#;;🖤 TURN AROUND MY HEART [ic] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 months ago

Text

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 7] l Harry Castillo

Summary: you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: smut (+18), oral (f!receivig), protected sex (congrats!), fluff, friends to lovers (maybe?), kissing, flirting, wine, flowers

A/N: you've been waiting for me and I really wanted to give you this chapter. today i had my last class before the break. my first year of college is behind me! yeeey! i'm really happy and proud of myself. this week, between studying, working, and creating projects - i wrote this thing for you. i hope you like it. your comments and messages are honey to my heart. thank you for being with me.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

New York greeted you with rain, but the sun was still shining in your heart and head. The whirlwind of work you fell into right after your return made your head spin. However, that's how a few days ended with your phone turned off and no one answering your emails.

Right after you got back, Susan quickly told you how Mrs. Kruger-Waltz had almost forced her to tell you the name of the hotel you and Castillo hadn't stayed at.

"I'm sorry." she said. "She was... She was just awful."

"Maybe she just knows what she wants. She knows her position." you replied, scrolling through your email inbox. "You know, if she was a guy, no one would care so much."

"Are you defending her?" Susan looked at you in surprise.

You shrugged. "I don't know, I just noticed it."

You had some time to think about what happened in the hotel restaurant and what Harry did next. Diane was hard and mean to you, but then again she wouldn't have achieved the same status by being sweet and loving, would she? She moved in a man's world and accepted their rules, played their game.

"Harry would never do that." Susan commented as she sat down at her desk and went back to work.

"Harry's some kind of unicorn or gem." you chuckled and Susan smiled back. "We're lucky, my dear."

"I'll buy him a mug for Boss' Day."

"Good decision."

Castillo hadn’t been in the office all morning and hadn’t returned until after lunch, and even then one of the accountants had entered the office right behind him with a stack of papers under his arm.

The soft hum of a computer and Susan’s typing filled the room. It took you almost an hour and a half to go through your email. You were in the middle of checking Harry’s presence at some meeting when you heard the sound of an incoming message. You reached for your phone and read it.

[Harry Castillo]: sent a picture.

You frowned and clicked on the message. A picture appeared on the screen, the one Harry must have taken of you when you weren’t looking. The wind blew through your hair, and you shielded your eyes with your hand, pointing at something. You felt a pleasant tickle around your heart and were about to reply when another picture appeared. One of those “hand-held” ones. Harry was wearing black sunglasses and was smiling, and you followed him, sipping your iced coffee.

[You]: Really? When did you take it?

[Harry Castillo]: I like it. You can't blame me. I have more.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't help but smile. This guy was impossible.

[You]: You have a meeting with your accountant. You should focus on work.

Three dots appeared, bouncing off each other. Finally, his answer showed up.

[Harry Castillo]: Boring. You're much more interesting. What are you doing this Friday?

“Is everything okay?” Susan leaned over her computer.

“Umm... Yeah. I just...” You looked up from your phone and waved her off to let her know it was nonsense. “I got a text.”

“Did that text make you laugh?” she asked, resting her chin on her hand. “Please tell me his name, how tall he is, where he lives, and how much he makes. Handsome?”

“You’re scaring me,” you replied quickly. You typed, “I have to check my schedule. I’m really busy. I have a lot of work to catch up on,” and sent it off. “It’s nothing.”

“Yeah, sure.” She winked at you.

Harry must have been really bored — his reply came just seconds later.

[Harry Castillo]: I’ll wait patiently.

[Harry Castillo]: Wait! I’m your boss. So I want to tell you that as much as I appreciate your work, I'd like to spend a nice Friday night with you even more. Dinner and wine?

Damn! You were so unprofessional! Your cheeks burned with fire as you typed the next words.

[You]: Will there be kissing?

The dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared. You imagined Harry trying to text while talking to his accountant. Finally, his message lit up your screen.

[Harry Castillo]: A lot.

Excitement and fear filled you as you prepared for your date with Harry. It shouldn’t be like this. You’ve known each other for over a year, you’ve spent hours talking, you’ve watched him date other women, and you thought he was the coolest, most charming man in the state. But uncertainty was building under your skin as you put on your dress and applied your lipstick.

What if this evening wasn’t what you both expected? Maybe you’d just given in to the hot LA sun, and here all the excitement would die down and it would just be awkward? You’d seen the women Harry had dated, and you weren’t sure if you fit the mold.

But there was something about Harry that made you want to give in. You wanted to take the first bite, jump in, and never look back. The risk was enormous, but you couldn’t help yourself.

When you stepped out onto the sidewalk, he was already leaning against the car door. The sleeves of his black sweater were pulled up slightly, and when his gaze landed on you, it lingered there for a moment. As if he wanted to remember the sight for a long time.

“Hi,” he greeted you as you approached him. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. You’re not bad either.” He smiled gently.

“I reserved a table for us. You weren’t there yet.” Harry said, stepping away from the door and opening it wide. Before you could get there, however, he reached into the backseat, and a bouquet of spring pink peonies appeared before your eyes.

“For you. Since it’s a date, it has to be flowers.”

You must have had a surprised look on your face because Harry just smiled. You took the bouquet from him, still unable to believe he was taking all this so seriously.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.” You managed to choke out.

“Not like you.”

Your cheeks must have already turned the shade of flowers, but Harry didn’t say anything to that. You slid into the backseat of the car, the door slamming shut quietly. A moment later, Harry was sitting next to you, and the car was gliding through the streets of the city, which was melting into the setting sun. Despite all the stress, it turned out that the tension you expected did not appear. Quite the opposite. You talked freely - about the coming week, about the film you wanted to see at the cinema but did not have time to go, and many other things.

If it weren't for the driver's voice announcing that you were already there, you wouldn't have even noticed the car had stopped. Harry got out in a flash and as soon as you grabbed your bag, he opened the door for you, holding out his hand to help you.

"What's this place?" you asked as he led you into the glass building and through the elegant lobby.

"You'll see for yourself," he replied, clearly enjoying himself. "My friend recommended it. I think you'll like it."

"Have you been here before?" your gaze wandered to the crystal chandelier above you, but you made your way to the elevators.

"No, I was waiting for a special occasion."

You were that occasion. He didn't want to say it, afraid of embarrassing you, but as soon as he found out about this place, he wanted to take you there immediately.

Harry loved watching him take you to such beautiful and exclusive places as this. Simple awe, your eyes widening as if you wanted to see even more, and he could give it all to you. In return, he never asked for much, your presence was enough.

The elevator quietly and quickly took you to one of the top floors, and when the doors opened, you found yourself in the vestibule of an elegant restaurant. Dim lights, soft music, and pleasant smells filled the air. Harry had to take your hand and pull you towards the young man standing in the doorway, because your eyes wandered over the decor.

“We have a reservation. Castillo.” he said.

“Of course.” The man glanced at the tablet, then smiled. “This way, Mr. Castillo. Ma’am.”

The soft carpet muffled your footsteps as you walked along the tables. The guests hidden in their booths paid no attention to you at all. Harry’s fingers were still intertwined with yours as you walked out onto the glassed-in terrace. One of the tables was set up at the back, a little further away from the others, and that’s where the man led you.

“Please sit down,” he said, smiling and gesturing to the chairs. “A waiter will be here in a moment to take your order. Would you like some wine?”

“Yes, please. I hear you have some great chocolate soufflés.” Harry replied, pulling out a chair for you.

The man's face lit up. "Yes, sir. They'll be perfect for dessert."

He nodded and left you alone. Harry sat down across from you. The soft light of the lamps reflected in his dark eyes, and a smile never left his lips.

"Congratulations." You said, resting your chin on your hand and looking out the large window at the city covered in the last rays of sunlight, night already lurking around the corner. "This place is really... wow."

"I'm glad you like it. I wanted it to be something special."

You looked at him in silence for a moment, as if you were thinking about something. Only after a moment did you speak. "You could take me to a hot dog stand and I'd love it too, Harry. You know that, right?"

He knew. God! He nodded, because he knew it. He once took you to a really expensive restaurant, and on the way back you told him to stop because you wanted fries. “How was I supposed to eat these micro-portions? You could take me here and I’d be so much happier.” It was adorable.

You never looked at him through the prism of money, and it was refreshing. Harry could be sitting next to you in sweatpants, eating takeout, and you treated him the same way you did when he was wearing a suit worth several of your salaries.

The waiter showed up a moment later to take your order, you and Harry went over each item on the menu in detail, sharing your thoughts, and then he brought you wine.

“I wonder,” you began, sipping the sweet wine. Harry raised an eyebrow in curiosity, “how is this different? We’ve been to places like this before. Maybe not in this kind of atmosphere, but still.”

He thought for a moment before answering. “I think,” he began slowly and carefully choosing his words, “that today I can look at you without shame. And you look stunning.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief. “Really?”

“I brought you flowers too.”

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“And we’ll kiss.”

You looked at Harry like he was crazy, but his spontaneity and sincerity were simply endearing. “I do it very well, don't I?”

You sighed and took another sip of wine. “Very much. I don’t understand… If you’re doing it so well, why am I here? So many women…”

“Stop it.” Harry said quietly, his voice low and firm, cutting you off mid-sentence. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You blinked, not knowing what to say, so you decided to stay silent. Harry leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. The atmosphere between you changed – not tense, but something different, more intimate.

“You’re here because I want you to be here. Not someone else. Not any other woman. You. It’s not about how many people I could be with—it’s about how few people make me feel this way.”

You opened your mouth, but you couldn’t get a word out. It was hard to say anything when your heart was pounding in your chest and Harry was looking at you so intensely. He reached out and took your hand before you even noticed. He stroked it with his thumb.

“I know you have a lot of doubts and worries, but I’m not doing all of this because it’s a ‘date.’ I really want this. Every bit of it.”

You let out a breath you had been unconsciously holding in your lungs. “You’re so serious.”

He nodded. “Dangerously.”

“Then I guess I should think about it seriously, too.”

Harry smiled. He lifted your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. Light flickered in his dark eyes so intently focused on you. Something had changed between you. It wasn't about flirting anymore, but about certainty and safety.

The waiter's arrival pulled you out of the bubble that had closed around you for a moment. It was nice. You sat there, eating really good food, drinking wine and looking at the city that was slowly getting brighter with the glow of the lamps. You didn't feel any worries or fear anymore, because what had appeared between you and Harry was like a warm balm that enveloped both of you. Everything seemed fine and normal, and he did everything to make you feel at ease.

“Oh my!” you sighed as you entered the elevator, the doors closing quietly behind you. Harry looked at you intrigued. “I left the flowers in the car. They’ll definitely die there.”

“Oh no!” he frowned as you told him the truly devastating news. “We can’t let that happen. I have a vase at home if you’re interested.”

The words came out of his mouth so naturally that no matter what you answered, it would be the right answer. No pressure, a simple hint that you understood immediately, and the decision was yours. He waited, you could see it in his eyes.

“Crystal?”

“Of course.” He nodded.

“Hmm... I don’t know if I have a vase.”

He narrowed his eyes, his lips lifting into a gentle smile. “You’re going to risk their lives?”

You bit your lower lip, trying to hold back the smile that crept onto your lips, but you failed miserably. After a moment, you both burst out laughing.

"I shouldn't," you finally said. "They're such beautiful flowers. Besides..." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Besides, we haven't kissed yet."

That was the sign Harry had been waiting for. In an instant, his warm hand rested carefully on your cheek, and the scent of his cologne filled your nostrils. He quickly managed to look into your eyes, and you already felt his soft lips on yours.

Jesus! How much you missed his lips. He kissed you gently, carefully, as if testing the water, but when you touched his neck, wanting to get closer, he completely lost himself. Two steps, you felt the cold wall of the elevator behind you and Harry's solid, warm body in front of you.

A soft tongue broke through the barrier of your lips, causing you to moan quietly. The bastard smiled.

“Do that again and I’ll lose myself in you.” He whispered, but didn’t give you time to respond, stealing your breath again. Colossal hands held your waist tightly, your fingers slipping into his soft hair. It was just you and Harry, nothing more.

You didn't remember how you got to his apartment. Your brain had shut down all rational reasoning the moment you got into the car, when Harry took your hand, when he kissed the back of it tenderly, and when you drove through the city with impatient smiles on your faces.

There was no doubt - you knew what you were getting at, but you also felt no pressure or hesitation. If such a thing existed, Harry would have accepted it without resentment and, like a true gentleman, would have driven you to your apartment without complaint. Desire and excitement hung in the air that almost quivered between you.

You hadn't drunk enough wine to be drunk, unless you could be drunk on his presence and how he treated you - with respect, care, tenderness.

His lips were on you again when you entered the apartment, as if he had missed the taste of them in the few minutes of travel.

"F-flowers, Harry..." you managed to whisper.

He looked at you, confused. He completely forgot you were holding them in your hand. That fucking vase was in some cabinet, now he had no idea which one.

However, you solved that problem in a flash, throwing them on the wooden table by the wall, your hands once again grabbing his face, pulling him into a kiss. He wanted you. Jesus! He wanted you like he hadn't wanted anyone else in a long time. The wall behind you appeared suddenly, but thank god for that, because otherwise you would have slumped to the floor.

"Are you sure you want this, baby?" he asked, pulling his face away from yours for a moment, Harry's eyes dark as night. "One word and..."

"I want it." You whispered and saw the relief on his face. "I want you, Harry."

He wanted to hear it. Kisses landed on your neck as he pulled you away from the wall and slowly led you towards the bedroom. The switch by the door turned on the small lights by the nightstands. The bedroom was large, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city at night and a bed covered in white satin sheets. You paused for a moment.

Harry's hands slid up your arms, sending warm shivers down your spine as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I can't believe you're here with me. Are you actually real?"

You placed your hands on his chest. The strong beating of his heart was palpable beneath your fingertips. "Yes, I am."

His hands moved to your back, slowly and meticulously to the zipper under your neck. Harry tilted his head. "May I?"

You nodded, not trusting your lips. You held your breath as you felt the zipper slide open, slowly sliding the dress off your shoulders, letting it fall gently to the wooden floor.

"You're stunning," he said, and you knew he was serious.

It was all in his eyes, which, with admiration, as if you were the eighth wonder of the world, moved from your face, through your cleavage, the curve of your breasts and lower, lower... He took a deep breath. "Forgive my lack of eloquence, but I have no idea what to say now."

"Then maybe don't say anything, Harry." You suggested. Your hands grabbed the hem of his sweater and slowly pulled it up. He had a beautiful body and you really missed seeing him like this. Small freckles on his chest, broad shoulders and strong arms, soft stomach. You realized that it had been a long time since you had stood in front of someone so exposed and vulnerable, but with Harry you felt no shame or embarrassment.

He kissed you again, hungrily and lovingly, pulling your hips to his so that you felt the distinct bulge in his jeans. There was no point in waiting. The belt was unbuckled, you tugged on your jeans to slide them off.

“On the bed, darling,” he mumbled in a low, deep voice. You sat down obediently on your heels, watching Harry take off his jeans, leaving them carelessly next to your dress, and a few seconds later he was by your side. Gently, without breaking the kisses, he pushed you onto the satin sheets. Sweet weight on you, hands exploring your body as if he wanted to memorize the map of your body. His lips slid down to your neck, collarbone and cleavage. The scent of your skin mixed with the scent of your perfume and went to his head.

“I want to taste you, baby. Will you let me?”

He felt you shiver under his fingers, tensing nervously. Dark eyes lifted to you, watching you carefully.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked.

“No, it’s just… It’s been a while since I last did this.”

He smiled softly. “Baby, I’ll take care of you, I swear. If you tell me to stop, I will.” You bit your lip lightly. “I want you to feel good, baby.”

You nodded. You couldn’t help but give in to those eyes and smile. Fingers slid under the waistband of your panties and slowly, carefully, slid down.

The first kiss on your stomach, another below your belly button, then on your mound, and then you sighed softly as you felt Harry’s hot lips on the inside of your thighs.

“You’re already throbbing, baby…”

You buried your face in your hands, feeling the warmth creep up your neck. Harry brazenly lay between your legs, throwing one over his shoulder and teasing your sensitive center with his warm breath. The first lick, a gentle kiss, and after a moment he sank into your pussy as if it would save his life. Tongue and lips worked hard and you couldn't cover your face anymore, trying to grab anything that would give you stability. A loud gasp escaped your throat as he sucked on your clit.

You were so turned on, your body so hungry for what was building inside you, that you couldn't control anything. Harry placed a hand on your stomach, trying to hold you down as you tried to lift your hips, maybe even escape from what you were feeling.

“Stay like this, baby. I’ve got you.”

And he really did have you. When he looked up, saw you like that, he knew he’d never forget you. Eyes closed, lips parted, gasping for air, chest heaving in sharp breaths. You were on the edge, and with one thrust he pushed you towards that abyss, to watch you fall apart under his lips and tongue. He already knew that this sight would stay with him forever.

You weren’t fully conscious. The orgasm that had shaken your body was still pulsing under your skin as Harry kissed your thighs and with a scoundrel’s smile he hovered over you again.

“You’re so sexy…” he said, “I could spend hours there.”

“You can’t.” you panted, shaking your head, “I want you inside me, now.”

You lifted yourself up, kissing him hard and pulling him with you onto the bed. He was so hard in his boxers that when you slid your hand in there, wrapping your fingers around his cock, he sighed through clenched teeth.

“Condoms.” he groaned. “I have…”

“Where?”

He nodded towards the nightstand, and you arched your back and reached over, pulling out a foil packet. You opened it deftly as Harry pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard and already leaking cock.

The condom was slid on in a quick motion, and soon the tip was brushing against your entrance. Your gaze moved from the space between your thighs to your faces almost simultaneously. No words were needed.

Harry slowly pushed himself into you, stretching you pleasantly, all the way to the base. You needed a few seconds for both of you.

“Jesus…” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “You’re squeezing me so hard. I can’t get over this, I don’t want to.”

Gentle hands stroked his shoulders, slipped into his soft hair. You were so warm, he could feel your heartbeat, he could feel all of you. This moment should stop, he wanted to feel this forever.

“Move, baby, please.”

Your sweet voice was like an order he wanted to fulfill. The first movement of his hips and you both sighed quietly. Harry lifted himself up on his elbows to see your face, to kiss you again, his cock moving hard and confidently inside you. You quickly found a rhythm together, trying to remember to breathe, but it was hard when you wanted to taste each other’s lips at the same time so much.

“It feels so good, Harry…” you moaned quietly, “Just like this.”

He grabbed your thigh with one hand, squeezing his fingers tighter. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your face, his hips slamming harder and he felt your walls tighten around his cock. You were close, faster than he expected, but Harry knew perfectly well that he wouldn’t last long either. You opened your eyes unexpectedly.

“I want to be on top.”

You surprised him, but he agreed without hesitation. He pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, and a moment later you were on top of him, positioning his cock so that it would slide inside. God! His eyes almost rolled back as he pushed himself deeper into you than before. You rested your hands on his chest and started moving, setting a fast rhythm.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he saw you tilt your head slightly, closing your eyes and letting out quiet moans that you were no longer suppressing. His hands on your hips set the rhythm, strong and determined

“Harry…” you moaned “I’m so… So close.”

“I can feel it, baby. Let go, I've got you. I've got you…”

He lifted himself up, wrapping his arm around your body and using his other hand to press you harder, as if he wanted to go even deeper. His lips sucked on the spot on your collarbone. He wanted to mark you, you were his, more than ever.

A shiver ran through your body, your nails digging into Harry's shoulders, but he didn't let go. He pressed you harder against his body, helping you through it. The fire must have burned your thighs, but you didn't stop. A few more strokes and Harry came with a groan, clenching his hands so hard he had to leave marks.

Your hot bodies were sticky with sweat, but you were still as close as lovers could be. It was only after a few long moments that Harry lifted his head, his eyes full of delight and pleasure. His hand cupped your cheek, as if he was afraid you were real.

Words weren't needed, you felt the same. The kiss was soft and sweet, mixed with smiles, quiet giggles, careful movements of his hands. You felt like nothing would ever be the same again.

And it felt good.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @nrschuster30 @maried01 @lunariantears @thatesqcrush @suzysface @youkeeno @legoemma @nuo0n @sarahhxx03 @hazzzy418 @pedrofan @peepawispunk @readingiskeepingmegoing @maryfanson @anoverwhelmingdin @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @axshadows @picketniffler @underneath-the-sky-again @kaysfanficcorner @noisynightmarepoetry @xmaykeca @orcasoul @sincerelywithheartt @southernbe @chaoticfestninja @telumendilsoul @hermionelove @paleidiot @lemon-world1 @diabaroxa @scarcetti @thatoneperson38747 @pascal-mynightlyobsession @sunnytuliptime @krystal---meth @nikoanna @capuccinodoll @titlee78 @goodvibesonly421 @crlsummer @chewie-bars @dean-and-baby343 @warmdragonfly @harriedandharassed @speaktothehandpeasants @pasc4lfuzz @darkheartgatita @deesparticus @beezusvreeland @sunnytuliptime @theoraekenslover @secretlettersfromyourlove @yassspose @pinkblackbra @avengersfan25 @kakiki3

#pedro pascal #harry castillo #harry castillo x f!reader #harry castillo x reader #the materialist #the materialists #a beautiful little lie series

447 notes · View notes

adragonprinceswhore · 9 months ago

Text

Romancer I Teaser

Aemond Targaryen x Wife

Summary: During King Aegon II tumultuous coronation, Aemond’s wife becomes the first casualty of the Targaryen civil war. The young prince’s grief drives him to Flea Bottom, where he meets a mysterious Qartheen necromancer, who promises to bring his love back. But as with any sorcery, there is a price to pay; with each of Aemond’s touches, she slowly rots away.

Warnings: 18+, she/her pronouns, death, violence, sorcery, necromancy, angst, longing, smut

A/N: A Halloween fic for all my horror lovers! 🖤

He holds her until the heat of her body leaves her. Until she’s cold as ice in his grip. Stiff and strange.

Only once does he glance down at her, and to his horror, she’s changed. It’s not her anymore.

The soft cheeks he used to trace his fingers down are now hollow. Her skin is discoloured, and her eyes lifeless. Almost white, like the soul has left them and in its wake, a mist settles over the grave that once was a loving gaze.

Prince Aemond sits like that, with her lifeless, rigid body in his arms, for too long.

He cannot tell how many hours have passed, but he knows that he has lost a day when the sun appears, and disappears. It feels like an eternity trapped in the blink of an eye.

No one dares approach him. They know that the fiery prince will show no mercy to whoever chooses to disturb his mourning.

So he’s left alone in his devastation, until he cannot bear it any longer.

His fingers are blue from the cold air enveloping him in an embrace so chilling, it rattles his bones.

His love has also turned impossibly cold in his hold. Colder than the freezing, blue burn of a dragon’s flame.

When he can no longer withstand the chill, he finally stands. His legs almost give in and every inch of his body hurts. Still, he persists, never letting his love fall to the ground as he keeps a secure hold around her.

She is heavier than anything he’s ever carried before. He knows her, and this is not her. How many times had he not lifted her onto their bed? Pulled her in his lap? This sack of flesh weighs far more than she ever did, and yet he cannot let go. So he persits, and carries her to their chambers, sacrificing his own aching limbs in the process.

When he thinks he might pass out from the effort, he reaches their marital bed, and lays her on top of it.

Tenderly, he places her arms on her stomach, brushes her hair from her face, and closes her eyes.

She’s merely sleeping, nothing more. Nothing permanent, nothing everlasting.

Soon, she’ll open her eyes, look up at him, and give him a smile that melts his heart. Until then, he carefully places a quilt over her, and lies down next to her to find sleep, as husband and wife, just like so many nights before.

Full fic coming October 31st!

Edit: Find the full fic here

#my fics #Romancer #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x you #aemond x reader

462 notes · View notes

dark-moonlust · 1 year ago

Text

Caught Between the Fae

This is a Patreon commission I finished yesterday. The commissioner chose to remain anonymous. I hope you enjoy this small story! It was so enjoyable to write and it's super steamy, too! I love every part of it 🖤

Pairing: 2 fae males (Nestor, Quin) x f!human (Layla)

Summary: Layla is a photographer in her mid-30s. During her exhibition event, two fae males, Nestor and Quinn, are drawn to one of her paintings and her beauty. They recognize her as their mate and quarrel over who will get Layla and her artwork. Finally, they decide to share her as she belongs to them both. They claim her as their mate and go into a mating rage, driving deep inside her and marking her with their cum.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, fingering, oral(female+male receiving), kinky talk, a little bondage, big 🍆, fae magic to fit, p in v sex, anal, double penetratiοn, lots of 💦.

Tonight was her big night.

Layla took yet another deep breath and strolled through the art gallery. Her heart thundered with excitement and a little fear. That night, her photography was the star of the show. All her pieces were there for all to see and judge. She truly hoped the people would admire and grasp the feelings and meanings behind each photo. Her work was her pride and joy.

As she walked the sleek gallery, the room was a whirl of positive reviews and the clinking of champagne glasses. The people liked her work! Feeling her anxiety lessen, she smiled, soaking in the energy as she mingled with the guests. She let herself enjoy the vibes, her soft curvy frame moving gracefully through the crowd, her fiery red hair catching the light, making her green eyes gleam with pride.

Taking a short break, she stood near the center of the room and tried to calm her raging heart. The gallery was a big hit and a dream come true! She still couldn’t believe it. She wanted to jump and laugh out of joy. As she scanned the faces of the audience, her gaze stopped on two striking men in front of her favorite piece: a photo of a moonlit beach at night. They were boldly gazing at her piece and then her way.

A jolt traveled through her. Their gazes practically saw through her.

Tall and towering, they were both, with pointy ears and supernatural auras exuding such intense power that caused her whole body to come alive and warm up as if licked by fire.

They were fae... what otherwordly beauty.

The one on the left had close-cropped blonde hair, deep purple eyes, and although he wore a sleek black suit, she could see his neck and hands, which were filled with tattoos that surely filled the rest of his body. The other male beside him was all dark and sensual mischief. He had long, curly, dark hair and ice-blue eyes that sparkled with a devil-may-care attitude.

They were attracting the eyes of everyone in the room; their presence electrifying.

From across the room, Nestor, the King of the Court of Nightmares, stood in front of Layla’s photo, his deep purple eyes drawn to every detail of the mounted piece. The gallery lights cast the perfect light, illuminating the moonlight beach. His fingers tightened around his glass as he swirled the dark liquid inside. Beside him, Quinn admired the same photo, his ice-blue eyes attracted to the art and the artist herself. He was the Emperor of the Court of Chaos.

“Stunning,” Nestor murmured in a low mumble, scanning the room, his gaze finding Layla and staying on her. “They shall be mine. Both the piece and the artist.”

Quinn chuckled, his eyes equally intent on the female. “You wish. You don’t have what it takes to appreciate them both.”

“And you do?” Nestor’s voice was higher than usual, turning heads. “Thinking too high of yourself, aren’t you?”

“This art piece belongs in my court, and little fireheart in my bed.”

“Fireheart…” Nestor whispered, his eyes tracing the fire-colored hair of his mate, the soft and curvy frame he hungered to have exposed beneath him. “I’ll never let you have them. She’s my fated one and the Queen of the Court of Nightmares.”

Quinn’s laugh was light and mocking. “I’ll bid whatever the hell you want. She’s my mate, the Empress of Chaos Court. She will be mine.”

“You? I don’t think so. I want her and that piece, and I’ll have them,” Nestor stated, his voice hard with authority. “You’d better wet your dick elsewhere.”

Quinn’s lips curled at his words. “I’ll wet my dick inside her, in every warm little place inside her.” The Emperor of Chaos stared at his mate, their gazes meeting and holding. She was gorgeous. In every way. Her red hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, and her green eyes sparkled with passion. He wanted her. He’d never back down.

“She is mine.” Nestor’s eyes flicked to the other fae. “The moment I saw her, I knew she was my fated one.”

“And you think I didn’t feel the same?” Quinn spat back, with a hint of annoyance. Long moments passed before he added, “Perhaps there’s a reason we both recognize her so strongly.”

Nestor narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you implying?”

“Fate doesn’t make mistakes,” Quinn answered. “She belongs to both of us.”

“This makes sense…” Nestor trailed off, clearly considering the proposal.

Quinn chuckled warmly. “Finally, we agree on something. So, what do we do about it?”

“We claim her. Every part of her.”

It was that moment when Layla decided to approach them. She closed in on them, and they immediately framed her luscious body with their possessive, towering bodies on both sides. Layla felt hot all over, her frame shivering from the intensity of their aura and their mere height. The dynamic between the two fae made her belly clench with arousal and for a few seconds she felt such an intense magnetic pull towards them that she could barely contain it.

“Gentlemen… I am Layla, the artist behind these photographs. I’m honored by your interest, and I couldn’t help but notice your tension… is there a problem?”

“Good evening, Layla,” Nestor greeted with a sultry drawl. “I am Nestor, King of the Court of Nightmares. Your work is extraordinary, I must have it.”

Quinn grinned and stepped closer to her, his ice-blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “I am Quinn, Emperor of the Court of Chaos. Our problem is that we both desire this piece of art, though not as much as we desire you.”

Nestor shifted closer to her right side, his scent enveloping her. “You should visit my court, Layla, and be the crown jewel of my kingdom. Choose me, fireheart.”

“Fireheart?” Layla muttered, a little taken by the nickname and the intensity in his eyes.

Quinn hummed and let his towering form nearly envelop her left side. “We feel a connection to you, little one. A bond that cannot be ignored.”

Layla didn’t know whether to laugh or blush at their bold statements. The gallery suddenly buzzed with whispers and speculations as all eyes turned toward the three of them. Both fae males had surrounded her, and her cheeks felt hot, as did the rest of her body. Her pussy was also wet, aching with a need she couldn’t barely ignore. They weren’t just interested in her art—they wanted her.

She took a deep breath, her heart pounding.

How could she refuse the King of Nightmares and Emperor of Chos without offending them?

“Gentlemen,” she finally said, her voice wavering, “I’m afraid the artist—meaning myself—is not available for such… arrangement. However, the art piece is. I am sure we can find a way to resolve this without—”

“Without what?” Nestor’s eyes darkened. “Without accepting the connection you are feeling?"

Layla opened her mouth to reply, but Quinn cut her off. “Don’t deny it, fireheart. You feel it too. The mating bond, the desire.”

Layla bit her lip and unconsciously rubbed her thighs together. Liquid warmth pooled in her core. “I… I don’t think this is appropriate.”

“Yet your pussy is wet and aching for us,” Quinn whispered against her ear, his breath warm. “And it’s not going away unless we take care of you.”

“Accept us, little mate,” Nestor said, sending shivers down her spine. “We can feel your need. You want us. Both.“

“I—I…” Layla stuttered wordlessly, her eyes flicking between the two fae. She felt such longing and undeniable attraction for them. But how could she just give in?

“You are ours, fireheart. Ours to claim in ways neither of us could do alone,” Quinn nodded, his ice-blue eyes intense.

“B-b-both of you…” Layla muttered, her body tightening pleasurably at the mere thought of those two fae belonging to her.

“Hmm,” both men growled, their eyes caressing her face and red hair.

Layla nodded slowly, listening to her heart which was screaming for them. Immediately, Fae magic surrounded her, stealing her breath away. The gallery blurred and melted away, replaced by a lavish bedroom filled with rich fabrics and flickering candles. Nestor and Quinn embraced her from both sides, their hands exploring her heated body.

Nestor scented her neck, his fingers tangling in her loose hair as if he couldn’t have enough of her. Quinn kissed her shoulders over the straps of her dress, each lingering touch leaving trails of delightful warmth and heat. When their gazes locked on hers, she felt hypnotized by the mating bond between them. It was real; they belonged to her, and she ached with need, desperate to be touched by them.

“Yes, fireheart,” Quinn rasped, sliding down the straps of her dress. “You are our mate, and you will be filled by us both.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nestor said, unzipping the back of her dress, his fingers warm against her skin. “Do you agree, sweetheart? Do you want this?”

“Hmmm… I want you,” Layla breathed, adrenaline pumping in her heart.

Quinn’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lower lip. “Good girl,” he murmured, his icy eyes bearing into her emerald ones. They were enchanting, hypnotizing. “Now, let us show you what it means to be ours.”

Layla didn’t realize how quickly they scooped her up and propped her on the plush bed. They divested her of her clothing skillfully. Quinn peeled away her dress while Nestor unclasped her bra, moaning low as her breasts spilled free. He cupped them in his big palms and pushed them up to his hot mouth, suckling each pouting nipple. Quinn knelt at her half-closed thighs and gently removed her panties and shoes. Seeing how she hesitated once she was fully exposed to them, Quinn’s long fingers trailed down her belly, then lower, teasing the sensitive skin between her thighs.

“Open for us, little one,” Quinn said, his voice a seductive promise. “We’re going to fuck you deep, make you feel so good.”

Layla shyly opened her legs and suddenly both men were between them, each one securing a leg over their muscular thighs, their hands making sure she was fully open to their eyes. Using their magic, they removed their clothes, leaving her to gape at the two fae males, so big and powerful—in every way.

Nestor had a sculpted body covered in tattoos. His eyes were warm and inviting, his stomach taut, his thighs firm and in between... his cock stood proud, looking utterly inhumane. It was thick and very long, pulsing, its length surrounded by protruding veins. Quinn was no less captivating. He was just as tall, his stance emphasizing the force of his thighs and the raw power of his well-muscled body. His eyes swirled with blue ice as he pumped his rigid cock. It was deliciously curved and textured with ridges, a little thicker than Nestor’s but not as long.

Having both of them… Layla felt the dark desire, the intensity overflowing. The need. The craving. She wanted them. Wanted them more than anything in her life.

“Fuuuuck, our mate’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” Nestor growled. She looked so pretty and tiny in contrast to their raging bodies. Flushed face, nipples out, pussy exposed. He wanted to debauch her.

“Show us your pretty cunt, fireheart,” Quinn demanded softly. “Open those pretty lips nicely for your mates.”

Dazed by desire, Layla reached down and did as told. She opened her outer folds with two fingers, showing off her slit and the bud of her clit. Both men growled ferociously and stared for a few seconds.

“That’s it,” Nestor growled, bending to lick a thick stripe up her pussy. “So wet already for your mates.”

Layla gasped, all sane thoughts fleeing.

Quinn also leaned down to taste her pussy, kissing her throbbing clit. She saw stars.

“She is ready for her mates,” Quinn said with a smirk. “You’re going to take every inch of us, aren’t you, fireheart?”

Layla whimpered, her voice and body trembling. “Yes… Please…”

The two males smiled.

Nestor toyed with her pussy lips and Quinn rubbed her needy clit. Layla whimpered and struggled to arch off the bed. She squirmed restlessly, but their hold on her thighs was too secure, allowing no movement as their fingers probed and rubbed her pussy to their liking. She melted under their touch, her heart pulsing with the intensity of their bond.

“Such a sweet wet cunt," Quinn marveled, gathering her slick and rolling it between two fingers.

“Love your nipples, sweetheart,” Nestor drawled, moving to suckle one tit then the other, his tongue swirling around the hardened buds.

“Pl… ease,” she sighed, her body feverish with need. “Need you. Need you so much it hurts!”

"Hurts?“ Quinn said in a mischievous tone as he rubbed her clit round and round while thrusting a thick finger inside her. Layla cried out and Nestor claimed her lips, swallowing her moans.

“Hurts so good, hm, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled as their lips brushed, their tongues mating.

“Yesss, please, more please… hmnnn...”

No sooner had she said that than Quinn was tasting her mouth, kissing her possessively and deeply. His tongue licked into her mouth then his tongue danced with hers.

“What do you need, fireheart?”

Oh, how she adored the way they called her nicknames. She wanted to be theirs forever and get lost in their warmth and affection.

“Want you so much. I’m so empty…”

“Our mate needs to be filled,” Nestor said to the other fae. “But first she will cum for us.”

Quinn agreed in a low chuckle and finger-fucked her while Nestor pressed his thumb against her clit, rubbing over and over. Driving her higher and higher until she exploded, bliss and pleasure overtaking her until she couldn’t think or talk. Layla quivered and while she rode her orgasm, Nestor suckled her lower lip. Quinn moved to her breasts, his mouth nursing her aching nipples. Captive in their hold, she arched into their touch, drawn-out moans escaping her.

She was still dizzy from her orgasm when they shifted. Nestor sneaked between her thighs, slapping his heavy cock against her glistening pussy. The sound was wet and squelching, her pussy fluttering with the need to be filled. Quinn kneeled next to her head, his cock pulsing in the air, the tip leaking precum. Layla licked her lips, hungry to taste him.

“Open,” Quinn commanded softly, “wet my dick, mate.”

Layla obeyed, her lips parting to take him in. Smiling mischievously, Quinn thrust his hips gently, his leaking cock stretching her mouth wide and filling it up. At the same time, Nestor entered her pussy, his girth spreading her cunt and filling her up inch by delectable inch.

“Mhppphhh!” Layla gasped and gurgled around the cock in her mouth, her pussy filled to the limit by Nestor. Quinn gripped her fiery hair, guiding her head to keep sucking him. She was so full… Quinn’s shaft kissed her throat while Nestor’s cock kissed her cervix.

“That’s it… fuck, you’re perfect,” Nestor groaned, watching her pussy suck him in.

“Is it good, fireheart? Being fucked from both ends?” Quinn pulled his cock out of her mouth with a wet pop, his cock coated in her saliva.

“Hmnn! Want more!”

With a proud moan, Quinn shoved his cock back into her hot mouth, going deeper and fucking down her throat. Nestor watched the lewd sight with pride. Their pretty mate struggled a little, but she took Quinn’s cock like the queen she was, hollowing her cheeks and clenching her pretty throat. She stroked his balls, cradling them in her small hands, her eyes rolling back with each thrust from both of them.

Groaning, Nestor pounded deep into her cunt, making her pretty tits bounce with each sharp thrust. He kneaded her mounds, his thumbs pinching her nipples, causing her to gag and whimper around a mouthful of cock, her breathing heavy. Gods, she was so pretty like this, trapped between them, their cocks spearing her back and forth.

A few calculated thrusts, and she came explosively, her body shuddering. Once she rode the waves of pleasure, the fae changed positions again, with Nestor fucking her mouth and Quinn taking her pussy. The dual sensations were overwhelming, liquid pleasure coursing through her veins as they filled her relentlessly. The room echoed with the rhythmic slaps of skin against skin and her muffled moans as she took fae cock.

“Such a good mate for us,” Quinn said with pride. Her lips were swollen, her pussy drenched with her release. “Now it’s time to take our seed, hm?”

“Hmp, yes… want your cum,” Layla said in a seductive purr.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Nestor drawled. “Ready to take us both in your soaked cunt and tight little ass?“

“Hmm, gonna take you both,” Layla nodded, seeing the pride and desire on their handsome faces. “Need to feel you inside me.”

In a flurry of motion, they repositioned themselves so that Layla was straddling Nestor, her raw breasts rubbing against his muscled chest. Quinn kneeled behind her, his strong hands spreading her asscheeks, his thumbs teasing around the tight, puckered hole. Such a cute little hole. Layla whimpered when Nestor gripped her hips and guided her down onto his throbbing dick while Quinn thrust a magically lubed finger into her ass.

Layla groaned, desperation and desire in her green eyes.

Quinn kissed her spine. “Relax your pretty asshole and take my fingers, fireheart.”

Layla clutched Nestor’s shoulders and tried to relax while Quinn squeezed a second oiled finger into her ass, the thick intrusions making her gasp and shut her eyes tightly. The combination of Nestor filling her pussy and Quinn’s fingers in her ass was strange. She felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly at their mercy.

“So damn tight," Nestor muttered against her moaning lips, his shaft buried in the heat of her cunt.

Quinn added a third finger in her ass, pumped, and curled them inside her before replacing them with the head of his cock. The broad head spread her tight hole, forcing its way inside. Layla trembled at the dual invasion— they were so deep, stretching her wide around their inhuman girths. She glanced down at where they were joined, and with shock, she realized just how much more they had to go. Only a third of their shafts were inside her, and that both thrilled and scared her.

Nestor’s voice broke through her haze. “You can do this, sweetheart.”

“You’re so big…” Layla whined. She was human, could she really take them both?

“Deep breaths, mate,” Quinn advised gently. “Take a little more of us, hmm?”

“Feels strange…” Layla looked at them for guidance, her cheeks flushed, her eyes worried. She could feel their dicks rubbing inside her, and she took deep breaths that were mixed with cries of pain and pleasure.

“Let’s stroke your little clit,” Nestor murmured, his thumb stroking her bud, sending pulses of warmth all over her body. “Yesss, that feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm! Moree!”

“Such a good little mate,” Nestor cooed and proved his point by pulling out of her wet cunt then slamming more inches inside.

“Our mate needed a cock up her cunt and ass so badly,” Quinn growled as he worked deeper into her ass.

“You will take us, mate. Again and again until you reek of our cum. Our magic protects you. Relax your holes,” Quinn ordered in her ear.

Blindsided by the fullness of their penetration, Layla said yes in a series of raspy moans. Their fae magic infused her fully, empowering her and building her arousal. Before long, she’d taken the full lengths of their cocks. The fullness, the heat, the stretch— she was overwhelmed but in no pain. She curled between their powerful bodies, and when they started fucking her in earnest, she cried out, her nails digging into their flesh.

“Look at you,” Nestor growled, his purple eyes dark with lust. “So beautiful riding our dicks.”

“You’re perfect like this, fireheart,” Quinn whispered, his hands fondling her asscheeks. “So tight, so hot.”

Hands grabbed and fondled her as they pounded her, their cocks owning her depths. When Nestor’s cock left her pussy, Quinn plunged into her ass. Layla tried to get more friction only to have their strong hands restrain her. Nestor grasped her tits while Quinn secured her wrists with magical silken ropes, carefully tying her arms behind her back. The silk felt like a caress, soft and slightly loose.

She didn’t complain; she only trembled between them, her watery eyes begging them to claim her.

“If this is too much for you, fireheart, say “red” and we will stop. I promise you. Understood?”

“Yesss,” Layla nodded fervently. “Now… just fuck me.”

“Easy, sweetheart,” Nestor said, his hands gripping her thighs. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Layla was too far gone to think straight. “C-can’t! Want more!”

“It’s the mating bond. She is human, and it’s affecting her. Our magic is also making everything stronger,” Nestor explained to the other fae.

“Such a needy little mate,” Quinn rasped and pressed a harsh kiss to her mouth. “Bound and begging for us.”

Nestor grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You think you can handle us, huh? Think you can keep up with us?”

“Hmn… I can handle it,” Layla panted as they impaled her on their stiff cocks.

Nestor chuckled from under her, his fingers pinching her nipples. “Is that so? Well, let’s see how long you can keep that attitude.”

The two males exchanged glances before they resumed pounding into her. Nestor lifted her a few inches, then lowered her back down onto his cock. Quinn thrust his hips, fucking her ass in full thrusts that reached deep into her guts. They were both too thick, too hard, and too long, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

It went on and on; their stamina seemed endless, their cocks so impossibly hard and swollen with the need to cum. The scent of desire hung heavily in the air and she came again with uncontrollable, shuddering contractions, her holes clenching hard around their massive girths. The males followed right after her, their muscled bodies shuddering, roars ringing out as she felt something burst inside her. Massive wings sprouted from their backs as their seed filled her up, loads and loads of it, forcing little aftershocks of ecstasy.

But they were far from done.

They switched places, Nestor claiming her now stretched asshole while Quinn filled up her pussy. Their wings curled around her as they slammed inside her, and Layla lost herself in the mating bond, quaking between them, her arms securely bound, her holes fluttering around their shafts. She could only whimper and utter their names, begging them to stop, then begging them to never stop and make her cum.

“Remember your safe word, mate,” Quinn reminded her roughly. “If it’s too much say "red" and we will stop.”

“Would you like us to stop fucking your naughty holes?” Nestor’s fingers curled around her nape, his hips snapping repeatedly into hers.

“Nnn—nooo!” Layla whined, her body tense as she balanced on the edge of pleasure.

Quinn growled his approval. “That’s good, fireheart, because we’re not going to.”

The bed creaked, obscene moans echoing with every move they made. Her fae mates fucked her powerfully, thrusting to the hilt again and again, deep and tirelessly. Quinn devoured her lips with his kisses, his hands cupping her tits and pinching her sore nipples. Nestor growled from behind her, his broad chest pressing against her back as he claimed her ass and flicked her clit with his thumb.

They were primal and fully affected by the need to claim her, and she loved it—she loved them and how they fucked her, it was unlike anything she had imagined.

Layla’s moans rang out when she came again, sobs of pleasure escaping her kiss-swollen mouth. She trembled as a pleasure bomb went off in her center. It was too much, but it was divine, every nerve was alight. They joined her soon after, pulsing up inside her and releasing spurt after spurt of their cum. She was already filled with them, but the second load overflowed from her, dribbling down her thighs.

Layla didn’t know for how long it went on.

They untied the silk ropes and took her again and again, lifting her off the bed, sandwiching her between their aroused bodies and feeding her their cocks in every position imaginable. Their wings flapped powerfully, and when Layla touched them, her mates went into a mating rage, driving deep inside her, claiming her, owning her.

As the sun began to rise, their frenzied mating finally came to an end.

They collapsed on the bed, the covers tattered and smeared with signs of their primitive coupling. Layla’s mates enveloped her, spooning her from front to back, their bodies entwined with hers, their cocks still hard inside her due to the suction of her cunt and ass. She was sated and exhausted, feeling a sense of belonging she had never known before.

They took turns kissing her, softly, lovingly, whispering sweet nothings while gazing at her with an impossibly soft, oh-so-soft expression on their faces. Their seed had marked her as theirs; the mate of the Nightmare and Chaos Courts.

“Who do you belong to, little mate?” Nestor asked, kissing the side of her neck.

“You,” Layla breathed. “Both of you.”

Nestor growled and gazed at her possessively. She belonged wholly to them. And they to her. She was filled to the brim with their seed, her holes stretched taut around their shafts. It was the ultimate claiming. "So beautiful. You did so well, fireheart.”

“Stunning.” Quinn brushed a few sweaty hair strands from her face and kissed her fluttering eyelashes. “You were so good for us, mate. Our beautiful Queen and Empress.”

“Yes,” Nestor agreed proudly. “We shall unite our courts and give our mate everything.”

“Hmmm,” Quinn hummed against her chest, his voice a sultry whisper against her lips. “Do you like being filled by your King and Emperor, fireheart?”

“Yes,” Layla answered, her heart brimming with affection for them. “I love it. I love you both.”

Nestor hummed from behind her, kissing her softly. “We love you more. You’re ours, sweetheart. Forever.”

That night, they’d claimed more than a masterpiece.

They’d claimed their soulmate.

#fae x reader #fae x human #fae x oc #comission #monster writer #monster writing #fae smut #fae fucker #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster x human #monster fudger #monster fucker #monster x you #monster smut #monster x female reader #monster romance

522 notes · View notes

lalaluna20 · 2 months ago

Text

Supposed to go

Azzi x reader warnings: heaveyyy angst, 2024 final four 😬, heavy use of italics (sorry), uh yea…

this wasn't how it was supposed to go

At least not for azzi

For the first time, you were finally able to go to one of azzi’s games in her collegian career.

but

she didn't want it this way, this was never how it was supposed to go.

because now, she's sitting on the bench, unable to play on her biggest stage for the second time. feeling disappointment as heavy as the world, she looks over at you desperately seeking for your comfort.

but

this wasn't how it was supposed to go. because now you're sitting in the other section, covered in black and gold. sitting with her family.

you were supposed to be here for azzi, not for her.

azzi couldn't help but to get lost in thought. all the possibilities, all the things she could've done, should've done, all the regrets.

she regrets it all.

when you told her you were going to iowa for their creative writing program.

when she contacted her friend caitlin clark. they grew rather close while on fiba's U16 usa team. their friendship only grew while on U19. so azzi reached out to her, asking her to help you around and just be a familiar face. azzi knew you would be in good hands. caitlin's kind, funny, charming, she would bring you in with nothing but welcoming arms.

god she regrets it.

when you moved down to iowa city, you and azzi kept your routine. call once in the morning, text during lunch breaks, and call once after all your classes. but as time went on calls changed to once a day, to no texting over lunch breaks, to calls once a week.

until around a two weeks before her first season; azzi texted you out of no where.

hey, im sorry i haven't been able to talk much lately. things are just getting really busy with basketball. i dont think i'll be able to talk much until the season is over.

but of course you had to be a sweetheart. you always were.

it's okay az i understand just call/text me whenever you're free i miss you :( love you <3

if she could take it all back she would. but she can't.

she snaps out of her thoughts, feeling a tear filling her waterline. she forgets how much her heartbreaks thinking about how things went down.

she remembers how caitlin would post photos of the two of you, hanging out, getting coffee, books, you name it. but azzi never thought anything of it. she was too focused on her career.

but when she tore her acl it all changed. for the first time you were no longer there to comfort her. and although she had paige and her teammates, they never compared to you. not even close. but you’re 1046 miles away from her a 17 hour drive (not including traffic) now you were way too far and busy to even come back and comfort her. that didn’t mean you didn’t try, of course you did. you guys started calling twice a day again, started texting during lunch breaks again. it all helped the aching hole in azzi’s heart.

that was until she was scrolling through insta. watching insta stories while waiting for her physical therapy session. that’s when caitlin’s story pops up. it was a photo of you acrossed the table. the biggest, brightest smile on your face. one she hasn’t seen since you guys were kids. it made her heart ache, wishing she was the source of your happiness. but the nail on the coffin? was the caption. “one year with my beautiful girl 🖤 forever grateful to call her mine.”

for the first time the world stopped azzi felt a pain she has never felt before. far more painful than any acl tear.

all azzi could do was ask why? why didn’t you tell her? why did you start dating caitlin? why not her?

once again, snapping her out of her thoughts. Ice taps her on the shoulder. “azzi? you doing okay?”

god she needs to turn her mind off. “yea im fine ice.” she states far to quick to be considered normal. but ice doesn’t push it. especially not with how close the game is going.

that’s when gasps fill the stadium. yours sticking out the most to azzi. watching you stand in horror as you watch kate go down. kate martin being one of your first friends at iowa, after caitlin introduced the two of you. azzi would hear all about the adventures you and kate would go on over the late summer early fall months. whether that would be going to the farmers market in downtown, the apple orchard in the outskirts of iowa city, or the author visits the two of you would go to at this local bookstore. she watched as anne held you in her arms, telling you kate was going to be okay. she watched as you lit up seeing kate return to the floor, sighing a breath of relief.

but just as quickly, that breath was sucked back in. “THE OFFENSIVE FOUL ON EDWARDS” the commotion in the in the stadium louder than ever. the Iowa pep band rubbing salt into an already painful wound. the mix of defeat and frustration geno held making an uncomfortable huddle. emtions are high as caitlin heads to the line, shooting for two.

but azzi could care less, her eyes lock on you. watching your hands clasp together, your lips reading “we need this baby, just two more, please”. watching you practically shake with anticipation.

she watches as you cheer. 1.1 left on the shot clock as sydney takes the ball. you look exactly like you did when you got all A’s on your final report card back in high school. azzi felt her heart swell, but just as fast as she feels the warmth.

“clark bounces it off of bueckers out of bounds. with just one tenth of a second remaining.”

azzi feels her heart drop yet again. the guilt of being unable to support her team swallowing her whole. as they reset the time to 0.8. she watches her team. seeing the pain in their eyes, seeing the frustration and defeat in her coaches. she can’t bare to see it. she look at you, seeing the shaky hope in your eyes. knowing your little saying “you haven’t won till the buzzer hits zero” you’d say as you guys cuddle up on the couch watching wnba games.

god everything hurts.

the buzzer goes off. the rigging bringing you joy, but brings pain to azzi’s ears. she watches as you jump in the arms of caitlin’s family overcome by joy.

“AND THAT WILL DO IT!!”

“IOWA SURVIVES CONNECTICUT!!”

as they high five, azzi tries to hide her pain. giving a weak smile to her team usa friend.

this was never how it was supposed to go

as azzi waits in the locker room, waiting for her teammates to get done with interviews, waiting for the locker room discussion. she watched the livestream taking place. watching as caitlin goes to look for you. watching as she hugs her father, mother, brothers. then she watches as caitlin picks you up, twirling you around and kissing you on the lips. “baby we did it.” caitlin says with the biggest grin. “i’m so proud of you” you state before kissing her again, cheers erupting from her teammates, coaches and supporters.

azzi shuts her phone off, feeling sick to her stomach. it shouldve been her. you should be in her arms, she shouldve been playing, she should be the one going to the championship. but it’s not, and all she could do now was wish it was her. she tries to hold back her tears, but before she even knows it, they’re flooding out like an uncontrollable river.

this was never how it was supposed to go.

after a month i finally wrote it T~T thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed! taglist: @ashortyluvsports, @itsssports, @salemsuccss, @d1paigebueckersglazer, @laurenmcucm, @sweetbcgs, @bueckersverse, @mariahthealchemist, @pbno5

#luna’s stories 💜#luna’s blog <3 #azzi x reader #azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #caitlin clark x reader #iowa wbb #wnba

123 notes · View notes

saskem · 5 months ago

Text

FOREVER? YOU PROMISE?

ʚїɞ SUMMARY: A regular day in the life of Kakashi and reader. Perhaps this time, everything will be more certain and official?

ʚїɞ CHARACTER: Kakashi Hatake x AFAB!Reader. Roughly 4k words.

ʚїɞ CW: 18+ (Minors get out) Oral (male receiving and female receiving), switch!reader if you squint, teasing and playful reader, orgasm, protected/unprotected sex. Both Kakashi and reader are head over heels for each other.

ʚїɞ NOTES: English is not my first nor is it my second language! (I have to proofread this again). If you're here from my TikTok, no you're not lmaoo. Love you guys. (I've never done the devil's tango before so some things might not be accurate.) Valentine's Day gift for you guys. Now it's time for me to disappear for another 3 months🖤.

The hot springs nestled deep within the heart of the leaf village, hidden behind curtains of leafless trees covered in faint snow and glowing lanterns that casted a golden hue over the steaming water. The air was thick yet relaxing with a slight scent of earth and the faint sound of trickling water that soothed the quietness of the night.

Tonight, however, the ease between you felt strange—one which you deliberately established between yourselves. You sat on the other side, arms crossed, the warmth of the water doing little to soothe your irritation. Kakashi casually lounged on the other side of the hot springs, his silver hair damped and sticking on his forehead. His mask was uncharacteristically absent, revealing the sharpness of his jaw and the slight curve of his lips.

“Come closer.” He said, his voice cut through the soothing silence like a blade. It wasn’t a demand but a simple request, one that made your heart skip a beat despite how much you wanted to stay mad at him.

You glanced at him, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the lanterns. His expression was calm with a flicker of slight amusement and guilt in his eyes. You shook your head, turning away from him.

“No, I’m still mad at you.”

His chuckle was faint, almost lost within the steam that arose between the two of you. “When are you not mad at me?”

“When you do what I say,” you shoot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

He lets out a tired sigh, leaning against the edge of the spring. “You shouldn’t be eating ice cream in the winter, you’ll catch a cold.”

“Precisely why I’m mad at you,” you muttered, refusing to look at him.

For a moment, there was only the sound of the water rippling against the rocks as he approached you instead. You stiffened but didn’t pull away as he stopped in front of you. His face was inches from you, his breath warm against your skin. Your gaze shifted to the black mole on his chin—your favorite feature on him—it dared you to lean in and kiss, like you always did.

“When we get home, I’ll get you ice cream,” he offered, his voice softer.

You shook your head as you avoided his gaze. “I wanted ice cream an hour ago, I no longer want it.”

He lets out a quiet huff, and before you could react, his arms were around your waist; pulling you against him. His hands moved in slow and soothing circles on your waist. It was gentle enough to waver your attitude toward him.

“I can make it up to you.” He murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. He pulled you closer, leaving no space between you two as your bare chests pressed against each other.

“Pervert” you teased. “ It’s all the books you’ve been reading.”

He smirked, his eyes lit up with mischief. “And you don’t read those same books?”

You rolled your eyes, looking away from him, trying to suppress the light smile tugging at the corner of your lips. The tension between you melted away as it was replaced with nothing but the familiar comfort of his presence. You both stayed at the hot springs for a few more minutes with his head resting on your neck as he gently sways you to the faint sounds of music from the far away crowd.

Later, you both showered and changed as you went back to his apartment. A pot of tea was left on the nightstand as he reads a chapter from the book you just bought. He had his own bookmark, a blue one while yours was pink—indicating where you stopped.

“Why do we have to let the tea sit before we drink it again?” He asked, his voice casual but decorated with that familiar teasing tone as he closed the book and set it aside on his nightstand.

You rolled your eyes. “You ask the same questions every time I make us tea. Way to make a girl feel like her lover listens to her.”

He leaned back on the headboard, his arms crossed over his chest in a mocking way. “Don’t be like that, I listen to you.”

“Sure you do,” you replied sarcastically. “And I’m gonna be Hokage.”

“You’re more than qualified.” He chuckled as his gaze softened when it captured your relaxed figure.

You walk to his side of the bed to pick up the book from the nightstand. “We let the tea sit–” You began, but before you could finish, he sat up and got a hold of you.

“Because it allows the temperature to cool down and let the flavors develop.” He said verbatim, voice low and calm.

You turned in his arms. “So you do listen.” You flicked his forehead with the book. He winced playfully, his right hand rubbing the spot as you slipped out of his grasp and walked over to the mirror. The chill of the room made you shiver slightly and you adjusted the fabric of your night robe. Kakashi really needs to fix that heating problem in his apartment.

“I think I should’ve brought a different night robe.” You whispered to yourself rather than to him. “ This one is too thin for this weather.”

“You look good in it.” His reflection appeared behind you in the mirror, his eyes tracing over you with admiration and appreciation.

You glanced at him through the mirror, your lips curving upwards. “I know but am I warm in it?”

He stepped closer, his hands resting lightly on your shoulder as he leaned down to kiss the light curve of your neck. “I can make you warm,” he whispered, his hot breath against your ear, sending chills down your spine. “Really warm.”

His lips trailed along your nape, each kiss light and deliberate. As his fingers brushed against the neckline of your robe, tugging it down just enough to expose more of your skin. His touch was controlled and calculated as he adorned your skin with gentle kisses leaving a trail of warmth.

“Strip for me. Please, I want to see you—all of you.” He uttered gently in your ears while his eyes remained fixated on the mirror reflecting your figure. His eyes took in every curve of your body as if it was his very first time seeing you. Fascinated by the beauty who stood in front of him, he took a deep breath.

“I love you…” The three words left his lips with such ease and weight. Hints of vulnerability and admiration highlighted the silky monotone of his voice as he continued. “Allow me to love you once more, for as long as life permits me.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against his chest as his hands slid down to your waist. Pulling you closer so you can feel his hardness against your back. The thin fabric of your robe did so little to mask the heat of his body against yours. His kisses grew as inconsistent as his needs.

“Kakashi…” You whispered gently, forgetting what you were going to say as his fingertips caressed the fabric of your robe. The chill of his fingers lingered on your skin, urging you to stay conscious in the present moment. He handled you with such care and passion. He was your source of comfort. The man you plainly trusted to always guide you safely through the darkness. And for all the years you’ve been together, you’re confident that he would never hurt you.

And that’s why you’re allowing yourself to feel intimacy to its highest form. No shame, no judgement—just two souls that found solace in each other’s hearts. He was yours as much as you were his. He loved you just as much as you loved him and you wanted this as much as he did.

So you untied the silk robe and watched it slip off your shoulder to reveal your bare form. Despite the sudden rush of vulnerability, your eyes remained on his. It was risky, opening yourself to someone in such a manner. Doing so could allow them to know what makes you tick and how to hurt you. But that was also a double edged sword, where opening yourself like this would allow you to be loved to the highest degree. But for him, this was a risk you were willing to take—over and over again..

“My beautiful love.” He hummed softly as he dipped his neck further down to kiss your collarbone. “My dazzling and gentle love.”

His touch was slow and impatient as he walked to face you while your eyes remained on the mirror. You watch him kneel in front of you as his palms caress your thighs open. His eyes searched for any doubt that you may have before he kissed your heat.

“Do you want this?” His voice is calm yet serious.

“Yes” You whispered and gripped his silver locks, tight enough to pull his head back. “Take me.”

He smirked before he gently spread your folds with his fingers as his tongue lapped around your clit. So hot and steamy, he continued the strokes of his tongue until your legs weakened. Gripping his hair tighter, you arched into his tongue—the pleasure was overwhelming to stand up. So enamoured by the taste, he gently caressed your leg as he placed your left one on his shoulder. He didn’t plan on stopping, how could he when your juices spilled on his tongue like honey? So sweet and flavorful, just for him.

“Go on, watch yourself for me, yeah?”

Oh how much did he worship you and obeyed the sounds you made like a fool lured by sirens in the middle of the sea. You’re so pretty, not because you stood there bare for him to drown in your taste but because your very existence defined the word. To allow him to feel and see all of you without the filters you put on for others was an honor. An honor that he plans to harden in the vastness of forever, not now—but soon.

For now, he had to take care of his love. And rightfully so, he placed your other leg on his shoulder as he balanced you with his hands on your back and molded your ass. His tongue explored every corner of your heat, moaning as he felt your body anxiously clenching.

“Kakashi, I’m cumming.” You said breathlessly.

“Then let go for me, darling. Let me feel you come undone.” He dipped his head into your pussy again, this time he sucked and sucked while his middle finger pumped inside of you. So you did. You came hard and relaxed in its aftermath. He pulled away from your leg but only after he kissed your folds, a string of your wetness connecting with his lips. You laid in the middle of the bed staring at the man in front of you, he licked his lips in satisfaction.

“Can I…” Your eyes met his as it lowered to examine the outline of his length through his briefs.

“Tonight is all about you.” His hands reach to untie his night robe, revealing his bare form. You took it in as if it was your first time seeing him. His abs were defined and if you looked further down, his happy trail blended almost perfectly with his skin. You wanted him more than ever.

“Please, I want to—I’ll be good.” You didn’t mean for the words to come out like a plea but it did. You didn’t know what had gotten into you but beyond those four walls, there were problems and worries—factors that were forgotten within the depth of your intimacy. The only rational response would be to let go and enjoy the ecstasy of your souls connecting. Your lips opened to let out a desperate plea. “I’ll be gentle.”

With his consent, you lowered his briefs and his cock sprung out—his tip red and angry with arousal. Leaked with pre-cum, his length anxiously waited for your touch. You started slowly, with your lips wrapping around the tip of his length. His moans sparked something you didn’t know was there. Your tongue danced around his cock while your hands massaged his balls. Taking him deeper inside your mouth, he lets out a moan.

“Please…” He grunts as his hand grips your hair. “Just like that.” He whines as your tongue lapped around his length. He removed his hand from your hair so he can run smooth circles on your cheeks—feeling the outline of your hollowed cheeks taking him in. He pulled your head away so he wouldn’t finish in your mouth.

“I want to prolong this as much as possible.” He guided you up from your knees so he could place a deep kiss on your lips. His hands wrapped around your waist as he brought you closer. He cautiously lowered you on the bed and situated himself between your legs. His hands reached for the drawer as he pulled out a condom. He tore open the wrapper with his teeth and handed the latex to you. Confused, you stared at him.

“Roll it on for me.” His voice was velvet and commanding, laced with that teasing edge that made your skin warm and body filled with desire. The air was thick with something unspoken and unseen that you both could feel. He got off on this, seeing you flustered and unraveling every inch of you until all he could see was the rawest version of yourself. It didn’t stop at the hot springs when he shamelessly flirted with you or when he ordered you to watch yourself in the mirror as he buried himself between your thighs.

“Quit teasing.” You looked away, but he was faster—his fingers, calloused yet so soft, trapped your chin and forced you to meet his gaze. His hungry eyes burned into yours, drinking in every inch of you.

“I’m not teasing.” His voice was serious with a slight hint of playfulness in his tone. “Roll it on for me.”

You looked down to where his length stood hard and proud between your legs. Kakashi let out a sigh when he felt your hands wrapped around his cock and grunted at the feeling of your warm fingers rolling the latex material on him.

“We’ve been together for years, yet you’re still so shy. I’m gonna have fun with you.” He dipped his head to kiss your neck as he lined up himself in your entrance. “Relax for me, my love.” He placed gentle kisses on your skin as he lowered himself into you.

“That’s it, you can handle it.” Once he fully bottomed down, he gave you a moment to adjust to his length as he admired you—almost as if it was his first seeing you lying beneath him. So vulnerable with nothing to hide yourself in. Your body was completely bare for him, every curve and scar exposed. Despite that, he still loved you.

“Faster, please. I want you to fuck me faster.”

His thumb rubbed controlled circles on your clit, hoping to get you there—to the destination of pure bliss and relaxation. His hips continued to thrust into yours as you ground your hips to meet his, anxiously seeking that high. You felt it, that familiar sensation pulsing through your body. So you chased it as much as you could, his hot lips on your neck, tracing, and sucking kisses on your neck. Moans and kisses filled the room with loud sounds of skin against skin.

“So handsome.” You commented as you came down from the high, but you weren’t satisfied yet. You wanted more than that, more than just him taking you and making you his.

You wanted all of him.

All you wanted was to show him how much you admired and loved him. Kakashi said tonight was all about you but what if you wanted it to be about him as well? To show him how much you found solace in his presence. You gently push him to lay on the other side of the bed before you get on top of him. You captured his lips for a deep kiss.

“Take off the condom, Kakashi.” You moaned in his mouth as you deepened the kiss. He took aback and pulled away to make sure you were aware of what you asked for. Doing so would probably bring to life the product of the love you both share. Something you both never sat down and talked about.

“I really want to. But, love, we haven’t discussed—”

“Take. It. Off.” You said anxiously, a breathless sigh escaped your lips. “Please.”

And he did so in such a hurry that made you sure that he yearned for the day you’d let him do you raw without any barriers between you both. He tied a knot around the plastic before throwing it away on the bin by the door without looking. He was perfect, his skill as a ninja, and his entire existence—absolutely perfect.

“I love you.” You kissed his neck before planting a deep kiss on his lips. “I want to take care of you for however long I can. Please, let me.”

You held onto his shoulders for support as your hands reached to line his cock with your entrance. Your foreheads pressed against each other as beads of sweat threaten to run down your faces. You sink yourself down on his length as a satisfied gasp escapes your lips.

“That’s it. Yeah, just like that…” He moaned in your ears as his hips thrusted upwards. “Just like that, hmmm.” His hands comfortably sat on your hips to grind them forward on his length. He wasn’t done with you yet and you knew that. “So wet around my cock.”

Your back arched at the familiar sensation threatening your body for a release. Kakashi opened his mouth to capture your nipples in his mouth as his hands continued to move your hips. The intimacy between you two was borderline filthy yet gentle. Beneath the two of you, the sheets were moist with a mixture of sweat and heat. Yet the two of you kept going at it, taking in each other’s pleasure to reach that high that you both longed for.

“Kakashi…” Your voice so whiny and sweet broke through the sounds of moans and squeaky bed. “I’m coming.” You ride him faster, hoping to reach that blissful release again despite your weakened legs. Your walls tightened around his length to memorize the size and veins that ran along his cock.

“Look at me…” He grunts as he himself was seeking for that release soon after yours. He wanted this and he wanted you. Your glistened skin lit up by the candle drove him crazy. His eyes examined every facial expression you made as he reached deeper inside your velvet walls. You couldn’t fulfill his request. This was too intimate and too filthy to face him. No matter how many times you two had sex, never were you able to hold eye contact during moments of passion.

“Love, let me see you, baby.” He gently caressed his fingers on your cheeks and lifted your chin so your eyes could greet him. “So pretty…” His voice was so soothing and gentle, contrasting the lecherous air between you two.

“Kakashi, please.” You begged. “So good.”

“Hmm, you feel good?” He asked in a teasing manner while his eyes remained on yours. Still maneuvering your body on his dick, he lets out a laugh. “Then come for me, take what’s yours—I’m all yours.”

That was the only encouragement you needed to hear before you took it upon yourself to ride his length. The familiar knot coiling deep within you. It tightened and tightened until it finally snapped, leaving you empty with no thoughts and worries in your mind. Suddenly nothing mattered except the both of you, Kakashi came moments later, his own release emptying his mind. For once, there were no responsibilities and expectations trusted upon him. Your body collapsed on his, bodies pressed together as the sheets tangled between your legs. Chest rising and falling as you both caught your breath within each other’s warmth. Kakashi’s fingers gently ran along your spine before he pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead.

“You did so well,” his voice was tender and low. He placed another kiss on your forehead, when your gaze met his, you melted. You reached for him this time, capturing his lips in a kiss—this one was gentle, absent of desperation and hunger. It was different from the lustful and feverish kisses you shared before.

“I did?” You whispered shyly.

He hummed in response, his fingers stroking your cheek with his fingers and you sighed against his touch. Slowly, he lifted you off his length, laying you against his chest before pulling the sheets over you. Your breathing followed the same rhythm as you both felt the comfort of the silence. Your eyes traced the vastness of the white ceiling, lost in thoughts until his hand rested on your stomach—grounding himself in your warmth. You smiled, lacing your fingers with his before bringing them to your lips for a soft kiss.

“I love you.”

“Do you ever run out of ‘I love yous.’ You teased, your heartbeat slowly settling into its resting rhythm. Within the comfort of his embrace, you laid your head on his bare chest—the rhythm of his heart pumping life into your own.

“Do you?” He asked, equally teasing. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips as you drew meaningless shapes on his skin.

But why would you? No dictionary, no language in the world can describe what you felt. Love, infatuation, obsession, fondness, tenderness—none of them were rough to dissect and define the depth of it.

“No. If you love someone, you will never run out of love. The beauty of life and finding ‘the one’ is growing and adapting with them. Forget appearances—what about what’s in here?” Your voice softened as you pressed your head firmly against his chest, feeling his warmth.

“Are you calling me ugly?” He let out a breathy laugh before his tone straightened, his eyes softening. “Even if I ran out of words, I would still find a way to remind you that you’re my everything.” He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss on your forehead, soft and reverent, almost like a vow.

“Always a gentleman.” You smiled, your heart swelling with love and admiration. “I love you.” You reached to turn on the bedside lamp, but not before leaning in to return the kiss on his forehead. Behind you, the sound of shifting sheets filled the comfortable silence as Kakashi moved. Reaching into the drawer of his nightstand.

“Our tea is probably ice cold by now.” You complained playfully. “It’s your fault. If you hadn’t seduced me and just let me drink the poor tea, I wouldn’t have to throw it away—”

Your words trailed off the moment you turned to face him.

The tiny wooden box in his hands was unmistakable, you knew what that meant. His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted the lid, revealing the most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

It wasn’t just a ring.

It was a statement. A promise. A symbol of forever.

“Kakashi….” Your voice came out like a vulnerable whisper, barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would steal the moment. Words caught in your throat, tangled in the quietness of the room.

“Looks like I’m running out of words,” he said, teasing but his eyes held everything but humor. Love. Passion. Devotion. And most of all, vulnerability.

This moment would be carved into your memory for eternity. The future was uncertain, unpredictable—anything could happen. One day, you could wake up and decide to hate each other. The risk was undeniable.

But with him?

You were willing to take it.

And Kakashi—a man who had lost everyone he had ever been close to—was asking you to walk with him into forever?

How could you say no?

And even as life inevitably swept you both into its destined darkness, this moment, this promise was a vow that no matter what, you both would find each other again.

In this life. In the next. In the eternal embrace of nirvana.

#kakashi smut #kakashi fanfiction #hatake kakashi #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi hatake x reader #anime x reader #anime smut #naruto x reader #Naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfiction #x reader #x reader smut #smut #18+ mdni

158 notes · View notes

concreteangel92 · 7 months ago

Text

'Tis The Season

Noah Sebastian x female reader

18+

Warnings: bondage, shibari rope play, ice play, dom/sub relationship, praise kink, sensation play, oral (female receiving) slight edging but not much

It feels so nice to be able to get something uploaded haha I have so much of my own writing/requests to catch up on which I’m hoping to get everything finished soon! I hope you all enjoy this in the meantime 🖤

Permanent taglist: @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @fadingangelwisp @theanarchymuse95 @w0manof-flesh44 @dream-machine-love @thisbicc @amelia-acero @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @tosoundlessdarkistare @ichoosetenderomens @hurricanesfollowyou

Individual Tags: @leneisback @concretejunglefm @dsireland86

Let me know if you wish to be added to my permanent Noah taglist 🖤

MASTERLIST

Your body was laid bare across your shared bed, your skin being illuminated by the multicoloured Christmas lights wrapped shibari style around your chest and your arms were pulled and tied to the bed posts.

Noah had tied you up so well that your movements were extremely limited. Now normally of course, you both had proper bondage rope for an evening such as this, but tis the season after all.

You felt your chest rise and fall with the anticipation, your sight had been taken from you with the black silk mask over your eyes, but you could feel that his eyes were on you.

“You look absolutely breathtaking baby”

You heard him move around the bed, his presence feeling closer until you felt a dip on the mattress next to you and then you felt the feather light touch of his fingers across your cheek running gently down onto your neck in a gentle possessive grip.

“My very own little Christmas present”

You could feel your chest rising up and down faster as you waited for him to begin, his words going straight to your core.

“You ready to be my personal toy angel? I just love making you my little play thing, especially when you look so good being all tied up for me”

Your thighs clenched at his words, your own voice barely above a whisper as you responded.

“Yes”

You felt him move slightly and heard the sound of something clinking next to you on the bedside table, you wondered what he’d brought in but you soon realised when you felt an ice cube run across your lips gently making you part them in surprise and feeling the cool drips of water enter your mouth.

A gasp then fell from your lips as you felt the ice glide along your collarbone, causing a shiver to run through your body.

You felt Noah bring the ice down towards your chest, feeling a water trail being left in its wake. You moaned when he started to circle your nipples, instantly feeling a cold chill that seemed to warm your body up.

“You should see the colours reflected on your skin right now on the water baby, it’s beautiful, you’re so beautiful”

Your heart swelled within your chest, his praise was always next level compared to anyone you’d ever been with before.

You felt the cube glide down your stomach when he’d finished on your chest making your muscles contract under his touch, the sensation was like nothing you’d felt before. The cold cube was causing you to have goosebumps appear all over your skin and the heat to build between your legs.

“Noah…”

His name rolled off your tongue as you felt the cube go lower and you felt his body shifting so he could get a better angle.

He hummed in response but you didn’t say anything more, you were too lost in the feelings coursing through you.

The sensation of the ice running across your lower stomach caused your hips to twitch upwards and another cold shiver through your body. You knew where he was headed.

“You’re melting the ice baby, are you that worked up already?”

You felt him lean across and heard him pick up another cube.

Your body was hot, you felt so turned on and he’d barely done anything to you.

You then felt Noah spread your thighs apart gently, the anticipation causing you to tug on the lights, hearing them groan under the pressure.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece, my very own work of art, all laid out on display for me”

The next thing you felt was Noah lying down on the bed as he settled himself between your thighs and hooked one of his arms around your leg to hold you down.

“Let’s cool you down a bit yeah?”

A choked groan left your lips as you felt Noah run his tongue, with the cube, across your folds for the first time.

“Shit!”

The feeling of the cold on your hot core was beautifully contradicting. It was almost a painful feeling to have such a cold sensation down there.

Noah then placed the cube in between his fingers and was running it around your inner thighs and outer lips, his mouth ghosting feather kisses on your lower abdomen, never going exactly where you craved him the most.

“Noah please…”

He continued slowly running the cube around you, leaving water marks behind and he lifted his head up.

“Yes angel?”

You could hear the smug smirk on his face, if there was one thing he loved, it was teasing and edging you.

You gripped onto the lights around your wrists, desperately wishing you could grip onto his hair instead.

“Please….don’t tease me”

He chuckled.

“Feeling a bit desperate are we baby?”

You went to respond but the feeling of his fingers suddenly spreading your lips apart and his cold tongue entering you and drawing out your arousal slick and wet from between your folds made your head fall back against the pillows with a loud, choked out moan.

“Oh my go…”

Your words were caught in your throat as Noah was then like a starved man. He continued to eat you out mercilessly, the ice had long since melted under the warmth of his tongue and your own heat. His tongue went up to your clit and you felt his inked fingers slip inside to stroke your walls in a come hither motion, his tongue flat while he shook his head vigorously, your thighs shaking uncontrollably around him as his arms wrapped and pinned you down.

The sound of your own wetness hit your ears as his rhythm never let up, you felt your body tense beautifully before you felt yourself snap and cry out as your orgasm hit you hard, you back arching off the bed and the lights stretched from the bed posts as you pulled down on them.

As you felt your body go limp on the mattress and you tried to catch your breath, you felt Noah’s fingers slip the blindfold off your head, his cocky smile being the first thing you saw, his chin glistening sinfully under the lights.

“You still with me angel?”

You smiled.

“Just…..fancy taking these off me yet?”

You pulled on the wires gently to gesture to what you meant and you watched as Noah ran a finger across his chin, gathering your arousal before sucking it into his mouth.

“And why would I want to do that?”

You looked down at your body and admired the multicoloured glow across your skin before you looked back up at Noah.

“Time to see if you’ve been naughty or nice this year baby”

#noah sebastian #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #noah sebastian davis #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah bad omens #noah sebastian imagine #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian drabble #noah sebastian fic #concreteangel92

221 notes · View notes

thepinkpanther83 · 3 days ago

Note

Imagine,

BFF!Reader puts viagra in Eddie's drink, and Eddie struggles to hide his boner then asks Reader for help, not knowing she was the one that put him in his predicament.

Please and thank you.

❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤❤️🖤

Hard Truths

One-Shot Request: “BFF!Reader x Eddie Munson Request”

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

💌 Author’s Note: A huge thank you to @meankenna for this chaotic and incredibly fun request! You know how to bring out the absolute menace in Reader and make poor Eddie suffer in the best ways. I had fun turning this smutty setup into something shameless, sweet, and totally on-brand for our disaster duo. I hope this story gives you every giggle and groan you were craving. 💋

~Pinkie 🍒

Masterlist

Find me on AO3.

Read this story on AO3.

🎸🧋Summary: Eddie Munson’s always been cocky, loud, and way too confident for his own good. But when a prank from his best friend backfires in the filthiest, most unexpected way… he finds himself in very unfamiliar territory, flustered, wrecked, and maybe finally ready to admit the truth he’s been dodging for years.

It starts with a hard-on. It ends with something even harder… feelings.

Click "Keep Reading" below the cut to read. 😘

“Hard Truths”

It’s the end of the school day, and you’ve barely tossed your backpack into Eddie’s beat-up van before he starts up again.

“-and then she asked for my number,” Eddie’s saying, grinning around a fresh cigarette, elbow leaning out the driver’s side window. “Didn’t even have to try. I just exist and they flock, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes so hard you practically give yourself whiplash. “Eddie. You were trying. I watched you nearly drop a stack of metal magazines trying to grab that poor woman’s attention.”

He sucks in a drag, eyes squinting in mock offense. “That was strategy. Drop something, she helps pick it up, sparks fly… it’s practically physics.”

“Physics would’ve been not tripping over your own feet.”

He laughs like you’re his favorite comedian, but it doesn’t stop the brag train.

“I’m just saying, I’m built different. Steel trap focus. Mental stamina of a goddamn monk. I could go hours without cracking, even if someone tried to make me squirm.”

You raise your brow slowly, slanting your head in quiet challenge.

“Oh yeah?”

Eddie catches it. Smirks. “C’mon, babe. I’ve seen shit that’d melt your pretty little eyeballs. You think I can’t handle a little pressure?”

You hum thoughtfully, tugging open the cooler at your feet in the van’s floorboard. Inside are the usual half-melted ice packs and gas station sodas, plus one very specific can you prepped just for this occasion, label swapped, contents tweaked, timing perfect.

“You want a drink, hotshot?”

He nods, still smug. “Make it something cold. I’m burning up from all this testosterone.”

You grab the doctored Coke and hand it to him with your sweetest smile.

“Hope you’re feelin’ confident, Munson,” you say, watching as he takes a deep, unassuming swig.

“Real easy to stay cool under pressure.”

You swear he shivers just a little, but that’s probably just your imagination.

Probably.

Earlier that week, school parking lot, post-lunch chaos…

The sun was high. The pavement smelled like burnt rubber and cafeteria grease. You were halfway to your car with Gareth when the ambush hit.

SNAP! CRACKLE! POP!

A string of firecrackers went off under the metal stairwell just behind you.

You jumped a full foot in the air, nearly dropped your drink, heart slamming against your ribs like a panic attack in fast-forward.

Gareth screamed like he was being murdered. Real horror movie shit. Full soprano.

Cue Eddie Munson, cackling like a goblin from across the lot, doubled over against his van with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth and a lighter in his hand.

“Oh my god,” he wheezed, pointing at you and Gareth. “That was so much better than I thought it’d be, did you see her face? She went full Scooby-Doo mode-”

You stalked over. “You’re such a dick.”

He just laughed harder. “A creative dick.”

Gareth wiped ash off his jeans. “You’re gonna die.”

Eddie winked. “Only if I die laughing, big boy.”

Later that night, the plan was born.

You and Gareth on the back porch of your house, bottles of soda between you, scheming like the unhinged gremlins he trained you both to be.

“Viagra,” Gareth whispered like it was a war strategy.

Your eyes lit up. “You genius.”

He grinned. “No permanent damage. Just an extremely awkward night.”

“And the best part?” You leaned back, already picturing it. “We don’t even have to do anything. Just watch him suffer.”

You high-fived on it.

You never imagined it would escalate this well.

The lights are low, the VHS is rolling, and Eddie Munson is dying.

Not dramatically. Not loudly. Not in any way that anyone else would notice.

But you’re watching him like a hawk.

You’re draped over the far side of the couch with a bowl of popcorn in your lap while Gareth, Jeff, Grant and a couple other regulars sprawl around the room, half-watching some B-grade slasher flick. The room’s thick with weed smoke and body heat, but it’s not the movie or the joint making Eddie sweat.

It’s the boner.

Eddie is sitting cross-legged on the floor directly in front of the couch, and he’s been shifting for the last twenty minutes. Legs stretching, then curling. Elbows propped on knees one second, then back bracing him up the next. He keeps clearing his throat. Adjusting his shirt. Tucking a throw pillow onto his lap like he’s trying to be casual.

He’s failing. Spectacularly.

You lean forward slightly, fingers playing in the popcorn.

“You good, big guy?” you ask, all false concern, pitching your voice just above the chainsaw screams coming from the TV.

Eddie flinches, eyes cutting sideways to you. “Huh? Yeah. Peachy.”

He stretches his neck. Rolls his shoulders. Licks his lips like he’s trying to focus.

“…Just. Uh. Brain freeze.”

“Didn’t know brain freeze affected your whole body,” you murmur.

He glares at you for exactly 1.5 seconds before sharply turning back to the TV, arms crossing like he’s trying to shrink himself.

You take another lazy handful of popcorn, chewing slowly. The bulge in his sweatpants is unmistakable now, thick and insistent. He’s trying to shift again, pretending to scratch his thigh when his knuckles graze his own crotch and he winces.

You barely stop the giggle that tries to crawl up your throat.

This is going perfectly.

And he has absolutely no idea what’s happening to him.

You reach down and gently nudge him with your toe. “You sure? You look kinda… tense.”

He glares again, lower lip caught between his teeth. His voice is tight. Nearly a whisper.

“Dude. Don’t. Don’t make me talk right now.”

“What? Scared something might… come up?”

His entire face turns a shade of red you didn’t know Eddie Munson was capable of producing.

You smile. Lean back. Pop another kernel in your mouth with exaggerated delight.

Payback is so, so sweet.

Eddie tries to shift around on the ground again. You catch it, the little wince, the way his hand darts down to subtly adjust the front of his pants, and the tight, frustrated swallow that follows.

You lean back, pretending to focus on the screen, but your peripheral vision is locked in. He’s sweating now. Not buckets, but enough to make his curls stick a little at his temples. The cocky gleam in his eyes is gone, replaced with twitchy panic.

He clears his throat and grabs another throw pillow, laying it across his lap like it’s part of his décor. You watch as he tugs at the hem of his shirt, trying to stretch it downward like he’s about to discover a new law of physics.

He won’t look at you. His jaw ticks, his foot bounces.

Eddie mutters, “Jesus Christ… why now?”

You smile sweetly and offer him a fresh slice of pizza like you didn’t just watch him go through all seven stages of erectile grief.

Getting up and heading into Eddie’s kitchen, you’re standing at the counter, halfway through pouring a glass of soda, when you hear the sound of frantic sock-sliding steps behind you.

“Hey-” Eddie’s voice cracks, high-pitched and unsteady. You turn just in time to see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen, breath shallow, eyes wild.

His cheeks are flushed, curls slightly damp, and he’s got one hand buried deep in the pocket of his sweatpants like he’s trying to hold a grenade pin in place. The other hand is white-knuckled on the counter’s edge, like he needs it to anchor himself to the physical plane.

You blink. “You okay?”

“No,” he hisses through gritted teeth, stepping closer like every movement costs him something. “No, I am very much not okay.”

You hide your grin behind the rim of your glass and tilt your head like a concerned school nurse. “What’s going on?”

His face scrunches up. He gestures vaguely at his lower half. “I don’t know, alright? Something’s wrong. Something’s… off.” He runs a hand through his hair, breathing hard. “I’ve had a fucking boner for, like, an hour, and it won’t go away. I’ve tried everything short of sandpaper and an exorcism.”

You bite your lip. “You’re... hard?”

Eddie glares. “Painfully.”

You give him your best fake-concerned gasp, even as you lean a little closer, mock sympathy painted across your features. “Eddie Munson… the great conqueror of women… is down bad with a boner he can’t control?”

He lets out a strained noise that’s somewhere between a laugh and a groan, clutching the counter for balance.

“Don’t mock me right now. My dick feels like it’s gonna combust.”

For a second, all you can do is stare.

He’s pacing now, slow, desperate laps around the kitchen like a guy trying to outrun his own erection. His fingers keep twitching near the waistband of his sweats like he’s thinking of adjusting again but knows it’s useless. His jaw flexes like he’s trying to chew down a groan.

God, you didn’t mean for it to actually mess with him this much.

The prank was supposed to be harmless… just a little ego check. Something that would leave him flustered and vaguely confused, not full-on tortured. And now here he is, red-faced, sweating bullets, shifting uncomfortably like he’s got a crisis going on between his legs.

You set your glass down. Swallow once.

“Eds…”

He turns toward you so fast it makes his curls sway. “What.”

You hesitate, chewing your lip, then take a cautious step forward. “I might be able to help.”

He squints. “Help? Like… Google some remedies or something? Cold compress? Ice pack?”

You shake your head, and you’re almost blushing now. “Not exactly what I meant.”

Eddie’s brow furrows… until it doesn’t.

Until it clicks.

His whole face shorts out. He blinks, lips parting, jaw falling slack. “…Wait.”

You lift your hands. “Just to relieve the pressure, okay? This isn’t, like, a thing.”

He’s still staring, frozen like you just offered him a million dollars and also punched him in the face at the same time.

“…You’d do that?” he asks finally, voice hoarse.

You shrug. “I mean. You’re clearly not gonna survive the night otherwise.”

A moment passes.

“Okay,” he whispers, nodding furiously. “Okay, yeah. Yeah, please. God.”

You step closer, fingers hooking into the collar of his shirt, and he lets you steer him out of the kitchen and down the hall like a man under hypnosis.

You’ve barely made it three steps down the hallway before Eddie turns over his shoulder and yells, voice cracking, “Hey… uh… movie night’s over! Y’all can see yourselves out!”

You hear Gareth laughing somewhere in the living room, a faint, “Yeah, figured as much,” before the front door creaks open.

You don’t wait for it to shut.

You steer Eddie straight into his room, hand wrapped tight around his shirt collar like you’re the one in control, but the moment the door closes behind you, the air changes. Dense. Electric.

He stands there, utterly still. Eyes wide. Breathing ragged.

And you can feel it, the tension rolling off him, the arousal coiled like a spring, the way his sweatpants tent at the front so hard it looks painful.

His voice is shredded when he speaks. “You’re serious. This is seriously happening.”

You walk him backward toward the bed, your tone light but firm. “Get comfortable, Munson.”

He falls back onto the mattress like gravity gave up trying to fight you. His curls fan out on the bed, his eyes locked on yours like he still thinks he might be hallucinating.

You hook your fingers into his waistband, slow and deliberate, and tug his sweats down over his hips.

Jesus.

He’s hard. Angry red and leaking already, twitching with every heartbeat. Your mouth practically waters at the sight.

He watches your face like a man about to be executed, equal parts fear and awe.

Then your hand wraps around him and begins to stroke.

He gasps, sharp and immediate, hips jerking.

“Fuck-” he chokes, already clutching at the sheets like you’ve cast some kind of spell. “You… your hands are like… fuckin’ magic, sweetheart.”

You start slow. Just your palm and fingers, gentle and slick. Then firmer. More deliberate.

He moans through his teeth. Swears. Drops his head back and mutters your name like it’s the only thing he remembers.

And when your mouth replaces your hand…

His soul leaves his body.

Fingers twist into your hair, pulling hard enough to tell you he’s hanging on by a thread.

“Holy shit,” he groans. “I- fuck… I need it now, sweetheart. I need… please-”

You lift your head just long enough to lock eyes with him, breath hot against the head of his cock.

“I thought you said you could handle anything, Munson.”

He lets out a ragged laugh, more air than sound, and chokes on his own words as you take him deep again. He slips off his shirt and tosses it aside, his body overheated with arousal.

He’s panting now. Open-mouthed, wild-eyed. Your lips still slick from where you just had him on your tongue.

“Fuck,” he hisses again, palms planting flat on the bed as he tries to get his bearings, tries to stop his hips from thrusting up into your mouth.

You blink up at him, innocent as sin. “What’s the matter, Munson? Need a minute?”

“No.” His voice cracks as he surges up, grabbing you with a kind of raw desperation you’ve never seen in him before. “I need you.”

And just like that, you’re flipped onto your back, your hair fanning across his sheets like his had, laughter catching in your throat before it’s swallowed by a kiss that’s messy, hungry, and full of tongue and teeth.

“Too fuckin’ much,” he growls against your mouth, fumbling with the waistband of your jeans, and groping at your body desperately. “You… your mouth… fuck, I can’t-”

You giggle breathlessly, lifting your hips to help him. “Jesus, Eddie, you’re acting like this is the first time you’ve seen a pair of tits.”

“Shut up,” he mutters, eyes going wide as your shirt and bra hit the floor. “I’m trying not to explode.”

You’re naked in seconds. No finesse. No preamble. Just frantic fingers and yanked fabric and that look in his eyes like he’s about to devour you whole.

He positions you on your knees, the mattress creaking under both your weight and his urgency.

Then he slides inside.

“Fffffuck-” He gasps like he’s been punched in the gut.

You cry out at the stretch, he’s thick and twitching with need, and the way his hands grip your waist… Possessive, shaky, yet reverent.

He sets a brutal pace right out the gate. No buildup. Just need. Skin slapping skin, your thighs trembling under the force of it.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, fingers clutching the sheets as he fucks you like he’s got something to prove. “Eddie… Eddie-”

He groans behind you, low and guttural. “You feel so fuckin’ good… fuck, what the hell is wrong with me?”

You grin into the pillow, half-laughing between moans. “What? You can’t handle it?”

“I can handle-” he pants, “-so fuckin’ much, sweetheart. You have no idea.”

But it’s too much. He can’t hold back. His pace stutters, breaks. He chokes out your name with a broken sound as he cums, slamming deep and pulsing inside you.

Except…

He doesn’t go soft.

There’s a second of silence, just heavy breathing and the creak of the mattress.

He looks down.

“…Oh shit.”

You blink over your shoulder. “Still hard, huh?”

He looks haunted.

“What the fuck is up with me?”

You turn your head, eyes glinting. “I don’t know, Munson. Sounds like someone’s got some unfinished business.”

And you push back against him, slow, teasing, just to watch him break all over again.

Eddie’s still deep inside you, and still hard, dangerously so. His hands are splayed over your hips like he’s anchoring himself, like he doesn’t trust his own body to behave as he watches you ride his cock slowly.

He doesn’t move at first. Just breathes. Heavy. Dazed.

“…Okay,” he rasps. “What in the ever-loving fuck is happening right now?”

You peek back at him, bite your lip, and slowly grind back against him. His breath catches.

“Ohhh, sweetheart,” he groans. “Don’t do that. I just came, and you’re already… fuck-”

“Still up for it?” you ask sweetly, like you’re not dragging your soaked folds along his still-rigid cock just to watch him lose his mind.

“Still up-? Babe, I feel like I’m never going down again.”

And just like that… he snaps again.

Grabs a fistful of your hair, tugs you up so your spine arches into his chest.

“I told you,” he growls into your ear, hips beginning to thrust again, slow but deep, “I can handle pressure. I can handle you.”

You moan like you’re losing it, head falling back against his shoulder.

“Say it,” he pants. “Say my name.”

“Eddie-”

“Say it again.”

He’s pounding into you now, the second wind making him unhinged. It’s not just lust anymore, it’s something else. A challenge. A desperate need to make you feel what he’s feeling.

You claw at his sides, at his forearms, whatever you can reach. He’s holding you so tight you can feel every flex of his abs against your back.

Smack.

His palm lands on the side of your ass and you yelp.

“Gonna let me make you cum too, sweetheart?” he grits, “Gonna cum all over this cock like a fuckin’ good girl?”

You whimper in response, too fucked-out to speak. And he loves it.

He pulls out just enough to reach between your legs, his fingers slick and quick over your clit.

“Don’t hold it in,” he murmurs against your throat. “Cum for me. Cum so hard you milk me.”

You shatter around him, sobbing his name into the dim room, your whole body convulsing under the weight of it.

But Eddie… holy fuck, he groans loudly, spilling inside you again with a noise that sounds more beast than man.

He stays buried inside, chest heaving, mouth pressed to the slope of your neck.

“…I’m gonna die,” he whispers after a long silence. “This is how I die. Buried balls-deep in my best friend.”

You snort weakly. “What a legacy.”

His cock twitches. Still not soft.

You both go silent.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Eddie practically wails. “Why won’t it go down?!”

You giggle loudly.

“I’m serious!” Eddie whines, still buried in you, forehead pressed to your shoulder as he pants like he just ran a marathon. “It’s like… fuck… I’m stuck in horny purgatory.”

You’re still catching your breath, face flushed, body sore in every delicious way. But you can feel it too, his cock, still hard, twitching inside you like it has unfinished business.

“…Want to stop?” you ask innocently, rotating your hips and clenching around his cock. Testing him.

He groans like he’s in pain. His whole body tenses.

“Sweetheart,” he says slowly, voice ragged, “if you do that again, I’m gonna cry. Or cum again. Maybe both.”

You grin, then flip the script, pushing him onto his back on the bed and straddling him.

Then you ride him.

Again, no preamble. No teasing. Just roll your hips slow and filthy like you know exactly what you’re doing, because you do.

Eddie groans your name. His fingers claw into your thighs, eyes glassy with overstimulation.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, “this is… this is illegal. I swear… you’re gonna break me, baby, you’re gonna break me.”

He’s all grit and desperation now. Letting you take control. Mouth open, eyes fluttering shut when you grind down just right, clenching around him.

“Shit… shit-” he hisses through his teeth. “Why does it still feel so good? Is this what dying feels like?”

You lean down, kiss the corner of his open mouth.

“Want me to stop?” you whisper again.

His hands fist the sheets. “Fuck no. Use me. I’m yours. Just… please… fuck-”

You ride him harder.

The wet slap of skin fills the room again, your moans mixing with his wrecked whimpers as he stares at you like he’s in a dream.

And when he finally cums again, he practically sobs your name as your pussy milks him with your own release.

It’s obscene. Beautiful. A little pathetic. Everything he deserves.

He twitches inside you as you slow to a stop, muscles jerking, thighs shaking.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes, completely wrecked, flopped back on the mattress like a man who’s seen the face of God.

You climb off slowly, already reaching for a towel and water bottle.

Eddie just stares at the ceiling, dazed.

“…Do I have a tumor?” he mumbles. “Is that what this is? Is my dick haunted?”

You can’t help it, you crack up. Cover your mouth to muffle the laugh, but it’s too late.

He narrows his eyes, blinking through his post-orgasm haze.

“…Why are you laughing at my terrible misfortune?”

“Because,” you say, biting your lip, “maybe I slipped something into your drink.”

He blinks. Once. Twice.

“...Like what.”

You bat your lashes. “Just a little blue… helper. For science.”

“Helper?”

You nod sweetly. “Viagra.”

His mouth drops open.

“You drugged me?”

“It’s FDA approved,” you argue, grinning now. “And technically it was Gareth’s idea.”

He covers his face with both hands.

“Oh my god. I’ve been chemically assaulted by my best friends.”

You crawl up beside him and press a kiss to his cheek.

“But you loved it.”

“…That’s not the point.”

But his arm still loops around you.

And he still cracks a smile.

You’re sprawled together in his bed now, limbs tangled, your cheek pressed against his chest while he catches what little breath he has left. His heart's still racing, thudding beneath your ear.

There’s silence, for once.

Then you quietly ask, “Are you mad at me?” as you bat your lashes at him, lifting your head, your voice all mock-innocent and sweet.

He turns his head to look at you.

Face flushed, hair a mess, lips still red and parted, and absolutely, undeniably done for.

“…You’re a menace.” A long pause. “You little shit.”

You’re about to apologize… kind of, but then he says, “I’m in love with you.”

It’s not shouted. Not dramatic. Just… said. Like it’s always been true and he’s finally not fighting it anymore.

Your breath catches. You blink. “What?”

Eddie grins, leans in, and kisses you, like he means it. Not just heat. Heart.

“You heard me.”

You melt right into it. The kiss, the arms around you, the feeling of his body softening against yours… finally giving in, finally safe.

When he pulls back, he taps your nose.

“You do realize you owe me at least three more ‘treatments,’ right? To offset the psychological trauma of being pranked with a boner pill?”

You snort. “Three more, huh?”

“At minimum.” He stretches like a cat, groans, then immediately winces. “Though I may need like… a week before I can even look at my dick again.”

You cuddle in close. “Worth it.”

He mumbles into your hair, “I’m gonna blow your back out.”

And he sounds delighted about it.

By the time sleep starts to tug at the corners of your vision, he’s whispering again, barely audible through the haze.

“…my evil little nurse. My best friend. The love of my life. Jesus Christ.”

A moment passes.

Then, smirking against your hair he says, “Next time you wanna get me hard, sweetheart… there are much more pleasurable ways to get what you want.”

You grin as you fall asleep in his arms, already plotting round four.

Who loves Eddie Munson, show of hands! 😂 Let me know if you want to be added to my tag list! @justalotoffanfiction, @yorshie, @jackalope-in-a-storm, @v1per1ne, @daveythorntonslocker, @cokepowder55, @kelsiegrin, @ash-stardust, @meankenna, @kellsck, @chronicles-of-koystee, @micheledawn1975, @fckyeahlames, @cantstandya2000, @totallysocially, @exasperatedsighohmy, @marianaissocool, @boggerslide, @sheneedsrocknroll92, @n3lly-h3artz, @comeonatmebruh, @goingxsteddie, @msmimiandrew, @cpnsteverogers

Masterlist

118 notes · View notes

trashmouth-richie · 1 year ago

Note

I feel like I’m really bad at prompts so I’m just gonna go with my “do’s” from costar today…

Stomping. Instant coffee. Cold* shower.

*“Cold” autocorrected to “come” and I almost didn’t fix it, soooo…do with that what you will.

OH MY LOVE.

hoping my slutty choices for this prompt find you well.

18+, no minors, acts of sex, yay.

**peep my little hints at 90s tv and movies—there are 4 🖤

<1k

send me a prompt from this post ! (writers block is killing me !)

Cold beads of water trickle like ice down your body. Making your already pert nipples stand at attention and harden in an instant.

Cursing the boy you’ve been best friends with since diapers, you turn the faucet off in a quickened haste— exiting the tub in an anything but graceful fashion, stubbing your toes on the way out.

“Eddie!” your shrill voice is clouded by the throbbing in your foot and the chatter in your teeth. “Did you pay the water bill?”

One job, the menace had one job— one duty for the small shared apartment, and it was to pay the water bill each month.

Wrapping yourself in a threadbare towel that had once been a swim towel for an uppity family— you stomp down to his bedroom, kicking open the door with enough rage to channel Jackie Chan.

You should have knocked. Fuck, why didn’t you knock?

Eddie was naked.

Pale-moon colored ass on display.

Thigh muscles rippled beneath dark patchwork tattoos, arms that never looked muscly suddenly flexed tight. A veiny hand wrapped tight around a black haired pony tail. Hips, his hips were— fucking, thrusting, pounding.

His mouth was slack, slick like an oil painting, head back and eyes rolled to squinted ivory surrounded with a colossal woodland of thick lashes.

Sweat coated his brow, dribbling down until it collected on his cupids bow, a salty pooled tease. His rougey lips were spit coated, sheer— glossy— begging for your tongue to taste them.

Your heart thumped loudly, heat in your core on its own tempo, hot and deep.

And then you hear it.

A whimper. Softer than silk, low, whiny, almost sweetly pathetic in its delivery from a deep space in his throat.

Your cheeks warm, cunt heated like a fire, sirens going off for extreme temperatures.

Oh—fuck.

His eyes meet yours and you hold his gaze for a second. The clouded look of a man being sucked dry took over his normal instant coffee colored irises. Glaucoma esque beauty in the dark swirls, and you wet your lips at the sight of him— at Eddie Munson— resident freak of Hawkins and your best friend.

Jesus.

Both your lips explicitly mutter words with eyes wild doe like. His going from lazy pleasure to shock. Yours were covered with your palm, the other reaching, fumbling for the door knob.

Apologizing profusely you suddenly stammer around clearing your throat and trying to leave ASAP.

The towel around your middle, the only thing keeping you decent, glides to the ground—falling gently like that fucking feather in opening scenes of Forest Gump. Practically in slow motion but still too quick for your blind shut eyes to catch it.

Fuck.

Pulling with both hands on the knob your heart races to shut the door, not registering that the towel is wedged tight between the frame, making it impossible to shut.

Shit shitshitshitshitSHIT

With a last feeble attempt of yanking your arms, the latch clicks into place and you beeline to your room with a slam of your door so hard it ricocheted off the walls, making a framed picture of you and Eddie at a Metallica concert fall to the ground, shattering the glass.

What the fuck? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!

Your heart boomed in your ears, back stuck to the door like you were holding it up. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen Eddie naked, pretty sure your entire graduating class saw him naked on more than one occasion. But this?! This was so mouthwatering better than any other time.

Goosebumps spread across your skin at the burned image of Eddie getting head on your retinas. The two of you had never crossed those lines. Each dating, fucking around it never once crossed your mind what he would be like in the sack, or what his sack would be like in your mouth.

You’re pleased when you don’t cringe at the dirty thoughts of him— it felt like second nature, like eve seeing adam —lol okay maybe not, but still! What your mind was conjuring up was biblical.

A giggle surpasses your lips and you wipe a line of drool from the corner of your mouth. Nerves finally settling as your realization hits— who was it?

It wasn’t Sarah, you hadn’t seen her since last fall. Eddie had said she started dating Steve—his comic book “arch nemesis” but in reality another bestie, who spent most of his time wallowing on your couch about Nancy than he did actually going on dates.

Mary ended up being a virgin—preacher’s daughter, one of seven. He stopped seeing Clarissa after she wouldn’t stop over explaining every single minute detail of her day. Could it be the girl with the green leather jacket? Darla? Daria?

The horny ache in your belly soured like curdled milk.

How dare her (whoever she was!) The thought of someone other than you pulling those noises from Eddie suddenly set you on edge. Rage burned through your veins like lightning. Spidering and leeching to your skin.

The pajamas you had taken off before your shower lay in a heap on your floor and you quickly yanked them on. Muttering to yourself about every vile thing you could imagine about whoever the lucky girl was who currently had a mouthful of your roommate.

You needed to leave. The clouds of embarrassment eased overhead, colliding with the lightning making a storm brew deep beneath your surface and you be damned if you were going to let the rain fall whilst still in this apartment.

Keys in your palm you throw open your bedroom door, ready to bolt through your apartment and down to your car— destination unknown.

You nearly knock him over in your attempt to run. But you’re stopped cold by sweaty bangs, a heaving chest, and the same stupid pair of boxers that had small tears along the elastic from years of wear.

“Sweetheart…” he coaxed, voice so sugary and laced with tiny shreds of venom it could ice a wedding cake— then strike you dead.

You had seen plenty of Eddie today, your body screamed for you to leave, but your feet were stuck in the icing, waiting for the bomb to drop.

Warmth from your cheeks from your shame could keep a trailer with broken windows warm in a blizzard—your stomach flipped— dropped like lead as his next words hit like a bullet.

“We need to talk.”

part two

steve tied up

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie drabble #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie blurb #eddie munson smut blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst

557 notes · View notes

virgoisqueen11 · 5 months ago

Text

Welcome to my silly little Martin fanfic 🖤 I keep watching the new Fontaines DC music video, like I’m OBSESSED with it. I’ll definitely be writing more Martin fanfics soon ✨

There is smut in this fanfic, so have fun with that 🌚

Enjoy!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

It was a quiet evening in the town you lived in. This place was practically a ghost town because no one ever visited, especially at this time of year when the weather was frigid and ice cold. Due to it being so quiet, you knew you were never in real danger when going on nightly strolls, so you tended to do so whenever you got the chance. Who doesn't like a peaceful nighttime walk? The scenery was always so beautiful with the moon's luminous rays illuminating your skin, the wet pavement shining from the reflection of street lamps, and the occasional hoot of an owl. You certainly loved the night.

You used to be scared that there would be drugged weirdos trying to lunge at you from dark alleyways when you first moved into town, but you were thankfully proven wrong. While you had neighbors and saw commoners around the block, it was usually just the same people you saw on a daily. Nothing new. The only interesting living creatures that inhabited your town were the stray cats that keep populating for God knows why. You smiled as you bumped into one by the sidewalk. A black cat with short fur and glowing green eyes in the night's dim light.

"Hey, you." You reached your hand to pet the cat. Stray cats usually jump at the sight of a stranger, but not this one. He typically greeted you whenever you reached your hand out, head bonking it to show affection.

After saying hello to your feline friend, you continued your walk. You huffed some air into your palms as you walked, as your fingers started to feel like they were going numb and were about the fall off. Your walks are usually longer, but thanks to the cold and uninviting weather, you decided to cut it short.

As you made your way back, you couldn't help but feel there was something besides that cat that was watching you. You usually felt so unbothered on your walks, but this time was different, much different. You kept your head on a swivel the entire time you walked back to your apartment. Something did not feel right.

You practically paced back to your place. You did not want to be out here alone for another minute. Especially not after hearing a noise in the distance....

"I hope to God that's an animal...." You heard crackling twigs and leaves behind you, your hair was standing up in goosebumps. You did not feel safe tonight.

After a few more turns, you finally made it back to your tiny, one-story apartment. The apartment complex you lived at had other apartments close by, it was practically a cookie-cutter neighborhood, only less cryptic and creepy.

As you unlocked your front door, you stepped in and turned around to lock the door again. As your attention was on the lock, you felt a hand suddenly cover your mouth, causing you to gasp as your eyes widen. Your heart was palpitating. Someone broke in your apartment....

You were terrified for your life, afraid that this may actually be it and you will leave this earth thanks to a psychopath who broke into your home. You were like a frightened mouse. That is, until you heard the figure speak.

"Why so tense? That's not a nice way to greet a friend." The soft-spoken English accent... the smirk in those words, the way they rolled off the tongue so smoothly without any effort. You know exactly who this is.

"Martin?!" You exclaimed after removing his hand from your mouth and turning around to look at him. "How the hell did you get in here?!"

"You left your back door unlocked." He pointed behind him with his thumb. "Why are you so scared? Aren't you happy to see me, hm?"

You slapped his arm, causing him to chuckle. "I would've been happier to see you if I didn't nearly shit my pants! Who greets someone by breaking into their home!"

"Me, that's who." Martin smiled at your flustered expression. He's the same way you've always remembered him to be. Long, shaggy, greasy, black hair that goes down to his shoulders, scars and bruises on his face from all the trouble he gets into, and the fashion of a typical European on drugs, only he didn't do drugs.... Not that you knew of.

You looked up at him as he stood there. It had been years since you've last seen Martin, you forgot just how tall he was... and apparently how sculpted. Does he lift, you couldn't help but wonder.

"Are you checking me out?" Martin chuckled as he watched your eyes examine him.

"No.... Just examining you.... You haven't changed a bit, Martin." Your expression softened and you walked closer to him, placing a hand on his arm and rubbing it through the leather material of his jacket.

"Neither have you, little plum." You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Little plum. The nickname he had given you years ago when you first met.

"You still remember that nickname?"

"How could I forget! I'll always remember your reaction when you tried a bite out of that unripe plum." Martin laughed playfully. Just like you always remembered, he loves to tease. He may be a quiet man overall, but he does have a playful side.

"It was a traumatizing experience." Martin laughed even harder at your sarcastic comment.

"If trying an unripe plum gave you trauma, then you wouldn't last a minute in my shoes."

"I would never wear those." You just kept making him laugh. You smiled as you saw him crack up, it was never easy to make this man giggle. You, however.... You always had a different effect on him that not many others did.

"You're just as funny as I remember, little plum." Martin smiled fondly as he looked down at you. Your hands were on his arms, his hands were on your arms as well, and the moment was quiet as you just looked at each other. Then, after a beat, you both embraced each other tightly. This was the first real hug either one of you had received in a very, very long time.

"I missed you...." You whispered as you hugged Martin tight. Your face was buried in his chest.

"I missed you too...." He rested his cheek against the top of your head as you stood by the front door in each other's embrace. This felt right....

As you had your face pressed against his chest, you started to remember the comforting way he smelled. The musk, the strong scent of cigarette smoke that others found repulsive but you found incredibly attractive and soothing, and the familiarity.... You took a deep breath of his scent and sighed.

"You sniffing me?" Martin teased with a chuckle. "Good. I missed when you would do that." He kissed the top of your head, making you blush.

You didn't want to cut this sweet moment short, but you also wanted to understand why Martin, a past best friend and lover, a man you haven't seen in years, would suddenly visit you at this hour. You reluctantly pulled away and softly questioned him.

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

Martin's smile never faded. He knew you'd ask, he was waiting for you to. "I was in the area.... I found a place here in the neighborhood. I'm moving in." You felt your heart pounding even harder.

"W-what? You're moving in? In this neighborhood?"

He smiled and chuckled at your confusion. You were so cute to him. "Yes, this neighborhood." He interlocked his fingers with yours. "I have the expenses to live here... and in truth, I missed you so much, it was starting to hurt, so now I'm here."

"So you rented a place in my neighborhood because you missed me and then followed me home like a psychotic and obsessive boyfriend?"

"Yeah, pretty much." He nodded like it was nothing. The way he was so unbothered by your question and answered it as if you only had asked him what his favorite color was made you laugh. His nonchalance will always be humorous.

"You're funny." You sighed and shook your head. "So that was you that I heard in the bushes?"

"You heard me? My stealth wasn't as successful as I had hoped, then." He sounded almost disappointed that you heard him. "But yeah, that was me. Why? Did I scare you?" He wiggled his eyebrows, hoping your answer would be the one he wanted.

"Of course you did, I thought someone was going to kill me!" You looked at him with an incredulous expression. Of course he scared you, he's asking an obvious question.

Martin chuckled softly and rubbed your arms, almost like he was apologizing. "I wasn't going to kill you, no. You're too cute for that." He smiled then booped your nose gently.

"Well, other than saying hello, what other reasons did you have for coming here?"

Your question softened Martin's expression. He looked at you with the gentlest eyes that made your heart flutter. He took your small hand into his and squeezed it softly. "Like I said.... I missed you, love." He placed a loving kiss on the back of your hand, making you blush.

"I missed you too.... More than you could even imagine...." You were spacing out as you thought about all the lonely nights you had spent without him. It had been six years, six painful years of not seeing Martin. Your relationship was just flourishing, freshly potted in fact, and then came your call from the university you applied to way before you even thought you and Martin would ever become a thing. Hell, you didn't even know you'd have a man like Martin to call your own, you always thought you'd end up alone. He proved you wrong all those years ago but unfortunately, you had to cut things short.

You could've stayed with Martin and ditch college, that's what you told him, but of course, Martin isn't that selfish. He had advised you to stay on your path, to keep taking your education seriously, and of course that goth speaks to you like others don't, so you listened and went to college.

You were sixteen when you applied for that university. You wanted to file your applications early so you wouldn't have to deal with the stress in your senior years. You really thought all you had going for you was that university, then Martin came along....

You were sixteen and sophisticated, he was seventeen and wild with a terrible smoking habit that he still has. You two were opposites in ways, but also the exact same in others. The thing that brought you most together, however, was your bond over books, music, and art. He loves gothic romance, you love gothic romance. He loves alternative and death metal, and so did you, despite having a love for the soft pop that Martin only ever cared for because you liked it. He loved sketching and painting, you loved being his muse and canvas. There was just a lot that made your relationship harmonious. Martin felt like your other half, so leaving him all those years ago to go to college felt like an absolute torture method.

But now he's back. He's back to fill that void you thought would stay there until you died. It's been so long, you actually thought Martin forgot about you. You had assumed he found another girl, assumed he moved on. The thought of him kissing and holding other girls quite literally made you want to throw up, even now. You still can't help but wonder....

"Why did you never call me? Or text? Anything to keep in touch?" Martin understood your worry and responded with something that nearly made you bark with laughter.

"My phone exploded." Exploded? What the hell does he mean EXPLODED?

"Did you say exploded?" You were holding back the laughter. "How the fuck does your phone explode?"

Martin wasn't embarrassed to answer. Nothing ever embarrasses him when he's with you. "I honestly have no fucking idea. I think I was drunk when it happened. I was hanging out with street mates the night before, then the next morning when I woke up, I checked my phone and it started smoking until it eventually blew up. I think it was the battery."

"That's gonna happen to you too if you keep smoking those cigarettes." You smiled a little as you took the jab at him, then Martin rolled his eyes and flicked your forehead.

"Shut up, my lungs are healthy." Martin spoke in a sarcastic annoyed tone as he rubbed your forehead, the same spot he flicked.

"I know, I know. I'm just teasing." You chuckled and smiled fondly as he rubbed your forehead. "But back to the topic, sure your phone broke, but why didn't you get a new one?"

Martin shrugged. "I have no use for that shit, plus the phone bill is ridiculous. I saved up money and it's a good thing I did." He held your hand again. "Now we're close again."

Your heart skipped several beats. "So that's why you didn't ever reach out.... I thought you forgot I existed."

Your words were enough to nearly knock Martin over. "What?! Me? Forget you?! Sweetheart, that's physically impossible. I thought about you every single day after you left. You were in my mind so much, that when I'd be speaking casually, I'd accidentally say your fucking name. I never forgot about you. Forgetting your existence is a foreign concept to me."

His words had your cheeks heating up. Your pupils began to dilate the longer you looked at him. The spark you felt when you first dated Martin was definitely still there. In fact, that spark just might be maturing into a strong flame.

"Really...?" You did not know what to say.

"Yes, really." Martin smiled and cupped your face in his hands. His smile then turned into a smirk. "Why don't I show you how much I missed you?"

You raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean-" Before you had the chance to say anything else, he suddenly picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder, making you squeal. "Ah! Martin!"

He chuckled mischievously as he brought you down the hall where he assumed your bedroom was located. When he found your room, he kicked the door open then threw you on the bed, making you gasp.

"Okay, no need to be so aggressive!" Martin only chuckled at that as he went to close the door and lock it.

"Oh, you're fine. The bed is soft so I can get as rough as I want." He then approached you and gently pushed you down so he could straddle you. You felt like prey from this position.

Martin leaned his head down so you two would be face to face. You could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath, your heart jolting at the memories it brought you. Without warning, he captured your lips with his own and kissed you deeply. He pressed his tongue against your lip, demanding entrance and when you gave it to him, he deepened the kiss. His tongue danced with yours, eliciting a soft moan from you. The kiss was so hungry, so lustful. It was causing heat to rush in places you needed him most.

The kiss was nice, but you suddenly pulled away, causing Martin to frown. "W-what's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?" Martin's concern for your wellbeing speaks volumes. Despite being in a passionate and intense mood, he still finds it pivotal to make sure you're okay.

"N-no, no I'm not uncomfortable. It's just...." You hesitated for a minute.

Martin was still straddling you, but his touch was more gentle and soft. He caressed your cheek. "It's just what?"

"Do you really want to continue this? It's been six years, Martin.... Do we really want to rush into intimacy?" You guys just stared at each other for a moment. It was silent, almost uncomfortably so, and then suddenly, you both broke down in laughter. You weren't being serious, he knows you aren't. You may have separated, but neither one of you found a different lover. You both waited for this moment for so long, that waiting again would be torture for no reason.

"Shut your ass up and let me kiss you, whore." Martin said playfully, making you chuckle as you let him kiss you again. This time his kiss was soft and sweet, but still had the passion. He began to kiss your neck and leave hickeys that made you sigh and moan. He bit your collarbone roughly, eliciting a whimper from your soft lips.

Martin growled softly as he continued to kiss your neck roughly. He then began to slowly remove your clothing, starting with the jeans he wanted off of you the moment he saw your beautiful face again. He then slowly removed your shirt, his dick getting harder at the sight of you in nothing but your bra and panties. He was about to lose his damn mind.

"So beautiful." He whispered as he kissed your chest. "So fucking beautiful." He cupped your covered breast, tracing the laced fabric of your bra with a hungry smile.

Martin is an observant man. A very, very observant man. Around your room you had blankets and pictures crocheted, all of which you did yourself. It's your hobby, one he knew you had since early high school. He had a wicked glint in his eye. You know that means he has an idea.

"What?"

Martin smirked as he looked down at you. "Do you have spare yarn?"

"I-... why?" The question caught you off guard.

Martin placed a finger to your lips. "Shh, just answer. Do you?"

Your heart was about to explode when he pressed his fingers to your lips. "Yes... yes, I do...."

"Perfect." Martin smiled. "Where is it?" When you pointed to a drawer with all of your crochet equipment, he rolled off of you to fetch them.

"Take the rest of your clothes off, baby." He was going through the drawer of yarn, looking for the right color. He went for black.

You did as he said and removed the rest of your clothes. Now you're naked and he's still fully clothed. The vulnerability was making you feel... well, naked.

He saw that you were feeling a little self-conscious and while he doesn't want you to feel bad about yourself, he found your vulnerability to be arousing. You're like a cute little bird. "Good girl. Relax, okay? I'm going to try something."

He took a very, very long string of yarn then snipped it off with your fabric scissors. He then approached you with the yarn and began to tie it around your body, making you gasp.

"W-what are you doing?"

"Shh. Trust me, okay? This will feel good for the both of us." He kissed your forehead gently to reassure you as he continued to tie the yarn. He wrapped it around your waist, your ass, your thighs, and even your breasts. It was like makeshift lingerie.

After he was done with his work, he hummed in approval, then went to grab even more yarn. He grabbed thicker pieces, snipped it off with the scissors, then approached you again.

"Give me your wrists." You did as he said, then he suddenly began to tie your wrists together with the yarn. He tied it tight, making sure you couldn't move if you tried.

"Can you move your wrists?" When you shook your head, he smiled and chuckled. "Good. Now we can have fun." He then removed his clothes until he was in nothing but his briefs. His erection was so huge, you couldn't help but turn a shade of red.

"Like what you see?" He teased, then with a slow, tantalizing motion, he pulled them down, revealing his hardened cock. Your breath hitched. You've seen it before, of course you have, but you forgot about something crucial.... He's a grower. When he's hard, that thing is practically a monster. You couldn't walk for three days last time.

He noticed your worry and chuckled as he crawled over your body. He played with a string of the yarn he had tied around your body, then cupped your breast, rubbing your soft nipple with his thumb just so he can hear you moan.

"Mmm, that's right. Sing for me, my pretty bird." He whispered in your ear as he continued to play with your nipples. He then leaned his head down to take your hardened nipple into his mouth and he began sucking, making you moan and whimper. He swirled his tongue around the nipple as his other hand fondled your free breast.

As he worked on your breasts, he pushed your legs apart and suddenly plunged two fingers into your entrance, causing you to scream out. "Martin!"

He chuckled and smirked, then removed his slick fingers to lick them clean. "You're already so wet for me. You want me to fuck you hard, hm? Want me to make you take every inch of my cock like a little whore?" You whimpered as a response, then he plunged his fingers back into you, pumping them in and out just to hear you cry out in pleasure.

As he plunged deep into your warmth, he began to rub your clit with his thumb, adding pressure just to see you squirm. "That's right. That's my whore. Sing for me, baby."

You kept whimpering and begging for more, then suddenly, you came. Martin growled at the sight, he wasn't giving you permission to do that yet. He wasn't actually mad, though. Of course he wasn't. He was, however, more aroused.

"Oh, you naughty slut. I didn't say you could do that yet, did I?" He suddenly wrapped his hand around your throat, making you gasp. His grip tightened slightly. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to show you he could show you pain if he wanted to. He wasn't choking you. Not yet, anyway.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" You whimpered as he added more pressure to your throat. He chuckled darkly.

"Say that again, you dirty bitch." He spat on you, causing you to whimper again. You felt humiliated, but you also felt so turned on. You're practically dripping.

"I-I'm sorry!" You whimpered breathlessly as you trembled with anticipation.

"Not yet you aren't. But I'll make you sorry in a moment, whore." He tightened his grip, just enough to make you hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

He then plunged three fingers into you, roughly pumping in and out of you at such a fast pace, you were starting to see stars. Once again, you came without him giving you permission to do so.

"Again? Oh, you dirty slut." He tightened his grip on your neck, choking you and making you gasp. It wasn't until he saw that your face was actually turning slightly purple where he let go, letting you breathe again.

You gasped for air, the dizziness still strong as you took in oxygen again. Martin smirked at the sight of you so out of breath. He wanted to bring you all the pain and pleasure he could tonight.

He let you catch your breath for only a moment. It wasn't long until he pinned you down even harder and placed his hand back on your throat. "Open your legs, whore." He spat on you again, making you recoil a bit as you spread your legs.

He growled at the sight of you spread out so perfectly for him. He gently caressed your thigh, his fingertips leaving fire in its wake. "You're going to take every single inch of me, whore. Do you understand?" When you nodded and whimpered, he growled again then plunged deep into you, causing you to scream out his name.

"Martin!" You moaned loudly. You'd clutch the sheets as he fucks you, but you don't have your hands at the moment. You have no choice but to take this like a trooper.

"That's right. Scream for me, baby." His movements weren't soft, nor were they gentle. He was plunging into you like a feral beast, keeping his hand wrapped around your neck as he did so.

You screamed for more, tears streaming down your face as he fucked you hard and raw. When he heard you beg for more, he suddenly slapped you, causing you to scream out. "Shut it, whore. I'll give you more when I want to." Which wasn't long. He instantly plunged deeper, going all the way inside until you practically felt your cervix bruising up.

You felt like you were going to come again. You were clenching around his thick cock, which he noticed. He growled and slapped you again, this time harder. "Not yet, whore. Be a good girl for me. No coming unless I say so."

You nodded, but that wasn't fair. He's pumping into you so hard and fast, how are you supposed to not come? Still, you would try your best. He saw this effort and chuckled.

"That's right. You wait for me. Fuck.... You're so tight and warm, baby." He slowed down just a bit just so he can feel your warmth around his cock. You whimpered softly and desperately. The sensations were driving you insane. The pain and pleasure of taking every inch of his cock inside of you, the stinging sensation he left on your cheek when he slapped you, the bruises forming on your neck as he choked you, not to mention the way the thin layers of that yarn was staring to cut you up a bit. It was all so much.

Too much, in fact. You were so close to stopping him because your limits were truly being violated, but you held on for him. You didn't have to wait too long, though. After a moment, you heard him growl again and his movements got faster.

"Fuck!" He suddenly went painfully fast, then, with a moan, you felt his warm seed shoot inside of you. He was breathing heavily, his grip on your throat loose enough so you could breathe freely again.

After he caught his breath, he slowly pulled out of you then collapsed on the bed beside your aching body. He seemed to recover quickly, as did you, only you're starting to now feel the pain that your pleasure was hiding.

He noticed the slight discomfort on your face as you laid there and caught your breath. Your cheek was red and raw from where he slapped you and your bruised in several places, as well as a few cuts from the yarn.

"Oh... hold on, let me get this off of you." He gently unraveled the strings of yarn that he tightly tied around your body. He freed your body, leaving angry red marks behind. He then gently freed your wrists as well, you sighing in relief as he did so. You lost all feeling in your hands.

"There we go... better?" Martin asked as he freed your body. When you nodded slowly, Martin smiled and caressed your arm. "Good."

He laid down beside you then pulled you in his arms. His touch was much more soothing and gentle this time. A complete contrast to how he had been touching you before.

"You did such a good job, you know that? You took every inch of me without complaining. I'm proud of you. You're such a good girl." He kissed your head softly, then your cheek where had slapped you. He turned your head to the side so he could look at the marks he left on your body. The sight was almost enough to make him take you for a round two, but he didn't want to overdo it and actually hurt you.

"Oh, baby.... Do these hurt?" He gently caressed a few bruises he had left on your neck from when he choked you.

"A little.... They're throbbing...." Martin smiled softly when you said that.

"Good... means I did a good job." He chuckled then gently, very, very gently, kissed the bruises on your neck. He kissed your cheek too, as that seemed to be the worst of the marks. "That... may leave a bruise too.... Jesus, how hard did I slap you?" He didn't intend to leave a mark this angry. He must've forgotten his own strength.

"Does this hurt too?" You couldn't verbally respond, so you nodded. Now everything is catching up to you. You feel vulnerable and small.

"Oh, baby...." He spoke softly and pulled you back into his arms. He kissed the top of your head as he cuddled you, doing everything he can in the aftercare to make sure you feel comfortable and safe again.

He gently ran his fingers over your arm as he did what he could to comfort you. When he noticed you were awake but weren't saying anything, he became a bit worried. "Are you okay?"

You nodded. That's it, that's the only response you could give. Your pain tolerance is high, but right now you're vulnerable, so your pain feels stronger than it normally would. He saw your eyes get a bit misty, his own eyes going wide.

"L-love? Are you sure you're okay?" He tilted your head up so he could look at you. You were getting a bit teary.

"I'm okay...." You blinked away a tear.

"No you're not.... Was I too rough? What's wrong, I thought you liked it?" He was so confused. He caused you pain sure, but he caused you more pleasure than anything else. Right?

"I-I did.... But I can feel the pain that my pleasure was making me forget about." He nodded and held you even tighter.

"Oh.... I understand.... Where does it hurt, baby?"

"My neck hurts the most.... And these little cuts sting." Now Martin feels bad. He didn't realize that he was hurting you so much. He also didn't know realize that all that pain would catch up to you later and make you suffer the consequences. He feels like a dick.

"I'm so sorry.... Just let me cuddle you, okay? You'll feel better with some rest." He held you tighter, pressing your face against his chest as he rubbed your back.

"Shh.... You did so good baby, please don't cry. Just relax, okay? You're safe in my arms." His words were like a soothing balm to your soul. You sighed softly, then closed your eyes to try and get some sleep.

"There you go.... I've got you." He kissed your forehead very gently. "Goodnight.... I'll be here when you wake up."

You sighed again, then within seconds, you were asleep in his arms. Did the pain hurt after everything was done? Yes, very much so. Did you enjoy being his toy for a little while as he fucked your brains out? Absolutely. You'd do it again in a heartbeat. You knew that Martin meant no true harm by getting rough with you like that. You've always known he's a bit sadistic, despite being a soft lover. Pain and pleasure is just how he shows his love and you accepted that a long time ago.

As you fell asleep, you smiled peacefully, making Martin smile at the sight. "Cutie.... That's right, just sleep, my love."

#ewan mitchell #ewan nation #fanfic #smut #fluff #writing #fontaines d.c.#martin ewan mitchell #goth boyfriend #degrading k1nk #choke play #praise and degradation

107 notes · View notes

girl-of-many-fandoms · 2 months ago

Text

Collateral Hearts

Pairing: Captain John Price x oc

Summary: When a brutal attack targets a hospital, ex-military sniper Leah Price is forced out of hiding—and back into the world of covert warfare she left behind. Calling in the only contact she trusts, she crosses paths with her estranged husband, Captain John Price. As bullets fly and buried wounds resurface, Leah must decide if she’s ready to fight not just for survival—but for the man who once let her go.

MASTERLIST

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

🪖🖤🪖🖤 🪖🖤🪖🖤 🪖🖤🪖🖤 🪖🖤🪖🖤 🪖🖤

Leah Price hadn’t fired a weapon in five years.

Not since she and John split. Not since the endless nights filled with waiting, worrying, and watching him choose war over her. She’d buried that part of herself—alongside a gold ring, an old rifle case, and the name she no longer wore on her dog tags.

Now, she went by Leah Carter. Trauma nurse. Quiet. Efficient. Detached. A ghost with a stethoscope.

That was, until tonight.

The hospital had gone eerily silent. Not the sterile, tension-filled quiet she was used to—this was deathly. The power cut out first. Then came the static over the radios. And then—gunfire.

Controlled. Surgical. Too damn precise for a robbery or random violence.

Leah moved fast, ducking beneath the nurse’s station as shadows filled the hallway. Her mind recalibrated in seconds, training kicking in like a reflex. She reached for the supply closet and cracked it open, retrieving the trauma shears, a needle, and her old locker in the basement—an item she’d never thought she’d need again.

Her sniper knife.

A flash of memory burned through her as she wrapped her fingers around it. John’s voice, low and hoarse from a mission: “You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen, Leah. Deadlier than me. Never let anyone tell you otherwise.”

She tucked the blade into her boot, heart steadying.

Someone was hunting her. Not the hospital. Her.

There’s only one person she could turn to for help.

And only one person might know where he was.

She yanked the emergency satellite phone she kept locked away for absolute emergencies. Dialed the one number no one else had.

“Laswell,” came the terse, alert voice.

“It’s Leah,” she said. “I need an exfil.”

There was a pause. Static. Then: “Holy hell. Leah—how the fu—Never mind. I’ve got you. I’ll ping a nearby team. Hold tight. Are you armed?”

Leah glanced at the knife, then at the unconscious security guard’s pistol she’d picked up.

“I am now.”

—————————————————

Somewhere in Eastern Europe, the 141 was midway through a debrief when Laswell’s voice broke through the comms.

“I’ve got a priority exfil request. Hospital in London’s under siege. You’re the closest. Civilian target—code classified. Captain, it’s related to you.”

Price’s head jerked up.

“What did you just say?” he growled.

“I said, this is connected to you, John.”

Gaz frowned. “Since when does Price have civvies callin’ for rescue?”

Soap chuckled. “What’d you do, Cap? Piss off an ex?”

Price’s silence said more than words.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Price ran a hand through his beard. “She wasn’t supposed to be in this world anymore.”

“Who?” Gaz pressed.

Price clenched his jaw. “My wife.”

“You’re married?!” Soap nearly choked.

“Estranged,” Price muttered. “And if she’s calling Laswell, it’s worse than we think.”

—————————————————-

Back at the hospital, Leah moved like a ghost through the halls—clearing rooms, tending to survivors when she could, but keeping her focus on survival. Her white scrubs were stained with blood—none of it hers. Yet.

She shot clean, crisp—three men down with stolen sidearms. Tactical gear, insignias stripped. Mercs, or worse.

She hacked into the hospital’s surveillance room, scanning for their breach points, mentally logging escape routes and supply caches. Her breath stayed calm. Her eyes, colder than ice.

She was no longer Nurse Carter.

She was Sergeant Leah Price again—callsign White Rabbit. The one that vanished in the snow before the shot even rang out.

———————————————

141 breached the perimeter 23 minutes after Laswell’s call. The hospital was a warzone. Bodies littered the halls. And at the center of it—

“There,” Ghost said, pointing to a figure crouched near the third floor stairwell, pistol raised.

“Civvie’s armed,” Gaz noted.

“No,” Price muttered, heart thundering. “That’s no civvie.”

He stepped forward, and Leah turned at the sound.

Her gun was up in a second. Then her breath caught.

“John?”

The world seemed to freeze. Fire alarms blared in the background. Glass shattered somewhere far away. But all Price could see was her—bloodied, bruised, still beautiful and alive.

“I thought you were done with this life,” he said hoarsely.

She holstered her weapon slowly. “I was. But they didn’t get the memo.”

“You look good,” he murmured.

She scoffed. “I look like hell.”

Soap, peeking in, whispered to Gaz, “Bloody hell. She’s got balls.”

Ghost snorted. “And she’s better with a sidearm.”

Leah eyed the men warily. “Your new crew?”

“They don’t know about you.”

“Clearly,” she said with a smirk. “Nice to meet you, boys. Thanks for the assist.”

“You had all the fun to yourself, we just got the ones you missed.” Gaz said, wiping the sweat that coated his forehead.

“No surprise there,” Price said dryly, stepping toward her. “We’re getting you out. You’re coming with us.”

“No,” she said firmly. “Not until I know who sent them, they came for me.”

🪖🖤🪖🖤 🪖🖤🪖🖤 🪖🖤🪖🖤 🪖🖤🪖🖤 🪖🖤

Note: thanks for reading everyone. This is my first ever work for COD MW, let me know your thoughts as well as if you’d like to be tagged in future posts to follow Leah and John’s story.

#call of duty #modern warfare #john price x oc #john price x reader #simon riley cod #john mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price

123 notes · View notes

03jyh23 · 10 months ago

Text

🖤⌇ thuggish charm chapter one bandit(?)!; a jung wooyoung mini-series

badboy(?) wooyoung x fem!reader

│ series masterlist│ next │

│synopsis: the one where you miss your train and meet a charming... bandit?

│genre: romance

│trigger warnings: none?

│words: 4.5 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

│taglist: if you wish to join let me know here

— hi there, my lovely people! honestly, i have no idea what this is 😭. i got inspired by a song from one of the rappers in my country and just went with it. and now i'm just wondering if i should do something more with this story or just leave it be?

love, mon ♡

A cold evening breeze tousled your hair, plastering strands to your face. A heavy bag hung from your shoulder, filled with items that couldn't fit into the large suitcase standing beside you, your hand gripping its handle tightly. The thing was, you didn't make it to your transfer train. Despite your friends' warnings, you insisted you could grab a much-needed iced coffee in the 10 minutes before your train left. You were wrong.

The platform was dark, with only two solitary lamps casting a dim light. You cursed yourself under your breath, but there wasn't much you could do now. You'd already waited for an hour; you could've managed another before the next train arrived. You glanced at your phone, sighing heavily—it was running out of battery. It was frustrating. You'd have to wait two hours just to take a train for a little over forty minutes to reach your hometown. But you were the only one to blame. Well, at least you had your coffee and a blueberry muffin. But it wasn’t worth it, not at all. You shivered, pulling your jacket tighter around you. You glanced at the large clock hanging from the information board, hoping the minutes would pass more quickly. Of course, they didn't.

After an frustratingly long time you finally heard the train approaching, its rumble growing louder as it neared the station. You felt a mix of relief and anticipation wash over you. Finally, you'd be on your way. As the train's headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the platform, you gathered your belongings and prepared to board, eager to put this frustrating delay behind you.

The car you boarded was empty, so you sat down at the very end, near the window. You placed your luggage in the designated area and quickly plugged in your phone to charge as much as possible for the remaining journey.

As the train pulled into the next station, the platform gradually came into view, bathed in the harsh glow of fluorescent lights that cast long shadows across the concrete. The stark illumination revealed an almost deserted space, save for a group of eight young men clustered near the far end. Their presence immediately caught your attention, starkly contrasting the emptiness surrounding them. Each member of the group was clad entirely in black, their dark attire blending into the night behind them. As your eyes adjusted to the scene, you noticed intricate tattoos adorning their bodies and faces - some subtle, others bold and striking. Three of them were casually smoking cigarettes, the wisps of smoke curling upwards into the night air. As you observed them, one of the smokers suddenly locked eyes with you. His gaze was intense and unwavering, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Without breaking eye contact, he deliberately tossed his half-finished cigarette into a nearby bin. The action, while seemingly casual, felt loaded with meaning. Your heart plummeted, a mix of anxiety and unease settling in your stomach. The weight of his stare was palpable, even from this distance. Instinctively, you turned your head away, breaking the uncomfortable connection. Your mind raced with possibilities, none of them comforting. As the train doors hissed open, you found yourself fervently hoping that none of the group would decide to board. The thought of sharing this confined space with them filled you with a sense of apprehension that you couldn't quite shake off.

"Wooyoung-ah, just get there and get it done with, yeah?" the unexpected gentleness in the voice you’ve just heard had caught you off guard. You grabbed your phone to busy yourself with, fingers trembling slightly as you unlocked it, trying to appear nonchalant.

As you glanced up from your phone, you saw one of the young men from the group stepping onto the train. His movements were fluid and graceful, belying his intimidating appearance. The tattoos on his face seemed to dance in the flickering light of the train car. "I'll be fine, Joong. See y'all next week, yeah?" the boy called out, waving to his companions just before the train doors closed with a loud beep. Your heart rate quickened as you realized he must be Wooyoung, the one addressed earlier. His hair was black, neck-length, with a fringe styled neatly—only a few strands falling onto his forehead. You noticed a bandage right above his eyebrow, the skin around it purple with bruises. He wasn't tall, but the chunky boots and large leather jacket made him appear more imposing. The tattoos adorning his face seemed to shift and dance in the dim light of the train, adding an air of mystery to his already intimidating presence. His dark eyes scanned the train car, eventually settling on you. For a moment, your gazes locked, and you felt a mix of fear and inexplicable curiosity wash over you.

Wooyoung chose a seat a few rows ahead of you, close enough that you could observe him without being too obvious. As he settled in, you couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders relaxed slightly, as if he was shedding some of the intensity he had displayed on the platform. The train lurched forward, and you found yourself stealing glances at him, trying to reconcile the intimidating figure you'd seen on the platform with the young man now sitting quietly a few rows ahead. His presence seemed to fill the car, even in silence. Your eyes were drawn to the intricate tattoos adorning his face. The one beneath his left eye caught your attention - at first glance, it looked like the number 26, but as you studied it more closely, you realized it might be something else entirely. Your gaze drifted to his temple, where a small, delicate butterfly tattoo rested, a surprising contrast to his otherwise intimidating appearance. You tried to read the lettering above his eyebrow when he caught your eyes again. You raised your eyebrows and looked away, feeling a shudder run through your body. The intensity of his gaze was unsettling, a mix of curiosity and something you couldn't quite place. Your heart raced as you pretended to be engrossed in your phone, all too aware of his presence just a few rows ahead.

The train's rhythmic movement did little to calm your nerves as you found yourself stealing quick glances at Wooyoung again, hoping he wouldn't notice. The tattoo above his eyebrow remained a mystery, its meaning just out of reach.

Suddenly, his voice broke the silence, startling you out of your thoughts. "You know, it's not polite to stare," he said, his tone filled with amusement. His eyes met yours again, this time with a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You felt your face flush with embarrassment, caught red-handed in your observation. "I... I'm sorry," you stammered, unsure of how to respond to his unexpected address.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, turning to face you more directly. "Curious about the ink?" he asked, gesturing to the tattoos on his face. "Most people are. They either can't look away or can't bear to look at all." His words carried a weight that suggested he was used to both reactions. You felt your words frozen in your throat, unable to form a coherent response. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze and the unexpected interaction left you speechless. You simply averted your eyes, focusing intently on your hands clasped tightly in your lap. You heard him chuckling softly, a sound that was both melodious and slightly unnerving. "Not much of a talker, huh?" he mused, his eyes still fixed on you. You dared to look up again, the warmth in his expression caught you off guard, softening his intimidating appearance. It was a stark contrast to the intense gaze you had encountered earlier. For a moment, you found yourself relaxing slightly, the tension in your shoulders easing just a fraction. "Are you afraid of me?" Wooyoung asked, sensing your hesitation. His voice was softer than you expected. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications.

You hesitated, weighing your words carefully. The initial fear you felt was still there, but it had been tempered by curiosity and the unexpected warmth in his smile. "I... I'm not sure," you admitted honestly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "That's fair," he said, his voice sultry. "But I promise, I'm much more... fun than I look." He winked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Want to find out just how deceiving appearances can be?" His gaze locked with yours, intense and inviting, daring you to look beyond his intimidating exterior.

You blinked continuously, taken aback by his bold proposition. "E-excuse me?" you managed to stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. The sudden shift in the conversation left you flustered, unsure of how to respond to unexpected flirtation.

Wooyoung rose from his seat, his movements fluid and deliberate. As he approached, you found yourself captivated by his presence. He stood before you, and for the first time, you truly noticed the intricate details of his face. His nose and lip piercings glinted in the dim light of the train car, adding to his allure. You were struck by how handsome he was up close, his features a perfect blend of sharp angles and soft curves. Looking up at him, you felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Wooyoung's eyes met yours, a hint of amusement dancing in their depths. "May I?" he asked, his voice low and smooth as he gestured towards the seat next to you. The question hung in the air, loaded with possibilities. Your heart raced as you considered your options. The intensity of Wooyoung's gaze made you feel both thrilled and uneasy. After a moment's hesitation, you nodded slightly, your curiosity overcoming your apprehension. As he settled into the seat beside you, his presence both intimidating and oddly comforting, you couldn't help but wonder what you were getting yourself into.

"My name's Wooyoung," he says, his eyes roaming your features. "And I'd hate to scare off such a beautiful girl, so answer me... are you really afraid of me? Or is it just my killer looks that's got your tongue?" You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck as Wooyoung's words washed over you. His proximity was intoxicating, the scent of leather and something distinctly masculine filling your senses. You struggled to find your voice, caught between the intimidating aura he exuded and the undeniable attraction you felt.

"I... I'm not afraid," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just... surprised." You met his gaze, finding yourself drawn into the depth of his dark eyes.

Wooyoung's pierced lips curved into a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Surprised? By what? My charming personality or my devilishly good looks?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone that sent shivers down your spine.

You couldn't help but let out a nervous laugh, some of the tension dissipating. "Maybe a bit of both," you admitted, surprising yourself with your boldness.

His smirk widened into a genuine smile, transforming his face. "I like your honesty," he said, his eyes never leaving yours. "So, beautiful, since we've established you're not afraid of me, how about we make this train ride a little more... interesting?" You crossed your arms and leaned back against the window, trying to put some distance between yourself and Wooyoung. His sudden closeness and bold proposition had caught you off guard, and you needed a moment to gather your thoughts.

"Are you going to shout 'A bandit! Help!' and run away now?" he joked, but you couldn't quite shake off the feeling he'd been in this situation before. Despite his joking tone, there was an undercurrent of familiarity in his words. Gathering your courage, you decided to address the elephant in the room.

"Do people usually call you a bandit?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

Wooyoung's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something—perhaps surprise or appreciation—crossing his features. He leaned back, creating a bit more space between you, and let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, straight to the point, aren't you?" he said, his tone a blend of amusement and something more serious. "Let's just say I've heard it enough times to make jokes about it. But appearances can be deceiving, you know?" His eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a vulnerability there that contradicted his tough exterior. "What do you think? Am I living up to the 'thug' stereotype?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of challenge.

Finally, you took a deep breath and met his eyes directly. The intensity of his gaze made you feel both nervous and intrigued. "Honestly?" you asked with hesitation, weighing your next words carefully.

"No, please lie to me!" Wooyoung joked, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of chewing gum. With a swift motion, he popped one into his mouth, the minty scent wafting between you. You couldn't help but smile at his playful response, feeling some of the tension dissipate. The casual act of chewing gum somehow made him seem more approachable, and less intimidating than before.

Taking another deep breath, you decided to answer honestly. "At first glance, maybe. The tattoos, the piercings, the whole vibe... it's intimidating," you admitted, watching his reaction carefully. "But talking to you now? You seem more... complex than that. There's more to you than meets the eye, isn't there?" You surprised yourself with your boldness, but something about Wooyoung made you want to dig deeper, to understand the person behind the intimidating facade.

Wooyoung smirked, raising one of his eyebrows as he popped a bubble with the gum. "Are you a psychiatrist in the making?" he teased. You wanted to brush off his little comment, but he didn't give you time to answer. "'I'm no bandit, first I've heard of it,'" he said, putting his hands up as if he were surrendering. "You'd be shocked at how many times I've had to say that." His words carried a hint of frustration beneath the playful tone, and you found yourself wondering about the experiences that led him to make such a statement. Wooyoung leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "the ladies think I kill, but at home, I walk in pink slippers." He paused, letting the image sink in before continuing, "And all the grannies yell when I step out on the street." His gaze locked with yours, a mix of amusement and challenge in his expression. You couldn't help but laugh at the contrast he painted. The image of this intimidating figure in pink slippers was both absurd and oddly endearing.

"What else do you do at home?" you tease, finally relaxing into your seat, smiling warmly at the boy.

"Isn't that a very personal question?" he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, mirroring his playful expression. "Well, you did invite me to make this train ride more interesting," you countered, your confidence growing with each exchange. "Besides, I'm curious about the man behind the tattoos and pink slippers." Your eyes met his, a silent challenge in your gaze, daring him to reveal more about himself.

"As for the tattoos, I just fucking like them, that's all," Wooyoung said with a shrug. His nonchalant attitude towards his tattoos made you wonder about the stories behind each one.

You found yourself drawn to the intricate designs adorning his skin, each one likely holding a unique significance. "Do any of them have special meanings?" you asked, your curiosity piqued. Wooyoung's eyes lit up at your question, a mix of surprise and appreciation crossing his features.

"I'll save the answer to that for a second date," Wooyoung said with a wink. He nonchalantly popped another gum balloon before spitting it into the small trash bin.

You laughed softly, feeling a mix of intrigue and amusement at his flirtatious response. "A second date? Aren't we getting a bit ahead of ourselves?" you teased back, your eyes meeting his with a playful challenge. The easy banter between you two was unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Wooyoung leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. "Well, I consider this our first date, ever since you agreed for me to sit here," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. The boldness of his statement caught you off guard, sending a flutter through your stomach.

You felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "Oh really?" you replied, trying to match his confidence. "And here I thought first dates usually involved dinner or a movie, not a chance encounter on a train."

Wooyoung's grin widened, "Who says we can't be unconventional?" he countered, his gaze never leaving yours. "But if you want all of that," he continued, his voice taking on a playful, almost challenging tone, "then it's my pleasure to take you on such a... boring date without anything extraordinary to it." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in slightly closer. "Though I have to warn you, even my idea of 'ordinary' might surprise you."

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. "Who says I'd even agree to go out with you in the first place?" you challenged, your tone playful but with a hint of seriousness. "You're making quite a few assumptions there, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung's eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting your response. He leaned back, a mix of surprise and admiration crossing his features. After a moment, he let out a low chuckle. "Touché," he said, his voice tinged with respect. "I guess I got a bit ahead of myself there. My apologies." He paused, his gaze softening. "But can you blame a guy for trying? You're not exactly easy to resist."

You felt a flutter in your stomach at his words, but you maintained your composure. "Flattery will get you nowhere," you said, though you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at your lips. "But I appreciate the apology. Maybe we should start with getting to know each other a bit better before planning any dates, hmm?"

Wooyoung's eyes lit up with amusement at your suggestion. "Why waste time if we can get to know each other on the date?" he countered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "After all, isn't that what dates are for?"

You couldn't help but laugh at his persistence. "You don't even know my name," you pointed out, shaking your head in amusement at his bold flirtation.

Wooyoung's grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "I don't need that to know you're the most beautiful woman I've seen," he said, his gaze never leaving yours. You felt a rush of heat creep up your neck at his words, caught between flattery and disbelief at his audacity. Despite yourself, you couldn't help but be charmed by his confidence and smooth talking.

You decided to play along with his flirtatious banter, feeling a mix of amusement and excitement. With a coy smile, you leaned in slightly and said, "I hope my beauty isn't too distracting. We wouldn't want you to miss your stop, would we?"

Wooyoung's eyes widened for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow, appreciative grin spread across his face. "Oh, darling," he drawled, his voice low and rich, "I'd gladly miss a hundred stops if it meant spending more time with you."

You couldn't help but giggle, turning your face away in embarrassment, not able to continue with the banter. You felt a warmth spreading through your chest, a mix of embarrassment and excitement at the intensity of Wooyoung's flirtation. As you turned back to face him, you caught a glimpse of something softer in his eyes, a vulnerability that seemed at odds with his bold exterior. For a moment, you allowed yourself to be caught in his gaze, feeling a strange mix of excitement and uncertainty. As the silence stretched between you, you noticed how Wooyoung started playing with his lip ring, his fingers absently toying with the small metal hoop. His eyes, which had been locked with yours, briefly dropped to your lips before meeting your gaze again. The gesture was subtle, but unmistakable, sending a small thrill through you. You found yourself wondering how that lip ring would feel against your own lips, the thought was both thrilling and intimidating. It sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards Wooyoung, his bold confidence and mysterious aura drawing you in. Your eyes flickered to his lips, lingering on the silver ring that adorned them. You found yourself wondering what it would be like to kiss him, to feel the cool metal against your skin. Catching yourself, you quickly averted your gaze, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. But the image remained, tantalizing and forbidden, at the edges of your mind. You tried to push the thought away, but it persisted, a silent acknowledgment of your growing desire.

Wooyoung's whispered words sent a shiver down your spine. "If there's something you want to do, you should act upon it," he murmured, leaning in closer. His head tilted slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze made your breath catch in your throat. You felt a magnetic pull towards him, your heart racing as the space between you diminished. The air seemed to crackle with tension, and you found yourself drawn to his lips, that tantalizing lip ring catching the dim light of the train. Time seemed to slow as you hovered on the precipice of decision. Should you give in to the desire that had been building since this chance encounter began? Or was this moving too fast, too soon?

Wooyoung smiled lightly, his face so close you could feel his breath on your skin. The proximity made the lump in your throat grow, your heart racing with anticipation. His voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper as he asked, "Is it alright for me to touch you?" The question hung in the air between you, charged with tension and unspoken desire. You found yourself at a crossroads, torn between the thrill of the moment and the rational part of your mind reminding you that you'd just met. Your body seemed to lean towards him of its own accord, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism. You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. But it wasn't enough for Wooyoung. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours as he whispered, "I need to hear you actually say it." His voice was low, almost husky, sending a shiver down your spine. The anticipation hung thick in the air between you, every second stretching out like an eternity.

You swallowed hard, finding your voice. "Yes," you breathed, barely audible even in the quiet of the train car. "You can touch me." The words left your lips, a mix of nervousness and excitement coloring your tone. Wooyoung's eyes lit up, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned in even closer. Wooyoung's hand moved to your jaw, his touch gentle yet electrifying. His fingers caressed your cheek, the warmth of his skin sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, deliberately, he ran his thumb over your lower lip, the sensation causing you to tremble involuntarily. Your breath hitched, caught between anticipation and nervousness as you felt the intensity of his touch and gaze.

You closed your eyes, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your heart raced as you whispered, "You can kiss me now." The words hung in the air, charged with anticipation. You waited, breath held, for him to make his move. Wooyoung's breath hitched audibly, a soft exhale that you felt against your skin. There was a moment of stillness, the world seeming to pause around you. Then, with agonizing slowness, you felt him lean in. His lips brushed against yours, feather-light at first, testing. The cool metal of his lip ring sent a jolt through you, contrasting with the warmth of his mouth.

As if emboldened by your response, Wooyoung deepened the kiss. His hand cupped your face more firmly, fingers tangling in your hair. The kiss was a perfect blend of gentle and passionate, leaving you breathless. You could taste the hint of his earlier gum, with a hint of cigarettes. Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment, all thoughts of the train and your surroundings fading away.

Suddenly, a jolt from the train brought you both back to reality. You pulled away slightly, your cheeks flushed and your breath coming in short gasps. Wooyoung's eyes were dark with desire as he gazed at you, a small smile playing on his lips. The moment hung between you, charged with the thrill of newfound connection.

You looked out the window, suddenly realizing with a jolt that you recognized the station passing by. "It's my stop!" you shouted, jumping to your feet in a panic. You quickly unplugged your phone, then grabbed your suitcase and bag, heart racing as you rushed towards the doors.

Wooyoung's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by your sudden movement. "Wait—" he started to say, but you were already halfway down the aisle.

As you reached the doors, you turned back briefly, catching a glimpse of Wooyoung's bewildered expression. A mix of regret and excitement coursed through you as the train began to slow. The doors opened with a hiss, and you stepped out onto the platform, your mind reeling from the whirlwind encounter you'd just experienced. You stood there, catching your breath as the train doors closed behind you. Your heart was still racing, not just from the rush to exit, but from the intense encounter you'd just experienced. As you watched the train pull away, you couldn't help but wonder if you'd ever see Wooyoung again, or if this magical moment would remain just that—a fleeting connection in the night.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

#wooyoung x reader #ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez x y/n #ateez au #ateez x you #jung wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung oneshot #wooyoung fanfic #ateez #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x you #ateez wooyoung

197 notes · View notes

thevoicefromanotherworld · 4 months ago

Text

"YOU LIKE WHAT YOU SEE, LOVE?"

I wrote another fic with Tangerine ☝😩🖤

I hope you like it!

WARNING: EXPLICIT SMUT UNDER THE CUT

You had just gotten off work, and like every day, you headed to your favorite bar for a drink.

You sat at the bar as usual and ordered something ice cold with two ice cubes. It was insanely hot, so the ice would come in handy to cool you off.

The bartender quickly brought you your drink, and you promptly paid him back, adding a small tip for his kindness.

You turned around to take in the atmosphere. It wasn't too crowded since it was a workday evening, so the space was occupied by several people who, like you, had come there in small groups to relax a little after a day's work.

Then the door opened, and when you glimpsed a pair of dark blue pants, you almost choked on the contents of your drink.

There was no way the coworker you hated and with whom you spent most of your time arguing had chosen that exact place to hang out.

You turned around, staring at the colorful bottles in the display case behind the bartender, praying he hadn't seen you.

You didn't feel like putting up with him at that moment, YOUR moment of relaxation.

The moment you felt him approach you, you knew he'd seen you staring, and that your evening was about to get exponentially worse because of his presence.

"Hi," he greeted with a stupid little grin, pointing at the empty stool next to you. "Is it taken?"

"Yes," you lied. He raised his eyebrows.

"Yes? By whom?" " he questioned, and when you didn't respond, he sat down and ordered a whiskey from the waiter, who quickly brought it to him. "I thought so," he murmured, taking a sip of his drink before fixing his gaze on you. "I didn't expect to find you here, princess," he whispered. "I thought you'd be tucked up in bed with your kitten socks by now." He laughed.

"Very funny," you snorted, draining your drink before gesturing to the waiter to get you another one. "I was just enjoying a wonderful moment of peace and quiet by myself, so I'd like you to leave, if you please."

"Oh, come on, I just got here," he complained sarcastically. "Besides, picking on you is entertaining and fun," he smiled. "So I think I'll stay a bit longer," he declared. "Besides, I don't have anywhere else to be right now. What are you doing here?" "He asked, 'Of all the places you could be, you're here drinking alone,' he observed carefully. 'I thought girls like you didn't come to places like this.'

"It's a good bar."

"That's why I'm confused," he laughed, taking another sip of his drink.

"Fuck you," you growled under your breath, making him only laugh more.

"Oh baby, I know you'd love me to do that," he said, smug. "I'm currently booked, so we can set up a day and… you know…"

"You're an asshole. You know that?" You complained, looking away.

"Hey!" He placed his ringed hand over his heart theatrically. "What kind of way is this to treat someone who just bought you a drink?"

Your eyes widened when you realized the bartender had poured you a new drink, but you hadn't paid for it. You tilted your head at him.

"Did you pay for my drink?"

"I paid for your drink," he stated. "It's what a gentleman would do, and regardless of what you think of me, that's what I am," he defended himself. "Come on, drink."

"Did you put something in it?" you questioned. He blinked a couple of times, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Of course not!" he complained. "What kind of man do you think I am?"

"Easy, an asshole," you responded quickly.

"An asshole," he clicked his tongue before giving an amused smile. "You're charming," he murmured. "Fuck, I just wanted to be nice to you." He tilted his head. "So drink your drink, please, and tell me the real reason you're here alone tonight," he requested. "Did you come here to try and forget your problems with alcohol? Is that it?" He paused. "No, wait, I already know. They rejected you again, didn't they?" "He questioned, shaking his head. "Don't look at me like that, princess," he said. "We've known each other for quite some time. There's no point in trying to lie to me, because I'll know."

"You're one of my problems," you blurted out. He raised an eyebrow, halfway between surprised and curious.

"Oh really?" He questioned, moving a little closer to you so that your knees were touching. "Why?"

"You… are… me…" You tilted your head in bewilderment, as you gathered your thoughts. "I hate you."

"You should stop doing that."

"What?"

- Lying – he whispered – you're really bad at it – he explained – you don't hate me – he continued – in fact, I think what you feel has nothing to do with it – he whispered, boring into yours with his expressive blue eyes – the line between love and hate is very thin, darling – he said –

-I don't know what you think is going on here, but whatever it is, you're wrong – you slung your bag over your shoulder and took a last sip of your drink – thanks for the drink

You heard him swear under his breath as you stepped out onto the street. You heard him come up behind you.

"Wait, Y/N, please!" he said. "I just want to talk."

You turned to face him.

"Don't you think you've said enough?" you questioned. "You can't just say that kind of thing and expect me not to run away." You shook your head. "God, this is too much," you complained. "I don't know how I ended up here with you. I was just supposed to have a drink before going home…"

"And instead, here we are," he said, staring at you. "Explain to me why you left," he murmured gently. "I can't understand if you don't explain it to me"

"I ran away like a coward because I'd rather run the New York City Marathon four times in a row than admit I'm in love with you!" "You yelled," you blurted out.

The street went so silent it seemed life had stopped. The only movement was your heart beating fast in your chest.

"What did you say?" he asked softly. "Repeat that."

"You heard it, I'm not going to…"

"Repeat that," he asked again, "please."

You took a deep, sharp breath before answering.

"I'm in love with you."

(I MADE THIS NEW DIVIDER TOO, IS SO CUTE OML I LOVE IT SM)

"That's not possible, you…" he muttered. "I thought you hated me, I truly did."

"I'm a very good actress," you replied before putting your hands to your head. "Forget it, you can go now," you murmured. "I'll go home and pretend this conversation never happened."

In a couple of strides, he reached you and grabbed your hand with equal parts strength and gentleness, pulling you toward a dimly lit alley.

His blue gaze bore into yours as he leaned you against the wall, saying:

"You're not going anywhere," he said, before leaning in to kiss you.

His lips covered yours with a need and hunger you'd never experienced before. You felt like he was the last man on earth and you were his last meal.

He placed his hands on your hips, pushing you against the alley wall as he kissed your neck and you tangled your fingers in his hair.

"Tangerine… please…" you gasped when he left a mark on your collarbone.

"Shhh, baby," he placed his index finger on your lips before giving you a lopsided smile. "I'll give you what you need," he promised, "but this isn't the best place for it." He looked both ways. "You deserve better than doing it in a seedy alley." He took your hand in his. You observed the size of your hands together for a moment before he pulled you to walk beside him.

Forty-five minutes later, Tangerine had you pinned against the mattress of his apartment bed, his kisses edging dangerously close to your lower abdomen.

By the time you got to his apartment, it hadn't taken him long to undress you.

His blue eyes watched closely the expressions that crossed your face with every kiss he gave you, every caress, and every word he offered.

Then he moved his hands to his own clothes and began undoing the buttons on his sky-blue shirt.

You couldn't describe the sight before you even if you wanted to. Tangerine wore a gold chain around his neck, resting it against his firm chest.

An amused smile touched his lips as he watched you scrutinize him intently.

"Do you like what you see, love?" he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"God, you're insufferable," you huffed, looking away, suddenly shy. "I hate you."

He held your chin between his index finger and thumb, causing you to look directly at him again. His blue eyes shone intensely as he said, "I thought we were past that, princess," he whispered, meeting your gaze.

You clicked your tongue tiredly before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him towards you.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

"Okay," he whispered. "Where did we leave off before?" –he questioned more to himself than to you- ah yes, your neck- he murmured, leaving small kisses on it that made you shudder from head to toe- you're perfect- he growled, descending your body to the place between your legs- tell me you want it, love- he whispered, kissing the inside of your thighs- just – kiss – two – another kiss – simple – another kiss – words- he asked- two words and I'll be worshipping your pussy all night long

"Please…" you moaned, making him smile-

"Good girl," he whispered, placing his tongue against your lips-

He tugged them between his teeth before kissing your clit. You held onto his hair, while you panted and thrust your hips against his face, seeking the release you were already beginning to feel in your lower belly.

"You needed this, didn't you?" –he inquired- tell me how much you needed it

-So much… I don't know… it's so… you're…- you moaned- Tangerine! –you squealed when he tugged on your clit once more- please… I need- you whimpered-

-I feel you pressing against my tongue- he growled- do it baby, cum for me. I want to feel you cum against my tongue

A sniff escaped your lips as you did just that. You slowly caught your breath, as he wiped the remnants of you from the corner of his lips with his tongue.

"I need to be inside you," he whispered. "I think I'll explode if not…"

"I need you inside me too," you murmured, making his eyes blaze brightly.

"Fuck, you're going to kill me, baby," he growled, grabbing your hips to pull you closer to him. "Come here."

Within minutes, you were both a mess of moans and gasps as you moved against each other.

He filled you in ways you could never explain, and he felt like this was where he was meant to be, inside you, filling you like no one else had.

"Take it all from me," he panted. "Move those gorgeous hips of yours, baby," he groaned when you did just that, slowly making him lose his mind. "Fuck, I'm going to cum, fuck."

"Me too," you panted, holding onto his back. "Please, Tangerine…" you whispered. "Please make me cum… you…" you moaned. "I need you."

"You have me, gorgeous," he murmured, staring into yours. "You've always had me."

You both came at the same time.

Tangerine's blue eyes watched you for a few moments, checking you were okay before pulling away. An amused smile touched his lips as he lay down on the bed beside you.

"I'd think you'd hate me after this," he said sarcastically.

"Shut up," you said, punching him in the arm with a friendly smack before snuggling up to him.

#aaron taylor johnson #byvoice #my story #writters on tumblr #writterscommunity #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #bullet train #tangerine #enemies to lovers

77 notes · View notes

greenwitchfromthewoods · 6 months ago

Text

nymph. [part 5] l General Marcus Acacius

Summary: you have been with him for a long time, but he has never seen you. but everything has changed.

Warnings: angst, fluff, memories of death and arena fights, old romance, lots of sadness, some tears, gods and mythology are treated in a simple way

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter. I've hidden something there… something that happened a while ago and came back to them. I'm curious… I'd like to know what you think of this series. or anything I write. My inner critic probably does too well. But I'll leave you with this and thank you for your time.

I hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph [masterlist]

It was another hot day and even though you were in the shade, you could feel the heat pouring off the sand in the arena. You had never seen a place like this before. It was massive, raised above the rooftops, as if it was shouting to everyone "I will be here for eternity while you turn to dust".

Marcus was strangely quiet and nervous that day, you could see it in his gaze and how close he was to you. Brutus and Aurelia, as they had promised, showed up at the coliseum with you, but it didn't help.

The crowd around you, the greetings from the other guests and the place itself, General Acacius was restless and would have given anything to be able to take you away from there.

But your eyes, like the eyes of a child, absorbed it all, absorbed his world.

"Marcus! How good to see you!" a cheerful and resonant voice reached your ears as well.

"Lucilla." Marcus nodded as the woman smiled fondly at him. "I’m glad to see you in good health."

She was beautiful. Golden hair fell in waves down her back, a robe draped around her shapely body, and precious stones and gold sparkled on her hands and neck.

Lucilla was beautiful and she definitely knew it. How else could you explain the spell she cast over the people gathered in this place.

She gave him a smile. "I was glad to hear in what glory you returned to Rome. Why haven't you visited me yet? It's not nice to keep old friends waiting."

"I had my duties."

"Duties?" she repeated, and her gaze wandered to you. You didn't look in her direction, but you could clearly feel her searching gaze on you. "Is this your new..."

Your name left his lips like the words of a prayer, Lucilla immediately felt it. Despite everything, the smile didn't leave her lips.

"I'm glad to see you're happy, Marcus." she said, her hand tenderly squeezing his arm. "If she gives you this happiness..."

"She gives me more than I dare to ask for."

The woman nodded. After a short moment, she withdrew to her seat, but you still had the impression that her eyes hadn't left you and Marcus.

"Everything’s good? Come on, let's take our seats."

You sat down at the back and after a moment you saw Emperor Geta and his brother appear in the box. All the majesty and splendor of their personas was overwhelming, but you had the impression that the people around them seemed to stiffen and began to weigh their words more carefully.

However, you didn’t have time to look at them more closely. The fights had begun.

Marcus felt ashamed and embarrassed. When he saw the expression on your face, his heart stopped for a moment. He wanted to take you away from there, to erase from your memory what you had seen, what you had heard...

Your fingers tightened on the ornate armrests of the chair and you slightly leaned forward as your widened eyes watched the bloodshed in the arena with horror.

"My dear..." he whispered in your ear, but only a sigh escaped from between your parted lips.

He took your hand and kissed it, but that didn't help either. Your fingers were ice cold. Gods, Marcus regretted ever letting you see all this!

The conversations and laughter of his companions reached him as if from behind a curtain. All his attention was focused on you and only his alertness allowed him to react appropriately when any words were directed at him.

Let this all be over! Please...

Brutus and Aurelia took you back home, Marcus's duties forced him to stay. You barely spoke to him or his friends, still dazed by what you saw.

"Take care of her." Brutus ordered Melitta when she appeared to welcome you home.

You were barely able to understand her words, although she spoke to you calmly and with concern.

"Where is she? Melitta!" his loud voice echoed through the darkened corridor.

The girl quickly approached him, leaned around the corner, and bowed quickly.

"My lord." she said "I tried my best, but she..."

"What about her?" Acacius growled, approaching her "Speak, girl, if you value your life!"

She raised her head, looking at him pleadingly "I prepared her a bath to ease her nerves. She's still there..."

"How long?" he frowned.

"Since she came home."

"It's been a few hours!"

He pushed Melitta aside and went inside. The stuffiness and the smell of incense immediately filled his nostrils. You were there, sitting on the edge with your feet immersed in the water. The maid had to cover your shoulders with a robe. But what frightened Marcus was your gaze. Glassy eyes stared into space, you looked like a sculpture.

"My love." he said quickly approaching you, he touched your cheek, directing your gaze to him "I'm so sorry."

"Marcus..."

He saw the tears running down your cheeks, your trembling lips, the crease between your brows. He had never felt so helpless before.

"I'm sorry you had to see this. I have no words to justify myself, but please... Just say something."

"I don't understand this, Marcus." Your whisper was barely audible. "I've seen the wrath of the gods, I've seen the battlefields, but this... Just to please a handful of people? Do you all despise your lives so much?"

"I have nothing to defend what you saw."

"How could you defend it? There were ordinary people there too..."

"Thieves and bandits. Slaves."

"People." You took a deep breath. "So who am I, Marcus? What am I? I feel like I'm floating between worlds, not belonging to any of them... I saw the delight on the faces of some, and the terror in the eyes of the dying. Where am I in all of this?"

Warm, large hands cupped your face. Gentle brown eyes looked at you with fear, but also with love and care.

"You're here with me. That's what matters." He said. "Our life is beyond all of this. I'll take you away from here, somewhere where you'll feel free, safe... You belong to me, and I belong to you. That's all that matters."

He saw the shadow of a smile on your chapped lips and couldn't help but taste them. They were salty from tears, but still soft and comforting.

"Come on, love. Let me take you to bed."

With incredible ease he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bedroom. You were so fragile in his arms, when he placed you on the bed he was still surprised that you were real. It was late, the house was silent and the room was filled with the sweet scent.

You watched as Marcus removed the gold bracelets from his wrists and then his toga, which he placed on a nearby chair. The glow of the candles danced on his wide back.

"Lucilla."

Your quiet voice caught his attention as he poured himself some water from the jug on the table. He turned around, you were sitting on your heels and staring at him. Your face was so soft in the light.

"I saw how she looked at you." you continued calmly. "Something connected you. Feelings, right? Strong ones."

Acacius nodded.

"What happened?"

He cleared his throat and took a few steps, his thoughts returning to those times, the times of his youth.

"It was years ago..." he began "I was a young soldier, gaining experience. She was lonely. Like me."

"She's beautiful."

"Not like you." you smiled slightly and continued "Our paths crossed."

"Did you love her?"

Marcus sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands, which suddenly seemed colossal, rough. Inappropriate for you. However, your presence next to him was so soothing, he closed his eyes.

"I thought so." he replied "I thought it was love. But everything changed suddenly."

Your hand rested on his shoulder "How so?"

"I don't know. I was away from Rome for a while. When I came back, when I met her again and kissed her, I felt like I was betraying someone. It sounds crazy, but it was true. The shadow of an unknown person, someone I had lost and didn't even know, hung between us. I couldn't... Lucilla sensed it, she didn't ask questions. I devoted myself to the army, to Rome." He looked at you, a faint smile playing on his plush lips. When you stroked his cheek, Marcus sighed quietly.

"I've never told anyone about it. Is it possible to suddenly wake up one day and feel like something's been lost? Because that's how I felt. I didn't know what it was, but I felt like someone had cut out a piece of me. No one could fill it. And then, years later, you appeared... You were there like the wind, like a breeze or a warm gust." his lips brushed your wrist, you rested your forehead against his and closed your eyes. “I felt you before I saw you. And once I saw your face, gods, it was like I woke up from a long sleep.”

For almost four days, General Acacius's house had been just you, Melitta, Antigonus, and the rest of the servants. His duties had forced him to report to the barracks, and this time he couldn't find an excuse.

It was your first separation in a long time, and although you missed him, every day surprised you with something. Like when Antigonus said you could accompany Melitta to the market. Or when you went to the nearby temple together.

Aurelia and Brutus, Marcus's friends, also visited you, but seeing that they had torn you away from sitting among the maps and notes you were so passionately devouring, they decided that nothing would threaten you. So if it weren't for Antigonus' complaints, you would probably have moved the bedding there.

You felt it again.

You didn't tell Marcus about it, but you waited for the familiar scent to fill the bedroom again. Maybe you were wrong? Maybe it was all just a vivid dream?

But when you stood by the open window to the garden, you heard the quiet words of prayer, you knew you were right. The grass was soft under your bare feet, and the pleasantly cool wind brought relief after the hot day. You walked quietly so as not to scare anyone away.

And when you stopped behind the rose bush, you saw her.

Melitta was kneeling in front of burning candles, with incense made of herbs and flowers that gave off a scent so familiar to you. Her quiet voice mixed with the rustle of leaves and cicadas.

You didn't want to interrupt her prayers, it wasn't right. But you listened to the words and with each subsequent one you felt as if your heart was sinking.

These were not ordinary prayers. Regret, sadness, a plea for forgiveness, a promise to improve... All these words were accompanied by Melitta's silent sobs, carried through the night to the stars along with the smoke of her incense.

And then you understood.

She was just like you.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

@ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal @missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing @mynameisbaby9 @94namkooksworld @bbyanarchist @picketniffler @tranquilty @psyched2b @jeewrites @tuquoquebrute @aotfantasmagorias @mynameismothra @kluvspedro @fefa-la-printcessa

#pedro pascal #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #general acacius #general marcus acacius x reader #nymph series #gladiator ii #gladiator 2

120 notes · View notes

dixonsdarkelf · 5 months ago

Text

New Girl in New England: Connor MacManus & Fem!Reader

Main masterlist Connor x Reader Masterlist AO3 link

Summary: This is your first winter in Boston, having recently moved there from somewhere warm, and it’s your first experience with snow. While trying to learn how to scrape the ice off your car, a certain Irishman offers his help.

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1k (this was supposed to be a drabble, but here we are lmao)

Warnings: I actually don’t think there’s any for this one!

A/N: Me, posting twice in one week? Crazy. Also, this is my first time writing for Connor! He’s really grown on me recently, and I got this idea the other day after going out into the snowy hell that is a Midwestern winter. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I’d love to keep writing with him. Also those eyes??? Are you kidding me??? Hello??? I kept the place reader moved from vague, so you can choose wherever. I hope you like it 🖤

“How do you even use this thing?” you groaned, spinning the scraper around in your hands. Your fingers trembled lightly as the bitter winter chill penetrated the material of your gloves, nipping at your skin. You’d severely underestimated how thick your hand protection should be.

This was your first New England winter, having just recently moved to Boston for work a couple of weeks prior. This was also your first go-round with snow and ice, and in trying to plan your move, you’d completely forgotten to learn how to acclimate to the weather. And now here you were—standing on the curb, your window coated in ice, with a tool in your hand that you’d never see before, let alone knew how to use.

In the throes of your frustration, you almost didn’t notice the friendly Irish accent cutting through the frosty air. “Yer new to this, aren’t ye?”

Taking your attention off your car and shaking some hair away that’d fallen in your face, you noticed a man had approached. He was tall, and even from a few feet away, you could feel he was having to look down to meet your gaze. His hair was a light brown, somewhere between pecan and hickory, and his sapphire eyes were piercing, nearly slicing right through the agitation fogging up your mind. And above all, there was his Irish accent. It was soft, easy on the ears, and quickly turning your heart into a puddle. You could listen to him talk for hours.

“Is it that obvious?” you sighed, keeping your tone light and sprinkling in a laugh, doing your best to mask your frustration, “just moved here.” You held up the tool in your hand, spinning it to show off the different angles. “Never even seen one of these before.”

“Ye need a hand?” he asked, gesturing to your car.

Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t accept help from a stranger, a random man nonetheless. But something about his presence felt safe, warm, and comfortable. Still, you didn’t want to burden someone you didn’t know. “I can’t ask you to do that,” you protested.

He smiled at your opposition, his pearly whites on full display. His infectious grin made your heart skip a beat. “Don’t recall ye askin’,” he argued, “believe I offered.”

He was right, and you knew that. You had no idea what you were doing, and without some help, you’d likely be there all night. You exhaled deeply, your breath whirling around your head like cigarette smoke.

“You’re a saint,” you gushed, holding your ice scraper out for him to take. As he took it, you could feel the heat radiating off his touch through your gloves, and the small contact was already warming you from the inside out.

“Not a saint, lass.” You stepped back to give him room, and he began working on your windshield, first sweeping the snow off with the brush on one end of the scraper. You smiled softly, and blood rushed to your cheeks at the affectionate pet name. “Just wanted to help.”

You watched closely while he worked. He was precise, moving swiftly like it was second nature to him, like he’d done this a thousand times before. Because he probably had.

“Won’t that break the glass?” you inquired once he started using the flat end of the tool to remove the thick layer of ice on your windshield. He seemed to be using a fair amount of force, enough that you were worried about potential damage to your new ride. He chuckled, clearly amused by your naivety, the sweet sound permeating the cold like a heat wave.

“No, ye won’t break it. Ye scrape the ice off, not smack it,” the beautiful stranger explained, checking to make sure you were watching before he continued. Pulling your stunning peepers from his face was harder than you would’ve liked to admit, but you obliged.

After a couple of minutes, he handed the scraper back to you, your windshield now ice and snow-free. “There ye go. Should be good now.”

The smile you graced him with could’ve lit the entire city, and it made the Irishman’s heart flutter. “What’s your name?”

“Christ, I’m so sorry, where are my manners?” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Name’s Connor. What’s yers?”

“Y/N,” you replied, resting the scraper on your car across the wipers.

“Beautiful name,” he mused. When he spoke to you, he kept his gaze respectful, his baby blues hardly leaving your face or breaking eye contact. A small laugh slipped through your lips at his honeyed words. There was a sparkle in your eye when you laughed, and oh, did he love it.

“Well thank you, Connor,” you praised, nodding to your car and shoving your hands in your pockets, “for both the compliment and helping me with this.”

“No trouble, lass,” he assured, where were ye headed?”

You groaned softly and scowled. In the chaos of trying to de-ice your car and this stunning specimen stumbling upon you, you’d forgotten all about your original plans, which now sounded more like a nightmare. “Was supposed to head the store, but I’m just gonna walk to the coffee shop down the street instead. I’ll try driving in the snow another day.”

He seemed hesitant to ask his next question, but after a moment and another half-smile from you, he did. “Want some company?”

That little smile grew into a full one, making Connor’s stomach do backflip after backflip. “Yeah. I’d like that.” Waiting for him to take the lead, you strode up next to him, playfully tapping his arm with your elbow. “Be careful though. If things go well, I might ask you to teach me how to drive in this weather.”

He met your gaze again, his expression flirty this time. His tone was sincere, and there was a hint of something else. Excitement, it seemed—almost like he was looking forward to it. “Wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

Hit me up if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist 🖤

#❧ 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓈 #connor macmanus #connor macmanus x fem reader #connor macmanus x fem!reader #connor macmanus x reader #connor x reader #Connor MacManus x you #Connor MacManus x y/n #connor the boondock saints #Connor macmanus fanfic #the boondock saints #boondock saints fanfic #boondock saints #connor boondock saints #connor macmanus boondock saints

42 notes · View notes

kybercrystals94 · 7 months ago

Text

Banner by @blackseafoam | Event: @galactic-gift-gathering

This story was written for @nerdyduckrants and their prompt “Snow”…they wanted something with the Bad Batch and full of family fluff 🖤 Thank you for the fun prompt, and for being an amazing part of this fandom ☺️

Snow Day

Read here on Ao3!

Rated: G | Words: 1365

“Crosshair’s on my team!” Omega announces, latching herself to Crosshair’s arm as if one of their brothers might try to bodily snatch him away.

Crosshair groans, and halfheartedly tries to shake her off, but Omega holds fast, grinning wildly from under her knitted hat. Her face is already turning pink from the cold because she refused to wear the matching scarf Hunter had tried to wrap around her.

“Maybe I don’t want to be on your team,” Crosshair grumbles.

Omega snorts. “Liar.”

He is a liar, but he’ll never ever admit it out loud. Just like he’ll never admit that the fact that she chose him over either Wrecker or Hunter gives him a sickeningly, sticky warm feeling under his rib cage where his heart is.

A year ago, Crosshair thought if he never saw snow again it would be too soon. And yet somehow, willingly, he is standing in the stuff halfway up to his knees, all because Omega has never had a proper “snow day.” Where Hunter managed to find all this cold weather gear on short notice is beyond him, but Omega’s weeklong dream of having a snowball fight with her brothers is coming to fruition.

“I guess teams are decided then,” Hunter says with a grin, and nearly faceplants in the snow when Wrecker sidles up to him and slaps him on the back.

“Me and you, Hunt! We’ll show ‘em how it's done!” the giant crows.

Omega swings from Crosshair’s still captive arm. “No! We’ll show you, won’t we, Crosshair?”

“They won’t know what hit them,” Crosshair agrees, smirking.

“Hey, no putting ice in your snowballs,” Hunter says sternly.

Wrecker adds, “Or rocks.”

“Why would someone do that?” Omega asks, aghast.

“Because two someones figured out the accuracy of a snowball was increased with added weight,” Hunter says.

Wrecker coughs, “Crosshair. Tech.”

Omega laughs.

“Those someones were right,” Crosshair returns, “But three other someones were being tubies about it, even though they were literally wearing armor and it didn’t hurt them at all.”

“It was the principle!” Wrecker declares.

“Well, we’re not wearing armor now,” Hunter says.

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll teach Omega how to make boring, regular snowballs. Happy?”

Hunter gives his youngest brother a look and changes the subject. “Alright, we have twenty minutes to prepare for the fight.”

“Starting now!” Wrecker cries and dashes away.

With an indignant noise of protest, Hunter takes off after his teammate, leaving Crosshair and Omega on their own.

Omega looks up at Crosshair. “What do we do first?”

“First,” Crosshair says, finally extracting his arm from Omega’s grip, “we need to create a base. Where we’ll keep all our ammunition.”

“You mean our snowballs?”

“Ammunition,” Crosshair reiterates, enunciating each syllable. “This is a battle. A battle we’re going to win.”

Omega grins. “Okay. A place to keep our ammunition. Got it.”

Crosshair surveys their surroundings, eyes moving across the blinding white blanket of snow. The landscape is a meadow with rolling hills, framed on the outskirts by evergreen trees. They can use this to their advantage if they play their cards right, putting their fortress at the crest of a hill so that they can have the high ground advantage when Hunter and Wrecker try to advance. While Hunter and Wrecker will use the same tactic, building their own base at the top of a hill, Wrecker will never be patient enough to wait for Crosshair and Omega to come to them.

Which will be his and Hunter’s ultimate downfall.

“I’ll make the walls of our base,” Crosshair decides, starting to move in the direction of the highest hill. “You’ll focus on ammunition.”

“Okay!” Omega chirps, following in the path Crosshair is clearing through the snow.

When they make it to their destination, Crosshair points at the ground. “Use this snow to make the snowballs. I’m going to build four walls around you.”

“But won’t we need to get out?” Omega asks.

Crosshair smiles. “Not if I know our brothers.”

Omega gasps when the realization hits. “They’ll come to us!”

“Exactly.” Crosshair kneels down in the snow, scooping up a handful in his flesh hand and uses his prosthetic, sheathed in a glove, to begin forming a ball, demonstrating the technique to Omega. “I trust you can make a few hundred of these in fifteen minutes?”

“A few hundred?” Omega gasps.

“A thousand, that’d be better.”

“That’s impossible!”

“With that attitude it is,” Crosshair tells her. “Now stop whining and get to work!”

Omega groans and crouches down to scoop up a handful of snow. Crosshair looks at the weapon in his head then tosses the snowball at her lightly, the soft, white orb bursting on the back of her head.

“Hey!” Omega cries, twisting to glare up at him.

“Target practice,” Crosshair says, shrugging

Omega throws the half formed ball in her hands at him, hitting his stomach with a mist of snow.

Crosshair gasps, dusting himself off. “You’re wasting our ammo!”

“You started it!”

“I never said I was a good example, did I?”

He is rewarded with an eye roll and a smile as Omega turns back to her task, scooping up handfuls of snow and balling them up. Crosshair begins forming the walls of their fortress, gathering up armfulls of snow from the sides of the hill and bringing them to the top, making piles that he then begins to pack down.

“It feels like it’s been longer than twenty minutes,” Omega says, scraping up another handful of snow from her nearly depleted supply from within the fortress.

Crosshair is finishing the fourth wall. “Oh, it has.”

“Then where are they?” Omega asks, standing to look over the wall.

“Waiting for us to come to them,” Crosshair says.

“And we’re waiting for them to come to us?”

“Exactly. But we’ve got something that they have in short supply.” Crosshair climbs over the wall and sits down next to her. “Patience.”

Omega laughs, then looks at her piles of snowballs. “Did I make enough?”

“No, but it’ll have to do.”

The girl sticks her tongue out at him.

“Real mature,” Crosshair drawls.

It is at that moment that a giant snowball sails overhead, obviously a product of Wrecker’s massive mitts.

Crosshair grabs a snowball in each hand, and Omega does the same.

“Ready?” Crosshair asks.

Omega nods, eyes bright and glinting with mischief. “Ready.”

And the battle begins.

***

“I feel cold all the way to my bones,” Omega says, her hands curled around a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Hunter chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you play in the snow for too long.”

Crosshair ignores the dark memories trying to creep up, focusing his attention on the fact that Hunter thought to bring something warm and sweet to drink on the flight back to Pabu. During the war, it was usually watered down instant caf that greeted them when they returned to the Marauder, rationed out because they didn’t know when they’d be able to get more.

“I like this stuff,” Wrecker announces, then tries to shake out the last drops of his hot chocolate into his mouth from his mug.

Crosshair likes it too; however, maybe it's the residue of that sticky warm feeling in his chest, but he passes over his mug to Wrecker to finish off. His brother smiles at him, broad and toothy, and happily accepts the silent gift. Crosshair’s mouth twitches up in a responding half smile.

“That was so fun,” Omega sighs. “Can we do it again someday?”

“Sure, kid,” Hunter says, reaching over to tousle Omega’s smushed up hair that is flat against her head from the hat she’d been wearing.

“But we’re gonna switch up teams next time,” Wrecker grumbles.

“No!” Omega cries, “Crosshair and I made the perfect team! That’s why we won!”

“But I’ve never gotten to be on Crosshair’s team,” Wrecker whines. “And my team was so lame.”

Hunter frowns. “I’m right here, Wreck.”

“I know,” Wrecker says.

Crosshair smirks. “I’ll decide whose team I’m on.”

Omega wiggles her eyebrows at him and mouths, Mine, right?

Crosshair shrugs dismissively, even though the answer is yes.

For that kid, the answer will always be yes.

END

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my Tag List!

Tag List: @arctrooper69 @groguandthebadbatch @ezras-left-thumb @maeashryver @baddest-batchers @laughhardrunfastbekindsblog @omegafett99 @heidnspeak @fionas-frenzy @dreamsight73 @royallykt @blackseafoam @illogicaalbraindump @skellymom

64 notes · View notes