what she wanted, or the one african grey that made a DISTURBING amount of hyper realistic bodily function noises :/).

Mostly what she raised were Quakers, which are fun little parrots that, if you play your cards right are SUPER easy to teach some stock phrases to while you're hand rearing them. (Sadly they are illegal where i live now, or I would be looking into getting a few. I miss them).

My mom taught them; 'i love you!' 'up! up!' 'kisses! *exaggerated mmmWAH sound*' and 'pretty pretty!' which they would repeat in disgustingly cute squeaky little voices. They were VERY popular at the couple of decent pet shops my mom sold to (one of the things that prompted her getting out of the bird business was us moving and her not being able to vet more good shops. That and she suddenly developed a mild allergy to seed chaff).

For some reason, the 'pretty pretty!' more than anything else, caught on with all the other birds in the house. So nearly every bird, no matter what it came in knowing, would move on cheerfully yelling/chirping 'pretty pretty!'.

Parrots are smart, they caught on to the meaning of the words pretty quickly and started yelling 'pretty pretty! pretty pretty!' whenever they saw something brightly colored or shiny. Including me in some of my glittery play clothes. So i'd be running around the house in a sparkly tulle skirt waving an old pompom taped to a cardboard tube around and they'd all start yelling. It's a happy memory. ^__^

I started using the tag on fashion pics, bc it reminded me, and that sort of just migrated into a catch all tag for stuff i find warm and fuzzy levels of pretty.

#me #my life #why i tag the way i do

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miyagifangkai · 2 years

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Girls Night

Request: How about the reader has a girls night drinking and dancing and becomes extremely drunk. She calls her best friend Hawk to pick her up and confesses her feelings to him and asks him to stay the night for cuddles. In the morning she doesn’t remember her confession and wakes up in Hawk’s arms confused. Friends to lovers is one of my favorite troupes.

Tagged: @wishingtobeforeveryoung1994

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Drinking, Clubbing, Awkward flirting, Cursing, and?? I think that’s it! +characters are 21 plus+

May be some mistakes!! Haven’t proofread yet… oops lol

Characters involved: Eli/Hawk, Reader, and unnamed girlfriends

Couple Pairing: Eli/Hawk x Reader

A/N: sorry it took me so long for this. But I enjoyed writing it. I love banter between Eli and the reader lol! Thank you so much for the request I hope you enjoy! ❤️

The girls have been begging you for a month now to go on their monthly “girls night” trip to one of the most popular clubs in the city.

You had always denied going because you knew that would cause you to get extremely drunk and end up forgetting your own name. It’s not that you were a prude or anything you just had always thought it’d be best for you to stay home sober so nothing bad could happen. But you had stuck your foot in your mouth about a week ago promising that you’d go with them; so they had you caught dead to rights. Before you leave from work you get a text message, “Hey, if you need anything tonight just give me a call,” the message was from your best friend, Eli. You smile at your phone, “Don’t worry. I will call you at the slightest bit of trouble!” You pocket your phone and start walking to your car as your phone starts to ring, you see that it’s Eli calling you.

You smile and answer, “Hello, I’m sorry but Y/N isn’t available to take your call right now–”

“Oh shut up, Y/N. You’re a bully, you know that?

You cackle, “Dude, what do you want?”

“Y/N, what are you all gonna get into tonight?’

“I honestly have no idea, man. This is like only the second time I’m going but I do remember that we get crazy drunk and decide to have a great big orgy with soooo many guys,” you laugh and you can practically hear him smiling through the phone.

“You are such an asshole, Y/N.”

“I’m kidding, man. I really don’t know. As far as I know we are gonna go to a club, dance, hang out, and drink a little.”

“Okay, just be careful. Remember if you need anything–”

“Give you a call,” you interrupt his sentence in a mocking tone.

“Okay, listen you bitch I’m serious, alright?” Eli laughs.

“Yes, sir. I got it. I’ll let you know.”

You and Eli say your goodbyes and hang up. You have been crushing on your best friend for some time now. The whole butterflies in the stomach, weak in the knees, shaky hands, and tons of blushing type of crush.

You get home from work and automatically hop in the shower to get prepared for your wild night out. You didn’t really own what they call a “clubbing dress” but you did own some black shorts that had an obscene amount of sequins attached to them. The best match for the shorts was either a lime green tank top with some black booties that had a lime green zipper or you could go more chic with a tighter fitting white T-shirt and your favorite pair of retro white Nike tennis shoes that had a black check on the side. Oh, decisions, decisions. You take a look in the mirror and place your hand on your chin in thought. You decided to go with the white tank top thinking you’d feel more comfortable anyway. You weren’t going here tonight to pick up a guy and have a one night stand; you were going to have fun and dance.

You do your hair, makeup, and get your outfit on and you’re ready to go. You see your friends pull up to your house and you walk on out. The girls hang their heads out of their windows and start yelling, “GIRLS NIGHT,” and you can already tell that they’ve had a pretty intense pregame before coming to pick you up. You just shake your head at them and get in the car.

“I can’t believe you actually walked out that door, Y/N!”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well, I promised.”

“Oh cheer up girl!”

You girls wind up at the club and you step out of the car and your jaw drops from the amount of people at this place. You had forgotten about how packed a club gets, especially on a Saturday night. Is it too late to call Eli right now?

One of your friends pats you on the shoulder, “C’mon! Cheer up! You can see him later,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you. You roll your eyes at her, “Don’t even go there, bitch.”

She laughs at you and you two make your way in and catch up with your other girlfriends. They have already gotten the shots ready, “There you two are! Sorry, we left you out on the first round.”

You all take the shots and you feel the burning sensation drain all the way into your stomach. You didn’t necessarily enjoy drinking but you definitely enjoyed the sensation you got after it. You all get another round and down it; and you make your way to the dance floor.

All of you start dancing with each other screaming, “THIS IS MY SONG,” after every song that plays. You had to admit it was fun just being a girl sometimes. You could be reckless and spontaneous without any of their judgement, granted, they were too drunk to judge anyone at the moment.

“Hey, I’m gonna get another drink! Anyone want anything?”

“Oh! I do. I’ll come with.”

Then you weave through the crowd of people in the club and approach the bar; the bartender approaches you and you two order your drinks. You both down them and you say, “So are we gonna use another shot as a chaser?”

“You bet we are!”

You two get another shot and drink it and at this point things are starting to get hazy. You feel your legs begin to jerk and you’re burning up. You stand up from your chair and fall back down in it, your legs not being able to keep up with you. The room is spinning and you weren’t able to stand up right. You take your phone out of your purse and message Eli jumbling up your letters, “Hi geuss what? I’m drumk,” and thinking you had spelled everything correctly, you sent it.

You had lost sight of your “friends” so you decided to go to the bathroom.

You hear your phone and take it out, “Yeah? I can see that. You okay?”

You chuckle to yourself and mumble out your text out loud, “I'm in danger. Come get me”

Eli messages back, “You sure?”

You smirk, “Oh yeah! There is so much danger here. It’s ridiculous,” you laugh at your own message. You hear your phone again, “On my way.”

You walk out of the bathroom and find your friends barely walking with your jelly legs, “Hey girls, I’m really sorry but I’m heading home, Eli is coming to pick me up.”

They all frown at you, “Awh, okay. We’ll miss you!” You give them a quick hug making sure you don't make a lot of sudden movements.

You make your way outside to find Eli getting out of his car to meet you.

“Hey!” You try to raise your arm to wave at Eli but for some reason your arm doesn't budge.

“Oh, Y/N… you’re wasted.”

“Me? Wasted? Nope,” you start swaying a little bit slurring your words.

“Come on. Let’s get you in the car.”

He puts his arm around your shoulders and helps you to the car. You couldn’t help but be completely smitten with Eli barely having the thought to process that he touched you. Eli gets in the car and starts it.

“Thank you for taking me home, Eli. So sweet,” you put your hand on his face and stroke his cheek.

Eli just keeps driving pretending that you’re not bothering or flustering him at all.

“Do you even know how drunk you are right now?”

You keep staring at him and you move your hand away from his face and say, “Do you even know how pretty you are right now?” You get this extremely dumb grin on your face being super proud of the pickup line you just used on him.

Eli chuckles, “Okay, so one out of ten? You’re definitely at ten,” he’s practically saying to himself.

You answer with, “Yeah, you really are a ten, aren’t you?” Oh, if only sober you were here right now.

“You are so gonna regret this tomorrow, Y/N,” Eli smirks at you.

“Regret what? Telling you the truth?”

Eli just laughs at you and you two arrive at your apartment.

“I’ll help you inside, okay?”

“Okay, Mr. Hawk, but no funny business,” you put your hand up to boop his nose but miss his nose completely and end up putting your index finger on his chin. Eli cackles at you and you look at him confused, “What? I like your nose. It’s so adorable,” you stare at Eli with absolute love in your eyes.

“Buddy, you’re on it tonight.”

“Wish you were on me,” you mumble to yourself and Eli questions you making sure he heard you right, “What?”

“Nothing!” You just smile again at him.

Eli helps you inside and he helps you get dressed into your pajamas ignoring your advances towards him and lays you down in your bed and covers you up. He starts to walk out your bedroom door before you lazily lean up and say, “Wait! Where are you going?”

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Absolutely not. You’re gonna get your fine ass over here and cuddle with me,” you point to the empty space in your bed.

Eli leans up against the doorframe and says, “Not when you ask me like that. Ask nicely.”

You sigh, “Will you come cuddle with me? Plleeeaasseee,” your slurred speech making you sound more needy than you’d like.

“Alright, only because you asked soooo nicely,” Eli gets in the bed with you and you immediately snuggle up against him. You fit so well in his arms. Nothing was more blissful than this.

“Eli?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“I need to tell you something…”

“What is it?”

“I’m in love with you,” you sigh from relief, “Like have been for so long. But yeah, I love you.”

“Y/N I–” before he can finish his sentence you’ve drifted off to sleep leaving Eli to wait until the morning to talk to you.

The next morning you wake up with a killer headache. Wait? Who’s arms are these?

You crane your neck to get a glimpse of the boy who’s holding onto you. Holy shit! It’s Eli!

“Eli?” you lightly tap his arm and he startles a little bit which leads you to almost slap his arm yelling, “HAWK!”

Eli’s eyes jolted open causing him to almost jump up, “Yeah! What? You okay?”

You sit up, “I’m fine,” you slightly chuckle at him, “We didn’t?”

“Oh no! We didn’t. Just cuddling,” he smirks, “after you begged for me to snuggle you; I just couldn’t turn you down.”

“Oh, yeah right,” you scoff.

“You also said a few other things last night,” Eli looks at you with anxiety causing you to become anxious as well, “You said you were in love with me.”

Your heart starts to pound causing your head to feel like it’s about to blow up off your shoulders, “I– what?”

“Yeah, you missed a lot,” Eli looks at you slowly forming a smirk on his face.

“Oh great… I can’t believe this,” you sigh.

“So, it's true?”

“Ugh, dammit. I just– yeah, it's true.”

Eli lays his head back down and stares at the ceiling without a word and you say, “Good.”

“What?”

“I said good.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you too,” Eli’s face becomes blood red.

“You do?”

“Yes. I love you, Y/N. I have for a long time too.”

You kiss Eli not even caring that you both haven’t brushed your teeth yet. There were so many emotions running high that you just acted on first instinct. You two exploded with love. The kiss was filled with want and adoration and you could feel it.

You both pull away and Eli says, “I have been waiting for that to happen for so long.”

“Yeah, me too.”

You and Eli lay there for the rest of the morning in each other’s arms and talk about last night with him making fun of you for your drunken escapades.

You couldn’t believe you had come clean to Eli about how you really felt. You were so relieved that he loved you back. You two were a recipe for true love, you just knew it.

#cobra kai #johnny lawrence #daniel larusso #miguel diaz #eli moskowitz #demetri cobra kai #karate kid #hawk moskowitz #hawk x reader #cobra kai imagine

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

wonderland, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: The curious thing about adventure is that you never know when it starts. For Jeon Jungkook, it starts on a train, staring at a woman with exposed shoulders, eventually leading to his lips on her wrists, his tongue dancing over the words, eat me, drink me.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; graphic descriptions of fantasized sexual acts (fem reader, slight ink kink, biting / marking, dry humping, m and f-receiving oral, cowgirl, a ridiculous amount of sexual tension); non-idol!BTS; Alice Adventures in Wonderland themed; strangers-to-lovers; (purple-haired) Jungkook's POV; based on this

"How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice. "You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn’t have come here.”

excerpt from alice's adventures in wonderland by lewis carroll

He swallowed hard.

He shouldn’t be staring.

But he was.

She turned her head and looked right at him.

He quickly jerked his eyes away, zoning in on a screw bolted to the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. He should not be gawking at some random woman on the train. That was creepy, no matter how attractive she was. Her outfit was eye-catching, that was all. He had noticed her because of the off-the-shoulder, v-neckline of her black-and-white tartan top that exposed her shapely collarbones and shoulders. The floaty bishop sleeves ended with delicate hands that were elegantly poised on her bare knees, complete with a flared black skirt that revealed most of her juicy thighs because of her crossed legs. And those calves. Fuck. All that and it unexpectedly ended with chunky, ribbon-laced black boots.

Beside her was a black leather purse that was shaped like a coffin.

It rested against her hip.

The train screeched to a stop and people began to move, shoes appearing in his line of vision. She didn’t notice, right? No. Of course not. He just… zoned out. He wasn’t staring at her collarbones and shoulders, imagining planting kisses over that skin, running his teeth over them and leaving bright red marks.

Shit, what the hell was wrong with him?

Someone sat down on the seat next to him. He scooted closer to the window, away from whoever it was. There were plenty of seats on the train. Something hit the outside of his thigh, flat and oddly-shaped.

Out of his peripheral vision, he saw the coffin purse against his black jeans.

He jumped, snapping his head up.

“Sorry about that.”

His eyes shifted and she was looking right at him.

Expression unreadable.

His heart exploded, frightfully fluttering like a trapped bird in his ribcage.

“I-It’s okay.”

She lifted the purse and placed it in her lap. Then she tapped her right ear.

“It’s the earring, isn’t it? You’re curious what it says.”

His eyes darted to the earrings gleaming on said ear. She had three piercings, all silver, two on the lobe and one on the cartilage. The cartilage was a ram skull whose horns curved around the outside of the ear. The two lobe piercings were a hoop with an embedded black stone and a large script earring that dangled down, swinging every time she moved her head.

It read, eat me, drink me.

“It matches these.”

She lifted her hands and turned them around, pulling down the bishop sleeves and exposing her wrists to him. One had a tattoo of a small, square-shaped cake with text printed in the center – eat me. The other was a bulbous, potion-shaped bottle with a vintage-looking tag on it in the same font – drink me.

“Alice in Wonderland,” he breathed.

She smiled at him and he swore his heartbeat multiplied into seven birds feverishly flapping in his ribcage.

She turned her wrists inward, resting them on her purse. “I don’t see many people with exposed tattoos,” she commented, ticking her head to his right hand.

“A-ah… yeah,” he stuttered, covering the back of his hand with his left, leaving only the sheepish emoji tattoo on his upper middle knuckle exposed. “My mom hates them. Well, not hate, but she doesn’t like that I got so many at once.”

“Your mom ever told you that staring is impolite?”

His cheeks burned hot. “S-Sorry!” He bowed his head downward in guilt, gulping nervously. From this position, he could see her hands.

The left was tipped up, exposing the eat me tattoo on her inner wrist.

“Whoa, no need to apologize like that. I was only teasing you.”

He lifted his head slowly and her wrist turned back inward, now simply the back of her hand. His eyes flickered up and she was looking right at him. He almost jerked his head away in embarrassment, but tried to maintain eye contact.

Don’t be a creep.

Her gaze was unwavering, unreadable.

“You think I’m weird, huh?” she said with an amused smile.

He blinked rapidly. “No. No, I don’t. I thought… your purse was pretty unique,” he offered, pointing to it. It made him look down to make sure he was pointing at the right thing.

Her right wrist was exposed to him, the drink me tattoo stark and enticing.

He had a brief, obscene image of his lips attached to it, running his tongue up and down the inked skin, catching a bit of it in between his teeth and releasing it, moan on the tip of his tongue.

He yanked himself out of the moment of jamais vu, quickly switching to her face, his peripheral vision noticing her wrist turned back inward, pressing against the leather. Her lips curved into a coy smirk.

“I get questions about that too, on the regular. I saw it in a shop and liked it, so I purchased it.”

A lock of purple hair fell into his vision, somehow dislodged from his ear, but he couldn’t look away. Something about her tone made it seem like she was going to say more, so he sat there, frozen, captured by those alluring eyes that called to him.

“That and if I’m single or not.”

He felt his eyes widen a little, breath catching in his throat, the birds in his ribcage smashing against their confines, anxiety and anticipation roused from deep within him. Fear wasn’t the right word. It was more like seeing something from the corner of your eye that makes you do a double take, a mix of curiosity and interest, invested in what you might see.

“I am, if you’re curious.”

“O-oh. I… see…”

Her smirk grew into sly delight. She lifted her right hand and placed her palm on her chin, lips against her closed fingers, elbow resting on the coffin purse. Movement slow, deliberate. His lips parted, more violet hair falling around his face. His normal nervousness would have him looking away and pushing it back, but he somehow couldn’t. At least there was safety in this veiled curtain of purple surrounding the edges of his vision. Her hand turned, fingers cupping the left side of her face. Lips sliding down, emphasizing the plushness of them, and he could almost feel the warm inhale on his skin, but there was no way he could – he wasn’t that close and she wasn’t breathing that hard, but that was the feeling he got. Goosebumps prickled on the back of his neck.

He held his breath.

Her lips pressed to her tattoo, the faintest flicker of tongue against the ink.

There was no way anyone would notice unless they were looking very closely to her mouth.

His lower lip trembled, shudder shaking his shoulders.

The train screeched to a stop and the intercom called nonsensically, mumbles as stamping feet rushed out. No one seemed to notice the impossible electricity of this moment, shrinking it to just him, those lips, and that tattoo, the drink me text right there between her lips, an image that he had already seen, except it was his lips on that skin, and that image was imaginary because it only existed in his head.

She pulled her lips away and looked out the window, past him.

“I have to get off at the next stop.”

He was the stop after the next.

“May I…?”

Her eyes drifted back to him. “Hm?”

His eyes flickered down to her right hand, her inner wrist resting on black leather.

“Have a closer look at your tattoo?”

He wasn’t looking at her face. He was staring at the back of her unmoving hand.

“I mean, if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable–”

But before he could finish his sentence, the wrist was turning, lifting, placed right in front of his hungry eyes. Her forearm slid down the leather, grazing her skirt, suspended in the air for the briefest of moments, and then it brushed against his thigh, his left hand turning, and her graceful wrist rested on the pad of his palm, black ink standing out against that skin.

He was touching it.

Holding it.

Her presence neared. His eyes widened.

Goosebumps prickling, her warm inhale feathering right on his curve of neck to shoulder. His white sweatshirt was several sizes too big so the neckline was also oversized, revealing the tops of his own collarbones.

“It doesn’t bother me. Take a look.”

The train rushed into a tunnel, deafening all sound, and then it was only her voice and his gaze on that potion bottle, mesmerized. His hand rose, lifting her arm close to his face, his breathing shallowing. What was he doing? This was crazy. Absolutely crazy.

“If you want, you can bring it even closer. It's quite detailed.”

Insane.

He was lifting her hand, curiouser and curiouser, closer and closer, the script getting bigger and bigger, expanding, taking over his vision. His eyes following the elegant and prominent outline, drink me, the slightly dashed lines that emphasized the roundness of the bottle, the added etched fraying of the edges of the tag, drink me, the way the liquid was drawn to look like it was sloshing a little, as if it was really moving, drink me. He thought it was all in his head.

Her whisper, like sultry smoke, swaying the dangling earrings on his left ear.

“Drink me.”

He pressed his lips to the drink me script and moaned, so soft that she probably couldn’t hear it, but she could feel it on her wrist, vibrating her skin and his tongue tracing the lines, kissing softly, the taste somehow sweet, or was it just his imagination? Was it just a dream or was her body really a wonderland?

The edge of desire, on the cusp of something unknown.

He hadn’t even realized his eyes had closed and he opened them, seeing her looking directly at him, amusement sparkling in those mysterious orbs. He whimpered quietly, realizing how strange this was, how unbelievably weird, and this wasn’t him, this wasn’t something he ever thought he would do, or even something he ever imagined he would ever be in the position to do, kissing the wrist of a stranger on the train, but she pressed her wrist to his lips, her own parting in a faint Cheshire Cat smile.

“Don’t be afraid. I like it.”

He should let go and apologize for his odd behavior. His lips moved on her skin and there was nothing but her taste lingering on his lips, lost in images his head had conjured, tumbling, tumbling.

"Me too," he whispered, looking up into her eyes, silently saying, I don't know why.

Her smile was all he could see.

"You're very handsome...?" She tilted her head, inquiring.

The subway tunnel made the train roar around them.

"Jeon Jungkook."

The smile widened. She lifted her left wrist.

"Would you like to, Jungkook?"

His eyes flickered to it. The little square-shaped cake, eat me. Then back to her, heart racing, lowering her right and her left neared, his fingers slowly encircling her wrist, his eyes following the detail of the small crumbles, eat me, the added line shading to make the cake seem fluffed and appetizing, despite having no frosting or other decorations, eat me, the letters that looked almost stamped on her skin, eat me, and then he attached his lips to it, lightly nicking with his teeth, a nibble that flooded his senses with rushing pleasure.

He looked at her through his lashes, licking at her wrist, and she breathed out, unmistakable desire, her fingertips ghosting his cheek.

There was a sudden bloom of light as the train exited the tunnel, rays of overhead lights expanding through the windows, and he pulled back, gasping, holding her hand tightly, suddenly aware of the world around him, people getting up, sound crackling through the intercom, her hand in his and his thigh pressed against hers, the corner of her coffin bag digging into him because he was so close, so close to this stranger with beautiful tattoos and sweet-tasting skin.

The doors opened.

His eyes darted from her to their joined hands, then back to that faint grin playing on her lips, somehow the only thing he seemed to see.

"Coming?"

His other hand closed around his backpack.

They walked out together, hand in hand.

No one paid any attention to them.

Why would they? They had their own lives, hurrying home, pushing past each other, late for something, early for others. Time tick, tick, ticking, frowning at their wristwatches and wondering where the time had gone, an absurd thought, because time was made to provide linear reason to a nonexistent plane that flowed in every direction and preceded all other things, and so you were always late.

Always.

Jungkook stared at the back of her exposed shoulders, her hair pushed to the left, script earring dangling of her right ear, following on her light steps, all while holding her left hand and watching those muscles flex and relax, spellbound by the movement. She weaved through the crowd, slinking in spaces where he didn't think there was space, stopping for a moment to let someone pass, and Jungkook bumped into her back, his body flush to hers. Because of her tall shoes, the height difference was lessened and those long legs meant her ass and his crotch matched up is perfectly when otherwise they wouldn't.

His breath caught in his throat at the contact of softness to his hardness.

"Thank you for waiting."

The old woman smiled gratefully and the younger bowed her head, letting the elder take careful strides to the escalators.

She rolled her hips into Jungkook's jeans and his unbearable, stiff erection slid down his right pant leg, trapped against his inner thigh and layers of fabric, hot and pulsing.

He swallowed hard, releasing his backpack to grip her shoulder, turning his head so his long purple hair shadowed his eyes and cheek, smelling the tea-like scent of her hair. His inked hand stood out against the nakedness of her shoulder. She turned her head and the long earring bumped against his cheek, icy cold to flushed skin.

The images crept into his mind, them sitting on the train and her in his lap, his left hand pressing her head forward, her hair spilling down, neck and shoulders exposed to his waiting mouth, lips to delectable skin, kissing, sucking, biting, his hands sliding down the curves, pushing her legs apart, spreading them wide, his nails sinking into her inner thighs, her ass on his crotch, grinding down. Marks on those shoulders and neck, her mouth open and soft cries tickling his ears, her hands finding his, eat me on top of his left wrist, drink me above his right wrist, his hands sliding down to wet heat, fingertips pressing into drenched, slick fabric.

What was wrong with him?

"Let's walk a little, hm?"

Jungkook had been holding her left with his left. He let go of her shoulder and readjusted his backpack on his, standing behind her, not quite shy, but still shadowing the path she laid for him, his steps in her steps, his breath on her neck as he spoke in this moment.

"I'm not like this, normally."

He wasn't like this, ever.

"Isn't it alright to fall into abnormality to discover what is wild and new?"

His lips brushed the ram earring on her cartilage, gasping lightly as her hips swayed against the front of his pants, instant, hot, radiating friction.

Her fingers that were laced with his stroked the back of his hand.

This train stop connected to an underground mall, still alive with people and open shops. The scent of restaurants cooking away at this busy time made the air heavy and thick, wafting around the crowd, inciting customers to fill their bellies.

"Does it bother you?" she asked, walking through the crowd with feline grace, but there was a playfulness to her movement. She turned back to look at him, smile dancing on her lips.

"Uh... I... I don't know," he admitted truthfully, staring at those lips, feeling them ghosting his inner thigh, long tongue extending and licking his hard, throbbing length from tip to base before pushing it up, making him gasp, tongue swirling around the bottom, wrapping around his balls, soaking them with saliva, her eyes on him, watching, her wrist pressed to the red, aching, leaking head of his cock, pre-cum smearing all over the words, drink me.

"That's odd, Jungkook. Usually people know if they're bothered by something."

His eyes drifted up from her lips to her eyes, little lights that glimmered or maybe it was simply the sparkly lighting of the whimsical shops around them, crammed full of knickknacks and cute things. Something caught his eye in one of the windows – a writing desk, covered in pastel stationery, set up with pens and half-written notes, as if the busy student had just left the desk.

An obsidian raven plush was perched at the corner of the desk, looking down at the mess left behind by an imaginary child dreamt up by sales associates.

He looked back to her right in front of him. Her head was tilted, her body twisted because he was still holding her left hand. In her right, she held her coffin purse.

"It's not you I'm bothered by," he said slowly, realizing that it was the truth as he said it. Despite this woman being completely unfamiliar to him, a riddling enigma, she had done nothing but present him with things to consider.

"I don't understand what's going on in my head."

He let go of her hand.

Underneath these lights and surrounded by passerby that walked around them without a second thought, Jungkook stared into the eyes of the stranger of his memory.

His hand tentatively touched her waist, waiting for her to step back. She stepped forward, into his warmth. His fingers closed, resting snugly on tartan fabric and the waistband of her skirt, the slimmest sliver of skin in between the two articles of clothing.

She smiled.

"You're a little curious, aren't you?"

His middle finger pushed the hem upward, the pad of his finger directly on her skin.

Her lips parted.

Her left hand raised, touching his chest lightly, elegant fingers barely on the fabric, but he felt more, felt those fingers dig into his sweatshirt and clutch it tightly, pulling it up and over his head, his own left hand pressing her chest down, grabbing the bottom of that off-the-shoulder tartan top, his lips on her stomach, hungry kisses, his hands on her skirt, forcing her to hold it up, dragging her panties down as he looked up at her on his knees before leaning to hot, wet nectar, letting it fill his tongue and mouth, the viscous juices sticking to his lips, his cheeks, sweet and tart, so delicious, and he wanted it all, his hands gripping her ass, fingers of her left hand tangling in his hair, pushing him closer, not letting him go until she was satisfied, her wrist surrounded by dark purple stands curling around the words, eat me.

"You have beautiful eyes, Jungkook."

He blinked, the image gone, feeling his neck heat. "R-Really?"

Her hand lifted off his chest and reached up, nearing his face. Her fingers traced the air, hovering.

"The shape. The way it raises in the center and curves down like this," she whispered to his chin, sounding awed. "The inner corner, so sharp and defined. And the color, like freshly brewed black tea cradled in a delicate teacup."

It was the most bizarre love letter to his eyes that he had ever received and, yet, it suited her and tore his heart asunder, beating wildly in his chest, the anxious birds trapped in his ribcage suddenly released, the stinging air of his rushed exhale making him feel strangely detached, as if his head was no longer part of his body.

"Touch me," Jungkook whispered.

Her fingers millimeters from his face, the eat me cake tattoo and his own purple hair shrouding his peripheral vision.

Fingertips pressed to his right cheekbone, caressing it gently.

He started at her lips and he could feel it, her hand encircling his head, lips to lips, heated, all-encompassing kisses that consumed him, his hands on her waist, pulling her on top of him, his hardness pressed to her softness, sliding in between soaked folds, her gasp on his tongue, gripped by her tight walls wrapped around his stiff length as he pushed deeper, his eyes rolling back as he bottomed out, her tongue tracing his open mouth, her teeth nipping on his lower lip, whispering his name in burning ecstasy, rocking her hips to his, surreal pleasure enveloping him, her hands in his hair, moaning onto his chin as she held onto him, his hands clutching her hips, lost in the heat, the softness, the tightness, the sweetness, thrusting up into her pussy, his cock drenched with her, their dragged-out pants echoing as he took her wrists, one by one, pressing eat me, drink me to his lips, his tongue tracing a circle around the words, staring into her eyes, a wonderland he had yet to discover, all in a golden afternoon.

"Jungkook, may I kiss you?"

He blinked, realizing his gaze had landed on her collarbones and shoulders. He raised his head, a smile forming in his lips.

"Please."

She leaned in and he met her halfway, lips to lips, her wispy, contented sigh as they connected, warm and inviting. His hands around her waist, holding her to him, and her hand cupped his jaw, fingers sliding back to tangle in his purple hair, pressing her chest and thighs to his body, tongue flitting against tongue, teasing, and he wasn't like this normally, truly, all of this was absurd on many levels, but the kiss was like being shaken awake, comforting him from head to toe, the sounds of people swirling around them. Laughter, conversation, footsteps going forward.

The kiss broke. She pulled away with a smile, her lips flushed from the contact.

"What's your name?" he asked breathlessly.

She laughed, leaning against him, her fingers playing with his long violet hair.

Her name, formed by her lips and then by his, the beginning of an adventure.

What a curious, curious happening for Jeon Jungkook.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

Puppy Love

Pairing: Jake Jensen/Fem-Reader

Words: 4684

Summary: You and Jake Jensen work together for the first time on a recon mission. You’re the consummate professional, while Jake is basically a man-child with a heart of gold. Will he be able to soften your cold demeanor?

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, SMUT, 18+

A/N: I ended up be a little later than I had planned with this one as I wanted to do some edits since the first draft didn’t seem quite right to me, but here it is, for day 5 of my birthday week. I actually watched “The Losers” for the first time today and I would highly recommend it. It’s a bit on the cheesy side but Jake Jensen really makes it worth it. I’m going to tag @stargazingfangirl18 and @starlightcrystalline, as I know they’re fans of Jake’s. Please enjoy!

“What’s he look like again?”

“Golden retriever in human form, blond buzz, goatee, Harry Potter glasses.” Aisha instructed you over your phone. “Probably stuffing his face at the buffet. He’ll have a comm for you. Thanks for stepping in for me at the last minute.”

“Well, you didn’t give me that much of a choice.” You said, no real malice behind it. You did owe her after all. “Found him. Talk to you in a sec.”

She had been right, you found your contact at the buffet, balancing two plates on one forearm and loading them with an obscene amount of h’ors douvres. He didn’t notice you walking up behind him, he was so engrossed in the spread.

“Jensen?”

The man nearly jumped out of his skin, just barely avoiding spilling foie gras on his tux.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath as he set the plates down on a table and turned back to you. “Y/N? Hi! Call me Jake!” He wiped his hands on his pants leg before offering you one to shake in greeting.

You cocked one eyebrow at him as he gave you a slightly crooked grin and took his hand. “Right, you have a comm for me?”

“Crap, yes, here you go.” He handed the small earpiece and gave you a good look, eyes scanning up and down your body. You were wearing a long sleeve green satin gown. The bodice hugged you tightly down to your hips before flaring into a skirt that had a slit running all the way up your leg. The gown didn’t have a back, showing off the lean muscles moving beneath your skin.

Jensen cleared his throat and took what you thought was supposed to be a nonchalant pose; leaning back on one foot with his arms crossed, one eyebrow lifted in an expression you couldn’t identify. “So,” he said in an artificially deep voice. “Where, uh, where are you from?”

You rolled your eyes and ignored the question as you inserted the comm link into your ear. “Comm test, can you read me, Aisha?”

“I read you, I see you found Jensen.”

“Yeah, where are we heading?”

“Right down to business, I can respect that.” Jensen said, nodding his head as he shuffled his feet and crossed and uncrossed his arms repeatedly, trying to give off an air of confidence and failing miserably.

“There’s a hallway to your left that should lead to the north wing of the property where the entrance to the server room is. Security is pretty lax right now but they’re definitely still there so make sure you don’t look suspicious.”

“Got it.” You turned back to Jensen and put one arm through his, giving him a radiant smile as the two of you started to head down the hall.

“Hahaha, what’s happening?” Jensen laughed nervously at your sudden and extreme change in demeanor.

“Relax, Jensen. We’re just taking a stroll to look at the artwork. Nothing that should concern anyone.”

“Oh, ok. Are you acting right now? You’re really good at it.”

Your smile started to strain. Wasn’t this guy supposed to be a professional? “That’s part of the job.” You grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the waiters before you headed down the hallway. You nodded to Jensen to grab one as well, hoping that if he started drinking, he might stop talking.

You were wrong.

“I always feel so awkward when I have to act on a job, you know? Like, what’s my character’s story? His motivations?” He took a sip of champagne. “Mm, this is good.”

You chugged your glass in one gulp. Maybe if you got a buzz going, the constant chatter wouldn’t bother you as much.

“Wow. That was impressive.”

“Jensen, Y/N is too much of a pro to say so, but you need to shut the fuck up.” Aisha said through your comms, exasperated. You heard laughing from the rest of the team in the background and gave a small smirk.

“Right, sorry. I babble when I’m nervous.” He said, taking another sip of champagne.

You were getting close to the server room now and saw a security guard walking towards you. You pulled Jensen off to the side and stared at a beautiful replica of John William Waterhouse’s ‘The Soul of the Rose’.

“Tell me about this one, sweetie.” You said, your voice sickeningly sweet as you giggled breathlessly and looked at Jensen coquettishly, fluttering your eyelashes at him.

“Uhh, this is a painting of… a woman, um, smelling a rose. From…. Sometime in the past?” He said, painfully.

Fortunately, the guard didn’t stop to analyze the absolute stupidity that was coming out of this man’s mouth. He continued past the two of you and you started to head back towards your destination.

“Fascinating analysis, Jensen.” You said dryly.

“Listen, I can’t ad lib. I need time to prepare my lines.”

“How have you survived in this… fuck.” You drew him back sharply before he had a chance to round the corner. There were two guards posted at the door to the server room. “Aisha, we’ve got two bogies right where we need to be. Is there any other way in?”

“Shit, no. Vents are welded shut and the roof is crawling with security, so the sky light isn’t an option.”

You chewed your lips as you weighed the several different scenarios. “Is there a closet or other sort of storage nearby?”

“Yeah, there’s a janitor’s closet right across the hall.”

“Great.” Not trusting your partner to act the part believably, you figured startling him would get him into a convincing state.

You grabbed his ears and pulled his face to yours, kissing him hard. He gave a small yelp into your mouth as you pulled him backwards with you, into the view of the two waiting guards. You separated from him and he gave you a goofy grin trying to kiss you again as you turned away from him, pulling him by his wrist and giggling.

You staggered drunkenly towards the two guards and gave them a sloppy grin. “’Scuse me.“ You slurred at them. Jensen collided into your back clumsily, panting breathlessly. “We’re looking for the bathroom.”

“You need to move out of this area.” One of the guards scowled at you, his hand moving to the gun holstered on his hip.

“How… dare you?” You whined, stepping forward and poking him in the chest. “Do you even know who you’re talking to? Do you know who my daddy is?”

The guard looked past you at Jensen. “Sir, you need to take her out of here.”

“Don’t you talk over me!” You dug your hand in your purse. “I’m calling daddy right now, you are going to be so fired.”

He rolled his eyes and moved to grab your arm when you pulled the syringe out of your purse and plunged it into his neck. He let out a hiss and slumped against the wall. You pulled his gun out of the holster and whipped the other guard across the face with it before he had a chance to reach for his radio.

“Wait, was that not a real kiss?” Jensen asked with a confused look on his face. He stared at the two guards lying on the floor, his brain trying to catch up with everything that just happened.

“Oh my god, Jensen, get your head in the game.” Aisha scolded through the comms.

“Help me get them into the closet.” You hissed at him after you managed to gag and hogtie both of them.

“Right.” You shoved the guards into the tiny storage area and forced the door closed. Jensen moved to the key pad and connected it to his phone, a look of concentration coming over his face as he got to work.

You rolled your neck loosely as you waited and in less than a minute he made a small triumphant noise.

“Jensen comes in in the clutch and the crowd goes wild!” He made a noise like cheers in a stadium and put his hand up to give you a high five.

You opened the door to the server room and headed in, leaving him hanging. You heard him slap his own hand before he followed you. “So serious.” You heard him whisper over the comms. “ ‘Good job Jensen. And by the way that kiss was amazing, let’s do it again.’ “

“We can hear you, idiot.” Aisha said in your ears, her tone dripping with annoyance.

“Oops.”

“Where’s the server we want?” You asked him over your shoulder.

“This way.” He led you down an aisle to your right before arriving at the server you needed, pulling a small tablet out of his tux jacket and connecting it. “This should just take a few minutes.”

“Great.”

“So, um, how do you know Aisha?” he said, trying to fill the silence.

“High school.” You said flatly.

“Oh, really? That long?”

“No.”

“Of course not. She mentioned something about Finland?”

“Yep.”

“So, snowy there, huh?”

“Sure is.”

“Oook.” He felt horribly awkward. He knew he had no game, but dealing with women like you and Aisha really cemented that. He turned his concentration back to the algorithm that was running and started singing Bon Jovi to himself.

You rolled your eyes. You couldn’t believe Aisha worked with this man-child. He must be a genius with computers for her to put up with this bullshit. Granted, he filled out that tux real nice; his broad shoulders stretching the back of the jacket in a titillating way before his torso narrowed in an almost perfect V to his hips. The jacket covered it some, but you could tell he had a nice ass under the slacks as well. Maybe she kept him around for the eye candy.

“Wanted, wantehehed, dead or alive! And done!” He finished up, disconnecting from the server and turning to give you another goofy grin.

You smirked at him and started to head back out of the room.

“Was that an almost smile, Y/N?” he said teasingly behind you. “Are you warming up to me?”

“Please stop talking,” You told him half-heartedly, too mentally exhausted to really scold him.

You turned the corner and ran into three armed guards. You all stared at each other for a second before they drew their guns and brought them up to fire.

You shoved Jensen behind the servers and dove after him as bullets started ricocheting everywhere.

“We’re blown, Aisha! We need an exit.”

“Shit, hold them down while I work something out.”

“Got it. You armed, Jensen?” You looked at him as you slipped out of your heels.

“Fuck, no. I was worried a gun would ruin the lines of my tux.”

“That is so fucking stupid.” You hissed. Of course, you hadn’t brought a gun either, but that was because you knew the venue’s security measures would have gone into hyper drive if you had gotten caught with one. You shoved your shoes into Jensen’s arm along with your purse as you pulled out a ceramic blade from under your skirt.

“Where were you keeping that?” Jensen asked you, eyes bulging as he tried to imagine where you could have been storing the giant knife in your skintight dress.

You gave him a grunt as you edged your way between the servers slowly, moving closer to the gunman as they shuffled forward, continuing to fire at the two of you.

You reached the server next to the nearest gunman and shot your arm out to knock the gun out of his hand. You brought a knee up into his diaphragm and plunged your knife in between his shoulders and then his neck, slipping back between the servers as he dropped to the floor.

The other two guards seemed to remember suddenly that they were in a room full of delicate computer equipment and they stowed their weapons, dropping into fight ready stances as they tried to determine where you were.

You shot out like a whip, punching the first guard in the gut then the throat and grabbing him around the waist to tackle him. You used the momentum to carry you forward and delivered a scorpion kick to the other man’s face, making him stagger back into the servers, clutching his nose. The first man wasn’t going down, so you released him and sprung off one leg to push off a server wall and whip the opposite foot around to drive into his face hard, sending him sprawling as you landed on one knee beside him, plunging your knife into his chest.

“Jesus, Jensen what’s happening?” Aisha yelled over the comms.

“Uhh, Y/N is kicking some serious ass.” Jake watched you stand up slowly from the second body, spinning your knife through your fingers as you turned to face your final opponent.

“Well both of you need to get to the skylight ASAP for extraction, Pooch’ll be there with a chopper in exactly one minute.”

“Got it. You get that, Y/N?”

“Yeah, just a second.” You jumped up to grab one of the pipes running along the ceiling and wrapped your thighs around the guard’s neck, squeezing him hard enough to cut off blood and oxygen to his brain. You didn’t notice him draw a knife of his own from a sheath at his thigh.

Jake hissed when he saw and grabbed the gun the first guard had dropped, shooting your opponent three times in his chest before he had a chance to slash across your femoral artery. You landed on your feet as he dropped between your legs.

“Nice shot.” You told Jake, giving him an approving nod as the two of you started to jog to the extraction point.

“Aww, shucks.” Jake groaned internally at that, not wanting to think about how stupid he sounded.

“We’re here.” You told Aisha over the comm. “How exactly is Pooch getting us out of here? There’s no room on the roof for a chopper.”

“He’s going to drop you a line.”

“Great.” The skylight was purely for show, there was no way to open it. You pushed Jake back and took the gun from him when you heard chopper blades, and shot the glass out of the window.

A rope dropped through the opening immediately and Jake wrapped his right leg and arm through it before holding you to him with his left arm.

“Hi.” He said sheepishly as he looked at you. “Wait, weren’t there guards on the roof?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer as the two of you were lifted into the air as the chopper took off. You heard gunfire and saw muzzle flashes before you were exposed to the open air.

A bullet ripped through the air less than 6 inches from your face and Jake swore. “Don’t drop me.” You told him as you started firing at the guards on the roof, making sure to pick your shots carefully so you didn’t waste any bullets.

Once you were safely out of gun range, someone in the chopper started pulling the two of you up. Jake gave a melodramatic sigh once the two of you were safely inside, laying back against the floor, still holding you to him, before he let out a whoop and sat up quickly, releasing you. He watched you with one of those ridiculous grins on his face as you settled yourself into one of the seats.

“That was exciting!” He said giddily. “Cougar, you should have seen it. Y/N took out three guys with guns with just a knife and, like, her legs.”

You couldn’t help it, that damn smile of his was too infectious. Your lips curled up slightly as he narrated the fight to a disinterested Cougar, leaning you head back against the chopper. The idiot had grown on you.

“And, hoo, when you kicked that one guy in the face, while you were tackling the other guy. Man, that was fucking ace!” He finished up his narration as you landed back at the warehouse.

Clay and Aisha greeted you when you landed. Aisha let out a deep breath once she saw to two of you step out of the chopper, tension leaving her body.

“You two get it done?” Clay asked.

“We sure did, boss! Backdoor is open for us anytime!” Jake said excitedly.

“Perfect, let’s all get some drinks.”

“Glad you’re ok, Y/N.” Aisha said, handing you a shot of tequila when you arrived at the basic bar set up.

“Well, we’re officially even now.” You told her around a grin before tossing back your shot and pouring another.

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you for any more favors.” She said through a smile of her own.

“Aw, c’mon, Aisha. The two of us make a pretty killer team! I think she should maybe join our little loser club!” Jensen draped an arm around your shoulder. He had undone his bowtie and the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing a light dusting of dark hair at the top of his chest. He looked down at you and gave you a grin and a wink.

Well, fuck.

You slammed your second shot back, nodded to Aisha, and pulled Jake by his wrist to follow you to one of the side rooms of the warehouse as he gave you a look of confusion.

“Have fun, you two. Don’t break him, Y/N!” You heard Aisha call behind you.

“Um, what are we doing?” Jake asked as you pulled the door to one of the storage rooms closed behind you.

“Stop talking, before I change my mind.” You told him, placing a finger over his lips as you slid his tux jacket off his shoulders.

You stepped into him, your body pressing him into the door as you brought his face to yours for a kiss before he could start babbling again. You teased at his lips with your teeth before running your tongue around the cushion of his bottom lip and he opened himself to you, groaning into your mouth. He kneaded his hands into your hips, pulling you against him close. You felt him starting to harden through his pants and gave him a sigh before you started moving your mouth down his jaw to his neck as you started to unbutton his shirt.

“Shit.” He murmured as you lightly sucked against his pulse point, drawing a soft bruise against his skin as your hands finished their work on his buttons and he shrugged his shirt off. You stepped back to let him remove his undershirt too and gave a moan when his torso was fully exposed, running your fingers over his abs lightly before pressing your palms against the plain of his chest.

“Mmm, who knew you were packing all this under here sweetie.” You murmured before moving your mouth back to his neck before you started slowly traveling south.

“Um, Y/N? Is this just like, a post-mission type thing? Or what?” His voice cracked when your tongue ran over his nipple as you tweaked the other. You kept moving down his abs until you reached the top of his pants and started to undo his belt, kneeling in front of him. “Not that there’s any pressure, or anything, just curio-- mmph.”

You had slipped your panties off as he chattered away and shoved them in his mouth before you went back to undoing his fly.

“Seriously, Jake, you need to shut the fuck up.” You pulled his zipper down finally, and drew his pants and boxers down his legs so they pooled around his ankles.

You gave yourself a little hum as you examined his cock. His swollen head was already leaking pre-cum before you had even touched him. You spat in your hand before wrapping it around his impressive length, giving him a few pumps as you lapped soft kitten licks over his slit. He gave a groan from deep in his chest and leaned his head back against the door, thumping his fist against it at his side.

You took the head of his cock in your mouth and hummed around it, causing him to twitch before you moved him further in and slowly back out, repeating the process to take him a little further into your mouth with each bob of your head.

Jake was using all his concentration to keep from coming 30 seconds into a blowjob like a chump. The tangy taste of your arousal was on his tongue as he bit down on your panties, which wasn’t helping. When you started breathing through your nose and relaxed your throat to swallow around him though, he was lost.

He let out a muffled groan and pressed a hand to the back of your head when he bucked his hips and shot his release down your throat.

You let his softening dick slide out of your mouth as you wiped a small amount of drool from around your mouth with your fingertips. You drew yourself up to your feet and plucked your now saliva soaked panties from his mouth before pulling him in for another kiss.

“Was that good for you, honey?” You asked, giving him a wicked smile as he rested his forehead against yours, panting as he came down from his orgasm.

“Fuck, yeah, that was good.” He said, kissing you again as his big hands pressed into the small of your back before moving their way up to your shoulders.

He slid the shoulders of your gown down your arms slowly and then down your hips once your arms were free. You stepped out of it as it pooled on the ground and he turned you suddenly until he had you pinned against the wall.

Jake took a step back and drank you in. He ran his hand over your hips and up your abdomen until he was cupping your breasts, gently running his thumbs over your nipples until they were raised to sensitive peaks.

“Mmhm, pretty girl.” He murmured as he palmed your breasts, making you gasp. “I’m gonna make you feel good too, baby.”

He removed his glasses and set them on the table behind him before stepping into you and curling his thick fingers over your mound. You bit your lip and moaned as he teased his way between your soft folds, brushing his fingers through the arousal at your entrance as he sank to his knees.

He pushed your lips apart gently, then dragged his tongue over your slit heavily, causing your knees to buckle when he found your clit. He moved one of your legs over his shoulder to keep you from falling as he started licking small circles over the tiny bud.

He shook his head from side to side to press himself deeper into you before sucking gently, making you cry out. His tongue entered your canal and he started to alternate between fucking you with it, and sucking on your clit.

You felt your core tightening as your orgasm built and you ground yourself into Jake’s face, begging him for more. He wrapped his lips around you tightly and sucked hard, and you felt the coil in your belly snap as you screamed his name and your release gushed all over his mouth and chin. You kept grinding against him as you came down and once you had finally finished, he gave you a wicked grin from between your legs before rising back up to kiss you.

You felt your desire stirring again already when you tasted yourself on his tongue and you let out a heavy sigh. He pressed himself into your front and lifted you until you could wrap your legs around his waist. He pressed his face into the hollow of your throat and softly nipped at the skin there. You gave a soft whine and gripped the back of his neck.

“You good with me fucking you against the wall, sweetheart?” He asked against your neck.

“Oh, fuck, yes.” You said breathlessly as he continued nuzzling you softly.

He kept you propped against the wall as he moved a hand between the two of you to line up at your entrance. You felt his tip brush against your folds and let out a sigh, trying to grind yourself into him.

He pulled his head up and gave you one of those grins before lowering you slowly onto his length. You moaned as you stretched over him until he was fully seated in you.

Jake gave a grunt and braced one hand against the wall before he started moving his hips, fucking his cock up into you roughly. His breath was hot against your neck as he panted in time with his thrusts, making you whimper softly in his ear.

“God, sweetheart, you’re so tight. This pussy feels so good.”

He started to pick up the pace then. You screwed your eyes shut and tilted your head back with a low moan, loving the full feeling he was giving you in this position. Jake lifted his head to look at you and watch as you took his cock, your tits bouncing each time he drove up into you. He bent his face down to nuzzle against them and you gasped as he drew his tongue over your nipple.

His cock was hitting your sweet spot each time and the position you were in had him rubbing right against your clit. You could feel yourself building towards an orgasm fast and dug your nails into the muscles of his back.

He felt you starting to flutter and clench around him and picked up the pace, adjusting the hand he had holding you up so your hips tilted just a bit and that small change sent you over the edge.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it!” You cried as every muscle in your body tightened and vibrated while your pleasure released violently. Jake kept his relentless pace up as you rode it out and you sagged against him when you came down.

You felt his hips start to stutter and then his dick was twitching inside of you, his cum filling you up until it was leaking out around his cock.

“Fuck, sorry.” He murmured against your hair as he held you to him. “I meant to pull out.”

You lifted his head up and slowly unwrapped yourself from him, placing your feet on the floor gently and almost collapsing on your shaky legs.

“That’s ok baby.” You said, giving him a reassuring pat on the cheek. You gave him a hungry kiss, painting the inside of his mouth with your tongue before whispering in his ear, “I love feeling your cum leaking out of my cunt.”

He gave a laugh that was on the hysterical side as you started to slip your gown back on. He was sliding into his pants when you turned back to him, and he gave you a sheepish grin. He found your panties as he was drawing his shirt off the ground and tried to hand them to you.

“Oh, sweetie, you keep those.” You told him with a throaty chuckle. “They can be a little souvenir.”

Fuck, that’s hot. He thought to himself as he tucked them into his back pocket.

“So, should we do this again sometime?” He asked awkwardly, not knowing what to say to you now. He definitely wanted to do it again. He wanted to do it a lot. But he was worried this was just a quick fling for you, a release after a stressful mission.

“Aww, puppy.” You pouted playfully at him. “We’ll do it again. Those stupid grins of yours have grown on me. I don’t think I have it in me to break your heart.”

He gave you one of those signature grins now as he pressed himself into your back and nuzzled in your hair. You whipped the door open and held his hand as you led him out to a chorus of whistles and catcalls, and he wore that stupid grin all night.

Permanent Tags:

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

#chris evans smut #chris evans #chrisevans #jake jensen #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #eighteen plus #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen smut #the losers movie

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

strangers again

summary: “hiiii sweetie!! can i request a steve x reader where he left yn for peggy. but he always felt guilty and missed yn. he would always stare at her pic. when he came back he bumped into yn while she was dropping a kid to daycare. and steve realized it was his son. kinda sad but fluff at the end pls!!!! and oh i super love your works!!! tysm 🌼🥺💕”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: decent angst, brief mention of a depressive episode, abandonment, somewhat unrealistic behavior

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: i really hope that this lives up to your expectations but it is a little cheesy. i’d also like to warn that i have not interacted with a child in several years, so.. sorry. (there’s also a lot of exposition so double sorry if that’s not your thing!)

You’d never forget the moment Steve left to return the stones, with the promise to be back in only a matter of moments.

Maybe your definition of a matter of moments was different from his.

You seemed to be the only one without a clue of what Steve truly planned to do, with Bucky only telling you after the matter that Steve was leaving for the past and for Peggy, and probably not coming back.

After finding out, something deep within you broke. You could barely leave your bed for days, you struggled to eat, sleep, even drink water. Every task that used to seem like muscle memory, began to feel like it carried the weight of the world behind it. Every hobby that you once enjoyed becoming empty and bleak.

You constantly felt inadequate. How could you love someone so much, and be told you were loved so much while always being second to someone else?

The simple sentiment of it had left you feeling miserable, and sick to your stomach. Literally. Nearly every morning, and occasionally if you smelled something too strong, you found the contents of your stomach emptied.

You attempted to ignore it at first. Meshed with every other unpleasant symptom you were going through, you’d figured that it was just one more bullet point on the list of things that had been plaguing you. But when your friends insisted that you go check up with your doctor, you had a hard time saying no.

Once you received the results from your blood test, you were completely taken aback by the fact that you were pregnant. You couldn't believe that you hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy earlier.

Yet, after a long and hard period of pondering, you managed to surprise yourself once again after you realized you wanted to keep it.

After all, that could be the only piece of Steve you had left.

----

You began to tell yourself that Steve was dead. That was somehow less painful than the idea that he left you for someone that he barely knew, yet had fallen so hard for nearly 70 years ago. You refused to let yourself fall for anyone else romantically, now that you were aware that anyone had the capacity to leave you at any time, no matter how deep you perceived your relationship to be.

You guarded your heart, and made sure to only let in those that you knew you could trust for a fact. For the remainder of your pregnancy, only your closest family members and friends stood by your side.

About 8 months later, you brought a small, but healthy infant into the world. From that moment on, you promised yourself to become the best version of yourself that you could be. No dwelling on the past, and no yearning for what could’ve been. Your only duty now was to provide the best life possible for your offspring.

So you did.

----

You stood in the kitchen, peeling an orange for your son before he bounded into the room. You turned and gave him a big grin, and he grinned back to you.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself?” You asked him excitedly, receiving a nod in return before he ran up to your leg, and hugged it.

“I did, Mommy!” He looked up at you with his soulful eyes, and you couldn’t help but to feel bombarded with emotion.

Even at the tender age of five, Grant seemed to become a bit more like his father every day. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the sound of his giggle. To the average onlooker, he came across as the same as any other child, but to you, your son was the splitting image of Steve.

“Good work, little man. Now go sit at the table so mommy can finish breakfast, okay?” He didn’t even bother confirming with you before more or less sprinting to the table. You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if your son had obtained all of that energy and speed from his father as well.

Breakfast was over almost as soon as it started, and before you knew it, you were warming up your car after you’d assisted Grant with brushing his teeth.

You were in an oddly nostalgic mood that day, playing music from a time period before you’d even imagined bringing another life into the world. You glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched your son happily bop his head to the beat. You thought in passing about how much of a gift he truly was.

After arriving at his school, you hopped out of the car and over to the furthest seat in the back, where he’d insisted on sitting that day.

“You ready, big guy?” You questioned while reaching out to grab him from the car seat.

“Born ready,” he agreed. You chuckled and shook your head fondly at that while getting him out of the car.

“Who taught you that?”

Grant shrugged, “I came up with it myself.”

“I’m sure. Can you hold my hand while we’re out please?” You reached out for him, and he gladly obliged.

You soon became distracted by a large man across the street, his built figure and light blonde hair making you recall the father of your child. You gave Grant’s hand a light squeeze and continued to approach the door, not being able to help yourself, and glancing over at the man one last time.

Except this time was different. Your eyes locked with the blonde man outside of the coffee shop across the street unexpectedly. Where you once thought casually to yourself that it looked like Steve, you now had confirmation that it was in fact the man who you’d fallen in love with, and found yourself pregnant by.

You audibly gasped, receiving a bit of a questioning look from your child. Your heart dropped as a metric ton of emotions hit you all at once, anger, sadness, confusion. Everything you told yourself you needed to repress, had suddenly come back to you all at once.

Even from a distance, you swore you could see his eyes flit from you to Grant, and the next thing you knew, he was approaching your direction. Looking for an easy out, and a distraction from your rather observant child, you quickly caused a misdirection.

“Grant, is that Stacey over on the playground? You should totally go show her that new version of tag that you were telling me about!”

Your son, ever the speedster, booked it towards the playground, and you let out a sigh of relief. Although, the relief didn’t last long, as just moments later, Steve was almost all the way up to you. As you turned to try to escape, you felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N?” He asked, almost timidly.

You weren’t even sure what to say. In fact, you didn’t feel like you had control of your own body at this point. “Steve? I-“ You ran a hand through your hair and bit the inside of your lip. “You need to go.” The pain that was rushing through you was too much for you to bare, especially considering the man who caused the hurt had suddenly decided to reappear in your life after giving you a world of self doubt and abandonment issues.

Steve seemed hurt by your statement, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand to even look at his face. “Please, Y/N, let me explain,” he begged.

“No, Steve. You don’t get that luxury. You left me for someone else, and I guess you got to live a nice, long life with her. You don’t get to just show back up in my life when you get bored, okay? I can’t afford to play those types of games anymore. Now if you’d let me go-“ You attempted to get to your car, but Steve side stepped you.

“It wasn’t like that. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Just fucking leave! You have no idea what this has all been like for me. You had your opportunity to leave, and you gladly took it. Stay the fuck out of my life, and the hell away from my son.” You grabbed the handle of your car door and got in, reeling as you watched a dejected Steve walk away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rested your head against the steering wheel. You were feeling way too many emotions to pinpoint exactly how you felt, but you knew that this couldn’t be good.

——

You put a brave face on for your son that day, picking him up from school in a daze, and only half listening to whatever it was that he was telling you.

You felt bad for only being able to nod along to whatever he was saying, and did he just ask you if he could get a dog? Did you just say yes?

You felt like a stranger watching yourself from the outside in. The ghost of the person you’d developed into over the years watching the past version of yourself slip right back into your body, and take over your daily routine through the next few days of your life.

You had an obscene amount of anger that soon dissolved into a deep sadness, and that sadness shorty developed into a morbid curiosity.

You spent an unreasonable, and certainly unhealthy amount of time searching your old lover’s name on tabloid websites and social media, just to see if he’d given a statement on his whereabouts, or a statement about anything at all.

After about day three of your minor internet stalking, you’d had an epiphany while sitting in your office.

You still have Steve’s number saved on your phone.

That was, of course, if it hadn’t changed between now and the years that he’d been off living in the past.

Something about knowing that you were just one text away from him made your heart race with a mixture of nerves and interest. Just one impulsive decision, and you could change the whole trajectory of the rest of your life.

If you got back in contact with Steve, you might not ever be willing to leave him. You refused to make that mistake again.

Until you did.

After reading Grant his nightly bedtime story, then wrapping him tightly in his little bed, you’d decided to treat yourself to a glass of Chardonnay.

It’d been a weird past couple of days. Your time traveling ex had randomly appeared back into your life, your coworkers seemed to get on your nerves a little more every moment you were around them, and Grant had a temper tantrum in the grocery store that afternoon over a chocolate bar, which gained judging stares from customers, and may have made you feel the slightest bit inadequate.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you filled your glass again, because two glasses can’t hurt, and again, since I kinda deserve this extra one, don’t I? The next thing you knew, the bottle was empty, and you were texting Steve for the first time in years.

Y: Is this Steve?

You watched as three white dots hovered on your screen for a moment, disappeared, then came back once again.

S: Is this Y/N?

Y: Yes.

Y: We should tlak

Y: *talk

S: I agree.

Y: So lets

Y: talk

S: I don’t think this is a conversation for texts.

Y: Then call me???????????????????

S: We should talk in person.

Y: Im not gonna do that sober

S: You’re not sober?

Y: do you think id text u sober u big fuckni asshole

S: I guess you’re right

S: So are we gonna talk?

Y: no ur gonna meet me at b cup cafe tomorrow at 10

S: AM or PM?

Y: AM I’m off

S: Are you sure you want to do this?

Y: Say yes before i change my mind

S: I’ll see you there

Y: Bye babydaddy

S: ????

You promptly deleted the messages, tossed your phone somewhere on the sofa, and sunk into the seat. Even in your not-completely-sober state, you already felt the all too familiar sense regret. You dragged the blanket that hung over the top of the sofa over your exhausted body, and closed your eyes, wishing that this was somehow all a dream.

----

It was not all just a dream.

You woke up with dried drool on your chin, and a deep pit of bad feelings and regret in your chest. Of course, you ignored the bad feelings and got ready, business as usual. You successfully dropped Grant off at school with little complications, and found yourself perking up a bit more.

Yet, something still felt slightly off. You reached into the passenger seat for your phone, and as you looked down on it, saw the familiar notification of a calendar event.

10:00 AM b cup coff w Steeb

You groaned out loud at this. There was no obligation for you to go meet with him, but perhaps going and talking to Steve would bring you some sort of closure. Maybe then you could move on with your life, get with a nice guy who would mean it when he tells you he won't leave you, who loves Grant like he’s his own biological offspring, and to take care of the both of you through thick and thin.

You gladly daydreamed of this fantasy man while driving to the shop, but you couldn’t help but to see Steve’s face doing all of the aforementioned things. Before you even fell pregnant, that’s what you’d truly wanted with Steve. To be a family. To have your definition of home be with your people, rather than a place.

Entering the coffee shop, you briefly ordered your drink before looking around and find Steve sitting alone in a booth, mindlessly stirring around the liquid in his cup.

Timidly, you approached the booth, before setting your purse down and sitting across from him.

“You... you came?” He looked up to you with almost watery eyes.

“Of course I did,” you tried to hold yourself back from mentioning something about following through on your word. You wanted this to be as civil as possible. To build bridges rather than burn them.

“I just didn’t expect to see you in person again. And, you know, you were running a little late,” he added.

“Well, you try waking a five year old up and getting him ready for school every day,” you expelled a humorless chuckle to deflect from the slight agitation you were feeling.

“While you’re hungover?” Steve asked with a bit of a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood.

“While you’re hungover,” You confirmed, genuinely laughing now. It felt good, natural even. You’d kind of forgotten just how pleasant things used to be with Steve.

“Did you mean it last night?” he interrupted the laughter with a serious look.

“I honestly cannot remember anything I said last night. Elaborate, please?”

“That he’s mine. Your son.” He watched you silently nod, then began to speak again, “Wow, I just didn’t realize… How did that happen?” He looked down into his drink nervously.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to recall the exact details, but when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much...” You trailed off, and looked up as a barista called a butchered version of your name.

You were glad to have an excuse to get up and leave for a moment. Adrenaline was racing through your body, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure before you erupted into tears, or had some sort of angry outburst.

Bringing your cup back to the booth, you sat down and took a sip of the scalding drink, “Where did we leave off?”

“I believe you were giving me the birds and the bees?”

“Right! Well, I think you know the rest. I’ll tell you more about Grant later. Right now, I want to know why you left and suddenly decided to come back.” You genuinely felt proud of your delivery. This was the moment you’d practiced in front of the mirror for years, and you didn’t even butcher it.

Steve shook his head and looked into his drink once again. It was so hard to look at you, let alone make eye contact with you, when he knew that he’d been the one to give you an ocean of grief. Yet, he was somewhat intrigued by hearing that his son’s name was his middle name.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Steve began.

“Good thing we have time,” you crossed your arms as you spoke.

“Well, waking up in a whole new time period isn’t exactly the easiest thing ever. You and me both know I missed it there, and it’s always been more than just nostalgia for me. I truly believed that I belonged back there.”

Of course, you had an idea of this, but hearing Steve confirm what you’d already thought made your insides twist.

“But I was so wrong. More than anything, I guess I was in love with a romanticized version of the past. Of Peggy.”

Hearing her name, especially from Steve, made you bristle. You wanted to interrupt him at this point, but it wouldn’t do you or him any good to become hostile while he explained himself.

“By the time I realized, it was too late. I figured you’d already moved on and found someone else to take care of you, and the world, this world, didn’t really need me anymore. But something possessed me to come back.”

“So you’re telling me that if you stopped being an idiot that just assumes things, we could’ve worked this out before? That you could’ve been an active participant in your son’s life?”

“I guess that’s a good way to interpret that story. I know I haven’t been in his life, but is there any way that I can still meet him?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. He’s just like,” you sighed a bit to yourself. “He’s like a carbon copy of you. Especially his personality, but like, down to his mannerisms. I always struggled to understand how he could be so much like his dad, and never even had met him. You’ll love him.”

“Even if I didn't like him, I’d still love him.”

“How do you still manage to be such a cheeseball all the damn time? You think you’d be able to make it to dinner tonight?”

----

At exactly 6:30 on the dot, your doorbell rang, and before you even had the chance to think about opening it, Grant already was at the door, and opening it. You cringed on the inside, and made a mental note to have another conversation about stranger danger with him.

“Do I know you? Who are you?” you heard your child question from the other room as you set down the last of the plates in your dining room.

“I’m Steve, your mom’s friend... and…” Steve nearly spilled the beans to his son, but didn’t want to cause any more damage than he’d already done. “Her friend.”

“That’s so cool! I have friends too, like Nick, and Stacey, and,” you’d rushed up to the door and wiped your brow, internally hoping that you hadn’t just smudged the makeup you’d put on for the occasion.

“Hi, Steve, come on in,” You beckoned him in, and pulled Grant to the side, quietly scolding him before leading Steve into the dining room. “Grant! This is the last time I’m telling you about opening doors, okay?” He nodded obediently, then followed you and Steve.

“Can I sit next to your friend, Mommy?”

“Is that alright with you, Steve?”

“More than fine.”

Grant sat down next to him, and scooted a bit closer than necessary, while you sat across from the two of them.

“I have to in… enter a gate you now. Because Mommy never brings any over her friends over. I didn’t know she had any friends.”

You blushed a bit at this, at your son’s overdramatic behavior, and his admission that you’d become a bit of a loner.

“Go ahead, pal,” Steve chuckled heartily.

“When did you meet my mom?”

“Before you were even born.”

“Wow! That’s a long time. You’re really old. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“I’ve heard T-Rexes are pretty cool.”

“Have you met any?”

You nearly spat out your drink at this. If only your son had known.

“Nope, never. Have you?”

“Hmm, not yet. But they’re my favorite dino too. Now your ‘gating is over.”

You couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter at the bizarre exchange, but you were glad that your son and Steve were getting along so well.

The rest of dinner went pretty similarly, with Grant bantering with Steve, and Steve indulging him. You could tell that the relationship between the two of them was something that came both naturally and easily. You couldn’t help but to grin as Grant began to ramble about how cool Steve was, and how he swore he was better friends with Steve than you were.

“Mommy, isn’t Steve the best? You guys should totally get married so he can have dinner with us every day!” he swooned. “He even kinda looks like me, right?!”

That’s why you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.

“Grant, Steve is… He’s your dad,” you said quietly.

Grant nodded, then slurped up a noodle, “That’s why he’s so cool! He gets it from me, right Mom?”

“That sounds right to me,” You glanced up at Steve, and noticed his surprised expression. You mouthed something along the lines to ‘He’ll process it later,’ and waved a dismissive hand, before going in for another bite of food.

----

After putting Grant to bed, You and Steve stood at your kitchen sink, bumping elbows occasionally as the two of you silently worked together to wash and dry dishes.

The domesticity and familiarity of the action brought you an obscene amount of comfort. You remembered how you once believed that this is what your future would look like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve beginning to talk.

“Doesn’t this remind you of life after the first snap?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of. You’re not off the hook yet, by the way. You still have plenty of explaining and proving you’ve changed to do.” You set the last cup in the cupboard, then dried your hands off.

“I know, I know,” Steve began.

“We don’t even know if you’re ready for fatherhood. But right now, I kinda don’t care. I really just want you to kiss me.” You reached up to Steve’s cheek, and he pulled you in for a soft and chaste kiss.

You’d never felt more at home.

——

me with this fic:

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #angst #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #request

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imagine-darksiders · 3 years

Note

I hope you feel better soon! When you're feeling better would you be able to write something about jealous Strife? That ask made me curious

“Do you really have to go?”

From your seat at the vanity, you heave an exasperated sigh and set down your lipstick, swivelling around in the chair to face the Horseman who stands sulking at your bedroom door.

“Strife,” you begin patiently, “I'm afraid my answer still hasn't changed since you asked me ten minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I know. It's just -” Averting his gaze, he crosses his arms and grumbles, “I thought we were gonna hang out tonight.”

“And I told you two weeks ago that I wouldn't be around tonight.”

You can't see his expression, hidden as it is behind the silver helm he wears, but you're fairly confident in guessing that there's a pout on his lips.

“And besides,” you add, “We hang out all the time. You practically live here. Hell, you've already turned my spare bedroom into your own personal den.”

'Den' is an understatement. Your spare room is now less of a bedroom more of an Earth museum, filled from floor to ceiling with all of the things that Strife has picked up simply because they took his fancy. For the most part, it's all junk. There's an obsolete gaming console that no longer works, a skateboard, a horse figurine made of glass, no less than three Nerf guns and not a foam dart between them...

Honestly, you're loathe to tell him to get rid of any of it, though you fear you might have to soon if you don't want the mess spilling out into the rest of your house.

Giving your head an exasperated shake, you check the time on your phone and stand up, throwing your bag over a shoulder. “Listen, it's just one evening with an old friend who I haven't seen since before the apocalypse. We can hang out tomorrow, I promise. But now, I really need to dash, he'll be here to pick me up any minute.”

Pausing to stuff your phone into the pocket of your trousers, you head towards the door, hardly noticing that the Horseman is still standing in front of it with his arms folded neatly across a broad, armoured chest. It's only because you glance up right at the last second that you manage to avoid a painful collision. “Um...Strife?” you ask, halting in your tracks, “... Move?”

In response, he simply leans back against your door and begins to inspect the claws on one of his gauntlets. “Nah... I'd rather hear about this friend of yours. You've never mentioned him.” Pausing, he shoots you a sly smirk that you can sense more than see, his golden eyes flashing, “You guys close?”

With a roll of your eyes, you mimic his posture, crossing your arms and giving him a glare that would make Death proud. “Strife, what's gotten into you? I just said I'm going to be late for my friend.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he returns coolly, “Just wanna know that my friend isn't walking into a trap.”

“Oh wow – a trap? Really? Of all the-” You cut yourself off and raise a hand, massaging at your temple. “Okay. Now you're just being ridiculous. It's not a trap.”

“Why don't you let me come with you, just in case?”

“Because!” you cry, throwing your arms up, “It'll be awkward! You remember what I taught you about third-wheeling?”

He remembers it well, in fact. Just like he remembers everything you teach him, committing the moments to memories that he'll carry with him until the day he snuffs it. He only has you for less than a hundred years, after all, and he's determined to remember every last bit of it. The Universe must have thought itself pretty hilarious when it placed you in his life. Of all the creatures in all the realms, the one he ends up caring about most just so happens to be the one with the shortest lifespan. It makes him want to hunt down the Creator and shoot a hole where a heart might be.

Shoving down his contempt for the omnipotent bastard, Strife returns his attention to you and lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “I don't mind tagging along. You know, just in case I have to watch your back.”

Your response hits him harder than a crack from Fury's whip. “I don't need you to watch my back every second of every day! Stop being so paranoid.”

The Horseman is too proud and obstinate to ever let the stab of hurt show in his eyes, but he can't ignore its presence in his chest.

He is not being paranoid... He's being a good friend - watching your back, looking out for you, all the things a friend is supposed to do. Not that he's had much experience being friends with a human. Or anyone, for that matter, who isn't a horse or his siblings. It's been a learning curve for both of you, though more-so for him, and so far, the most prominent challenge he's faced is balancing the line between being a friend and being an overprotective nuisance.

It perhaps hasn't helped that, ever since humanity was resurrected, the pair of you have been nigh inseparable. He's grown used to your presence – is dependant upon in, according to Death; a fact that Strife had vehemently tried to deny, at least until he learned that you'd made plans. Plans with someone else. Plans that didn't involve him.

It was only once he'd taken some time to reflect and found that he had indeed been glued to your side for months, that he realised the awful truth.

His older brother was right, after all. The smug ass.

A shudder rolls over the Horseman's body and he blinks, realising that in the few seconds he's been lost in thought, you've managed to reach around him to push open your bedroom door.

“Hey!” he complains as you all but shove past, and he – being the soft-touch that he is – simply allows himself to be moved aside. Grumbling, he follows you across the landing and down your sweeping staircase until you reach the front door and stop beside it.

From outside, the thunderous roar of an approaching, automobile's engine thrums in his ears.

“That's him!” you chirp, and Strife hates the way your face lights up at the mention of whoever 'he' is.

Throwing open your door, you head outside and try to pull it shut behind you, yet find your efforts abruptly halted by the Horseman sticking close to your heels. He ducks through the low doorframe and moves to stand beside you, his viciously keen gaze raking over the vehicle that idles at the end of your driveway.

By his own admission, Strife has always had a weakness for those 'motor bikes' the humans like to ride, with their shiny gaskets and noisy engines. But this one – the one upon whom sits a tall, lanky human – Strife does not care for.

“Anton!” you call out, flying down the driveway, splaying your arms out wide in anticipation of a hug.

'Anton' laughs brightly and kicks down the bike's stand as he leaps from the seat, his own arms only just opening in time to receive you when you crash into him with a whoop of delight.

As soon as those long, stringy arms wrap around your shoulders, the Horseman's hackles raise like a feral beast's and the sudden presence of Anarchy begins to claw at the confines of his ribcage. For a few moments, he wrestles with himself, weighing the pros and cons of letting his most primal form take over for a while, but after envisioning the disapproving frown that's sure to adorn your face should he pull such a stunt, he bitterly shoves a reluctant Anarchy back down and settles upon prowling down the gravel drive after you, glaring hard at the stranger the entire way. Admittedly, he is a little surprised at himself for the animosity. On the whole, he's always maintained a good rapport with other humans. He likes the species, a lot. So to suddenly be filled with such a strong disliking for this particular human strikes him as odd and out of character.

Then, Anton's hands slide down to your lower back and another bout of indignant fury flares up in the Horseman's belly. After what he thinks is, quite frankly, an obscene amount of time, the stranger releases you, holding onto your shoulders and leaning back to get a better look at your face.

“God, it's good to see you, Y/n,” he drawls, eyeing you from head to toe in a way that makes the Horseman's skin crawl, “I can't believe it! You've changed so much!”

Grinning shyly up at him, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and reply, “Hopefully for the better?”

His own smile widens. “You were always at your best, even before the apocalypse. Still, being Humanity's Hero seems to be really suiting you, huh?”

At once, your expression falls and you pull a face, extracting yourself from his grasp. “Oh god, don't call me that. I've told the media till I'm blue in the face - the Horsemen are the ones who deserve to be called heroes. Oh, speaking of whom...” You turn to face the looming presence at your side and gesture up to Strife. “I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine.”

Anton's gaze leaves you long enough to flick over towards the Horseman and you watch as he does a very comical double-take, his eyes bulging for a moment before he manages to compose himself again and lifts his hand in greeting. “Hey! You must be one of those Horseman guys. Death, right?”

Noticing that the Nephilim's hands curl suddenly into tight fists, you interject, “Uh, actually, this is Strife, Tones.”

“Tones?” He really does try to keep the disdain from his voice when he switches his burning, golden glare between you and the other human. “I thought you said his name was Anton?”

How many other friends do you have?

“It's a nickname, Strife,” you reassure him quickly, “This is Anton.”

A nickname... Of course. The Horseman's stomach twists itself into a knot and he can't stop himself from blurting out, “How come you've never given me a nickname?”

The human concept surrounding abbreviated names was a fairly easy one for him to grasp when he first learned of them. They're terms of endearment, meant to signify familiarity and friendship.

He's your friend. He's familiar. Why doesn't he have a nickname too?

"Ugh, I'm sorry. We'll brainstorm nicknames when I get back," you huff, "But the restaurant will give our table away if we don't hurry. So -"

Turning to usher Anton onto the bike, you hardly manage to take one step before a large, metal hand is sliding around your forearm and tugging you gently to a halt. Biting back a groan, you glance over your shoulder, ready to scold him, but one look at his slouched stance and averted gaze stops you in your tracks.

"Uh. Hey, Tones?" you call, never taking your eyes off the Horseman's mask, "Can you give us a sec?"

The human behind you is careful to check that Strife isn't looking when he rolls his eyes and grunts in acknowledgement before he turns and saunters over to his bike, leaning up against it and pulling out his phone.

Once Anton has turned his attention elsewhere, you raise a brow at the Horseman and wait, patient, expectant. After working his jaw for a moment or two, he finally looks at you properly and tightens his grip on your arm, not until it's painful, but enough that you understand what he's trying to convey in the gesture.

He really doesn't want you to go.

"Strife?" you prod.

Reluctantly, he lets out a rough exhale.

Although he's far better at it than his siblings, watching Strife try to openly express emotion isn't unlike watching someone pull their own teeth out with a pair of pliers. The process is slow, and it's best to sit back and listen to him rather than try to encourage him to speak. So, that's what you do, and eventually, your patience is rewarded when after another few seconds of silence, he offers a strained chuckle and says, "This guy isn't my replacement, is he? I know the bike is cool, and all, but..."

"Your replacement?" you laugh, incredulous, "Strife. I don't know how it worked with Nephilim, but for humans, having another friend doesn't cancel out any existing ones."

He knows that. He's not some whelp who never learned how to share. Frustrated with himself, the Horseman huffs and turns his head to the side, glaring hard at nothing in particular.

"Hey..." An old habit kicks in, and before you can stop yourself, you reach up to trace your fingertips along the underside of Strife's helm, tipping it back towards you and smiling at the bewildered look in his yellow eyes. Confident that he's paying proper attention, you pull your hand away again and state, "I could search the whole universe from top to bottom for the next hundred, thousand years, and I'd never find a friend who could replace you, okay? So stop worrying. Your ranking as 'my best friend' is not under threat."

"M'not worrying," he grumbles, but inside, his heart is aglow with the warmth of your words. At the back of his mind, Anarchy rumbles happily. You said best!... He's your best friend? He tries to recall you ever calling him that before. Then he realises that, no, you can't have done. He wouldn't forget a moment like that. Not in a million years. Just like he won't forget how he feels right now after hearing those two words.

Oblivious to the fate you've just sealed for yourself, you clap your hands together, bringing the conversation to what you hope is an easy conclusion. "Good. In that case, will you please let me go with Anton now?"

The Horseman's mood sours almost immediately, but at least he peels his fingers off your arm.

"Hey, kid?" he address Anton, packing his voice with all the menace and threat that he can muster, "If I find out she gets hurt on your watch, I'll introduce you to a couple'a friends of mine..." His hands fall less-than subtly to his holsters, where the silver handles of Mercy and Redemption glint in the sunlight.

Anton's face pales upon seeing the Horseman's legendary pistols.

"Stop that," you scold him, smacking the back of your hand against the armoured chest plate before turning to your other friend and calling, "Come on, Tones, let's go."

Anton all but throws himself onto his bike, kicking the stand back and jamming his keys into the ignition whilst you climb on behind him, albeit far more gracefully. The man tosses you a helmet and you shove it onto your head.

Strife's eyes remain settled upon your hands that wrap snugly around Anton's waist and it takes everything in him not to grab you, haul you off the bike, drag you back to your home and lock you inside.

“I'll be back late tonight,” you call over the roar of the engine as you begin to pull away, “There's food in the fridge if you want to eat! And my Netflix is still logged in! I'll see you later, okay!?”

Strife doesn't respond, not because he can't think of what to say, but because there would be no point. Anton has already peeled away and pushed the bike to a reckless speed. All the Horseman can do is stand there at the end of your driveway, his shoulders drooping dejectedly.

After you're nothing more than a dot on the far horizon, he tears his eyes off you and lets them fall to the tarmac near his boots.

He never notices you looking back.

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #Strife #reader #jealousy

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

Warm Beach Afternoons (ksj + jjk)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Jungkook x Seokjin Genre: smut, PWP Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~2.6k

Tags: smut, PWP, cockwarming, dirty talk, watersports, oral sex, Omorashi, rough oral, semi-public blowjobs, coming untouched, deepthroating

Summary: It's far too hot for any sort of nonsense, Jin thinks. Jungkook has other ideas.

A/N: Second Kinktober fic, day 4: cockwarming. This fic was inspired by this lovely piece of artwork.

The sun was boiling hot. Too hot to reasonably be outside, Jin figured. And he was determined to take every opportunity to bitch about it to anyone that would listen. The rest of the group ignored him, as they always did – disrespectful kids, he did something wrong raising them. The makeup noonas only laughed and offered him ice packs or cold water.

And of course, there was Jungkook – in a league of his own, set out to torture Jin at every turn. Jungkook heard Jin was overheating, and his priority became laying on the elder, leaping on him, hugging him, or otherwise smothering him, at every turn.

Not that Jin really minded. For as much as he’d complain about Jungkook, that young man had his heart locked away in that beautiful bunny smile. They hadn’t mean to get so involved. Jungkook was the baby of the group, he was the elder. He knew he should be taking care of Jungkook – and that didn’t mean stealing kisses from his perfect mouth or routinely railing him into the bed. But despite knowing he shouldn’t, Jin couldn’t help it. He’d found himself falling hard and fast for the golden child. The other members knew, but opted to look the other way; so long as they didn’t get themselves outed in some horrible way, it didn’t bother them.

Most of the time, they were careful. Jungkook was clingy with everyone, so nobody thought twice when he’d leap into Jin’s arms, or chose to crawl into his bed while on a trip somewhere. Even the fans thought it was oh so sweet and brotherly. Of course, there were whispers, usually from international fans, about what if, maybe they are – but nobody gave them much thought. It was harmless.

What wasn’t harmless was the current situation. Jin was trying his best to remain cool as they shot the last few photos from his group shot with Jungkook and Yoongi. However, every time the cameras paused – and a few times when they weren’t, Jin found himself with a very large, heavy, and hot Jungkook leaning on him.

He pushed his arms off for the fifth time in fifteen minutes, whining. “It’s too hot,”

“It’s not that bad,” Jungkook complained. He back hugged Jin once more, blowing cool air on the back of his neck. Jin gritted his teeth, hating how nice it felt.

“Just a few more in the lifeguard seat,” the cameraman said, clearly mistaking Jin’s expression for annoyance. “Then you three can relax. We’ll shoot a little further down with the other four.”

“Sounds good,” Yoongi said. “That spot of shade is calling my name.”

Jin chuckled. “Agreed. You go first,” he offered, motioning his head to the lifeguard stand a few feet away. Yoongi headed for it, crawling into it and settling in for the photos. Jungkook went next, and Jin took a moment to shake the fabric from his skin, sticky with his sweat – and Jungkook’s.

Jin climbed into the stand last, working with the photographer to take the photos he needed to take. When the man finished, Jin slumped down in the chair, closing his eyes and letting the sun beat down over his skin.

“Gonna get a sunburn,” Jungkook scolded. Jin opened his eyes, looking down. Jungkook was climbing up the lifeguard stand, effectively pinning him there.

“Then let me get down, I’ll join Yoongi in the shade.”

“Nope,” Jungkook leaned forward, going nearly nose to nose with Jin. Jin pulled his head back, glancing over to make sure they were alone.

“Jungkook,” he warned.

“I’m horny,” Jungkook said softly.

Jin’s eyes widened. “When did you become so damn brazen.”

“We’ve been so busy working on the photoshoots for the single… You haven’t let me touch you in days.” Jungkook leaned on the stand, forcing Jin to open his legs or have his knees crushed by Jungkook’s weight. Jungkook slid his palms up Jin’s bare legs, squeezing his thighs under his shorts. “I miss you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jin whispered, relaxing a little at Jungkook’s firm, steady touches. His eyes fluttered shut. “We’ll play together tonight, okay?”

“What about right now?” Jungkook offered. Jin felt him shift and opened his eyes, surprised to see Jungkook climbing down. His hopes for freedom and relaxation were dashed, however, when Jungkook stopped a few feet lower, his torso still against Jin’s legs. He palmed Jin’s cock through his shorts, meeting his gaze. “We have time.”

“We don’t,” Jin argued, gasping a little when Jungkook squeezed.

“We can make time. I can hurry.”

“It’s far too hot for this,” Jin complained even as Jungkook pulled his cock from his swim trunks.

“Drink some water then.”

Jin swore softly, chuckling. “Also, we’re gonna get caught.”

“Doing what?” Jungkook asked, his eyes wide and innocent. “I’m just playing with my hyung on the lifeguard tower,” he leaned forward, sliding Jin’s half hard cock into his mouth.

Jin jerked forward, grabbing Jungkook’s back. Jungkook took him the rest of the way in his mouth, reaching up to grab Jin’s back. He knew, from where the rest of the crew was, it did probably look like they were just wrestling.

The only problem was that Jungkook wasn’t even sucking. No, he was holding Jin’s cock in his perfect mouth, only moving his tongue every now and again. Even as Jin swelled to full hardness, Jungkook remained still. Jin pinched his side.

“Come on, hurry up and make me come,” he hissed, watching the others frolic down the beach.

Jungkook pulled his mouth off Jin’s cock with an obscene pop, his lips wet. “Come? I’m not blowing you.”

“Then what’s your face doing on my crotch?”

Jungkook smirked. “I thought your cock was cold. I’m warming it for you. I can’t make you come, we’re in public.”

Jin gritted his teeth. Jungkook grinned and slid his mouth back over Jin’s cock, nuzzling down as far as he could.

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Jin hissed. “I’m pounding your ass tonight for this.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes up. He pressed his tongue up, applying pressure to Jin’s cock. At the same time, he let his teeth graze dangerously over the sensitive shaft, and Jin’s eyes rolled back.

“Be careful,” he growled. Jungkook moved his teeth back, his lips curving into a smirk around Jin’s cock. The little shit knew exactly what he was doing.

No matter how Jin tried to move, to stimulate any part of his cock, Jungkook remained still, entirely relaxed. It wasn’t as if they were atop a lifeguard stand with their entire group and about twenty crew members a few hundred feet away.

Jin was in agony. This was worse than edging; he was sweating, turned on, and desperate. Yet, the lack of stimulation - and ever constant stimulation - of Jungkook’s mouth had his cock in a state of half hard, half soft. Jungkook’s mouth was warm and wet and comfortable…

Jin hissed. “Let me go,” he panted. “JK, I gotta piss.” He pushed at Jungkook.

Jungkook looked up at him. He winked. Instead of moving, he closed his lips more firmly around Jin’s cock and shifted. One hand slid down, and he pressed hard on Jin’s lower belly, not breaking eye contact with Jin. Jin’s throat closed when he realized what Jungkook was getting at.

“N— Here?” Jin panted. He and Jungkook had played with piss a little, but never in public. Not that he was opposed… Frankly the idea had his heart racing. He looked back down the way at their group and then to Jungkook. “You sure?”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared. He nodded as well as he could, shifting just a little. He buried his fingers in Jungkook’s shaggy purple hair, leaning forward just a bit. A few drops came first, and the thought of them landing on Jungkook’s tongue nearly made him moan. He closed his eyes, focusing on the warm, wet, tight feeling of Jungkook’s mouth. He willed his bladder to release, pushing away thoughts of arousal flooding in.

There it was. A spurt of piss first, and then a gush. And there, a full, steady stream. He could hear Jungkook gulping rapidly, and feel the warm piss filling his mouth. It was pooling around the base of his cock as Jungkook struggled to swallow it down. The amount of water he’d drunk throughout the day was coming in handy, he realized. He looked down, meeting Jungkook’s gaze.

He was tearing up, his nostrils flaring as he breathed between gulps of Jin’s release.

“Cockwarmer, huh?” Jin whispered. “Looks like what I actually have here is a nice, portable urinal, isn’t that right?”

Jungkook’s eyelids fluttered shut. Jin laughed softly, stroking his cheek. “Almost done, baby. Keep swallowing for me… Fuck, Jungkook. Drink it all.”

Jungkook gave a full body shudder, his fingers tightening on Jin’s lower back.

Jin pulled his cock back slowly as his stream ended, letting Jungkook swallow the last bit of piss. He opened his mouth when he was done, showing Jin his proof.

“Good boy,” Jin murmured. He tried to tuck himself away but Jungkook made a noise of annoyance.

“I was a good cockwarmer and urinal,” he whined. “Don’t I get a treat?”

Jin glanced at the others. “They’re about done.”

“And you’re hard already and always come fast after you piss. I can do it.” Jungkook smirked. “Wanna know something that’ll speed things along?”

Jin raised an eyebrow. Jungkook shifted, standing up a little higher on the ladder of the stand. Jin could see the front of his shorts, tented from his own erection. Jungkook pulled Jin’s cock free and kissed the tip and looked up at Jin. “Slide your hand in the front of my shorts.”

Jin shifted, sliding his hand down gently, past Jungkook’s tight stomach, the tie of his trunks, the soft, curly mat of his pubic hair…

“Oh...” Jin breathed, his cock throbbing. “Is that…”

Jungkook grinned. “I came in my trunks while you were pissing in my mouth.”

Jin moaned softly. He ran his hand over Jungkook’s cock, feeling the slick squish of his come, clinging to his skin and hair.

Jungkook sank down on his cock, his shoulders heaving a little when the tip bumped his throat. He began to suck and swallow, barely moving his head. Jin grunted behind closed lips, playing with Jungkook’s come covered cock. It was a secret between them, this kink. If it was a kink. An association, really.

The night that Jin took Jungkook’s virginity, they began with foreplay. Which turned into Jungkook sucking Jin’s cock; not a bad arrangement if Jin could say so himself. Jungkook had been in his jockey shorts at that point. And, in his ever so eager way, ended up coming prematurely, spilling his release in his shorts. Though he’d been embarrassed, Jin had never been more turned on in his life. He’d come so hard he saw spots just from Jungkook’s mouth on his cock, and his hand down the from of his come filled shorts. From that point on, Jungkook filling his underwear with a surprise load of come was the quickest way to get Jin to orgasm; and Jungkook was good at it. Jin was starting to wonder if the guy could come on command with how easily he came in his shorts during foreplay, even after all these years. It wasn’t that he was always premature; having sex, Jungkook could go for hours sometimes. But if the mood struck… It happened.

Jin whined softly. Jungkook was mouthing along his cock perfectly. “So dirty, JK,” he teased. “Filled your trunks with all this come… And not even being touched. You squirted while your hyung was making you drink his piss. So, so dirty.”

Jungkook pulled off Jin’s cock with a wet pop. He began to stroke him in short, fast strokes. “Can’t help it,” he panted. “I just love your cock… Being your cockwarmer made my dick so hard. I was wishing you could just lay me in the sand and ruin my asshole, right there… And then you started pissing, I couldn’t help but get so much hotter. It tasted so good and it makes my belly feel full and warm, I just had to let a load go.”

Jin shuddered, his orgasm nearing. He pulled his hand free and licked the come from it, earning a happy little gasp and sigh from Jungkook.

“Well, I’ll need to punish you tonight,” Jin murmured.

“What will you do?”

“I think I’ll need to pound your ass… Make you scream loud enough all our members hear.”

Jungkook’s eyes rolled back. He nodded quickly.

“And maybe after,” Jin muttered, “I’ll leave another round of piss in there, make you plug it up and hold it until your stomach hurts.”

Jungkook whined and nodded again. “Please, hyung…”

“We’ll see,” Jin murmured. “Swallow it again, I’m close.”

He pushed Jungkook’s head down, sighing happily when Jungkook took his cock to the root. A few quick bobs of his head and a few swipes of Jungkook’s expert tongue, and Jin was coming, spilling hot ropes of come into his soft mouth.

Jin felt his entire body relax, the tension draining out of him with each spurt. “Perfect,” he sighed.

Jungkook pulled off him with a pop and tucked him away. “They’re coming,” he whispered.

Jin straightened up and grabbed Jungkook, shifting their posture to look like they were wrestling on the seat as the others neared.

“You’re going to fall,” Namjoon called as he approached.

“He’s trying to smother me,” Jin complained. Jungkook popped his head up, shaking it to try and fix his hair.

“I’m just making sure you’re cozy, the breeze from the water might be cold.”

“Troublemaker,” Jin grumbled. Jungkook laughed and crawled down the ladder. Jin glanced down, relieved to see his crotch was not showing any bulges or wet spots. The makeup girl rushed up, fixing his hair without question; she was used to fixing mistakes from their wrestling on shoots. Jin crawled down as well, watching Jungkook from afar. He wondered what she’d say if she knew that mess of Jungkook’s pretty hair was from Jin’s hands, pulling and tugging. Or the slightly smeared lip color was because his lips were around Jin’s cock… She wouldn’t be happy, that’s for sure.

Jungkook glanced over, meeting Jin’s gaze and offering a sweet smile as she fixed his makeup. The photographer was talking about the last few group shots, but Jin could barely pay attention. One word he heard for sure though, was water.

“We get to play in it?” Jin asked, perking up immediately.

The photographer thought for a moment and nodded. “Sure, I think that would be cute photos perhaps. But we’ll do that last, so if you guys get your outfits wet, it won’t be a big deal.” Jin nodded. He leaned over a little, allowing the makeup girl to fix his hair and face when she came at him.

They set to work after, finishing up the beach shoots and heading to the ocean. Jin tried not to keep staring at Jungkook, but it was impossible. He did, however, try not to notice (at least visibly) when Jungkook made sure to go at least waist deep into the water, inconspicuously shifting to make sure his trunks were well soaked in the crotch area.

As the shoot wrapped up and they dried off and changed back into their normal clothing. And, of course, as was the pattern, Jungkook took that opportunity to drape himself over Jin, warming every inch of his body that he could reach. But Jin didn’t complain this time. This time he leaned into it, savoring Jungkook’s embrace. Pesky or not – Jungkook was his happiness, and he’d never trade a second of time with him for anything else in the world.

#thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #jinkook #seokjin x jungkook #jungkook x seokjin #kim seokjin #jeon jungkook #jin x jungkook #jungkook x jin #mywriting

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otomegema · 3 years

Text

title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

��Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x oc #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujustu kaisen #help ive fallen into gojo brain rot and cant get up

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moralesispunk · 3 years

Text

Laundry Sundays

Pairings: Marcus Moreno x gn!reader

Warnings: hint towards smut but nothing detailed

Summary: You used to hate laundry day until you got to spend it with Marcus

a/n: sorry this is a day late but I was at work all day yesterday!

You had always hated laundry day. It was dull and monotonous and seemed to never end no matter how many socks you paired or pants you folded.

You had always hated laundry that is until you moved in with Marcus.

Since living with Marcus, even the most boring and tedious housework felt like a romantic day out.

It would always start the same. You would wake up with kisses being placed up your arm until his soft lips reached your neck. He would then whisper a good morning in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, before cuddling you for five more minutes.

Breakfast was a lazy affair; you, Marcus and Missy sitting around the kitchen table and drizzling an obscene amount of syrup over your pancakes to the sound of Sunday morning radio. Once Missy was back lounging in front of the TV, you and Marcus would get to work.

Marcus told you that he loved laundry day because you were down to your shortest sleep shorts and one of his t-shirts - the sexiest outfit you could wear in his eyes. He made you feel like the most beautiful person in the world, even though you looked like you had only just rolled out of bed, as his eyes followed you about throughout the day.

You loved laundry day because Marcus never seemed to be able to keep his hands off of you. When you stood on your toes to reach for the detergent that Marcus insisted on keeping on the top shelf, his hands would reach for the top of your thighs that were now bare as they peeked out from the shorts.

His hands would run up your legs before gripping at your hips, swaying to the music still playing from the kitchen radio although it was now muffled from the closed door. Hot, wet kisses would be placed up your shoulder and neck before he would go back leaving soft bite marks, chuckling into your skin when your head hit back against his shoulder. His hands moved around your body under your (his) t-shirt to play with the band of your shorts and then

beep - beep - beep

The first load of washing would finish. Marcus would sigh and begin to empty the wet clothes into the dryer while you got the next load of dirty clothes ready.

With both sets of clothes now spinning around the machines, Marcus would walk back over to you while growling a where were we? lifting you up on top of one of the bouncing machines.

You would kiss until you were both breathless, your hands roaming around his back while he gripped at your thighs in a way that was sure to leave loving bruises behind. He would resume in leave bite marks down your shoulder while you left marks along his chest. His hands would reach up enough to play with your waistband once more and then

beep - beep - beep

He would groan and his head would hit against your shoulder before lifting your off the machine. No matter how many Sunday’s were spent in this room, behind a closed door, with you two alone your timing could never work out, getting to lost in kisses to go any further.

The rest of the afternoon would be spent pairing up socks and folding pants and you could not imagine a more perfect Sunday if you tried. Every so often your hips would bump, short kisses would be shared and Marcus would sing along to the radio in your ear... and then laundry day would be done for another week.

Yes, you had always hated laundry day but now you had the perfect laundry day partner it had become your favourite day of the week.

Part of @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday!

Permanent tag // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x you #marcus moreno x y/n #marcus moreno x gn!reader #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno fanfic #marcus moreno fanfiction #marcus moreno oneshot #marcus moreno headcannon #headcannon #writer wednesdays

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sisterofleatherfrog · 3 years

Text

Star Wars Kinktober day- 3

Prompt: Under-clothes bondage

Fives x Sub! OC (AFAB)

Orla is another one of my OC’s that I sometimes play around with in my fandom daydreams. She’s very tall (think around 6’10), and her appearance is non-human (I’ll definitely have to elaborate on that in art form later), and she is Five’s big-titty goth gf. She has some self-confidence/worth issues, but Fives is literally so goddamn smitten.

Some art as a sorry for missing day 4!

Tags: Bondage, collar, bf chooses gf’s clothes and dresses her, pre negotiated kink, safewords, cunnilingus, dirty talk, daddy kink

Words: 2440

🖤💜🖤

“Fives? Do- do you, could you help me?” Orla asked, a tremble present in her voice. They’d planned this outing the previous week, going out to a beer garden to have lunch and meet with a few of Five’s brothers and their significant others. She’d made friends with a few of the troopers and their partners and was definitely looking forward to having a few drinks with them. That wasn’t all though, after confirming the date and time Orla had got to thinking. They’d been playing around with a lot of things recently in the bedroom; the collection of ropes, binders, among other things in their special little place was a testament to that. They had yet to try and bring it out of the bedroom, but it had been teasing Orla’s mind all week, and maybe…

Footsteps came up to the ajar bedroom door and it swung as it opened, her lover’s head peaked in. “What’s the matter Meshla? The dress zipper stu-” Fives abruptly stopped as he saw her, kneeling nude in the middle of the bedroom with a several meter length of red rope before her. The door lightly knocked the wall as he came fully into the room and looked down at her from a few paces with no little interest in his eyes. “What’s all this then,?”

He didn’t sound like he was upset in any way and Orla felt confident in explaining: “Well, remember us speaking of trying more adventurous things?” Fives nodded, eyes shining with that impish edge she knew so well as they roved her lush body. She bit her lip, “I must confess I’ve been thinking more on it since these plans were made, and maybe… Could you tie me up, daddy? I want to be your good little slut wherever we go together.” She lowered her head, but still her eyes stayed on Fives where he looked down on her.

For a moment he was quiet, seemingly stunned as everything, her nudity, the use of THAT word, and the begging all came together to short-circuit his mind. Before she could start to regret her decision though, he drew in a shaky breath and drew a hand down his face until the wide grin on his face was revealed to her. He shifted his weight, the movement catching her eye and bringing it down to his crotch where he was beginning to stir. “Shit meshla,” he breathed. “Do you mean it? Do you really want to do this with me?”

Orla nodded, a desperation that surprised her causing heat to lick throughout her abdomen and fill her head. Fives came and knelt before her, now looking up to her dark eyes, partially shadowed by her coal black hair. “I need your words Orla, I need to know you really want this and aren’t doing something just to please me. Maker, do I want you like this, but not at the expense of you being miserable.” The corner of his mouth lifted, revealing one perfect dimple. “I want this to be good for you too.”

A different warmth suffused her, she knew he loved her, and the amount of care he always gave her made her feel like a princess. Leaning her head down into a keldabe with him, she smiled before moving her lips to brush over his tattoo and down to his ear. “I want this, daddy, I truly do. I want to be extra good for you.” Orla punctuated her words by sliding a hand over his thigh and up to cup the bulge at his crotch. Fives groaned and grabbed the both of her wrists to stop her hands from wandering any further.

“You win this one, and you’re the best girlfriend ever!” He punctuated his sentence with a quick smooch before dragging her to stand with him. “Turn around meshla and lift your hair, let's see about getting you into this.” He started by placing the rope around the back of her neck, making sure that even halves were on either side of her neck and going down her front. Coming around he gently but confidently gripped it, already knowing the alignment of loops and knots he had to do. Within the valley between her breasts he made one knot and left a kiss on her left breast, below he made another and gave her right breast the same treatment. Just above her belly button he made one more knot, then dropped to his knees and started to trail kisses down from there, taking a moment to dip his tongue into her belly button and making Orla giggle, before he went lower and transformed it into a gasp. Five’s tongue followed the curve of her lower abdomen, trailed along her upper thigh, before he pulled back, his right hand taking its place before moving in and parting her labia with two strong, skilled fingers.

Fives looked into her intently, studying the configuration of sensitive flesh at her apex for a moment before coming forward to kiss her lips, making out with her slit as his tongue made love to her clit. She gasped down at him, hand coming to clutch at his shoulders and the top of his head, whatever she could reach to steady herself. He was- “Oh, Fives, right there love!” He moved deeper into her heat if that was even possible, both hands having moved to her ass cheeks to pull her closer. His lips were locked around her clit, alternating and simultaneously sucking and licking with that tongue of his, that said such alternatingly inflammatory and jesting words, skilled and silver now on her. Often he would move, delve into her, kiss along her thighs and tease, build her up to a wholly satisfying end. This was something else though, a hunger both desperate and wild, focused on one goal alone, tracing along that lone and narrow path with a single minded purpose. He went on, groaning into her and holding her still as she shivered writhed, her size making no difference in his ability to hold her right where he wanted with his strength.

Orla’s breath was escaping her in gasps and high whines, keening her need to him and she was drawn further and further up that path by him, his desperation infecting her as well. Oh he wasn’t taking his time at all, but she was adoring this direct and needy side to him. Her legs were turning to rubber and Five’s hands slid into the curve below her ass to hold her even more firmly, surely leaving marks that would be seen there later. He kept licking and laving, latched on so firmly it was as if he was feeding from her all the while she fed off the pleasure she got from him, creating a self-sustaining organism in a perpetual state of bliss and ecstasy. She felt him tying a new knot and keened into the otherwise quiet air of the room, her head tilting back and chest arching as she felt it winding ever tighter within her womb. Tighter and tighter, lick by suck, she was on the edge and just had to stretch a little further-

With a wild cry she fell, the knot unwound with a blinding intensity and she shook as her cunt clenched over nothing again and again. Fives kept at her throughout her orgasm, firmly pressing his tongue to her as she danced against it in order to carry her down. When she was passing pleasure and entering into the territory of too much, Orla put a hand on his head and gently urged it away from her and he released with an obscene pop sound. He gazed up at her, eyebrows drawn down into an expression of yearning and his eyes shining as bright as her slick on his chin. The sight was enough to draw an honest whimper from her.

“There, there meshla, you’re alright,” he cooed, now rubbing her legs and sides in order to sooth her. “You did so well, coming for me like that all wet and sweet. I was so happy when you told me how much you wanted to try something public that I just couldn’t help myself. I love you so, so much my beautiful Orla. ‘Want you to always feel good.” He rambled against her lower stomach as he rested his forehead there, praise spilling out of him like water from a too full cup. They stayed like that for a little while until she felt like she had more control over her body, the shivering and shaking dying down with her leveling breath. Finally he lifted himself and stood, hands coming to rest against her lower back as he delicately pressed her to him. “Are you good? I didn’t mean to be too much, especially before we got somewhere to be.”

Orla smiled widely, “It wasn’t too much Fives, in fact it was very much appreciated.”

He smiled back, “Well that’s good, I’d hate to have to tell the boys we had to cancel because the pussy was just too good.”

She snorted, “Oh I’m sure you would, lover.” Suddenly feeling a little shy, she continued, “Now, can you please help me finish getting ready? I don’t think I can do all these knots and twists myself.”

He reached up to cup her cheek and draw her down for a quick kiss, “Oh meshla I’d be more than happy to assist. Though, after that, and this being your first time trying this, how about we put some panties on you so the rope won’t rub as much?”

This man- “What pair should I wear then daddy?” always so considerate of her.

His grin was downright feral as he looked at her before taking her hand and leading her over to her wardrobe and pulling out the proper drawer, said drawer full of a rainbow of lace, cotton, satin, and mesh. Orla loved fun panties and Fives took full advantage of that, loving whenever she would ask him to choose for her so that he could picture what lay under her clothes all day. She was partial to a few pairs, but he most always chose the pair he plucked from the bunch now, a royal and baby blue number dyed in a marble pattern with ‘Want some?’ written across the ass in aurebesh. He ducked down and she again steadied herself with his shoulders as he now lifted each of her legs to fit into the slip of fabric, before drawing them up to her hips and smoothing the hems.

Then, after checking with her once again, he returned to the previously forgotten rope and from the last left knot, drew the tailings down to her apex. Twisting the ropes together some so that they’d sit between her labia, he drew them between her spread legs and went to her back to draw it up to the initial loop at the back of her neck. Pulling so it was snug but not tight, he brought both halves to come out to her hands, “Hold onto these for me love.” She complied and he came back around the front of her, taking a moment to admire what he’d done already. “Oh, yeah, it’s all coming together.” Orla snorted and lightly slapped his chest, he raised an eyebrow, “Is that the sort of game you want to play right now?”

“Maybe later.” She teasingly promised and he grinned back at her, now looping the rope from under her arms and between the first and second knot, the rope turning back on each side to return behind her back the way it had come. He followed and looped each side around the lengths that ran up her spine before indicating she should hold the rope again. He did the same process between the second and third knot and around her back before bringing up what was left of the rope and tying it off on the third knot. He stepped back then, eyes roaming up and down the planes and curves of her body, now decorated with blue and tied off with red, like a present just for him. He looked for a long, long while.

“You know what to do if this gets to be too much and you want to stop, right?”

She nodded seriously, “Five taps to your thigh, or say ‘Zillo’.”

He smiled like the sun, “Now how are we going to cover all this up?”

“Oh I really don’t know daddy, maybe you could help me with that too?”

“Orla, I have no idea what I did to deserve you but I love you so much, and I mean that with my whole ass.” He confessed with all seriousness.

Laughing again, she pressed against him and leaned down to kiss his wonderful mouth. Breaking apart again they went to inspect her clothes hanging in the closet. He reached in and pulled out a black dress with a halter top and flowy skirt that would fall about halfway down her thighs. He grinned, “Feeling like being a little risky today as well by any chance?”

“Yes please my love!” Slipping it over her head, Fives did up the three clips that secured the neck. Leaving the last bit up to her, Orla found a top to layer over it to better obscure the bondage beneath, and finished it up with a traditional self-tying corset from her people, quickly done up by pulling the two cords to either side of her and tying them in front. Meanwhile, Fives had quickly gone to change his shirt and give his face a wipe, both having been soaked by her earlier. Returning in a casual purple button up with red stitching along the collar, he looked like a treasure to be found in her people’s queen's harem.

“Looking good lover.” She told him as she bent to pull on her boots, the three inch platforms bringing her height to a full foot above his own.

“Quacta, stifling.” he simply responded.

Walking towards the door he asked, “Are we all ready to go meshla?” he turned and she

smiled shyly again, feeling a blush turning the purple shades in her skin darker.

“Maybe not quite?” she intoned, moving back to the closet she opened it and pushed aside a few of his shirts to reveal a certain rack of jewelry, consisting of leather collars, some with rings on them, others otherwise decorative. “Which one do you think I should wear out today, daddy?”

In the end, they were a little late getting to the beer gardens.

🖤💜🖤

Oh I really liked writing this one. I know so far all my works have been coming out early in the morning the day after they’re supposed to be posted but I am going to try and fix that! Like the Tup and Aurelie work on the 1st, I feel like this one may come back with a part 2 because I’m really vibing with these two (and I hope y’all are too just as much as I am).

Kinktober works

Masterlist

#sisterofleatherfrogwrites #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #star wars #the clone wars #sw #tcw #sw tcw #fives #ct-5555 #arc trooper fives #fives x oc #fives is my favourite smart dumbass

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wolfs-hunt1 · 4 years

Text

Wolf Kisses 3

Pairing: Stucky x Shapeshifter reader

Word count: 1897

Warnings: none on this chapter, sorry for any typo.

A/N: ok ... I think I already know where I want this fic to go. I have currently 3 more chapters planned, but since I got stuck writing this (it covers only half of what I had planed for this specific chapter) I might take longer with the others. I’m just publishing this one like this because I feel like I’ve been stuck long enough and I might need a new perspective. I hope you all like it!

Tag lis is OPEN

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

Part 2

You were in the communal kitchen, having breakfast with Bucky and Steve when Tony walks in and stops when he looks at you. he whistles slowly and looks between the two men.

"You go Capsicle, finally getting on with the times I see." he winks at them and slaps Bucky on the shoulder when he passes him on the kitchen, going in for the coffee pot to make himself a cup. This makes Steve choke on his coffee and a scowl to appear on Bucky's face.

"What is that supposed to mean, tin man?" Bucky grumbles, turning on his seat to look at Tony. Tony merely looks at the three of you and makes an obscene sign with his fingers, making a collective groan to leave you all.

"First of, eww, we're still eating!" you say "And second of, I'm still recovering from an injured leg, I don't think those activities are advisable." you sass back, looking at Tony's shocked face when you tell him you're the injured wolf the two super soldiers brought home.

"What? But…"

"Wolf got your tongue?" you are now openly laughing at his reaction, with Steve and Bucky snickering beside you. "By the way, I have some really strong words for you if you think I'll let you do any testing in me without me bitting back." you are glaring at him by the end of your sentence, making sure he knows you don't want any probes anywhere near you whatsoever.

"Will a bite from you make me turn?"

"I'm not a werewolf, I'm a shapeshifter."

"Sure thing Lupin, whatever you say." he picks his cup and leaves the kitchen, trowing that comment over his shoulder.

Tony didn't talked more to you that morning. But in the afternoon you did got a manila folder under Steve's door with information about your species, that Tony had collected from one of Shield's servers, along with a written note that a room would be prepared for you that same afternoon so you wouldn't have to sleep on Steve's couch. Yeah… like you had been doing that anyway. But maybe a room would be nice. You would be able to give them their space and you could have yours.

You have dinner alone with them in their apartment that night, and after, you are shown to your new room. There were some clothes set out for you, that seamed about your size, so you wouldn't need to keep wearing Steve's and Bucky's oversized shirts, although to be honest, they were quite comfortable.

You take your precious time in the bath that day, making sure you are thoroughly clean and relaxed before sleeping on some clothes and flopping belly up on the bed, just staring at the ceiling. The soft shadows caused by the lights from the buildings outside made the room appear cold, dark, and empty. Made you feel alone. When did you stop feeling like you were alone in the first place? You had barely noticed it… but now that it was missing, you craved it once more.

You didn't want cold and dark and alone.

You wanted toasty warm, and cuddly. You wanted the comfort both men provided without really asking it of them. You wanted the security they gave and how they made you feel like you didn't have to be alone ever again.

You get up and walk to the door before stopping abruptly. No. You couldn't. You had intruded on their lives enough already. And now you had your own room, and not even one excuse to go and see them. You were alone once more and you had to live with it. So you crawled back to bed and pulled the comforter atop your head, hiding underneath them to keep warm.

Your night was restless, you got little sleep, and had sore muscles from the lack of rest. Your eyes were still a bit puffy from the time you burst out crying with no idea what you were even crying about. Overall, you looked like a freshly crawled out of a grave zombie. That was plainly clear when Tony and Sam spent the entirety of breakfast teasing you.

"So… where's Steve and Bucky?" you ask, not having seen them yet that morning.

"Last I saw them was when we went on our morning run." answered Sam, between bites of his toast.

"FRIDAY, were are Capsicle and Barnes?" Tony quips from his seat, eyes never leaving his tabled and occasionally sipping his coffee.

You looked at him weirdly until a disembodied voice ranged all around you. "Captain Rogers and Sargent Barnes are currently on the training floor."

"What was that?" you ask a bit startled with the voice that came from thing air.

"That was the AI that powers this building. You can ask her anything if you ever need help around here. She'll also let you know what floors you have access to and what floors are off-limits." that could come in handy.

"Cool… do I have access to the training floor?" Tony merely hummed, and so you went back to finish your breakfast. Sam comes with you to the training room when you both finish breakfast, him going to the locker room first to change to something lighter than the sweater he was wearing.

You go ahead and open the door, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and grunting could be heard right away, the overpowering smell of the leather of the machines hitting your nose with the slight tang of sweat. You can see both men in a sparing mat, trowing and dodging punches right and left, with barely time to take a breath.

You don't want to distract them, so you lean against the wall, just watching them. Roling muscles expanding and coiling with each new movement an entrancing sight. Sam shows up a few minutes later, wearing a black t-shirt with the Avengers logo on it… subtle. He walks up to you and smiles.

"Do you spar?"

"Oh… not really. I only fight when others get too close for comfort. And even then I have sharp teeth and claws to help me out. Like this, " you point with a hand at your body, "I'm basically useless." he chuckles at you and nods at one of the punching bags.

"Care to help?" you nod, following him and grabbing the bag so it wouldn't move too much whenever he punched it. You could feel the strength of his punches traveling through the bag, and you could also tell he was holding back, maybe so he wouldn't make you fall down. "So… wolf girl. What's it like to live as a wolf?"

"It's thrilling. The rush I get when turning, when running or hunting, it's amazing. The power flowing through my veins, making me faster and stronger, making me be able to see better in the dark, and to ear and smell more enhanced than when I'm human? It's addictive really." you can see the fascinating in his eyes with every word you say, his focus on punching the bag slipping away so he could better hear your story. " But all extremely draining, the more time I spend as a wolf the weeker I progressively became, and if I get injured, my body can't even turn back."

"So like, you can only be a certain amount of hours turned?" he asks, resuming his punchings when he notices he had fully stopped his training to look at you.

"No, with experience, and by pushing my limits I get to extend that time. The most I've staying turned was about three weeks, it was during a blizzard, and honestly, being human in that situation would have killed me." a loud bang reverberates in the room, making the both of you look over to the two super soldiers. Steve was pinned to the ground, whit Bucky's metal arm in his throat pushing him to stay down while he straddled the blond's hips, also pinning his legs so he couldn't move.

"Ready to give up, Stevie?" Bucky taunted, leaning furder down to whisper something on his ear, making him shift his head softly to look in yours and Sam's direction before looking back at Bucky.

"I can do this all day." Steve manages to topple Bucky over and get the upper hand, pinning him now to the floor mats. Gripping Buckys arms to the side of his head, sitting on his thighs.

"Get a room you two." Sam throws at them, making you laugh at the light blushes on their faces when Steve helps Bucky up.

"No need to get jealous birdbrain, we can share you between us." Bucky quips back, just to rile up Sam. Your friendly bickering is stoped when Natasha walks in, with a serious face.

"Fury is calling all of us for a meeting. Now." she leaves the training room without waiting for an answer.

"(Y/N), why don't you go up to your room and order something for lunch from FRIDAY, we'll probably take a long while at the meeting." Sam leads you to the door, while the three of them go to the locker room to change before the meeting.

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

Being cooped up in this fancy room wasn't your idea of fun. In fact, you've been living so long on the wild that being in this place as long as you have is starting to make you climb the walls. Almost literally.

Maybe you should have taken Sam's offer to throw some punches and let out some pent up anxiety. Maybe a walk outside would help you calm your nerves. You walk to the elevator and after some awkwardly pacing around, you speak up.

"FRIDAY, can you take me to the ground floor please?" you can feel the moment the elevator starts to move, and a short few minutes later the doors open up to a massive lobby. "Thank you." you step out and walk along the vast space, boots making some squeaky noises every few steps. The doorman tipped his hat at you and opened the door, bidding you farewell.

The air outside was warm, but the cool wind that was blowing felt refreshing on your skin. You pick a direction and start walking, not caring much about where you're going. The streets were busy, but no one really paied any attention to you, making you blend in naturally with the city.

You are so distracted by your own thoughts that the next thing you know you are walking at a park, the lush green canopies of the trees making the air cooler and more refreshing. You walk to a bench and sit there, looking at the small playground infront of it, watching the children playing.

You longed to be able to run as a wolf once more, but it wouldn't be smart to do it here, the bystanders would only call for the authorities and you would be shot on sight. So running freely would have to wait. You wondered how the meeting was going, what they were talking about, and if it involved you. You where living there rent-free after all, and with a questionable background to warrant you lots of questions about it, none of the superheroes were doing.

Taking a deep breath once again you decide to return to the tower, you had been away for far too long without having told anyone.

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

Part 4

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