#(those in balcony got moved to floor) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minswriting · 2 months

Text

West Coast - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: The team is in L.A, investigating a case where an unsub is killing couples involving an older man and a younger woman outside of clubs. You and Aaron end up undercover at a club, dancing together. What was an undercover investigation quickly becomes something of a different nature when a certain tension gets involved. And after the unsub gets caught and everything is settled, you get a visit from Aaron at your hotel room.

Warnings: NSFW Content, Minors Do Not Interact, regular criminal minds topics and violence, sexual tension, grinding, unprotected sex, p in v, lana del rey coded fr.

Word Count: 2,500 Words

Down on the West Coast they got a sayin'

"If you're not drinkin' then you're not playin'"

But you've got the music, you've got the music

In you, don't you?

Your hips moved graciously to the music as you danced sensually against Aaron. His hands gripped your hips, holding them close to you while his breath hit your neck. The moment was hot to say the least, literally and metaphorically. The club lights were blue and dimmed, the dance floor filled with fog and sweaty bodies. The club scene in Los Angeles was artistic, edgy. Perhaps you would’ve enjoyed it had the circumstances been different.

The BAU was in L.A, investigating a series of murders that involved couples outside of nightclubs. The couples were always with an older man and a younger woman. And after days of no luck in catching the guy, it had been agreed upon that Hotch and you go undercover. So here you were, grinding against your boss with your coworkers in the room, scattered around.

Down on the West coast, I get this feeling like

It all could happen, that's why I'm leaving

You for the moment, you for the moment

Boy Blue, yeah, you

As you swayed your hips to the music, your ass grazed Aaron’s crotch. You’d love to say it was accidental but you knew yourself. The heat of the moment was getting to you. You heard the shaky breath that escaped the lips that were right near your ear, his bulge pressing against you. The heat of the moment was getting to him too.

To say you had always had an attraction to your boss would be a bit of an understatement. Aaron was a constant presence in your fantasies ever since you had joined the team. With his authoritative presence and the way he took control, you often found yourself wondering if he were the same in the bedroom. And now that you’ve gotten yourself in this situation, those thoughts are skyrocketing.

“Keep dancing. There’s a man looking at the two of you on the other side of the room,” came Morgan’s voice in the ear piece that you were wearing. “Reid, are you able to get a clear view?”

“Affirmative,” said the genius over the ear piece.

Maybe you should be more concerned. You are in fact working. You’re supposed to be catching this unsub. But when Aaron grips you tighter and his lips are to the shell of your ear, your brain could hardly comprehend the rest of what’s going on around you. “Can you feel what you did to me?” He murmured into your ear, pressing himself closer to you. “Perhaps I should take you home later.”

It’s all just an act. You’re both professionals, putting on a facade to catch the bad guy. And yet it felt so real. With the obvious hard-on that Aaron was sporting, the obvious shakiness in his breath, the weakness you felt in your knees from his voice. It was all so much. And yet, it was all an act.

You're falling hard, I push away, I'm feeling hot to the touch

You say you miss me and I wanna say I miss you so much

But something keeps me really quiet, I'm alive, I'm a lush

Your love, your love, my love

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

I'm in love (I'm in love)

That night, after the successful catching of the unsub, you had gotten back to your hotel room absolutely beat. Usually, after catching the bad guy, you guys are on the jet, going back to Virginia. But Aaron had requested that you all leave in the morning, exclaiming that you all deserved a night of genuine rest before traveling. So you had gotten back to your hotel room, took a shower, changed into pajamas, and were now sitting on the bed, reading when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

You frowned, checking the time. Who would be knocking at your hotel door at one in the morning? You got up from the bed, walking over to the door. You checked the peep hole, seeing Aaron standing out there still dressed in the outfit he wore at the club. You unlocked the hotel door, opening it. “Sir?” You said, looking confused at your boss. “Is everything alright?”

Aaron looked at you, eyeing you up and down for a moment as he took in your form. You were dressed in a tank top and shorts, revealing much more of your skin than he had seen before. You couldn’t help but feel a bit self conscious under his stare and yet you did nothing to move. Because you secretly loved it. After a moment of silence, Aaron cleared his throat, looking at your eyes. “I wanted to see how you’re holding up after tonight,” he said, his voice a bit rough.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you bit your lip. “I’m good,” you said softly. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m good too,” he replied, nodding his head.

It was silent between the two of you. The tension was obvious at that point. Or maybe you were just tense. Who really knew? Nothing was said or done as you both just looked at each other. Until a few moments later.

You don’t really know who made the first move. All you knew was that your lips crashed with Aaron’s and he pushed the both of you into the hotel room, closing the door behind himself without his lips leaving yours. Clothes flew across the room, soft noises escaped your mouth as Aaron kissed you harshly and passionately. It had most definitely been pent up.

Down on the West coast, they got their icons

Their silver starlets, their Queens of Saigons

And you've got the music

You've got the music in you, don't you?

Down on the West coast, they love their movies

Their golden gods and Rock 'n' Roll groupies

And you've got the music

You've got the music in you, don't you?

You push it hard, I pull away, I'm feeling hotter than fire

I guess that no one ever really made me feel that much higher

Te deseo, cariño, boy, it's you I desire

Your love, your love, my love

The back of your legs hit the mattress as Aaron gently pushed you towards it. The both of you were naked, kissing passionately. The tension from the whole night just building up inside the both of you. Aaron pulled away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. “If you want me to stop, now would be the time to let me know,” he whispered against your lips.

“Please don’t stop,” you whispered back, your hand trailing down his chest.

Aaron let out a shaky breath. “I want you so bad,” he said.

“Then have me.”

A statement that held so much power. It was all the consent that Aaron needed. “Sit down,” he commanded softly, gesturing to the edge of the bed. And of course you obeyed with no questions asked, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

It felt surreal to say the least. Your fantasies of your boss were becoming a reality. It had certainly been the energy from the club that really caused so much tension. Part of you was nervous about what would happen afterward. Sleeping with your boss is never a good idea. But whatever happened on the West Coast, stayed on the West Coast.

Aaron dropped to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with his beautiful brown eyes. He trailed his fingers from your ankle to your thighs, leaning down to press a small kiss on your right thigh before kissing the left thigh. He slowly pulled your legs apart, revealing your cunt to him. It was glistening, wet from nothing but just kissing him. And he adored it. “You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured.

“Only for you,” you murmured back.

“Yeah?” He asked, giving you a small smirk. “Good girl.” And without any hesitation, he dived in, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole and then back to your clit. You gasped and moaned, reaching to grip Aaron’s hair. When you say you had never gotten your pussy eaten this good, you truly mean it. Aaron was eating you out in ways you’d never felt before, diving into it as though he were a starving man who had just gotten food for the first time.

His nose was against your clit, rubbing it as he tongued your hole, lapping around your pussy. He let out his own soft noises, gripping your thighs so that you couldn’t move. And you? You most certainly were moaning like a whore.

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

Your first orgasm was absolutely gorgeous. Aaron had made you cum on his tongue in less than five minutes. You had clenched your thighs so hard around Aaron’s head that he thought for just a split second that he would pass out in between your thighs. And honestly, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. You tasted heavenly, like nectar blessed by the Gods above.

“Aaron,” you moaned after your orgasm, desperately needing his cock inside of you. “Need you so bad,” you said, looking down at your handsome boss.

He looked up at you, face glistening with your juices as he slowly stood up. You couldn’t help but look at his cock, wanting it so badly. Aaron certainly wasn’t below average. His cock was about seven inches but my god was it girthy. It will stretch you out so nicely, in a way that you desperately craved. Your hole clenched at that very thought, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Aaron.

“You need my cock, pretty girl?” He asked softly, reaching down to grip his cock, pumping it slowly.

You nodded your head, giving a sultry pout as you looked up at Aaron. “Need your cock so bad, sir,” you exclaimed.

Aaron let out a soft moan at your words, especially to you saying ‘sir’. It sent a rush down to his cock. Your sultry and whiny voice, begging for him to take you. You calling him “sir” just was the cherry on top. You were perfect and he adored it. He adored you. “I’ll give you my cock, baby,” he exclaimed, moving so he could align himself to your pussy. He slowly eased himself inside of you, careful to not hurt you while also letting out a low moan.

You let out a loud moan, gripping the sheets below you as you clenched around his cock. The stretch certainly hurt though that was expected. You truthfully hadn’t had sex in quite awhile and Aaron was bigger than most people you’ve been with. Regardless, you were just glad to be filled. You craved it. As Aaron bottomed out, he stayed still for a few minutes, waiting for you to adjust to his size. You took a few minutes to get used to it, allowing your body time to relax. And soon, you were ready for him to move. “You can move,” you licked your lips, looking up at your boss.

Aaron took a moment to look at you, admiring your beauty. He couldn’t help it. You were just so beautiful. However, without any further hesitation, he began thrusting his hips slowly inside of you, making you both groan in pleasure. To say Aaron craved this was an understatement. He had wanted you since the day you had joined the team. It had taken everything in his power to make sure your relationship stayed strictly professional. And perhaps it will remain so when you guys get back to the East Coast. But tonight? Tonight was the night for indulging. Because the desire was simply just too much.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned underneath Aaron, closing your eyes in pleasure as his hips began moving faster. His cock thrusted in and out of you, stretching you so good and hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “Feels so good,” you whimpered in pleasure.

“God, you’re so tight,” Aaron let out a choked moan. Your pussy was clenching his cock, adding to his pleasure. “And so wet.” Your cunt was perfect, clenching him as though it were made for his cock and his cock only.

Aaron’s thrusts were hard and fast as he fucked you. The room was filled with the loud moans of the both of you while skin hit skin. The squelching of your pussy was echoing in the room. You could feel that heat building in your abdomen as Aaron’s cock hit your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh my god!” you moaned, throwing your head back.

Aaron could feel the pleasure building inside of him, ready to erupt inside of you at any given moment. “I’m so close, baby,” he groaned, looking down at you as he fucked you. Your tits were bouncing, your cheeks were flushed while your eyes were closed. You were moaning his name as a mantra just as he moaned yours. And soon, you were cumming around his cock with your back arching and your toes curling. Aaron followed suit, letting out a long “fuuuck,” as he came. His cum shot inside of you, rope after rope as he filled you.

When you both came down from your highs, Aaron pulled out of you slowly before collapsing onto the bed right next to you. You looked up at the ceiling, finally comprehending the fact that you fucked your boss and now the unknowns of what will happen afterwards were integrating your mind. But as Aaron took you into his arms, those thoughts slowly crawled away. It doesn’t need to be so complicated.

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

I'm in love

What happens in the West Coast stays in the West Coast.

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #smut #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions

1K notes · View notes

carpenterswife · 3 months

Text

HALF OF ME (iv)

SUMMARY: With Soldier Boy alive in the 2020’s, back in America, he starts his mission of vengeance. Of course, his first stop is to you; the only woman he’d truly wanted to start a relationship with, who’d taken his spot only months after his supposed death. And you don’t exactly expect your old lover to appear in your home, with the intent to kill.

WORD COUNT: 2238

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. Typical Soldier Boy behaviour, gore, heavy violence, canon divergence.

SERIES MASTERLIST / MAIN MASTERLIST

Finding you was difficult. They were beginning to think Ben had been wrong, that you were six foot under in some unlabelled grave, rotting away. But, Ben was sure. And arguing with him seemed like signing their death warrant.

So, they kept searching. Despite the fact they could have located at least two other Payback members, and had them dead, by now, Ben was insistent on killing you first.

So, they kept fucking searching.

And then they found it.

It was a tiny discrepancy. Something most people would simply brush past. But, Hughie found it, and it was all they needed. They followed the rabbit hole, down and down, finding hidden documents and details not even Ben knew about.

It only took two days to pinpoint your location.

The Appalachian Mountains. In the middle of fucking nowhere. Smack-bang in the middle of one of the largest forests in the entire USA. But, to Ben, that fact was whatever. He had your location. And he was going to find you, even if it meant spending weeks searching every inch of that forest.

Butcher and Hughie knew it was a dumb idea.

But, they got Ben in a car, and started their roadtrip.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

The quiet life was nice, you’d decided. You’d forgotten about Queen Maeve’s uninvited visit, going back to your routine of feeding the animals and drinking coffee on the balcony every morning.

It was weird. You used to be one of the most famous people on the planet. There was blood staining every inch of your hands, and families who were likely still trying to gain justice for the people you killed. You had decades of history. And, yet, you now lived out your days as some sort of Disney princess.

You couldn’t complain. It was better than willingly running into gunfire every week.

Padding through your dark home, the moonlight casting a soft glow over the floors, you headed for the kitchen. You were never too old for a midnight snack. Especially in the comfort of your own home. You turned into the kitchen.

And you saw it. A dark figure, shadowed in the corner.

But, you kept moving, playing oblivious. In your mind, your old training make itself own. Ben’s critiques and advice played like a movie, as you pulled the cabinet open, standing high on your toes to reach for packet of chips. Your senses were on fire, focused in on the quiet breaths, the soft squeaking of boots on the tile.

They moved, and so did you.

You ducked under the fist swinging towards your face, snatching a knife from the block beside the fridge. Holding it tightly in your fist, your stance ready to attack, you looked at the intruder. Every muscle in your body froze.

“Ben?”

He didn’t pull his punches. Ben grabbed you by the throat, using your momentary distraction to his advantage, shoving your back against the sharp edge of the counter. Instinctively, you swiped the knife towards him, but a rough hand caught your wrist, slamming it down onto the counter.

A cry of pain slipped past your lips, fingers releasing the knife. It was his turn to grab it, tossing it from your reach.

No words were spoken, just heavy breathing.

You’d never seen Ben look at you like this before. This look was reserved for those who got on the wrong side of him. Those who disappeared mysteriously overnight and were never found again — but you knew what happened. And so did he.

He was here to kill you.

“Ben—“ You choked out, through the tightening grip his hand had around your throat. The grip tightened, and your breath caught with a squeak, broken gasps for air trying desperately to pull in oxygen.

“How much did they pay you?” He demanded, his voice low and gravelly. “Huh? How much, did they fucking pay you?” There was something about him that was so different. A new edge to him, maybe. But, what caught your attention, was the look in his eyes.

Hurt. He was staring at you like you’d ripped his heart from his chest and stomped on it.

You clawed at his wrist, unable to bring any air into your lungs. Your nails bit into his skin, the scratches down his wrist quickly repairing themselves. He let you go. Not out of mercy. No. He grabbed your collar, lifting your head up, and then slamming it down onto the counter.

Your vision went completely white, all remaining breath knocked from your lungs with a gasp. Blinking desperately to clear the stars, you tried to struggle. But, he slammed you down again. And again. And again. Until he tossed you to the floor like nothing more than a rag doll.

The counter was cracked from the force of it, blood staining the white marble, and splattered across the counter. Your own kitchen. Stained with your blood. You could feel the warm liquid dripping down the back of your head, matting in your hair.

If you weren’t a supe, you’d be dead.

He didn’t let you get a word in, brutal with each of his attacks. As you desperately tried to scramble away, body on fire, he put his foot down on your ankle. Leaning down, staring intently at you, with dark eyes, Ben snarled. “How much?”

“Ben—“ Finally, words escaped. In a pathetic whimper that made his lips twitch in disgust. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your breath hitched with pain.

That answer wasn’t good enough for him. You swore you could feel the bones in your jaw crack, as his fist met your cheek. You cried out in pain, the force of the impact whipping you around, hitting your head against the ground.

His hand curled into your hair, forcing your eyes on him. “Don’t fucking lie to me, you bitch.” Your breaths were ragged, with pain and terror, staring up at the man you thought was dead. He seethed, nothing but anger and disgust (and hurt?) in his green eyes. “You whored yourself out to me, huh? Put my dick in your mouth? For what? Fuckin’ soften me up like a weak pussy?”

“Ben—“

“Don’t.” He tugged your hair, hard. “I loved you.” His teeth grit together.

Your heart broke, tears in your eyes as you stared up at him. He loved you. And he thought you’d hurt him? He was dead. He was dead. That’s what they said. They said he was dead. Your mind worked at 100 miles an hour, heart constricting.

He loved you.

Soldier Boy loved you.

You didn’t even think he was capable of that. Sure, you knew you had something special with him, something unique. But love? It’d never crossed your mind. You’d always loved him somewhat, always throwing yourself in front of bullets and danger to protect him. Always following his lead and teasing him.

Always pushing your luck with his temper. Because he never snapped. He never hurt you. He never hit you. You knew you’d loved him, when your heart would dance when he chuckled at your jokes. The way your body reacted to his hands on your hips during your first training session. You knew there was something. But, for sure, you thought it was one-sided.

That, to him, you were a good fuck. Just a hole, as he liked to say about some women.

But, you’d been so wrong. And, all this time, 37 years, he’d been alive. And you’d done nothing.

“I loved you.” He repeated, in a broken seethe. His eyes were less angry now, but still held that hint of vengeance. “I would’ve died for you.” You could’ve sobbed, right there. “We were gonna start a family.”

Your voice was shaky. “Ben. Please. I don’t know what’s going on.” You begged, pathetic and weak. Ben scoffed, emotional. “I thought you were dead. I swear it, Ben!” It was practically a plea; a desperate cry for him to believe you.

He was too blinded by his rage. “I waited every day for you.” He hissed, reaching over and grabbing his discarded shield. “For you to come and get me. To save me. You never came.”

“Ben—“

He shoved you down, head slamming against tile once more. Knees on other side of your hips, Ben gripped the edge of his shield, raising it high.

He was going to kill you. You couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t fight it. All you could do was look at him, tears running tracks through the blood on your face. A silent plea, begging him to not do this.

He rose the shield higher, lined up with the juncture of your throat.

And then he saw it. A glint of metal peeking out from under your shirt. He could recognise them from a mile away. They were his, after all. His dog tags, sat delicately just above your chest, resting on the skin like they were made to be there. His brows furrowed, movements faltering.

His dog tags. You were wearing his dog tags.

Ben hesitated, unsure.

He looked down at you, meeting your teary eyes, and his brain ran wild. Of memories of being a couple. Of the memories of when a big question mark had hung above your relationship, neither of you sure of what was going on, but treating each other like lovers anyway.

Your soft touches; the way your fingers would trace the contours of his muscles in the morning. The way you’d kiss each of his scars, muttering against his skin how perfect he was, despite the flaws and the imperfections littering his body. How gentle you were. He’d never felt a gentle touch before you.

How you’d giggle at his jokes, smile blinding, pretty dimples, cheeks flushed.

God, and those eyes. How they’d shine and shimmer when you looked up at him, like he was made of the stars themselves. He always used to melt when you propped your chin on his chest in bed, looking at him with that cute smile, and he’d trace your face with his thumb, cradling your cheeks like delicate glass.

Those few nights spent together, in the limited time you’d had together as an actual couple. The way you’d move together; perfectly in sync, like you were made for each other.

The way you’d hold him. Laugh with him. Smile at him. The passing touches. The lingering stares across red carpets and events, subtly checking each other out, and then meeting up in the supply closet. The quiet moments together, cooking dinner or merely holding each other. All those times you forced him to dance, and he’d begrudgingly spin you in the kitchen. The dates, and the movie nights, and the silly fights, and how warm his cold penthouse felt when you were with him.

Every memory, every moment, replayed in front of his eyes, as he stared at you. He lost his breath, muscles stiff. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring this shield down and kill you. His chest ached and burnt.

He couldn’t kill you.

So, instead, he hit the blunt edge of shield against your head, and watched your eyes roll back.

━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━

Coming to was disorientating and painful.

Every inch of your body ached, from the beating you’d received from Ben. You cringed as the light made the throbbing in your head intensify. Through squinted eyes, you made out the sight in front of you.

You were in your dining room. And there were two… unfamiliar men stood by your table, leaning over files and papers. Movement caught your attention.

Ben. Setting his shield down by the table.

“Ben.” You choked out, instinctively trying to reach out and grab him. To check if he was real. If he was actually stood in front you. Living, breathing. Your hands didn’t move. You looked down, frowning at the sight of tattered rope tying your wrists of the arms of your chair.

The noise drew over the attention of the three men. They exchanged a silent look, and slowly, and rather intimidatingly, approached. You whined a little, at the throbbing pain that made a tremble run it’s course through your body.

One of the unfamiliar men pulled up a chair. “What d’ya know abou’ BCL-RED?” Was that an English or Australian accent? You couldn’t tell through the buzzing in your ears.

“Wha’?” You slurred, blinking rapidly, trying to orientate yourself. “BCL-what-now?” A grunt slipped past your lips. They didn’t look impressed by that answer. “I— I saw it on a file. Back in ‘84. Never figured out what it meant.”

The man learnt forwards. “Neva’ found out?”

Your head shook, and it made the pain increase. Your face scrunched up in agony. “Mm, no.” You groaned, breaths hitched. “It was all classified. Edgar never told me. Mallory and I— we tried to figure it out.”

“Grace Mallory?”

“What? Yes. Grace.” You groaned again. “Jesus. Can you turn off the fucking lights? It feels like there’s a drill in my head.” You tried to push your face into your shoulder, hiding from the light that made your eyes burn and your head feel like Ben was slamming it against the ground again.

There was a beat of silence. “Did you know?” That was Ben. He sounded hesitant.

“Know what?” You peeked up at Ben, eyes squinted to be able to look at him. He looked tense, face expressionless. “I thought you were dead. I don’t know what else to say to convince you. I thought you were dead.”

“How did you not know?” He demanded, his short fuse lit. Ben and his fucking temper.

“I don’t know, Ben!” Your own yell made you wince in pain. “They never told me shit! I tried for 15 years to get answers!”Ben didn’t look convinced. Of course he didn’t. He was so set in his heartbreak and rage, by your supposed betrayal, that he’d utterly convinced himself. “I didn’t know.” You echoed in a broken whisper.

“How’s ‘bout this?” You blinked rapidly, trying to focus in on the accented voice. “We track down the otha’ girl. See what she ‘as to say.” There seemed to be a group-wide agreement.

“Countess?” You grunted, confused. Your gaze flicked between the three men. “I know where she is.”

And that got their attention.

banners in use by @cafekitsune

taglist: @onlyangel-444 @deans-spinster-witch @fumolemon @anundyingfidelity @mostlymarvelgirl @aaronhotchnerlover @delaynew @let-me-luve-you @yvonneeeee @livsh20 @thej2report @lostin-jensenseyes

@boywivlove @leavli @cassieriddle713 @drasticemotions @suspicious-stain-in-spain @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

#soldier boy x you #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #the boys tv #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #half of me

1K notes · View notes

strawberrymochin · 3 months

Text

Cloudy mornings with satoru will be the softest thingy you've ever experienced cuz the way he snuggles his face in your chest, as his chest slowly rises and falls against your body feels like an ethereal slumber you never wanna wake up from. His snow lashes would tickle you as he moves his face a bit to close the non existent gap between you two. The sound of slow rain drops hitting the big glass panes of your dormitory, as it trickles down to the balcony floor, seems to make a melody out of your hushed breaths. Your eyes would flutter open wanting to check the time at the clock on the opposite wall, but would soon forget it, as you would be greeted his feathery hair, which somehow smells kinda minty. However as it moves it trickles your nose. A suppressed sneeze finds its way out of you, as you cover your nose with your hand. Shifting out of the covers you'd grab a tissue nearby wiping your hands by the side of the bed. That's when you would feel two hands snaking across your waist, folding around then perfectly as a head nuzzles on your shoulder, smooching it. “oh satoruu, baby did i woke you up?” you ask, a hand coming up to caress his head, as he hums against your skin. “still sleepy?”

“naah”

“want breakfast? Let's freshen up and i will make pancakes 'kay? Let's go to the washroom.”

“mmh...feelin' lazy....don't wanna go...” he pulls you back on the bed.

“how will you freshen up if you don'—” his index finger presses on lips, shutting you as he suggests he got an amazing idea. You chuckle a bit, asking, “really? What's that?”

“sit on my face baby. Wanna have you choking me with those pretty plump thighs.....” (you forgot how these are the mornings he's horny af)

a/n- have an exam knocking on my door and I'm procrastinating like I've got the world under my feet..... haven't posted so long...kk bye

763 notes · View notes

eddiernunson · 1 month

Text

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

Prev | Next

Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, this chapter has some forced proximity, tension and uh oh feelings.

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word Count: 3.7k (it’s the shortest one, I promise I’m so sorry 😭)

Chapter 2

The first thing you did when you got into Eddie Munson’s little red corvette was peel the window open, claiming you had just needed some fresh air. It was true, as his scent had choked you as soon as you sat down on the dark gray leather seats. It’s strangely intoxicating, an odd mix of smoke, woodsy, and pure man that has you wanting to take a big whiff like some little pervert.

Strangely even from the window of a rockstar’s corvette the little town looked no more glamorous than it did from your beat up car, the small town feel of it all suffocating as you fill with gratitude you managed to get out. He finally pulls in front of a three story apartment, white walls and balconies so small they make you claustrophobic.

“Uh, how are we supposed to fill this small car with all your uncle’s stuff?” You ask, peering into the backseat as you undo your seatbelt.

He smiles, his eyes momentarily switching between the backseat of the two door car and you. “My van is in the resident’s parking lot, it should have plenty of room to move stuff over.”

“So, donation, your place and your uncle’s place, I’m guessing?” You ask, walking a step behind him to the front door of the building.

“Pretty much. It just comes down to going through it which I know, will be a fucking pain.” He reaches your eyes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not that you had much of a choice,” he adds as he opens the apartment door, a small bout of laughter filling the halls.

Okay, that was weird.

His uncle lived on the first floor in the corner room in a furnished spot, so all it came down to were the knicknacks he had collected over the years. You didn’t think that’d be so bad until you walked in, your eyes landing on wall to wall collections of mugs and hats and other tiny sentimental things.

“Pretty sure we’re going to end up donating most of the mugs, he doesn’t use them anyway, it’s the hats he’s been fighting tooth and nail for,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing a moving box you haven’t noticed from a stack in a pile against the wall.

“How’d those get here?”

“My assistant brought them with the van,” he explains, setting the box up. “He’s hanging out around town until we pack the van up.”

“Must be nice to have an assistant to take care of that shit,” you muse, your voice only the teeniest bit bitter about it.

He passes you the box, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’m aware it sounds pretentious. I only hired him when I kept losing track of which fucking thing I had to do next. Interview, show, interview, photo shoot…it was fucking never ending at times. Sometimes I needed a reminder to fucking eat.”

You grab the box from him, ignoring the twinge in your gut as you walk up to a bookshelf in the corner of the small living room containing many little things. You know time is of the essence, but you can’t help yourself, leaning over to analyze the display his uncle had created. There’s a photo in the center in a simple wooden frame, a gruff older man who you supposed would be Wayne standing arm in arm with Eddie, a much younger, freer Eddie, at least, standing outside in front of a forest area.

Eddie has his hand on his hip, squinting his eyes against the sun with his uncle's arm wrapped around his shoulder. If you’d looked closer, you’d see their reddened faces, blotchy from tears shed but both gritting their teeth for the picture.

“That was the day I left for LA,” you jump at his voice, holding your chest tightly as you turn to look around to face him.

He’s still across the apartment, wrapping the mugs and storing them in a tupperware box. “I have never seen him cry like that in my life. I was scared shitless.”

You avoid his stare, the starry eyed version of him something you’re not quite used to, something stirs deep in your gut that you find oddly unsettling.

In an attempt to ignore it you look closer at the knick knacks surrounding it, suddenly realizing it was just Corroded Coffin merch, tickets, and even demos. “These would be worth a pretty penny,” you turn over the tape in your hand, imagining a rough draft of Eddie’s untuned, inexperienced vocals. “To you, they must be priceless.”

“I could release them if I’d really wanted to, but the songs suck and my voice was even worse,” Eddie shrugs, still moving mugs into their different boxes. You notice how much fuller the one on the left is, Eddie making actual progress in comparison to your dilly-dallied snooping.

“I bet Wayne still wants this.” You sigh, placing the memorabilia gently in the cardboard box, admiring the faded ink from ticket stubs over twenty years ago. The following shelf had a full row of dark fantasy novels, every spine cracked to oblivion with yellowed crinkled pages. “Do you want these?”

Eddie looks over, absentmindedly wrapping a mug when he double, triple takes, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Oh I thought he threw those away!”

Suddenly the scent of his cologne invades your nose again as he leans right next to you, grabbing at one of the books on the shelf with a giddy grin. “I used to reread these all the time.”

“Princesses needing rescuing in some odd faraway land?” You tease, turning the dark green book over in your hand.

“Usually with some kind of twist,” he hums, analyzing the back of his paperback as he squats his ass an inch over the floor. “Dragons being in cahoots, noble knights acting selfishly, evil kings turning out to be righteously good… there was always some sort of twist,” his narration turned dramatic as the sentence moved on, a story teller’s voice.

It reminded you of one specific fun fact. “Uncle Dustin said you were his dungeon master in high school, were these any inspiration?”

Eddie’s brows furrow deeply, jerking his head as swivels sharply upward. “Somehow it’d slipped my mind that you would know Dust.”

You nod absentmindedly, taking in the fantastical names in the description. Lysandra the princess, Eletha the fae, King Alistair… “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” he peeps, fluttering through the pages. “Aah, Sorceress Nyrinn teaching Lysandra basic magic, this takes me back.”

You smile down at him, how his dimples are deeply embedded in his cheeks and his front canines peek from behind that wide grin as he skims through his harlequin equivalent chock full of fantasy and adventure.

“Any of these girls you’ve ever fantasized about rescuing?” You tease him, starting to toss the books in a box labeled Eddie Home. He remains silent, even a pink tinge dusting his ears. “I was joking, sire.”

“Just keep packing,” he grumbles, tossing the book carelessly into your very organized box. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break.”

You find yourself fallen into an easy pattern, having figured out what Eddie’s looking to keep very early on. He’s even willing to go through the boxes that have been long stored at Wayne’s apartment, insisting they don’t need any dead weight, not in Wayne’s small sized room, and not lugged across a few state lines back in LA.

One of the boxes stored in Wayne’s closet seems like it was just thrown together until you realize they were all belongings of a teenage boy. A soft smile graces your face as you imagine Wayne unable to part with the little part of seventeen year old Eddie he still had with him, even if it’s his messy room thrown into a box.

You pick up a small shoe box, the items clunkily jumping about when you shake it. It’s only logical that the box should hold a few dozen player’s dice and painted figurines. The box’s heavy weight is largely contributed to by the worn out and outdated version of the player’s manual.

You take note of the sticky notes curled and faded peeking out of the pages, messy scrawl noting a page Eddie must’ve used for referral once or twice.

One set of dice had a familiar red and plank pattern, painted to look like his prized guitar. You smooth your thumb along the ridged paint, putting the box aside for Eddie despite the protests he will so obviously yelp out.

He deserves to be a bit more forgiving of that side of himself.

There were a handful of items you picked up and put aside for donation, a few old music tapes, a guitar string placement poster, until something catches your eye; a well loved classified notebook.

Now, you might’ve been wrong, but you always had the feeling that Eddie wasn’t too interested in his school work, all items from his locker having been tossed in the garbage the moment the last bell rang each year. As you tentatively open the book, you realize it was probably the one thing that kept him going back.

Each lined paper was filled with his messy scrawl, an intriguing combination of cursive and print, extensively detailed plans for his run as, so Dustin called him, a vindictive and tyrannical dungeon master. Across the scrawl were doodles, well shaded pencil drawings of creatures and classes alike. One page caught your eye towards the end, a full page of scattered doodles that seemed eerily familiar to you.

“Wow.” You look up to face Eddie leaned against the door frame with his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the notebook in your hands. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

You glance back down to the page and its doodles, still trying to make sense of where you could’ve seen it. As if plucked out of thin air, a song starts playing in your head and it clicks. “Hey you used these doodles on an album cover.”

He nods, watching your hands gently touch the graphite on the paper. “You could totally donate these to a rock and roll museum; they'd think it's dope.”

Eddie shakes his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “No one wants to see my ratty old notebook filled with my dateless evenings. There’s not even a single lyric in there.”

“But this is on one of your albums, isn’t it?”

He nods, smiling softly at the abstract doodles before glancing up to you. “I don’t want it, I would never look at it. Take it, if you want.”

You were already tempted to steal it, the notebook having a scent that’s so specifically Eddie with an added elixir of teenage boy added to the mix making maybe your one true Kryptonite. “Whaaaaat? Why would I take it?”

“Steve said you’re a fan of our music, yeah?” You nod meekly, still tracing the graphite. “Well if not, it's going in the trash.”

You put it in your purse.

Since your father left that morning, so did the tether that kept your head on straight, any lingering ideas kept at bay as you kept a safe distance. It was gone.

Keeping a safe distance as an act of self discipline all but seemed moot when your dad offered your services, now stuck in a tiny apartment working around Eddie as his gentle voice hums to the music blasting through his phone.

Maybe a dress isn’t the best choice to wear for manual labor such as packing and moving boxes, the length obviously not long enough to cover the bright underwear. Maybe it's the little allowance you give yourself to indulge in defiance against your own rule. Regardless, it was safer to stay as far away as possible.

Fate proves herself to be a cruel mistress as you find yourself on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab something on a shelf you wondered why someone elderly had a shelf stored so high on the wall, and you smelt him before you felt him, reaching to the shelf’s level to grab it for you.

“Why the hell did he have a shelf this fuckin’ high for?” He huffs, tossing the hidden box onto the bed.

He steps away as fast as he came, leaving the room with a few boxes you had packed and ready. The moment clouds your brain, his strong torso completely against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he stepped away. What the hell?

Your heart pitter patters, your whole body frazzled while you put a few more boxes by the door.

As you’re leaning down to pick up another box you hear Eddie swear loudly down the hall in disgust. He uses the lord’s name in vain several times, rubbing his hand on his pants as his face twists up in utter revulsion when you peek out to see the culprit.

“Somethin’ gross? I don’t see anything wrong with this picture,” you comment, looking around his setting for what might have set him off.

“Don’t–” his hands fly up to prevent you from taking another step. His overly wide eyes and panicked state would usually have you laughing if you weren’t so curious to what could possibly send him into this frantic state of disgust. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Now I really do want to know,” you insist, still scanning the room.

“No. You don’t.” He shakes his head solemnly, his foot slowly shuffling slightly to his left. “Seriously.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” You plead, knowing the possibilities will drive you crazy all day.

“I just found a box of my old clothes,” Eddie starts, gesturing to a kaleidoscope of different shades of black with an occasional band font, unfolded as if thrown in a hurry.

He obviously is hinting towards something, but you need some more exposition. “...Ok?”

Eddie pauses to think, hands on his hips as he racks his brain for something. “Think of it this way. Think of the one item of clothing you don’t want to find under a teenage boy’s bed, twenty years later. Especially twenty years later.” He shudders again.

The one thing…oh. “Oh my god,” you giggle, hiding your obvious glee over his disgust behind your hand. “A…sock?”

Eddie nods slowly, nodding his head in what must be mortification. “Uh huh. I am burning this whole bucket of clothes that just–” he shudders, his left foot inching towards where you had to now guess what must be an absolutely petrified cum-sock lies, “marinated in it.”

A bout of laughter passes through your lips again, disguising the odd intrigue you found yourself in. You might be more perverted than even you initially realized.

No, put away the thought of inhaling in the 20-year-old musk–

“Hey, do you mind helping me with this box? It’s ridiculously heavy,” Eddie gestures down the hall to a tote seemingly filled to the brim with random shit, the sock supposedly tossed into the garbage by then.

“No problem.”

“You want me to walk backward?” He offers, reaching your eyes as you both bend over to grab at the awkward edges.

“Yeah that’d be great,” You cough, failing to ignore the cigarette on his breath just barely disguised by the mint.

Step by step you help him around the corners until you help lift the box into his van, refusing to allow yourself more than a singular moment lingering on how his arms bulge through the lift.

Wayne had a bedside table he hadn’t gone through, filled with momentums over the years. You grab one of the smaller boxes from the living room to hold them, wanting to take care of the things that Wayne had cared for. There were a few photos, Eddie in scattered years from an angsty teenager to a rowdy kid with a missing front tooth. It was obvious everything in his bedside would be moved back to Wayne, allowing him his precious memories of the boy he cared for.

Allotted between the table and the bed is a photo album, something you suspect is cover to cover filled with more photos until you get the glimpse of a brightly coloured pape, just a millisecond but enough to peak your curiosity.

By the second page you’re in tears, softly sniffling at messy scribblings with silly puns and elaborate doodles.

“Hey, when you get a sec–” Eddie stops mid-sentence, taking you in on the bare bed as you weepily turn a page. “You okay?”

“Oh,” you wipe away the tear that was shed, embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s just— it’s so obvious he went through this a lot, some pages are worn out.”

“Let’s see,” he holds his hand out for the photo album, a drop of weight on the bed as he peers shoulder to shoulder with you as he reads over the pages in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

You put the book in his outstretched hands, watching his expression turn misty as well. The deceitful photo album is an album of father’s day cards, about twenty of them all lined in a row with Eddie’s well wishes in each one.

“I started sending them when I was 25,” he mumbles, his voice wet as he turns a page. “I figured since he raised me n’ all, he deserved the title and the recognition.”

“Seems like he felt honored,” you comment, watching page by page.

“I picked these cards out in less than a second but he puts them in a pressed fucking photo album,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Wayne is ridiculous. But he’s always been my biggest supporter.”

Impulsively, you nudge your chin on his shoulder affectionately, watching him flip through the last through the final few pages. You wondered if his vulnerability making you even crazier for him would be an isolated incident.

God sure had a sick sense of humor when he tied emotion and lust for women.

Turns out, you two work remarkably well together because by the time Eddie places the photo album in the box with a not so subtle sniffle, Wayne’s room, kitchen, and livingroom are all packed up and ready for distribution. The things going home with Eddie and to Wayne’s room are in the van stacked like tetris with your very ‘helpful’ commentary and the donations are piled up by the front door waiting for their collection.

The little red corvette has been sitting in the hot sun for a few hours by the time you’re back into it, ready for a night off your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Eddie comments, taking a turn away from your house.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, still only two slices of toast being the one thing used to sustain your appetite for the day. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good, I need to thank you for your help.”

You avoid his intense gaze from the corner of your eye, staring holes into your thighs. “It was nothing–”

“What’s your favourite spot in town?” Eddie seems to be ignoring your protests, meeting them with an exaggerated huff as if you were acting foolish.

“I don’t mind if you take me to the nearest one, Munson. I’m starving,” you insist, laughing at the manic shaking of his head.

“I’m not taking you anywhere except your favorite spot,” Eddie insists right back, without missing a beat.

No wonder he and Steve had managed to stay friends for so long, he matches your stubbornness step for step.

“Fine! Take me to Miss.Tina’s I haven’t had their burgers since I’ve been back,” you think back to their fully stacked burgers paired with their crinkle fries drizzled in mustard. You still haven’t been able to find a burger from a local restaurant near your campus that even rivals Miss.Tina’s recipe.

“Oh, I know you’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughs, taking the left turn at the traffic lights.

“Nope,” you inform him, shaking your head slowly. “It’s always been my favourite place in town.”

“Well call that dumb luck, because it’s my fuckin’ favourite place, too.”

“I take it back.”

You laugh at his deadpan, noting the new decor around the walls since the last time you’ve seen it.

“It’s not that bad.” It is, you’re just hoping he doesn’t leave because of the change.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie deadpans, glancing around to the updated insides now turned into a hollow husk of a restaurant. At least, it certainly felt like the funeral march of your once beloved restaurant. “It’s a horrendous study in interior design. Who the hell paints the inside of a restaurant bright orange?”

“Ok, it’s that bad, but I just need a damn good burger.” You lead the way into the line, noting their updating point of sale. Last time you were there the employee had still been using a notepad, this time an iPad had been stationed on a stand.

The employee now wears some updated uniform barring the design, a bright smile on her face as she greets the two of you. Definitely not the deadened stare you were used to.

The mustard packet you received was a third of the size of what they used to be. It seems Miss.Tina’s has finally met empty corporate capitalism.

The decor might’ve changed, but the recipes remain as always untouched, a collective groan in satisfaction in your first bites in the tacky booth confirmation that Miss.Tina’s still fucks.

“If they change their recipe they are so screwed,” Eddie says exactly what you’re thinking between bites, wiping his face from the sauces that splatters his lips. As he wipes it off, you start to think of making out with him in the booth and lapping up and cleaning his messy face for him. Some real good messy make outs.

You nod, taking a sip from the large soda that must be at least 5 ounces smaller. “Oh, they’d shut down within the week.”

“This was one of the only few places where every group in Hawkins High could be seen, because they didn’t care when we loitered and Miss.Tina treated us like her own.” Eddie glances upward at a sign right by the table, NO LOITERING.

“That’s kind of really depressing,” you sigh, munching on your fry through a fucking wooden fork. “I am not sure I want these fries lathered in mustard enough to also add the taste of wood to it.”

“Plenty of wood has been tasted in these walls before,” Eddie smirks, raising his pierced brow when you choke on the following fry.

It’s like he prides himself on how he manages to make your brain short circuit so easily. Thankfully, years of being raised in the Harrington household has trained a keen sense of wit into you. “Judging on those princess books, Munson,” you take another sip, letting the beginning of your sentence settle in, “doesn’t seem like yours was one of them.”

The fry that bounced off your forehead the moment after was worth it, and the rosy pink that bloomed across his cheeks was even more so.

I have 99% done at this point I’m so excited for y’all to read it!!!

Main taglist: @arlxt @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess @alesiaaa @moonisu @love-anonymous-writer @marlena-marlena @bl1ssfulbaby @kellsck @rockmusiciscalming12 @eddie-munsonsbitch

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader smut #older!eddie #older!eddie munson #older eddie munson x reader #older!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar! eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x you

310 notes · View notes

strawberrynull · 6 months

Text

──⯎ ˙🚬 ̟ cigarettes out the window

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Nishimura Riki

──Pairing: niki x afab!reader

──Genre: angst, some fluff

──Synopsis: Whenever you're unable to sleep due to your insomnia, you go to your balcony to smoke. Niki decides it might be a good idea to take a drive around the city to get some fresh air, hopefully to help you sleep

──Warnings: smoking, cigarettes, insomnia

──A/N: I have two requests that I'm currently working on. This is just a filler until those are done lol

masterlist

11:08 p.m. you read on the digital clock on your nightstand. It was another restless night. Your eyes stung from staring at the bright billboard right outside your bedroom window. The advertisement displayed on the billboard would change every 10 or so minutes. You had counted the ad changing at least 8 times since you had laid down to go to sleep with your boyfriend, Niki, who still rested beside you. His arm was still gently draped over your waist. Your insomnia wasn't new news. Usually, you were able to sleep on nights where Niki slept over at your apartment, though. Tonight was different.

Carefully, you lifted Niki's arm by the sleeve, slipping out of his hold and out of bed. You opened the nightstand drawer and grabbed your usual pack of cigarettes and a silver lighter. A light breeze blew through the room as you opened the glass door that led to a small balcony. You took a cigarette and placed it between your lips as you stepped outside. You flicked the lighter a few times before putting the flame up to the end of the cigarette.

Unbeknownst to you, Niki woke up at the feeling of your absence. His eyes fluttered open, squinting at the bright city lights spilling through the glass doors. Through the blinding lights, he could see you standing out on the balcony with a cigarette in between your index fingers. He watched as you leaned backward, elbows on the railing, tilting your head back and exhaling the smoke. You looked stunning in Niki's eyes. He knew you smoked when you couldn't sleep but he had never witnessed it in person.

You watched as people still roamed the city below you. Cars, buses and taxis still filled the streets and many stores were still open to the public. It was lively and bright even in the middle of the night. Your apartment was 7 stories above it all. Your friends and family had warned you about how noisy the city was at night. They had told you to get an apartment further from the noise. Considering your insomnia, moving to Gangnam was not the wisest choice. Most nights were spent lying awake while staring at the obnoxiously bright billboards. Other nights were spent at Niki's house where you could actually sleep in a dark and quiet room. Occasionally, Niki would spend the night at your place and, somehow, on those nights you were able to sleep despite the noise and the light.

After about an hour and a half, you took one last drag from your cigarette before putting it out on the railing and tossing the excess on the floor of your balcony. Trying not to make any noise, you stepped inside and made your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth. Niki watched the bathroom light flick on and then off as you exited. When you were done you slipped back into bed next to Niki, shifting back into his arms. The smell of cigarettes still lingered on your old band t-shirt.

After another 2 hours of trying to sleep, you got back up, sighing in frustration. Niki was fast asleep again so you carefully tiptoed out to the balcony. You leaned your stomach against the railing as you lit up another cigarette between your lips. Then you hear the sliding glass door open and shut, and a familiar hand finds its way around your waist.

"Can't sleep, beautiful?" You hear Niki's deep voice which is groggy from waking up so suddenly. Next to you, you see him rub his eyes before leaning on the balcony with you. "What's going on in that pretty mind of yours, hmm?" He gives you a concerned look as you exhale smoke. You shake your head as you flick some of the cigarette ashes.

"I don't know, Ki. It's never been this bad." You take another drag from your cigarette as you stare anywhere but at your boyfriend. Seeing you like this makes Niki almost want to blame himself. After all, you did move to Gangnam to live closer to him.

"You should stop doing that." He says quietly, pointing at your cigarette.

"I know," you sigh, letting smoke rise into the air. "I'm going to soon. Don't worry about me."

"But I am worried about you and I want to make you feel better no matter what." Niki explains, taking one of your hands in his. He's sincere in every word that he says. Helping you is his life's goal, at this point, and he's determined to get you back onto a normal sleep schedule. "Let's go for a drive, yeah? Maybe it will help calm you down enough to get at least some rest tonight."

"Niki, I don't think that's going to-"

"If it doesn't work, I'll stay here all day until you're able to sleep." He cupped both of your cheeks, pleading you to let him try to help. "Please.." You nodded reluctantly before putting out your cigarette and tossing it with the rest.

You hopped into the passenger seat of Niki's car; a black Ferrari Enzo. You hadn't been in his car at night many times. It was an astounding experience. Niki would always take the streets with barely any cars so he could speed down the asphalt roads. The windows would be rolled all the way down, letting the wind hit your faces. If you weren't close by to any residential areas, he would blast music as well. You were also allowed to smoke in Niki's car, which was not preferred but he allowed it.

Driving with him was so much fun that by the end of the drive you were all tired out. Enough to make you fall asleep as soon as you were home. Niki came over to your side of the car, opening your door for you. He walked you into your apartment and even tucked you into bed. His sweetness warmed your heart. Before leaving, Niki made sure to close the blinds to darken your room. He knew you hated how bright the city was at night.

"Get some sleep, beautiful. You deserve it." He said, wiping stray hairs from your face. He leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead before turning to leave. Not long after Niki left, your eyelids felt heavy. Now you could finally get some sleep.

427 notes · View notes

placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 9 months

Text

Reign down on me - Part 5

Pairing: Ghost x Hybrid!reader (eventual poly!141)

No use of y/n or mention of gender/race

Summary: Reader is a wolf hybrid in a world that treats them like second class citizens, given a horrible start in life after being thrown into the military with no preparation. After years of struggle, they're finally taken away from their base by Ghost, now a permanent member of taskforce 141 reader struggles to come to terms with the fact that perhaps there's a life there for them - if only they reach out and accept it.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, Angst, abuse mentions, self doubt, violent scenes

-🐺-

You fought back a sneeze, eyes going teary as your body pathetically fought the sand that had risen and invaded the wind. Suddenly you were finding yourself wishing for the ridiculous glasses that Ghost and the rest of the boys had been wearing earlier. Though you recognised that even if you had some of those monstrosities, it’d do you no good by that point. There was barely enough light to see by, the little half moon above was winking down and barely casting much of a glow over the night sky.

Price had dragged you all into a briefing room earlier that day and gave you all the run down on a new target, Razin, a man suspected of manufacturing bombs for the militia you were after. From there you were shown pictures of him, raising your brows at his scrawny features, and given a little intel about the town you were now stalking through. Even at the time you’d quietly groaned at the mention of the little desert town, you hated having to put up with the sand getting caught in your fur and eyes, not to mention how it made it so much more difficult to scent things as well.

The only benefit of the place was that the houses were small and usually that meant that there wouldn't be very much to sweep. That is if it weren’t built over a tunnel or extensive secret basement, which Price was heavily theorising could be a possibility.

From what you’d been shown it was only supposed to be two floors tall, with a roof that allowed for people to be positioned on top of it, set against the backdrop of the rocky hills beyond. It was close to the outskirts of town but still enclosed by other houses, positioned on the side that crept nearest to the small river that snaked nearby before disappearing into the rocky outcrops beyond. It would’ve been a sweet little place if it weren’t owned by the chef boyardee of bombs.

“Y’good, Pup?” Ghost murmured through the comms.

You looked over at the spot you knew he was positioned at, secreted away on the balcony to the right of you with his rifle, and huffed out a breath. Define ‘good’, you thought. It’d been a while since you’d been so far away from him. Now that you’d been hiding out by the open window for a few hours at least, you’d been blasted with sand and bored to death enough to make you want to cling desperately onto your handler’s leg and beg him to go home.

“Affirmative,” you whispered back instead.

“Good. We’ve got movement on the road outside of town - you two might be set to move soon, so get ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you answered.

You rolled your tired shoulders and looked over at Soap, noting that his dark eyes were still flitting from the target location and to you, watching carefully like a fretful horse. He still looked barely more comfortable left alone with you than when you first arrived. The man had been none too pleased when Ghost explained his plan on arrival, frowning when he was told about your little team up. Couldn’t be helped when Soap was the best equipped to deal with explosives and someone had to play sniper and keep watch.

Of course Soap had continued to train with you in the week leading up to then, slowly getting better at not flinching whenever you got close to him. However he’d never had to be around you without Ghost as a buffer yet. Now that it was just you both in the small room across from the house, he was the most tense that you’d ever seen him. Not that he was trying to be obvious about it, he clearly felt he was being sly with his darting looks and slow sighs. For that you gave him some slack.

“I’m thinking the window on the right side is the best entry point for me,” you said, looking meaningfully across at him. “I can sweep the first floor while you go around to the side door and I can make sure it's unlocked for you.”

“You wanna go in alone?” Soap questioned, narrowing his eyes at the house.

“It’s what war dogs are for,” you shrugged. “No point waiting for you to come in with me, I can get in and check the place out quietly before you come clomping in.”

“I don’t clomp,” Soap snorted, giving you a withering look.

“Sure, tell that to all your heavy gear and your big boots. Trust me, if I go in and get a feel for the place then I can tell who or what we need to watch out for before we go sniffing out the target.”

“And you say ‘What’ meaning?” he questioned.

“Other hybrids, bombs, guns…etcetera,” you listed, shifting your sights to the window you’d pointed out.

“You can tell all that just from going in and getting a whiff of the front room?” he asked dryly.

“Well I can’t give exact information, but I can give a good guess. It’s just like when we’ve been training, if you let me get ahead of you then I can check the place out first and let you know what you’re up against. That’s how I keep myself useful.”

“Ghost, you good with that?” Soap asked doubtfully, frowning over at the balcony from the corners of your vision.

“The house has been quiet enough,” Ghost noted. “If Pup wants to go in first, I trust their judgement.”

“Pup’s way it is then,” Soap grunted, almost absolving himself of anything that might happen. “I’ll wait for you to open the door, furball.”

You nodded your head, forcing down your instinct to growl, keeping your focus on the window instead. You’d show him who was a fucking furball.

This was it. It wasn’t lost on you that this job would prove to the team that you could be an asset - not just a stupid wolf that ploughed through training exercises. Someone that could be used as an effective tool if given the chance.

This was your chance. You anxiously ran your hands down your vest, breathing in measured lungfuls of air while you took stock of your inventory and grounded yourself. There were three knives held securely in the right side, new ones that Ghost had gotten for you ahead of the mission, and a small first aid kit and canteen stashed in the main pockets on your left. You were wearing your gloves, and your ear protection was on and looped round your ears, the rubber circlets had thankfully stopped feeling as aggravating against your fur now that they’d been on for a few hours. They always pressed up so uncomfortably against your helmet, though it was always better to face a little discomfort than being killed by a shot you might’ve avoided.

“The car’s approaching the building, this is it.”

The old guard troupe would be coming out and a new one would be entering, however as the intelligence operatives had noted in their previous findings, the 2am group would never get to their posts on time. They'd opt instead to routinely drink and talk shit on the roof, presumably thinking that Eugene wouldn’t know about it, and would stick around for roughly a half hour before sluggishly making their way to where they should be - giving you and Soap time to get in, search for your target and hopefully get out before anyone was any the wiser.

You heard the engine grumbling through the winding streets long before it reached the other side of the house, but as soon as the headlights illuminated the street over, they cut almost instantly with the noise. Doors slammed and snide voices carried out into the night, mingling together in two distinct groups, one set growly and tired and the others playful and light. It was impossible to make out exactly what they were saying, but you were sure that the group leaving were probably being very obvious about how happy they were to be getting the fuck out.

“G’on, Pup,” Ghost murmured. “Make me proud.”

You shook your head and paid no more mind to the group on the other side, you were going to move forward out of view of them anyway. With Ghost’s encouragement strengthening your confidence, you were eager to press on. You nodded your head toward Soap as a ‘see you in there’ gesture and jumped out the window, stealing your way through the street and into the next window ahead. It was easy for you to spring up, tilting your tail a little to the left so that it wouldn’t smack against the frame.

As soon as you were inside you spotted the dancing shadows of the men toward the front of the building and found a decent hiding spot behind a side wall to wait in so that the new group of guards could pass by you. Your tail swished idly as you waited for them to come in and your ears twitched, listening out and rotating like little satellites as you took in your surroundings. The livingroom and kitchen were all one room, but there was a hallway to the bottom left that would allow entry into the house and up to the stairs beyond.

The guard opened the door before long, letting the cool air breathe a sigh into the house, and luckily they trudged up the stairs in short order. Their steps were muffled and soft, attempting to be light so that their boss wouldn’t be alerted. You heard them all the same. Your ears could pick up so much more than any of theirs could, which means you knew the exact moment you were safe to launch yourself to the other side of the room and get the door for Soap. He raised his brows at you when you made a sweeping motion with your hand to welcome him in.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” he whispered. “How many guests we got?”

“We got about six men tonight I think. No hybrids - you’ll be glad to know,” you said just as quietly, grinning when you caught his guilty wince. “Can smell the explosives, think Price was right on his basement theory, they don’t seem like they’re upstairs.”

“Y’hear that Ghost?” Soap said, purposefully looking away from you.

“Copy. I’ll keep an eye on the guards, you two track down that sly bastard,” Ghost answered, growly voice tickling your ears.

“Lead the way the way then, Pup.”

You nodded and lifted your head in the air, getting a good feel for the scent trail then turned toward the hall. The plastics clung at your nose and tugged you toward the stairs, but you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that you needed to get below. Every instinct was telling you that you needed to go there, that someone’s steps had passed over them, but they hadn’t ascended.

A soft growl tore itself from you. You needed to get closer to the source. You knelt down and took a tentative sniff of the floor, the steps creaked lowly like a clearing throat as you shifted your weight onto them. Bingo.

“The fuck are you doin’?” Soap hissed.

You tilted your head up at him and smiled sweetly.

“The nose knows,” you shrugged.

“What’re you on about?”

Soap’s eyes were so wide you thought he might explode. You would’ve giggled if you weren’t conscious of how much noise you’d made already. No, it was important to try to be as quiet as possible in those next few seconds.

You hooked your fingers onto the first step and pulled up, huffing out a breath as they turned out to be heavier than expected. Though in seconds the first three steps came away and rose up, revealing a concealed stairway below - leading down to the dingy basement. The smell continued through the shadows, air thick with that heavy plastic smell.

“Fuck me,” Soap breathed. “You can smell secret entrances as well?”

“Oh yeah, they always smell fishy,” you smirked.

“Jesus. Ghost’s humour is rubbin’ off on you,'' he groaned.

He had a point. Normally you weren’t one for pointless chatter, but you were in your element that day and after training so much with your new team you felt more relaxed than usual. Of course you weren’t operating under the assumption that Soap would be diving in front of bullets for you, but at the very least he had your back.

“We’re heading underground, Ghost. See ya on the other side,” Soap noted, patting you on the shoulder just like Ghost normally would.

You felt your tail give a slight swish against the backs of your legs.

“Copy that, Sergeant,” Ghost confirmed.

Ghost was quiet compared to usual, focused on his targets you figured. It spurred you on to focus too. You quietly slipped forward down the stairway, nose raised in the air as you proceeded. Soap followed at your rear, quietly closing the stairway and bathing you both in almost pitch darkness. There was only a little light to see by, its source hidden round the corner. Things smelled and sounded clear, but nonetheless you braced, ready to duck and dive if you needed to.

When you turned the corner however, there was no need for any quick exits. There was just another hallway with some candles stuck in hastily hammered in holders, the flames lazily flickering as the stale air kept them standing bolt upright. You frowned and pressed ahead, boots softly pressing into the runner carpets until you almost hit a chain, only just avoiding it as you’d caught the shine of it in the corner of your eye.

You stuck a hand out to your left and kept Soap behind you, narrowing your eyes so that he’d know to be quiet. He caught on fast, not saying a word as you took another careful sniff around the air. Among the scent of burning wicks and aged dust there was something else, something earthy. There was a low droning sound as well now that you focused, a bassy groan that drifted through the walls.

Hybrid, you mouthed. Attack dog.

Soap’s eyes narrowed and he raised the pistol he’d unholstered from his side, the silencer reaching out into the hallway and past your body. You stepped off to the right and allowed him to push forward and round the corner, watching with dull interest as he shot the wolf man that had been resting by the next candle. After a soft pop sounded the man slumped off to the side and left a smear of crimson as he went, eventually thudding to the ground and rattling the chain once he reached the floor.

“That’ll be the alarm system then,” you whispered.

“Just him? There’s not anymore?” Soap asked, looking round warily for other signs of life.

“Not that I can detect,” you said carefully, taking another cautious breath of air. “He’s in pretty bad shape though, probably been kept chained down here a while. Can’t imagine Razin would want the hassle of having to get by more than one hungry mouth on the way in.”

“Aye…probably not,” Soap said, lingering doubt heavy on his voice.

You turned and smiled to yourself, again wondering why the Sergeant was so afraid of your kind. He had a gun, two guns in fact - one strapped to his back. You and yours only had teeth and claws to defend yourself with. Every fight you went into was one that tipped your scales ever closer to death, yet he walked around sometimes like he was standing with the grim reaper himself when he found himself with you.

There was no point getting caught up over it though. You advanced forward again and rounded another corner, this time greeted by muffled voices and sounds of implements working away. You getting closer. You were overwhelmed by the scent of a new person, baring your teeth at the thick coal like scent. It flooded your system and set your vision alight, peripherals shrinking as your wolf instincts came rushing forward. You were ready to attack, ears pinned back and tail sinking low.

“Pick somethin’ up?” Soap murmured, voice sounding so loud in your sensitive ears you wanted to snarl at him.

However, knowing your target was so close by, you silently turned instead and let Soap get a good look at your face. He seemed to visibly pale when his eyes met yours, but quickly remembered himself, raising his gun and holding his position behind you. Had you been more lucid, you’d have congratulated him for not flying off like a scared bird.

However, you walked forward instead, sticking close to the walls and keeping yourself on high alert. It wasn’t long until you were greeted with the sight of a new entryway and the drowning scent of explosive materials. Your entire head was on fire, every little instinct screamed danger, but you followed your training and ignored the rising need to get away.You peered around instead, widening your eyes as you saw Razin right in front of you. He was working away with his back turned, too distracted by whoever he was speaking to on his tablet to be able to pay any attention to either of you.

Soap slunk next to you and looked around, mouth set in a grim line as he sized up the target. All around him, littering his workshop were multiple prototypes, tons of different kinds of bombs that Soap would know far more about than you. The only thing you knew for sure was that you’d have to be quiet, take down the target as fast as possible - that was the only way to know none of them would go off.

Soap gently patted your head to get your attention. Wait, he mouthed.

You wanted to snap at him, mouth watering in anticipation of a bite, eyes narrowing as his hand drew close to your throat. However you wrenched yourself away from him and breathed out as quietly as you could, anxiously glancing between Soap and Razin as you waited for your ok.

It took every ounce of self control just to stand there. Soap didn’t look like he was in any rush to let you move. He listened to the conversation instead, jaw set and head tilted while he kept you suspended in the shadows, right on the precipice of an attack. You just wanted to go, needed to fly through the room and tear at something.

The conversation between Razin and the deep voiced stranger on the ipad drew to a close before you lost it, ending with Razin cursing before swatting at the tablet and sending it flying. You followed the movement with your eyes and turned to Soap, almost barking with glee when he tightly nodded and gave you the go ahead to go capture your target.

You had no clue what curses Razin was shouting when you landed on top of him, but you could hazard a guess that they were some of the worst profanities he could muster. His face scrunched in fury and his whole body flailed as he fought to get you off of him, but no matter what he did, he couldn’t shake you off.

Your main priority was ensuring his hands couldn’t reach for anything and set something off, so as you secured yourself over him, you bit harshly into one of his arms and growled when he swatted at you with his other hand. Before he could do any real damage Soap came to your aid and wrenched Razin’s free hand behind his back, securing it in a cuff before taking the other arm from you and settling the other cuff round that one.

“Release,” Soap commanded, voice wavering as he caught your eyes.

Your vision was almost completely darkened, indicating to the last sane shred of you that you’d gone nearly completely feral. Every limb in your body shook and your back felt like a lightning rod as the familiar instinctual tremble worked its way through you. Maddox’s voice rattled in your ear, the ghost of him ever present when you found yourself losing to the wolf. You are an attack dog, you will bite, you will kill, this is the only way to survive. Bite mutt, kill! Do what you’re meant for, dog!

“Pup,” Soap said carefully, trying to maintain eye contact. “You good?”

You growled in response, watching with displeasure as Razin continued to struggle beneath Soap. You wanted to put a stop to it. Not part of the mission, you reminded yourself, internally struggling with the angry beast inside your head. Need this one alive.

“Pup,” Soap said again, voice a firm roar.

“Yes,” you snarled, shaking your head and backing off. “M’fine. Lets go.”

Kill, mutt!

You shook your head again, walking forward and dispersing any last traces of Maddox, fighting to regain control of yourself. Normally you weren’t so prone to falling back so badly on the wolf instincts, as much as you often did use them to get in the right headspace you were usually still in control of yourself.

Now you felt untethered. It felt as though any threat to you and the team had to be treated with the utmost hostility. And Razin was a threat. It had you frowning back at Soap, watching as he struggled to force Razin forward while his feet tried to plant against the floor. You growled when Soap was knocked back by him.

Protect. Mine. Kill threat.

You almost stopped in your tracks when the thought hit you. For once it wasn’t Maddox’s voice spurring you and forcing you to do terrible things, this wasn’t any outside voice at all. The low growl that rushed through your head like a chemical injection was your own. Normally your instincts kicked in for self preservation,your body doing whatever it needed to in order to get through a job alive. Now they were directed at Soap, more specifically, towards ending the struggling and kicking from the man he was holding.

“I’m going on ahead,” you said, voice pitching up as you rushed forward.

If you spent anymore time looking over at Razin and his flailing feet you were going to kill him. It wasn’t a speculation, it was a certainty. One that had you wide eyed and running terrified down the hall.

You reached the top of the stairs in record time, pausing at the closed exit to listen out for anyone that might be coming down on the steps above.

“Ghost, we’ve secured the target. Are we good to exfil?” you rasped, hearing Soap cursing as he manoeuvred the hallways a lot slower than you did.

“The men are finishing the last of their drinks, one of them went down already. You’ll need to take him out and get out of there as fast and quiet as you can,” Ghost supplied, voice level as usual.

“I can manage that. Soap, I’ll go find Razin’s buddy. You good to get him out?” you asked, looking back into the darkness for your answer.

“I’m almost through the hall, fashioned a little gag for the bastard so I reckon we’ll be good on the staying ‘quiet’ part. Go ahead, Pup, clear to move,” Soap answered, voice echoing through the halls and on your comms.

“Alright then.”

-🐺-

You were shaking terribly by the time you made it back to transport. Razin was properly secured now, hooded and gagged before being taken away to another section of the hold with an armed guard. He was safely out of view from your stabbing glare. Meanwhile Ghost and Soap ushered you toward the opposite corner, serious looks in both their eyes as they exchanged low whispers.

Your head was filled with cloying fog. All you wanted to do, for whatever reason, was to get close to Soap, but you feared him retaliating too much to be able to do it. You wanted to make sure he was alright, but even you weren’t sure why you were so obsessed about it. It was Soap afterall, he was a highly trained SAS soldier, he was fine.

Not to mention, when he’d seen your blood covered face come into view behind him in the safehouse, he’d almost screamed bloody murder. The last thing he needed was you to go barreling up to him. You swore you could hear his heart thumping even when you stood just across from him, it beat so loudly. It hadn’t eased much since then and getting to the plane either.

Mine. Safe? Hurt.

Your chest held a small flame, body keeping it roaring as you anxiously wanted to check Soap over. You could smell his blood, could smell the copper tang that was corrupting the soft sage of his usual scent. It burned at your nose and caused you to whine when you got close. Ghost’s hand prevented you from getting nearer.

“Pup,” Ghost said softly. “Pup, can you look at me?”

You tore your eyes away from Soap and dutifully looked up at Ghost. His face was still covered by his balaclava and his eyes were darkened from the black paint. You huffed as you focused on his pupils, taking in the spiced citrus and the sound of his infectiously steady pulse.

Your panting breaths eased.

“You did good, Pup. Kept Soap safe and took down Razin and got that guard. You did a very good job,” Ghost rumbled, petting between your ears as he normally did. “Can you come sit down for me?”

You nodded, feeling almost in a trance as you complied with his request. You sat on the solid bench next to your Lieutenant, stopping to anxiously look back at Soap, until Ghost firmly gripped your jaw and tilted your head back to him. You whined.

“Shh, Pup. Shhh. Just give me your attention for a sec, ok?”

You gave him a little growl, but as soon as the look in his eyes hardened, you hushed up immediately. Have to be good for him, you thought to yourself. You closed your eyes for a second, and continued to work on your breathing, calming down with each evening heartbeat. Ghost watched you the entire time, never letting his gaze wander even for a second.

“Good, Pup,” Ghost praised after a moment, making sure to pet your back and over your ears. “That’s my good Pup, listening so well. Now…Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

You froze at his question. Biting your lip when you knew he wasn’t going to let you get away with a lie.

“Soap’s bleeding,” you said simply, finally letting your eyes drop down to the floor. “Want to know he’s ok.”

Ghost tipped your chin back up with his hands. You could see his eyebrows were raised under the mask. You desperately wanted to look away again, but Ghost wouldn’t allow it. Soap snorted from behind your shoulder, he was still standing away from you both. His nervous steps across the metal were like their own heartbeat in your ears.

“I’m fine. The fucker bashed my nose in while he was strugglin’,” Soap explained. “A wee bit blood is nothing to get so upset over.”

You whined. You already knew logically that he was fine. It wasn’t your logical mind that was worked up though. Otherwise you’d be able to actually explain the problem to Ghost. However, as it was, you had no idea what the problem really was. All you knew was that Soap had been bleeding and you were absolutely beside yourself with worry over it.

Ghost seemed to have an idea though. He nodded to himself and petted your head for good measure, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder before he went to his pack. You watched his movements, cataloguing every step he took, trying to work out what he was doing. Sometimes when you got too worked up you’d get sent for a sleep, injected with a cocktail of drugs to force some calm into you.

Was Ghost going to knock you out?

You watched carefully as he pulled what looked like a bottle of water and a cloth from his bag instead. He untwisted the cap and carefully wetted the cloth, not letting too much liquid flood the material before he turned back to you.

“Stay still for me, darlin’. Keep your mouth closed,” he ordered.

You frowned, not sure what he was about to do until he began wiping at your face, smoothing the cloth over your skin until it turned red with the other men’s blood. He was cleaning you. The realisation had you untensing yourself and for a few moments longer you sat still and let Ghost work his magic until your face felt clean and light. All the grime was gone, your skin felt a little raw, but still it was better than before.

“Soap, you trust me don’t you?” Ghost said, putting the bottle down and looking over your shoulder.

The pacing behind you stopped.

“Not when you bring it up like that,” Soap retorted.

Ghost rolled his eyes.

“Come sit down.”

“Why?” Soap asked suspiciously.

“Just come.”

It took a second, but soon Soap complied, coming to rest beside Ghost. Ghost wasn’t someone to argue with, even to other humans. You saw Soap now, pupils dilating so quickly that you could feel your eyes actively adjusting to shut out light. Oh no, not again, you thought. You were losing yourself to instinct, wanting to surge forward and get closer - wrap yourself around him like a scarf. You looked away, trying to lessen his horror (and yours) as he shifted back a bit to get some distance.

“Soap, you’re not gonna like this…but please trust me,” Ghost said, bringing you close to his armoured chest. “I need to ask you to do something.”

You gratefully wrapped yourself round him, only barely able to get your arms fully round his vest so that you could hug into the man like he was your only source of warmth. It helped. Fully shutting your eyes against Ghost’s black tac gear and trying to distract yourself from the man next to him was the next best thing to whatever your instincts were screaming at you to do.

“Spit it out,” Soap said through gritted teeth.

“I need you to take Pup and let them…well essentially give you a hug,” he said awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to ask.

Soap snorted out a dark laugh and you were sure if you looked up you’d see a disgusted expression.

“I don’t think nows the time for having a fucking laugh, LT.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if I thought you were in any danger,” Ghost said, voice taking on an edge as his body stiffened under you. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important either, I don’t want to hurt you. You know that.”

“Ghost, look at their fuckin’ eyes, I don’t see why-”

Soap stopped before he could finish, huffing through his sentence like he’d been asked to diffuse a bomb with five seconds on the clock. Your ears flicked as you picked up a new sound filling the space, something soft and forlorn that rattled through you.

Your own sobs, you eventually realised.

You were losing yourself again, you hadn’t even realised you'd started crying. It became more than evident as the hot tears drifted down your cheeks.

“Pup, it’s ok,” Ghost said gently, stroking your ears. “Shh, you’re ok. Why’re you cryin’?”

You shook your head, head feeling dizzier than if you’d spun in an endless circle. Words were too much. They were too human.

“Ey?” Ghost continued, smoothing his hand over your back. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head again. Your body lurching with a growing dread.

“If I-” Soap began, freeing on his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “If I take Pup…will it help…this?”

Ghost took a pause, trying to coax you from where you were squishing your face under his chin.

“I reckon so,” Ghost said.

Soap sighed, pushing you to cry harder. The only rational part left of you couldn’t be sure of why his reticence was so upsetting to you, but then again you weren’t even sure what had caused any of the upset in the first place. So many men had been hurt while you were with them, and most of the time you couldn't give a shit - the rest of the time you were happy even to watch them bleed or sometimes cry through some of the worst injuries. Now Soap had a bit of a nosebleed and you were practically choking as if you couldn’t take on air anymore.

You couldn’t make sense of it.

You especially couldn’t make sense of it when Soap switched places with Ghost and sat at your back, ending your little crying fit when he took you from your handler and held you to his front. Your sobs quietly retreated into your throat and your tears turned off like a tap had been yanked. Instead of breaking down, you focused on burrowing into his chest. Your body completely calming when you picked out the sound of his heartbeat and got closer to the fresh scent of sage, nuzzling your nose just shy of his collarbones.

“What the hell…?” Soap breathed, body tensing as you finished getting comfortable.

It took a little moment until he was able to slowly relax his muscles. His arms came first, settling around you, and then his thighs slowly dipped down. His pulse was the last to die down, beating insistently against your ears like a timpani drum before it gently became more of a wing beat.

You sighed contentedly and felt yourself getting very tired, closing your eyes just before your vision fully faded back into focus again.

“You have no idea how much you’ve just helped,” Ghost said gratefully, voice sounding distant as you continued to float into what felt like a different plane of existence.

“Are you gonna tell me how I helped?” Soap asked, voice sounding insistent as his heartbeat picked up again. “You tellin’ me that whenever one of us gets hurt that pup’s gonna need a bloody emotional support buddy to get through it?”

Ghost laughed throatily.

“Not likely,” he assured, leaning forward and stroking your back. “Learnt about this way back in training, but I’ve never seen it so strong so quickly - Pup’s pack bonded to us, but its not a secure bond right now. I’m guessing they got upset because they thought you being hurt and keeping your distance was like a rejection. Basically like you saying that they don’t need to be concerned about you getting hurt because you’re not part of the pack.”

“Well how was I supposed to kn-”

“You weren’t,” Ghost soothed, calming Soap down before you could properly stir again.

You hummed against Soap’s chest and frowned at his quickening heartbeat, attempting to slow it with a gentle nuzzle. Though it didn’t do much to calm him, so you soon stopped and found that worked better instead.

It was only when you went still that they resumed talking again.

“So what does pack bonding mean?” Soap asked, sounding unsure as he shifted around you. “Pup doesn’t even know that much about me and now we’re in this- a pack.”

Ghost chuckled at that, the material of his clothing loudly buzzing at your ears as he shook.

“It’s not like a forced marriage Johnny, you don’t have to sound so frightened, it mostly just means their instincts’ll tell em’ to keep us safe. It’s probably down to all the protection work Price has had them doing while we’ve been in the beginning stages. Pup’s had a rough life, no ones ever cared for em’ like we have, even in the short time that’s been. Even when you’ve been handling Pup like a feinting nun, you’ve probably been nicer than most people they’ve met.”

“Fuck you, feintin’ nun,” Soap spat, laughing despite himself. “You told me the other day I was doin’ well!”

“You have been doing well. Better than I thought you would,” Ghost said softly, a smile weaving its way through his voice.

“Well enough to be in a pack apparently,” Soap huffed, absentmindedly running his hand over your back.

You practically purred in pleasure at that, letting out a low happy sound in your throat. Soap startled, but still held onto you, hand freezing in place however. He clearly didn’t understand that the noise you were making was supposed to be something nice.

“Why’re they growling at me?” Soap squawked. “What’d I do?”

“Relax! That’s not growling, not per se,” Ghost laughed, “It’s a good growl. Mean’s they’re happy. Untwist your knickers, you don’t wanna work Pup up again.”

“Fuckin hell…pack bonding…happy growls. What’s next? My poor heart could’ve done with a warning before having to hunt a terrorist and deal with all this,” Soap huffed. “And you say all this is because we’re nice? How bad has a life gotta be for a hybrid to wanna hug me? How’s this even helping?”

“It’s not about the hug itself. Being close like that is just letting them hear your heartbeat and get your scent. Pup knows you’re ok because you feel and smell healthy - that’s all they needed. It doesn’t help that the Branhaven arseholes condition them to surrender to their instincts on the field. It’s good when it comes to hunting people down, doesn’t help so much when they get all panicky because one of their own’s been bleeding.”

“And they don’t train that out?”

“Wouldn’t have had to before. Like I said - we’re the only ones that’ve been nice to em’,” Ghost said, voice quietening when he said the next part. “We’re the only team that’s ever applied for guardianship in the entire time they’ve been working. They got stuck in the military when they were ten and got signed away under a DNN contract. Even though it’s only been a week, we’re all Pup has. It’s only natural for them to feel like this.”

“What’s a DNN contract?” Soap asked.

“Do not notify,” Ghost said, the words making you whine softly as you thought back to when it was first explained to you. “Means Pup’s parents didn’t want contact after they dropped them off. No phone calls or letters from them, no contact, no notice if they ever get killed or captured.”

“That’s fuckin’ bullshit,” Soap growled.

“Mhmm,” Ghost hummed, stroking his hand over your back again. “Such a sweet Pup too. Got us to be good to you now. Our good Pup, huh?”

You whined in agreement and settled into Soap fully, happily letting yourself drift off to thoughts of citrus and sage. Theirs, the raspy inner voice whispered - just before you could fully lose the battle to sleep. Mine. Theirs. Mine!

-🐺-

The next day, after the debrief had reached its conclusion, Soap asked Ghost if he could have five minutes with you. You’d bitten your lip, anticipating that he might want to chew you out for you’d acted with him, and sadly nodded when Ghost said he’d be waiting across the corridor in Price’s office for you.

As soon as the door had clicked closed, you waited for the shouting to begin and wrapped your arms tightly round yourself, as if to keep your heart in your chest. Soap didn’t roar or hit the desk, or make any moves you’d been waiting for, not right away at least you’d figured. No, he gently tugged the seat in front of you out from the table and sat down across from you.

You peered over at him and felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, still not completely past the fact you’d insisted on curling round him like a little lap dog. Things were a bit foggy from that day still. Ghost had had to explain on the way back to his that you’d succumbed to your instincts and Soap has helped you calm down, but sure enough once he had, you remembered what you’d done and felt deathly self-conscious. No matter how much Ghost had tried to insist that it was ok, you’d gone to bed that night without speaking another word.

“Look, um…I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” Soap said nervously, arching his body down so that he could speak on your level.

“You’re sorry?” you repeated, not sure you’d heard right.

Did he mean to ask for an apology from you instead? You had no idea what he could possibly need to apologise for. As far as you were concerned his behaviour had been completely justified, you had acted like a crazy person. It wasn’t normal to need to sit and sniff people and hug them after they’d suffered a very common injury in the line of work you were in. Yet he still wanted to apologise to you?

“Yeah,” Soap breathed, pursing his lips before he could explain himself. “I’ve been treating you like a threat when you haven’t deserved it. It’s not acceptable, I’m a grown man and I’ve been acting like a scared kid around you. So I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Uh…” you trailed, not really sure how to respond. “Thanks?”

It wasn’t often that anyone apologised to you, especially not when they hadn’t even done anything that you deemed bad. For that reason, you were left scrabbling for something to say and unfortunately left wanting, letting the sentiment of gratitude hang in the air instead. Things were even more awkward now.

“You don’t need to worry about yesterday as well…Ghost said you were feelin’ awkward and I-”

“It won’t happen again,” you assured, swallowing a thick lump in your throat. “I’ll get better control of myself.”

“Well, you weren’t really yourself, so…It’s fine. You had your reasons.”

It wasn’t fine. However you didn’t really want to disagree with him, so instead you nodded tightly and looked away from Soap instead.

“I know you have your reasons for how you are with me,” you said softly. “Something to do with your scar, right?”

“How’d you…?” Soap trailed off, rubbing his thumb along the cracked keloid on his chin.

He almost seemed to realise the answer to his own question as he did it. You nodded when his eyes widened. It was almost comical really, he seemed like he was caught doing something awful when it wasn’t even a big deal. You were used to people being distrustful of you, had had your own parents accuse you of being ready to turn into a rogue beast at any moment. Being feared wasn’t anything new.

“It’s fine,” you shrugged.

“No, look…You should know - I don’t think you’re gonna do anything like this to me and even then that’s not really why I- It’s not- ugh fuck it,” he sighed, body growing heavy as he sat back in his chair. “My little brother was jumped by a hybrid when we were young. He was playin’ football in the street and ended up kicking the ball too far down the road. I was supposed to be watching him and I was too busy chattin’ to my friends and- well all I heard was him screamin’ bloody murder and when I got there he was knocked out and his arm had nearly been chewed clean off. I managed to get the wolf- i mean him off my brother, but then he turned and scratched me- tried to bite- I… well anyway - I got him away and my brother ended up in hospital for a long time and it was a really fuckin’ dark time for my family.”

You watched his impassioned expressions as he told his story and nodded along, wincing as he tried to use the right words to try and explain to you what had happened. He didn’t need to explain it to you, not really. He looked down right pained as he remembered back to what must have been an awful day for him.

Now you both sat in the heavy silence of the now cavernous room.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you said awkwardly.

“I didn’t tell you that because I wanted you to feel sorry for me,” he said in a reassuring tone. “I just wanted you to know I have some shit to work on, and I that I am trying to work on it. I don’t want you to feel any less a part of the team because of how I act. You’re just as much a part of the 141 as I am, don’t doubt it for a second.”

Your ears pinned flat to your head and your chest swelled with emotion. The drum inside your chest beat quickly out of time and you struggled for a moment, feeling a light tingling at the back of your neck. Part of you tried to convince yourself that it was all a mean trick, but just one look into his soft blue eyes told you that he was genuine. He really didn’t want you to feel bad.

“Thanks, Soap,” you murmured, fighting the lump in your throat just to speak. “That’s really kind of you.”

“Just the truth,” he grunted, trying to inconspicuously clear the emotion from his voice. “You should probably go get Ghost now, yeah? You’ve probably got some runnin’ around to do.”

You broke at that, nodding and letting your eyes clear of the growing wetness. Soap had only in the past few days started referring to your training as ‘running around’, and it was a fair way to sum it up, but no less insulting. Playfully insulting at least, the kind of thing teammates would say.

It made you smile then.

“Yeah…” you laughed, slowly rising from your chair. “Best get to it.”

#simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #Ghost #mw2 #ghost x reader #Hybrid!reader #reign down on me

771 notes · View notes

adams-angels · 7 months

Note

Can you do one where Adam sees you as a place holder for his wives and doesn’t respect you ever but when you want to leave him he realizes just how much he truly cares about you and then like over course of a period of time (your choice) we forgive him :)

Thank you for listening ❤️

This was a fun one! I love a bit of angst. Can't get enough of the stuff!!

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Reader POV because I got a similar ask which I'll write as Adams POV

Used

It's all I ever asked for. To be respected. To be loved. It wasn't fair. Why did I have to be alone and wait for him while he was out galavanting around the heavens! How was it fair? He'd only ever sees me for sex. He wouldn't reply to my texts but god fucking forbid I miss one of his texts.

Or in this case ignore. I've had enough. I'm not being second choice anymore! So I texted him "we're done." I know it's cowardly to "break up" via text but it's not even like we were dating! I placed my phone down on my side table. I should of put it on silent. Why didn't I put it on silent.

Curling up on my bed, tears flowing from my eyes as I hear the vibration on my phone. He's either calling or text bombing me. I pick up my phone to see several missed called and about 20 texts already.

You think you're better than me?!

You're nothing!

I'm Adam!! I can get ANYONE I FUCKING WANT

YOU THINK I NEED YOU?!

I sob.

I must of fallen asleep during my crying of self pity. I stretch out my arms as I sit up only to see Adam at the doorway. I scream in surprise, falling off my bed hitting my phone off the nightstand in the process. "Adam?! What the hell are you doing in my apartment?!" I yell at him.

He stands there, looming over me. "You want to leave me?" He asked, never had I heard him so emotionless. I tut as I stand up. "You say that like you cared." I retort, picking my phone up from the floor. "Don't look at that." He took a step towards me, reaching out but I pulled away. "Why? You next me nasty shit? Telling me I'm worthless? That I was lucky to -" he interrupted, "y/n, I'm sorry. I just want to know what I did wrong."

I can't help but sigh, collapsing on my bed, hair covering my face. "I just... I can't... I don't want to be a place holder for you." I can hear Adam moving closer, his wings dragging across the floor. "What are you talking about?" One of his hands land on mine. "I don't want to be someone you just use until you find someone better." His fingers interlace with mine as his other hand brushes my hair from my face revealing my teary eyes. "I just want to be... I don't know, Adam."

His hand cups my face and I just can't help but melt into his touch. "Be mine?" I shrug in response. Clearing his throat he clarifies, "no, I'm asking. Be mine." I can't help but look at him like an idiot, my heart skipping a beat. "What?" He recoiled. "I mean, maybe we could start again? Like.. properly?"

"You mean like.. date? What happened to "I don't date. I'm the first man. I have the first penis ever bla bla!"" He stares at me with a blank expression. "I don't sound like that." "You do." Adam brow furrows in what I can only assume is annoyance. "Whatever, y/n, please. I can't lose you. I don't want to lose you. Please don't leave me." Never have I seen him look so weak. So... Small? "I'll have to think about it." I can't tell if he feels relieved or worried. Maybe both. "H-how long will that take?" He asked with a hint of desperation.

"I don't know, Adam." I shrug. My words hung in the air. "I really care about you, y/n. You have to believe me, babe." He kissed my hand before releasing it. "Just.. uh... Delete those texts. I didn't mean any of it." I watch as he leaves my apartment. No through the door of course, no, he always had to leave from the balcony. I usually watch as he flies away. But not this time..

It's been about a month since I last spoke to Adam. I've seen him about. Doing his thing. It makes me laugh. When ever he notices me he freezes up. Just last week he was talking to Sera and as soon as he noticed me walk past he just stared. I swear I heard Sera say "earth to Adam."

Today I decided. I head towards his office, walking past several anxious angles. I heard yelling come from inside his office and then something smash. Before I could knock the door swung open and standing before me was a very frustrated Adam. His feathers were literally ruffled. "Y/n?" He was surprised to see me but his expression changed quickly as he remembered in was in the presence of his underlings. "Come in." He stands aside letting you in to his office. It was mess. I mean, I've seen it messy before but this was a whole new level. Documents everywhere, a smashed mug on the floor and coffee stains on the wall. "Bad day?" I commented he grumbled in response. "There are no bad days in heaven."

He slumps down on his chair, watching me as I walk over to his office window, opening it to get some of that heavenly fresh air in. "So... I thought about it." He perks up, sitting straight. "And?"

"and I'm willing to start again. Properly." I don't even get a chance to turn and face him before he's already darted from his chair wrapping me in his arms. "Fuck, thank fucking Christ. Don't do that to me again. Please." His wings surrounded us. "Please, I'm sorry. I'll treat you so much better." "Promise?" "Yes, promise."

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel smut #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam smut

683 notes · View notes

natalievoncatte · 7 months

Text

This was going to happen; it was inevitable the moment that Lena chose this course and began preparing to enact the plan. The timing was the mystery, the where and when. Thinking back on it later, she should have known better. Supergirl liked dramatic entrances, and she liked having Lena to herself when she talked. Surprisingly for someone who flew around in primary colors and smiled cheerfully for the cameras, she knew how to be discreet.

There was a double thud as the stacked heels of Supergirl’s boots touched down on the balcony behind her. Lena didn’t look up from her work. Not for the first time, she wondered if Supergirl used her super-senses to read other people. Lena’s heart sped up when she heard the landing and her breath caught, but she remained calm and smooth when she spoke.

“You may as well come in. We’re on the ninety-sixth floor. I don’t bother locking it.”

The glass door slid quietly on oiled plastic runners, and a gust of chilly night air rolled over Lena’s shoulders, causing her ponytail to slide from its place and dangle down her back. She’d changed earlier out of her power suit and exchanged her tight high ponytail for a loose, comfortable one. She was planning an an all-nighter.

“You should lock the door. There are dangerous people out there. Among other things.”

“If any of them have it in for me, they’re not going to be slowed down much by the balcony door, Supergirl.”

There was a soft sigh behind her. “We need to talk.”

Lena smirked. “Why is that? Are you worried my new car saving machine will pull all the cats out of the trees and out you out of work? I’m still working out all the kinks.”

“Miss Luthor…”

“Speaking of kinks, maybe you could help me out. I’ve got a terrible crick in my neck and could use a super-neck rub.”

“Miss Luthor,”

“Or if you’re not busy, you could run and grab us some takeout. I’m thinking Thai, how about you?”

“Lena!”

Sighing, she turned around, tearing her attention from her work. Supergirl had her arms folded, displaying those impressive muscles of hers, and was looking at Lena with an expression of stern concern, something soft and a little worried in her eyes.

“What’s the occasion, then? Let me guess, someone wants to assassinate me.”

Supergirl sighed and let her arms fall. “You need to take this seriously. Right now, I’m the only friend you’ve got.”

“And why is that?”

Supergirl edged closer, her cape swirling slightly behind her. She put a hand on Lena’s desk and leaned over her.

“Because you’re been buying up every ounce of Kryptonite you can find.”

Her pulse began to race and she fought the urge to sink back from the piercing blue eyes that stared into hers.

“That’s not possible. Your cousin destroyed it all.”

“Not all of it,” said Supergirl. “The DEO keeps some, and there’s some floating around on the black market, usually mistaken for something else.”

“What makes you think that I didn’t just stumble across some? I inherited an extensive collection of art and sculpture, Supergirl, and I’m always adding to it. Ask Kara Danvers. I’m going to display the bulk of the family collection in a new wing at the city museum.”

“Because the DEO identified and tracked dozens of pieces, including the ones you bought,” Supergirl said, quietly. “It’s a way for us to identify threats and see who’s trafficking in it. You moved them through shell companies and had them smuggled through customs. You’re hiding something.”

Lena pushed to her feet, indignant, leaning into the do confrontation. She stabbed a manicured nail into the center of Supergirl’s chest, right into her big S.

“So now you come storming into my office making accusations?”

Supergirl planted her fists on her hips and stood over Lena, glaring down at her.

“I’m on your side. I’m the only one keeping the DEO from arresting you. I want to believe that there’s a benign reason for this, Lena. But you have to give me one. People think you’re a threat.”

Lena stared back at her, studying her features, her expression.

“It won’t do any good to tell you. Your superiors won’t believe me. They’ve been trying to entrap me ever since I took over the company.”

“They’re not my superiors,” Kara snapped. “I work with them. They have resources and support I need.”

Lena crossed her arms and cocked her head. “They also have Kryptonite. You just admitted that.”

“Lena,” Supergirl snapped.

Quickly, she grabbed a random page from her notes and scribbled, are they listening?

Supergirl looked at it briefly, then at Lena, weighing her options.

Then she nodded.

Lena scrawled on the sheet.

I’m making a cure.

Supergirl started, flinching as she read the note. She blinked almost comically.

Can we talk without anyone listening in? Lena wrote.

Supergirl nodded, taking the paper. She slipped the pen out of Lena’s grasp and scrawled, give me five minutes.

“Fine,” said Lena. “Tell your people they can call a judge. I’m sure they’ll have all the proper papers and warrants and court orders and it will all be nice and legal.”

“I don’t want it to be this way,” said Supergirl. “I want to work together with you. I believe in you, Lena.”

“You have a hell of a way of showing it.”

Supergirl huffed, turned, and headed for the balcony, taking off with such force that Lena stumbled back a few steps.

Lena waited, finally moving towards the door to close it, when a folded paper airplane sailed through the opening and came to rest on her desk. She closed the balcony door and grabbed the paper, quickly unfolding it.

They can track my suit. Meet me at the Big Belly on 49th. Leave your phone. Walk. Don’t worry about your safety, I’ll be watching. I’ll be in civilian clothes.

Lena crumpled the note in her pocket. The place Suoergirl meant was a half an hour walk, and Lena was more than a little nervous about walking it at night. So, she grabbed her .357 from her desk drawer and stuffed it in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie, and took her private elevator to the ground floor.

When she walked up on the Big Belly, it was of course closed, dark inside with the chairs up on the tables. Lena tensed when she saw a figure approaching in the dark, much like she was, in joggers and a hoodie.

She relaxed when she saw Kara Danvers hiding in that hood. When they crossed paths, Lena stopped and began walking beside her.

“Supergirl said she would meet me herself,” said Lena. “I’m kind of surprised she sent you, Kara.”

“Keep your voice down,” Kara said, softly. “Follow me.”

Kara led her on a trek through downtown, making Lena rather nervous. This part of the city emptied out after hours and it was close to three in the morning, and they were walking alone on empty streets, finally turning off down an alley between two seemingly random buildings.

There, Kara stopped, and sighed.

“Can you really do it? Can you cure Kryptonite poisoning?”

“Yes,” Lena said, excited. “I think I can. I’m very close. I needed the samples I procured so that I could perfect the process.”

Kara’s shoulders hitched a little. She faced away from Lena, and took a step towards the brick wall in front of her.

“They have a device that your brother created. It can disperse Kryptonite through the entire atmosphere in a few minutes.”

“I’m familiar with it.”

“It’s how they control me. I don’t know where they keep it, only that they have it. If I step out of line, they’ll poison the atmosphere and kill me.”

“Kill you? Kara what are you talking about? You’re not…”

“I told you I’d meet you in civilian clothes. When I wrote the note in your office.”

Lena stumbled back a step, trying to process what she just heard. Kara was talking as if…

She turned around, facing Lena, and stood to her full height, removing her glasses without sweeping back her hood, and met Lena’s gaze.

“But… you’re…”

“Hush,” Kara said, softly. “I’ll explain everything. Right now we need to move and move fast, before they figure out what I’m up to. How fast can you finish your cure?”

“I need a few days and some things from my lab.”

Kara brought her wrist up and spoke into a hidden radio. “Alex, get ready to move. We’ll need to get to Lena’s lab before the DEO does.”

Lena blinked a few times. What the hell was going on?

“I need to get you someplace safe, then I’ll get you up to speed,” said Kara. “Will you come with me?”

Lena’s heart pounded in her chest. “Where?”

“Safety. I promise, I’ll keep you safe. You’re too dangerous to the DEO, Lena. They’re going to move on you, and I had to beg to give you a chance. Tomorrow someone is going to come make you an offer you can’t refuse, and I’m not going to let that happen.”

Lena nodded.

“Alright then. I’m with you. Let’s go.”

Kara nodded.

“Good. Lena Luthor, welcome to the Justice League.”

I had a weird urge to play with the idea of a world where the DEO are a black ops unit that controls Supergirl with the threat of Kryptonite and Lena helps her take them down and save the world. Of course Kara has to be all dramatic about naming the resistance movement.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #screen test ficlet

548 notes · View notes

heich0e · 5 months

Text

suna recently moved into a new place.

the building he's in now is much nicer than the last one he lived in, and in an even better part of town, too—it's a newly built place that's still only half-occupied, leaving him with so few neighbours on his floor that he claims sometimes it feels like he's got the whole building to himself.

living in a new-build (a half-build, technically, since there's still active construction happening in some of the units on other floors) presents its own unique challenges, though. since no one's ever lived in his unit before him, he's sort of like the guinea pig; the first to discover which of the design elements are functional and which aren't. like how the tap in his bathroom had accidentally been installed backwards, so the hot and cold water markers were switched—a realization he regrettably only came to after stepping into an ice cold shower for the first time.

or how the intercom system in the building isn't quite up and running yet, so every time he has guests over he has to come all the way down to the lobby to let them in himself.

"wow, what are the chances of running into you here?" rintarou drawls as he opens the building door for you, allowing you to step in out of the cool night outside.

pretty good, you'd wager, because he knew you were coming and had to be here to let you in.

you're too tired to make any sort of snarky remark though, shooting him a pointed look instead as you step past him in the doorway and into the lobby's warmth. coming to suna's place had been a last minute decision made late in the evening when a poorly-timed (or well-timed on his part) text landed in your inbox; you weren't dressed for the weather, but had been close enough to walk from the little bar where a few of your friends had gathered that evening.

"cold out?" he asks you as he lets the door swing shut, turning and following along behind you as you begin making your way towards the elevator.

"freezing," you reply, still holding your coat tightly around your frame. you're narrowly fighting back the way your teeth threaten to chatter.

"sorry, I came down as soon as you called to tell me you were on your way," rintarou frowns a little as he takes in the way you have your arms wrapped around yourself for warmth.

"no, i know," you wave off his concern, pressing the UP button on the panel next to the elevator in the lobby. "i should have called sooner but i didn't want to take my hands out of my pockets since it was so cold on the walk here."

you'd only fished your cellphone out of your pocket when the building was in sight a few metres down the road, preserving every little bit of warmth you could for as long as possible.

"you know, you wouldn't need to wait for me to let you in if you'd just let me give you a key fob."

the elevator doors slide open to take you both up to rintarou's floor, and your glance over at him from the corner of your eye as the two of you step inside.

you don't want one of suna's key fobs. firstly because he'd already broken the only spare he had thanks (indirectly) to you—having once tried to toss it down from his third floor balcony while you were waiting out front in the middle of the night. it had landed on the pavement underfoot and shattered into approximately a million pieces—leaving him down to only the one connected to his own key ring. he'd told you it really wasn't that expensive to get his building manager to replace it, but you'd vehemently spurned the suggestion, which brings you to the second point—

having a key to rintarou's place (however temporary) just feels too... serious.

too serious for you and him, and whatever this decidedly unserious thing between you is, anyway.

"who's to say you won't destroy that one too?" you brush off his suggestion as the elevator doors slide closed.

the inside of the elevator still has those thick, padded blankets hanging up to protect the mirrored walls while they finish construction, and still have people constantly moving boxes and furniture and whatever else into the vacant units units. it makes the already confined space feel even smaller, and you try to ignore it as suna presses the button for his floor on the panel off to the side of the doors.

"fine, freeze then," rintarou shrugs, but you can feel his eyes on the side of your face.

"the cold wasn't even the bad part," you sigh, wincing a little as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. "i haven't worn these boots out before and my feet are killing me."

suna glances down at your feet, taking in the knee high boots you have on your feet.

"oh," he says, his tone a bit different now in a way that makes you look at him suspiciously. "those are nice."

"you're such a freak," you laugh under your breath and he peeks up at you without a hint of guilt on his face.

"i mean it," he insists.

"i know you do," you snort.

the elevator dips slightly as it arrives to rintarou's floor, and it makes you wobble a bit unsteadily. rintarou wraps his arm around your waist to steady you without missing a beat.

"they really hurt that bad?" he asks, peering down at you curiously.

from this close you can see just how unfairly long his eyelashes are, and how they flutter as he blinks down at you. you hate how nice it is to feel his warmth seeping into you when he holds you like this. you hate the thought of him stepping away again even more.

"yeah, it's my own fault though," you answer quietly.

the elevator doors slide open, and you move to step out, but rintarou rushes ahead of you. you watch, confused, as he crouches down just on the other side of the threshold of the sliding doors.

"really?" you ask him with a laugh, rolling your eyes as he waits for you to climb up on his back.

but it's late, and you're tired, and your feet hurt.

(and you really like how warm he is, even if you'll never say it.)

so you carefully hop on, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, and let him carry you off in the direction of his apartment—endlessly grateful for how few units on his floor are leased, and therefore how your chances of running into anyone in your current state are lowered.

you can only see the slightest bit of rintarou's profile while he carries you like this, but you can tell even from the glimpse you get that he's looking awfully smug as he carries you to his door.

"don't look so pleased with yourself," you mutter, squeezing your legs a bit tighter around his waist in warning.

rintarou's hands slip down from where he was loosely holding you behind your knees until they grasp your thighs and the leather upper of your boots.

"these really are nice you know," suna remarks quietly, his thumbs brushing along some of the stitching at the sides.

"i'm not keeping them on in bed," you warn him flatly, his apartment door now in sight at the other end of the hall.

"why not?" suna sounds so plaintive it almost makes you laugh. his grip slips all the way down to your ankles now. "it's not like they can hurt your feet while you'll be on your back, anyway."

"rintarou!" you hiss, slapping one of your hands over his mouth to shut him up, scandalized at what he's said in the middle of the hallway—lack of neighbours or not.

you feel his lips spread in an obnoxious grin under your palm, but you don't dare pull it away.

"keep it up and you're getting thrown off the balcony next, pervert."

#lol nobody look at me #tw feet #<- this is more for my own peace of mind (there is no peace of mind for me to have when it comes to this guy)#suna x reader #suna rintarou x reader #hq drabble #hq writing #writing

362 notes · View notes

soov · 1 month

Text

TDWP　⌒ ✶　𝐎𝐎𝟏. capture the flag, sunghoon!　

warnings : wounds, blood, cursing.

Aphrodite’s favorite son panted heavily, the rustling sound coming from fallen, dry leaves playing with his messy senses. Blood oozed from the cut he got on his hand from fighting a monster moments ago. He felt his faux blond strands (that he took his sweet time to wash last night) stick to his forehead, mud and sweat covering them.

Park Sunghoon hated Fridays, and especially capture the flag games.

If only the camp director, Mr. Dawoon, was more considerate, then maybe Sunghoon’s life would be much easier.

Every Friday he would sit down at his cabin’s balcony, basking in the sunlight. His favorite pink mug with ‘Prada’s boy’ written in the middle would be filled with white chocolate peppermint tea. Not only that, but his pale skin would be covered by one of the glitter masks he stole from his friend, index pointing mockingly at the untidy demigod passersby. The blondie would be doing anything but falling on his butt in the middle of a forest.

“Jay was right. You really don’t put any of these muscles to use.”

After having his marvelous train of thought snapped in two, Sunghoon’s gaze quickly moved from his toned biceps to his two companions.

Jungwon, son of Iris, held what resembled a large sphere of light which reflected a rainbow, almost blinding Sunghoon. Standing proudly next to him was Apollo’s child, Sunoo, who aimed a golden bow at the older boy’s forehead.

“You’re absurd.” Sunoo snickered, not lowering the sonic arrow in a bit. “All of those workout routines and weird diets for you not to know how to fight.”

Rolling his eyes, the prince-like teen put up his arms to shield his vision from the glow. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Can you help me up already?”

The duo laughed while watching Sunghoon reach out his slathered hand for them to lift him up.

“We’re on opposite teams, Sunghoon.” Jungwon mischievously grinned, ears catching the monsters’ screeches and yelling from afar. “We can’t help the losing cabins.”

“I’ll heal your hand once the match is over.” Sunoo assured before his body swiftly twisted to the side, an arrow being launched to the source of the sound. When he turned back to Sunghoon, he took his sword out of the sheath. “Move.”

“Shit,” the blond let out a groan in despair at their bloodthirsty looks. He consoled himself for not knowing how to throw some punches, and pointed out Jungwon and Sunoo as the origin of his problems. If the gods were truly kind beings, then they would help him out, right?

Before the youngest two could take a step forward, a thick darkness materialized around them and canceled the light coming from the sphere and bow. The situation only confirmed that Park was the dearest of all the Olympus’ immortals.

Sunghoon heard grunts and bodies falling to the floor as if someone took them down. What felt like a chilly hand touched his upper arm, and the sensation of being sucked into a black void consumed him. He screamed in shock as his stomach turned upside down, similar to how you would feel in a roller coaster. He thought that his limbs were being squeezed and swapped around in an insane velocity, until the light at the end of the tunnel appeared.

Breathless pants left his lips whilst he came back to sanity, clean hand clutching his chest in horror. He slowly opened his eyes only to be met with a gray zip-up hoodie on top of a chest armor.

You — the owner of the hoodie in question — spun around to face Sunghoon, quietly observing his features.

“Are you okay? We just shadow traveled, if you didn’t know.” You spoke softly, focus set on his wide irises, and how his hurt palm rested on his knee, facing upwards. “Those two seemed ready to beat your guts up.”

He laughed at your weird choice of words while still lacking for air. “It’s because they were going to do that if you didn’t come to save me.”

Strangely enough, Sunghoon had never seen you around the camp, or if he did, he couldn’t recall it. However, something that he couldn’t pinpoint made him think that he had met you before.

You offered him a small grin, which he accepted instantly, reciprocating it. Seeing how beautiful you looked without any effort, he mused if he was actually pretty like how colleagues would compliment him.

Which facial products did you use? Did you eat anything specific for better skin? Was your face all good genetics or did his mother also bless you with unlimited beauty? And the most important question: why was there a shadow around your form, and why did you seem so intimidating, yet so gentle?

The teenager got up, dusting himself off. He felt gross, though he didn’t let it stop him from reaching out an amicable hand for the second time that day.

“I’m Park Sunghoon, son of Aphrodite.” He spoke as if you and all the camp didn’t know who he was. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, and thank you for saving my life.”

You had to bite back a snort at his dramatic introduction, limiting your actions to an eyebrow raise and a blank stare. “Yn Ln. The pleasure is all mine.”

A familiar voice yelled out your name and you tsked, sharply intaking your surroundings to leave in the right direction.

“I think it’s better if we go now.” Gloominess began to pool at your feet while you saluted him with two fingers. “That scream was my leave. Go to Cabin 7 to get some treatment after the game.”

“Oh! Um– Yeah, will do.” The demigod nodded in astonishment when you didn’t complete the handshake. He didn’t care when it was his stinky friends teasing him, but it was different when someone this gorgeous rejected him. It was all because of his messy appearance. It definitely was.

You disappeared, and Sunghoon stood back, staring at the trees to gather his thoughts. He was determined to win now, and he would do his best to kill every monster and capture the flag. After that, he would find you again — he still needed to know what was your skincare routine.

Maybe Fridays weren’t so bad, after all.

past 𓏸 archive 𓏸 future

GENRE opposites attract, percy jackson au, smau | PAiRiNG park sunghoon & f!reader

#꒰ 💌 ꒱ㅤׁㅤTDWP.#enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen smau #enhypen social media au #enhypen socmed au #enha x reader #enha smau #enha social media au #enha socmed au #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon smau #sunghoon social media au #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #park sunghoon smau

155 notes · View notes

puppym3 · 2 months

Note

Could you maybe write a fic based off of your favorite fancam? I know it sounds like a weird suggestion but I'm curious

⌦ .｡.:*♡ "take you home tonight"

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

playboy!seungmin x fem!reader

"let’s get out of this noisy place without anyone knowing no bad intentions just wanna know you more"

synopsis: seungmin knows you from mutual friends, and he always thought you were cute but you've never interacted with him. you both were at a house party you both were invited to and once he finally grabbed your attention, he never let it go.

wc: 5.7k

warnings: MDNI 18+, playboy!seungmin, cocky!seungmin, alcohol consumption, pining, tension, confessions, seungmin knows he's hot, at least he's respectful, seungmin is a little bit of a tease, text message segments, kissing, piv, protected sex, brief oral (f rec.), fluffy, seungmin wins reader's heart over, (lmk if i missed any!)

a/n: honestly, this really confused me at first, but then it really intrigued me and i couldn't stop thinking about it. thank you anon for giving me this change to dig deeper and be more creative with my writing!! before we start the fic, i should let you guys know what my favorite fancam is!!!

it's seungmin's "my house" fancam from the 2020 SBS music awards!! you can watch it here! i think it's the way he moves in it that's just so addictive, i've probably watched it millions of times, i suggest you watch it too!

let me know in the comments what your favorite fancam is! <3 (ALSO pls pls leave suggestions in my inbox i literally love doing these)

here's the song on spotify, as well!

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

The thumping bass of the music vibrated through the walls of the house, mingling with chatter and laughter. You navigated through the crowd, holding a red solo cup filled with some concoction you barely knew the name of. It was one of those typical college house parties—loud, chaotic, and bursting with energy.

You kept on losing your friends through the crowd of drunk dancing people, and the dim lights didn't help at all. The place was huge too, either someone rented out a mansion for the night, or they just happened to own a place this huge, and also had enough money to turn this place into a club-like setting.

Relieved to have found a quieter corner in the sprawling mansion, you took a moment to catch your breath and gather your thoughts. The night had been a whirlwind so far, and you couldn't help but feel a little lost in the chaos. You sipped your drink, scanning the room for any familiar faces.

Seungmin, a familiar face from your mutual friends, spotted you from across the room, his eyes lighting up when he saw you alone. He had been trying to catch your attention all night, but every time he got close, you seemed to disappear into the crowd.

Seungmin, little did he know, you were purposefully avoiding letting him come close to you all night. You barely knew the guy, sure, but every single time you've seen him, his charms made you undeniably angry, always seeming to have a different girl attached to his side.

He's a playboy, and you didn't want to get yourself tangled up in his game, you didn't want to be used for a quick fling, no matter how sexy he was.

So you continued to evade him, making sure to keep your distance from the boy who, even though you've never had a full conversation with, you couldn't get out of your mind.

Contemplating the chaos inside, you made a conscious decision to seek some fresh air and stepped out onto the balcony, feeling the cool breeze on your face. The night was quiet out here, a stark contrast to the party inside. You took a deep breath, trying to clear your head.

After a few minutes, you felt ready to dive back into the chaos. You re-entered the mansion, weaving through the crowd once more. As you made your way back to the dance floor, your eyes landed on Seungmin.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in exasperation at the uncanny ability of fate to always lead you to the one person you least wanted to encounter.

He was dancing in the middle of the room, his body moving effortlessly to the rhythm of the music. His hips swayed with a natural grace that was almost hypnotic. He was laughing, his face lit up with genuine joy, and for a moment, you forgot everything else about him.

You couldn't help but be mesmerized by the way his body moved, how charming he was even when nobody was watching.

For the first time, you saw him without the usual entourage of girls. It was just him, immersed in the rhythm, completely unaware of the eyes on him. The way he moved was magnetic, and despite your better judgment, you felt a pull towards him.

Before you knew it, your feet were moving, carrying you closer to the dance floor. You tried to keep your distance, but your eyes never left him. Seungmin's dance was intoxicating, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the sight.

Then, as if sensing your presence, Seungmin looked up and caught your gaze. His eyes locked onto yours, and a slow, confident smile spread across his face. He held out his hand, an invitation in his eyes.

You hesitated, your mind racing. Every instinct told you to turn around and walk away, to avoid the playboy who had captured your attention. But something inside you wanted to see where this moment could lead.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, closing the distance between you and Seungmin. His smile grew as he pulled you into his arms, his hands settling on your hips. The tension between you was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Look who finally stopped running," he teased, his voice low and smooth.

You smirked, trying to keep your cool. "Look who's finally dancing solo. What happened to your other girls?"

Seungmin's smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes. "I figured they were getting in the way of something I really wanted."

You raised an eyebrow, a touch of skepticism in your voice. "And what’s that?"

"Getting to know you," he said smoothly, his fingers lightly tracing your hips as he guided you into the rhythm of the music. "I've been trying to catch your attention all night, but you keep slipping away."

You tilted your head, a smirk playing on your lips. "Maybe I was trying to avoid you on purpose."

"Really?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. "And why would you want to do that?"

"Because you have a reputation," you said, your voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and curiosity. "One that doesn’t exactly scream ‘relationship material.’"

Seungmin chuckled, his grip on your hips tightening slightly. "What if I told you that my reputation is all just a show?"

"I'd call you a liar," you said, your voice teasing. "Because I've seen the way you flirt with anything in a skirt."

Seungmin spun you around, your back now pressed against his chest. His voice was low, his breath warm against your ear.

"And what if I told you that there's more to me than just a pretty face?"

You shivered, goosebumps rising on your skin. Your mind was telling you to run, to get away from the playboy who had captured your attention. But your body was telling you something else.

You leaned back into him, the heat of his body seeping through the thin fabric of your dress. "I'd say prove it," you challenged.

Seungmin's hand slid from your hip to your stomach, pulling you closer to him. "Come to my house tonight," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll show you everything."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't," he admitted. "let me earn it."

You bit your lip, your heart racing. You knew it was a bad idea, but You found it impossible to ignore the undeniable chemistry that crackled between the two of you.

Seungmin’s hand rested on your lower stomach, his touch firm yet gentle as he guided your movements with the music. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the intensity of the night. His proposition tugged at your desires, yet caution whispered warnings in your mind, leaving you torn.

You were just about to make your decision when the song changed, the beat shifting from fast and pulsing to something slow and seductive. Seungmin's hand moved from your stomach to either side of your hips, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Last chance to get away," he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

With a sharp intake of breath, you turned around and pulled Seungmin closer. His body pressed against yours, and you felt your skin burning up.

"If you get any funny ideas, I'm out." You huffed, acting like you totally weren't being swooned.

The bass of the music was heavy, and the heat of the room was nearly suffocating, but nothing could compare to the electricity between you and Seungmin. You were pressed up against each other, dancing with a natural ease.

Seungmin had his hands on your waist, and you had yours around his neck. The two of you moved in sync, as if you had done this a thousand times before. It was exhilarating, and you felt as if you were flying.

Seungmin smiled, and you felt your heart flutter. You had been avoiding him all night, but now you couldn't get enough of him.

As the music shifted to a faster pace, Seungmin's hands moved to the small of your back, and you felt his body moving with yours. The two of you were practically wrapped around each other, and you couldn't help but revel in the way he made you feel.

He was dangerous, but you couldn't resist him. He was a playboy, but there was a part of you that wanted to see where things could go.

The night went on, and Seungmin's offer remained on the table. You kept your distance, but you couldn't get him out of your head. When the party started to wind down, and the crowd began to disperse, Seungmin held his hand out to you.

"So, are you coming with me?" he asked, a smile on his face.

The words were simple, but they carried weight. You looked at him, and the temptation was almost too much to resist.

You thought back to all the rumors you had heard about him, the countless girls he had charmed and seduced, but you didn't care right now.

There was something about him that drew you in, and even though you knew it was a bad idea, you couldn't say no.

"Okay," you breathed, taking his hand.

The two of you made your way out of the mansion, and Seungmin led you to his car. The night was quiet and still, and the moon was high in the sky. It was as if the world had paused, giving you a moment to breathe before diving into the unknown.

"This is it," Seungmin said, his voice low and steady.

What did he have planned? Was he planning to just invite me here like all of his other quickies and make me leave the next morning? Or was he being serious?

The questions raced through your mind as you looked up at the apartment. It was smaller than you expected it to be, and in a quiet neighborhood. You had imagined him living in a luxury high rise, but this was surprisingly humble.

Seungmin held his hand out for you, and you took it, letting him guide you up the stairs. His hand was warm and reassuring, and for a moment, you could almost forget that you were in the home of a notorious playboy.

"Make yourself comfortable," Seungmin said, his tone soft and inviting.

You blinked in surprise, 'make yourself comfortable?' You thought he would jump you the moment you stepped foot in his place. But instead, he was offering you a seat, a drink, and an ear to listen.

You couldn't remember the last time you had spent an evening with someone in such an intimate setting. Usually, if you were to go home with someone, it was because they were expecting something to happen.

But tonight, it was different.

Seungmin was patient and attentive, asking questions about your life, and listening intently to your answers.

When would he drop the facade and make a move on me?

You questioned repeatedly, feeling a growing sense of anticipation building within you.

"Are you cold?" Seungmin asked, noticing how you had unconsciously wrapped your arms around yourself.

"Um, yeah, a little," you lied, knowing full well that you were just nervous.

Seungmin slipped his jacket off, draping it over your shoulders. "There you go," he said, his voice low and smooth. "That better?" The warmth of his jacket and the smell of his cologne surrounded you, and for a moment, you couldn't find the words to speak.

"Thank you," you managed, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. He had only given you his jacket, and yet your heart was beating like a jackhammer. You couldn't deny that you were attracted to him, and that you wanted him to keep on stripping.

But Seungmin surprised you again, by not making any move. It started agitating you, the anticipation of him not doing anything was killing you.

"Are you okay?" Seungmin asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Yes! No! I mean- I'm fine, it's just..."

"Just what?" he prompted, his voice soft and understanding.

"You're not gonna, y'know..."

"Gonna what?" he asked, a look of genuine confusion on his face.

You huffed, your cheeks red. "I mean, isn't this when you'd, like, y'know, make a move or something?"

Seungmin bursted out laughing, shaking his head. "Is that what you think this is? Me, bringing you back to my place so I can have my way with you?"

You pouted, a look of embarrassment on your face. "Isn't it? Don't you bring girls back to your apartment for this reason?"

Seungmin shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "This is the first time I've invited any girl to my place," he admitted, "why? Did you want something to happen?"

"I- what? No, no!" you protested, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

Seungmin's smile widened, and he leaned closer to you, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Are you sure about that?"

Your breath hitched in your throat, and the tension in the air was palpable. You could feel his body heat radiating off him, and the urge to close the gap between you was overwhelming.

"Y-yes, I'm sure," you stammered, but your eyes gave you away.

"Really?" he murmured, his hand brushing against your cheek.

"I mean, why did you bring me here, if not to... do things?" you asked, the curiosity getting the best of you.

Seungmin's smile faltered slightly, and he looked away, as if embarrassed. "I like you," he said quietly, "and I wanted to spend time with you, get to know you, in private."

You couldn't believe it, he didn't even try anything at all. He really did just want to spend time with you.

"You don't have to lie, you barely know me, how can you like me?" you huffed, a bit annoyed at his antics.

"Because, I don't chase, and for the first time in my life, I want to."

Your heart skipped a beat, his words catching you off guard. You looked at him, and you saw nothing but sincerity and vulnerability in his eyes.

"You like me?" you asked, disbelief and hope intermingling in your voice.

"I do," he affirmed, his gaze locked on yours. "I've been trying to talk to you for months, but you've been keeping your distance."

"I just didn't want to be another one of your conquests," you admitted, your voice soft.

"And what if I told you that I haven't slept with anyone else since I met you?" Seungmin asked, his voice laced with emotion.

You blinked, not believing what you were hearing. "You... haven't?"

"No, I haven't. I haven't wanted to," he said, his eyes holding yours.

Your heart raced, the emotions swirling within you threatening to overwhelm you. "I don't understand,"

"What's not to understand?" he asked, his voice soft and tender.

"Wouldn't liking me make you want to fuck me even more?" you challenged, trying to make sense of his words.

Seungmin sighed, running his hand through his hair. "I want more than that," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"I want more than sex," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. "I want more than a night."

His words pierced your heart, and you were at a loss for words. You couldn't deny the indescribable feelings he was bringing out of you.

You felt his hand cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin.

"So, do you want more?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You breathed, your voice shaking.

Seungmin's grip on your hip tightened, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his body heat, the smell of his cologne, the sound of his heartbeat. It was intoxicating.

He leaned closer, his lips barely brushing against yours. You could feel the electricity between you, the desire for more.

You didn't care about his background anymore, you didn't care if he had an uncountable amount of women before you, you wanted to be the best, the last, you wanted to be all his.

Seungmin’s breath was warm against your lips, and the intensity of the moment made your heart race even faster. You felt like you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, and the world outside seemed to disappear. The only thing that mattered was the proximity of his lips, the warmth of his touch, and the promise of something more.

You closed the gap, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both tender and passionate. Seungmin responded eagerly, his hands moving to cradle your face as he deepened the kiss. It was as if he was pouring all his emotions into that single, electric contact, and you could feel every ounce of it.

The kiss was slow and exploratory, as if both of you were savoring the moment and the connection between you. Seungmin’s lips were soft and insistent, and you could taste the sweetness of his breath mingling with the lingering taste of your drink. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of desire, and of something more profound than just physical attraction.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, faces flushed with emotion. Seungmin’s eyes were locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. As if it was the first time he's ever kissed in his life.

"What does this mean?" he asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

You brushed his thumb over his cheek, a smile playing on your lips. "It means that I'm done running," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

"And?" Seungmin prompted, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"And," you began, taking a deep breath, "I want to be more than a night with you as well."

Seungmin exhaled, a look of relief and happiness washing over his features. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if he was afraid to let go. You wrapped your arms around him, the feeling of his embrace enveloping you. It was as if the whole world had stopped, and it was just the two of you in that moment.

"Thank you," he breathed, his voice filled with emotion. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

You buried your face in his neck, breathing in the scent of his cologne and reveling in the feel of his body against yours. You could stay like this forever, you thought, but reality soon set in.

You reluctantly pulled back, meeting his gaze. "So, what now?" you asked, your voice laced with anticipation.

"Now," Seungmin began, a smirk spreading across his face, "Can I take you out on a date, maybe?"

You couldn't help but giggle at the hopeful expression on his face, "Of course," you replied, your heart fluttering with excitement.

"How about tomorrow?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face.

You nodded, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You couldn't believe this was happening, and part of you still wondered if it was a dream.

He leaned in and captured your lips in another but shorter kiss.

When he pulled back, you found yourself unconsciously chasing his lips, stopping when you realized what you were doing.

Seungmin smirked, and the look on his face sent a shiver down your spine.

"Are you going to keep teasing me?"

"Do you want me to?" he countered, his seductive tone back.

You playfully hit his chest, the flusteredness showing on your face.

"You were the one who told me to 'not try anything funny'." he teased, his fingers trailing over the back of your hand.

You wanted to curse at past you for setting you up like that. And at him for using it against you at this moment.

You wanted to tease him back, it wasn't fun being the only one cock-blocked.

"You can take your jacket back," you said, taking it off and handing it to him.

He looked at you, confused.

"I won't be needing it."

You brought your hands to the back of your dress, pretending to slowly unzip it.

His eyes widened and his face was red when he realized what you meant.

"Wait, so does this mean- Are you-"

"I don't know, am I?" you taunted, enjoying his reaction.

He blinked a couple of times, trying to process the situation.

"But aren't we going to date first?" he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Dating doesn't equal fucking."

His breath hitched in his throat and he looked at you as if you were an entirely new person.

"Did I surprise you?" You said, removing your hands from the back of your dress.

He was too stunned to say anything.

"Good night, Min,"

"W-what? Are you not staying?" he asked, disappointment laced in his voice.

"We have a date tomorrow, right?"

You turned away and made your way to the door.

"I'll see you tomorrow,"

"But-"

You didn't bother to hear him out, closing the door behind you.

You were dying laughing, all the way down to the bottom of the apartment.

Suddenly you felt a buzz, a text came in from your phone.

Seungmin: I wasn't expecting that.

You: You said you wanted to chase.

Seungmin: You got me,

Seungmin: Goodnight.

Seungmin: See you tomorrow.

Seungmin: Sleep well.

Seungmin: Text me when you get home.

As you turned off your phone, a mix of excitement and anticipation lingered, and you couldn't help but wear a stupid smile on your face. You knew he had you hooked.

***

You laid in bed, Seungmin still flooded in your head. The smell of his cologne ghosted your senses and the memory of his lips on yours replayed in your mind.

"I'm so fucked,"

You eventually fell asleep, excited for tomorrow.

When you woke up the next morning, the first thing you did was reach for your phone to check your messages. It was still early, so there were no texts from Seungmin on your phone.

But someone else did message you overnight, your friend who invited you to that party.

> I heard you left with Seungmin. I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU DIDNT DO ONE-NIGHT STANDS!!!

> Did you use protection?? please tell me you used protection.

> You're not even responding...

> Oh god, what happened??

> Don't tell me you're dead, naked, and your body is in a forest somewhere???

> You're still not answering.

> At least tell me if the d was big though? Did he know how to use it?

> Wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know.

> OMG WHAT IF YOURE PREGNANT WITH HIS BABY.

You couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter, your friend was always one for drama. You decided to leave her on read, knowing that she'll be annoyed with your lack of response.

It didn't take long for Seungmin to text you.

Seungmin: Morning,

Seungmin: Do you have any plans today?

You: Yeah, I have this really hot date in a little bit.

Seungmin: I'm jealous.

Seungmin: He should know you're mine.

You: Come pick me up, Min.

You: So you can remind me.

Seungmin: Address?

You sent Seungmin your address, excitement bubbling within you as you prepared for your date. Your heart raced with anticipation, and you found yourself fidgeting with every little detail of your outfit.

When the doorbell rang, it felt like time slowed down. You took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in your chest, and swung the door open. There he was, standing on your doorstep with a charming smile and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. The sight of him sent a surge of desire through you, making you want to drag him inside and forget all the plans you had for the day.

“Hi,” he greeted, his smile widening as he held out the flowers. “I thought these would brighten your day.”

You took the bouquet, feeling your cheeks flush. “Hi. Thank you, they’re beautiful.”

Seungmin’s eyes sparkled with genuine warmth as he looked at you. “Ready for our adventure?”

You nodded, your excitement palpable as you stepped out and closed the door behind you. The day was just beginning, and you could already tell it was going to be special.

The first stop was a museum, a place you had never been before. Seungmin seemed to know all the best exhibits and shared interesting facts with you as you wandered through the halls. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself captivated by his passion for art and history.

Next, he took you to a quaint little café for lunch. The food was delicious, but what stood out the most was the way Seungmin made you feel. His attention was solely on you, and every moment was filled with easy conversation and laughter. Despite your attempts to pay for your share, he insisted on covering the bill, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he did so.

After lunch, Seungmin took you shopping. You roamed through boutique stores, trying on clothes and laughing together as he gave you his playful opinions on various outfits. His generosity was evident as he insisted on buying you a stunning dress you had your eye on, despite your protests.

As the day wound down, you returned to Seungmin’s apartment. The atmosphere shifted as you walked in, the intimate setting contrasting with the excitement of the day. Seungmin pulled out his guitar, a soft smile on his face.

“Let me show you something,” he said, settling into a cozy spot on the couch and gesturing for you to join him.

You watched in awe as he began to strum a gentle melody. His fingers moved skillfully over the strings, and his voice, smooth and heartfelt, filled the room with a beautiful song. It was a side of Seungmin you hadn’t seen before, and you were mesmerized by his talent. The way he played and sang seemed almost magical, and you found yourself lost in the music.

When he finished, you were already snuggled up next to him on the couch, a contented sigh escaping your lips. The movie playing in the background was a mere backdrop to the warmth and closeness between you. You didn’t care about the film; all your focus was on Seungmin and the comforting presence he provided.

Seungmin’s arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. His touch was gentle, and you could feel his heartbeat against your back. His voice, soft and slightly teasing, broke the silence. “Did I earn your approval?”

You turned your head slightly to look at him, a playful smile on your lips. “Hmm, I don’t know.”

He feigned concern, his eyebrows furrowing as he looked at you. “You don’t know?”

You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you shifted your position, climbing onto his lap so that you were facing him. The move was intimate and bold.

His hands rested on your thighs, and he looked up at you with curious eyes.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and leaned in to capture his lips in a slow, passionate kiss. He eagerly reciprocated, his hands traveling to your hips.

As the kiss intensified, you could feel your arousal growing, and the ache between your legs was almost unbearable.

You ground your hips down against his, and he let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your hips.

You could feel his bulge pressing against you, and the friction of his hardness against your core was driving you crazy.

"Fuck, I need this," you breathed, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He lifted his arms, allowing you to remove his shirt.

As soon as his shirt was off, his lips were back on yours, kissing you with an almost desperate urgency.

His hands traveled up your back, pulling at the zipper of your dress. He removed your dress and tossed it on the floor, leaving you in nothing but your bra and panties.

He looked at you, taking in the sight of your body. His gaze was filled with lust and hunger, and his touch was electric on your skin.

His lips left a scorching trail down your neck, his hands exploring every curve of your body as he planted kisses and gentle nips on your sensitive skin. You let out soft moans, his touch and kisses sending shivers down your spine, unlike any you've felt before.

He reached behind you and undid the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His hands cupped your breasts, and he ran his thumbs over your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You gasped, arching your back and pressing yourself closer to him, wanting more. He obliged, his mouth capturing one of your nipples while his hand teased the other. You were panting and gasping, the pleasure was almost too much to bear.

His continued attentiveness sent waves of overwhelming sensations cascading through you, each touch and kiss a symphony of pleasure. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the second, and the throbbing between your legs was growing more intense.

Descending lower, his tongue painted intricate patterns on your skin, a tantalizing journey that culminated at the edge of your lace panties. With a deliberate motion, he hooked his fingers on the elastic of your panties, easing them down your legs with a gentle tug, baring you completely to his heated gaze.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his gaze full of desire.

With a tender push, he guided you down onto the plush couch, settling himself between your parted legs. His tongue ran up your inner thigh, making you shiver.

When his tongue reached your core, you couldn't help but moan, the pleasure was almost too much.

"You're so wet," he said, his eyes wide as he felt how slick you were for him.

He went back, his tongue swirled around your clit, taking his time to taste you, and the sensation was so intense that you could barely think straight.

"You taste so good," he groaned, his tongue plunging inside of you.

You cried out, your fingers gripping his hair. You could feel the heat coiling in the pit of your stomach.

"Seungmin, please," you begged, the need to release was growing more and more unbearable.

He pulled back, his fingers rubbing your clit, "What is it, baby?" he asked, his eyes scanning your face.

"I need you inside of me," you gasped, the sensation of his fingers on your clit was sending you over the edge.

He smiled, the look on his face making you even more desperate for him.

He leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue dancing with yours. You savored the taste of yourself on his lips, finding it to be the most tantalizing and erotic sensation you had ever encountered.

As he continued to kiss you, his fingers worked their magic on your clit, and the heat and pressure building in the pit of your stomach was becoming too much to handle.

You could feel the tension daring to snap, until his fingers retreated, leaving you feeling empty.

"Why did you stop?" you pouted, your hips bucking against him.

"Because, you're going to cum on me." he teased, his tone seductive and teasing.

He undid his pants, grabbing a condom out of his back pocket before throwing it to the side, along with his boxers, revealing his cock.

Your eyes widened, taking in the sight of his size, he looked delicious.

He looked so sexy as he rolled on the condom and discarded the packaging, and you couldn't wait for him to fill you.

"Ready?" he asked, lining himself up at your entrance.

You nodded, the anticipation was almost too much to bear.

"Yes," you breathed, the need for him was almost overwhelming.

With that, he slowly entered you, stretching and filling you like no one ever had before. He moaned little curses, the sensation of being inside you was driving him crazy.

You whimpered, the feeling of him filling you was unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. He felt so good, and the pleasure was almost unbearable.

"Oh my god, Min, you feel so good," you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

He started thrusting in and out, the friction of his cock against your walls was sending sparks of pleasure throughout your entire body.

A guttural moan escaped your lips as the feeling of him moving inside you rendered your mind a haze of pure pleasure and ecstasy.

You felt like your brain was being reduced to mush, the pleasure was so intense, and his cock felt so good inside you, rubbing against your walls in ways you've never experienced before.

You arched your back, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, feeling the tension build up in your core. The room was filled with the sound of your moans mixing with his, the heat between you both rising to an unbearable level. Every touch, every movement, every sensation was heightened in that moment, making you feel alive in a way you had never felt before.

The tension snapped, and you felt the heat and pleasure crashing over you, sending waves of ecstasy through your entire body. You cried out, the feeling was too intense, and the pleasure was almost overwhelming.

"Oh my god," you moaned, your nails raking across his back as the orgasm tore through you, rendering you a shaking, quivering mess.

He cursed in response, feeling your walls clench around him and your orgasm washing over him. The pleasure was too much, and the feeling of your walls pulsating around him was sending him over the edge.

He came undone after you, the pleasure crashing over him, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he rode out the waves of pleasure, the sensation too intense.

You held each other close, basking in the afterglow of your orgasms.

After a few minutes, he lifted his head, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"Did I meet the qualifications?" he murmured, his eyes shining with affection.

"More than qualified," you sighed, returning the kiss with a lazy smile.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

taglist: @loverbangchan, @reignessance

#stray kids x reader #skz #stray kids #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin #seungmin x y/n #seungmin x you #skz smut #seungmin smut #seungmin stray kids #seungmin fluff #my house #2pm

208 notes · View notes

tbgblr2 · 4 months

Text

The Ren Faire Situation

A birth story written in conjunction with @allkindsofpreg

---

“Are you 100% sure?” I asked, not hiding the concern in my voice.

You just smiled “I’ve made up my mind, I’m going.”

We had planned for the last few weeks to go to the local ren faire, where you were looking to get dressed up and enjoy the event, whilst taking what was likely to be the last chance to show off your pregnancy enhanced curves in public before the baby comes.

The problem was, the baby was coming… contractions had started this morning, and 3 hours on, they didn’t seem to want to stop.

So here you were, dressed up in your best pirate/wench outfit, pregnancy fuelled bosom looking magnificent, enhanced by the dress, cleavage spilling out of the top and leaving very little to the imagination, your bump – oddly smaller since your belly dropped a few days ago – still prominent behind the flowy fabric. A tie caught between the two, bright and causing the eye to immediately look at the area it highlights.

I’d always known you were a bit of an exhibitionist… hell, our baby was likely conceived when I was railing you on the balcony of a hotel with a crowd cheering you on from below – but I will admit, I kind of wanted you to myself when you gave birth.

But you wanted to make a spectacle of it. Have all those eyes looking at you. You know you could make it look like it was an accident – you could even make the news - “lady gives birth in public” has always been something that got your juices flowing. And here we are – contractions noticeable but not debilitating, and we’re about to walk out the house to walk half a mile down the road to the fair – and who knows what will happen from there.

“Are you ready, my lord?” you ask in a fake old world accent, pulling the skirt of your dress to the side with one hand and holding your stomach with the other, lowering into a polite curtsy. I take a moment to enjoy the birds eye view down your low lacy neckline before offering my arm and helping you to a standing position. In one fluid motion You’re upright and pressed against me, leaning down for a quick kiss.

“My god, you’re sexy,” I murmur against my lips, hands exploring your body beneath the elaborate folds of your gown.

“Mm, just wait ‘til you see me with a head crowning between my legs.” Even the thought makes you shudder with desire as you hike up the fabric to give me better access there.

I chuckle and slide my hand up your thigh, brushing over the fabric of your panties. “We may not make it to the fair if you keep this up,” I say, applying a bit more stimulation and causing you to gasp. “I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay.”

You know I’m wary about your intentions—and honestly, I make a compelling case—but you’re only going to have one first birthing experience and this is how you want to do it. “Don’t worry, baby, it’ll be fun.” I look doubtful as you display your best pout. “It’ll at least keep me distracted.” As if on cue, your stomach tightens, and in turn you make a point of keeping your stance and expression neutral, the only indication that anything’s happening a slight change in your breathing. “See? I can do this.”

“You can do anything,” I agree, removing my hand so that the hem of your dress falls back to the floor. “Guess we should get going then.”

You hook your arm around mine and, perhaps a bit too eagerly, glide out the door.

The walk to the event was a bit slow going, considering your size, but you make the most of it with seeing various turned heads, and the occasional honk and cheer from passing cars as they see your gravid form walking down the street. You had been doing curb walking for the last few weeks to try and get things moving, and automatically fell into that rhythm, up and down, up and down as one foot landed on the curb and another on the road next to it. The added jiggle factor of your breasts bouncing up and down helped with getting you noticed of course. Let’s just say that as we turned the corner into the site of the faire, you were very flustered – and it wasn’t just due to the exercise. We stopped twice on the way for a breather and to let a contraction build and pass, but thankfully we arrived without incident.

You feel another contraction build up while we’re waiting in line for tickets, but it’s easy to ignore amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Everyone is in costume, many with even more on display than you, and, not to be outdone, You loosen your own tie a bit. I notice and cock an eyebrow at you as you give me a wink—perhaps later I’ll tie you up tighter or perhaps take it off altogether; the possibilities are endless and equally thrilling. We can’t keep our hands off each other and the booth attendant has to toss a piece of popcorn at us after a few gruff coughs to get our attention. She seems equal parts amused and irritated when you request two and a half tickets as you press your hands into the curves of your belly, showing it off.

Once inside, you make a beeline straight for the giant turkey legs, dashing off before I realise, surprisingly spritely for someone in your advanced state of pregnancy considering how much walking you had done already. I soon catch up to you as you join the back of the queue - the turkey legs being one of the most popular things in the area meaning the line was always big.

You were panting a little out of breath, but smiled back at me "You're too slow."

I circle my arms around you and pull you back into an embrace, kissing the top of your head as I feel your chest raising and falling in line with your heavy breathing. We both burst into a giggle as the line slowly starts to work its way down.

As we get to the front, the lady serving the food has a wide grin on her face as you approach.

"Hey there, what can I get you and the bump?"

Entirely straight faced, you respond "Bump? Oh this? I just REALLY like the turkey legs." You emphasised the size of your belly by rubbing your hands up and down it tracing the shape under your dress.

Her face was a picture, completely unsure what to do with herself. She was stammering and clueless what to do next, in worry that she was going to offend you, but the onset of another contraction soon put paid to your charade.

You couldn't do much else than wince and rub your belly, but used it as a convenient excuse to apologise to the lady behind the counter and explain that yes, you were indeed pregnant, and you would really like 2 turkey legs. And no… one was for me - you weren’t going to just pig out on them. The baby obviously didn't like you making fun of the poor lady and gave you a kick in punishment.

I was smirking through this entire exchange but we soon got our food serving, a couple of drinks and headed off to watch a band play. As we got to the showground area, one of the local attendants brought over a chair for you to sit down on, whilst I climbed onto the ground between your legs. We sat down and had a few minutes of relaxation until you started to huff and puff a little, hand rubbing your belly.

"Starting to get noticeable I presume?" I asked. You nodded, leaned forward as much as your belly would let you so you could speak in a whisper close to me and said that when we were in the queue for food it was the first contraction which had taken your breath away. You thought it was because you had just rushed to the queue, and the strenuous activity had been an influence… but right now you're sitting down, doing nothing… and yeah, it’s now very noticeable.

"We can always back out?" I asked… already knowing your answer.

"Not a chance. Did you see how much people are looking at me, looking at the bump? This is going to be EPIC!"

We stay listening to the band longer than expected—they’re quite good, and the baby seems to like it. There are little kicks and twists that seem to coincide with the beat and our amusement begins to attract attention. You’re more than happy to let the other people in the audience touch your belly to feel it too, and pretty soon we’ve got the whole crowd dancing along. With a firm grasp of your hand and waist, I twirl and dip you through several more contractions. Another one starts up just as a song ends and I pull you into me, managing to hide the grimace on your face.

Someone comes up when the upbeat tempo begins again and asks if the little one is still boogieing in there, and you turn to her with what you hope is a smile. Clearly something about your face is off, or maybe it’s my laboured breathing or the way you’re holding your stomach, but she asks if you’re okay as you wave her off.

“Just overdid it, I think. My back and feet are killing me!”

She hums in sympathy and recalls how difficult those last few weeks always are, how you just wish the baby would get here already.

You’re smiling in earnest as you say to her, “It definitely won’t be long now.”

We go to the sword fighting demonstration next, and the people in the front graciously offer us their seats when they see your bump hovering beside them at eye level. You give them a small curtsy that turns into a very ungraceful plop down onto the beach seat. “I’m just never going to get used to balancing with this thing,” you say by way of apology to the people on either side of you, pressing in the fabric of your dress around your stomach to emphasize its impressive size. “Won’t be a problem much longer, though,” you say, giving it an affectionate pat.

I’m chosen from the audience to participate—our entrance made a bit of a scene and did not go unnoticed by the actors—you whoop and holler as they pull me on the stage. They teach me a few moves and then “challenge” me for my affections, seeming to imply that the baby you’re carrying may or may not be mine, as you somehow wind up on the small platform right along with me. I do surprisingly well mimicking the moves showed to me earlier until finally I’m at a standoff. A contraction hits hard and fast and you double over with a surprised yelp and both of us on the stage turn to look at you—to cover up the slip, you make it part of the performance, like you had feigned a labour pain to fluster him, and shout, “Quick, my love, strike while he is distracted!” The actor takes the cue and allows me to land the final blow while the two of us share a passionate kiss (which earns us a fair few whistles and applause from the crowd) before taking a bow (admittedly, you didn’t bend too low) and running off before anyone can question whether you’re really that good of an actor.

The public escapades up until this point and - after that last contraction - knowing it won’t be long until the big finale has you all hot and bothered as you pull me into what you hope is a vacant tent. You wrap a leg around me waist, your hands toying with the ties of my costume. “Got time for a little more swordplay?”

As we slip into the tent we’re giddy, giggling happily, but after a few furtive glances around to make sure we’re alone, we’re quickly getting serious and down to business. Kissing across your cleavage and up your neck has you shuddering in delight as I take a moment to lift your top over your head and expose your underwear clad body to the world. My hands explore your body as I strip you of the bra you were wearing along with tugging down your panties and leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. You’re standing there naked in front of me, glorious in your bountiful pregnant form, as you pull me close and tug down my trousers, bunching them at my feet.

My “sword” is well and truly on display as you’re licking your lips in delight as you manage to find a position you can support your body whilst leaning back against a table, opening your legs in accommodation.

My first thrust was strong, and made you yelp with the unexpected force. One of my hands grasped your hair and pulled your head back exposing your neck further to my kisses as you moaned in delight with my thrusts now slowing to a much more relaxed tempo.

You couldn’t hold that position long with the weight of the baby positioned as it was so you eventually turned and braced yourself against the table with your hands, presenting your ass to me. My knees slid between your legs and pressed lightly to the side, parting your own legs, you bobbed down into a bit of a squat to give even more access.

We scrabbled around in this position for a few thrusts into your waiting pussy but because you were quite low down it was a strain for me to keep thrusting up whilst getting the angle I needed to.

With a quick slap on your behind - resulting in the most magical squeal I’d ever heard - I pulled up a chair and sat on it as you finally lowered yourself on me - giving me free reign to enjoy your breasts and belly as you bounced.

Our groans joined each other as your approaching climax caused you to speed up your actions, my own cum releasing deep into you in a flood as I couldn’t hold back any longer. The resulting sensations tipped you over the edge as your orgasm caused you to yell out with pleasure, lost in the moment of bliss.

The sound you made must have alerted someone passing by as we heard footsteps approaching rapidly. Jumping we both looked at each other as you scampered off with an amazing high speed waddle out of the back door of the tent, as naked as the day you were born - completely oblivious to if there was anyone waiting on the other side.

I grabbed your dress and bra, pulling up my trousers but not fastening them to at least allow me to walk without tripping up. I join you outside to see that thankfully there’s no one there so I hand you over your dress and bra whilst fastening my trousers.

“I’ll need my panties too” you say “you’re dripping out of me down my leg” and that’s when we both realised that in the rush to leave I’d left them in a crumpled heap on the floor.

You shrugged “oh well guess someone will have a nice surprise… and I’ve got to deal with the leak” as you pull the top over your head - not bothering with the bra either, stuffing it tight down and pushing it into my pocket - and glance around the side of the tent in order to get back to the main show area.

We walked around and found somewhere opposite the tent we were at to check on what was happening but no one came out. They’d either dashed out before we got dressed and we missed them, they hadn’t spotted the thing we had left, or were left enjoying them - either way you seemed to be getting a thrill out of what had happened.

The next contraction took you by surprise through as you grasped onto me. I turned my head to see you visibly biting your lip to avoid letting out a scream. Suddenly there was a splash and a puddle formed between your legs. We both knew what that puddle was.

Without the cushion of an amniotic sac, the baby suddenly felt much lower, the contractions much more insistent, and the need to push much more urgent. The groan that emerged from your throat was guttural, instinctual, and you crouched down where you stood, clutching onto my forearms for support.

“Are you pushing?” I asked, slightly whiplashed between the thrills of having sex, nearly getting caught, and now this. “Already?”

You just gave me a squeeze in response, putting all your focus into breathing and controlling you volume until the contraction was over. With my help you stood back up and wrapped your arms around me, both of us still a little shaken.

Even though it came rapidly you were a little more prepared for the next one, able to maintain your standing position while your body worked to bring the baby down. You buried your head into my chest as we swayed together through the worst of it. We were hidden away, tucked in the narrow alley between tents, and any passersby would mistake it for a tender embrace. But we’d have to come out of here eventually if we wanted an audience.

There was a major show going on at the moment—something with jousting and fire and circus performers—and we made our way toward the back of the crowd. The skirt of your dress was large enough that it obscured the worst of your awkward, bow-legged waddle, but it was still a slow process. Your hand never left your belly, as if supporting it from the base would somehow relieve some of the force of the pressure bearing down within it.

Most people’s attention was on the performers, but we did garner a few nervous glances as those closest to us saw your restless shifting form and heard your grunts.

“Are you alright?” asked one of them, who was wearing a ridiculous feathered cap and carrying some sort of wooden instrument, eventually whispered when you were bent over and gasping after a particularly brutal contraction.

You gave him a tight-lipped smile and a strained, “Fine.” They glanced to me for confirmation; I shrugged, but couldn’t quite hide my growing anxiety.

The concerned bard remained undecided, but kept an eye on you, and when you dropped to your knees a few contractions later, determined that it warranted a trip to the medical tent. The bard tried to help you back to your feet, but you had decided that you weren’t going anywhere. You screamed when they tried to lift you, loud enough to stop the production mid-charge, and all eyes in the large stadium turned to gape at you. “I’m- I’m having a baby!” you yell, for the sake of anyone not close enough to see what was happening.

The elaborate ties of your dress were already loosened and askew from our previous activities, so it was easy enough to subtly work the laces and slide the fabric from your upper body. It looked like an accident when the heavy textiles fell dramatically around your kneeling form, exposing your full, heavy breasts and huge belly. I knelt beside you, as if making moves to preserve your modesty, but you lurched forward suddenly onto your hands, the dress falling down your thighs and exposing the rest of you.

The restricting fabric prevented your knees from widening as they needed to, and you begged me to get it the rest of the way off you. I helped you crawl forward a step and as a result your legs were blissfully free, but this position hid the spectacle from your audience.

You grabbed for me and held as you got your feet under you, lowering into a deep squat with your breasts, belly, and pussy facing out toward the crowd. You moved my hands to your inner thighs, forcing them open wider and pulling open your dilated folds, and pushed.

The realisation of what just happened seemed to ripple through the crowd - the immediate people around us either recoiling in shock, or many grabbing their phones and hitting record.

As much as you were incredibly turned on by the attention you were getting, the force of the contraction making you to push out our baby was a significantly more pressing concern. You bellow out, completely uncaring who hears it “this hurts more than anything I’ve ever done… labouring all day… it’s just…” your voice was cut short as you simply howled in pain as your eyes closed and you bore down, desperate to move the blockage between your legs.

As the contraction began to fade and you started to regain your senses your head turned towards me, you had tears in your eyes. “Help me” you managed pitifully.

I managed to lean in close to you so my whispering voice could only be heard by you “how are you feeling? Is this just an act or does it hurt?”

“It fucking hurts…” your reply had tones of desperation in it. The next contraction was quick to pick up and you were soon pushing again, a bulge visible between your wide splayed legs suggesting the head was going to be very big.

“Here here now you poor baby, let’s see if we can help you” came a voice. I looked up, and you managed the same to see an older woman - 60s or older - pushing her way through the crowds and trying to force - unsuccessfully - to make those recording the spectacle on their phones stop and give you a little dignity.

She grunted with exertion as she kneeled down between your legs, her hands reaching down to the bulge, surprisingly chilly against your hot, distended skin. You shivered - I was trying to work out if it was through the ministrations of the lady who walked up touching your sensitive areas, or you had just orgasmed from the attention you were getting.

“I’ve pushed out 8 babies myself and caught 5 grand babies from my daughters” she offered “so these hands are good hands and know what to do.”

“What do I do?” you asked, echoing her words back to her.

She chuckled and gave me a wry smile. “In my experience—and from the looks of it, yours too—whatever your body tells you.”

“Oh god,” you groaned, the pressure bearing down between your hips insisting that you bear down with it. “I need to- I need—“

“Baby’s head’s right there, I think you’re safe to push whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m not ready! It wasn’t supposed to be like this; there’s so many—hnghhh, fuck—people!” Your words dissolved into moans as you yanked desperately against my flared knees, but all that did was pull taut your skin and emphasize just how small your opening was in comparison to the large head bulging behind it.

“That’s it, let it stretch,” the woman soothed, running her fingers along the edges of the modest crown. You pressed yourself into her touch and she hummed in recognition. “Nothing to be self-conscious of here, dear. Do whatever feels good for you; it’s all natural.”

You brought your fingers to your clit and rubbed a few quick circles before the stimulation became too much. You cradled your belly as you pushed, but your hands soon wandered to your breasts, your nipples, and the resulting whines were a mix of pleasure and pain.

“It’s too big!” You wailed between pushes, looking to me in desperation. “It hurts. It’s burning, please, do something.”

I looked to the woman and she shrugged. “She’s the boss.”

I looked warily around at the many pairs of eyes fixed on us, but they faded into the background as soon as I wrapped my body around yours. You took one of my hands in yours and guided the other one between your legs as another shot of pain jolted out from your stomach, up your spine and through your hips. I thumbed gently at your sensitive nub and explored the changes in the folds that I knew so well.

“Help me stretch.” came your plea.

I dipped a finger under your stretched skin, gently tracing the cap of our baby’s head. Another contraction started and you pushed, my fingertips spreading you open even wider than the head. I pulled away quickly at your pained yelp, but it had helped—the head was staying put now, even between pushes.

“It’s stuck, it’s- I’m going to tear!”

“Oh no you don’t,” the woman said, getting her hands in the way between us, taking back up their work with the emerging head. She placed her palm flat against the exposed crown, applying a fairly firm pressure to keep it from coming out even as I continued to stretch painfully around it—prolonging the torture. “Pant. Pant, now,” she instructed.

“Please, I need to push, let me push!” you whined, unable to resist your body’s urges. You bore down again, but she just pressed in harder as you cried out as the two impossible pressures clashed right at the peak of your pain.

I had managed to get myself out of her way and resulted in getting directly behind you. You shoved your hips back, desperate to retreat from her iron grip, and your ass rubbed against my hard cock. You hear me whisper a string of curses and ground harder against my hips—if you had to suffer on the precipice of release, so would I.

You shuddered and relaxed a bit as the contraction waned, and the woman likewise relaxed her grip against you. There were a few gasps as she pulled her hand away and the crowd got an unobstructed view of the massive crowning head.

The view of a couple of flashes from people’s cameras were ingrained in your mind as you sit there, panting, the few moments of respite between contractions giving you little time to pant through and get some energy back before you needed to push again.

You leaned back against me, rubbing my engorged cock between your body and the fabric of my jeans. I let out a little groan as I felt myself approach my own little precipice.

The next contraction ramped up though and more of the same happened again - the desperate need to do nothing else but push, and this random stranger lady pressing back against all your effort.

You lost it as the frustration toppled you, all focus on the pain radiating between your belly and your legs, and this woman who was actively trying to make it harder for you.

“Let me push!” You screamed between gasps of the contraction as she just tutted at you.

“Don’t be a baby dearie” she took it in her stride. “I’ll let you stretch nice and slow so you don’t tear. You have a big one here.”

“Please!” You gasped, “Please… I’ll tear, I just need it out and you’re stopping me.” The last word was a chilling wail.

Despite your obvious discomfort my own sordid desires were being tweaked simply by the amount of effort you were putting in. Your body pressed back into me as you undertook push after push, my cock getting rubbed more and more.

I felt myself release as you wailed out. My cock pulsing and throbbing as each squirt filled my underwear. I felt it run down my leg. I pulled you in close grabbing your hands and crossing them over your chest pulling you tight against me as I hoped that there was no evidence of the leak on my trousers with all the cameras trained on us right now.

My shiver wasn’t missed by you as you look up in my eyes, meeting me with a weary but loving grin, for a few moments you smiled until the smile was replaced by a scowl as once more it was time to push.

Your body twisted and trembled as the war against instinct continued. Your hands grasped at nothing as you sought an outlet for the pent up energy you couldn’t focus into your core—your fingers clawed at my hair, the grass, the fabric of your discarded dress, the tight skin of your stomach.

“Fuck this hurts,” you huffed, more for me than for the onlookers. Then, louder, “Another contraction, already?”

You reached a shaking, tentative hand between your legs, brushing the woman’s aside and winced as your fingers grazed the tender flesh. It bowed and flexed with the force of the contraction alone and you whimpered as your lips peeled slowly back around the widest part of the head.

“Alright, now we’ve got ‘em right where we want ‘em. Give it all you’ve got, honey!” I almost hissed the words trying to keep it quiet enough that only you could hear.

In your opinion, sweeter words had never been spoken and wasted no time putting your chin to your chest and giving a hard shove. In a cruel twist of fate, the baby now seemed content to stay right where it was. You tried again, pushing harder this time, and howled in frustration when it didn’t budge.

“Come on now, girl, push!” came the woman, I had echoed something similar.

“I’m trying, it’s- fuck, it’s really stuck!”

After another two contractions of stalled progress, she finally believed me. “How about we get you on your feet,” she suggested. “Come on now, help her up,” she prompted, but I froze, keeping you tight against me.

“My- I can’t,” I whispered frantically in your ear, and you nodded— you understood.

You waited for the next contraction, took a deep breath, and leaned forward putting everything into the push, making an effort to make sure that the lady’s hands wouldn’t get in the way of this push. Your hips lifted just enough so they were hovering on top of my crotch and you screamed, all the anxious and excited attention fuelling another mighty push as the head shot out the rest of the way with an impressive gush of fluids… which sprayed across the entire front of my trousers, concealing and blending with any other stains that might have been present.

“Fuck,” you gasped, both in surprise and relief, as you got the rest of the way to your feet. Then an agonized, “Fuck!” as the baby spun and the shoulders settled quickly and violently into place against your tortured hole. You bent my knees and braced your palms against your thighs as you started to push again.

The lady beckoned me forward and I dashed around from behind you to kneel in front, hands poised in place just under the dangling head of our baby.

Now at eye level with your pussy, I watched as the shoulders bulged and gravity threatened to pull the heavy child the rest of the way out. “What should I do?” I asked the old woman, though my eyes never left you.

“Catch!” she said with a laugh, and I raised your hands just in time for the baby to slide into my grasp.

Your yell of triumph was magical as the vernix-covered baby slid into my hands, the lady, unexpectedly diving forward to catch you under the arms as you sagged, threatening to collapse with the effort. You were gasping, panting for air, you were shell shocked, but one thing was clear – you had realised you had done it. My god you were grinning.

The lady helped lower you to the ground as I held on for dear life to our baby – a daughter – my eyes weirdly focused on the umbilical cord connecting the small bundle in my hands to your gaped opening.

“Shit” was all I could mutter.

“Shit, indeed” you echoed.

You realised a blanket was suddenly placed over your shoulders as paramedics arrived, covering you up from the gawping onlookers. You’d done it. You had your dream. You’d given birth in front of a crowd. No doubt Youtube and who knows what other sites will be flooded with footage of this tomorrow. At least we know we will have a record of our birth.

The baby was taken from me as her umbilical cord was cut, and she was checked over. I sat next to you in a daze as paramedics helped check you over.

You leaned in close to me as you kissed me and then got very close to my ear, whispering so no one else could hear. “We need to go one better next time. We live stream to the entire internet !”

#birth kink #fpreg #birth #pregnancy #labor kink

348 notes · View notes

saetoshi · 1 year

Text

itoshi sae hates laundry day ever since your dryer broke.

(he broke it. neither of you know what he did, but he broke it and he hasn’t bought a new one since.)

he especially hates when it rains. it means he’s stuck with a pile of wet clothes and no place to dry them in.

it also means he’s stuck sitting in front of the doors to your balcony, glaring at the sky when he realizes the rain isn’t going to let up soon.

he hears the front door open, signaling your arrival. he makes no move to look at you, but he greets you back when you call out to him.

“it’s raining.”

“i know,” he sighs in annoyance.

“do we have a bucket?”

“i think so,” he gets up from his spot on the floor with a groan, “why?”

he turns his head in your direction, eyes widening in panic when he sees you standing by the door, soaking wet.

you point at the clothes clinging to your body, “it’s raining hard.”

“i know,” he rushes to you, “why’re you drenched?”

“i could’ve sworn i packed your umbrella,” he clicks his tongue, lifting up your arms to get you out of your shirt.

you kick your pants off, “it broke.”

he picks up your clothes, dragging you to the bathroom. he tosses your clothes in the sink, gently pushing you into the shower.

he takes his phone out to check the weather, slightly frowning when he realizes it won’t let up for at least another hour.

he relaxes when he hears the shower head running. “i made food.”

the corners of his lips quirk up when you groan in disgust.

“couldn’t you have ordered delivery or something?” he can hear the distress on your voice.

“it would’ve taken too long to arrive,” he bites back his smile, “plus, i was starving.”

you whine. he laughs, “eating my food once won’t kill you.”

“last time you cooked,” the shower head turns off, “we had to rush to the hospital because you gave me food poisoning.”

you stick your arm out of the shower door.

“first off,” he hands you a towel. “you were already sick.”

“and,” he grins when you step out of the shower, towel snug around your shivering frame, “if my food had, in fact, poisoned you as you say, then why was i completely fine?”

you glare, averting your gaze from his, a soft huff slipping past your lips. “you tell me.”

you perk up, turning your head towards the sink. “why are my clothes in the sink?”

“the washer’s full with our laundry.”

you turn to look at him, blinking curiously. “why didn’t you throw them in there, then?”

“the clothes in the washer are already clean.”

“oh.” you sway on your feet, “you haven’t dried them?”

sae shakes his head, a dry smile on his lips, “it’s raining really hard.”

and amused hum leaves your lips, “you really need to buy a new dryer.”

“i know,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “i’ll do it tomorrow.”

there’s a beat of silence.

“sae.”

he looks at you.

you point at the sink, “those were the only clean clothes i had left.”

he blinks. you blink back, a sheepish smile on your lips. he sighs before taking off his shirt and offering it to you.

“that’s the only clean shirt you have left too, isn’t it?” you tentatively reach out to grab it, motioning for him to turn around.

“how’d you know?”

you slip the shirt over your head, smiling at his curious tone, “it’s the only big shirt you have.”

“you also said you’d be caught dead before wearing it out in public,” you laugh in amusement.

(he did say that. the very first day you saw him in it, actually. it’s officially become his ‘i’ve got nothing else left to wear’ shirt.)

“whatever,” his ears flush, “can i turn around now?”

you hum, pressing a kiss to his cheek when he does. he kisses your forehead in return.

“c’mon.” sae tugs you out of the bathroom.

“where are we going?”

“kitchen.” he turns to look at you, a mischievous smile on his face, “you haven’t eaten yet.”

a horrified expression paints your face. he laughs at you. you try to wriggle out of his grasp, “i’m not hungry!”

“oh, please,” he rolls his eyes, “you’ll be fine.”

“itoshi sae,” you cry, “if i die i’m leaving everything i own to your little brother!”

“you don’t even know him.”

you sulk, “he still deserves it more than you!”

he scoffs, “it’s not like i’m the one doing your laundry or anything.”

“you broke my dryer.”

“i’ll buy you a new one.” he glances out the window. it’s not raining as hard. (he hopes it stops soon.)

“it better be a good one.”

he looks back at you, a smile tugs at his lips to return the one on your face. you both fall silent, the soft pitter patter of the rain against your windows being the only sound in the apartment.

you stay like that for a bit, the sound of rain soothing both of you. until you hear a thunderclap. sae’s eyes widen at the same time yours do. you stare at each other for a few seconds.

your lips form into a fine line, “we should order a dryer.”

“yeah,” he sounds breathless.

“we should do it now.”

“yeah.” he dumbly nods his head. “we should.”

#this man has a fucking DEATH GRIP ON ME I CANNOT #ITOSHI SAE LET ME BE FREE !!!!!!!!!#failwife sae #i think it’s so funny how he canonically does not know anything besides soccer !!!!!#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #sae x reader #itoshi sae x reader #blue lock x you #bllk fluff #bllk scenarios #bllk sae #bllk itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae #blue lock sae #sae x you

1K notes · View notes

tiredfox64 · 5 months

Note

I had an idea, I don't know how good this sounds but in the beginning of the MK1 story when the Lin Kuei trio attack Madame Bo's restaurant as an act to text Raiden and Kung Lao skills, the reader happens to be there as a traveler who also has fighting skills and fights off Smoke and finds out it's a test by Liu Kang who accepts being one of earthrealm's champions but has a hard time trusting Smoke after what happen and Smoke does everything he can to gain her trust?

Trust Me

Prior notes: Halfway through writing this the Ninja Storm theme song played in my head nonstop. I got distracted for an hour just listening to almost all the Power Rangers theme songs Σ(￣。￣ﾉ)ﾉ

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: A few kicks and punches, we got those from our siblings.

You travel high and low, far and wide. The lands must be explored and experienced. Your current location? Fengjian Village in China. Quite a peaceful village actually with farmlands that stretch for many miles. You decided to rest for a moment at the tea house. Madame Bo was really nice to you, happy to have a lovely lady like you come in.

Little did you know that she was expecting you.

Lots of different people and personalities around here. You got a show as well. Two men fighting just to figure out who is paying tonight. It must have been serious because they were fighting for their lives. You can understand since the food was amazing.

The sun had set and the cool breeze blew through the tea house. You were finishing up your meal at the same time those two men were about to. In an instant the atmosphere became hostile. You looked up to see a man with silvery hair and gray attire harassing Madame Bo. You watched carefully, wary of this guy’s intentions. You jumped into action once you saw him attack Madame Bo and literally throw her over the balcony.

His eyes turned to you when he saw you running towards him. You were surprised by the smoke bomb he threw down. It made you cough which gave him the opportunity to attack you, causing you to hit the floor.

“You are brave, but against us? You are in over your head.” He mocked you.

“I don’t care who you are or what your purpose is. You will not be a nuisance to Madame Bo.” You declared before fighting him.

You fought viciously, as anyone would suspect. This guy had a few tricks up his sleeve. Magic that you’ve never seen before. Yet you stood your ground. While you were dealing with him those other two guys were fighting off the other assassins. Oh great there are two more who got some sort of freaky magic. Well at least they are taking care of that.

An amazing spectacle of kicking, punching, and slashing was performed by you and your opponent. After all that you managed to defeat him, leaving him lying on the ground. You moved quickly to check on Madame Bo who was…fine. No, really, she was. Standing up straight and smoking a cigarette like it was a normal Tuesday night. A man with glowing eyes approached you and you finally got the answers you needed.

This was all a test from Lord Liu Kang. You, Raiden, and Kung Lao were chosen to join Earthrealm’s champions. Liu Kang was thankful that you chose to visit Fengjian now since it made things easier.

He explained that the people who attacked were the Lin Kuei and that you fought Tomas aka Smoke. They weren’t thugs but were actually a clan that helped protect Earthrealm. You were still in shock about the whole thing. You couldn’t let your guard down fully even if you now know it was a test.

Liu Kang told you all that the Wu Shi Acadamy will help train you and prepare for the Mortal Kombat tournament. Looks like you will be staying in China for longer than you expected.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Ever since Tomas fought you he has been dying to talk to you. He thought you did amazing. He really didn’t know what to expect since you were just a traveler. No one had a clue who trained you or even why you were so good at fighting. You must have been a quick thinker since you manage to figure out he was using smoke magic.

The problem is that you were cold to him. You still didn’t trust him even after finding out it was all a test. He would visit the Wu Shi Academy just to get a chance to talk to you, only for you to move away from him whenever you saw a hint of his silvery hair.

Raiden and Kung Lao told you to not hold it over his head. Madame Bo is safe. Hell, she was even in the Lin Kuei once, she’s a tough woman. Nope, you’re still not budging.

“I don’t understand, Raiden. She still treats me like some thug.” Tomas expresses his frustration to Raiden who wants to help make peace between you two.

“It probably didn’t feel good to her to be tricked like that. It may be best to prove to her that she can trust you.” Raiden gave back the best advice he could give.

“But what can I do if I can’t even get close to her.”

Raiden had to think for a moment. The others such as Kung Lao, Johnny, and Kenshi all came around as well since they heard Tomas’ frustration. They didn’t want him feeling bad about what he did since he was instructed to cause a disturbance at the tea house. They also don’t want you holding a grudge against a sweet and cool guy like Tomas.

“I got it!” Kung Lao snapped his fingers, “How about you train with us for some time. She will see that you aren’t so bad after all especially when she sees how calm you are when fighting us. Maybe giving her a gift once in a while will help as well.”

Not a bad plan. It could work. Tomas was on board with this. He didn’t want you viewing him as some thug anymore. You need to see who he truly is and he will do anything to prove it. Operation make you trust Tomas is a go go!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Tomas asked his brother if it was okay to train with the Shaolin for a bit. Bi-Han couldn’t give two fucks where Tomas would be at so he let him do that.

Now you really couldn’t avoid Tomas. Anytime you decided to train with the other champions he was always there. You grew annoyed by his presence. You couldn’t understand why no one else was upset by that trick of a test.

You also couldn’t understand why he was leaving you bunches of lavender and peace lilies. Okay well the peace lilies should have been a big sign but you weren’t the biggest expert on flowers or their meanings. He would leave them at your door, on your chair, he would even have the guys pass you the flowers just to make sure you would accept them.

And after some time you did. It would be a waste if you kept throwing them out. They were lovely and lavender is useful. You didn’t fully trust him yet but his efforts were chipping away at your stubborn heart.

You started watched as he trained with the others. All those fighting moves you saw before when you fought him. The aggression you felt before when seeing those moves slowly started to fade. You watched as he patiently taught the others some tricks on how to defend themselves. Not just that but he was open to being taught as well. The monks taught him new moves and involved him in meditation. Now would a violent person meditate? Nope, because Tomas is not the violent person you think he is.

You realized maybe you were being a bit too harsh when you heard him speak. His voice was less deeper than when you first heard it. It was just an impression anyways. And without his mask on there is no muffle to it. You listened to how disappointed he was, concerned that you still don’t trust him. He expressed that he is doing his best but he fears that you will always see him as the bad guy.

It broke your heart when you realized you misjudged him. He was putting in a lot of effort and you were turning a blind eye to it before. You don’t know how long he will be training with the Wu Shi and you don’t want to regret not saying anything to him. You want to make things right and the best way to do that was to talk to him.

One day you found him near the zen gardens. A place of relaxation and peace. A good atmosphere for something like this. He was meditating all by himself and you were unsure about disturbing him. He already heard your footsteps, you can’t sneak up on a sneaky person. He turned towards you expecting to see someone like Raiden or Johnny. But no, it was actually you. He was shocked and wasn’t sure what you were doing here. You gently waved towards him before speaking.

“Hi…do you mind if I join you?” You asked softly.

Tomas just stared for a good five seconds before breaking out of his trace. “O-oh yeah sure.”

You thanked him before walking closer. You surprised him even more when you described to sit next to him. Both your hearts were beating fast. Yours because you were unsure of what to say and his because of the same thing. You took a few deep breaths before speaking up.

“I’m sorry that I’ve been kind of cold to you. Maybe even been avoiding you. I just kept thinking back to that night at the tea house and I just thought you were the same guy I fought back then.”

You saying sorry was already the highlight of Tomas’ day. Before he can say anything to you, even to apologize for fighting you, you continued.

“You don’t have to apologize for what happened. I understand it was just a test and no one really got hurt. Well, maybe not physically but I did hurt you by being mean.”

You were picking at your fingers as you looked down at your lap. Now you wondered if he thought of you as the bad person. He doesn’t, he never did.

“We got off on the wrong foot and I want to make it right. Maybe you and I can train one of these days if you are willing to spend time with me.”

“Yes! Yes! Of course I would love to.” Tomas got too excited and covered his mouth, not wanting to disturb the tranquility of the garden anymore.

You looked at him all shocked before chuckling quietly. He really was desperate to show you that he is trustworthy. Seeing that it all paid off was too great for him that he had to express it. How could you ever imagine he was some cruel man who purposely beats up old ladies?

Your chuckle made him feel less embarrassed and happy to see you loosen up around him. You seem way chiller than he imagined. He’s excited to get to know you more now. You took his hand into yours and shook it.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Smoke.”

He smiled at you. The mission was a success. All of this was worth it.

“The pleasure is all mine. But please, call me Tomas.”

After notes: It’s a bad time for me to find out that my favorite show is free on YouTube. Mhm I’m gonna be blasting that good shit on my tv. Anyways I hope you enjoy whoever requested it. I actually thought about this scenario a bit ago but never wrote it down and forgot about it. So looks like you read my mind. Trust me it sounded good to me :3. Adiós!

174 notes · View notes