#All these distractions! No excuses! Go love now! Lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thebutchersbitch · 4 months ago

Note

Sorry if this goes against what you write I couldn't find like a request dos and don't thingy lol but I would love if you wrote about a reader who has to get chained up or locked up every night before they go to sleep because cooper cant trust you won't run away, but one day the restraints are loose or not locked (maybe he does it on purpose to test you) and you decide to stay put because you love him and then he rewards you 🫣

This story can be read alone or as Part Two of this one!! 😊

18+ only

Daddy kink/DDLG | Stockholm Syndrome | Breeding kink | Reader was kidnapped by Cooper months ago, taken from her home and husband, but has forgotten her former life entirely while under Cooper’s manipulation and control

Cooper’s jaw was tense as he pulled out of the driveway. He’d made a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret. The consequences of the test he was currently giving you could be lethal to his entire world…and yet, he needed to test your loyalty to him. It wasn’t enough for Cooper to hear you profess with words your love for him. Words alone meant nothing; as a skilled liar, Cooper knew this all too well. He needed real, irrefutable proof that even when given the choice of escape, you’d still be waiting for him when he returned to the safe house.

It’s why he’d left the keys to your cuffs on the table at your side of the bed, where you could easily reach them. If he returned to the house that afternoon on his lunch break and you were still there…then at last, Cooper would have his answer. If however, you’d used the opportunity to escape, then his entire life would be in your hands. Either way, Cooper had to know what would happen if he tested you. He sighed deeply through his nose, lips pressed into a stern, flat line. He looked back at the house one last time before leaving, hoping his instincts about his little girl’s loyalty to him would prove correct…

The hours at the fire station passed by easily enough. When lunch time arrived, Cooper made an excuse to the men working under him about needing an extended break. Family stuff, he lied explained. Really, he needed to go check on his girl.

He packed up his lunch and brought it to the car with him. Cooper drove the few miles from the station to the safe house he kept you in, listening to a local news and weather report on the radio, taking a few distracted bites of his sandwich on the way.

When you heard Cooper’s car come to a stop outside the house, your heart rate kicked up a notch. The handcuffs he’d left you in were now sitting with the keys on your nightstand beside you. Unaware that you were being tested, you’d taken advantage of Cooper’s ‘mistake,’ in leaving the keys within your reach. This will finally prove it to him, you thought. Cooper would see that even with the ability to leave him, you’d choose to stay.

Cooper entered the house downstairs, listening. It was quiet…too quiet. Perhaps you were sleeping, Cooper wondered. Apprehension built within him as his fears you’d escaped multiplied. He passed the stairs quickly, his steps heavy down the carpeted hall that led to the bedroom. You smiled when Cooper’s boots became visible in the crack under the door. He seemed to pause, inhaling a deep breath before pulling back the door. Met with the sight of you sitting on the bed, Cooper felt a sense of peace sink over him. He swallowed the lump of nerves that had been building in his throat, leaning inside the doorway, smiling at his girl. “Hi baby,” he said, and in spite of hearing Cooper’s voice nearly every day for the past ten months, your cheeks still warmed bashfully.

He looked so goddamn handsome, so big, illuminated in the doorway with the hallway light behind him.

Cooper looked at the table beside you, and then your wrist. His test had been successful. You’d proven yourself just as beautifully broken as Cooper hoped you were. He’d never been more proud of his little girl.

“I took the cuffs off,” you said, a little worried. “I hope you’re not mad at me, Daddy.” Cooper shook his head.

“Far from it,” he replied softly. Cooper didn’t hesitate a second longer before taking three quick strides to the bed, and climbing on top of you. Your legs parted instinctively for him, the soft outline of your pussy puffy and warm as Cooper rubbed himself against you.

His kisses on your neck were tender, grateful. He needed this, even more than he’d thought. The knowledge that you were truly his had Cooper’s mind spinning in the best way, his body flooded with adrenaline and happiness. His cock was already stiff against your cunt; he reached between your bodies and undid his jeans, relieving some of the pressure. Cooper’s kisses traveled lower, between your breasts and down your belly. When his tongue traced the outline of your bellybutton, a little giggle shivered out of you. The giggle was quickly silenced and exchanged for a whimper when Cooper’s mouth latched over your pussy.

Any remaining tension in his mind melted away into the moist heat of your cunt. Cooper couldn’t think straight when his face was between your legs, your fingers tugging at his hair, his tongue buried in the soft folds of your pussy. All he could focus on was your sweet taste, the slick smearing across his cheeks as he nuzzled your folds. You rotated your hips side to side, seeking the end of Cooper’s nose to rub your clit against. He sucked fat, wet kisses onto your pussy, a filthy squelch following each.

His shoulders were nestled between your thighs, his chest and belly against the bed as he ate you. Cooper’s arms hooked around your upper legs, his fingers laced together on top of your belly, holding you in place so you couldn’t squirm away from him no matter how hard you came. Pearly liquid oozed from your pussy in between Cooper’s lips, his mouth sealing over your cunt and lightly sucking. The pulsing pressure made your legs twitch, prompting Cooper to lock his arms even tighter across your belly, a proud smirk finding his lips as he realized how close you were.

“So good for me, baby,” Cooper hummed against your pussy, his words interspersed with little kisses and sucks. “Such a good little pussy…all pretty and puffy, just begging for Daddy to kiss it…” He spanked his palm lightly against your cunt, watching your pussy flinch and your tiny hole pucker.

Making you come was what Cooper lived for in this moment. Any time his face was between your legs, your pleasure was all that mattered to him, now more than ever. You’d done so well, proved yourself loyal to him in the most definitive way possible. You needed to be rewarded, to be shown exactly how much Cooper appreciated knowing that his little girl was truly, unquestionably his. Nothing existed beyond the space where Cooper’s face was nestled, his eyes closed in a drug-like satisfaction, your warm thighs acting as earmuffs to seal away the world around him.

Cooper ate you for an hour straight, without a single pause to rest his jaw or tongue. Your ass was sitting in a little puddle of your own juices by the time he was finished. He reached for his phone, pulling it from his pocket with slippery fingers. He cursed when he saw the time. “Have to get back,” he murmured, returning his phone to his pocket, popping his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Cooper kissed your belly and lifted himself off the bed, stuffing his cock back in his jeans.

He slicked back his hair, wiping his wet chin on his sleeve. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” you told him in a small voice. Cooper nodded as he gently pulled your panties back up. “I know angel,” he said. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.” He winked up at you. “Promise.” Cooper reminded you to eat the lunch he’d brought you from the station, and to get plenty of rest while he was gone. You’d need it for tomorrow, he said. “Because tomorrow,” Cooper explained. “When Daddy gets home, he’s gonna put his dick where his tongue was for the past hour.” Cooper’s tone was darker, a sincerity in his voice that was thick with lust. “And I’m not gonna stop,” he continued. “Till I’ve put a baby inside you.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “Yeah,” Cooper nodded, sensing your confusion. “You’re going to make me a real daddy again, angel.” He leaned closer and cupped your cheek tenderly. “I know that I can trust you now,” Cooper said, an affectionate grin on his lips. “You won’t leave me. That means I can trust you to carry my children.” He sat down on the bed beside you. “Rachel is…” Cooper paused. “She won’t give me anymore kids. It’s fine, it’s her choice, but-.” Cooper sighed. “I want more. You’ll give them to me.” You felt a little dizzy, not just from coming so hard for an hour straight. Cooper’s plans for you had caught you off guard.

“Isn’t that right honey?” Cooper asked, but he wasn’t really asking at all. “You’ll make me a daddy as many times as I want, won’t you?” You nodded slowly, absorbing Cooper’s words. “We’ll deliver the babies here,” Cooper continued, matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry about safety-I’ll make sure it’s safe. I have the training. I can deliver our babies right here-.” Cooper patted the bed, a confident smile on his face. “Firefighters are trained to deliver babies on the job if necessary.” His voice was cheerful. “Did you know that, sweetheart?”

You shook your head ‘no,’ still processing Cooper’s plans for you. He rose from the bed once again, sighing contentedly as he headed for the door. “You’ll make an excellent mother,” Cooper told you. “Much better than mine. I know it.” He patted the doorframe on his way out. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

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ki-yomii · 11 months ago

Text

down on you | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, hair pulling, standing missionary, rough sex, porn w/ plot, mafia!jk, detective!reader, established relationship, mild angst, mild violence ➥ summary | It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all. ➥ notes | the mafia!jk au no one asked for aka an excuse to write smut w/ feeling lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

On his knees staring down the barrel of a loaded gun with a mouthful of blood, he knows this is the end of the line. He’s going to die like a rat in the gutter - no mercy to be found, loopholes to exploit or bribes to be made.

This is the real deal, and there’s no coming back.

Judgement Day comes in the form of a man with dark eyes and a dangerous smirk: Golden, the deadliest guard dog of the underground.

Credited with dozens of hits, you won’t know he’s there until it’s too late. Trying to keep him pinned is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, or a whisper on the wind.

And you won’t know he’s coming until you feel the breath on the back of your neck, hear the crack of a bullet ringing in your ears.

Belonging to one of the most powerful men in the world: Kim Namjoon, he’s more war machine than man.

“Go ahead, do it!” He spits at Golden’s feet, a mess of blood and drool staining the crisp leather of his combat boots. “Killing me won’t change a goddamn thing.”

A coy smile tugs at Golden’s mouth, his grin all sharp teeth and violence. He stays where he stands, his silhouette haloed by distant streetlights.

Water laps at the docks, the tang of salt heavy in the mid-summer Seoul air. There’s no rush; they both know he’ll be dead and dumped just like all the rest of the garbage in this rotting city.

“Come on, you prick! Pull the fucking trigger already.”

Golden cocks his head, and hums in the back of his throat.

“Tch! I hope you’ve got a lot of bullets - we’re gonna knock the crown off Kim’s head one way or another.”

Golden thumbs at the safety of his gun, the barrel glinting through the shadows. “Ahh, is that what you think?” He shrugs, a lazy ripple of muscle. “Well, I have to say: I’d love to see you try.”

The night is shattered by the resounding crack of a gunshot and an echoing splash of something heavy dropping into the water below.

You climb out of the nondescript government-issue car. The faintest tremble of your fingers nearly gives you away but you’re able to reign in the impulse to smooth your hands over your clothes at the last second.

Showing weakness is the last thing you need to be doing right now.

Especially here.

Right in front of where you’ve parked - shoved between two looming apartment complexes - sits a quaint, vintage building. The rough brick face is at odds with the sleek surroundings, but tinted windows keep prying eyes at bay while the classy signing hanging above the door reads The Red Bullet written in caps.

If you didn’t know better, it would be hard to believe this otherwise mundane storefront is a cover for one of the most dangerous international organizations based out of South Korea.

Not only do they hold the keys to the kingdom, but their success is largely in part because they spearhead operations from government espionage all the way to simple blackmail.

Even though it’s been several months since you darkened its doorstep, the familiar sight is enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Send your heart galloping into a tailspin as your stomach swoops.

While time away helped clear your head of stolen kisses and promises whispered in dark rooms, it also drove the longing bone deep.

In those quiet moments to yourself, when you have nothing else to distract from how lonely you are, you miss this place like one misses a limb.

You didn’t realize how attached you were to these four walls until it was too late: the hazy air filled with whorls of smoke, the overhead lights that bathe everything in red, the plush chairs you spent many nights sprawled across, the glossy black stages.

You don’t know how, you don’t know when but at some point it (he) started feeling like home. A luxury you can’t afford. Not again. After all, if you give in, any progress you made outside of his gravitational pull will be for naught.

Which puts you in a dangerous position as you find yourself back where it began; feelings at war with duty, mind vs heart. Because even if it leads you to a place you could go a million years without ever seeing again, you have to follow the trail of bodies.

A bouncer grants you access, the heavy door slamming shut behind you like a death knell as he herds you towards the back of the club.

It’s outside of official operating hours but it’s no less busy inside, men and women alike in scattered conversation as you pass through.

“It’s nice to see you again,” the bouncer murmurs, chancing a quick glance at your profile. “Been a while.”

You swallow, gaze darting down to your shoes. “Ah - yeah… Got busy with work. It’s - it’s nice to see you too.”

The small talk fizzles out, a snuffed candle as you arrive at a cordoned off room, “Here we are. Mr Kim is already expecting you.”

Any further pleasantries grow stale on your tongue as you enter the private booth, fighting against the lump in your throat to manage a hoarse ‘thank you’.

And then you find yourself left alone with the man himself, Kim Namjoon. He’s as intimidating as you remember, lounging back into the leather booth with his ankles crossed.

A lukewarm smile stretches across his lips, the slightest hint of a dimple peeking out from the valley of his cheek. Standing at attention on either side of his reposing form are two massive bodyguards. Their hands rest on the butts of their guns, daring any who enter to try and make a move.

“It’s good to see you again. But I gotta ask - what’s the occasion, Detective?” Namjoon hums. “I thought we were past all this.” He waves a nebulous hand between your bodies. “After all, you’re practically family.”

You ignore the hidden barb with a wince. “Mr Kim, you know why I’m here.”

“I used to know why a long time ago.” A well-groomed brow raises, his gaze glacial as it spears you in place. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Please, Mr Kim. I don’t want to make this more difficult than it is. I just need to know about the man they fished out of the harbor, and then I’ll be on my way. So… who was he?”

Namjoon scoffs. “What makes you think I know more than the police?”

There’s a flash of a smirk, barely noticed, before his face returns to its neutral expression. As calm and cool as a placid river. “A john’s a john. What I do want to know is why you care so much?”

The underlying question is clear; why are you really here?

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters with civillians.”

“Oh? So I’m a civilian now.” His expression is not unlike the cat that caught the canary: vicious and delighting in the discomfort his evasions are causing. “Gotta say that’s a new one for me.”

Sighing in defeat, you say, “Alright, enough. I get it. I’m wasting my time with you. Let me ask this instead: where is he?”

“He doesn’t know any more about this than I do,” he says, waving a blase hand towards a door off to the left, “But if you insist, you can find him in the office. Oh, and Detective?”

“...Yes?”

“Take your time, I’ll be out on business all afternoon.”

With a curt nod, you flee the room amid low-throated chuckles and enter the office. Standing near the desk, his broad back turned towards the door, you find the man you simultaneously want to see the most and run from the fastest.

He turns around, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement. Your breath stutters in your chest, and you nearly swallow your tongue as your eyes trace over the cut of his body.

The moment your eyes meet, those many months spent cultivating time and distance turn to ash. You forgot how even the mere sight of him affects you, any resistance to his many charms virtually nonexistent as the world falls away.

Rich, coffee dark; his gaze sucks you in until it’s all you can do not to reach out, to brush your fingers over his edges and feel them soften beneath your palms.

Rocking back on your heels, you clear your throat and glance to the side as you remain standing in the entryway, more than a little off-kilter.

Coming back after so long apart, only to find him the same as the day you left… How do you reconcile everything that’s changed with everything that was?

“Well, hello there.” Jungkook croons, leaning his hip against the corner of the desk with a roll of his shoulders. His arms cross over the trunk of his chest, accentuating the bulk of his chest, the flex of inked bicep. “Long time no see.”

Shifting, you gulp. “Ah - yeah…”

The burn of his gaze - a palpable sensation prickling across your skin - tracks a path from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes as he gives you a thorough once-over.

“You’re looking good,” Jungkook hums in approval, “real good. I’ve missed those pretty eyes of yours.”

“You - you too.”

Your attention doesn’t know where to settle: drifting from the curve of his shoulders to the jut of his bloody knuckles, the tuck of his trim hips to the thick-soled combat boots.

Tiny hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, and your palms slick with sweat.

“I mean, you look… y’know, uh, good too.”

A flash of a crooked smirk, the raising of a pierced brow gets your blood pumping, your heart tattooing a rhythm against your ribs. Emboldens you to reach back with shaky fingers to turn the lock. The sound grates down your spine, bolts of anticipation slicing through you.

It was dumb to think coming here, seeing him again, would end any other way than his taste on your tongue and his cock in your cunt. Hope makes fools of us all.

Should’ve known better but you’d been hopeful those days were long behind you. Now you realize it was inevitable.

After all, Jungkook is magnetic.

The black hole at the center of your universe, consuming everything in its path until he’s what remains in your head, your heart. You’re helpless, ceaselessly drawn to him like a moth to flame.

And try as you might, you can’t say no to a face like that.

Never could, in fact.

Failure to extract yourself from his orbit during your not-relationship is nothing new. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it difficult.

After all, you still have some dignity intact.

So try, try, try again.

“Ahem.” You try to banish the heat from your cheeks, guiding the conversation into the correct territory. “I’m not here on a-a social call, Jeon. I need to know: were you the one that killed and dumped the john in the harbor?”

Stalking closer, a lazy jungle cat on the prowl, Jungkook crosses the distance between you. He only stops once your bodies brush with every labored inhale. Heat radiates from him, and you’re achingly aware of every point of contact.

The light scent of his cologne teases your nose, and his eyes - god, his eyes. They’re shaded and hungry, devouring your expression with single-minded possessiveness.

“What makes you think I know anything about that?”

“Jeon -- Jungkook.”

He hums.

Your heart thrums, pulse rushing hard through your head until you feel faint, blood surging the longer you stay in close contact. The shameful clench of your cunt makes your cheeks burn all the brighter.

The last time you were looking up at him like this, his hand was on your jaw while his cock thrust balls deep.

“C’mon, you know that isn’t going to work. This is me you’re talking to, not some rookie.”

“Mm,” he purrs, “it is you I’m talking to, isn’t it?”

You manage to bite back the groan but can’t stop your eyes from rolling even if there’s the slightest hint of a stutter when you reply, “Please, I just need to know if you killed him.”

Jungkook looms tall and proud, crowding closer. “And if I did, baby?” he asks.

Instinctively you back up, only to be followed step by step. A game of cat and mouse that finds you pinned against the wall before long. With nowhere to run, you watch, heart in your throat, as Jungkook dips his dark head.

His nose runs along the length of your neck, breath puffing across your sensitive skin as he inhales the pleasant scent of your perfume.

“I - I…”

“Would you see me in handcuffs?” His lips caress the underside of your jaw, a soft groan escaping him. “… C’mon, answer me. Would you?”

“I would - if I had to.”

As much as you wish that was true, you know in your heart of heart's you would do everything in your power to make sure that never happens.

No matter how much you like to think you’d do the right thing when push comes to shove, you’d choose him a thousand times over.

His eyes dance playfully. “Careful, I might like it.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” you say with a snort.

Jungkook chuckles low and warm, using the arm around your waist to tug you into the safety of his body. The softness of your breasts presses into the hard planes of his chest, your nipples pebbling through the thin cotton shirt you wear.

With a deep-throated groan, his hands encircle the curves of your hips as a thickly muscled thigh slots between yours.

An answering quiet sigh gets his blood pumping and his cock twitching.

“Mm, something tells me you’d enjoy it just as much, Detective.”

The use of your title is a rude awakening.

“Jungkook,” You warn, moving to push him away. Only once you start touching him, you can’t stop. His muscles flex beneath your curious fingertips. “We really shouldn’t.”

You’re sure if he could, Jungkook would spend days worshipping between your thighs, velvet heat wrapped around his tongue and hands in his hair as he brings you to peak again and again until you’re a sobbing, sopping, boneless mess beneath him.

“Come on, I know you want me - that you’ve missed me. I can see it in your eyes.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, tongue flickering out for a brief taste before a rough thumb skates across your bottom lip, tugging down to expose your teeth, the glitter of your tongue as it darts out to flick over the pad of his finger..

“I’ve certainly missed you, baby. Want me to show you?”

Even though you refuse to admit anything out loud, you can’t help but angle your throat back and grind into his hips pressed against yours.

Jungkook tsks, “That’s alright. I’ll get that pretty mouth open one way or another.”

Before you can retort, a mouth swoops down to fuse with yours in a fierce, all-consuming kiss. A low, broken moan punches from your chest.

Reaching up, your fingers sink into the mane of dark hair that brushes the cut of Jungkook’s jaw. Soft, thick, and wavy in your grip; you tug at the roots.

Jungkook hisses.

Teeth nip at your lip, kittenish licks soothing away the string as blood bursts across your tongues. The thigh shoved between yours grinds up with every wet, sloppy pass of your lips.

Thick muscle spreads your pussy open through the thin slacks of your work uniform. Sparks of pleasure dance down your spine with every rock against your swollen clit.

“S-Shit!” Your shoulders curl in, a shudder jerking through you. “K-Kook, I… !”

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Jungkook growls, rutting his cock against the jut of your hip. The wet patch you’re making on his jeans grows larger with every filthy grind. “You’ve been gone too fucking long. Never again, you hear me?”

You claw at his shoulders, stuttering out, “there’s noth-ing you can do t’stop me.”

“If you don’t come back to me,” his eyes are dark and stormy, voice whiskey rough, “I’ll find you.”

It’s not a threat - it’s a promise.

“Then make sure I never want to leave,” you challenge breathlessly, staring into his blown out pupils, “Make me want to stay.”

Above all else, you think.

The words are barely past your lips when Jungkook accepts your challenge with gusto (just like you knew he would). Without delay, he thumbs open the button on your pants.

Refusing to let you look away, Jungkook yanks them to your feet and swings you up into his arms one-handed. They hang from your ankle like a chain.

Your surprised squeak is quickly swallowed up by a moan when he settles you over the bulge in his pants, your cunt hovering over his erection.

The heat of his skin sinks through the thin cotton of your panties, so, so close to where you need him. Slick soaks into the fabric, and clings to your inner thighs.

Every shift is a smooth, sticky glide of folds that stirs, and stokes the ember of desire smoldering behind your navel.

“Kook,” you breathe. “Please.”

Your head rolls back, and you sag into his chest. Your hips twitch in pathetic little attempts, trying to get pressure where you need it. Having him hot and hard and all for you; any distance between you is suddenly unbearable.

He needs to spread you wide and stuff you full with every inch of his thick cock until he’s so deep you won’t be able to walk for days.

“Shh baby, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, gaze heavy and possessive. “I’m gonna ruin you so good, you’ll have no choice but to come back. You’re mine.”

“Says who?”

“Hmm. You don’t think you are?”

Nibbling on your ear, Jungkook slips a finger under the hem of your panties. He smirks when you keen, rubbing his knuckle up and down your sloppy folds with teasing pressure.

“How about I show you what your body already knows?”

Wasting no time, he lifts you off his cock, the scrap of cloth fluttering to the ground. His free hand dives between your bodies. Then comes the clink of a belt, the sound of a zipper pulling down.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, your body coiled with anticipation as your stomach swoops at the brush of his fingers along the underside of your thigh.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” Jungkook twists his wrist, hips arching back. “And it’s all for me. Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside this pretty pussy.”

Any response dies on your tongue, brain short-circuiting as the slick, fat cockhead rubs along your slit. Pressing against your entrance the slightest bit before slipping up to nudge at your clit - coating himself up in your sticky juices.

The ultimate tease - something Jungkook’s always been overly fond of doing until you’re out of your mind with desperation.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, cheeks on fire and eyes half-lidded as you circle your hips. “Stop playing around. I want it - want you, Kook.”

“Oh, baby,” he smiles, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “You’ll take whatever I give you.”

You can’t stifle the broken sob, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Liquid fire surges through your veins, a thousand bolts of lightening crackling beneath the surface of your skin. Your pussy is tender, swollen. Walls fluttering in time with your heartbeat.

“Ha, you’re so needy for me.”

Jungkook’s lips brush away the moisture around your eyes, his thumb drawing soothing circles into the base of your spine. All the while, his torturous grinding never ceases.

“Aren’t you?”

You croak, “I can’t – Kook, please. Anything, I’ll do anything you want just fuck me.”

The flash of his eyes is your only warning before he’s right there, your walls embracing the girth of his erection inch by inch. Every ridge, every jerk as he seats himself as deep inside your silken heat as he can is absolute heaven.

The stretch as you take him to the hilt sends you careening towards the edge, eyes rolling back and toes curling in your shoes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” you whimper.

“Shit!” Jungkook grits his teeth, squeezing the base of his cock as you tighten around him. With every deep inhale, his pelvis brushes your swollen, needy clit. “Forgot how good you feel wrapped around my dick, baby.”

“Me too,” You gasp, tightening your legs around Jungkook’s hips.”Me too, Kook.”

Dropping his forehead to yours, he says gruffly, “‘m not gonna last long.”

Making a noise of acknowledgement, you wiggle your hips. Sinking your teeth into the side of Jungkook’s jaw, you bite and suck at his skin, wanting to leave a mark to remember you by. His reaction is instantaneous, releasing the grip on his shaft to grab a fist full of hair.

He yanks back.

The long, elegant line of your throat is exposed to his butterfly kisses and scolding love bites.

“Now you’ve really asked for it,” Jungkook huffs out with a dirty chuckle.

“Then give it to me.” You lick your puffy lips, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Show me who I belong to.”

The brewing hurricane in his eyes is unleashed. Wide palms and strong fingers grip your hips so tight you feel bones grind together. His stance widens, his unwavering gaze locking onto your face, brow pinched, and mouth slack.

His lip piercing glints in the light, his tongue sliding out to wet his bottom lip. Dark curls tussle about his head, a wild halo that sweeps down into the burning umber of his eyes.

Helpless, you succumb - enchanted by the darkness peering at you from behind those dangerous eyes. He’s ethereal; a siren song that threatens to drown you, swallow you whole.

You’d happily let him, you realize with a shiver.

It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all.

“Hold on tight,” Jungkook says, hooking his hands under your bottom.

And then, he’s jackhammering into your cunt so hard and fast all you can do is hold on for the ride. Punch drunk and moaning as he manhandles you how he likes, spreads you wide and stuffs you full until you’re panting for breath and clinging to sanity by your fingernails.

“Fuck yes, that’s it. Look how well your pretty pussy always takes my fat cock.”

His low voice whispering filthy praises in your ear makes you whimper, whine, and writhe as the band of pleasure coiling tight in your belly comes close to snapping. It’s the fastest he’s ever fucked an orgasm out of you, and it feels so good you don’t even care.

The pace is brutal, slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips come morning. But it’ll be so fucking worth it. You’re going to cum hard and long, you just know it.

About to melt as Jungkook fucks the slick out of you, groaning as you drip down the base of his cock, his balls - his very own pretty little mess.

“Yeah, you gonna cum, baby?” he laughs, pressing a sweaty kiss to the side of your face. “Can feel how - haaah shit - how tight you’re squeezing me.”

“Uh-huh,” you cry, holding onto the tops of his wide shoulders. Every thrust has his cockhead dragging over the spongy patch of your g-spot, sending fissions of pleasure rocketing through your nervous system. “So - so close, baby. Just a little more, I--”

Balancing yourself, you lift up only to slam back down, meeting Jungkook’s thrust with all the force of gravity. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

Crashing over you like a tsunami, your orgasm shoots through your limbs and zips down your spine. A warm rush of cum soaks Jungkook’s shaft, the wet and messy sound of your squirt splashing against the floor secondary to the cry that claws its way out of your throat.

“K-Kook!”

Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he helps you keep bouncing up and down on his erection. “Yeah, that’s it - keep going, baby. Wanna feel you keep cumming all over this cock.”

Aftershocks slice through you like lightning, tiny jolts of electricity. As you come down from your high, your gummy walls pulse, milking at Jungkook’s thick shaft.

He groans softly whenever your muscles tense, release; your body a worn-out rubber band as your breath stutters from you.

Then a hand pets down your flank, your skin shivering with hypersensitivity at the tender touch. “S’okay. Just breathe, baby.”

Peeling open your heavy eyes, you look up at his face. Take in the crinkle of his brow and the ravenous expression. Even floating on a sea of bliss, white noise fills your ears, you want more.

You slur, determined, “Kook, baby, please. Cum in me, want you s’bad.”

“Fuck! Can’t just say shit like that to me or I…” Jungkook bites down onto the tender crook of your neck, muffling his grunts in your flesh. “Shit - ’m so --”

You cry out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, “A-haah, K-Kook!”

Snapping his hips forward one last time, Jungkook grinds as deep as he can get and lets go. The fat head of his cock kisses your cervix, his length throbbing in time with his heartbeat as a rush of cum floods your insides.

“Yeah, just like that,” he grunts, rutting once - twice into the cradle of your body, “take it like a good girl.”

He croons when you whine at the press of his pelvis against your oversensitive clit. Thready sparks of pain shoot down your legs that hang limply over his forearms. Every breath stutters from your lungs, slow and deep.

“No more, can’t - can’t…” Shifting, you arch your spine and burrow your head into his chest, nearly catatonic in his arms. “S’too much.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fingers brush over your closed eyelids, smoothing over the arch of your brow. With every kiss dropped to the top of your head, he mumbles in dulcet tones, “I really have missed you, you know.”

You mewl in response as strong fingers knead the backs of your thighs.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

“Oh,” you can’t muster up enough energy to say anything more, body tender and trembling with little aftershocks, “s’that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He chuckles. “You’re staying here - right where I want you.”

In lieu of a response, you pick your head up off the pillow of his chest and seek out his gaze. Liquid soft; he’s looking at you like you hung the world on a string.

“I’ve missed you too, Kook,” you say with a gentle smile.

You’ll allow yourself this moment of weakness when there’s no space between your bodies or hearts. Titles don’t matter much when he’s cradling you to his chest like a piece of precious china.

Between the two of us, you’re the one who hung the moon and stars, you think while combing back his sweaty bangs.

And I think I love you, you whisper voiceless against his lips.

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

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qvrcll · 5 months ago

Text

summary: with your subsequent marriages, you assumed that whatever friendship, and within it, desire and longing, you had with aemond in childhood had long since dissolved. but a dragon rarely ever yields.

warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD, childhood friend, non-targ reader, young betrothals, forced marriage mentioned, targcest marriage (a/h), possessive themes, dark aemond, (kinda) exhibitionism, finger in p, p in v, breeding kink, infidelity, cursing, slight dub-con but not really, aegon is a sorta decent friend if not a present and worthy husband, no dance of dragons

wc: 6.2K

author’s note: just watched ep 5 and i still stand by my slightly psychotic, slightly convoluted, wholly ambitious princess, but he’s on thin ice – aegon has suffered enough! you’ve made your point as king regent. this lowkey came to me in a melatonin-induced dream so excuse the errors if there are any, i haven’t written for this man since 2022! also, i’m so sorry aegon lol but then again, there is nothing more than friendship between him and reader – it’s just the principle that stings. oops :,) / dividers by strangergraphics

Carriage rides were always a handful.

More-so now, that you were a mother, cupping the back of your child’s head and bouncing him eagerly on your lap to keep him from fright, whilst your husband sat beside you, sticking his finger between the ridge of the little boy’s top lip and nose in a manner of teasing.

Rhaekar was a name that both you and Aegon had agreed upon. A fine name for a fine baby boy.

Fresh out of the womb and nursed delicately against your breast, Aegon’s usually frivolous and disengaged habits had quelled at the low cries that left the tiny bundle of cloth at your breast. He had uncharacteristically poked his head up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of the little wrinkled flesh, slick with blood and fluid.

He is tinier than I expected, he had said in a hushed tone, his ringed finger delicately tracing the fat of the newborn’s cheek, as if afraid to hurt it.

Most babies are, if not smaller, you had smiled.

It really was no secret. Your marriage with Aegon was not bourne out of love, nor willingness. He had detested duty, and you had grown cold at the thought of a loveless marriage. Even as you stood at the Sept steps, clothed head to toe in white that mirrored the marble of fresh-tasting cream frosting, cloaked in the regal cream of the Targaryen colours, the two of you had been too young to absolve or deny such a proposition.

But the years passed to prove that friendship could sprout in the absence of love. Aegon did not love you in a way you had hoped to be loved by someone, anyone. But he loved his son, and the friendship you held with him was near enough.

“He’s going to drool all over you,” you fuss gently, watching as your son takes his father’s finger into his two hands and grasps it like rope. A laugh is pulled out of Aegon – adoration is clear in his light irises.

“Do not worry, my dear boy,” Aegon drawls, broad and toothy smile catching the lines on his face, “Your father doesn’t mind.”

“He has grown.”

The third voice is a surprise, if anything. Yet it strikes a deep cord within you, familiarity bubbling in your chest at the age-old smooth voice, curved syllables.

Aemond.

You had been mildly conscious of his presence, and with him, Helaena, sitting across from you in the carriage. It wasn’t customary to be lodged in a single carriage like so, but with the destination being the annual hunt and Rhaekar’s name day, the family would need to be close. Well-knit as they walked out of the carriage for appearances.

Yet, you cannot help but hold Aemond’s one-eyed gaze for one second too necessary, to notice how he watches the three of you like a hawk.

Aegon breathes in softly, clearly distracted by the little babbling boy as he hauls him out of your lap at the arms and takes to playing with him more efficiently. You’re left to answer his brother’s question with a simple smile.

“The Maesters say he is growing up strong and fast,” your hands come to lay across each other on your lap, the action not being missed by the younger Prince’s steely, unreadable gaze. You almost burn under it, but you chalk it up to the closed space.

He doesn’t respond, but simply tilts his head forward in a single nod. When you look back to Rhaekar upon Aegon’s lap, he rips his gaze from your face to the youngling’s.

In his mind, he is barely hanging on. Stuffed in a carriage with a brother he would rather wrangle than humour, a lady wife he is bound to duty alone and the sight of his childhood companion – love, friend, half of his heart, whatever that constitutes – wed and mothering a son with not only another man, but his own debauched brother. He would sooner die than stomach that.

But Aemond holds more restraint than most mortal men. At least, he thinks he does. His single eye traces over the soft of your son’s cheeks and the ovals of his eyes – all traces of Aegon. All traces of you. His hands clench against the thick leather of his pants, trying to seem indifferent, as his eye trains back to your face.

Your gaze floats back to his. Only the two of you understand that there is a tension floating between you, but you alone do not understand it. He is hard to read now, more than ever. The event at Drift-mark had shut you out from all his previous behaviours, his usual antics and juvenile tendencies. Now, a hardened and roughened man remained, whatever trace of friendship conjured in your childhood being a mere floating memory now.

At least, it seemed like it.

“Ah, here we are,” Aegon chimes blandly, pointing to the carriage window to ascertain which Lords were which, and which camps held best.

The moment breaks as the footman hurries to the door, and with it, you step outside beside Aegon and clutch Rhaekar at your chest with a smile. Beside you, Helaena and Aemond step awkwardly together. The sight of cheerful men and ardent cheers overwhelm you, and you push back the feeling arising in your chest with a lost sense of conviction.

The maids are gentle with your son, and it is all that you need to quell your thoughts and feeling heart.

You are able to catch a moment of reprieve amongst the tent that was erected for the likes of you and Aegon. Being the first born son, the tent served to reflect exactly that. It lay amongst the middle of the camp, green silks draped over wooden posts in different shades, like thick vines draping from the ceiling. Where there had been thick ground outside, had now been replaced by a verdant carpet, embroidered by gold all throughout. An extravagant faux-throne stood at a few steps to the right, and a swath of low cushions to your left – toys lay upon those cushions, with your son teething at a toy that a maid had gently placed at his feet.

Lords and Ladies flitted from here and there, passing like blurring bodies in your vision. A few stopped to greet you, and engage in conversation is pressing their advantage, though you were polite. There wasn’t much to look forward to – the small array of ladies gathered around chairs and carpets would surely do more to discomfort you than engage you in something meaningful.

At the back of the tent, a low serving table lay with refreshments. For all your knowledge, Aegon never really did reign in his inhibitions – there was already a pitcher half-full, and a goblet half-drunk on it. Aegon was somewhere, possibly entertaining some few of his many Lordly friends.

The ache of love could not be quelled by friendship.

You sip your wine slowly. In times like these, left alone to your own devices and given the option to drink, engage or settle with some ladies, your mind tended to wander instead. You tilt your cup to your lips, the sight of the fruitful wine giving way to a faint image in your mind.

It was his twelfth name day. You remember it so clearly – waking up before the maids and selecting your frilliest, prettiest gown for the occasion, frowning and whining when they insisted different colours and styles, fashioned with embroidery or gems.

You had wanted it to be special for Aemond.

Being one of his most beloved childhood companions, you wanted every intention to count. You knew it mattered when you stepped into the gardens, dressed in a delicate green gown, with red-dotted jewellery to dot your neck and fingers. He had been standing there, waiting anxiously, and nearly fell face front when he approached you.

You look… really pretty, he had stuttered.

Thank you, Aemond, you had giggled, enjoying the way his tongue had turned liquid in his mouth at the sight of you.

The plans had been made that day – whatever he wished for. When breaking fast, he couldn’t keep a hold of his tongue as he clutched your palm and led you hastily down the halls of the Red Keep. He knew that the day would entail later; extravagance and little time. Little time for you, and the thought soured his mind.

First, there was the clearing near the woods. He didn’t mind the presence of the knights trailing behind much, and neither did you. All he cared for was the feeling of perching his head nervously against your lap, fighting a smile as you braided flowers within his hair. It had been a sweet, long affair. Next, it had been the banquet dinner, and he had saved a space in the chair beside his own. His smiles never left you, his eyes always chasing your own, smiling bashfully when he did something worthy of impression to you.

And then, at the end of the day, past the pesky guards and the prying eyes of your parents – came the Dragon-pit escapade.

What if we get caught? Someone could see us, you voiced in worry, despite your eyes betraying the excitement broiling in your gut. Aemond had merely tugged at your wrist, boyish grip a little too tight for comfort, yet neither of you cared much.

No one will catch us, he smiled nervously, as though unsure of himself.

When the two of you tentatively descended the rocky steps of the massive crypt, you had held closer to him. Aemond tried to calm the jump in his pulse when your palm squeezed around his, or the way your shoulder bumped softly against the ridge of his back when the dark got too frightening.

Just stay close to me, he murmured. Though only a few centimetres taller than you, he was speaking with more confidence than what lay in him.

You had stayed close with a tight nod, your soft breath against his nape. He was scouring the darkness – the smell of Dragon-spit and smoke marred the air heavily, and the mechanical groans of a few of the pit’s creatures emboldened the darkness a little more. You clung to him even tighter, the silk of your dress pressing against his leathers. When the first dragon, however unrecognisable, had grown weary of your intrusion and lit its flame, you covered your eyes and ears. He had ducked you behind him, though he quivered just as much, and had covered you with both arms in an embrace.

Look, he had breathed.

And what a sight it had been.

Yellow climbed atop orange as dragon-fire spilled forth from a gargantuan throat of an unnamed dragon. It raised across the dark rock of the ceiling, lighting the space like a well-lit room, the heat bearing down against you like the summer season of the realm. Where there was fear, now there was also awe, as you and Aemond clung to one another. When the room dimmed, the two of you ran hand in hand above ground, falling atop each other in a hurry to rid of the pit’s darkness.

The added weight of you above him was barely registered, with your childish laughter filling the air in cacophonies, his hands a welcome weight against your hips. However that night ended, you do not remember. Did the two of you trek to the Red Keep in barely concealed laughter? Or did you peek at the stars when the guise of friendship had moved on to a tenderer feeling?

“My Lady?”

You blink like a fish out of water. Your wine is long gone, and you find yourself staring at the maid in front of you, who views you with the same sort of concentration, just a tinge of concern in her eyes.

It appears your thoughts might have drifted – Rhaekar had been fussing for you from the carpeted floor, barely able to sit still against the silk drapery and consoling maids.

“Forgive me—“ you begin, setting down your goblet and lifting yourself off the chair you had unknowingly seated yourself upon, approaching the child with a twinkling smile, “My sweet boy. Do you miss me?”

The boy babbles happily at your voice, recognising the soft tone of his mother’s voice. He clings to the collar of your blue silks, the embroidery against your collar being fisted in his little hands. You smile, entertaining the small boy as the maids watch with an affectionate smile.

From the corner of the room, Aemond watched. He always did – and he had been, especially now. His eye had lingered when you were day-dreaming. How twisted it was for an unreadable man of his station to desperately want to know the inner workings of another. He supposed he was this sort of man now – barred and unaffectionate, cruel by practice.

His duty to Helaena was just that. There wasn’t love, but a deep-seated admiration and bond with the quiet girl. He had been close with his sister, but he had never seen her as more – they had hardly sired heirs of their own. Targaryen customs had never repulsed him; he was no stranger to the much exercised practices of his house. But there was no deeper reason to feel more for her and the act of intimacy was hidden deep in his chest, unwilling to be made known to anyone but you. And she felt the very same with her own duty, seated in the far corner of the room, taken to her maid, who watches as she palms a spider carefully.

But you – God’s, you were different.

His childhood companion of when he was much too young to know of the atrocities of loss and shame, the one he chased with his eye alone and caught in a full room. He could abandon all feeling and you would still be in his chest, thudding place of his heart.

He could hardly tear his one, assessing eye off of you. Those silks, that draped off your form, curving against you in the places he wished he could memorise. Your hair wasn’t the silver of his Targaryen own, but a colour of your own – he had always admired it closely in childhood, perhaps another outlet of his devotion of you.

But now, watching you tend to your child, a child that he could easily confuse as his own, he felt something… in his gut.

He was that sort of man now – the sort of man who knew long ago of what he truly wanted.

“Trouble?” he asks smoothly, without much hesitation or emotion, as he crosses the room to stand beside you. His arms are folded behind his back, a habit he had developed with his roguishness, as he looks down at you.

You’re hardly surprised. You knew he would seek you out somehow – perhaps for conversation. It felt nice, for a moment, regarding him without looking into his eye and seeing the tension that lay within it, raw and confusing. You were forced to bury whatever you felt beneath lines of formality.

“He always is,” you smile at Aemond, dusting the front of your gown as you straighten to your full height, “Are you having a good time?”

“I suppose,” he hums. Brisk and short – you do not mind. You have grown used to that. But what makes your hair stand on edge is the look he gives you. Like he is studying you, trying to figure you out. His eye blinks towards the room, uncharacteristically relieved to find Aegon nowhere near, before he offers his arm.

“Walk with me.”

More demand than request, but his tone is not at all harsh and soft in his own way. Watered down and guarded but not forced, like it was nature to be with you so. Your heart flutters in your chest. There is no reason to deny.

“Lead the way,” you answer with a familiar smirk, which leaves a ghost of a smirk on his own lips. You leave the tent, arm warmly wrapped against Aemond’s own, after ensuring Rhaekar was satisfied with the stuffed renditions of dragons and the maids that coo at him when the drapery slides into place with your exit.

If the men assembled around the camp were surprised by your company, they made no show of it.

No protest rang as you and Aemond made for a thin path in the woods, mind anywhere but within the moment. The heat of your skin was warming his rib and arm, and the presence of him was making a familiarity dawn upon you.

Where there had been easy conversation in the past, there were silences and the light crunch of boot upon leaf. You didn’t blame him much – the change does not repulse you. He had always been a thoughtful boy in the past, and the silence had only grown. He tended to think more now, second guessing his words and choosing which words to best fit with you. He didn’t know where the two of you stood – was it fit to feel greedy even now?

The sounds of the creaking woods and crackling leaves are finally broken by his speech, “How are you?”

You look at him with mild surprise, a soft smile on your face as you regard him. His one eye is genuine as it looks upon you.

“Do you want the truth or something soft-sounding?” you jest, but he merely breathes softly.

“You know what I want,” he states with not so much as a smile, but his tone is light. Did you know what he truly wanted? Perhaps not. It would frighten you, surely.

“I am well. Rhaekar left me a little exhausted and sore, but the recovery has come along well,” you answer, “Truly, I am well.”

He pushes his luck, “And your marriage?”

It should surprise you, but it doesn’t. He’s always been eager at his hand, no matter how much restraint he had learnt over the years.

You sigh through your nose, “My duty, you mean. It is… not as horrible as it ought to be. Aegon is… well, Aegon. We perform what we must. He is a friend to me, in a way. No lover. But… it is good, I suppose.”

Something about the mention of a satisfactory marriage with his leech of a brother had his mind boiling with anger. He didn’t expect – much less hope – for you to be miserable. No, he was never that cruel to you. Perhaps to others, but not you. But the smell of friendship unnerved him. It was how he was taken to you – would Aegon follow that same path, find himself infatuated and easily claim your heart as it was already done legally through marriage? Would he standing by the sides when time would run out?

“Hm,” he repeats, monotone. He was clenching his fists, you notice, and visibly stiff against you. Something had angered him, and you wouldn’t just sit around to find out.

“What is it?” you ask, a frown on your face.

He takes note of it, almost wanting to press his index finger against the middle of your brows, to see the frown dissipate. But he held his hands back – that greed would get the better of him.

He steels himself, stopping by a large tree. It looms above the two of you, like a sledge-hammer, the roots taking place underneath your feet in bumps and ridges. The leaves are speckled across the vast amounts of branches, green and white in the cold sunlight. But the gaze he gives you is enough to warm your insides for good.

“It irks me,” he speaks truthfully for the first time in years, and for once, it feels freeing. His conscience is still heavy, “Your marriage with the… likes of him.”

You pause. This was traversing some grounds, this stupefying discovery and suspicion. Your vows and your duty flit through your head like the numerous scrolls in the Sept, the weight of the realm atop your shoulders. You had seen him in similar lights, but the truth almost made him vulnerable, angry. Fear griped at your chest, as you look at him like he was strange for saying such a thing.

“Well, it shouldn’t,” your voice is wary, a swallow diminishing the flurry in your belly, “We have a duty to uphold. Me, to Aegon. You to Helaena.”

He comes to a halt beneath one of the branches, disgruntled in a way that you cannot see. Aemond feels his tongue slacken in his mouth, the weight of another man’s anger resting in his body – or was it his? Hidden and barely known, even to himself? Was it the anger, the bitterness, that he held as young child, now refusing to be shown?

You notice his stiffness, but make no move to coax him out of him. He had to snap out of it.

“You have Helaena,” you repeat, softer if only it would soothe whatever line he was transgressing, “She is your lady wife.”

He scoffs. It is a sound that catches you off guard. In the past, he would have conceded and offered a hasty apology. Or perhaps in reluctance. But he was brash now, bolder. His shoulders squared, as his head moved an inch to look back at you, silver tresses spilling over the jerkin he wore.

“Helaena. She is my dear sister,” his voice is blank, “There was never any sort of love there. You know that.”

Your eyes widen. He was being truthful, more than usual. He was unravelling, surely, and the coldness of the forest sears away to be replaced with a warmth that nips at your heel. His eye only holds some light of anger and truth, never fear – but that is within him, refusing to be shown.

You look at your feet, distractedly picking your gown up from an edge of a root, “She is your wife, nonetheless.”

The words work more to anger him – you know this because a piece of his jaw sets in place, and he fully turns to face you. He had always been a head taller, but now, he was towering above you. Looming. The tree barely intimidated you as such – regal beauty closing in on you like Valyrian smoke.

“She is my wife,” he begins again, voice low. He approaches you, and you move backwards on cue. He stops upon notice, a sharp breath breaking the silence, “But you—“

“But me?” your voice is incredulous, “What about me? What am I to you but a friend from childhood—”

He moved closer, and you lose some semblance of control as he crowds your space. Your back presses against the bark of the large tree, uncomfortable and poking against the soft length of your gown. But you do not care, and neither does he. His fingers almost reach up to touch your arm, but he doesn’t dare. Not yet.

“Do not fool yourself,” he sneers, one eye looking down at you in a way that burns your skin once again, “You are more. You might have not known, but I did – you’ve always been more.”

His fingers finally concede, tracing the gooseflesh on your elbow as you twitch under him. Your eyes are wide and shocked, but you do not make a move to stop him, nor his words. He knows you are a proud lady by nature – you could easily make quick of this conversation and never return to him. But your eyes hold the truth. You’re half curious, as you are fearful and just as selfish as him, though you think of yourself better at hiding it. He smirks slightly.

“You should have been mine,” his eye searches your face, his finger trailing up to touch the side of your chin, a touch too soft.

If the bottom of your stomach hadn’t dropped before, it definitely had in this very moment. The leaves rustle softly as you feel your back scratch against the bark, your face warming where he touches you. The two of you are crossing a line, the both of you, because you make no move to leave. You lean into his touch ever so slightly, seeking for the warmth that lies there. Targaryens and their heat.

“We mustn’t,” your voice is weak, barely a deterrence, but you try anyhow. You know better than to give into the urges, the fears and hopes that belonged to a whole different time. A time where the two of you were much younger, and ignorant in a sweet sense, making light of the weight on your heart. But now, festering all throughout your adolescence, it had begun to take root, “We belong to others—“

Aemond makes a sound between a grunt and a scoff, as he traps you against the bark. His hands loop around your waist, the touch dangerous and a tell-tale warning of yourself and him, too, in a sense. But he doesn’t losen his hold, and you sigh shakily as he hauls you closer, chest to chest.

“We belonged to each other long before we belonged to others,” he manages in a ragged tone. In a tone that suggests that you knew better, just like he did, and that it was no better playing the fool. You supposed he was right – it was out in the open, and the two of you were chest to chest, like he’d tear your gown open and make love to you in the solace of the forest alone. Not much to hide now. Not much to disguise.

But still, you try. You pretended to not know better.

“That was in childhood—“ you struggle against his arms, heavy breaths stifling your lungs like sea-smoke as he comes so close, too close. His lips are at the corners of your own, his one eye so close as to depict the many different etches in his eyepatch, “I am your brother’s lady wife now.”

He tightens his hold around the small of your back, and you fail to ignore the warmth that builds all over. You are beginning to feel fuzzy, to let go of all your inhibitions, your restraint. And he was too.

“The laws of matrimony were forged by men,” he speaks smoothly against your lips, “They mean nothing to me—not when it comes to you.”

Your last ditch effort to deny crossing the line is futile – you sharply move your face away from him, the sight of his face ripping away from your line of vision. It proves to be a poor effort, because he merely grunts, grabbing your cheeks with his calloused digits and shifting it back to where it was before. It is almost violent in a way, if it weren’t for the tenderness in which he looked at you.

Every breath feels heavy, and your hands come to rest against his chest, not knowing whether to push or pull. Your restraint was slipping, and there was little to stop you now. You could barely deny yourself, let alone him.

“Look at me.”

The order is so simple and you curse at how your eyes float to his. It was such an easy thing – finding his eyes in the harrowing darkness of the Dragon-pit, peering into his good eye and trying to ignore the blood and gore that marred his other, trying to discern his thoughts with a look alone. You had looked so easily.

And he knew. God’s, Aemond knew it.

The truth lay in them, as they had all along. Even with one eye, he was left blinded. How could he have let the pretence of your duties hold him back, when you were there for the taking?

You knew it too – the lack of such a burn was abysmal in your own marriage. The presence of it now left you cloudy brained, hazy, and you couldn’t navigate the barest of thoughts. Before, caution would have been exercised. Now, there was an utter lack of it. A lack of patience, a lack of restraint, and a lack of all of which made you and Aemond.

With a slow pace, you let slide your hand against the nape of his neck, slowly trailing up and feeling the long strands that lay there, pale and silver against your fingers. You had once told him that it reminded you of star light. The truth stood now, even in the barely concealed brevity of your fingers. Not that you cared.

All restraint that the Prince had once retained in childhood snaps like a string and he surges forward. His lips are rough and a clatter of teeth, gum and tongue. He is not a patient man – so when he angles your head and licks against your lips, you keep your lips sealed for the thrill of it. Nevertheless, he wrenches your mouth open with his tongue alone, wrapping around your own like a muscle well-trained, noting every sigh and moan that escapes you.

His hands are all over you. There is surprise in the way it trails from your neck to your nape, to the back of your head and down your hip, his fingers thumbing your breast in the decline. You shudder against him, and he swallows your groan in earnest.

“So eager,” he drawls, though the need is thick in his voice, “I thought your vows meant more to you than this?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back, a strangled moan leaving you seconds later, as his fingers dive beneath your skirts and thumb your slit in a slow swipe. The words of retort die in your throat as you clutch fiercely to his shoulders, his pressing weight being the only source of support.

He smiled, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, “You’ve always had a filthy mouth on you. A lady no less.”

No amount of breath could have braced you for the way in which his fingers dipped beneath the smooth fabric of your underwear, slipping past the pubic hair that lay there and catching your pearl in a tight-rounded flick. You moan in a way he hadn’t yet heard before, and his heart clenches uncomfortably. He had only ever felt such exhilaration when atop Vhagar, mapping the expanse of King’s Landing below. But he is greedy now – he knows that he can be.

He mouths a quiet ‘fuck’, as he positions his fingers in a way that breeches you so barely, before burying a long, lithe finger within you. He is not prepared for the way you buck against him, the broken syllables of his name leaving your lips – almost desperate. Did Aegon know that he was claiming his own wife so, with his fingers alone?

When his fingers ease you open enough, one too many to wrench just sighs out of you, he retreats his hand from your small-clothes. You whine at the loss of his warmth, the absence of the ball of his palm against your clit that warmed the wet flesh just right. He simply smiles, taking your earlobe into his mouth.

“Patience, ñuha jorrāeliarzy,” he purrs against the expanse of your throat. The odd, old language blends into his usual use of the common tongue, and you do not know how it excites you so. Perhaps the premise itself is so debauched – your childhood companion and the brother of your own husband dragging your own slick back and forth across your cunny, in the solace of a forest.

It only clicks after that he called you his love.

You can barely digest that thought when he barely steps back. His fingers hook against your small-clothes and yanks them down harshly, the fabric lying wet and soaked slightly between your legs. You feel no shame – you wish you did, because some clarity would do you some good. Instead, you hurriedly help him unlace the buckles of his leather, laces of his breeches. They lower enough to let his cock to spring free, sinful and dangerous as he presses the weight of him against you, dragging it across like a damn tease.

“Please,” you plead, breaths ragged and poor. He smirks, arms hooking under your shoulders to pull you closer against his chest.

“Your words, sweet girl,” he coos. The smirk that tears his face is devilish – you almost cower, if not for the lust clouding your system, the decade long affair boiling between you both.

“I need you to—“ you struggle at a swipe of his cock-head against your slick entrance, “I need you to—to fuck me.”

“Is that so?” he asks, amused, as he begins to press into you. So, so close, yet not enough.

You nod tearfully, “I need you—I’ve always needed you, and you’ve always known. I wish it was you. I wish we would have wed—“

The moan that rips through you is entirely his fault. The sharp way he breeches you, in one harsh moment – his fault. But who could blame him? The thought of you so desperate to change the course of fate, to be bound to him by matrimonial vows, makes his stomach burn. He knew he was a hypocrite – he had just sullied and mocked them, but if you were his by law, he would have made it count.

“Wanted you forever,” he grunts against your ear, cock spearing through you and splitting you in half against the bark of the tree. The bark bites into your back, and your hips begin to burn. He smells of Dragon-scale and fire. He must have ridden Vhagar sometime this week – it makes you clench tightly around him, as he stutters, pushing in deeper, “I would’ve wed you in a heartbeat, if not for those fucking duties.”

You aren’t faring any better than him, moaning and whining as he ploughs into you, holding you up with his strength alone as he batters you endlessly. He speaks again, pleasured at the sight of you so wordless, “Don’t care much for that. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. My insolent brother would do good to remember that—fuck.”

You clench against him again, “Aemond—“

“Could spill my come in you now,” he pants, angling your hips to reach further into you, like he was taking the good parts of you and sullying them, just so he could lay his claim on you, “That fool would never know—you’d be round and swollen with my babe and he’d never fucking know—”

Excitement and fear gripes at your heart, as you look up at him in slight alarm. But you cannot help but entertain the thought – the mere thought of him laying claim on you so viciously, a formidable dragon in his own right, not caring for whatever that kept you apart. Gone was the boy that feared overstepping, that feared distance. Here was a man that would make space if he wished for it, lay claim on you because he craved you so.

With a strangled call of his name, you bite his shoulder firmly – not enough to cause hurt, but enough to have him grunt – as you near your release. A creamy ring forms around the base of his cock when he looks below, and he knows the sight is his undoing. He is close – so close.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he taunts, yet spears in harder, “You’d like that so much.”

You can only nod helplessly, lost to the sensations swimming in your veins. He grunts through a wrangled moan, aroused by the way you let him.

It isn’t a surprise when you come first. It is a goal of his – as a man, to bring you ecstasy, before his own. But when he does come, it is deep within, a warmth that fills your body as he spills his seed deep inside your cunny. The two of you struggle against each other with ragged breaths, and his hand settles against the small of your back again, the touch leaving an impression.

“You’re insatiable,” you groan, though playfully, as you watch the product of his come drip from beneath you. He barely gives you any words, as his fingers collect the slick and quickly stuff the escaping wetness back in, ignoring the way your hips twitch away from him. Sensitivity. It makes him smile cruelly.

“Don’t you waste a bit of it,” he speaks, voice a drawl, thick with want. The weight of the truth lay between you two, but there was no need to navigate such a thing. You had known long, long before, even buried it underneath lays of flesh and bone.

He helps you dress again, and then himself, quick and expertly, your small-clothes containing the eager spill of his seed between your thighs. You do not miss the way his one eye glitters with some dangerous sense of pride, how he kisses your neck only so slightly. You smile, laughing softly, as he curls into the side of you, claiming a part of you and aiming for more – until you smell of nothing but Dragon-smoke and sweat.

“Let’s head back, before the others grow suspicious. For good reason,” you tug at his arm, your smile a balm against the ruined convictions of his past.

He offers a rare smile, letting himself be led away by you, just like in childhood, “Let’s.”

There was no need to fret the words – the two of you have always known, in some sense. Perhaps you’ll figure the future out sooner than you had before, with the added weight of him against your body.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen drabble #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fic #hotd fic

1K notes · View notes

moonieandi · 4 months ago

Text

snapshots pt. 6 | stanley pines x f!reader

summary: the third year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning staying

warnings (TW): swearing, alcohol consumption, nicotine use (gross! but perhaps…sexy?), illegal activities, piercings, gore, panic attack/panic-inducing situation, slight sexual themes

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining, miscommunication but like with body language?

notes: the end of an era rip stan’s mullet circa 1985 (according to me and me alone). also like i 100% believe Stan plays in the pool mmk, like def rough housing when yall go swimming i just didn’t wanna write it. But in the back of your mind okay- just know deep down that yall had fun

thanks again for the notes and the comments and the reblogs omg i love reading anything yall leave fr lol- ahhh thanks again <3

word count: 6.8k (yo what howd i manage this)

| masterlist | part vii |

February, 1985

They had decided to go out that night, making excuses about missing the new year.

They hadn’t noticed the clock ticking by from December into January, consumed with new wiring in the basement connected to the user panel for the portal.

She had been ranting and raving again, like he had hated in the beginning of it all, but slowly began to crave in the end of it. He had begun to slowly understand those rants in the coming months too, thanks to her hurried chalkboard drawings of random continuous circuits. He closed his eyes now and could identify different AC and DC currents in the lines of the darkness in his dreams.

Work would consume them at random, and he had begun to find her downstairs late into the night after having dragged her to bed. She’d creep out into the hallway, lingering in his bedroom doorway. Tucking blankets around his broad shoulders, only to find her way downstairs to the last remnants of Stanford.

He saw his brother in her at every turn as of late, found his last visage in her shaking hands and deep-seated eyes. He’d tie her to the bed if he had to, no matter how the image shook something deep in him. She’d sleep tonight, and he knew of a way to do it.

Distract her.

So he took her out to the bar singing to her about the new year that had already come and gone, dragged her up the stairs to change into something that wasn’t covered in oil and dirt, and got her out the door within an hour.

She looked better now, her eyes less clouded and her smile more radiant than he’d seen in days. She had felt cold for months, and he believed it his own fault because he had pushed her away.

He had had another dream, more vivid than the previous, and it had shocked him awake so fast in the dead of the night that he actually stumbled to her open doorway, making sure she was where he had left her in his dream. The dream where he had touched her where she had never actually allowed, where he had begged her for words and for more and she permitted it. Allowed him to creep into her bed and make her his, but it had been sickening this time, the sweetness he felt for her, and he woke believing it to be an absolution. He didn’t deserve to think of her like that, because she had never allowed it. So he would never allow it.

That sickening ache he has felt refused to let up though. And it only twisted into something deeper when he thought of her, thought of her as his wife. The only allowance he had of her, in only words.

The shake of his hands when he reaches for her now is hard to hide, as hard to hide as his racing heart from himself. His subconscious screamed something anxious when he looked at her now, screamed something of promise and something sickeningly sweet like adoration.

He wouldn’t use the bigger more unexplainable word. She didn’t feel the same, he reasoned, so it couldn’t be that.

So he ignored his heart, his shaking hands, and the ache in his chest. How his stomach twisted when she laughed and how he forgot about it all when he had a drink in his hand.

He had been cold to her recently, and she had retraced all the steps in her mind on how it consequently was all her fault. All her fault that he pulled his hand from the back of the couch now, how he twisted weirdly in his car seat when she sang on the way home. How he wouldn’t look at her anymore, peering through her when she talked to him now across the kitchen table.

It was all her fault, she reasoned, that he was no longer warm.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it whispered dark things sometimes. Her lack of intelligence weighed on her. She wanted to prove she could do what they had both set out to do together. Wanted to prove she could bring his brother home, in hopes his warmth would return. So she had slaved away these past months, in hopes he could look at her again.

But she had forgotten that for now, drink in her hand and eyes already blurry. Laughing at his usual gag of making fun of people around them, creating fake stories about passerbyers, and twisting tall tales about their mundane lives. He hadn’t dragged his eyes from her all night.

She had interrupted their usual cadence, a sudden drunk contemplative look in her eyes.

“Ya know.” She sloshed her drink around, the ice almost being the only thing left. “I still sometimes feel as young as I did when I first left home. When I left for college.” She hums, turning her eyes to him. “Do you ever feel like that?”

“Ah sometimes.” He answers, finishing off his drink and looking to the bar to get them both another, straying his eyes from her for the first time in hours. “But then I remember how my back feels in the morning.” She laughs.

“No! I mean like, do you feel just as stupid as you did when you were eighteen?” Taking her eyes off of him, a blush bloomed across her face.

He feels stupid around her, mostly. But a different weird kind of stupid. So he agrees. “Ya, doll. I get what you mean.”

“Hey…” she’s giggling now, a smirk creeping around the corners of her mouth. “You can still have my bed, Stan.” She said, referring to his stiff back courtesy of Sixer.

His dream flashes behind his eyes again, of creeping into her bed at her insistence. How she had peeled the covers back and waved him into her. The swell of her hips and the quirk of her brow. He flees, suddenly feeling sober in the face of her. She didn’t mean it like that anyway.

“How about another drink, hun?” She perks at that, at the name. But nods her head, moving her glass back to his waiting hand as he makes for the bar.

Tonight had been good, more peaceful. And the most she’s been able to talk to him in a while without the abrupt interruption of guilt that came with living above his brother's graveyard now. Three years, each one more daunting than the last. That and the usual tirade of her self-conscious mind was dimmed in the wake of her numerous mixed drinks.

But his company was distracting, was always distracting. So she fell into it with ease tonight. The easy cadence between them, his carefree affection he gave when he was hazy, even the rhythm of the music in the bar was enchanting tonight. She was drunk, she knew that for sure. It made her lips loose and her shoes shuffle weird.

She wanted to dance, to move across the floor. But she only wanted to if he followed in her shadow. Something she usually wouldn’t ask of him, but the drink had absolved her of her usual anxieties. It made the aching heartfelt feelings for him intensified, the thought of him so close to her. She liked that, that feeling. Craved it most days now, especially in his continued absence.

He came back to her, bar lights lit the back of his head much like they had when she first laid eyes on him that December day more than three years ago. He had a rugged handsomeness to him, sporting new short hair. Something she had teased him about, fake crying at the loss of his long grown-out mullet. She didn’t linger on the feeling of having missed out on running her fingers through his long tousled curls.

He was his usual charming self, achingly so. His smirk lit his face as he passed back over her drink to her, but she reached across for it in his haste to give it to her. Meeting him on the rim of the cup as her fingers curled around his big ones.

“Staaannnnnnnn!” She said, a smile blooming across her face. “We should dance!” Perking up in her seat, twisting her fingers around his own. Tracing her thumb across his large palm.

He flushes like he always does when she touches him. He's much like her though, buzzed off the atmosphere and her presence. It isn’t completely out of the ordinary that he would say yes to anything she suggests, especially when she looks at him like that.

Her smile tilted, they leave their new drinks behind. Something that normally would concern him if he didn’t know almost everyone in the room at the moment, having seen almost every local come through his tour in the following years. That and he had evenly glared at every man in town in passing, specifically when he was following in her wake.

The lights in this part of the bar were different. Dimmer in this corner in particular, only lit up by the continuously changing old jukebox in the corner. The lights reflected off her face made him stumble forward.

The song was nothing recognizable to him, but she seemed to enjoy the rhythm anyway. Twirling her hands up and unconsciously moving her hips. She laughed at his stiff posture, reaching for his hand and pulling him into her.

“You gotta move Stan.” She had said between them. “Like this.” Picking up his arm, and curling it around her.

She’d admit to herself later that she isn’t the best dancer, but she had dreamed of his touch for months since he had pulled away this past October. And she was too much of a craven to do it sober.

So she placed his hands on her waist without much thought, and she dug her hands into his broad shoulders- just because it felt right. He hadn’t hugged her for a while, the memory of their first embrace, down in the basement rang around her head. He had hummed a certain way that day, her ear in the junction of his shoulder as he tried to soothe her for the first time.

She would be the death of him. He had swore it up and down. The way she looked in the changing jukebox light was riveting, made him stutter over words, and made his hands wander. She was warm and laughing against him, the song drowned out by the entirety of her.

Suddenly the song shifts, and her smile gets impossibly brighter. She swings out of his embrace, still holding onto his large hand. Moving with the beat of a familiar song.

She’s utterly hypnotizing like this, the beat of the song drowning out the sound of his racing heart. He couldn’t tell if it was the song that convinced him of this or her, but she captures a small part of his mind as she drags him around giggling on the dance floor. He doesn’t care much for what his limbs do anymore, pulling her back to his chest and letting her muffle her laughter into his shoulder again. He finds himself laughing with her, eyes drifting up and down her form in his arms now.

She revels in the proximity. She had longed for his warmth in the past months, aching to have him look at her like he is right now. He was finally looking at her, not through her. It didn’t feel like the normal disjointed affections tonight, he felt whole against her for the first time in months. And she couldn’t help but laugh at how much she pitied her past self for having thought she had to beg for his presence. He gave his attention readily tonight, and it was a balm on her anxious mind and made her drowsy in comfort.

The song came to an end, but his hold did not waver. His hand reaching from her back to her loose hair, moving it away from her flushed exerted face to see the crook of her smile. Her eyes drooping now, her heart steady against his own.

“Ready to go, doll?”

She nods, but stops, dizzy at the movement, and giggles to herself. Burrowing into the palm that rests near her face now. She points to the back of the bar, in the far corner.

“Restroom, doll?”

She nods pulling away from his warmth and his palm. She would be back.

“Mmmk, I’m gonna close the tab and I’ll meet you outside alright?”

She nods again, moving to the much-needed restroom. He wanted to go outside, she figured so he could have a smoke. Something she had chastised in the very beginning all those years ago, but he had a good habit of at least wondering outside to do it on the porch. Sometimes she would follow him out when they were holding those kind of conversations that would follow you from room to room. It had made her stop and stare that first time, finding the way the smoke curled and left his mouth to be captivating. The way he would talk around it, cigarette resting in the corner of his mouth. Something so life-altering shouldn't be alluring, but he had a habit of doing that to her.

She makes her way back out of the bathroom, their booth empty except for his winter jacket he had left behind for her. Their drinks were long gone and cleared from the table despite them never having touched them. He didn’t even give her shit about not finishing a drink tonight.

She slips his big red coat on, running her hands along the corner patch like she always does. The coat smells more like him in the colder months for some reason.

She turns back to the bar, an older woman waving her over and vying for her attention. She swears she has seen her before, her red hair catching in the barlight. Probably in the giftshop at some point, looking for cheap merchandise for the holidays to give to family.

“You both are just so cute!” The older woman remarks as she gets closer to her, her smile inviting.

“Ah, why thank you.” She smiles, thinking of Stan waiting for her outside.

“How long have you been married?”

“Just had a two-year anniversary.” She hums, thinking about their usual December diner date that had come and gone. He hadn’t drawn with her that year, though. Something that had become a bit of a tradition between them both.

It struck her then. That they hadn’t been acting much different in regards to the revelation they had just two years ago when she spilled that she had tied herself to him indefinitely. That they had never accommodated themselves to act more “married” for the sake of illusions. That everything they did had come naturally to them both. This woman in front of her proved it, they hadn’t acted any differently than they usually would have tonight.

For a split guilty second, she wonders if it’s a lie for Stanley if he's just that good of a conman and she’s too achingly sweet on him to notice it all. She shakes the visage off like a bad dream, remembering his glassy eyes that December day all those years ago when he had leaned into her side swearing up and down that he wasn’t any good for her. Stanley never lies about anything that could hurt her. He’d never hurt her.

She sighs, but he's been so cold. Wrapping his red jacket around her, feeling the warmth and smelling the scent he had left behind in it. They’d be okay though, with time.

“Basically newlyweds then, dear.” The nice older woman comments. The woman looks her up and down, a contemplative smile on her face. She knew she looked weary. “Bit of advice dear?”

“Hmmm?”

“Having you around is enough.” She hums. “Just gotta be there for him, stay close dear. Always stay.” The woman reached forward, wrapping her hand around her shoulder.

Contemplative she nods at the woman, thanking her. Making her way outside and taking the statement to heart. Perhaps she didn’t need to overthink what was wanted and act on what was needed. He must need her, must need her close. She had thought to work herself to the bone to bring back his warmth, but maybe all that was needed was her constant. To be a constant for him.

She thinks about the way he used to melt into her side on the couch, how he would lean into her palm on his cheek. How he had just reached for her, moments ago. Encasing her in his arms. She didn’t need to find words to soothe him. She never did.

He was leaning on her passenger side door. A lit cigarette lighting his face. Handsome as all hell like that, his big hand dragging through his stubbly cheek. Dark eyes followed her from the door to the car. Wouldn’t be hard to be a constant for a man like that. And he stole all her words anyway, looking like that.

He nods, bending to open her door with a quick flourish of his hand, dramatically bowing to her as she ducks into the passenger seat, giggling at his antics.

He follows suit, bending and folding into the drivers side. Cranking his window down so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger in the car.

His legs bent and parted, his hand nursing his smoke. She moves to him almost unconsciously, still at a loss for words in his simple presence. Thinking about what the older woman had said to her in the bar, jumbled up in her mind. Stay close, right?

She settles into the middle part of the long bench, reaching for the radio and ignoring his imploring gaze.

“Hun?” He implores. “You gonna move?”

She shakes her head, moving her eyes back to his again before straying her gaze to the cigarette stuck between his lips now.

“No baby.” She slurs, giggling at him as she plucks his smoke from his mouth, moving it to hers.

She had never called him that before, and it makes him need to readjust in his seat, suddenly hot in the cool February air. She’d be the death of him, he swears. Especially with her eyes tilted like that, and the way the smoke curls up around her face and hair. It’d be burnt into his mind for a while, this image of her. It’d be enough to sate him for months he figures.

He does not correct her, nor make her move. Just reaches past her, buckling her securely into the middle spot without leaving her tilted gaze. His heart in his throat. His hands begin to shake again.

That damn song rings out from the radio, pulling her eyes from his as she giggles at the contraption. The song's rhythm almost seems to match his heart, stuttering at her form folded into the middle of the front seat. The cigarette balanced in her mouth.

She leans over him, hand finding his chest as she reaches out the open window. Flicking their now shared cigarette into the winter snow. Her palm is warm on his chest, and she drags it to his shoulder as she returns to her seat in the middle of the long bench. A long searing path it leaves across him, she’s warm beside him in his fucking jacket. She’s gonna kill him.

Something deep in him can’t reason with his stupid logic anymore though, not when she’s like this. So much more carefree than she’s been in months, and something rings around the back of his mind reminding him that it is his own goddamn fault that he can’t control himself. Never hers. Nothing really was ever her fault in his eyes. So if this is what she needed tonight, to feel some semblance like herself for the first time in months, then he wouldn’t flinch away from it. Because it’s all his fault anyway, that rotten part of himselfs fault. That bad part of him, that wanted her for more than this. He wanted to use her, he reasoned. That bad part of him wanted to use her, but she needed him like this. But she had allowed it, so he would do as she needed.

So he lets her curl up into his side in the car on the way home. His hand runs through her hair as she hums the lyrics to that goddamn song into his ear. It’s hypnotizing he thinks, but not the song no, it’s all her. She was that hypnotizing thing, and he had fallen back into her with an ease that would be embarrassing if he gave a shit tonight. But he only has one thing on his mind, and that’s getting her back home. She’d sleep well tonight, he thought.

July, 1985

“Stan, why didn’t we think of this years ago?”

“Why didn’t I think of this years ago you mean,” he hums, one arm hung out the open window of the car. “And it’s because I am stupid.”

She scoffs, reaching across the middle of the front seat to shove his broad shoulder. He laughs, his head thrown back as she grumbles next to him. She hates when he says that shit. She had made a note on the fridge, etched out in her scrawling handwriting that the word “stupid” was forbidden in their house. Mainly because she had found it appalling how used to calling himself sstupid he was. He had joked, reaching for the note on the fridge on occasion. Tearing it down just to say the word, and laughing as she would chase him in and out of the living room to the kitchen. It wasn't allowed, he would joke, but only because it was on the fridge. She’d fume, making a new note, and hanging it up where the old one had resided. He just did it to get a reaction really, when she was annoyed at him it was adorable.

Which was why she was huffing in the passenger seat, and it only made it better when he pulled the note he had plucked off the fridge when they left, from the back pocket of his swimming trunks.

“Stan!” She whined, reaching across to him again, unbuckling herself to get at him.

“Ah Ah!” He waved the sign. “It doesn’t count!” Mocking her rule, and watching her squirm over to him to reach across his chest to grab at the sheet of paper she had remade for the fourth time not even a week ago.

“Stop it!” She said, leaning over him now, her chest to his as she begged him. Was she pouting?

He can smell her now, so he relents. Kind of all he wanted, he reasoned in his mind, that sickeningly aching part of him that is.

“Okay okay!” He almost hands her back the sign, but quickly swipes it from her almost-grasp just to tease her. “But only if you get us some ice cream.”

She hums, nodding along and reaching for the paper again. “Ah ah!” He protests. “You gotta say it.”

“Yes, I will get us some ice cream, Stan.” She rolls her eyes, hands out and waiting.

He gives it back, and she successfully puts it back into her beach bag to later hang it back up on the fridge.

They had both become exhausted by the summer July heat. The AC window unit they had put up to alleviate some of the swelling heat only operated on the second floor of the house. They had been lying around, miserable together, when he had remembered that this tiny town actually had public accommodations in the form of a pool. She had jumped up from the living room ground in joy and had raced upstairs to change so fast he had barely finished explaining how he’d subsequently had forgotten about said pool.

It was a smaller pool for sure, but this was a small town to begin with. They just needed to be in the water, stat.

They made their way inside the enclosed pool, finding a seat by the poolside to share that day as the pool was obviously busy in the heat of July. He had grumbled about the lack of shade and trees, thinking about the usual sunburn he and Ford would get when on Glass Shard beach.

She had found a spot though, setting her bag and towel down, and beginning to take off her shorts and shirt cover.

He didn’t look, thinking the act to be too intimate to witness anyway. He sat on the edge of the seat, slipping off his shoes and beginning to take off his own shirt, his back to her.

Of course, she was wearing a bikini.

The color complimented her well, and although he couldn’t name details on the suit he’d have the image forever encapsulated in his mind. Especially her bent over like that, as she reached down to remove her shoes.

She made her way in front of him and his slack jaw, her hands on her hips and her head tilted in question.

“Are you coming?”

“No.” He said automatically, sounding defensive. Rethinking, he shakes his head. “I mean, yes.”

He moves his eyes down, noticing something catching the July sun on her swimsuit. No not her swimsuit, on her.

He squints, reaching forward to grab at her hips, bringing her closer to him so he can see what he thinks he sees in the shade she now provides.

“Is that… is that a piercing?”

He had never seen her belly button before. Something that may have shaken a normal husband, but considering she wasn’t actually his he tried to reel in his subconscious insistence that he should have known about this.

“Yes?” She says, laughing down at him.

He removes a hand from her hip, moving to touch the belly button piercing himself. It was completely healed, not in any way brand new. Ignoring how soft her skin was, he looked back up at her.

“When you get this doll?”

She shrugs. “When I was in college. Someone dared me $50 I wouldn’t do it.”

Fuck. He leans his head forward, unintentionally nestling into her soft stomach. She did it for money.

She was almost too much, too good to be true. She fit into him like a puzzle piece sometimes, and he was still continuously amazed by her for some reason.

Trying to tame some odd part of him he looks back up at her. She’s gorgeous, the sun framing her smiling face. She’s laughing at his reaction, a flush to her cheeks at his casual affection for her.

She leans forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and tilting his head back. She moves to put her hand under his scruffy chin, asking him again if he was coming along into the pool with her.

He nods, following in her wake. They eat their ice cream in shared amusement all the way home after a hectic day in the pool.

*******, ****

“I can’t believe he had it this whole time.” He says, leaning back into the rolling chair stationed in the front of the portal's control panel.

She hums, peering over his shoulder as he moves back and forth over controls. Flipping and turning things she nudges him in indication to move. The two journals rested on the workbench, the third picture they had taken from the third journal most recently, which had rather unsurprisingly been in the young boy’s possession.

“You know Dipper. He’s too curious for his own good.” She hums, looking back over his broad shoulder to the portal beyond the protection glass. They had successfully gotten a reaction out of it just the following night, and it had shocked to life, throwing gravity off normal equilibrium for a few moments. She had taken that into consideration, floating around potential reasons for the anomaly in gravity and the correspondence to the potential space-time hole they had punched into their basement wall.

He leans back in the chair, turning to look at her fully now. Weathered and handsome now, gray hair curling around his ears and his glasses. Just as whole and broad and goofy as he usually was. His wedding band glints on his finger as he reaches for her, a smile growing on his face.

“You knew didn’t ya?” He says, laughing at it all. “You knew he’d find the stupid thing?”

“I had an inkling that he may have found it.” She sighs, leaning forward, exhausted, as he runs his large hand up and down her back in a soothing motion.

He huffs. She’s always one step ahead of everyone. Not that she would tell anyone but him, her husband. He found it amusing when everyone was surprised by her intelligence. It wasn’t a secret to him in the slightest, that she overthought and rewrote a hundred different ways to handle situations in her head. She was weirdly graceful like that, but subsequently also filled with an edge of constant anxiety.

She had been anxious about the little things today, he could tell. She woke up earlier than normal today but hadn’t moved from his arms. Eyes open and staring at him endearingly in the early morning sun. Usually, it was the other way around. But she had been like that since the kids, really.

She was also worried about the party, and the townsfolk visiting so close to an active portal. But she had quickly become distracted by making snacks for the celebration tonight, and coloring posters with the girl about their “karaoke family group”. Something with a stupid name he couldn’t remember, but something he figured she helped the girl come up with.

“You’re too soft on him.” He says, pulling her closer to him, lifting his head to rest on her chest as she stands in front of him. Her brow twists, a contemplative frown on her face. The argument they’ve been having silently for the past few weeks arising once again between them.

“No.” She sighs, running her hand over his scruffy warm cheek. “You’re too hard on him.”

He hums. “You know why though.”

She nods. “I know, dear.”

Her hands fall to his shoulders, pulling him away from his usual place along the front of her. Pulling his scruffy chin up with the tip of her finger, all the while smiling at him. Tonight had been good, she thought. The kids were happy, and the girl was excited to entertain the town and her friends. The boy had been upset at the reprimand he had received earlier, but she doubted that really deterred him from his mission to uncover the oddities in that journal he carried around religiously now. He’d be over the reprimand by tomorrow, she figured. She worried he may get himself into trouble one day though.

But her husband had been right in his assessment. Between the two of them, they had agreed there was too much Ford in the young boy than they could manage between the two of them. She was constantly worried about him, worried his curiosity may lead him to unexplainable and more dangerous situations than they could pull him out of him. But his twin, the girl, just as easily wrangled him in. The young girl was a balm on her conscious, constantly reminding her that being so young had been a true pleasure. She just hoped the girl could also remind her brother of this too. There was a lot of her husband in the young girl, she was just as charming.

Stan was looking at her though, his typical flirtatious smirk on his face. It had been a good night. The portal whirled behind them both, and the music upstairs spoke of the fun the kids were having. She leaned into him, wanting to meet his lips halfway.

An alarm blared throughout the basement. The security alarm breach that they had put on the upstairs shack door in case of burglary, but more for the warning in case the government came knocking.

Their faces turn to the giftshop's security camera, the image of the boarded-up front door settling unevenly in her stomach. The kids.

Something was bursting, punching in and rattling the front door. The children were moving furniture and chairs in front of the entrance. Speaking and screaming between themselves as they made a barricade.

She runs, removing herself from his warmth. They both make for the elevator, hastily hitting the button to go up a story so they could go from the sub-basement to their actual basement. He was breathing heavily next to her, his large hand folded into her own smaller one. His hair a mess from pulling at it in anxiety.

The stairs came to view in dim light, and she raced ahead without a thought. Taking the stairs two at a time as she dragged him up to the back of the vending machine that led to the stairwell.

She let go of his hand, making to move the vending machine out of place to enter the gift shop. To get to the scrambling, scared kids. But it wouldn’t budge under the weight of what lay in front of it. What had amassed in front of the front entrance, they hadn’t caught a glimpse of. But she could smell it, the stench of rotten flesh and the mellowing bellow of the whining undead. Fear ripped through her, but she kept shoving because the fucking kids were in there.

She yells at him, frightened as she advances her shoulders away and back into the door. Shoving her whole body to move the entrance. “Stanley!” She yells, anxiety running through her.

But he’s already shoving too. Already has his arms flush to the door, digging his feet into the step for traction as he pushes his whole weight against it. He’s almost caged her in, dwarfing her in his effort to put his own momentum to the door too. His eyes frantic and his breathing hasty. The kids were all alone in there.

Desperate, she beats her hands against the door, calling for the children in hopes they would seek them out in safety. “Mabel!” She gasps, fists bloody against the wood. “Mason!”

He drags her back, taking her fists in his hands as he begs her to stop. He takes a lunging step back, pushing her against the stairwell railing. He shoves his whole body against the door, his broad shoulder first, and his suit ripped due to the movement and the force. His own hands and fists bloody from the abrasive door and his haste to get to the twins.

The door breaks under his weight, and he uses the leverage of the new material to work against the amount of dead bodies that had amassed in front of the vending machine. She follows him out, not thinking twice about the undead surrounding them. Her heart in her throat, her hand wrapped around his bicep as he reached for the bat they kept near the entrance to the Mystery Shack from their home. She screams their names again, clawing to get through the crowd of undead.

“Babies!”

She gasps, spotting them in the sea of bodies. The young girl's sweater ripped and torn under the hands of all the undead. The boy’s hat missing, his usual jacket she had tucked over his shoulders that morning also torn to shreds, covered in inky black blood. Their eye’s lifeless.

Stanley turns to her, his eyes hasty and clouded, and his breaths loud. He looks down at her, his shoulders shaking from pent-up tears. His hands meet the sides of her face, and he chokes out something that could be a question.

“Honey?”

“Honey!”

He leaned over her, his hands still on the sides of her damp face.

He had rushed from Stanford’s room to her open doorway. The cool October air leaking in from his open window, leading him to her room. She had called for him, called for Stanley, and it had shaken him awake so suddenly he had tripped in the hallway to make it to her side.

She had been dead asleep, and sweating heavily despite the crisp air. Curled into her multiple blankets and tucked into a sweatshirt he had sworn he had misplaced, but she had laughed at in secret. Tucking away the sweatshirt that held his imprint to wear to bed and fold herself into.

It was drenched now, and her eyes were blurry when she woke to his call. She was breathing erratically, heart stuttering in her chest and mouth dry from her calls. Her eyes searched his for what felt like hours, as he reassured her that it had all been a dream.

“Hun? Hun, it was a dream. It was just a dream.” He reasoned, his large hands running through her tangled messy hair. Finding their way to the back of her neck so he could hold the entirety of her upper half in his palms. Breathing easy in her presence to show her how to slow her heart.

She didn’t say anything until he moved from her, beginning to reach around to her dresser to pull out a new shirt for her to wear.

“No.” She mumbled. “No.”

“I ain’t leaving, just getting you something new hun.” He reassures but doesn’t let his hand leave hers as he steps towards the dresser in her small room. Pulling open the top drawer, as she sat up in bed behind him. His hand still clutched in hers. Her eyes were still far away, searching dark corners of the room for children.

He turns back to her, handing her another one of his large shirts. She had all but stolen his wardrobe in the past three years. Sometimes he would wander to her dresser to find some of his clothes that had made a home in her dresser. Something he wishes he could have done himself, by choice. Put his clothes next to hers.

She takes the shirt, releasing his hand to undress herself from the sweatshirt. He turns around, thinking to step back through the doorway to go back to Stanford’s bed.

“No.” She says again, pulling at his own loose shirt, stopping him in his move. So he stops, back still turned as he listens to her change. She tugs the end of his shirt again, and he turns to look at her in the dark room.

She pulls his forearm, her small hand grasping at his large arm as she tries to strongarm him closer. He moves to her, sitting on the edge of her bed, searching her far-away eyes for something. She brings his large palm to her face, resting her now cooling cheek in his grasp.

“Stay.” She commands.

He would do anything she asked. He had been so rattled by the call of his name, the rip of her voice, how scared she sounded. He doubted he’d leave her side for a while, until she asked him to go. Then he would leave again. So he crawls into bed with her, shuffling her to the other side, to the wall. He takes the side she used to reside in, her warmth leaking into him. The imprint she left behind encased him. He’s closest to the door, reasoning in his mind that the dark shadows of the hallway would just frighten her more.

She shuffles over, still sitting up as she rearranges blankets up to his shoulders, tucking him in, in an odd way. He doesn’t say anything but chuckles at the sentiment. She then lays next to him, facing him in the middle. Her blankets shuffled up to her own shoulders.

She sighs deeply, soothed by his presence after waking up in shock. It had been so real. Like she couldn’t tell the difference between them, between wakefulness and dream state. Like she had dipped her toes into another reality entirely.

Her heart races again, and she reaches for his hand, bringing it back to her face. His heavy presence was a balm on her weary heart. He smiles slightly at her, humming under his breath as he scoots a little closer to her. Whispering between them as he fades back into a dream, hoping his company brings her enough peace to let her rest for a little while longer until the sun rises.

“Goodnight hun.” Grumbling in his deep voice, she hums against his hand, burrowing deeper into his palm against her cheek. Her eyes can’t help but drift to corners in her room, again subconsciously looking for scared children in crowds of bodies.

She turns from the darkness in her room, triangles of shadows creeping in from the dark doorway into the hallway. She looks back to him, slumbering next to her now. His head dug deep into her pillow, his breaths shallow and his brow unfurred.

The dream. In the dream, were they her’s? She can’t remember, looking at him now, it’s like it’s fading into the background. The vivid dream seeping from her mind.

“Were they ours?” She whispers between them. Asking it out loud, just so she could remember that one part of the nightmare. The one part that made her ache, and wish for something far off that she’d never really had. Were the children ours?

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls imagine #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines

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rninies · 8 months ago

Text

✮ silly love

౨ৎ scaramouche x reader. fluff, gn!reader, scara's a tease here lol, modern!au — wc: 647

notes. scara fic for my bday :3

“so, what's going on between you and scaramouche recently? you guys seem to have gotten close all of a sudden.” one of your friends suddenly asks and you choked on the french fry you were eating, quickly drinking some water.

“what?”

“you heard me.” your friend gives you a knowing smile. “what’s going on between you and scaramouche? last i heard, he hates talking with people and now he’s all sweet and cute with you.”

your face turns red. “i-i don’t know what you’re talking about. besides, he’s opening up to more people! it’s not just me he’s talking with.”

your friend hums. “mm, then why is he walking this way with a scowl on his face?”

“what-?” you turned your head and they were right. scaramouche is indeed walking here with a scowl on his face. “scara? what’s wrong-”

“i thought you promised we were going to eat lunch together.” scaramouche cuts you off swiftly, sitting down next to you and placing his tray on the table. your friends could only watch in amusement as you tried to find an excuse to calm scaramouche down.

“w-well, i couldn’t find you when class ended! i didn’t want to sit alone like a loser waiting for you to come.” you said with a nervous laugh at the end. “besides, aren’t you bored eating with me every single day?”

“who said i would get bored of you?” scaramouche replies, grabbing a french fry and eats it. he looks at you with a confused look on his face. “why would i get bored of you?”

“you’re saying that as if you have a crush on me.” you let out a laugh, doubling over, smacking your hand on the table as if you said the funniest thing in the world. when you don’t hear a snarky remark from scaramouche, you stop laughing. your friends whispered to each other and quietly left the table, leaving you and scaramouche alone. “you-”

“i’m going to need you to stop for one second because i just find it so incredibly rude that you think i’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass.” scaramouche glares at you, obviously upset. “are you a brick? because you’re dense as fuck.”

your mouth hangs open, still clearly shocked from the sudden confession. “you- what?! when did you start having a crush on me?”

“do i have to explain in detail why i’m in love with you?” he asks, pushing his tray forward. he places his elbow on the table, his hand supporting his head. “well? are you just going to continue to gape at me or are you going to say anything else?” you instantly snap back into reality, clearing your throat.

“ahem,” you fiddled with your thumbs, nervous. “i thought you were the type to not fall in love with anyone.” you avoided eye contact, looking at everything except scaramouche.

scaramouche raises his eyebrows, obviously amused by your nervousness. “what, am i not allowed to have feelings? am i just a puppet to you?”

“okay who said-” you lift your head only to bump your nose against scaramouche’s. you stopped what you were saying, eyes meeting his. scaramouche’s lips slowly turns into a smile and he eventually lets out a laugh, quickly snapping you back to reality. “stop distracting me!”

“what do you mean?” scaramouche asks in a teasing tone. “i have no idea what you’re talking about. me? distracting you? doesn't sound like me at all!”

“haha fuck you.” you glared at scaramouche, picking up your tray, preparing to leave. “i’m leaving. have fun eating alone.”

“wha-” scaramouche quickly gets up, following you. “hey you haven’t replied whether you like me back or not!”

you turned back, giving him a cheeky smile. “you think?” you winked and turned your back to him, not giving scaramouche a chance to reply.

he scoffs. “this brat.”

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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 8 months ago

Text

Baby number two’s gender reveal (Baby Daddy Au: Husband Miguel sequels)

Baby daddy Masterlist

Little fyi, this is a time jump till after they got back together. Also it’s implied that reader is of Latino origin but it doesn’t outright say it so take that as you will. I’m being VERY self-indulgent with this one lol.

Not proofread.

Word count: 700

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

—

“Wow, Gabriel really went all out…” You mumbled to your husband as you finally found your way back to him after greeting some more family from your side, your hand subconsciously going to rest on the now noticeable baby bump that was sticking out from your dress.

Almost all of both yours and Miguel’s family crammed into his younger brother’s backyard. Children running around, tios drinking, tias gossiping, banda playing while your mother helped Conchata serve the food, and both your siblings running around trying to keep everything running. (Uncles, aunts)

“You know how my brother is. He’s just excited to have another nephew or niece running around when he visits.” Miguel joked, handing you a cup of agua Fresca, pineapple to be more specifical, his arm going around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Have you seen Gabriella?” You asked as you waved over to your sister, watching as she and her brother in law went up to the banda they hired for the party.

“She’s with Peter and Mj, she wanted to play with Mayday.” He replied, to which you only let out a hum and a nod, feeling your nerves start to bubble as you saw Gabriel motion to your sister, who had a white bag in her hand. Miguel must have noticed the way you tensed up a bit, because he turned you to face him instead. “What do you think it to be, amor?” (Love)

“I’m okay with whatever. You?” You raise a brow up to your husband, bring your cup up to finish your drink before pressing your lips together in a thin line in a half-ass attempt to fix your lipgloss.

“Same here, although I wouldn’t be upset to see another little girl as beautiful as her mother.” Voice dropping as his tone shifts to a bit of a mix with a tease and a flirt, making your cheeks flesh as you lightly hit his chest.

“Stop it, we’re in front of family.” You faux annoyance and he pulled you closer, knowing you were enjoying the teasing as much as he was. He knew too, by the way your hands went to hug his waist. The way his lips came up in a smirk before he placed gentle kisses on your cheek made your heart flutter.

“Con permiso, con permiso.” The air that was once filled with music was now taken over with Gabriel’s voice as he held one of the microphones in his hands. Everyone’s chattering quickly died down as they turned towards the younger O’Hara brother, excitement oozing from all the guests as he cleared his throat before continuing. “It's almost the time we’re all here for, my dear brother and sister-in-law, finally welcoming a new O’Hara in the world after twelve long years.” Some laughs and some whistles blew out as Gabriel motioned for you both and your daughter to go join him up in front next to the band. Your cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. (Excuse me everyone/attention please)

“Are you excited to find out what your little sibling is gonna be?” Gabriel asked his niece as he put the microphone back on its stand, trying to help distract the buzzing preteen as she tried to peek around her uncle to see if she could get a peak under the drummer cymbal’s to see if she could see the color of the powder underneath it.

“Mhm! I can’t wait!”

It’s as if with perfect timing to her words, the Banda starts to play. Your hand grips Miguel’s tightly in anticipation, he gives you a reassuring squeeze of the hand and a quick forehand kiss before pulling Gabriella closer to him. The three of you silently wait for the cymbals to raise and crash together.

After a few more seconds, you finally see the drummer's arm raise up, and with a dramatic crash, pink dust begins to fill the air. Yells of excitement over took the music as the band kept playing, Miguel taking you and Gabriella in his arms as you felt tears begin to form.

“I’m gonna have a baby sister!”

“It’s a girl! Mig, It’s a girl!”

“Thank you so much baby, I’m gonna have another angel thanks to you.”

—

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry @scaleniusrm @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @lauraolar14 @aaaaslaaaan @kenz-ee @esmedelacroix @whattheshock @syler-griffin @comeonatmebruh @xwonderlandresidentx @m4dyy @the-pan-liquid @lilbrababe99 @jxstanemo @badbitchhour @freehentai @sillysillygoofygoose @nj452896 @jadeloverxd @faretheeoscar @ce3stvu @scorpihoooe @blossomofbismuths @nxxav3rs3 @ilovespiderverseeee @ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade @rinnako @reirain @nommingonfood

#miguel o hara fanfic #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 x reader #astv spiderman 2099 #astv miguel #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 fanfic #bd!miguel #baby daddy!miguel #husband Miguel sequels #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara fanfic #miguel ohara drabble

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circeyoru · 9 months ago

Note

Hello you beautiful and amazeing writer!! I'm here to make a request that is more on the funny side (btw, I love ur stories. Unwanted soul being one of my favorites, lol)

That cursed cat Alastor is EVERYWERE!! And u know what? I give in... Could you write something funny where yan!Alastor is jelous of the cat? Like, he would be like:

"Me or the cat!?" And reader, with no hesetation, "The cat *takes cursed cat Alastor and leaves*". Then someome comes in "Damm, they didn't even think about it" (please tell me someome gets the reference😭)

That cat can have my fricking soul, I love it so much and it makes me laugh so bad udgdihdudhe. ANYWAYS!! Hope u have a good day/night!!! Heudhsudhjdgdhs

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Hi hi! Thanks for your love!! I agree that cursed cat Alastor is everywhere. More request and ask on him in my inbox!!

Okay, here is short part on Cursed Cat Alastor VS Yandere!Alastor. For easy distinction, I'm calling the cat Bambi.

Alastor's eyes twitched as he glared at the lookalike in your arms; that was his place when he came to you after working so hard for the little interest project you sent him to. The creature, Bambi as you named it, narrowed its eyes as it felt Alastor's death glare towards it, its smile widened as it felt the jealous aura radiating off of the demon.

"Darling, can't we have a meal without that inferno creature in your arms?" Alastor tried to ignore the thing and his ever-growing jealousy. Meal time was a time when you weren't absorbed into your artistic worlds, now your attention was on that damn cat! That looked like him! Smiles and all!

"Then where do I put it?" You continued to eat, ignoring how Bambi clawed some of the smaller pieces of meat to eat from your plate.

"Out the window." Alastor passed more meat onto your plate when he saw Bambi taking yours and you didn't react to it. "And on the streets of Hell where it belongs."

You chuckled, eating up the slice that Alastor passed to you first, "That's too mean, Alastor. I won't have the heart to do it because it looks and acts so much like you!"

Alastor's radio glitched and scratched, his eye twitching, "Me or the cat!?"

"The cat." You spoke and picked it up, ignoring Alastor's shock look and left the dining room.

Vaggie shifted to the side, as did Charlie, to let you passby. They looked over to Alastor, who was still sitting there, shocked and frozen. Angel poked his head in, taunting, "Woah, harsh. Your 'darling' didn't even hesitate."

Angel was immediately thrown somewhere by Alastor's tendril, making Vaggie rush to check up on him. Charlie came over and comforted him, "You know, we're having a fun movie night later, maybe you can—"

"Ha ha ha! Never will I watch those noise picture box!" Alastor declined quickly slapping off the hand she was going to put on his shoulder. "If you'll excuse me."

"Where you going?" You questioned as you re-entered the dining room.

Alastor double-checked to see if he was mistaken. His lips moved before his mind fully processed it, "Where's the cat?"

You took your plate and utensils, then went over to Alastor's side, nudging him to sit back down with your elbow before placing it down next to his. He pulled out the chair and pushed it in while you sat, then he too sat down. His eyes staring at the empty spot that would always have that creature and his ears listening to your honey words. "I left Bambi with Husk to take care while we have our meal. What? Now you want Bambi back?"

Alastor's mood brightened, "Of course not, My Love!" He took your hand and kissed it, "Let me cherish you without any distractions."

You giggled, using your free hand to pick up a piece of meat and feed it to Alastor, who ate it happily. "Right..."

"Oh, now it's even more delicious!" Alastor's eyes drooped as he smiled at you, "You should do this more often, Love."

BONUS:

Husk stares at the cat on his bar table; it growled at him with its fur all bristled like a porcupine. Husk inched away slowly to create distance from the creature that you gave him to take care in your absence. Angel came in, laughing out, "Oh! So you were the one! Ha! AHHHHH!!!!!"

Bambi pounced at Angel, biting at him with every opportunity given. Husk yelped and immediately came to help, "Uh, good cursed kitten?"

Angel screamed, "GET THIS THING OFF ME!"

Back in the dining room, you hummed as you cut another piece of meat and feed it to Alastor. He grinned darkly at the screams he heard, "My Dear, you're quite cruel."

You smirked back, "Well, Angel was being a loudmouth."

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul #cursed cat alastor

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shockercoco · 11 months ago

Text

There We Go

Farleigh Start x reader

Warnings - 18+, fingering, overstimulation, drinking, farleigh being dominant when we all know he's not

Word count - 2366

a/n - this is my first time writing smut I wanted to give it a try, and it was hard for me idk how y'all do this lol. enjoy :)

Last night, you had your hands in between your legs scrolling through videos trying to find the perfect one, while Farleigh was outside smoking with Felix. You and Farleigh have never had intimacy problems, it’s just you having a hard time asking for or initiating the intimacy – even Farleigh has told you several times before that he’s always willing. You hadn’t gotten too far in your journey when you started hearing those familiar footsteps outside the bedroom door getting closer. You hurriedly took your hand out of your pajama shorts, switched apps, and readjusted yourself like you had been lying like that the whole time. Farleigh opens and closes the bedroom door, kicks off his slippers, and crawls under the covers next to you.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks as he lays his head on your stomach and you just hum in response.

So now here you were sitting in a pool chair underneath the hot Summer sun watching Farleigh, Venetia, and Felix messing around in the pool, and you can’t seem to control your thoughts – mainly because you never got to finish last night. You throw your sunglasses on and try to distract yourself with the book in your hands and hope you weren’t making yourself obvious to him, even though you could care less what Jane Austen has to say at the moment. You take a peak over the edge of your book and notice Venetia is talking to Felix, Felix is leaning against the edge of the pool with his head towards the sky not seeming to be really listening, and Farleigh is now swimming towards you.

You cross your ankles as if he could sense or see the arousal growing between your legs while he pulls himself out of the pool leaving the bottom of his legs to dangle in the water. Water drips off of him onto the concrete surrounding the pool and also forms into droplets on his chest and arms. Your sunglasses are pretty dark so you’re pretty sure he can’t see you checking him out.

“Are you okay over here?” Farleigh finally looks at you with his own sunglasses covering his eyes, and places a hand on your ankle. He always randomly does this, but at the moment you’re not a fan. You clear your throat before answering.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you ask looking up from your book as if you had been reading it the whole time.

“Just asking since you normally start complaining about it being too hot if you’re outside too long,” he jokes with a shrug of his shoulders. “As if we’re not all hot.” He now starts caressing your ankle, which any other time you would love it, but now all you want to do is push his hand off.

“Excuse you, you complain more than me. Plus it’s not too bad right now, as long as we get to go inside soon,” you say, looking back down at your book and start pretending you're reading again. You hear him let out a laugh.

“We’re going out into town for drinks later, do you want to come?”

“You guys are driving all the way out there just to drink?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s what they suggested,” he tells you, referring to the two siblings still floating in the pool. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

“That’s the book I told you about, how is it?” he asks, still rubbing your ankle.

“It’s pretty good,” you answer not knowing what else to say and wishing the conversation would just be over.

“Where are you at in it?”

Oh my god.

You skim through a paragraph on the page and quickly paraphrase it for him. He gives you a look with a smirk on his lips, but with his eyes also covered in dark tint you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Or maybe he’s not thinking anything and you’re just overthinking. Once he eventually leaves you alone and goes back to swimming with Felix and Venetia, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Later that night when you all are at the pub, including Oliver who decided to come at the last minute, you’re no longer feeling like your head is going to explode. Well, you do, but that’s just because of how packed it is inside the pub. Everyone in the bar has to raise their voice to communicate with one another, but no one seems to care. The group is several drinks in and are talking about the most pointless things, especially Venetia who is asking Oliver what color she should dye her already fried hair next, but you’re still enjoying yourself. Not Felix though, since he declared himself the designated driver because he doesn’t trust anyone else driving his truck. You’ve only had a couple drinks since you were never a huge fan of drinking to the point of getting drunk.

Farleigh, on the other hand, is on his way there along with the rest of them, and is constant with his nagging towards Oliver. You nudge him every now and then as a warning and he gives you an innocent look every time. Thankfully Oliver doesn’t seem to mind – or doesn’t make it obvious – that he cares about what Farleigh has to say.

When everyone has decided they’ve had enough, you guys make the drive back and blast music loud enough to sober up an alcoholic. Felix, Farleigh, and Oliver don’t seem to have any problem screaming their lungs out to it. Venetia complains about the music being too loud, probably because the music is ruining her buzz, and you just shake your head in amusement.

Once you guys arrive back at the estate, and do a terrible job sneaking into the house, everyone goes their separate ways. Felix helps Venetia to her room, Oliver stumbles to his, and you and Farleigh make your way to your shared bedroom. You tell Farleigh you’re going to take a bath to which he asks to join, and you decline. He whines in response and plops down on the bed as you head into the bathroom with a laugh to start running the bath water.

After undressing and climbing into the tub, you lean back and close your eyes until you hear familiar footsteps enter the bathroom. You open your eyes and turn your head to see Farleigh starting to undress himself. Someone’s obviously sobering up.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you sit up, obviously knowing the answer.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he responds.

“I thought I told you no,” you tell him as he gets down to his underwear and shimmies them off.

“Yeah, but this way we’re saving water,” he smiles like it’s the best idea he’s ever had, even though he uses this trick every time, and for some reason you fall for it everytime. Plus it’s obvious the Cattons would never worry about something like water.

Farleigh makes his way over to the tub, all the while you’re trying to avoid eye contact with his slightly hard length causing him to smirk. You roll your eyes at him as you make room for him, and he climbs in behind you making the water level slightly rise. Once he’s comfortable, you lean your back against his chest, and he loosely wraps his hands around your waist.

His fingertips tickle your lower stomach, reawakening that familiar ache you had earlier at the pool and last night that you didn’t finish satisfying. You hope he doesn’t notice your breath catching in your throat. Feeling him against your back doesn’t help much either.

“See, this isn’t so bad,” you hear him say in that playful tone of his. You elbow him in his stomach, and you hear him let out a small grunt. “Hey, did you notice Venetia flirting with Oliver the whole time tonight?”

“It was kind of hard not too, I feel like she gets hornier when she’s drunk,” you say as you start to gently move one of your feet around in the water.

“Well, duh, doesn’t everyone? I’m just surprised she did that in front of Felix,” he laughs and starts to lightly rub your lower stomach..

“Speaking of Oliver, wh-,” you start, but Farleigh cuts you off.

“We’re not.”

“Speaking of Oliver,” you try again, “why do you give him such a hard time?”

“Because he’s weird.”

“You’re weird, Farleigh,” you angle your body and turn your head back to look up at him. He gives your side a little pinch making you jump and let out a giggle.

“You know what I mean. Don’t tell me you’re growing a soft spot for him just because of those big blue eyes,” Farleigh lets out a scoff.

“No, I’m just saying to ease up on him a bit. You can be a little mean sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t trust him,” he shrugs.

“Farleigh-.”

“Can we talk about something else,” he cuts you off once again letting out a dramatic groan and throwing his head back.

“Of course. When we’re done with this conversation though,” you give him a forced smile. He looks down at you and gives you a little glare. “Just say you’ll be nicer, and we’ll be done.”

All of a sudden you feel the hand that was grazing your lower stomach dip lower, and you feel a finger start to lightly rub up and down your slit causing you to tense. You widen your eyes once you realize what he’s doing, your jaw falling slightly open.

“Are you trying to shut me up?” you furrow your eyebrows at him, and he gives you a smirk. “The audacity.”

“Whatever helps.”

“Farleigh, I’m serio-,” you try to get out, but he starts to rub circles into clit. You hold back a moan that threatens to spill out from the sudden touch, refusing to let him win, even if this is how you wanted your night to end in the long run.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Farleigh-,” you try again, but this time he dips a finger in you causing you to let out a gasp at the intrusion, your eyes closing on instinct.

“Hmm?”

You reach a hand down to wrap around his wrist as he curls his finger and starts to slowly pump in and out, but he uses his other hand to take it away and hold it. He adds another finger, still going the same deliberate pace along your walls on purpose to tease you. You bite your lip enjoying the stretch that his fingers bring, but still wanting to hold the noises in your throat back. Farleigh notices this and pushes his long fingers deeper into you, and then uses the hand holding yours to wrap around your waist holding you close to him.

“If you want me to go faster, all you have to do is let some of those little noises come out for me,” he leans down and whispers into your ear. You love it when he does that, and he knows that, but you still didn’t want to break. “You know I saw you staring me down at the pool earlier.”

You knew it.

You feel his breath on your neck before he starts his trail of kisses making you clench your teeth. You make the mistake of looking down at his hand between your legs right as he finds his favorite spot on your neck, forcing a moan to accidentally slip out. You feel a smile form on his lips while they still attack your neck, and at the moment there’s a part of you that wants to strangle him, but you just give in to him.

“There we go,” he murmurs, and you finally feel his fingers speed up inside of you, causing your face to contort and lean your head back against his chest. He lets go of your waist using that hand to start rubbing your clit again, but this time rougher. This causes you to arch your back into him. If your body wasn’t submerged underwater, you guarantee you both would be able to hear your wetness with every movement.

Eventually, you feel your pleasure come to a powerful end, and Farleigh helps you ride it out as long as possible. You roll your hips into his hand until you’ve had enough, and just when you're about to motion for him to stop, Farleigh picks up a rapid pace forcing the water to start sloshing around. Your eyes widen and you let out a small squeal as you reach both of your hands for his wrist.

“Let go,” he says strongly.

“Farleigh,” you whimper, and it’s all you’re able to get out.

“Let go,” he says again, and this time you do. Instead you put one hand on his thigh and the other on the edge of the tub.

He continues his vigorous torture inside your cunt with you squirming and litterally gasping for air until you can both feel yourself gushing. But, of course he doesn’t stop there, not letting a beat pass. You bring your legs up to your chest with his hand still between, and he pushes them both back down. You let out a cry as he puts his legs over yours pinning your body to the bottom of the tub. It doesn’t take long for your third orgasm to come with a wail, and this time Farleigh stops.

Your heavy panting bounces off the bathroom walls as you finally have a chance to collect yourself, and Farleigh just chuckles from behind you. He slowly slides his fingers out and out of the water, but not before giving your clit a light tap, making you practically jump out of your skin.

“How are you doing down there?” he asks, as he wraps his arms around your waist. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine with your eyes closed, but at the moment you don’t care.

“Honestly, Farleigh, just stop talking,” you tell him, and he lets out a loud laugh that makes your body move against his chest.

#farleigh start x reader #farleigh x reader #farleigh start #farleigh smut #farleigh catton #saltburn #saltburn imagine

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hgfictionwriter · 7 months ago

Text

Gravity - Part Two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie learns you're engaged. The lies you've been living implode on you both. It's now or never.

Warning: Smut. Dry humping Simulated intercourse, eventual intercourse, possessive sex, cheating, language.

A/N: Angst with a happy ending. Final part of the series. Part One is here. Jessie and Reader's behaviour in this is not healthy lol but I love the drama haha.

Jessie stared at the screen in her hands and felt numb. She couldn't feel her body and her mind was vacant as she sat there motionless. Her eyes remained fixated on the shine from the newly placed ring on your finger.

Someone else's ring. Not hers.

Jessie had no sense of time, unaware of how long she stared until she managed to click on the comments.

Congratulations!!

So excited for you two!

About time!

Can't wait for my invite!

She swallowed and tried valiantly to ignore the stinging sensation that was building behind her eyes. Her grip on her phone tightened. She didn't notice her knuckles growing white.

This couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. You wouldn't get engaged. Not to someone who wasn't her.

Her breathing began to grow shallow and quick and she ground her teeth together hard. She tore her eyes away from her phone and stared hard at the wall as a cacophony of thoughts and feelings began to churn.

How could you? Was she crazy? All these years, these secret rendezvouses, passion-filled sex with proclamations of love every time. She would've swore you were making love - reconnecting and cherishing each other, small moments of reprieve as you held each other between the droughts of separation. She would've gone to her grave believing that your eyes were filled with love for her.

Maybe she'd been lying to herself this whole time.

Maybe she was just a fool.

A wave of anger and devastation went through her and her shoulders shook as she choked back a sob. She sniffled, making the mistake of letting her gaze fall back down to her phone and the image of you and your girlfriend - wrong - fiancée. Another strangled cry formed in her throat before she angrily forced it down.

She really thought you'd wait for her. At least some deep-seated part of her did; that you were just killing time with these girls. A distraction while she was away. That's all her girls ever were. They were never meant to replace you; simply pass the time and give some semblance of normalcy every so often.

Anytime anyone got too close, she'd use her career and her schedule as an excuse to not go deeper. In her mind, she really saw herself coming home to you at the end of it all.

Tears fell onto her screen, distorting the image of you. She screwed her eyes shut.

She didn't understand. If you didn't feel the same way, then why did you come back to her every time she was in town? Why would you jeopardize your relationship? It didn't make sense.

Maybe it really was just fucking. At least for you.

She sniffled, again clenching her jaw as she tried to keep the full weight of her emotions at bay. She exhaled shakily as she started a comment on her phone.

Congratulations

No. She could hear the bitterness.

Congrats

No. Even worse.

Eventually, she settled for a heart emoji. She hoped you knew it should've been the opposite.

And, maybe she was a sucker for punishment.

Jessie clicked off her phone. Full sobs finally wracked her body as she tried to process. Maybe even grieve.

--------

The months passed and the news of your engagement was still a dull ache in the depths of Jessie's chest.

You'd texted her along the way and she left you on read. Something she'd never done. Jessie felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment and dejection at how much effort it took to do it. It should be easy to cut you off completely.

You'd texted again a week later to ask how she was. Jessie chose to lean into the anger she felt and ignored you once more.

You followed up again.

Please don't do this.

Jessie felt an insidious sense of vindication at how you chased her. As superficially fulfilling as it was, she didn't like this side of herself.

One night Jessie was at home relaxing after a hard day of training. She should be sleeping, but truth be told, she hadn't really slept well in months.

She didn't like lying awake in bed, so she'd gotten up and was instead immersed in her book on the couch. She was about to flip the page when her phone began to ring. She frowned and glanced over at it.

She froze momentarily when she saw your name on the screen. She subconsciously reached out, her hand hovering over the phone before she managed to pull back. She huffed in irritation before resettling herself on the couch and determinedly returned to her book until the buzzing of her phone stopped.

A mixture of relief and loss went through her when silence filled the room once more. She clenched her jaw as she tried to center herself.

You never called. And especially not at this hour. Her latent anger was briefly replaced by worry. Were you okay?

Before she could spiral too much her phone lit up again with your name.

Jessie studied the device wordlessly as your name was displayed insistently. She swallowed and her hand shot out sharply to pick up the phone. She was going to regret this.

"What."

"Jessie." If you were bothered by her antagonistic greeting, you didn't show it. Her name came through with a blend of relief and emotion.

"What." Jessie's response was harsher this time.

"You haven't talked to me." Your voice was small and Jessie frowned. It wasn't like you. Yet, she let out an abrasive scoff.

"Yeah? So what."

"I can't stand it," you said, a waver in your voice.

Her features screwed up in anger and she shut her book with a slam, abruptly pulling herself up to sit on the edge of the couch cushion. She shouldn't engage, but all of the pent up feelings she'd worked tirelessly to dampen came boiling up.

"Well maybe you should've thought of that before," she said venomously. You didn't reply right away and Jessie swore she heard you sniffle. It put a chink in her resolve. A deep frown lingered on her face, but her posture softened just so. "Why are you calling."

"I need to see you," you said, finding your voice again.

Jessie shook her head in confusion. "What the heck are you talking about."

"Can we talk? Can I come up?" You pleaded. Again, Jessie's face screwed up in confusion.

Jessie clicked her tongue in irritation. “Even if I was willing - how would you propose that, hm?”

"You didn't hear?" You asked. "I'm in town."

Jessie was beyond baffled now. You answered her question before she could ask.

"I planned for my bachelorette to be here," you went on quietly. Emotions flared up inside of Jessie again.

"Well that's a fucking coincidence," she said snarkily.

"It's not." You undermined her sarcasm without hesitation. She swallowed again and closed her eyes.

"So. Wait. Where are you?"

"Outside your apartment," you said quietly again. A beat passed. "I got your address from Teagan."

Jessie didn't know what to feel. She was outraged, but it was dampened by something else. She was so overwhelmed right now she couldn't discern how to react.

She raked her fingers over her face tiredly. “Your fucking bachelorette,” she muttered in a mixture of bitterness and disbelief. She took a sharp breath and continued.

"And where are you friends? They just let you leave your own bachelorette?" She questioned curtly.

"[Y/best friend] knows where I am." You replied. Jessie knew her - she’d been your best friend for years, meaning Jess had been friends with her at some point, too. "She's covering for me."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jessie said as she let herself fall back against the couch and held a hand wearily to her face once more. This was insane.

"Jessie. Please let me in."

A whining grumble emerged from Jessie's throat and she inadvertently dug her fingers into her face before growling and standing up like a shot off the couch.

"Fuck," breathed harshly. "Jesus. Fine. I'll buzz you in."

A short while later, Jessie paced the entrance of her apartment back and forth as she waited for you to come up. She cursed herself and cursed you, but she also couldn't ignore the way her heart raced and something akin to anticipation filled her.

Her eyes flit to the door as a light knock came through. She stood motionless for several seconds before she cleared her throat and walked over. She took a deep breath before placing her hand on the door knob and turning it.

She clenched her jaw unknowingly as her eyes fell upon you standing before her. You were in a dress and your hair and makeup was done up, but it still didn't hide the subtle bags under your eyes. Seems like you hadn’t been sleeping well either.

You held Jessie's gaze wordlessly, silently seeking her permission to come inside.

She eventually cleared her throat once more and stepped aside to make way for you. You flinched slightly as Jessie shut the door behind you harder than necessary. When you turned back to face her, she was standing there arms crossed and feet planted, a stern look on her face.

"Well. You're here. What do you want." Her voice was anything but inviting and a far cry from the tone you were so accustomed to with her.

“I needed to see you,” you repeated. Jessie narrowed her eyes.

“Why?” She exhaled, her voice growing cold. “We have nothing to do with one another anymore.”

Your gaze dropped immediately and Jessie saw your jaw tighten. You eventually met her piercing gaze once more.

“I-I don’t think I can stand that. I thought I could. But…I can’t.”

Jessie tossed her hands up in frustration. She was normally pretty composed during confrontations off the pitch, but you had her feeling out of control.

“What do you want me to say to that?" She laughed incredulously. "That we can keep fucking a few times a year, texting in between and everything can stay the same?” She paused briefly, fighting off a sudden pricking sensation behind her eyes. She took a breath. “Now that I know how you actually feel, there’s no way.”

“No, Jess-” You took a step forward, causing her to take a quick step back. You stilled. “Jess. I know how it seems. I never lied to you. I just…,” you trailed off.

“Just what?” Jessie cut in acidicly after you took too long to find your words. “And you did fucking lie. Because if you love someone you don’t go off and marry someone else.”

You gave her a hard look and spoke evenly.

“Honestly? I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jessie seethed.

“What exactly did you expect?” So far Jessie had been the only indignant one, but her accusation sparked a fire in you. “You’re off playing all over the world and I get your scraps whenever you happen to be around. You fuck me and then off you go again until the next time you hit me up.”

Your declaration silenced Jessie momentarily. She hadn't necessarily viewed things like that. And she certainly didn't think that was your perspective.

“I told you I love you.” Jessie’s voice strained as she took a step toward you. You remained rooted to your spot. “I tell you every time. I tell you I won’t play forever.”

You let your hands fall away from you listlessly. “And what was I to do with that?” You asked, your voice tense. You saw the expression on Jessie’s face and you clarified. “That you won’t play forever. That’s no guarantee of anything. Loving someone doesn't equal building a life with them.”

Jessie ran both hands through her hair, digging her fingers into her scalp painfully as she did so. She inhaled a shaky breath and did her best to speak calmly.

“I told you I love you. What do you think that means? You think I say that to anyone else?” Her defense brought up the reality of your situation and her anger returned. “No. That’s what you do. But not me.”

The hurt she felt began to boil over and she lashed out further.

“You were almost always seeing someone else. And I wasn’t going to ask you to wait until I was done. I’m not that selfish.” She paused, swallowing the emotions as best she could. “I thought.” She had to stop, dropping her gaze briefly as she reset. “I tried my best to not let it get to me, you seeing other girls - and I know I saw other people too - but I thought when everything was said and done…,” she trailed off as a lump formed in her throat. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Jessie turned on her heel and walked over to the couch and sat down heavily. She leaned back and crossed one arm over her chest and brought the other up as she mindlessly chewed at the skin of her thumb.

You didn’t move right away, contemplating what to do next. You watched Jessie who determinedly stared at the wall; you decided to step tentatively into the room. Jessie’s eyes flicked over to you momentarily before pointedly returning to the wall.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted this,” you asked as you gestured between you and her. You suddenly felt worn out and weary. “Us.”

Jessie’s eyes snapped towards you and her tone was sharp. “I wouldn't ask you to put your life on hold. And you chose not to come with me to London. Why would I ask you to wait?”

“But you wanted me to.”

Jessie sat up, her lips drawn tight in frustration. “Well you clearly didn’t want the same,” she said with a meaningful glance to the ring on your hand. She sat back heavily once more. “So I’m glad I never asked.”

“Jessie. I came here tonight because I do want you,” you countered, your voice taut. “The closer I get to the wedding…,” you trailed off, your gaze falling to your feet as you swallowed the discomfort you felt. You felt Jessie’s eyes on you. You blinked back the start of tears and forced yourself to look at her. “The closer I get,” you started anew, voice stronger this time, “the more I realize I’m making a mistake.”

Jessie held your gaze, her jaw set. She eventually exhaled and looked away.

"You're drunk," Jessie said, her voice low.

"Hardly," you said. “My feelings for you are present all the time. The more I drink, the harder they are to hide. That’s all."

Jessie bristled and shot you a look before saying dryly. "Lucky me." She frowned, frustration anew. "And lucky for your fiancée. What a fucking joke." You heard the break in her voice. She turned her head away from you.

You sniffled, subconsciously picking at the fabric of your dress as you watched her. It broke your heart to see how you’d turned this kind, sweet woman into a shell of herself, now protecting what was left with acidic remarks and seething anger.

“I came here because I needed to know if you felt the same. Really felt the same.”

This time, when Jessie’s head snapped back towards you, her eyes were brimming with tears.

“I begged you to come with me to London. I’ve barely dated anyone, but those I did never stood a chance. I was always too preoccupied. And I don’t just mean soccer.” She blinked back her tears and ground her teeth. “I’ve always loved you. I still do. Whether you’d come with me to London or we did long distance or whatever - I felt like no matter what, you’d be my wife one day.”

Finally, a couple of tears started to fall and when Jessie spoke her voice trembled. “And it’s fucking devastating waking up every day knowing you’re going to marry someone else.”

You crossed the room to her on instinct alone and she stood as you approached. You stopped shortly in front of her and you held each other’s gaze wordlessly. Her shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths as she tried to not fall apart.

“I still believe I shouldn’t have come with you to London.” Your gaze was unwavering and you saw how the set of her jaw tensed further at your proclamation. “But I think we should’ve tried. It wouldn’t have been easy to be apart, but it would’ve been better than pretending that we didn’t need each other.”

Now tears began to form behind your eyes. When you spoke your voice was thick with emotion.

“I missed you so much. All the time. I felt numb without you. But I really couldn’t believe you’d ever truly come back for me. How could you? After all you’ve achieved and the amazing journeys you’ve been on, why would you choose me in the end?” You let out a shuddering breath. “At some point I think I felt like I needed to move on - as best I could anyway. Stop waiting around for someone who was never coming home.”

Jessie’s lip trembled as she held your gaze. “I would always choose you. You should know that.”

“But I didn’t,” you returned, your voice tight. “I’m sorry.”

You brought your hand up and gently cupped her cheek. She winced initially, her features screwing up in emotion before she subtly leaned into your touch.

“Truth is. I’m lost without you, Jessie.”

When her eyes opened, they were glistening with tears and she looked so sad.

“I’m sorry it’s ever felt like I was using you or I didn’t care.” Her voice was taut and she frowned as she worked to hold back her emotions. “Because, truth is, even after all these years, being with you feels like home.”

Hearing her words sent a wave of emotions through you and you closed your eyes and leaned forward to kiss her. She passively accepted your kiss.

You pulled back momentarily to look at her. Her eyes fluttered open to meet yours. They were truly the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. You leaned in and kissed her once more. This time she returned it.

Your kiss deepened over several moments before you broke away long enough to gently push her down onto the couch. She looked up at you, not breaking eye contact as you hiked up your dress enough to straddle her lap. She swallowed but her hands came up to rest on your hips over the fabric. You leaned down and captured her lips in another kiss.

You subtly began rocking your hips against her and her fingers dug into you. She kissed you a while longer before pulling back.

“You’re engaged.”

You brought your hands up to clasp behind her neck, your thumbs rubbing up and down the taut muscles there.

“I know.” Your eyes remained locked on each other. “It should be to you.”

Her mouth fell open subtly and her breathing deepened. Her gaze was fixed on you.

“I know.” Her tone was almost stern before softening. “It could be.”

You leaned in and kissed her hard. She met you, returning the kiss greedily. She gripped your hips and began helping you rock against her before she stopped abruptly, moving her hands down your dress to rest on your legs.

“You’re still engaged,” she repeated. “It’s different than before. We shouldn’t…”

Despite her words, her fingers were kneading into the muscles of your legs and she still kissed you eagerly. Morally - yes, you should stop. But, as always, this was Jess.

You placed your hands on her shoulders and shifted yourself so you were straddling a single leg of hers. You moved a bit further down her leg and rolled your hips against her, your core rubbing against her muscular leg. Even though you still had your panties on, the friction sent irresistible waves through your body and left you wanting more.

Jessie could easily feel your heat through the thin fabric of her pants and it sent goosebumps all over her. She dug her fingers into your legs through your dress.

“Y/N…” Your name came out both pleading and as a warning. She tried to ignore how she instinctively flexed her leg against you. Your grip tightened on her and soon you were whispering in her ear.

“Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself while I think of you?” Your hot breath in her ear sent shivers down her spine.

“How many times you’ve made me cum without ever actually touching me?”

A small groan worked its way up Jessie’s throat and she flexed her leg again, you ground down against it immediately. You kissed Jessie hungrily and she returned it eagerly. She could feel your arousal starting to seep through the fabric that separated you.

She was trying so hard to be good, but you grinding against her and breathing in her ear was making it nearly impossible.

Jessie let out a shaky breath and despite her intentions her hands began to work their way under your dress. She stopped herself by your knees, digging her fingers into your skin there.

“I don’t want to just make you cum,” she told you between heated kisses. “I want more.” Jessie dug her nails in. “It kills me to think I’ve just been a fuck to you.” She hissed as you dragged your nails down the back of her neck.

“You’ve never been just a fuck. Ever.” You told her resolutely as you continued to grind against her leg. You could feel how your underwear was nearly soaked through already. “You’re so much more to me. You’re everything. I’m in love with you, Jess. That never changed.”

Jessie’s head fell back against the couch and she lifted her knee to give you more friction. She watched your eyes shut as you rode her leg.

“But I’m not the one who falls asleep next to you,” she challenged you. You locked eyes with her again.

“You could be.”

Jessie let her hands roam further up your legs until her thumbs rest in the crook between your thighs and hips.

“I hate that she gets you every night.” Jessie leaned up and kissed your neck. She smiled to herself as you moaned and began running your fingers through her hair. “That she gets to make love to you.”

“I think of you when she’s on top of me,” you said as your fingers continued to roam through Jessie’s hair. She flexed her leg and pushed up towards you, her hands now pulling you down onto her as well. Another moan fell from your lips.

“It’s always your name on the tip of my tongue,” you continued.

Jessie’s breathing grew heavy and a few subtle grunts escaped her as you brought yourself closer and closer to your climax. The fabric of her pants was wet with your arousal now and it was driving her crazy.

Jessie and you were in a rhythm and you pulled back to see each other. She stared into your eyes, your gazes unyielding, and it wasn’t long before you tensed up on top of her. Your panties were soaked completely through and you dug your fingers into her crown as you came.

You fell against Jessie as your orgasm faded and she absently massaged your thighs. She kissed your neck chastely and urged you to pull back to look at her. When you did, her expression was set.

“We’re not friends,” Jessie told you resolutely. “We never will be. I can’t look at you and pretend I’m not in love with you.” You nodded and kissed her tenderly.

“I know. It’s the same for me. I’ve been in love with you since I was 19, Jess.”

While Jessie’s expression was stoic a moment ago, now her lower lip trembled and her eyes glistened.

“You can’t marry her.”

You sat back momentarily and took in this woman before you.

“I won’t.” You promised her.

Jessie’s fingers dug into you once more and her jaw clenched.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” You told her with confidence.

She brought one hand out from under your dress and grasped your left hand. Her fingers gripped your engagement ring, giving it a solid tug and removing it. She didn’t break eye contact with you as she placed it in your palm.

“It should be my ring on your finger.”

A rush of emotion went through you at her declaration. You took the ring and set it aside before kissing her.

“So put a ring on my finger.”

Suddenly, everything Jessie had been holding back tonight came bursting forward. She gripped you tightly and carried you to the bedroom, quickly doing away with your dress and your ruined underwear. She kissed you possessively as she wasted no further time and ran two firm fingers through your folds.

“You’re mine from now on,” Jessie told you unequivocally. “I’m sick of sharing you.”

You moaned in her ear before adding, “Same applies to you. No more fucking other girls.”

She smirked and began circling your clit. “They never compared anyway. And why would I want anyone else if I can come home to you.”

“Remember that,” you panted, “when you’re halfway around the world and surrounded by beautiful women.”

“You’re the only one I want,” she said with no hesitation.

“Jessie,” you pleaded as you tugged at her shirt. “I want your skin on mine.”

She smirked into the kiss. “Take it off me, then.”

You reached down and pulled the shirt up her back and over her head. She sat up, straddling your leg and inadvertently showing off her incredible physique as she tossed the shirt to the floor. You tugged at the waistband of her pants and she continued to give you a charming smirk as she rose off the bed briefly to remove them.

She climbed back on top of you and ran her hands along your chest and down your stomach with a low growl rumbling in her chest.

“No more sneaking around,” she proclaimed as her eyes met yours. “I want people to know about us.”

You were dripping wet already, but the intensity of her words and the way she looked at you made your core pulse.

She leaned down and ran a thumb along your jaw, her lips hovering just above yours.

“We’ve wasted enough time. I don’t want to waste anymore.”

“Me neither,” you agreed as you cupped her face.

“Starting now,” Jessie asserted as she shifted so she was between your legs, which you readily spread for her. Her hands ran along your legs, wrapping them around her waist as she ran her fingers through your slick folds once more, lubing up her fingers with your wetness before sinking inside of you. “Fuck,” Jessie hissed as you clamped down around her fingers. “You feel so amazing each and every time.”

A wanton moan left your lips. Your fingers dug into her shoulders as you tossed your head back as you felt her digits fill and stretch you.

“God, Jessie, you always make me feel so good,” you said, feeling short of breath already. You felt her body jostle against you as she let out a smug snicker.

“I haven’t even gotten started,” she said as she withdrew her fingers slowly before plunging them back inside to her knuckles. She pulled your earlobe between her teeth and flicked it with her tongue.

“You’re always so good,” you told her as you arched into her. You chuckled. “It’s embarrassing how easily you get me off.”

“Mmm, let’s not call it easy, baby. I very much made a point of ensuring you’d remember me and how I made you feel regardless of who you were going back to.” Her breath was hot in your ear and she traced her tongue along the shell of your ear.

“Then you were very successful,” you told her, your words truncated by subtle moans as she pumped in and out of you, her body rocking above you as she did. “There were too many times I almost said your name.”

A low growl formed in Jessie’s throat again and she quickened her thrusts. “I wish you would’ve.” Despite herself, Jessie’s hand made its way up to your throat and it rest there at the base, her fingers ever so slightly wrapping around you. “I want to be the only one you cum for.”

You ran your fingers through her hair and nodded. “You will be - I promise.” You moaned loudly as Jessie’s fingers curled inside of you and stroked your g-spot repeatedly.

“Now.” Jessie commanded. “Starting now. I’m the only one who fucks you, has sex with you, makes love to you. You aren’t sleeping with her again. Or anyone else.”

You nodded mindlessly as your moans continued to fill the room alongside the sounds of her strong thrusts in and out of you.

“Say it,” she demanded. “You’re mine now. Your body, your heart, your everything - belongs to me now.”

“Oh fuck,” you said in a low moan as you writhed beneath her. “Yes, Jessie. I promise - I’m yours completely.” Jessie groaned and her strokes grew harder.

“I’ll buy a place for the two of us. And I’ll come home to you as often as I possibly can. And I promise I will make every minute away worth your while.”

You clawed at her back and she continued to chant declarations in your ear. The bed creaked with each thrust as she pushed you deeper into the mattress.

“I’ll give you so many orgasms you’ll need a break from me. And I will love you so thoroughly and deeply you’ll never feel alone no matter how far away I am. I promise.” Her voice softened.

“Jesus Christ, Jess. I’m so close.”

Jessie lifted her head and kissed you deeply.

“Marry me. Please. It doesn’t have to be soon - but please, let it be me.”

You kissed her hard, pulling her even closer towards you. “Yes. Oh my god, yes, Jessie.”

Jessie didn’t break your kiss as she continued to pump into you desperately. You both groaned deep in your throats and soon your climax took you.

You continued to moan into each other’s mouths as she rocked into you, your arousal dripping down her palm and onto the sheets. When your body grew limp, she exhaled heavily and let her weight rest upon you as you both worked to catch your breath.

She was absently stroking your hair with her free hand when you came around. You slowly blinked, your vision coming back into focus.

“Did you just ask me to marry you?” You asked.

Jessie hummed and lifted herself up enough to look down at you. “I did. And you said “yes” - but if-”

“No, no. I’m not changing my mind. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t imagine it,” you told her lightly. She chuckled softly and kissed your cheek.

“I mean, we need to have some deeper, bigger conversations about how all of this will work, but my feelings stay the same,” she told you. You nodded in return.

“I know. It’s going to be very complicated and messy for a while. Are you up for that?” You asked and she stared at you steadfast.

“I’ll endure anything if it means I get to be with you at the end of the day.” You smiled at her, but her eyes began to shimmer with tears once more. “Please don’t change your mind in the morning. It would devastate me.”

“Jessie.” You kissed her reassuringly. “You’re the one I’ve wanted all along. I’m not changing my mind.” It was your turn to frown. “If you’re uncertain at all - you have to say it now. I cried every day when you went to London. I can’t do that again.” You took a breath and held her gaze. “I can’t have my heart broken a second time.”

“You won’t go through that again,” Jessie promised. “No more heartbreak. I swear.”

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #jflem #woso #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #smut fic #angst with a happy ending

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umbrella-show · 1 month ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/umbrella-show/766905601979727872/httpswwwtumblrcomumbrella-show76562826466233?source=share

Ooooooooh I love it! Great now i wanna send this in as a genuine request of your requests are open...y/n can be timid or not depending on what you wanna do but still want twist where y/n was only crowned ruler so there is an excuse for y/n to stay in the castle and be cared for/watched over by all the cookies...like to expand and explain more...cookies claimed y/n is their ruler when in reality, the cookies are the ones making up laws/creating rules, doing all the stuff rulers do and y/n's job is just to sit there with their little crown, that the cookies made sure was very comfy for y/n, and accept affection and attention from the cookies lmao!

(Also now I can't help but imagine in a funny scenario like this...to give an example of what I had in mind lol...

Some bad guy cookie...maybe DE or shadow milk...will call em bad cookie as place holder:

Bad cookie: MWAHAHAHAHA!

*all the cookies panic!*

Gingerbrave: OH NO! IT'S (insert name!)

Bad cookie: IM HERE TO TAKE OVER THE KINGDOM-

*cookies still panic...some readying to fight and others running for their lives and others just having zero clue what to do!*

Bad cookie: -AND TAKE Y/N FOR MYSELF!

*Suddenly, all the cookies froze...and slowly turn to the bad cookie, all going dead quiet. The kingdom became so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.*

Bad cookie: what the-?

*suddenly, all the cookies whip out various weapons...either their signature weapons or torches and pitchforks.*

Gingerbrave: you messed up the moment y/n's name left your mouth....CHARGE!

*all the cookies of the kingdom absolutely SWARM the bad cookie.*

Bad cookie, not expecting all the cookies to share a braincell: SON OF A- OH DEAR WITCHES! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

*Bad cookie screams in terror as they are now in the middle of a giant horde of angry cookies.*

Meanwhile...

Y/n: *was gaming...suddenly heard a little noise.* what was that?

Strawberry, who was sent to y/n earlier to distract them from the chaos outside: that was probably just the wind...say, how about we do this level next?)

And late reply is ok! I know life gets busy sometimes lol!

Kay i love this idea it made me laugh a little-

Have a short fic!

As you placed down another card on the table from your deck, you couldn't help but wonder. Is this all a ruler does? All the stories you’ve read about kings and queens usually had them attend to important affairs or run their kingdom. After becoming a ruler yourself, you found out that there wasn’t much you needed to do in the first place. All you really did was sit there and look pretty. Your friends, the Ancient cookies, who ruled their own kingdom, did more than you. They were more involved with actually running their kingdom. And you did practically nothing.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Pure Vanilla cookie said it was your turn again. Looking up at him, you saw him smiling at you with his deck of cards in his hands. He had an excellent poker face when it came to these sorts of games, you had learned. He always kept a gentle smile no matter what. You didn’t know whether it was an intimidation tactic or because he genuinely enjoyed playing these types of games.

You placed a card from your deck down on the table and took a few seconds to glance out of the window right in front of both you and Pure Vanilla cookie. It was a beautiful day. The vibrant blue sky, clear of any clouds, caused the sunlight to shine onto you and Pure Vanilla cookies from the window. You could hear birds chirping and leaves gently rustling from the light breeze.

As Pure Vanilla cookie had just placed down his card a sound made you perk up. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder as the source seemed to come closer to where you were. It almost sounded like..screaming? You looked out the window, searching for the noise. You were worried and confused. Was everything okay? Did something happen? Were people in danger? It wasn’t long until you saw what was happening.

Licorice cookie, with Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute close behind, were all screaming and running from something. They just ran by, screaming their lungs out. A horde of cookies followed, yelling and brandishing their weapons. As they chased, you noticed and recognized them as almost all of the cookies in your kingdom, with Gingerbrave and his friends leading the charge. Heck, even some of the children such as Pancake and Cherry cookie were trailing along in the very back, but were determined to catch up.

As the horde passed, you could only sit in a state of shock with Pure Vanilla cookie, looking out the window with raised eyebrows while you attempted to process what you had just seen.

“Oh my. Seems as if that cookie caused quite the stir.”

Pure Vanilla said after a few seconds of stunned silence from the sight both he and you had just witnessed. However, his voice was as soft and tranquil as it always was.

“Well, Gingerbrave and the rest seem to have the situation under control.”

Pure Vanilla cookie then placed down a new card on the table, smiling at you with closed eyes as if nothing happened.

“Why don’t we continue from where we left off.”

BONUS

Licorice cookie scowled, muttering complaints as he brushed the leaves off of his robes. Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute followed him, looking shaken up from their previous experience. Licorice cookie and his companions had narrowly escaped the insane cookies' anger. They had ran into the nearby forest on the outskirts of the kingdom, losing the horde in the trees. Now, they all trudged, defeated and shaken, back to the castle. Dark Enchantress cookie won’t be pleased, and Licorice was sure Pomegranate cookie would rub his loss in his face once he got back. The thought made him grip his bone scythe tighter in anger.

He may have failed to indoctrinate you into the Cookies of Darkness this time, but he promised he would get to you before Pomegranate cookie.

#umbrella asks #crk #self aware crk #crk baker au #yandere crk #cookie run kingdom #yandere cookie run kingdom x reader #yandere cookie run kingdom #cookie run #cookie run kingdom x reader

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vaguesxrrow · 8 months ago

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can u plsss write one about charles with an american reader? like the inspo is the olivia rodrigo song so american lol. like maybe him making fun of her accent and her doing the and back and like the differences between the two cultures?

ACTUALLY INSANEEE bc right before seeing this i was singing that song in my head (i dont listen to olivia but i probably should tbh). alsoo i wasn't sure if you wanted a fic or hcs, so i kind of made a 2 in 1. hope you dont mind! xx

a/n: im not american nor british and ive never been to the usa or the uk... so excuse any inaccuracies pleaseee

tags: g!n reader, american!reader, alive!reader

you shivered and exhaled sharply, your breath misting out in front of you. the moment you stepped outside, you knew you should have piled on more layers, but edwin had been eager in whisking everyone out the door to carry out an investigation for your current case.

you burrowed closer to charles. obviously, he couldn't provide any real body heat, but being near him was a boost in morale to keep going despite the temperature.

"alright?" he asked, putting an arm across your shoulders.

"i should've put on more layers," you grumbled.

charles laughed as he kissed the top of your head. "you can have my jacket."

shaking your head, you declined. "it's fine, it's not that cold. and besides, i wouldn't want to strip you of your british glory and your british coat."

charles snorted. "so it's my british glory, now? who was the one making fun of my accent literally just yesterday?"

"litch-rally," you parroted, grinning. "why is it that all your t's turn into ch's?"

"hey, you're one to talk - what is it you were ordering at the restaurant yesterday? a glass of wa-der, was it?"

"bite me, charles."

he raised his jacket up and engulfed you with it in a bear hug. you shrieked with laughter and wriggled in his hold, but didn't protest when he demanded you hold your arms out so he could put the jacket on you.

"what are you, a soccer player? i thought i was your [boy/girlfriend/partner], not your competition," you teased.

"soccer?" he mocked, outraged. "soccer? it's football, mate."

"mate?" you scoffed incredulously, although you were smiling. "way to friendzone me after months of dating."

"oh, come on, you know you could never get rid of me." charles pulled you in again, this time by your hand. "and for the record, you look cute wearing my clothes."

a few beats of silence, in which you two looked at each other with similar expressions of fondness and exasperation.

"yeah, okay, now get away from me, you victorian fossil." you shoved him playfully, and sprinted away to catch up with the other three. niko waved you over, giggling at charles, who was jogging to keep up.

"victorian fossil? i grew up in the 80s!" he exclaimed. "you know this!"

⌦ ---

- you do know very well that charles grew up in the 80s - you frequently ask him what it was like back then, because naturally, you'd take an interest in your boyfriend's life

- however, charles loves how you're genuinely interested, and get how watching times change can feel a bit lonely for him sometimes

- you're a great listener when it comes to this (which you think you should be greatly accredited for; charles' good looks can be very distracting at times)

- imagine: you and charles in your room as he looks around, inspecting the decor you have on display as he rambles about life in the 80s

- he tells you about a huge movie premiere he went to:

- charles: "get this, right - a ridiculously long line outside the movie theatre. the weather is absolutely miserable, and so are the people. no one's talking at all. i think everyone was just hungry - i saw this lady have tea delivered.

- you: 'i keep forgetting you have stuff like tea times. and did everyone really have the patience to wait for that long, in silence?'

- charles, with a fake american accent: yeah, dude. in silence.

- you throw a pillow at him.

- you also like telling hilariously bad jokes relating to his accent

- you: psst. charles.

- he turns towards you, already expecting another jab at his british-ness

- you: what day do british people eat the most?

- charles, in a deadpan: what day.

- you: chewsday, innit-

- he yells 'NOPE' and walks through the wall, leaving you to wheeze-laugh on your own

#charles rowland x reader #charles rowland x you #charles rowland/you #charles rowland/reader #charles rowland #dead boy detectives headcanons #dead boy detectives x reader #dead boy detectives fic #dbd #dead boy detectives

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sleepyparalysisdmon · 1 month ago

Text

Ready to Love

The three times that Chan uses bad pickup lines on you, and the one time it finally works.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption. Bad pickup lines lol

This is part of the Three Times series. This one is inspired by this reaction.

One

Some would say you’re a bit of a wallflower. You like to stay out of the chaos, like to keep to yourself a little bit more than most. Your friends, like Wonwoo, tell you all the time that that’s not a flaw, but it certainly feels like it is at parties like this when you both blend in and stick out like a sore thumb simultaneously. You’ve tagged along with Wonwoo but have faded into the wallpaper for most of the night. The drinks are bad in a way that the more you have the better they taste. And a refill is where you’re headed to right now to get through the rest of the night.

You’re pouring some more mystery punch in your cup when Lee Chan approaches you, smiling. You give him a polite smile back because you’ve met him a handful of times at things like this. “Hey Y/N,” he’s grinning wildly. “You can get off the dating apps, because I’m here now!”

You blink once, twice, and spill a little punch on your hand. “I’m… not on any dating apps.”

“Oh, good!” He says, overjoyed.

“Oh… okay, then. Will you excuse me?” You squirm away from the counter and beeline for Wonwoo, who raises an eyebrow at your speedy return to hide behind him.

“Are you good?”

“Lee Chan… hit on me?” You pose it as a question because it sounds crazy.

Wonwoo looks entertained. "Did he now? Then why are you hiding behind me?”

“What else am I supposed to do?” You ask blankly.

Wonwoo sighs, tossing an arm around you. “Dare I say that you’re more awkward than me. That’s quite a feat.”

Two

Wonwoo and Mingyu are hosting a game night at their place. You aren’t competitive and have no bad feelings about being the first out the game. It gives you an excuse to raid the dessert that was brought in. You’re sneaking a fork into the slice of cake as Chan sneaks up to you. “Hey, Y/N!” Chan says cheerfully. You jump, gripping the fork like a weapon, huffing up at him.

“Hi, Chan,” you mumble.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, you’re a 9, and I’m the 1 you need.” He’s got that stupid grin on his face again, and you blink at him some more, just like last time. Then you're just confused.

“Chan, at no point as anyone ever said you’re a one.”

His grin somehow gets wider. “Oh? What would I be then?”

You stammer with no answer rattling around in your head. There’s a large crash from the other room and game pieces are scattered across the floor from Seungkwan swiping everything off the table in a fit of rage. “New game!” Jeonghan cries. “Y/N, Chan, are you in?”

You scramble back to the table and are so relieved that you’re sitting nowhere near Chan and can hide your red face behind Wonwoo’s shoulder. Wonwoo pats your shoulder, saying ‘there, there’, though you know he’s not sympathetic at all based on how entertained he looks.

Three

You’re attending one of their concerts. Wonwoo regularly gets you tickets when you’re free and often invites you to hang out with them backstage before and after the show. Security at this venue already knows you well, so they send on you on back to the green room when the show is over.

Chan is standing out in the hallway when you approach. He looks up and smiles at you, waving. “Hey, Y/N.”

You brace yourself, because you can never predict what’s going to come out of his mouth lately. Still, you smile a little and say, “Great show, as usual.”

“Eh, I was a little distracted. I saw that you were in the crowd tonight.”

You give him a wide look. “Oh, why? I’m at a lot of shows.”

“I know,” Chan snorts. “You spend so much time in my mind that I should charge you rent.” He’s reduced you to furious blinking yet again.

“I’m… sorry? I’m too broke for that.”

Chan belts out a laugh. “I said I should charge you, not that I would. Ready to go in?”

You blankly nod, following him into the green room.

Four

It’s another party tonight and you are not really feeling it. You’re sitting out back by the pool to escape the crush inside. “Aren’t you cold?” Chan joins you, sitting by the pool.

“No. What are you doing out here?” You ask, voice a little chilly. Besides the crowd, seeing him talk to another woman inside with his wide grin makes you sad in a way that you can’t explain. You can imagine the horrible pickup lines he might be giving them and whatever you thought might be just for you seems to not be. You have no right to feel upset about it so you’ve retreated to the backyard.

Chan shrugs. “You weren’t inside.”

“You have plenty of company inside. It’s okay, you can go back in. I might just head home.”

He’s smiling at you still, but looks confused. “Are you ready for another one?” You give him a blank look. “If I were a cat, I’d spend all of my nine lives on you.”

It’s just as ridiculous as any of the others he’s given you over the last few weeks, but there’s something sweet about this one that makes you burst out laughing. “Where do you get these?” You ask, wiping your eyes.

“Google,” he says simply, wide smile on his face. It makes you giggle again.

“And you decided to try them on me? What, am I a tough nut to crack or something? If it works for me it will work on anyone?” You don’t mean it negatively, in fact you’re seeing a lot of humor in it now that you’re past some of the confusion. But his smile drops, looking confused again.

“Oh no. I save them all for you. I have many more to try if you want to hear them.”

Your confusion is back. “What’s the end goal here?”

“To get you to like me, maybe go out with me.” You’ve always admired his confidence, especially right now when he says something like that so boldly, without an ounce of nervousness.

“How many more do you have?” You ask eventually, lips quirking up in the corners.

He’s laughing somewhat maniacally, pulling his phone out of his pocket. “How long do you have?”

“As long as you can keep them coming.”

You two are some of the last people to leave the party and you wake up to a pickup line in your unread text messages the next day. And the next. And the next…

#seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #dino #dino x reader #lee chan #lee chan x reader #chan x reader

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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Hey love! How are you? I hope everything is well. Could I request a fluffy fic where the reader is sick and the marauders dote all over her? I have been sick the past couple of days with high fever and I am in desperate need to be taken care of lol. It doesnt matter if it is a poly!marauders or one of the boys. You can choose whichever you are in the mood for. Thanks in advance <3

Hi sweetheart, I'm good, thanks! I'm sorry to hear you're unwell :( Soooooo relatable, basically all I do when I'm sick is fantasize about someone taking care of me. I've been dying to write a roomate!James fic so I took this in that direction, hope that's okay. Thank you for requesting and I hope you feel better soon lovely!

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James listens as the door to your room opens and closes again, his unease mounting.

You’re typically quiet, but lately you’ve been quieter than usual. Normally, James can count on at least seeing you in passing, or hearing your comings and goings signaled by the ridiculously harsh creaking of the front door. You sometimes play soft music while you cook, or have a friend over to chat in your room, or listen to a podcast while you get ready in the morning.

For the last few days, there’s been none of that. If it weren’t for the occasional sound of your bedroom door and your key still on its hook in the entryway, James might think you’d moved out.

He’s been walking past your door more often today, curious and a bit concerned at what’s keeping you confined in there. Though he knows he should be more ashamed of his eavesdropping, who else is responsible for making sure you’re okay if not your roommate? Anyway, if one day he finds you dead in your bedroom, “I was trying to mind my own business” isn’t going to make a very good excuse.

When he goes by on his fourth unnecessary trip to the kitchen that afternoon, James is stopped by the startling noise of rapid-fire sneezes from behind your closed door. He’s knocking before he can second-guess himself. “Hey, you alright in there?”

There’s a great snuffling sound, and then, “Yeah, thanks,” your voice muffled.

James hesitates. He’s not sure what your definition of “alright” might be, but he doesn’t feel right going about his day when you’ve locked yourself away and are acting so strange. “Can I come in?”

“No.”

Well, that’s about as much confirmation that you’re not alright as he needs. “Are you decent?”

“I—yeah, but James—”

He cracks the door, sticking his head in just as you dive beneath the covers of your bed. The floor is covered in tissues and wrappers of some sort, dirty dishes stacked on your desk. The room actually smells like sickness, likely a result of your being in here without opening a door or window for days.

“James, please go.” Your voice is muffled by the covers, but now James can hear how congested it sounds. “I don’t want to get you sick.”

“We’re roommates, love,” he says, taking a few tentative steps toward you. “Whatever you have, I’m gonna get it eventually.”

You sneeze, your form tensing under the covers. “Not if I stay in here and you stay out there,” you insist nasally.

James crouches by your bed, careful to avoid the tissues and what he now sees are cough drop wrappers. He tugs at your sheets until you release them, pulling them down to reveal your very flushed, very displeased face. James can’t help it; his eyebrows come together and his bottom lip juts out in pity, and your glare intensifies.

Of course, it’s hard to appear very intimidating when your nose is twitching as you fight off another sneeze. After a moment you give in, pressing a tissue under your nose as your shoulders hitch. James winces in sympathy.

“How long have you been like this?” he asks, taking advantage of your distraction to touch the back of his hand to your forehead. He’s not surprised to find it warm, but the intensity of the heat that meets his hand has him inhaling sharply. He presses his palm to your cheek to be sure, but it’s the same. “Merlin, you’re burning up.”

“S’not that bad,” you say, though your next sniffle undermines the claim.

James brushes a sweaty strand of hair from your forehead, worrying his lip. “Seems pretty bad, love. I think we ought to get you to a doctor. You shouldn’t be this warm.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s finished speaking. “James, no. I want to stay here, at home.” You pull your blankets closer about your shoulders protectively. “I don’t want to sit in some freezing waiting room for hours just so they can tell me I have a cold.”

James looks at you for a moment. Your clammy forehead, your poor pinkened nose. A tiny shiver takes you, making you burrow under the blankets until just your pleading eyes are peeking out at him, and that’s what softens him to your cause. “Alright,” he sighs, “but then you need to let me take care of you.”

“But—”

“I don’t care about getting sick,” he cuts you off, leveling you with his sternest look. It’s not very well-practiced, but it does the trick, and you settle down. “You let me help, or I’ll take you to someone who will.”

You look resentful at being given an ultimatum, but nod.

“Great.” James grins, his usual affability returned. “Now when was the last time you ate?”

From that moment on, you’re on strict bed rest. James cancels his plans with Remus and Sirius for that night, both of them sending wishes that you start to feel better soon, and a call to his mum grants him access to her recipe for “get well soup.” You don’t have an appetite, but James coaxes you into eating a few spoonfuls, and the warm sensation in your throat proves too soothing to let a silly thing like appetite prevent you from finishing the bowl. James cleans your room as you eat, ignoring your protests and embarrassed groaning as he puts your tissues and wrappers into a bin, placing it beside your bed for easier access when you need it. Then, he gives you a steaming bowl of water, making you sit with a towel over your head in your own personal sauna. You complain about feeling disgusting as your sinuses empty themselves out, but admit to breathing a bit easier once it’s done. Soon you’re feeling well enough to sit up, propping yourself up on a few pillows with a full stomach and slightly clearer nasal passages while James takes your temperature with the thermometer he’d run to get from the corner store.

“Can’t believe we didn’t have one of these,” he mutters as he holds it in your ear. “One of us was bound to get ill eventually, it’s a miracle it’s taken this long.” You hum, your eyes trained on the inside of James’ forearm. It hasn’t escaped his notice that you’ve been looking at him more today than you ever have before; he supposes he owes that to the glaze of fever he can still detect in your eyes. James would never embarrass you by mentioning it, but the warmth of your gaze is nice, and he’s glad you’re not sharp enough at the moment to notice he’s as flushed as you. The thermometer beeps, and he pulls away, the tension in his brow relaxing a bit as he reads the number. “Well, it’s not nothing, but it seems lower than earlier.” He feels at your forehead again, nodding to himself. “Yeah, definitely lower.” James leaves his hand on your face a tenth of a second too long, and your eyes raise to his.

“That’s good,” you say, giving him a small smile. He returns it heartily. “I feel better, thanks.”

“Yeah?” he asks, his smile falling away when you give a small sneeze and then wince. “You sure, love? Is your head still hurting you?”

“It’s not as bad,” you sniffle, grabbing a tissue to wipe your nose. “I really think all this is helping, James, thank you. Sorry you have to be around me when I’m so gross.”

“You’re not gross, you’re lovely,” he says dismissively, moving the box of tissues closer to you when you reach for it again. “You’re incapable of being anything but lovely.”

You actually snort, the sound loud and wet. “Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“I do say,” James insists. “And I’m the only one here not delirious with fever, so I think that makes mine the final opinion.”

Your cheeks get impossibly pinker, almost matching the hue of your nose, but your smile rivals James’ own. “Well, anyway, thanks for taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

James doesn’t bother to pretend he’s feeling for a fever this time, placing a hand on your cheek and rubbing at the skin under your eye affectionately. He thinks his heart actually turns to mush when you lean into the touch. “No thanks necessary, sweetheart. Happy to do it any time.”

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mingi-s-dimples · 5 months ago

Text

You took san home...

pairing: sub until he's not!san x bratty sub!f reader rating: 18+ (MDNI - literal filth)

genre: smut, idol au, established relationship

summary: You ask your boyfriend, San, to keep the blindfold he used to himself after the performance... only to surprise him later.

WC: 2.8k

warnings: idol au, sub until he's not!san (he lets reader top over him for a min), dacryphilia (kinda?), blow job, hand job, oral (m receiving & implied f), choking (both on cock & by hand), pet names (love, babe, baby, Sannie, sweetie) dry humping (edging through clothes), light bondage & sense deprivation (tying wrists f & blindfold m), a lil bit of a size kink ig?, making out (a bit), multiple rounds, multiple orgasms (m&f) & a ruined orgasm (m), overstim, creampies, use of toys (a vibrator), deepthroating, teasing, orgasm control (from where ruined orgasm cause my y/ n was feeling bratty lol I went overboard), fluff (a crumb), aftercare (a crumb-i promise he's a good guy he just wants to go for another round), unprotected (booo, use protection ir| !), completely consensual!, it's straight up filth with a crumb of romance that's all you need to know (filthy love), completely unedited, might edit it later (I'm sure I forgot to mention sth)

Author's note: I love how I wrote this actually! English is not my native language, please excuse any grammatical errors ! It's the first time I've ever written smut (but I love reading it). The story is unedited, I will post it like this for now. Might do a part 2 with y/n getting eaten out, what do y'all think 👹

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction & does not represent in any way the reality of the member.

You should've seen it coming, as soon as you found out they're going on a new tour. How all of his fans would scream for him, how the cameras follow him all around the venue. Even though you were his girlfriend, you still felt a little jealous of all the atinys that got to see him like that, performing with all his power and passion. When you first found out that one of your favourite songs - and performances - take me home, was on their setlist, even though you were aware of the fact that the song had pretty much...sad lyrics, the performance was insane. He barely let you attend the concert, thinking he was going to get distracted. But you begged and begged and told him you'd be a good girl, so he let you. But, before you left to the venue by yourself to blend in, you had a talk with your boyfriend.

"Babe, can I ask you for a favor? I promise it's nothing too big." you stopped San right as he was leaving to the venue, looking at him with puppy eyes.

"Of course, darling, what is it?" he said, looking softly in your eyes.

"You see, I want you to keep the white silky blindfold...to yourself...when you finish the concert. Could you do that for me, please?"

"Hm...what do you want to do with it, babe? Should I be curious?" San said caressing your cheek.

"No, no, not yet ! I promise you'll enjoy it, don't you trust me?"

"Okay babe, I'll take it with me. See you at our hotel after the concert? I'll wait for you there after you enjoy your time as....a simple fan, in the crowd" he whispered, sending soft shivers down your spine.

You blew a kiss to him and, as soon as he left for the venue, a lot earlier than the concert, you went to your room to prepare yourself for the performance.

"Hmm, this will do" you said while looking in the mirror placed right in front of your bed. A nice, tight silk dress, flowing beautifully down your curves. It was a pretty short one, too, but you knew how jealous San would get over it...and also how much he liked it. Only thinking about this turned you on a bit, knowing how good he'll fuck you dumb tonight, after your little game. You knew he would let you dom over him for your own sake...and when you were done with it... he'd destroy you.

_________________________________________

"Yo, guys, the concert was fucking incredible! Y'all were so good!" you addressed the praise to the other members, after you sneaked in the back.

"Thank you, y/n, the atmosphere was really nice! All our fans were so excited to see us!" said Hongjoong, smiling softly, approaching you slowly to give you a warm hug.

"Where is San, though? I haven't seen him anywhere." you asked, confused.

"Ah, he already left, he's on his way to the hotel. Didn't y'all need to meet or something? He was pretty secretive about it." said Wooyoung, looking you up and down, to find the meaning behind your outfit. "Heh, you dressed like this just for him, hm? I bet he doesn't know you're wearing this. I mean, he wouldn't have let you leave like that, in the first place" he said teasingly, with a smirk on his face.

"Please, don't tire him too much....we have some promotions tomorrow.." Wooyoung whispered, making you flinch and curse him out.

"Oh for fucks sake, shut up."

---

"Can anyone give me a ride? It's too late to go alone"

"Yup, see you at the car" said Yeosang, while looking around for his keys.

---

"Y/n, have fun" he said smiling at you, giving you the look.

"Oh cmon, you and Wooyoung...though, thanks for driving me, I owe you one" you said right before shutting the door.

_________________________________________

While you were in the elevator, all of the filthy thoughts started filling your mind. Would San agree to it? Would he actually like it? Or would he punish you...all of these thoughts were going straight to your pussy, as your arousal was pooling in your lace panties.

You knocked on the door. Nothing.

You knocked again, this time hearing your boyfriend murmuring something, and then some steps were coming towards the door.

As he opened the door for you...his jaw dropped. He was scanning you from toe to head...his gaze darkening upon seeing your dress.

"Hi, babe" you said teasingly, looking him in the eyes. Your left hand was resting on his cheek, stroking him slowly. "What do you think..of my dress?"

"Oh babe..I'll show you what I think about it" he said and you didn't even have time to react. He planted a kiss on your lips, aggressively, interlocking his tongue with yours. The only sounds you could hear was the lewd ones you were making. You wanted to much more, so you pushed yourself in his grip. He closed the door behind you and took you to your bed. His hands were tracing you entire body...going from your neck, where he planted soft, sloppy kisses...to your waist, and to your ass. He lifted your short silky dress only to be welcomed by the wet spot between your thighs. You flinched, as he touched you through the fabric. The friction between your panties and his two fingers were driving you insane...you were squirming over his hand, trying to get more. As your arousal started to drip on your thighs, through the thin cloth, San pushed you on the bed, to watch everything.

As he was approaching you fiercely, you stopped him with you leg.

"Nu-uh, babe. I told you I had something prepared for you tonight...after that..you can fuck me how you like" I said, teasingly, pressing my foot on his chest.

"Goddam y/n, making me wait like that? Fine, I'll let you. After all, you got me so fucking turned on, you won't be able to walk tomorrow." he said, searching the white lacey blindfold in his back pocket. Just seeing him like that...made you thirsty for more. You, basically undressed, dripping from your cunt on the sheets. Him? fully dressed, a few of his buttons ripped out. While he handed you the cloth you've been waiting all along, he looked at you a bit confused.

"What are we doing with this babe? It's barely going to tie you up or something..." he said, tracing your wrists.

"Oh babe, only if you'd knew...Please, could you lay on your back? Let me try this once..pretty please?" you said, looking at him with puppy eyes.

As he laid on his back, you told him promptly to keep his hands to himself and, as you tied the blindfold to his eyes, he smiled, not knowing what you were going to do to him.

A moment later, he feels you getting off the bed. He stands up to lean against the headboard, while trying to see what's happening, through the blindfold. He hears you rumbling through your suitcase, and gave you a confused, yet excited look.

"So...babe. I thought about something...how should I say this?" you said, walking towards him. You gave him the item you've been searching for.

"Damn, babe, is this a vibrator? What do you want to use it for?" he said while feeling it in his hands.

"Hm...well, you know how I told you I'd want to fulfill one of my little fantasies...right? Today...I was so excited for the performance where you used your blindfold that I couldn't wait to get back to the hotel...brace yourself, baby." you said softly, while taking the toy from his hands. You then turned it on, on the 2nd slowest speed, and then put it right on your boyfriend's hardening cock, through his jeans. He squirmed at the sensation, letting out a soft moan.

"W-what are y-you doing?" he muffled, trying to get a grip of himself.

"Oh, babe, I'm playing with you now...I can't wait to see your reaction... now." and you turned the speed faster, moving it up and down along the length that was forming an enormous bulge in his pants. His cock, already leaking with pre cum, twitched with every move of yours. Drops of sweat were dripping off his face, his eyebrows frowning every time the vibrator touched his tip through the clothes. He was so out of it, pre cum staining his pants.

"B-babe, I don't think I will last much l-longer" he said through his whimpers.

"Nu-uh, Sannie. You'll have to wait until I let you cum." you said confidently, while turning off the toy. He squirmed in defeat, trying to get some friction within the sheets.

“Oh my, you look so cute like this. All worked up and disappointed of your ruined orgasm. Do you want to cum, babe? Tell me.”

“Yes, love, please, p-please-” he said, breathing heavily. “Please, I’ll be good to you”

“What if….I don’t want you to be good to me after all of this..? Don’t you wann punish your bratty girlfriend? hm?”

“Oh and how much I’d like that….but please…let me cum, I was so fucking close!” he said angrily, squirming under you”

“Okay babe, we’ll see about that”

–

You started to unbutton his jeans, admiring the art you just made. His pants stained with pre cum, his hard angry cock straining painfully against the zipper. You wanted to free him of all of that..but not yet. You only took his pants halfway off, to have a better look at his boxers. Then, you turned on the toy again and put it against his leaking tip through the cloth, receiving a nice shiver from him. It took you only a few moments of edging his tip until he started whimpering again, letting you know that he was close to his high.

“Sannie, cum.” you ordered, as your boyfriend squirmed under the pressure of your hand fondling with the base of his cock, him trembling from the friction. As soon as you pressed his tip again with the highest speed, he let out a loud moan, and, as his cock started twitching, the tip slightly got out of his boxers, strands of translucent, silky white cum covering his abs. Still touching him with the vibrator on the lowest speed, you waited until he finished completely wore off his high and then turned it off. You then climbed on him, just sitting on his abs, the cold feeling of his cum sticking to your thighs forming, yet again, a sloppy pool between your folds.

“So…babe. How was it? I enjoyed the view of you begging me to let you cum” you let out a soft chuckle, as you untied the blindfold.

“Oh, my god. This was fucking incredible, babe. I never felt like this before…I don’t know what to say. I enjoyed it but..love…how much you annoyed me by fucking up with my orgasm. Not nice of you at all, sweetie.” he said, while he manhandled you on your back, so fast that you didn’t even realise. “But now, babe, is my turn. I gotta admit, your game was…incredible, but now you gotta brace yourself.” he said, as he tied your hands to the headboard with his belt.

“W-what when did you get it?” you said horrified at the thought of you being tied up….but it only turned you on more.

“Cmon babe, relax yourself, the night just started. Your punishment is yet to come* he said, with a soft smirk on his face.

Then, he went down right to your dripping cunt, using two fingers to touch the damp cloth. You moaned in pleasure, squirming under the pressure of his fingers, trying to get more friction. He moved your panty to the side, to have a better look. He went right in, curling his two fingers right into your sweet spot. As you felt a tingling sensation in your cunt, you started whimpering for more. He knew what it meant, so he inserted another finger. You let your head drop in pleasure and surprise, at how his fingers filled you so good. Yet, you felt so empty. You wanted his dick inside you, destroying your insides.

“B-babe, p-please. Fuck me.”

“I-i, I need your cock in me”

“Oh babe…how needy are you today, don't you think?” he then approached your cunt with the vibrator you used on him earlier, not thinking much of it until he turned it on. You let out a moan of pleasure, while he was still fingering you. His thumb and toy on your clit, moving it in circles.

You felt how the knot in your belly started getting tighter and tighter, you felt how you were about to cum. But he didn’t let you, yet.

He took his pants off completely and with one hand on your neck choking and muffling your moans, he tapped his again hardened cock on your folds, then went right in. You couldn't make a sound, getting dizzy from being choked by his hand. You could feel his rings imprinting into your flesh. Trying to say something, he released his grip on your neck and went right for your hardened nipple. As he was lazily pounding into you, he admired how your chest rose up with each of his every thrust, slowly getting deeper and faster. When he bottomed down, you both left out a moan at the same time, tears falling down your face. You loved how good your boyfriend was always filling you up, how well he was stretching you out. It always hurt, but you loved pain as it felt like pleasure to you. Then he started rapidly pounding into you, hitting your g-spot, while one of his hands was fondling with your nipple, his other hand pressing circles on your clit.

“S-sannie, I'm c-close” you said, and right after that you got pulled deeper, the friction from your folds to the base of his cock making you throw your head back in pleasure.

As soon as he heard you, he started pumping deeply into you, angrily, and within a few more thrusts, you could feel the knot in your belly unfold, seeing stars as you came down from your high. Your boyfriend, though, had other plans. As soon as you wore off your high, he put you on all fours and took your hair into a slight ponytail, guiding you to his cock.

“Oh babe, how I've been waiting for this. You know, I let you cum, I've been a good boy to you. But I haven't yet…so you gotta help me with that” he said with a smirk on his face, looking into your eyes as he promptly slapped the tip of his hard, big girthy cock on your lips. He then signaled you to open your mouth, to which you obeyed. He put it in slowly, letting you to adjust to his size and then bottomed out.

You could feel how his dick was touching the back of your throat, tears swelling in your eyes. As he wiped the falling tears off your cheek, he let you stay for a second like that until he raised his eyebrows. You knew you needed to start sucking like your life depended on it. And as you started licking his length, pressing your tongue to his tip and also brushing your hand against the base of his cock, you could feel him twitch in your mouth, with every touch of your tongue. The corners of your mouth were definitely stinging a bit, his girthy cock always stretching your everything. He let you do it at first, at your own pace, but he felt it was too slow and not rough enough. So he took your hair into his right hand and started fucking your throat, tears swelling in the corner of your eyes, feeling dizzy from the lack of oxigen. He didn't last long, as after a few more deep thrusts into your throat he came right there, slowing his pace to let you swallow his load. You felt like he came endlessly, your throat and mouth getting filled with his cum.

After he made sure you swallowed everything, he let you fall on your back, him laying right besides you. He gave you soft kisses on your forehead, cheek and then on your collarbone. He then got up to get a towel and get you cleaned up, only for his next words to be…

“Babe, I'm not done yet. Prep yourself for another round. This time, you’re getting eaten out.” he said, smiling at you, knowing by the expression on your face that you couldn't wait any longer.

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #san x reader #san ateez #san x y/n #smut fic #ateez x y/n #choi san

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velvateen · 10 months ago

Note

Hi you, I'm writing to you from Belgium! Thank you so much for your work, omg I love your writing so much!!! (you managed to make me get SICK butterflies in my stomach on your fiction "i am your singer" -smut LMAO-)

I'd like to suggest a story idea for zoro, I dreamt about him yesterday and in my dream he always found an excuse to get into the rooms I was in (very often the bathroom… While I was showering of course…) (example: it's dinner time // we're looking for you everywhere, I wanted to make sure you were okay…) Would you be willing to smut this dream into reality? 💚

(of course, it's a proposal, you're free to choose! Thank you so much for reading! 🥰)

don’t bother knocking - zoro x reader nsfw

hiiiii tysm for the request this is lowkey one of my fav pieces for this blog yet lol. enjoy!!

warnings: oral sex (m receiving), unprotected sex, fem bodied reader, no pronouns used

1.6k words

You ran your hands through your hair, making sure all of the soap had been wrung out. Ears blocked by water, you nearly missed the squeak of the door hinge as it opened. Sticking your head out of the shower, you saw Zoro, leaning against the counter.

“Can I help you?” You drew back into the water.

“No,” he hummed, “Just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready.”

“Alright, yeah, I’ll be out in a minute! Don’t let them all wait up for me, alright?”

He grunted in response, and it took a few more seconds for you to hear the door open and close again.

Weird. Whatever. You stepped out of the shower, spotting wet footprints across the bathmat as you dried yourself off.

Zoro’s been acting this way lately. Always seeming to be where you want to go. Always showing up where you are. You try not to read too much into stuff with Zoro, maybe it’s just his way of trying to be closer friends with you. He’s got so many lofty aspirations that it’s hard for you to justify what your heart wants and what the crew already sees unfolding: Zoro’s got a thing for you. He just doesn’t know how to show it.

You towel off your hair and make your way to the kitchen, where you take your seat next to Zoro. Luffy is lunging for everyone’s plates although they’re all almost done eating, Zoro included. You sigh as you start to eat, relishing in the taste of Sanji’s perfect meal, and you rest your head on your hand as you start to pick at the plate. Distracted by the dinner, you don’t notice how close your arm on the table has gotten to Zoro’s. The heat of the shower is radiating off of your skin and onto his, and the hair on his arms raises. He fights the blush that settles on his ears, making no effort to pull away from your touch.

He stays there long after he’s finished eating.

The knock on your door is most unexpected, at this hour. You get out of your bed, setting down the book you’d been reading, and peek through the sliver of the door. When you see who it is, you open it wider.

“Oh hey, what’s up?” Zoro avoids your gaze a bit. Not completely, just enough to notice. He shrugs.

“Was bored. Mind if I hang out with you?”

You lick your lips. Zoro notices.

“Yeah, come on in, I was just reading,” you back away from the door and fall back into place on your bed. Picking up your book, Zoro sits on the side of your bed.

“What’s this about?” You take the book from him and set it down on your nightstand.

“I don’t really know yet, just started it tonight. But the cover is pretty so that means its gotta be good,” you laugh.

“Pretty sure there’s a phrase advising directly against that way of thinking but whatever,” Zoro mutters. You lean against the headboard as you laugh.

“Right, yeah, ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’, well I happen to find that is the best method to finding anything good.”

“Is that right?” Zoro inches unperceptively closer to you, the arm bracing himself now over your legs.

“Yeah, that’s right.” Zoro licks his lips. You notice.

“What have you been doing hanging out with me so much? What’s the angle?”

“No angle.”

“No angle?”

“Maybe there’s an angle,” he smiles. His eyes dart down to your lips for a fraction of a second, but long enough to ignite a heat that’s started to burn in your stomach. Maybe, you realize, it’s been burning for a while now.

Zoro’s grown closer to you now, something you both realize. But the realization doesn’t make you pull away, not now that he’s got a hand cupping your jaw and tilting your face as if he’s practiced it a thousand times, just for this. Just for you.

You eyes close slowly as you feel the touch of warm, chapped, rough lips ghost your own. It’s as if he’s afraid to push too hard, to break a spell or scare you off, he touches you so dearly. The kiss deepens slightly, but never in a rough way, no, Zoro’s staked so much on this moment to ever make any motion that might scare you off.

You pull away, a giddy laugh making it’s way past your lips. Zoro searches your eyes for any trace of doubt or unrequited emotion, but he doesn’t find it. And he can’t help but catch that infectious laugh, that smile that cracks across your face with such abandon that it takes all of his efforts to not let it consume the entirety of his soul. It does anyway. You lean back up and let Zoro follow you down to where you sat against the headboard, and he moved to straddle you, running a hand through your hair and gently holding by the roots, committing all of these feelings to memory. He’s waited long enough to feel you, and now that he’s got you in his hands, he wants nothing more than to break down every wall you’ve built around yourself, to touch your skin, to sink into you.

He sinks his teeth, experimentally, into you. Not to damage, but to be able to look back tomorrow at breakfast and know that it wasn’t all a dream. Your fingers make his earrings clink as you run a thumb over them, tugging his ear close to your mouth.

“You wanna?” You whisper, the soft smile you’re wearing evident in your cadence.

“If you’ll let me,” he answers, trying not to give himself away. He does anyways. His hands, antsy to roam, have made their way down to your pajama pants and make a move to tug, but you pull away.

“Me first.”

You move to the floor, and Zoro’s hand flies to your nape, not wanting to lose touch with you for a second. His pants have pooled near you on the floor, and with it come his boxers. You lick your lips. And boy, does he notice.

The grip he has on your hair tightens, but is never harsh. Never with you. Even as your lips and tongue start to envelop and swirl around the tip of his dick. Never harsh. Even when his other hand clenches tightly into the mattress. Even as you take him further, noting every vein present and pulsing under your administrations. Even as he fights the urge to tell you every thought he’s ever had about you. Never harsh. Even when his hand leaves your hair to wipe tears brimming at your eyes, he does it with such tenderness that you start to question if the tears are from the gag at all.

Zoro pulls away from you, clearly a motion of great strain, and he pulls you back up to the bed, where you finally kick off those damn pajama pants. Laying down, Zoro’s eyes ask an unspoken affirmation from you, as his fingers hook around the edges of your underwear. You nod, and the haste of which he pulls them down makes you laugh. His lips are back on yours, tasting your laughter, until he pulls away to cup a hand on your cheek, slipping his thumb into your mouth, greeted by an unexpecting hum. He draws it out of your mouth with a pop, and brings it down to your center, dragging it across your folds, holding you open. You take in a sharp inhale as he rubs his thumb across your clit in circular, steady motions. He smiles, watching as you start to clench around nothing, and all for him. His lips are back on your neck, kissing further down until they ghost over your chest, pause, and continue kissing over the cloth of your shirt. Your back arches towards his warm breath, the fire in your stomach reaching a blaze. Your hands are all over his back as he continues to work you open, steadily puting more pressure on your nerves. You groan at the feeling, impatience starting to wear you down.

Zoro hears the quickening of your breath, and decides to sink a finger into you, working it around to get you adjusted. You huff in exasperation as he pulls away, only long enough to get himself settled towards you. His hand is above your head as he angles himself, dragging his dick along your folds. You groan in unison as you feel each other’s warmth, the culmination of all this waiting paying off after all these years. He sinks in, slightly, not so much to satiate you by any means, no, but it’s enough to get you adjusted.

Zoro takes a deep breath, and lets it go as he slides fully, sheathed impossibly tight within you.

You take a deep breath, and you let it go as you’re filled, depths reached.

“Good?”

“Good.”

With your affirmation, he moves, slowly at first, and then picking up the pace. But never harsh, never abrasive.

Not tonight.

There will be other nights, nights with less on the line, where Zoro will allow himself to tear into you, to deny and restrain you, but not tonight.

Tonight, Zoro focuses on loving you, which comes easily, given that it seems as he was born to do just that.

_____

The warmth of the hot water soothes your legs as you bend down to turn the shower off. The cool air of the night hits you as you step out of the shower, not surprised to see Zoro leaning against the counter. He watches as you wrap the towel around yourself.

“Can I help you?” You muse, tucking the towel in and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He smiles at you, resting his hands on your waist.

“Nope,” he presses a kiss onto your lips, “no angle here.”

a/n: hey everypony mwahahaha almost got carried away w this one it’s like one billion words. anyways school is still kicking my ass. sorry responding to this took so long!! hope everyone has a good day and eats good food! okay bye kitties meow

#zoro #zoro smut #one piece #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #one piece modern au #one piece fluff #one piece smut #zoro fanart #op zoro #roanoa zoro #sanji x zoro #roronoa zoro #zoro x luffy #zoro x sanji #pirate hunter zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x y/n #zoro imagine

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