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tinyarsonist · 9 months ago

Text

Volume: Up

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Summary: In which heart throb K-Pop Idol, Bangchan, just shows you how 'Christopher' he can really be.

MDNI 18+ Only

TW: idol!Chan, IdolTrainee!Y/N(fem!), drinking, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), smut in general, dirty talk, swearing, masturbation, dumification, nipple play (fem!), cum on stomach, PleasureDom!Chan, switch!reader (fem!), pull out, cum on stomach, let me know if I missed anything!

Italics are in Korean. Bold is in Spanish. Rest in English.

Volume Series: Part One | Part Two | ?

You were still in awe.

You started your career as an idol fairly late in the game, making you older than most. But, when you entered the world of K-pop, you knew this was what you were meant to do. You were already creating music since you were young, and how hard could it be?

Very.

There were days as a trainee when you felt like giving up. You left your friends and family back home to pursue your dream, and after years, you still felt like you were right back at the same spot you started. Never moving. Stagnant.

That's when you discovered Stray Kids. Watching their debut to where they are now. It motivated you.

Then, one day, your company announces that they want you to lead a team. They presented you with suitable candidates for your girl group, but something in you felt like something wasn't right. "Sorry," you apologize to your board. "But, if I may be so bold as to recruit my own members?"

You wanted a family. Craved friendship beyond just another gig. And, well, let's say it worked out very well for you.

This brings you to the present day--standing in DIV studio, surrounded by its members, to do an interview. Your group was just starting out and already doing well. You've posted a couple of dance practices and some ballad covers you performed as a group, tracking some major views across all social media. DIV wanted to be the first to be a part of the soon-to-be international hype.

"You ready?" Eric smiled at you as the crew set up your microphone. You nodded happily. The rest of your group couldn't make it due to schedule. It felt weird not having the rest of your girls around you, but knew this wasn't an opportunity you just passed up.

Time passes, and so far, the interview is going great. It was amazing being around like-minded people. And, it was also nice being able to curse and not have to worry about your 'imagine' among them. They were free to be who they wanted. They wanted to break the mold; conformity was not in their dictionary. It took a while to let your company agree to the interview in the first place, but this was the direction you wanted to take the group. To be yourself and just produce music.

"Okay, so next up is the heart rate challenge." Eric smiled. You were divided into teams; you and Eric vs. Peniel and BM. The winner would be dubbed by the lowest combined heart rate.

"You're going down!" BM teased as Peniel hyped him up in the back. You grin brightly.

"Considering you boys are literally jumping around before the monitor is even placed, I think it's safe to say we'll win."

"Oh okay, that's how it's gonna be??" Peniel laughed. "Then let's make a bet; the loser buys everyone barbeque!"

Eric and you agreed in a heartbeat. You were already craving galbi and rice. Peniel essentially just bought the dinner you were going to buy tonight anyway.

As the heart monitors are placed, you try your best to stay calm. You were an anxious person in general, but when push comes to shove, you always had a way of relaxing yourself.

Peniel and BM went first. Eric and you teased them relentlessly during their time duration of 5 minutes. Peniel started blushing during his time up when you started throwing winks and kisses his way. Their combined score was 250.

"That's not far!" Peniel groaned as the video crew asked for a short break to recalibrate their equipment. "She's too cute, like how does someone not get flustered?"

"It's all fun and games in love and war," you winked at him. Everyone laughed except Peniel, who just took out his phone and pouted. His fingers typed furiously on his keyboard. Once it was time to get the cameras rolling again, Peniel had a knowing smirk on his face. You couldn't help but wonder what he was concocting. You just knew he was plotting his revenge against you.

Eric went first. Despite the constant harassment Peniel and BM gave him, you couldn't help but laugh at their jabs. "You're supposed to be on my team!" Eric roared at you at his last 10 seconds on the clock. Despite everything, his heart rate totaled to 120. All you had to do was ignore the comments for a minute. You got this. You sat down in the middle of the floor and crossed your legs, getting in an almost meditative position. The rest followed. Then the buzzer started.

"So," Peniel started as soon as the timer started going. "You learned Korean by yourself, right?"

You shot him a distrusting glance. "Yes..."

Peniel and BM nodded their heads slowly. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very interesting." Eric shot you a glance. He could feel it, too. Based on how the two acted Eric's turn was completely different, they were calm. Too calm. They were up to something.

"One might say," Peniel feigned thoughtfulness by stroking his chin. "You had an interest in learning Korean before you even had thought of becoming a trainee."

Crap. He saw the clip.

Before your group days, you would do little lives here and there. Just want to document your early days and interact with anyone who wants to chat. During that time, you mentioned the real reason you learned Korean was to easily watch interviews without the need for subtitles. Then you casually mentioned how much of a fan you were for a certain boy group. Your fans, which was very little back then, took those clips and circulated them online. Which was fine. It gained some traction that you were a STAY and helped grow your platform. It was a bit embarrassing, essentially admitting that you only learned the language to watch their episodes and lives to get full context. But, hey, it also helped you get to where you are today.

Getting bullied by two idols so they don't have to pay for your dinner.

"Yes, Peniel. I learned Korean so I can watch Stray Kids' interviews live." You roll your eyes but keep track of where your monitor is. 95bpm. Not bad. So long as you stayed below 130, that galbi was yours.

Peniel and BM continued to stroke their chins. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very... Stray Kids fan. Very cool"

Peniel held up a finger before leaving the room. You looked around at the crew, confused. Eric laughed and peered after him; "Where is he going?"

His question was answered as Peniel stepped back into the room with a shorter figure behind him. You moved around to peer behind Peniel, and when you locked eyes with the guest, your heart rate shot up. 110bpm.

Eric and BM rose to give a small bow when Chan said his hellos. You stayed still in your place. Embarrassment immediately washed over you. But you took a deep breath in and out, 3 minutes until you can freak out. 3 minutes, and you can process every single emotion you are feeling.

Chan gave you a little wave, his dimples showing as he smiled. Ugh, he might as well shoot you in the heart right now.

"You're not gonna stand up?" Peniel teased. You immediately shook your head. As much as you wanted to say hi, dinner was calling your name. Seeing Chan in the flesh was amazing. But Galbi beat everything at this moment. BM smiled brightly and motioned for Chan to take a seat next to you. How sweet.

2 minutes. 115bpm.

You bowed your head slightly to say hello, still a bit too stunned to speak. Chan gave a small head bow back. "Sorry about this," he chuckled. You told him it was okay, but still unable to make eye contact. Despite that, you knew he looked incredible. He always did.

Focus! You tried to snap yourself out of it and took deep breaths. In and out. In and out.

"So... you learned Korean to watch us live? That's sweet," Chan felt awkward all of a sudden. When Peniel texted him, this wasn't what he expected to be doing during the interview. "How many languages do you know?"

You close your eyes and focus back on the game. Here you were making casual conversation, while 3 other idols were jabbing at you, trying to get your heart rate back up. "Four; English, Korean, Japanese, and Spanish."

"Holy crap, how is it going down?!" Eric looked at the monitor and backed up at you. You kept your eyes closed, trying to maintain a steady rhythm. Everyone but Chan was losing their shit.

You could hear BM jump to his feet. The impending doom of a very large bill drove his heart rate up. "Chan, do something!" He exclaimed in Korean. Chan giggled next to you; "What? What do I do?"

"Hit on her!" Peniel got up as well. All attention is now on Chan. Eric stood up and pointed at the two competitors; "Hey! Hey! You leave her alone!"

You couldn't help but chuckle; "I was subscribed to his bubble. I was in the trenches with the rest of STAY. There's nothing he can say that I haven't heard."

Chan clicked his teeth with his tongue. His eyes narrowed. A challenge. He looked at you, with your eyes still closed, before casting his gaze over at Eric. "Anyway, we can mute our mics for a sec?"

Your eyes shot open.

1 minute. 120bpm.

BM ran over to mute your mic. As soon as he backed up, Chan leaned in close to your ear. His breath tickled your cheek, and you had to close your eyes again. 125 bpm. 30 seconds.

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Chan wasn't expecting you to turn your head so quickly towards him. The way your face flushed. Your eyes wide. Everything about you was making his heart race. You locked eyes with him and felt like you couldn't breathe. This was it. That free galbi was gone.

The buzzer went off.

Everyone turned to the monitor.

129bpm.

You shot up from your seat and hugged Eric. Peniel and BM groaned at their loss. Chan laughed as he watched the two of you jumping around, singing about free barbeque.

He took a moment to sneak a look at you, his gaze traveling up and down. The way your hair bounced with you and how your outfit was snuggling your curves just right. He stood up as Eric said their sign-off. Once the cameras were shut off, the teasing started between the four. Peniel placed his arm around the younger idol and pulled him in a side hug. "It's okay," he reassured Chan. "It's not entirely your fault. A good majority of it. But, not fully."

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes. Everyone came up to thank him for coming over. That's when he locked eyes with you again, giving him a bright smile.

You gave the bow you weren't able to give before, formally introducing yourself. You all talked for a bit until you felt your hunger start to spike up; "Okay, so when are we getting dinner?"

The group settled for a time later tonight so everyone could get ready. BM invites Chan to tag along.

"No no," Chan shook his head, not wanting to impose. Peniel tickled his stomach as the rest of the group tried to get him to agree. You couldn't help but chime in. Part of you being selfish and wanting to spend more time with him and also wanting to get a jab in at Peniel and BM; "Come on, it'll be fun. And free!"

Chan looked at you. It was subtle, but his cheeks turned a bit red. "Y-yea, okay."

Chan made his way back to his dorm. The rest of the members who share the space are away on their own schedules. It was rare for Chan to spend the night alone.

He groaned as he plopped on the couch. He was still a bit jet lagged from flying from NYC back home. Laying his head on the back of the couch, he tried to take a nap before having to get ready to head out for dinner with you and the rest of the group.

You.

His mind was restless, and for some reason, they kept fluttering back to you. No matter how much he tried to push them out, he couldn't stop thinking about your big doe eyes. The way your breath hitched as he leaned in. The perfume you were wearing.

Was it Channel? Gucci? Whatever it was, it was flowery like a spring day. He could still smell it on his clothes oh so slightly.

Biting his lower lip, he got up from his seat and headed to the shower. The warm water was welcoming as he tried to clear his head. Unfortunately, it seemed there was only one thing to rid him of these thoughts.

The amount of guilt he felt once he stroked his cock to the thought of you was soon discarded as his mind wandered even more.

What were you like? Did you relinquish control or demand it? Were your lips as soft as he can imagine? Your mouth--oh God. How would it feel to have it wrapped around him? Were you a moaner? A screamer? Could he scramble your brain so much that you scream for him in Korean? Would you come in multiple languages?

He sped up his pace even faster. Water cascaded down his back as he faced the tile bathroom wall. One hand on the structure to ground him as he lost himself at the thought of you. He leaned his head back as he felt himself building and building. The warm water was a comforting feeling on his scalp.

The way he would take you as soon as you entered the dorm. No words, just a clash of flesh as he stripped you of your clothes and bent you over the couch. He wouldn't waste any time and would just thrust into your--oh God. How would you feel around his dick? How tight--

He muffled a moan as he came on his hand. The shower washed away any evidence of his inappropriate thoughts of you. He panted heavily and stood under the water for a couple of moments, pleasure rippling through him soon to be replaced with an abundant amount of guilt for getting off to someone he barely knew.

Maybe that was the thrill of it. Maybe the thought of having someone who didn't know his ups and downs is what did it for him.

Chan didn't have time to dwell on the thought as the time to meet up was fast approaching. And he hated to admit, but the thought of seeing you made his now softening cock twitch.

By the time Chan arrived at the restaurant, platters and drinks were spread across the shared table. BM and Peniel bought out a room so they could enjoy their meal without prying eyes. Chan could hear them hollering in the room before he even opened the door. His ears rang as they all loudly greeted him.

"Look who finally made it!" Peniel laughed as Chan took a seat across from them. Eric and BM were putting meat on the grill as they said their greetings. Chan couldn't help but scan the room, taking note that you weren't there. He tried to play it cool as he asked if you were running late.

"She texted us saying there was something she needed to finish up at home," BM answered him. Eric couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows at Chan.

"Why? Scared she might not come?"

"No, no." Chan chuckled awkwardly while looking off to the side. "Was just wondering, is all."

The boys all made cooing noises. A flush of embarrassment washed over Chan at their teasing. Peniel smirked; "Wouldn't blame you, she's gorgeous!"

Chan poured himself a shot of soju, trying his best to drown out their teasing and take the stress away. The three men quit their teasing and talked about mundane things; schedules, new music coming out, and how big the bags under Chan's eyes were.

"I just flew back from New York!"

"Doesn't matter! Ever heard of eye cream!"

They were laughing at one another by the time you entered the room. Everyone stood up to greet you with a bow, and you bowed back. Gesturing for them to take their seats again. "Sounds like a party in here," you smiled as you took a seat next to Chan. He took note of how you wore your hair up in a messy bun, showing off your silver necklace. That flowery smell radiated off of you, and he had to lean a bit to the side so it didn't flood his senses in all the right ways.

"Is that soju or vodka?" You spot a filled shot glass from across the table. "Actually, it doesn't matter. Hand me it."

Chan watched you down the shot with a smile and motioned for Eric to pour you another one. "Hard day?"

The second shot went down a bit smoother and you gave him a grin. "You can say that."

He didn't need to know that the line he whispered in your ear had stressed you out to your core. It was possibly the hottest thing any man has ever said to you. It was all you could think about by the time you reached your dorm. His voice echoed in the back of your mind causing your body to feel hot.

He didn't need to know the real reason why you were late to dinner.

That you were squirming on your bed, rubbing yourself furiously between your legs. Trying to get all the tension out of your body before having to see him again.

And now you were sitting next to him. The man responsible for one of the best solo sessions in your life.

"I mean, I did have to spend half the day with these three." You gestured to the rest of the group who just booed at you. Eric rolled up a napkin and threw it your way, causing you to laugh.

As you and the group ate and drank, the room was beginning to get louder and louder. It wasn't long until everyone became tipsy.

You just finished cooking up your Galbi and offered it to the rest of the group who everyone, except Chan, declined. You used the tongs to bring it over to his plate before attempting to cut it. "Damn things," you huffed under your breath. The scissors were dull and worn out. Trying to cut through the meat was as effective as slicing a rib-eye with a spoon.

"Here," Chan grabbed the tongs and scissors from your hand. Despite the very brief time that his fingers brushed yours, you couldn't help but blush a bit as he gave you your half. You didn't have time to feel embarrassed as you caught Eric eyeing the two of you. He had his fingers interlaced and resting his head on them.

"You two look cute together~"

"Shut up," you mumble and grab some kimchi to add to your plate.

Chan sat quietly next to you. He plopped some food in his mouth, the best excuse he had to not comment. BM chuckled before pouring another round of drinks. "What did you say to her anyway? Peniel was screaming so loud I couldn't even hear it."

The two of you were sitting so close to one another, that you could feel Chan stiffen next to you. No doubt, wanting to avoid another round of ridicule from his colleagues.

"Awe, jealous he wasn't whispering in your ear instead?"

That snarky reply was all it took for the other two boys to holler and tease the living crap out of him. As the night progressed, soon talk of continuing the party commenced. Chan mentioned he had a free dorm tonight.

"You in?" Eric asked you. You looked up from your plate of Galbi and rice. You were so distracted by your plate that you didn't realize they were all waiting for your answer. You hesitated. You obviously had this attraction to Chan since the interview. Hell since even before you became a trainee. The frustration of him being so near, mixed with alcohol, might just be the equation for something disastrous.

Chan bit his lower lip while sneaking a glance at you. He knew it was stupid to invite everyone over. To invite you over. He was already feeling the effects of drinking so much, trying to keep pace with everyone. What if he slipped up? Did something that made you hate him?

But then a wonderful thought popped into his mind: What if something amazing happened?

"It'll be fun," Chan gave you his shy grin. Your heart raced as you two locked eyes. How could you say no to that face?

"You got this," you whispered to yourself as you stood in front of Chan's door. It wasn't every day you're invited to a celebrity's apartment. Especially one that you've imagined in bed with when you're stressed out after work. Everyone left in their own taxi after dinner, planning to meet up at Chan's. You stayed a bit behind to make some phone calls to your family overseas, promising that you would be there soon. "Totally normal get-together. Nothing to worry about."

After a couple of seconds, you gather enough courage to knock on the door. A moment or two the door swings open and Chan stands there. God, he looked great with his messy hair, black tee, and joggers. Giving him that ready-for-bed look--

"Wait, were you asleep?"

Chan's face turned red. He was in bed. But he definitely wasn't sleeping.

"They didn't text you? They got a call on the way over, their schedule moved up earlier in the morning so they headed back home."

Oh.

You pull out your phone and groan. "Batteries dead." You just had to make those calls? You knew your mom could talk your ear off.

"Sorry," you put the phone back in your pocket. Taking a step back, you start to head out. "Have a good night."

"Wait!" He couldn't just let you leave. It could be from all the alcohol, but watching you saunter away felt wrong. He wanted you near him. To stay. "It's late... You can charge your phone and call a cab here if you want."

You didn't fight it. You know you should've. Chan was right, it was late. The responsible thing to do would be to go home. But that didn't stop you from sitting on his couch waiting for your phone to charge enough to call your ride. The two of you scrolled through YouTube on his TV, chatting about anything that came to mind as you both sipped on some mixed drinks Chan concocted when you first entered the apartment.

It was weird. Without the others, conversation flowed almost naturally between you two.

"You mean to tell me, you've never watched any of your own fan cams?!" You exclaimed. Chan shook his head and laughed shyly.

"No, it felt weird watching close-ups of myself if that makes sense?"

"You really should, they always look phenomenal!"

You grabbed the remote to scroll through the recommended videos to watch. Chan took the opportunity took look you over for the umpteenth time tonight. Here he was just in joggers and an oversized shirt while you sported a cute long-sleeved crop top and tight jeans. He had to grab the pillow next to him to cover up the bulge he was sporting.

You settled on a music video by RenMakesMusic. The strum of the guitar had Chan bobbing his head along to the beat. The lyrics were a bit dark but meaningful. "This is good," Chan mused. "Turn it up a bit."

You gladly obliged with a smile, pressing the remote's volume button so his subwoofers would have to do some heavy lifting. Music filled the apartment as the two of you watched the video. You didn't realize it initially, but your shoulder pressed against his. You slowly shifted to your right, to create distance not trying to give him the wrong impression, but were surprised when he leaned back into you. It was comforting.

It was right.

"Everything okay?"

Chan's question broke through your mind wandering. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit. "Y-yea, um. Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, to the right."

Chan watched as you made your way to the guest bathroom. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on your backside. Once you disappeared, he leaned further back into the couch and groaned.

What was he doing? Letting you in this late, checking you out when you weren't looking, trying to get any physical contact no matter how little it was. It was stress, it had to be. His schedule has been so hectic lately his body was trying to find relief since his mind was almost running amock. Chan was so lost in thought that he let YouTube play on in the background. Not paying much attention to what was playing.

When you exited the bathroom, you were greeted with bongos and macarenas bouncing through the dorm. Peaking around the corner you spotted Chan leaning against the couch. He had his head back against the rest, his eyes closed. But despite his worn-down posture, he was still tapping his foot to the beat. "Aw, come on--you call that dancing?"

Your voice brought back his focus. His side smile gave you butterflies and you couldn't help but wear your own when he quipped; "Like you know how to dance to this?"

"Alright, Christopher. Get up." You grabbed the remote next to him and turned up the stereo even more. Hopefully, anyone living above or below the apartment wouldn't be able to hear how the bass shook the walls.

His grin widened at the name change. Almost nobody called him that anymore. There was a fine line between 'Chan' and 'Christopher', one that you seemed to be willing to cross.

What else were you willing to do?

Your hand was extended to him as you stood above him from his seat. The gleam in your eye was bright, almost playful. There was this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Bubbly and light. How the light casts around your silhouette made him realize why he felt the way he did when his eyes locked on you.

You were a goddess.

"You just gonna sit there? Come on, get up."

He didn't know what you said, but by the way, you grabbed onto his hand and pulled him from his seat, he knew he was in no position to argue.

You were a tough dance instructor. You corrected almost every misstep in Spanish. He couldn't comprehend your scolding, but he'll be damned to admit that at this point, he was doing it on purpose. There was something incredibly hot about being reprimanded in an unknown language.

"Dear all that is mighty," you sighed. "You're too stiff, loosen up a bit. Here, why don't you take the lead instead."

That caused his brain to malfunction a bit. He stuttered like a middle school kid being asked to dance for the first time. Without waiting for a reply, you grab his hands in yours and guide them on your body. His hold on your waist was firm, but not too tough. He didn't want to scare you away. Not when he was so close to you he could smell your shampoo. Especially, not when you wrapped your arms around his neck and those eyes of yours were peering into his soul as you two stepped to the fast beat.

"Feel how my hips are moving?"

Oh, you bet he does.

Pushing those thoughts away, Chan tried to mimic your movement. "That's better!" You praised it, and it took everything in him not to press his body flush against yours right at that moment. He hated to admit it, but as the next song played, something with a slower tempo, every step you took with him around the living room, he somehow magically ended up closer to you.

This is the part where both of you could blame the alcohol.

You both were too inebriated to notice the fact that your phone was fully charged, that your fingers started to play with the bottom of his hair, or the fact that your faces were so close together. Chan's forehead rested on yours as the playlist finally died down to a softer ballad. YouTube ironically telling you two to slow down. But neither showing signs of listening.

"We...are going down a path you might regret." Chan closed his eyes to help steady his breathing. How were you able to do this earlier today? He felt like his heart was going to combust on the spot.

"That I might regret?" You whispered. Being this close to him felt surreal. You were sure you were about to wake up in your bed feeling very frustrated. "You won't?"

The feel of the pressure of your body was draining all his excitement from his chest to his dick. Another form of pressure was beginning to press against his underwear. A flood of penance sprung as quickly as his blood flowed to his quickening erection. "We just barely met. We don't know each other."

You pull away slightly so you can look up at him.

"Then, get to know me."

Chan knew this wasn't what you meant. But, it was too late to turn back now.

You were half-naked, a trail of clothes leading to his room.

For every question he asked, an article of your outfit was essentially ripped off you. Every question you answered, you returned the favor.

"Favorite food?" Whoops, there goes that necklace.

"Beef jerky with sticky rice." Goodbye, Chan's shirt!

He kissed you deeply and backed you up towards his bed. A brief pause as you fell into the soft cushions and he stared down at you. Your lips were puffy, chest rising and falling as you were trying to catch your breath. As much as he reveled in the thought of you being a goddess, there was something about bringing down a higher power that made him absolutely feral. Breaking you down bit by bit with every question.

He climbed on the bed to hover over you, that stupid side smile making another appearance for the night. "That's not exactly a 'food', more of a meal."

"Sorry if I'm--ah. A bit distracted." You close your eyes as he attaches his lips right below your ear. Sucking on your soft skin, not hard enough to leave bruising, but a temporary mark just for his eyes.

Biting your lower lip, you happily extended your neck a bit to give him more access. Mind all fuzzy and unable to think as he littered your neck with small kisses. Chan gripped your thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting your hips just enough to hold you close to his pelvis, kneading your thighs through your tights.

"Need you to focus." He nipped softly at your skin. "How else am I going to learn everything about you?

"Favorite position?" His fingers went under the hem of your tights and helped you shed the last outer part of your outfit. Once it was thrown somewhere across his room, you wrapped the leg he was holding up around his back and used what momentum you could gather to push his back on the bed. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your hips as you straddled him.

Your lips were soft and gentle as you leaned in for a kiss, the complete opposite of the intensity shared just moments before. "Don't care, so long as I'm full."

Chan wasted no time by stripping himself of his joggers and boxers on your behalf. Stifling a moan as best as he could once he felt your clothed core perfectly placed on his growing erection. Guiding your hips to grind against him, he grinned as you threw your head back and sighed in content. Chan rocked his hips perfectly to the rhythm he set against you, providing the much-needed friction you craved.

You were starting to think he was tanking at dancing salsa on purpose.

"Anything off limits?" You couldn't even register that his hands snuck up to undo your bra clasp. He took a second to appreciate the view. Chan couldn’t stop himself from using his forearms to prop himself up to latch onto one of your nipples. Licking and sucking at anything he could grab. The mewls coming from your mouth sounded like a song he never wanted to end. Your hand caressed the back of his head, pressing him closer.

“Just--mmm. Just don’t stop even if I say so.”

Leaving your breast with a wet ‘plop’, he stared up at you. You could see the usual gleam in his eyes disappear. They became dark, almost predatory. Chan lifted you off so he could be above you again. He traced your skin from the collarbone down to the hem of your underwear. You arched your back at his touch; “Luckily for you--I like begging.”

Your breath hitched. Surely, he could see the wet stain on your underwear by now.

“Any safe words then?”

Last question.

Chan finger slipped underneath the cloth and played with your folds. The way you squirmed underneath him made him want to ruin you more. The chuckle he let out when you tried to squeeze your thighs together made you feel warm all the way down to your core. Chan was quick to use his body to keep you nice and spread. All for him.

“L-lemon…”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you.” Chan slipped the tip of his middle finger in you. “Could you speak up a bit?”

“Pendej--mmmphhh” You couldn’t finish your quip. Chan pushed in further until he was knuckle-deep. His lips hovered over yours as he slowly worked in and out of you. You kept arching and writhing as he continued his ministrations, mouth wide open as you let out silent moans.

“Ah, ah--I wanna hear you.” Once he added in a second finger, you couldn't contain yourself. Moans were spilling out of you like a pornstar. Even when he kissed you, there was nothing to stop the volume you were outputting. “Good job, baby.”

“Oh?” He chuckled as he felt your walls clamp down on him. “Did you like that?”

You couldn't speak as he kept pressing into you, wiggling his fingers against your walls. “C-chan…please…”

“Sorry, what was that?” He teased as he kissed around your collarbone.

“Chan…”

The bastard kept pretending not to hear you. As if he couldn't feel you practically leaking around his fingers and clenching around him like there was no tomorrow.

You finally had enough.

Grabbing ahold of his face with one hand, you forced him to look at you. His cheeks smashed between your fingers. “Christopher, I swear to God--if you don't fuck me right now I'm taking over.”

Ah, so you did like to be in charge.

With a grin, he gladly ripped off your panties. He pulled away just a bit, taking in your appearance. Wanting to embed it into his brain for any future sessions he might have with himself later on.

He knew he should've grabbed a condom, but the alcohol was still flowing through him and he couldn’t stop himself as he slowly pushed into you. You tried finding words; how big he felt, how full he made you, but all that could come out were whimpers as he groaned and leaned in for another kiss to ease any pain you felt.

The two of you grind against one another. Chan never fully pulled out, keeping himself nice and snug in your warmth. Stretching you out, oh so sweetly.

Chan wasted no time in picking up his thrust as you tapped his shoulder, indicating that he was okay to move. You squeaked as he hooked your knees on his shoulders and leaned down to essentially bend you in half. He was hitting a spot you never felt before; not with previous boyfriends and definitely not with your own toys at home.

“So fucking tight…” Chan hissed as his pace sped up to the point he was jackhammering into you. His lips found their way back to your neck and kept mumbling about how you felt around him. So tight, so warm, just right. His teeth nipped your ear lobe, desperate to grab onto something but knowing he couldn’t mark you up too much. “Is this good, baby? Need it harder, faster?”

When you didn’t respond to him, he slowed down a bit and leaned back to stare down at you. His cock twitched when he realized what was happening.

You laid on the bed; eyes glazed over, mouth wide open, cheeks completely flushed. You knew he was asking you a question in Korean, but the words weren’t forming in your head like they usually do. “Aw,” Chan laughed. “Does it feel that good that you forgot Korean?”

Chan let up on the pressure so his hand can snake its way to your lips. You instantly latch on to his fingers and suck. Your tongue brushes around his tips, tasting the leftover residue of yourself from earlier. Your knees unhook from his shoulder and fall on either side of his waist. A whimper leaves you as he removes his fingers from your mouth and travels down to rub your clit. Still keeping his thrust with his brutal pace.

“Ahhh…wait…” You squirmed and your hand went to grab his wrist. Chan noticed how you didn’t pull his hand away despite your pleas. “Chan, p-please--too much.”

He kept using your body. Chan could feel you clamping down around his length. “Sorry,” he breathed out as he felt the pressure in his balls rising. “You’re just, hmmmph, too perfect.”

That’s what did it for you. The fact that he listened to what you mentioned earlier, and his talk. The crash of pleasure that overcame you was intense. Chan shuddered as he felt your wave around him. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” you came with a cry. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to ground yourself in any way that you could. You were loud. Nothing could stop the curses that flowed out of you as you held him close against you. Chan wasn’t far behind; “Oh, I-I’m gonna--”

He pulled out and stroked his cock rapidly around his head, painting your stomach with his warm cum. Of all the art museums he visited around the world--this was by far his favorite piece of work.

The room was filled with both of your heavy pants as he laid in your arms. Once he was able to catch his breath, Chan pulled away from your embrace placing the gentlest kiss on your lips. Humming as you kissed him back. He tried to get up, but you were quick to stop him.

“Don’t go…” You pouted. Part of you knew this would be a one-time thing, but another part never wanted this to end. Chan smiled down at you and gave your cheek a quick peck.

“I’m just grabbing a towel to clean you off.”

As he walked off to the bathroom you stared down at the mess on your abdomen. The remnants of the best sex of your life were starting to cake on your skin. It took everything in you to not scoop some up and taste him in your mouth. When Chan returned with a wet cloth, he cleaned you up before plopping onto the bed beside you.

Once you caught your breath, reality set in.

Here you were, all fucked out with a colleague in the same industry. Everything told you to leave. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship. It was a rash decision based on a lot of alcohol and dancing. You started to get up, but Chan was quick to wrap his hand in yours.

“You…you don’t have to go…” Chan shifted to lay on his side and stared down to not meet your eyes. Acting all shy as if he didn’t fuck the lights out of you just moments before. Your heart melted at the sight.

Slinking back into bed, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest. His cheek pressed against the top of your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat against you and closed your eyes.

“You know,” you sighed. “This was something I definitely didn’t regret.”

“Me ‘neither.”

As the morning rolled around you woke up to Chan still wrapped around you. His soft snores made you smile. There was something surreal about seeing him so at peace that made your heart flutter. Placing a small kiss on his cheek, Chan shifted slightly and groaned as he stretched a bit.

“Mornin’,” He grumbled but held a smile as soon as his eyes landed on you. Chan wasted no time in pulling you into a kiss. His hands sneaking towards your ass to knead your flesh. His excitement is present against your thigh.

"Somebody's eager," You giggle as he pressed closer to you. Chan smirked as he gently rubbed his morning wood against you.

"You can say that."

"Unfortunately--"

Chan grumbled and hid his face in the crook of your neck. "No, don't say that."

"I was just going to say, that I need some water first." It was true. After all the drinks last night, your head was pounding like never before.

"Okay," Chan smiled and got up from bed to put a pair of boxers on. "Stay put, I'll grab you something to eat too."

Minutes passed as you waited in bed. Surprise overtook you as you heard a pan sizzling and the welcoming smell of home-cooking started to flood the dorm. Dawning one of his shirts, you made your way to the kitchen. Chan's back was to you as he manned the stove. You could see how his back rippled with every movement he made.

You couldn't see it, but a smile crept on Chan's face as he felt you wrap your arms around his midriff. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

"I'm not one for taking orders." You laugh as you hook your chin on his shoulder to peer over him. "Besides," Chan stiffened a bit as he felt your lips hover over his ear. "There's something sexy about a man cooking."

"Oh?" He quickly turned off the stove and turned around to face you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he leaned down closer to your face. "And what about your water?"

It was a frenzy of passion as your lips locked with his yet again. Both of you eager to relive last night in the light of sobriety. "Water can wait," you whisper in between kisses.

Chan easily lifted you, placing you on an open counter. Your legs spread to allow him access to be closer to you. The both of you started to mold into one another as the intensity grows. "I should cook for you more often," He grins as he breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath. He lifted his shirt on you slightly so your cunt was exposed.

"Promise?" You teased as he lowered himself down slightly to bring his lips level to your core. Chan enjoyed the way your head leaned back slightly as you felt his hot breath against you.

"Promise."

The both of you were so entranced with what was about to happen, that you didn't hear the door opening. Only the shrilly scream that bounced around the dorm broke you two apart.

You instantly jumped down from the counter as Chan stood upright, finding protection from behind him. Chan tried using his body to shield your half-naked body from the view of a very frightened Felix.

Not that he really needed too.

The younger member held both hands over his eyes. Groceries bags around him, spilling its contents around the floor.

"Felix?" Chan stuttered as he grabbed a kitchen rag to cover up his erection. "W-what are you doing here?"

Chan gestured for you to run back to the room as Felix was still covering his eyes. You had no hesitation, wanting to escape from the embarrassment. AKA your own personal hell.

"I didn't want you eating alone... I was gonna make breakfast."

Author's Note: Here it is! Please let me know what you think. I'm also open to requests, I really want to get back into writing and interacting more on here. If you'd like to be added to my taglist please interact with this post (linked). Bye~

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satorena · 1 year ago

Text

: ̗̀➛ TRAPPED WITH U !?

featuring. g. satoru x fem!reader

warnings. explicit content, foul language, intern!reader, businessman!gojo, satoru’s a bit of a pervert in this one, and also really fucking annoying but he’s just in love fr, oral, slight breath play, unprotected sex, breeding. they fuck in an elevator, and i use a lot of italics here, oops!

rena’s note. he’s so fucking insufferable i want him so bad. also this 4.3k words. i’m so sorry.

oh but of course, since the odds were always against your favour, had you found yourself stuck in this incredulous predicament.

it’d been a long day of enduring misogynistic, narcissistic higher ups and pricks, and you wanted nothing more than to hop in your car and drive off home, hop in bed and sleep.

sounded like an ideal and realistic plan, until the sole purpose of your life’s oppression waltzed in seconds before the elevator’s doors shut, pearly white teeth flashing through a smug grin and icy blues shimmering through dark shades that rested atop his nose bridge.

you huffed, almost at your wit’s end as the elevator’s door automatically reopened at the unwanted presence detected in its sensory, and the tall frame steps in with slow strides and a stupid fucking smile on his lips, hands in the pockets of his slacks, striding as if he stepped out of vogue’s magazine.

“see somethin’ you like, wifey?” satoru chuckled, stepping side to side by your posed frame. why he chose to stand beside in this very unoccupied elevator, you’d never understand but you did know you weren’t going to entertain his bullshit today.

you bit back the insult that rested at the tip of your tongue, “floor?” your index finger hovered over the panel, waiting for him to tell you.

“same as yours,” gojo shrugged, to which you decided on closing the doors instead.

“what business you got on the 2nd floor?” you muttered, suspicions growing at the fact that he coincidentally had shit to do on the same floor as yours.

the boyish smirk he flashed you sent chills down your spine, “whatever business you got on that floor.”

you sighed exasperatedly, soon piecing together that gojo was certainly not going to the second floor to pack his belongings to head home, seeing as he was one of the higher ups that spent longer hours in the office when the interns’ shifts would end.

you pinch the bridge of your nose; “gojo.” you say his name, tone clipped and full of fatigue.

“y/n.” he answers back with your name, a flashy grin baring on thirty two teeth.

you breathe in deeply, reminding yourself to count to ten before you lost your shit. you step near the control panel and press on the main lobby floor, the first, where you decide to send him off. chances were he was heading down there to do his daily flirting with the new secretary hired anyway.

“did ya change your mind?” his voice spawns from right at your ear, and you still in shock at his proximity, noting he’s much closer to you than earlier. “we goin’ to the first floor instead?”

“we are not going anywhere.” you tilt your head to the side, glaring at him through your falsies. he shifts his own head, still fucking smiling, feigning ignorance. “you are going to the first floor, and i’m going to the fifth.”

his smile drops, finally, but at what cost? “why would i do that?” he has the nerve to genuinely sound confused, as if you were the one not making any sense out of this situation.

“why wouldn’t you?” you counter back, lifting an index finger to place atop his forehead, before pushing his head back, “don’t you got better shit to do? like harass a newbie and disguise it as flirting or somethin’?”

“is that not what i’m doing right now?” he jokes, grabbing the finger that pushed him back. you scowl, a bit upset at the fact you walked right into that one.

“besides,” he speaks up, directing your finger towards the control panel once more. “what if i had business on the… seventh floor?”

you furrow your brows, your own eyes watching as he uses your nail to press on the seventh floor button. you try to ignore how warm and soft his hands feel against your, in contrast to the coolness of his rings.

“orrrr,” he drags out, tightening the hold on your hand once more and raising your hand higher on the panel. “what if i had business on the thirteenth floor? maybe the ninth too?”

“gojo.” you warn him, clicking your tongue when realizing what game he’s starting to play at. you definitely don’t feel goosebumps form at your skin hearing his chuckle resonate right in your ear.

“that german intern’s a babe, ain’t she?” he hums pensively, his thumb rubbing circles at the center of your palm. “i might wanna see her too.” he brings your hand to the eight floor and applies enough pressure to see it illuminate.

“are you fucking kidding me?” you get annoyed, attempting to rip your hand away from his hold but fail, when you feel him creep even closer in your bubble, your ass undoubtedly pressing into his crotch.

your eyes widen, half shock half disbelief, a sudden appearance of what seems to be gojo junior stirring awake poking at your short skirt. oh fuck.

“or,” he whispers, minty breath sending jolts of electricity up your back. he drags your hand messily over the panel, about three fourths of the floors illuminating and you know you’re fucked. “maybe i wanna stay stuck in here with you…”

you blink back to reality, dismissing whatever possible emotion you were beginning to feel emerge in your core. with a sharp tug, you manage to free yourself from his grasp and turned on your heel to face the tall bastard.

“i’m gonna need you to back off and instantly—you fuckin’ creep.” you snarl, pointer finger pointing at him accusingly, hoping it sets an exemplary distance between you both.

gojo breaks into laughter, the kind that has his shoulders shaking and has him doubling over as if you’d just told him the world’s greatest joke. you watch him dumbfoundedly, your left eye twitching as he continued to ridicule you.

“fine, fine. sorry princess, i was just teasing.” he pushes his frames up to his hairline, messy strands of hair pushed out the way as he wipes a fake tear from the corner of his eyes.

you roll your eyes, pushing past him to make your way back to where you’d been prior to these stupid events. if you were gonna be stuck on this elevator ride longer than necessary because of the pit stops, you’d simply ignore him and hope he catches the hint.

you stare straight ahead at the elevator door, feeling the ride descend from the twentieth floor downwards. fuck that tall, stupid and rich bastard for dragging this elevator ride past its needed time limit.

from your peripheral, you make out his form leaning forward to catch your straight gaze. you were ignoring him and he knew, “you mad at me?”

you remain quiet, silently praying that at one of these next stops another worker would step in and ease the situation more.

gojo frowns, eyebrows pinched to the center his forehead, “c’mon, i was joking! honest! i really am sorry.”

the silence, safe for the elevator music, answered him everything he needed to know. you were always such difficult nut to crack, but what you failed to acknowledge was the more you pushed him away the more he grew attracted to you.

he sighs, before slinging his arm over your shoulders, dropping most of his body weight onto you. he watches as you nearly stumble from the sudden imbalance, before looking up to him with that adorable pout of yours that he wants to fuck out of you.

oops.

“what now, gojo?” you ask him with so much attitude, your expression bored. “can’t leave me alone for a single fucking elevator ride? you that obsessed with bothering me?”

“you got it all wrong,” gojo shakes his head, snow white tresses shaking with him and his shades falling right back to place on his nose. “i’m not obsessed with bothering you— i’m obsessed with you period. been obsessed since that time you chucked piping hot coffee on my givenchy button down.”

you frown deeply at that, reflecting at how long ago that had been. you knew what kind of guy he was. after all, who hadn’t heard of gojo satoru in this forsaken company? he dipped his dick in anything with a pulse and moved onto the next big thing whenever he got bored—

or so you’ve heard.

you stare at him for a minute, processing his words. he shamelessly stares back at you, now looping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

“see something you like, wifey?” he repeats himself, his favorite nickname for you making another appearance. you ignore how his hands stroke your bare arms.

you stifle a laugh, snorting incredulously at him before breaking into a full blown laughter. maybe you now understood why gojo had done the same just a little while ago, because the look of offence on his face had made the situation funnier than it was initially.

“what’s funny?! i’m here professing my feelings for you and you’re laughing?!” gojo complains like the manchild he is, dragging syllables and all, rosy lips falling into a pout.

“fuck— i’m sorry, did you think i was gonna believe that?” your laughter dies down, sighing deeply in attempts to catch your breath. “no, seriously, do you take me for an idiot?”

“believe it or not, it’s the truth,” he mumbles, leaning his chin at the top of your skull. “even ask nanamin. been treating him as my walking diary since suguru left.”

you don’t want to think about if that holds any truth or not. you tilt your head up, enforcing eye contact with him, “i think you’re confused. it’s definitely not love, or anything in between. you’re just horny and want to fuck me.”

“well,” he looks down, mouth salivating at the point of view presented of your breast, sitting up in all their glory in your blouse. “i won’t lie and say that isn’t true. but why is it so hard to believe i have feelings for you? i literally am obsessed with you, why else would i deliberately wast time and sit through all twenty floors here with you?”

speaking of, you look at the indicator and notice you’re only at the seventeenth floor. how slow was this damn ride? there’s absolutely no way you’d only been through less three floors this whole time? was time still in this elevator or what?

wait—

“oh shit.” you hear the man cuss. you fear that’s all the confirmation you needed, as your eyes pan towards the control panel and notice all the buttons are illuminating on and off.

silence fills the air, and you’re just realizing the elevator music had stopped playing. your luck bites, you decide, as you reevaluate all you wanted to do; grab your shit from the second floor and go the fuck home.

you try not to freak out, the fear of being trapped in an elevator period catching up to you mixed with anger rising in your blood at the blue eyed freak who’s the sole cause for this unfortunate situation.

“don’t freak out, but like,” he begins to speak, corner of his lips tugging into a sympathetic smile, “we’re definitely stuck here.”

he deserves the punch to the guts he gets.

“you sit your ass on that end of the room,” you push him to one extremity of the elevator. he’s doubled over, groaning in agony at the blow he received. “and i’ll be sitting here. do not, and i cannot stress this enough, talk to me.”

time flies really fucking slowly, you notice as you check your dying phone every five minutes, waiting for the damn maintenance of this place to do their job and get you out of this elevator.

gojo had complied to your demand and hasn’t said a word to you in about twenty minutes. his long legs sprawled across the floor, one leg raised as he rested his arm atop his knee.

you didn’t want to admit it, but you were getting bored. and hungry. very hungry, and uncomfortably hot. did the air conditioning in here cut off too? most likely, damn your life.

you sat as gracefully as you could in your tight skirt and heels, tucking your legs into chest in hopes your shins were covering your inner thighs. though, you weren’t certain if you were doing a good job, judging by the way you could feel gojo’s stare at you behind the shades and the way he shifted in his seat.

he tilts his head to the side, index finger swiping over his nose and he sniffs, “figures you’re the lace type.”

you feel all the fight flee your body, all but exhausted as you bite into whatever he chews. you needs entertainment, even if it came in form of a 6’3 imbecile with an outfit the cost of your rent.

“figures you’ve been staring at my panties this whole time, when else are you ever this quiet?” you clap back, making no motion to switch positions. besides, he was manspreading with his whole boner poking through his slacks and he remained shameless. why couldn’t you?

he smirks, lifting his hand and leaning his cheek in his palm, “i’ve spent the last twenty minutes thinking about the things i’d do to you if you’d let me.”

gojo was so fucking shameless, you hated how it turned you on at times. you must’ve been truly out of it, lack of food in your system or something, because your answer flies out of you almost too naturally, “show me your worst then.”

in the blink of an eye, you both find yourselves back on your feet, your back pressed against the wall of the elevator as your lips mold feverishly with his. gojo kisses you like he’s been wanting to do so for years, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pushing your body tighter against him.

you’re no better, hands flying to the back of his neck and your nails tugging at messy locks. he moans against your lips at a particular tug, one hand slipping past your waist and slides up your thigh. he lifts your leg and wraps it around his hip, applying pressure into the middle of your legs.

“fuck,” you moan softly against pink lips, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. he hums, your bottom lip tucked in his teeth as he pushes up into you once more.

“feel good?” he mumbles against your lips, sneaking a few kisses while awaiting for your response. his hold on your thigh is firm, wanting to hold you in place to keep grinding into you and drawing these pretty sounds out of you.

you nod your head before throwing it back against the wall, to which his lips leave yours to attack at your neck. he’s kissing and licking and nipping at your sensitive skin, leaving dark love bites.

“you fuckin’ teenager,” you complain, knowing he was intentionally marking you in visible areas, so you’d be the next talk of the week. “just had to be there, didn’t it?”

“couldn’t help it,” you feel his smirk against your jugular, to which you roll your eyes. “you smell so fucking good here, shit, i could eat you up— actually…”

you snort as he pulls away from the crook of your neck, and you eye how dishevelled he looks. even with messy hair, saliva streaking his cheeks and swollen lips, he still looked fucking hot.

you don’t have much time to reflect on his beauty because he’s soon kneeling down in front of you, hands creeping up in your skirt and tugging down at your lace undergarment. it slides off your legs with ease, and is soon in his possession, to which he stuffs in his pockets.

“i will.” he finally completes his sentence, lifting your leg over his shoulder.

he holds a firm grip on your thigh as your skirt hikes up, and he feasts. his lips latch onto your lower ones and slurps up your juices. his tongue swipes at your wet folds, moaning at the taste, which drives you to mush.

you throw your head back, hands coming in contact with his tresses, expressing the delight you feel through the tugs at his hair. whenever you’d pull hard at his hair, he’d moan into your cunt, which would result in making you moan louder and pull harder, and the cycle repeats.

“f-fuck, hah—gojo,” you whine when you feel a single digit prod into your pussy. he multitasks with fucking you open with his finger while sucking at your clit and lapping up your juices.

“shit, mhm, keep going,” you push his head deeper into your legs, momentarily forgetting you’re cutting out his breathing circulation.

you then realize he truly doesn’t mind, as his eyes roll to the back of his skull and moans even more sinfully into your dripping pussy.

it didn’t take much more than a few extra fingers to drive you over the edge, and you spray your essence in his mouth as he happily swallows every single drop you offer to him. your thighs quake and you feel yourself lose balance but he makes sure to hold you still.

you ride your high on his face, breathing heavily as you come down from your orgasm. he pulls away from in between your legs, breathing heavily with a smitten smile on his lips. “bon appétit,” he jokes, using the back of his hand to wipe himself clean.

you snort at his childishness, “shut up and gimme a moment to return you the favour.”

and just like that, you find yourself now kneeling and gojo hovered over you. he stretched his arm to hold himself up against the wall while simultaneously watching you swallow his cock whole.

now, all cocky shit aside, gojo was nowhere near small sized. he packed a big one, and the fact that you were so confidently gobbling him up, head bobbing up and down on his length, hands twisting and jerking whatever you failed to reach.

“fuckfuckfuck—shiiit, dammit y/n, your mouth feels fuckin’ amazing,” gojo whines pathetically, leaning his forehead against the cool wall.

it unintentionally forces his tip deeper in your throat and you gag around him, throat constricting around his dick and fuck if his knees hadn’t buckled.

you knew gojo was a spontaneous man, so him suddenly reaching the back of your head and pushing you deeper on his dick shouldn’t have surprised you. you were now deepthroating him as he praised you endlessly, telling you how perfect you were taking him, how warm and tight your mouth felt, how he was going to cum if you kept playing with his balls.

when he does nut, your nose reaches his pubic hairs, curly white hairs ticking you as you inhale his musk in attempt to force yourself to suppress your gag. he cums a riverbank down your throat and naturally you swallow it all, pulling off him when he finishes and seeing a string of cum and saliva connect his blushing pink tip to your lips.

“fuck,” he chuckles breathlessly, hand laying atop of your head and patting your hair gently before sliding down to your jaw. his thumb strokes your skin, “come up here, wanna kiss you again.”

“sap.” you tease but lift yourself, knees wobbly but you manage.

you’re back to standing, and your hands quickly find themselves back to his nape, threading your fingers gently through his hair. he kisses you much less rushed but instead takes his time, savours the taste of him on your tongue as you taste yourself on his.

the kiss is sensual and sloppy, drool pooling at the corner of your lips as he kisses you like his lifeline depends on it. his hands slip at your ass, grabbing the mounds with handfuls.

he pulls away just slightly, wording against your lips “jump.”

you comply, jumping and he catches you gracefully, showing no signs of struggle. you wrap your legs around his waist and proceed to kiss him again, your back coming in contact with the wall. you feel him grind his hardening dick against your bare pussy, and if you had half your regular mind, you’d have been embarrassed by how badly you were dripping over him.

“‘m gonna fuck you now,” gojo mumbles against your lips, lips peppering kisses at the corner of your saliva coated mouth. “that good with you, princess?”

you give him a flat look, fingers still carding through his soft locks. “use your thinking skills and guess.”

he smiles at you, almost too sincere and raw, and you feel your eyes shy away from his gaze, focusing instead at the beauty mark marked at the base of his neck. “hey, consent is sexy, meanie.”

“the sexiest,” you feed into his bite, giggling when you feel him nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck. his crown of hair tickles at your skin. “now hurry up.”

you surely don’t have to tell him twice as he pulls out of your neck and grabs the base of his dick, placing his tip at your pulsating hole and pushes inside.

the synchronization of both your moans blend into each others, as your gaze on one another never breaks. he watches you intently, blue eyes narrowing into your facial reactions, wanting to memorize every twitch of muscles in case this was ever his last opportunity to.

“mmhm—yes, baby,” you claw at his back, eyes droopy and hazy as he thrusts into you at a slow yet intense pace. if gojo noticed the term of endearment you slipped up, he made no show in pointing it out, and you were thankful.

the stretch of his cock at your pussy sent a fiery feeling spreading towards all of your limbs. the squelching of your pussy tightening and clenching at his dick filling the room. he soon picked up his pace, railing into you with every fibre in his body, loving the way your body bounced up in reaction to his thrusts.

he fucked you into that wall, dug so deep into your cunt you were sure you felt him in your stomach. well no wonder why women were obsessed with him, he was definitely a pleaser. a stinging bitter feeling momentarily crawled up your throat before dissipating when you caught his eyes staring at you with something you’d usually refer to as admiration.

“god, this pussy is heaven fucking sent—never had anythin’ like it—oh shit baby, gotta have more of this— gotta have more of you, please y/n—need this all the fuckin’ time,” he praised you like it was the only thing he knew how to do.

he was a verbal man, you knew, but it amplified during sexual activities. you shamefully moaned at every praise he threw at you, pussy clenching at his dick, warmth oddly settling in your chest. you scratched at his back, he bit into your shoulders, nipped at your lips and rammed your core.

in little to no time, you felt that tide of pleasure washing over you, your cervix unable to take anymore of his tip bullying into it.

“gojo, fuckkk, ‘m so fucking close!” you mewl brokenly, as tears stream down your cheeks from the overriding pleasure.

“satoru,” he breathes out, his name falling straight within earshot. his hips never give up, but his request is asked based off raw emotions, “call me satoru—please,”

your mind is running miles a minute, the tightening of your gut on the brink of snapping and spraying your dam yet again all over him.

he whimpers with his nose pressed at your jugular, his grip on your thighs so tight your bound to have bruises form soon, and your back begins to ache from repeatedly being pushed up against an uncomfortable surface.

but fuck, you were so fucking close.

“hnng—satoru!” you cry as your orgasm washes over you, rakes through your body from head to toe, muscles spasming in his hold.

you leak like a faucet, and he follows suit, moaning your name all brokenly, whimpering and whining in your ear as he pumps your pussy full of his cum. for a split second you feel your bodies merge into one, the orgasm so intense you almost forgot just who and where this was happening.

eventually, you both ride down from your highs, and satoru places you down to your feet, though never pulling out of you. his dick is snug in your warm walls, and he’s tempted to stay like this for longer, until you decide to speak.

“c’mon big guy, pull out.” you tap at his chest gently, pulling him out of his daydream. “we have no idea when maintenance’ll show up.”

he blinks slowly, nodding as he acknowledges your words. it’s almost a damn miracle they hadn’t shown up while satoru was fucking you, but now that the lust had faded away, you almost felt ashamed of yourself.

“yeah just— gimme a second.” he breathes to himself, silently wishing he’d been able to bask in the aftercare with you a little longer. he guesses he should’ve known better than to expect such in an elevator of all places.

you remain quiet and he hates it. did you regret it already? is he back to square one with you?

you bite your lip, “goj— satoru.”

he perks his head up and you swear you see his ears wiggle as if he were a dog. his eyes shimmer with hope and you don’t think he’s ever looked this pretty before, “what’s up?”

“i’m gonna need my panties back, you know.” you nod your head towards his pocket where your lace undergarments were stuffed. “they were my favorite.”

“what a shame, guess you’ll have to grab it another day.” he sighs dramatically, feigning despair. giggling, you feel his fingers drum at your bare waist, “say, maybe friday night around 7pm at your place?”

“guess i have no other choice, do i?” you sigh just as dramatically, pulling him closer by the collar of his wrinkly white button down. he grins so widely your cheeks hurt for him, or maybe they hurt for yourself as you reflected his grin.

“i don’t make the rules baby.”

this was definitely rushed but leave me alone 🖐🏾.

#rena☆star.#gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu gojo

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mostlymarvelsstuff · 1 month ago

Text

Ravaged

Summary: A symbiote bonds with Y/n against her will on a mission, and while the symbiote is getting the other heroes out of its way it decides to take something it knows its host wants.

Authors note: italics are Y/ns internal thoughts. Bold italics are the symbiotes internal thoughts.

Warnings: non con-ish (neither really want it while R is in that state, but both eventually do give into their desires), bottom/subby Nat, smut (fingering, tendril penetration)

Word count: 4756

Nat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Halloween 2024 Masterlist

As you, Tony, Nat and Steve make your way further into the laboratory some movement on a nearby table catches the geniuses attention. He heads over and the faceplate of his helmet comes up to allow him to see what he spotted with his own eyes. Curiosity gets the better of you and you head over to see as well.

“Whatcha find?”

“Don’t know kid, but whatever it is, its reactive”

You look at the small dish of blue liquid-like substance and as he points to it, to your amazement, the liquid moves. It almost jumps back as if trying to keep its distance from him, as if it had a mind of its own, which was ridiculous.

“Woah, that's weird”

“Very” he replies, but before he can have JARVIS run a scan, Steve interrupts

“What's weird?”

You point at it just as the billionaire had, “This thing Tony found”

“Watch it!”

You turn back to Tony, confused by what he meant, but you quickly find out when you feel something latch on to your hand. Startled, you looked down to see whatever this goo was now holding onto you, and quickly spreading.

“Oh shit!” Tony exclaims as he watches you try to shake it off only for it to move further up your forearm.

“What the hell?!”

Your shout gains the attention of the Russian, who rushes over to see what the fuss is about. She's not sure what she expected, but seeing some strange goop slowly engulfing one of your arms wasn’t even on the list of possibilities

“Y/n!” she immediately moves to help you but Steve quickly grabs her, “Rogers, let me go!”

Steve, sensing this thing is far more dangerous than first glance might lead one to believe, shakes his head, “I can’t do that”

Her secret feelings for you outweigh her rational mind currently however, and starts to struggle in his grasp. She helplessly watches as you, in sheer desperation, grab at it with your freehand. To her horror and yours, this backfires, and now the thing latches onto that hand as well.

“Oh fuck!”

“Tony, do something!” she shouts, practically clawing at Steve's arms as he wraps them around her torso in a bear hug to prevent her from pulling any sort of maneuver to make him let go

Tonys panicked face looks at her before he makes the faceplate cover himself once more, “What can I do Nat?! I don’t want to be grabbed by it too!”

You hold your arms out in front of you with a look of pure terror and stumble backwards as the thing reaches your shoulders. Your hip bumps into a nearby desk which causes you to falter, and as you stumble Natasha notices how the blue substance begins to practically seep into your tactical suit. Your underarms and chest start to quickly take on that same bright color and odd texture just as small tendrils of it creep up your neck. She can feel her heart in her throat as it seems to be taking you over, and just then your eyes finally meet hers

“Tasha..” you whimper, feeling it begin to encase the back of your head

That snaps her out of her panic induced docile state, and with little regard for what he might think or feel she hits Steve's forearm with a widow's bite. He lets out a shocked sound as he seizes and she uses that to her advantage. An elbow to the sternum has him falling away from her, and she uses her other arm to clear his hands of her as he stumbles backwards and falls to the ground

“Natasha, what the hell!?” Tony shouts, clearly shocked by her actions, but he opts to stay where he is between you and her instead of going to help the soldier

“She needs help”

“She needs a hazmat team, or to be seen at area 51!” he replies, only partially joking, “We don’t know what this is Nat!”

“Or what it's doing to her!” she stresses, eyebrows knitting in further turmoil as she watches you fall to your knees behind him, “Tony, please!”

He glances back at you just in time to see your head droop down, you gaze going to the floor as the goo covers your head entirely, and that's when everything goes black for you. You can still hear, and somewhat see, but it's more like it's an out of body experience than it is your own. You don’t even have control over your own body anymore, everything you tell it to do, every way you try to fight back, goes ignored

“Shit” he mutters, but this time as Nat moves past him he does nothing to stop her

She approaches you cautiously, noting that there's not an inch of you not covered by this mysterious substance. And though she saw how ruthlessly it took over you she can’t help but reach out. When it doesn’t react the same way as it had with you she lets her hand touch your shoulder. The goo feels nearly solid now and cool to the touch, and though it does nothing to her, it unnerves her. It almost feels like it hums beneath her palm, reacting to her in a way she can’t currently understand

“Y/n?” Your head snaps up and looks at her, and she feels her stomach drop as wide golden eyes meet her gaze

“We…Are Ravage” a deep gravelly voice replies, startling her enough that she quickly scurries away from you

The creature that controls you takes this opportunity to rise to your feet then, and to everyone's shock you're now at least 3 feet taller than you were before. Your broader now too and your arms and legs have more muscle

“Jesus…” Steve breathes out, finally having freed himself from Nats bite

You take a step forward and Tony does the same, “Woah there, uh, big guy. We need our friend back”

You tilt your head slightly before answering, “No”

“We weren’t asking” Steve says, moving his shield in front of him as he walks towards you, “Don’t make us do this the hard way”

A dark chuckle leaves you, and it's so unlike you that it has a chill running down the Redheads spine. She feels every muscle in her tense as Steve steps up to you, and she knows this isn’t about to go well

“Just let her go. No one has to get hurt”

“Thats no fun” you respond

Steve raises his shield as if he's about to charge you with it but before he can you raise your arm. A long tendril of goo springs out of you and slams into him so fast that even his enhanced abilities couldn’t help him avoid it. He goes flying to the back of the room, crashing into desks and computers as he goes.

Tony immediately takes flight, hovering just a few feet off the ground as he aims his repulsors at you, “Hard way it is”

“Tony, wait!” Nat pleads. She knows you're still in there, and she doesn’t want you hurt, especially when she has no idea what this thing may have already done to you

But Tony doesn’t listen, instead he blasts at you a few times. Each one hit you and you stumble back slightly, but aside from some small dent in the substance covering you that then easily fix themselves, theses no damage done

“Ah, shit”

You quickly move your arm towards him, sending a whip like tendril his way. It slams into his midsection and has him colliding with a wall. He fires a few more blasts at you but they do just as much good as his first ones had. You turn to him, and he watches in awe as your left fist morphs into some kind of blade. But before you can use it, Caps shield collides with you and sends you backwards

“Steve!” Nat stresses, still worried about the you inside, but he ignores her and catches his shield

Before you can stand he rushes you and the metal collides with you once more. A deep and foreboding growl leaves you as your hands grab the edge of the annoying round disk, and you push back with a strength Steve wasn’t expecting. True, you were a supersoldier just like he was, but you had come along decades later and the formula used was nowhere near as potent.

Put kindly, you were strong and a force to be reckoned with, but you still paled compared to Steve. When the two of you sparred, you could keep up, but his hits were always harder and he could always lift more than you at the bench press. But now, you were starting to push so hard that he could feel the treads of his boots starting to slip. Whatever this thing was, it enhanced you in more ways than just tendrils and goop weapons.

“Tony! What the hell is this thing?!”

“I don’t know yet! JARVIS is still running scans!” he replies, moving out of the way of one of your tendrils

Natasha watches on, torn on what to do or how to help. Whatever this thing is, she wants it off of you, now. But even if fighting you is the only way to help, she doesn't want to hurt you and so she hesitates to get involved. Her hands have only ever brought harm to others, but when she fell for you she vowed that her hands would only ever be kind to you. She’d only ever touch you in tender ways, with love and care, and so now she's very conflicted. But when a tendril wraps around Tony's leg while another hits Steve hard enough to send him and his shield sprawling she knows she has to get involved.

She takes a step forward and lets loose a widow's bite. It lodges itself in your shoulder and she expects you to act like Steve had earlier. Instead the goo near your shoulder twitches only slightly and your gaze snaps to her. A large tooth filled grin spreads across its face and it slams Tony into the ground before sending a tendril her way.

This causes your consciousness to finally stir from within, “No!”

But she had easily dodged the tendril and sent another widow's bite your way. The creature ignores you and her bite and as it steps closer to her its hand shifts into a blade once more. It lets out a growl as it rushes at her and you struggle to regain control as she does her best to parry and dodge

“Don’t hurt her!”

The creature only hisses in response, but to your surprise it does take a step back as if contemplating how to disengage. It doesn’t get the chance however, as Steve and his shield slam into you once more. The hit breaks its concentration and Tony is able to free himself from your tendrils grasp. He sits up in time to watch Steve block a hit from your bladed appendage

“Got any ideas?” he asks, feeling like he's in a losing battle, and so were you

“Yeah” Steve grunts, “Keep hitting it”

“Right, because I hadn’t thought of that”

Just as he says that the creature overpowers Steve and rips the shield from his grasp. There's a collective moment of shock and silence before the creature slams Steve with his own shield. At first the heroes aren't too worried, he's taken hits before, but then you're slamming it into him again and he's stumbling backwards, blood dripping from his nose

“Steve!” Both Tony and Nat shout as they move in to attempt to help. The creature sends a spiked tendril out in both directions to keep them busy as it slams Steve again

“Not as strong as you think” it seethes, fueled of the slight jealousy it can feel in your subconscious

You had to admit, watching this thing use your body to one up Steve when you know how cocky and confident he can be, did feel good. And while that should, and would normally have you feeling guilty, you find there's no such emotion now. You only feel

With another hit Steve falls to his knees and afraid for his friend's life Tony makes a beeline away from your diversion and straight for you. This creature is smarter and faster than it would seem however and before he can reach you it flings Caps shield at him. It hits him square in the helmet sending the shield bouncing off to embed into the wall as he sways of course and hits the ground hard.

“Tony!?” Nat shouts as she runs over to check on him. She turns him on his back but gets no movement from the suit of armor, “Hey, come on Stark”

While she does her best to pry his faceplate off one of your large hands grabs Steve's shoulder and lifts him up to be eye level with you, “Who's the better model now?”

His eyes widen as he realizes at least part of you is still in there and conscious, but before he can say or do anything your fist is meeting his face. One solid punch after a shield beating is all it takes to knock him out cold, and you release him to fall to the ground with a thump

Nats attention snaps away from the billionaire and over to the soldier, “Steve?!”

A growl rumbles in your chest as you turn your attention solely to her, and for the first time in a long time, Natasha feels afraid. She has no idea if you’ve just killed her two friends, and she has no idea if the Y/n she knows and loves is even alive anymore within the creature that's done it. And now she's alone here with it. But she has no intention of allowing this creature to see her fear. So she stands and steps away from where Tony lays and readies herself.

But you can read her, you always could, and you can see she's afraid, “Just leave her alone. She isn’t a threat.”

The creature ignores you again however and rushes at her, dodging the kick she throws your way and the widow's bite before grabbing the hand that throws a punch. She stumbles slightly but tries one last time to hit you with her free hand. You catch it as well however and let out a dark chuckle

“No! Let her go!” you demand, doing your best to fight it

“Relax” it whispers to you, “We will not harm her. She is yours”

“What?” you ask, clearly confused and when you look back you find Natasha is now pinned to the wall, both of her hands held above her head in one of your massive ones

“I am attuned to you as I am now part of you. I see what you feel, and I see your inability to act on it. It's sad, pathetic even”

“Hey!”

“But I am here now. You have me. And together we can take what you want, and you want her.”

“What? No. I…I don’t…” you stammer trying to deny how badly you want the redhead. If you ever were to have her you didn’t want some weird sludge to be the driving force behind it

“You want to ruin her for anyone else so she can be yours, always.”

You want to deny these thoughts, but you can’t. It seems that in your connection the creature now has access to things you’d rather no one have access to. Thoughts, feelings, desires….it knows them all. And it's willing to help you. But doing it this way, this was wrong. Natasha deserved to be treated right, not fucked in some lab up against the wall against her will by some weird creature using your body

As you mull it over she squirms in your grasp and looks deep into the soulless eyes, “Please, I didn’t want to hurt you. I…I just want Y/n back”

“She is here” it answers, “And she is unharmed”

She watches as half its face peels away to reveal yours. She can see you aren’t fully with it as your eye is glazed over and you have no reaction to seeing her, but she is elated to see your face once more and to see that you appear to have no injuries, externally at least.

“She's okay?”

“She is. She merely slumbers while I have control”

Nat swallows the lump in her throat as your face is hidden away from her once more, “When will she have control again?”

“When we are done with you” it answers, making a chill run through her, and she's not too sure she wants to know what exactly that means

“What? No. I didn’t agree to this. I don’t want this”

“But you do”

“No. Not like this” you stress, “I want her to want it too. To enjoy it as much as I do”

“She wants it. I can feel it.” it replies, “And she will learn to enjoy it, as will you”

“No! Wait!” but the creature is done listening

Instead it leans down and gets closer to Nat's face, “My host cares for you. Deeply.”

She stares at the creature a bit lost on what this has to do with anything, but elated to find out her feelings are returned, “She does?”

“Yes. I can feel it. I can see everything she wants to do with you, everything she wants to do to you” it explains, “We are going to make you feel so good”

Oh. Oh no. As much as she wanted you, this isn’t how she wanted things to happen. She wanted you, not some life form that's using you as a puppet. And she wanted it only after having a discussion with you about her feelings. She also wanted it in a bed, not up against a wall in an old AIM lab where two of her teammates and friends lay either unconscious or dead

It wraps a tendril sound each of her ankles and pulls her legs apart. She lets out a gasp, “Wait, please”

“Relax. Y/n is here” it coos, “We will not hurt you. She wants this. She wants to take care of you.”

She liked that idea, as long as it truly was what you wanted. But that's the thing, she couldn’t be sure. For all she knew this thing had drained you of your life and was just toying with her now. She had no proof you were even alive let alone reciprocating her feelings

“She wants to make you hers, completely” it tells her, bringing its free hand to brush hair from her face, “She wants to love you, and to ruin you”

An involuntary whimper leaves Natasha, and she does her best to look away from the creature. But it uses its hand to gently grab her chin and lift her gaze back up

“You want that too, don’t you?”

“I…I...” Nat stammers, trying to think straight, “Not like this”

“No?” it questions, watching in amusement as she shakes her head and takes a deep breath to calm herself, “I’m not so sure”

It lowers its head to the nape of her neck and starts to place gentle kisses against her flushed skin. She wiggles a bit in its hold but despite herself she moves her head away to give it more access. It takes advantage of this and begins to give more kisses, messier ones, and it brings its free hand to possessively grab her hip. She does her best to stifle another whimper and she prays the creature doesn’t notice how her heartbeat quickens. It proves it does however when it immediately lets its tongue run over her pulsepoint

“See?” it whispers to her, “You like this, and you want more”

She's not sure if it's the creature or you that's able to read her right now, but she really hopes it's you. Afterall, you've always been able to see past her walls and decipher her true emotions. So why would now be any different

“I…I want Y/n”

“I want you too, Tasha” your voice finally replies, causing a relieved smile to break out across her face.

She was worried she’d never hear your voice again let alone hear you admit that. And if it was anyone other than you in there, there's no way she’d allow herself to be in this position. She would have fought back by now, freed herself and killed whatever asshole had tried doing it. But it is you, and now that she knows that for certain, she finds herself willing to give in despite the circumstances

“You're in there, right? And you have some control?” she asks. If this was going to happen here and now, which apparently it was, she at least needed to know you were present

“I am, and I do now” you reply as the creature still kisses her neck

She lets out a low hum of approval, “Okay”

The creature takes this as its queue and it swiftly replaces the hand holding hers with a tendril and pulls its head from her neck in order to get a better view. Its now free hand grabs her suit's zipper and slowly begins to pull it down, showing off her bra clad chest and abs. Its tongue lulls out at the sight, and you're both overcome by the urge to see more of her. Your hand easily tears her bra from her body, showing off her now hardening nipples to you, and to Nats embarrassment she can feel arousal pooling in her belly at the show of strength.

“So beautiful” you whisper as the creatures hands begin to palm her tits, “And all ours”

A moan slips past her lips at the possessive growl and her cheeks heat up as she replies, “Yes, all yours”

You surge forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that takes her breath away, and she eagerly opens her mouth to the creature's probing tongue. Your one hand moves to grope her ass while the other slowly moves down to the waistband of her underwear. She moans into its mouth and momentarily forgets her hands are bound as she reaches out for you.

You let out a throaty chuckle as you break the kiss, “Poor thing, so needy”

“Detka(baby), please” she whines, the feeling of your fingers so close to where she wants you is almost too much for her, “I need you”

“Aww don’t worry” you coo, “We’ll take good care of you”

Just then your hand slides past her waistband and into her underwear, and she moans as your long digits tease her folds. A pleased sound rumbles in your chest as you feel just how wet she is, and she squirms in anticipation as your thumb begins to rub her clit

“Please” she begs, doing her best to thrust her hips forward. An almost sinister smile spreads across your face then, and without warning you slip a finger inside her and begin to thrust, “Oh god!”

“Such pretty sounds” you whisper, letting your other hand move back up from her ass and to her tits once more. You squeeze her plump mounds and watch the way her face contorts in pleasure at your movements, “Doing so good for us”

She moans again and her walls clench down on your finger just as you find the perfect spot inside her, “Fuck! Right there! Please!”

“What are you begging for, pretty girl?” you tease, increasing the speed of your thrusts

“You…I…oh god, please” she stutters, feeling the coil in her belly beginning to tighten, “Please, I’m so close”

“Already?” you tease again

“Yes!” She nods, blushing even harder than before, “You feel so good, please!”

“Go ahead Tasha, cum for us”

She does as she's told and cums hard, shuddering in your hold as you continue to fuck her through her orgasm. This proves to be a tough task however, due to the way her pussy tightly spasms around you. After a few more thrusts her whimpers tell you that she's become sensitive so you gently pull yourself from her. You make a show of bringing your finger to your mouth and cleaning it off with your large tongue

You moan at her taste, “You taste so good”

“Fuck” she groans, obviously haveing been affected by it

You grip her hips possessively as you lean in for another kiss, and Natasha can feel herself getting worked up once more as your large tongue invades her mouth. The kiss quickly becomes a heated makeout session as you grope and paw at her ass, and she's honestly starting to get lightheaded. That's when she feels something that isn’t a hand enter her underwear and her eyes snap open

“We aren't done with you yet”

“Oh fuck” she whimpers, both turned on and worried by the girth of the tendril that prods at her entrance

“Don’t worry, you can take it” you tell her, as if reading her mind, “And you’ll love how it feels”

“Oh! Y/n!” she moans as the tendril spreads her open and slides in, reaching even deeper inside her than her finger had, “Feels good! So good!”

“Knew you’d like it” you reply, letting your tongue travel up between the valley of her breasts as the tendril starts to thrust even faster, “My host likes it too. My connection to her lets her feel everything as if it was her inside you”

Upon hearing that Nat moans loudly, and her pussy clenches down around the tendril hard, making you moan as well, “Fuck Tasha”

“Don’t stop detka(baby), please don’t stop”

“Not gonna” you reply, grunting at the feeling of her throbbing around you. You can feel your own climax quickly building, “I want you to cum with me”

“Yes! Fuck!” she pants,

“Cum, now” the creature's voice commands, and just like that both you and Natasha fall head first into your orgasms.

Her eyes roll back and her mouth hangs open as pleasure like she's never felt before washes over her, and you both let out a series of moans as the tendril continues to slowly move inside her. In that moment all she can focus on is how incredible this was, and how she loved getting to share this moment with you. Even if she was sharing the moment with whatever this thing was

Speaking of, it leans down to kiss her once more and she of course returns its affection, squirming slightly as the tendril pulls out of her. As the kiss continues she feels the ones around her legs and hands lower her down and release her so she eagerly wraps her arms around you. And that's when she realizes it's your form again, not the creatures and it's your lips against hers now.

She sighs and practically throws herself at you, “You're back”

“Technically, I was never gone” you joke, trying to make light of everything, “Just like he's not gone now, just resting”

“You're okay though, right?”

You nod, “Yeah Tasha, I’m fine. Are you?”

You pull back from her slightly to look over her disheveled appearance only to blush when you realize her suit is still unzipped. You quickly move to help cover her back up and she lets out a chuckle

“I’m fine, better than fine actually” she admits, blushing again

“Told you she wanted it”

You ignore him and share a smile with the woman infront of you before a groan pulls you both from your little bubble, “Oh my god, the guys!”

You pull apart to see Tony sitting up and opening up his faceplate to rub his forehead, while Steve shifts around, “Ugh, what happened?”

“Y/n hit us like a truck” Tony replies before remembering your state, he looks over to Nat and is surprised to see your back to normal, “Wait, what?”

“Long story” you tell him with a sheepish smile, “Lets just say, Natasha tamed the beast”

“I am not a beast!”

“Oh hush”

The Russian cheeks heat up again and she elbows you, “Yeah, you're welcome. Now can we get her home and run tests?”

“Uh yeah…yeah. Just give me a minute…or twelve” he responds, walking over to Steve who has yet to sit up still before slumping down to the ground beside him

“Babies”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @aeroae @sashawalker2

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #marvel #fanfic #marvel fanfiction

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realmsdelght · 3 months ago

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A silver haired girl; Jacaerys Velaryon

Jacaerys Velaryon x twin!reader Summary: a visit to a brothel leads to sharing feelings that had been buried deeply within the twins Note: italics are high valyrian. All of a sudden I found myself simping over my boy Jace and I don't think I can ever go back Warning: none, she's just a cute little drabble Word count: 866

The hour of the wolf was almost at its end when Prince Jacaerys returned to the Keep. He walked quietly through the halls after biding his stepfather good night, after a very loud and busy night, all he wished for was the quiet comfort of his own chambers. Once inside his chambers, he was met with a familiar figure lying on his bed.

“How was your night?” His twin asked, not taking her eyes away from the carved dragons on the ceiling.

“It was… eventful,” the prince said as he stripped from his doublet, throwing it on the chair.

The princess pushed herself up to her elbows, watching as her brother removed his boots. “Eventfull?” She questioned, “You are aware that we all know where Daemon took you.”

Now, stripped to his comfortable clothes, the prince climbed onto his bed, lying down next to his sister. “It was interesting. I saw many different things and positions,” both siblings giggled at his remark. The twins stared at the ceiling, the silence between them was not uncomfortable, but both knew there were things they wished to say to each other. “But I did not do anything,” he tried to assure her, “I believe this visit was just to make acquaintances.” The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Jacaerys decided to get his sister’s attention again, “did you know that there are women that dye their hair to look like Targaryens?”

“I would imagine so,” her eyes traced the largest carved dragon.

“How so?” Jace was not an innocent child anymore, he knew the Targaryens’ Valyrian features were attractive, especially for the common people, but he did not imagine the people’s fascination with them went that far.

“I simply see the way men look at me, Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena. So I would imagine they would pay women to satisfy their fantasies,” she told her brother, who seemed disgusted by what she had just told him, “what is it?”

“I know people look at you, how could they not, you are beautiful. But it did not notice men would stare at you like that,” the princes felt guilty he never noticed how men acted towards his sister.

“Men are men Jace, they lustfull gaze does nothing but disgust me. And you didn’t notice because women don’t stare at men like men stare are us,” she hoped to ease the guilt she knew her brother was feeling, “you were probably only stared at like that today, I would imagine the girls at the brothel were very pleased to see you.”

The prince scoffed, “I do not have the Targaryen features people are fascinated by.” Out of Rhaenyra’s eldest children, Jacaerys’ twin was the only one who had silver hair and lighter eyes, and she knew it bothered her brother sometimes.

His sister turned to her side so she could face him, but his eyes did not leave the carved ceiling, “your eyes and eyes may be dark, but your face is that of a Targaryen,” at that, the prince shook his head, he did not wish for his sister’s pity. “You may deny it, but you look exactly like Mother, more than any of us do,” she pointed out. “So,” a mischievous smile appeared on her face, “which ones do you prefer, the silver or dark haired ones?”

At her question, she could see her brother’s cheeks burn a bright red, “sister! That is inappropriate,” his eyes remained on the ceiling, afraid to look at her.

“Why? We are twins, we should know each other’s preferences,” oh how she enjoyed teasing her brother, “I will tell you what I prefer.”

“Sister!” The prince turned on his side, his eyes finally meeting his twin’s.

She looked into his eyes as she spoke, “I prefer the dark haired ones.”

Jacaerys whispered her name as he moved closer to her, “we must not say things like that,” his forehead now touched her, “you are betrothed to our uncle,” her reminded his sister.

“And our uncle has dull silver hair,” she whispered in Valyrian, their preferred language when it came to secrets, “it is not fair that everyone does what they please and we hold back,” she reached over, taking his hand into hers.

“I do not wish to sully your honor,” he explained. His sister was now so close he could feel her breathing, “I love you too much to do that.”

“Jace,” she spoke softly, “I would like for you to sully my honor, please.”

The Prince’s hands went to his sister’s cheeks, pulling her into a deep kiss. The two Velaryons had yearned for each other and that kiss for so long, that they both got lost in the affection. The kiss was filled with longing and want, and as they deepened the kiss they held each other as if their life depended on it. The princess had never felt so loved as she did in that moment with her twin, Jace held her tight as the years of yearning spilled into one moment.

Once they pulled away to catch their breath Jacaerys opened his eyes, caressing his sister’s cheek, “I prefer one silver haired girl in particular.”

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jace velaryon #hotd x reader #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys x fem!reader #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic

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midnightmoonkiss · 2 years ago

Text

Language Of Love

AlHaitham X GN! Reader

“‘Italics’” = he’s speaking another language

“So.. you can speak 20 languages?”

A random conversation.

It was easy to guess how you got to this point, boredom.

Spending time with your.. acquaintance, who you may or may not have a crush on, wasn’t on your agenda today, but here you are - sitting on a chair in his office as he effortlessly scribbles down sophisticated words onto parchment.

The sound was certainly pleasing to the ears, skrch sccrch sckrch.

You had no clue what he was doing. Oh, the duty of a scribe..

Or why you even came here..

No.

You knew why you came here, to spend time with him, as a friend only. Or maybe you were less than friends. It was hard putting a label on things when it came to the emotionally stunted AlHaitham. He was almost as bad as the General Mahamatra.

You just forgot how boring spending time with him can be if he’s busy working, thus leading you to flip through one of the many books on his bookshelf.

Yeah, you quickly got bored of that too.

These weren’t story books, they were informative books. You suppose to a man like him who enjoyed learning, this was like being surrounded by candy. To you? Its like being surrounded by encyclopedias.

He probably reads encyclopedias for fun.

So here you were, starting a conversation on a little fact you heard an academia student mutter like it was a piece of gossip even though it was probably outlined somewhere.

“Yes,” The scratching of quill to paper continues even as he glances up at you for a split second, “It’s important for scholars to broaden their knowledge and fluency of languages as to not hinder important research that may be written in a different dialect.”

All of Teyvat spoke the same language, it was easy to wonder why everyone from ancient times suddenly decided to switch. Of course you wouldn’t ask him such a thing, not right now anyway.

You had a plan.

A plan to woo this man.

The many failed attempts before can not hinder you.

Smugly, you said to him, “I bet I know one language you can’t speak.”

Oh, you were already giddy.

Curiosity peaked, his scribbling halted, eyes on you, “Is that so?�� He was eager to hear you answer.

Whether you were toying with him, or genuinely knew a language he could add to his list, he was willing to listen.

“Do tell.”

Clearing your throat, you sat up straight and gave him a cocky smile, “The language of love.”

You were met with silence, as expected.

He was starstruck, surely. In awe. Was he wooed?

You could easily speak up with the punchline after his response, oh!! You would say, ‘but I can teach you!!’

Oh, he’s about to respond! He’s-!

“You must be referring to the ancient Fontaine language used by higher class citizens, commonly known to scholars as the language of love due to how words would ‘roll off the tongue like silk’ when speaking it.“

–an idiot? You were gobsmacked.

And he was smirking on the inside.

“I’m surprised you know of this language, you must have learned something from one of the books you’ve flipped through in the library.”

“That’s not,”

“I can even demonstrate it for you.”

“Wait!”

You began to fluster as he indeed began speaking a language completely foreign to your ears.

He was right, the words did flow silkily. This did not make you feel any better. Your pickup line failed miserably.

“‘You are so adorable, trying to trick me like this.’”

You can’t help but pout, wondering just what he was saying.

“‘Look at you, cheeks flushed and puffed like a fish. Honestly, how am I supposed to work efficiently if you’re here distracting me.’”

“Aw come on,” You began to complain, frowning at the gloating male, “I can’t understand you, y’know.”

“‘I do wonder if you’re aware that I know you like me, you wear your heart on your sleeves, my dear,’” he smiles ever so slightly, which completely unnerves you, “‘I like you too.’”

His cheek rests on his knuckles as he leans back and observes your frustration. Oh, how happy he was you brought this up. Any chance to show off his ability and confess without you knowing is always a good opportunity.

He’d shower you in compliments and confessions in all 20 languages if he had the time, perhaps even spill secrets to your unknowing ears.

Oh, how he would like that. He could say his deepest, darkest desires and you’d only look at him with confusion.. maybe even annoyance.

The thought pleased the busy scholar.

“That’s so mean you know, am I supposed to look up your words in a dictionary or something?”

“Oh, they wouldn’t be in a dictionary.” He reaches forward and tugs at your cheek, elation swirling in his broad chest as you whine and swat at his large arm.

“Should you remind me at a later date,” when he’s finally made you his, of course, “I’ll happily tell you what I said.”

“How about right now.”

“It is not a later date, only the time has changed.” Breathing out a sigh, faking annoyance, he turns his attention back to his paperwork, picking back up his quill.

“Ok, so I can ask you tomorrow.”

“You can, however, I’m under no obligation to tell you until I want to.”

“I dislike you very much, Scribe.” You grumbled, settling back in your seat.

He chuckles to himself, “I’m sure you do, ‘sweetheart.’”

#alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #x reader #gn! reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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residenthughes · 9 months ago

Text

opera house - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x afab reader

word count: 2.5k

tags/warnings: +18 nsfw, so minors dni, oral sex (m on f), dirty talk (if you can call it that?), no mention of y/n, pet names (baby, princess)

summary: reading is your favourite pastime. jack makes it harder than anticipated.

notes: so...🫣 this happened. it's a small little thing that started out with me just wanting to write about how pretty jack is only to turn into the respectful pile of filth. don't write smut much so apologies if this isn't to your liking, but hopefully i'll be back with something better. also, the sentence in italics is a quote from the book mentioned in the fic. much love! <3

As the cold November climate nips at your flesh and colours the sky in hues of grey, you nestle in the cosiness of your home, warm and sheltered with your treasured fuzzy socks on as you curl up on your bed with one of the books you’ve been meaning to read. Jack says it’s a bad habit of yours: buying books that collect dust on your shelf, to which you quickly argue that he’s the one enabling your ‘bad habit’ by constantly buying them for you - your Goodreads profile bookmarked in his phone for safe keeping. An endearing act of service, all of which he is no stranger to - gifting said books in the form of a bouquet every time he leaves for a long road trip, taking out the trash because he knows it’s your least favourite chore, curling up with you now, sweetly bundled in between your legs as you two find peace in the silence you share. It’s like a warm hot chocolate on a chilly day like today, your connection smooth and comforting, wrapping you in the warmth of its embrace.

You peer beyond the top of your book, catching an eyeful of the back of Jack’s head and his loose curls, the soft clicks of his gamer control sounding as his eyes focus on the TV screen a few metres ahead. Your sugary thoughts of how endearing your long-term boyfriend can be - always is - overflow like lava, the smile on your face terribly enamoured as your fingers card through his hair, curling the soft locks around your index finger.

Like clockwork, Jack leans into your touch, slouching further into his position in between your thighs, laying a chilly cheek against the flesh of your thighs.

You squirm against the brush of his eyelashes against your skin. “That tickles.”

“Uh huh,” he absently answers, tapping away at his gamer control. “Does this?”

A delicate kiss marks you, Jack’s head going back to laying against your thigh as he directs his attention to the game set out against the TV.

“No,” you blush. “But, that was nice.”

A huff of amusement sounds from Jack and instantly, you know what position you've put yourself in by saying that. “Bet it was. Aren’t you busy with that book of yours?”

You bite back, the muscles of your thighs tightening their grip around your boyfriend. “Sometimes a distraction is necessary.”

The clicks of his gamer control halt and silence envelopes the room, your eyebrow raised as his on-screen character dies as a result of his negligence.

Jack clears his throat, his body shuffling against yours as he readjusts his position, restarting the game. “Maybe you’re right about that, baby.”

A pout remains settled against your lips as your eyes squint at your partner, your suspicion towards his action not enough to distract you from the habitual motion of your fingers as they thread through Jack’s hair. You raise your opened book back to eye-level, not batting an eyelash.

It’s when you’ve gotten perhaps three sentences into your book that Jack breaks the silence. “What’s the story about?”

“The book I’m currently reading?” Jack hums in reply. “Oh, it’s a spinoff of a series I’ve been meaning to read. It’s basically a college romance story about a girl aspiring to be on the national ice hockey team and her getting help from this guy she met years ago, called Ryder. Unexpectedly smutty, 10/10 would recommend.”

Jack laughs with you at your nasty comment, body vibrating against yours as his chuckle courses through him. You lower your book again.

“You and your smutty books,” Jack snickers to himself, eyes trained ahead of him. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “In what ways is it unexpectedly smutty?”

Despite how long you’ve been with Jack and the comfort you've established living alongside him, the question does make you a bit flustered, crimsoning as you look away, avoiding any view of him. “Well, it’s pretty raunchy up front. Like how they’ve done some naughty things in the shower - quite tame, but I’ve also just read that Ryder did some things when they went to go see the opera.”

“What things?” Jack asks, point blank.

Now, it’s time for you to clear your throat. Cheeks tinted. “Do I even have to say, Jack?”

The pause screen displays itself against the TV, the clicks of his controller no more as Jack shifts once again within your grasp, body turning as he lays his stomach against the comfort of the mattress, pools of azure staring into yours. Your heart thuds in your chest.

“Yes, I wanna hear what things you’re reading,” he says easily as if he isn’t inciting violence in your chest right now, the corner of his pink lips curved softly as he tilts his head against your thigh. “All of it.”

Suddenly, the temperature in the room escalates from toasty warm to scorching hot, a familiar flame in the pits of your stomach igniting as you’ve somehow found yourself in such a predicament - backed into a corner and at a loss for words.

“He,” you stammer, averting your eyes because all Jack’s eyes do is look at you, his burning gaze elevating the heat that dances against the surface of your cheeks. “He fingers her in the opera.”

You whisper that last part but Jack hears you judging by the faint chuckle coming from him. “He fingers who at the opera?”

He accents his point with a kiss against your thigh, this time the gesture conjuring a polar opposite sensation as goosebumps riddle your skin. You let out a shaky breath you hadn’t known you were holding, looking again at your partner to still find him looking right back at you, eyelids heavy and eyes dark. You have to look away.

You gulp. “Gigi - her name is Gigi.”

You finally muster some sort of courage you’ve had to find within your situation when you hear Jack shift again, eyes capturing your boyfriend’s arms coming up to circle around your thighs, eyes never leaving yours as his hands find purchase against your skin, thumbs absently caressing the surface much like you did earlier with his hair.

“Is that short for something?” Jack accents his question with another kiss, his touch searing.

“No,” you gulp, voice foolishly unsteady as your eyes study Jack’s movements with caution. “I mean, Ryder jokes that her name is Gisele, but that’s-”

“Guys like to tease,” he kisses a little higher against your thigh as if to prove his point. “Especially with girls they like.”

“I don’t think that’s appreciated, Jack.”

You’re talking about a completely different thing now - a conversation within a conversation.

“I don’t know about that, baby,” whilst still staring at you, his teeth manage to nip at a small sliver of your skin, numbness plaguing your limbs. “Read it to me.”

Your brows knit together, puzzled as ever. “What?”

“You heard me,” declares Jack, his kisses abundantly littering the expanse of your thigh as your mind begins to spiral. “Read it to me.”

Your mind is frazzled, brain working overtime to comprehend the sudden turn of events, all the while Jack takes it upon himself to sit pretty in between your legs and touch you as if made from porcelain - delicate and tender, a sharp contrast to the emotions bathing you in lust. Jack glances up at you one more time, button nose nuzzling against your inner thigh as he gives you a knowing look, his lips preoccupied. You obey wordlessly, uneasy eyes still on him as you bring your book back upwards, its previous position altered so you can manage to steal a look at Jack out of your peripheral.

Out loud, you begin to read to him the aftermath of the opera scene, a more tame development following as you manage to get through the next page unscathed. Jack’s kisses at first, are a bit distracting and have your voice betray you, but they’re sporadic and by the time you’ve turned the page, you’re already used to the sensation. You even achieve some comfort in his touch, but that doesn’t last long because when you’re in the midst of your storytelling, you feel Jack’s fingers hook around your shorts’ waistband.

Immediately, you lower your book, a chill running down your spine. “What are you doing?”

He bats his long eyelashes, almost mockingly. “Listening to you.”

“Jack.” For once, your tone is firm, watching aimlessly as he inches the material past your hip bones.

“Lift your hips a little or I won’t be able to get these off you,” he insists, a convincing smile settled amongst his charming features that express his pleasure in this all. “Unless you wanna keep them on?”

It’s a rhetorical question, a trap set up to see if you’ll bite and despite it all, the excitement of what’s to come leads you right where Jack wants you. Lifting your hips with an embarrassing ache in between your legs as you lie in anticipation, continuing on with your reading as Jack goes back to teasing you endlessly.

“Gettin’ pretty worked up over this story, huh?” echoes Jack. “I can tell.”

To demonstrate the meaning of his words, he blows a cool breeze against you that makes you mewl and draw your thighs closer at the sensation. Heart thudding against your chest, your bewildered gaze gravitates back to Jack who kisses you through the fabric of your underwear and has you fumbling for words.

“I didn’t say you could stop reading,” Jack removes his lips, peering up at you with a look that melts you into a pathetic pool of yourself. “You stop, I stop. Sound fair?”

That sounds anything but fair, but who are you to say so? He clearly holds all the power in this situation, you dancing right in the palm of his hand. This has escalated beyond a point of no return and you’re not backing out now so you oblige, opening your mouth to read but uttering out nothing more than a moan as Jack pulls your underwear to the side, his fingers gliding through your wet folds.

“So satisfying to tease you when your reactions are this good,” he rasps, followed by a low chuckle as his calloused fingertip circles around your clit, eliciting the buck of your hips and the waiver in your voice. “Anyways, you were saying?”

You’re grasping for straws here, trying to tie yourself down to the little sanity (and patience) you have as your frantic eyes try and find where you last left off, straying away every couple of words as Jack does nothing more than use his fingers to distract you.

“Words, baby. Use your words,” he instructs, and it’s the sexist thing you’ve ever heard in your entire life. “We follow...”

“We follow..the people,” you falter, voice wobbly. “We follow the people in…”

Somewhere in that sentence, a hefty exhale blows past your mouth as Jack moves two fingers into you, the curl of them accentuating the end of your sentence with a moan.

“Always sound so pretty with my fingers in you,” muses Jack, tone low and memorised as he works said fingers in and out of you, your slick building all around his fingers. “Can’t get enough of it.”

You do a subpar job of reading the next few lines as Jack’s fingers pick up the pace, moving deeper in you to milk every reaction you give him mixed in with your slurred words. Your attempt at remaining coherent diminishes completely when Jack’s lips find their way to your swollen clit, a light press of the lips against the hood of your clit before he’s sucking on the bud.

Your words come out in stutters, voice trembling pathetically as he wraps you around his fingers, making a mess of you in the form of kitten licks against your clit and nibble fingers coaxing your building orgasm out of you. His motions stop every time you get lost in the feeling of him sucking your clit, fingers tangled in his locks of hair. And with a whine, you compel with his previous instructions, reading along with the world’s prettiest distraction in between your legs.

Somehow, you make it to the next page without much delay, Jack’s mouth trained on you as he laps up every bit of you, tongue drawing all kinds of figures against or around your clit. You’re clenching around his fingers more than you can forgive yourself for, body running hot as the sounds of your slick echo throughout the room, the pit in your stomach only growing.

“Just like that, princess,” he hums against your clit, the sensation drawing a tight-lipped whimper from you as your hips follow the vibration. “How many more pages until the chapter’s finished? I don’t think you’re gonna last long.”

And, it’s all true. Body twitching, toes curling and cunt spasming around his fingers that curl in you. Your brain can barely keep up at this point. “So many.”

Jack tsks, his thumb replacing his lips against your clit as he moves it in slow circles. “You think you can hold on till then?”

You answer truthfully, however embarrassing it may be. “No.”

He laughs briefly when he hits that spongy part inside of you, your back bowing off the stacked pillows behind you as Jack continues to hit the exact spot that has you seeing stars.

“How ‘bout a compromise?” Jack starts, your hips lifting to meet the insistent thrust of his fingers. “You tell me how badly you wanna come, and you get to ditch the book whilst I make you come. Sounds good?”

An awfully generous offer considering how your brain has turned to mush and can barely keep up with any of the inked words on the page right now. So, you agree. Enthusiastically.

“Please,” you mewl with a puckered forehead, gazing down at your beautiful boyfriend with his tousled hair and glossy lips. A sight for sore eyes. “Please, J. I wanna come.”

“How bad?” He doesn’t miss a beat, eyes challenge yours.

“So bad,” you keen when his other hand lays over your stomach, applying pressure to the spongy spot that teethers you on the very edge. “Fuck, it’s only you. Only you can…make me feel good. Please, J.”

The begging works. It always works and with that, you drop your book, long discarded amidst the mess of the sheets as your fingers tangle in Jack’s hair as he sucks roughly on your clit again. Rocking up against his mouth, the angle of his fingers renders you completely at his mercy, uttering stuttery breaths as he brings you over the edge, applying pressure in all the right places because he knows your body better than you do, gushing slick flowing from you as you ride out your high, brain reduced to syrup.

He doesn’t even wait before you’ve caught your breath that he sends you a flirtatious wink in between your quivering thighs. “So, opera date next week?”

#jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes one shot #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #smut #nhl smut #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #jack hughes #residenthughes

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jolalibrary · 8 months ago

Text

4. green smoke

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n. an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Friday soon arrives.

It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.

Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.

Pretend is the optimum word.

Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.

Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.

It’s him.

Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.

Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—

Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.

It's difficult not to smile at his message.

Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.

It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.

Excuse me? Rain. Oh, that is such a dad joke. It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile. I will not confirm or deny. So that means it did. Shut up.

Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.

So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table? Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant? Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles. Are you flirting with me when I’m at work? Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work? In my defence, you choose your own hours. Do you mind me flirting with you? Not even a little bit. Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now? Hopefully nothing. I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Still hot. Get back to work, Butterscotch.

You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.

Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.

Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.

The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.

His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.

And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.

“I’m really sorry—“

And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.

“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"

“—Frankie—“

“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”

“—Frankie?”

You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”

The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."

A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.

“Baby… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."

“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.

“Not even a little bit.”

Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."

Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.

You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.

And an idea appears.

It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.

Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.

You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.

Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.

For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.

Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.

“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”

Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”

Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.

“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”

Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.

“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”

Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.

“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”

It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.

“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”

Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”

Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”

He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.

You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.

Turning back to you, he extends a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.

As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.

You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.

"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.

“Careful.”

Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”

“Harold would murder me.”

Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.

“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”

Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”

“Ah.”

Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”

Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”

“Okay.”

His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.

Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”

Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Nodding, he half smiles.

And then he does.

He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.

That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.

Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.

Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.

His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.

“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”

Your heart falls, and descends.

Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.

“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”

“It wasn’t healthy?”

Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”

Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.

“That was probably a lot.”

“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”

Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”

“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”

Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”

“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”

Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”

“Of course.”

Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”

Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”

Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”

Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.”

Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”

Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.

“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”

Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”

“Do you want to… now?”

“Tonight?”

Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.

Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”

The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.

Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.

When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.

It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.

“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”

Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”

You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.

Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.

“What a gentleman.”

“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”

Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.

If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.

If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.

“It’s not a lot…” he begins.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.

As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.

Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.

As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.

“C’mon, let me show you around.”

He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.

Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.

“That where the magic happens?”

“Not usually…”

"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."

You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.

He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”

It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.

When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.

Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."

He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”

“So.”

With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”

Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”

A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.

an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

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kaleldobrev · 1 year ago

Text

Daddy in a Different Way

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: A simple misunderstanding leads an older woman to believe that you and Jack are together, not you and Dean. But Dean does a “very good job” at clearing things up...But maybe not in the best way.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Age Gap, Light Smut, Daddy kink (if you squint)

Authors Note: Takes place in the same universe as Old Man | Flashbacks are in italics | Even though it’s light smut 18+ only please | MDNI | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You grabbed your black leather crossbody handbag from the hook next to the floor length mirror that Dean had installed in your shared room about two months after you had moved in.

“Our room is missing something.” You stated as you rolled onto your side, propping yourself up with your elbow and the palm of your hand.

“Oh yeah?” Dean asked, his eyes were still closed, not yet wanting to fully commit to waking up just yet. “What’s that Princess?”

“Floor length mirror.” Your tone serious.

Dean’s eyes shot open, automatically looking at you. “You’re serious?” He asked, not actually wanting you to answer.

You gave him your ‘of course I’m serious Dean’ face, followed by a simple smile. “It’s one mirror Dean.” You said, as you started to trace your pointer finger on his bare chest. “It’s the least you can do.” You paused, tilting his chin toward you. “I’ll make it worth your while.” You leaned in, barely brushing your bottom lip on his.

“You don’t have to owe me anything Sweetheart. You know I can’t say no to you.” He replied, closing the gap between you and kissed you.

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you heard Dean come into the room. Seeing him come up behind you, you gave me a soft smile. “You look beautiful today, Sunshine.” His compliment genuine. Wrapping his arms around your waist, you placed your hands on his arms, enjoying the embrace that he had around you. His chin found itself on your bare shoulder before he gave your neck a somewhat seductive like kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. “You and sundresses always do it for me. I don’t know why.” The sundress that you were currently wearing in particular happened to be Dean’s favorite on you, even though he loved every single one that you owned. But for some reason, this sage colored one seemed to be one that he gravitated toward the most.

“I think you like the easy access that they give you.” You turned your head toward him, meeting his gaze; your lips inches away from each other, slightly smelling his spearmint toothpaste.

“That’s one of the reasons.” He confessed, gently starting to lift your dress up. He had gotten pretty far, getting to the point where you could see the waistband of your panties – green lace, the same color as your dress. One of Dean’s fingers found its way into the waistband, and your breath hitched, waiting for the contact that you were craving, despite just having sex with him a few hours before. Yours and his lips touched then, the kiss feeling just as needy and desperate as it was a couple hours before. Dean added another finger as he was hovering over your clit.

“Dean…” You moaned, his two fingers finally making contact as they barely dipped inside you.

“Aw Sweetheart, you’re wet ready?” He voice sounded like honey to you in that moment. “Was this morning not enough for you?” He smirked, slightly feeling how hard he already was against your ass.

“Clearly it wasn’t enough for you either handsome.” Your lips curving into a smirk. You started to move your hand behind you now, gently palming the front of his jeans.

“I’m ready to go when you two are.” Jack said, as you were midway through unzipping Dean’s pants. You and Dean froze in place for a moment, feeling yourself tense up around Dean’s fingers.

“Dammit.” Dean said, his voice sounding more frustrated than he probably intended it to be. He removed his fingers along with his embrace around you; your dress falling back into place.

Jack looked between the two of you, confused at Dean’s reaction. All of a sudden, realization hit them. “Oh.” Jack simply said. “You two were in the middle of having sex and I interrupted.”

You turned to face Jack, ready to say something to them, but Dean was the first one to talk. “We…We weren’t having sex Jack but…we were…being…intimate.”

“With the door open?” Jack asked. Their point was valid, but at the same time, you also weren’t expecting Dean to come up behind you and start fingering you.

“You didn’t see anything right?” You asked. Not that you were embarrassed if Jack had seen anything, but you also didn’t feel like explaining every single sexual thing that you and Dean had done right now to them. To your relief, Jack shook their head, indicating that they in fact didn’t see anything that you two had done.

“Does this mean you two are going to have sex when we get back?” Jack asked, very bluntly.

Dean walked over to Jack, placing the hand that he didn’t use on you, and patted Jack’s shoulder. “Oh, you bet we are.” He winked, before walking out of the room, leaving just you and Jack.

The drive to Target went by quickly, the entire drive filled with song after song that you had requested, as you were the only one besides Dean who had any say in the music that was to be listened to or enjoyed in Baby. “You’re the only shotgun that will always have a say.” Dean once told you.

Once Dean parked Baby, the three of you got out and made your way into the store. Getting inside, you grabbed a shopping cart, despite the fact that you knew you probably didn’t need it; but it was just a force of habit that you did each time you walked into the store, much to Dean’s dismay. “Can I push the cart?” Jack asked, a childish type smile on their face.

“Of course.” You gave them a smile back, releasing your hands from the cart so they could start pushing it. You didn’t know why, but you had loved seeing the enjoyment on Jack’s face when you had told them they could push the cart. With everything that has happened over the years, it was nice to see someone get excited over something so simple.

With no use for your hands now, you went to hold the strap of your crossbody. Seeing this, Dean held out one of his hands. “Hold my hand so you don’t get lost.” He teased. You playfully swatted his arm before taking his hand.

“This is so cute.” You said, grabbing a graphic tree from one of the racks and showed it to Jack. “Do you like this? I think it would look nice on you.” The shirt that you held in your hands was a nice mint color and had an array of different succulents.

“While you two do this, I’m gonna go look at the flannels.” Dean pointed to the small variety of mainly red flannels a few feet away.

“Dean, it’s July…in Kansas.” Kansas in July was honestly one of the worst months. It was always over 100 degrees, and the feels like made it 10 degrees warmer than that; and let’s not forget about the humidity: that was the worst part. Whenever you had left the comfortableness of the Bunker, you instantly felt like you were melting, despite the minimal clothing sometimes you left the Bunker in to try and conquer the Kansas heat.

“It’s always flannel season Sweetheart.” Dean smiled before leaving you and Jack in the graphic tee section.

You let out a frustrated sigh. You were happy to at least convince Dean not to wear his usual jacket today, even if he was still wearing Timberlands and jeans. Before you had met him, him along with Sam would tell you how they both wore jackets no matter the weather, and that honestly baffled you. You had no idea how two grown men would willingly wear heavy jackets in summer, let alone summer in Kansas no less. After you had become more of a stable being in his life, and the other boys lives, you had found yourself gently – sometimes aggressively – convincing Dean that maybe wearing a heavy ass leather jacket in 100 degree weather wasn’t the smartest move; that it was okay to wear a t-shirt and shorts. He had worn shorts in the Bunker, but refused to wear them outside; the place that you had told him that he needed to wear them. “I don’t want people staring at my legs.” He told you.

“I don’t believe flannel is a season.” Jack commented, interrupting your train of thought. “It’s a material last time I checked.” You adored Jack’s slight innocence at times like these.

“You would be correct. But, wearing any kind of flannel, despite a heat wave, is a long-standing Winchester tradition.” You held up the shirt again, holding it up against Jack’s body so you could try and imagine what it would look like on them without having to try it on in the store; something you knew Jack would be uncomfortable with doing. “I think you’d look cute in this.” You nodded to yourself and placed the t-shirt in the cart.

“Can I pick something out for you?” Jack asked.

“Sure. Let’s see what you got.” You smiled, both of you turning around to look at the rack.

As Jack looked through the t-shirts trying to find one that they thought you would like, you couldn’t help but look over at Dean who had quite a few flannels draped over his arm that he would be able to add to his ever growing collection; a few even looked to be in your size, something that made you smile. “I think you’d look nice in this one.” Jack said, holding out the black t-shirt for you to see. It was faded black in color and had the logo for one of your favorite bands: The Clash. “A very fine choice Jack.” You smiled.

Jack handed you the shirt and you placed it in the cart. “Can we listen to them when we get home? Or are you and Dean going to have sex?” Jack asked bluntly, but quiet enough so only you would be able to hear the question.

You placed your hand on Jack’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you what, we can listen to them on the drive home. How does that sound?” You smiled, coming up with a compromise that you knew they’d be good with. Jack nodded, liking your compromise.

“Well aren’t you two just the cutest.” An older woman who appeared to be in her mid to late 70s said. At first, you and Jack looked around to see if she was talking about anyone else that was around you, but the two of you were the only ones in sight. Seeing you two looking around, she laughed gently, amused. “Yes, I’m talking about you two.” She walked closer to you. “How long have you cuties been together?”

“Oh, we’re not together.” You stated.

The woman gave you and Jack a rather confused expression, as if she didn’t understand why you had said you two weren’t together. “Oh sweetie, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Trust me,” she leaned in to whisper, so only you could hear her. “I know true love when I see it.” You couldn’t help but give her a wide-eyed expression. “I used to look at my Harold like that.”

“We aren’t together.” You firmly said again. You looked over at Jack who simply just held their hands on the shopping cart, trying their best not to make eye contact with the woman. You knew that they were starting to get uncomfortable. “We get it all the time though.” You stated. Which was true. Whenever you and Jack did things together without Dean, it almost seemed like you and Jack were together given the fact that you two relatively appeared to be the same age, despite you being a few years older than they were. “I’m actually with that handsome man over there.” You directed her attention to Dean, who was currently holding up an interesting looking colored flannel with a disgusted look on his face. You had never seen a man look so disgusted while looking at flannels before.

The older woman turned back to you after looking over at Dean. “Sweetie, there’s no way. He’s old enough to be your father.” Her comment made your heart sink a bit, but it was a comment that you were relatively used to hearing whenever people had seen you and Dean together. You and Dean had a 15 year age gap, and you didn’t particularly look your age at times; it all depended on if you were wearing make-up or not, and the type of clothing you had on at the time.

“He’s not actually.” You firmly stated. “I know it looks like he is but –” You started to say, but the woman seemed to have no interest in your explanation, simply ignoring what you had to say because she seemed too invested in the ‘relationship’ that you and Jack apparently were in, in her eyes.

“How long have you two been together?” She repeated her question. You and Jack looked at each other, their cheeks starting to get a slightly light pink out of embarrassment.

“Again, we aren’t together.” Your voice sounding more firm this time.

In that moment out of your peripheral you noticed Dean starting to make his way back over to the three of you. His once happy expression quickly turned into what seemed like concern. “Everything okay here Sweetheart?” He asked you.

“Oh, everything’s fine dear.” The woman stated, not realizing that he was calling you Sweetheart and not her. She gently took hold of his arm, almost as if she was flirting with him; which you were pretty sure she was. “I was just complimenting your daughter here on how nicely her and her boyfriend looked together.”

Dean looked at the woman’s arm on his before looking at you and Jack for a moment. Dean let out one of the biggest laughs you had heard from him in a while. “What’s so funny?” The older woman asked.

Dean wiped his eyes, as if he had just been cry laughing. “What you just said.” He pointed at you and Jack. “Them two? Now that’s…wow, I needed that laugh today, thank you.” He said. The old woman’s expression grew even more confused than it was before.

“You’re not…her father?” She looked at the three of you, removing her hand finally from his arm.

“Biologically? No. But she does call me daddy sometimes in the bedroom.” He winked at the older woman, his comment making her gasp quietly before she left the three of you alone.

“Dean!” You couldn’t believe what he had just said. Well, you could, but you didn’t think he would say something like that to a woman that just seemed to be a bit too nosy for her own good.

“What?” He asked.

“Y/N, do you really call Dean your father?” Jack asked very seriously. Jack was aware of some of the nicknames that you and Dean had or would call each other. Sweetheart, Hon, Honey, Babe, Baby, Sunshine. But Daddy was a new one for them.

Dean was about to open his mouth to answer Jack, but you quickly covered it with your hand. “We’re not gonna talk about that.” You simply said, sounding just a bit defensive in your response.

Tag List: @roseblue373

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#dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #spn imagine #supernatural imagine #spn one shot #supernatural one shot #reader insert #female reader #spn #supernatural

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selineram3421 · 4 months ago

Text

*is tired*

Courting Pursuit

Part 3

Part 2

Alastor X Deer Reader

Warnings ⚠

⚠ mule deer reader, gender neutral (gn) reader, assuming Alastor is a marsh deer, Spanish translated, cussing, blood, Valentino's dialogue is pink italics in quotation marks, mentions of aphrodisiac(drug), italics= thoughts ⚠

"Where's Gentle Giant?", Angel asked looking around for the tall deer.

"They have a name you know.", Vaggie sighed.

You were not seen at all today by the others and caused some slight worry among some of the group. Of course, Alastor could care less.

"I know but really, where are they? I didn't see 'em this morning."

Husk turned to look at the spider demon with a raised brow.

"They wake up at five in the morning to start breakfast early. You've been wakin' up early?", the cat demon asked.

Angel raised his arms up. "How could I not!? Have you seen them make breakfast? That's a whole meal on its own! Shaking their ass around to the music they put on, half buttoned up shirt, and those leggings.", he crosses his arms. "I didn't get to see shit today! Kitchen was empty!"

"I didn't get my bugs today!", Niffty piped in. "They usually give me bugs that they find in the kitchen after cooking."

The group continued to wonder where you had gone until Charlie came into the lobby with Sir Pentious.

"Oh, I gave them an errand.", the Princess said.

"WHY!?", the arachnid cried out.

"Shut up Angel.", the white haired woman sighed.

"They said they wanted to do something outside, so I offered them to pick up something from a shop. It's not that far.", Charlie reassured.

"Charlie.", the porn star dead panned.

"Yes?", the Princess smiled.

"How long have they been in Hell? I mean out there, not in the hotel."

"Less than a day..."

Everyone is quiet before rushing out of the hotel.

"Damn it Charlie! They might die!", Angel shouts.

"I didn't think it'd be that bad! Oh no no no no no-!", she apologizes as they all run down the road into the city.

Alastor just sighs and follows calmly behind the group.

What a way to start the day..

You were getting groceries for the Princess.

She said that most of the food was gone and with the help of Vaggie, you got a list of the things you needed to get.

At the store, you were a bit confused but you met a nice older woman that helped you learn what the aisle signs said.

"Muchas gracias." (Thank you very much.)

"De nada!", the woman waved her hand. (You're welcome!) "Qué demonio tan atractivo eres." (What an attractive demon you are.)

After paying and carrying all the bags, you made your way through the city and tried to go back to the hotel quickly.

But a tall bug stands in your way once you make it to the entertainment district.

"Ah~ The deer that appeared on the screens.", the tall moth demon smiled wide and approached you. "Valentino is my name and I want you to work for me. A face like yours is well liked among the sinners.", he said and reached out to hold your face.

"No quiero lo que me ofreces.", you quickly moved your head away. (I don't want what you are offering.)

"Ah, pero imagina todo el dinero que ganarás~" (Ah, but imagine all the money you'd be making~), he continued. "Todas las delicias pecaminosas que podrás darte.", his eyes glowed as he circled you like a snake, leaning in close to whisper in your ear. (All the sinful delights you'll get to indulge in.)

You grabbed the moth's face roughly and brought him down to eye level with you.

"I said. I don't want it.", you glared, shoving him away after feeling the groceries shift in your hold. "Adiós. Espero no volver a verte." (Farewell. I hope to never see you again.)

"¿¡Quién te crees que eres!? ¡No puedes darme la espalda!", Valentino hissed out and pulled you back by your arm, making you drop the bag. (Who do you think you are!? You don't get to turn away from me!)

Some of the groceries spilled out onto the street, now no longer edible as blood and grime soiled it.

The moth continued to yell and shout vulgar words, but you just frowned at the loss of food.

"Are you even listening!?", the tall demon shouted in your ear as he tightened his grip on your arm.

"No.", you said and looked at him with a dead stare.

It was the tipping point for him, his anger boiled over and he went to strike you with his hand.

Quickly, you lowered and tilted your head down just a bit before lunging forward. Your antlers stabbed into his chest and blood sprayed onto the top of your head and shoulders.

"¡Pedazo de mierda!", he shouted and grabbed your antlers, slamming you back into a brick wall. (You piece of shit!)

You felt your back sting with pain as he held you in place to remove your antlers from his chest. He managed to kick your stomach, knocking the air out of you. You tried to hit back but he moved out the way.

The moth demon sprayed some pink liquid on you before escaping.

It got in your eyes, making you close them as it felt like burning. The smell was sweet but strong, like a syrup that was too sweet. To the point that it made you feel sick.

After cleaning off the liquid, you salvaged what you could and continued your way back to the hotel.

"Where are they!?", Angel cried out.

The hazbin group returned from their search and met up in the lobby. Sir Pentious was still out with his egg minions.

"I didn't see them anywhere! I went to the grocery stores, checked alleys, and bars! Do you know how many bars there are in Hell!?"

"At least we didn't find a body, so we know they are still alive somewhere.", Vaggie muttered.

"Perhaps they've been eaten!", Alastor smiled cheerfully.

The group looked at him in horror.

Niffty not so much, but she was still upset about not getting bugs.

"That's not-", Charlie started.

"WHAT IF THEY WERE EATEN!?", the spider screeched.

"DAMN IT ANGEL, THEY WEREN'T EATEN!", the white haired woman yelled back.

"BUT WHAT IF THEY WERE!?", Niftty jumped into the conversation, smiling.

"You ain't helping Nift.", Husk grumbled.

"I swear to Satan-!"

"Calm down!"

The others stopped screeching at each other when hearing the entrance door open, all turning their heads to find the mule deer dragging their feet as they walked into the hotel.

Covered in blood, holding a bag of groceries.

"Hola..", they waved with a tired smile.

The spider called their name in relief and rushed over, checking them for injuries.

"Holy shit! What happened to you!?", Angel grabbed their head and brought it down to see their blood soaked antlers. "You've got blood all on top of your head!"

"Estoy bien, estoy bien.", the deer mumbled. (I'm ok, I'm ok.)

"¿Qué mierda paso?", Husk spoke up. (What the fuck happened?)

"Nada demasiado importante.", they gave a small reassuring smile. (Nothing too important.)

"Where are my bugs!", Niftty ran over and tugged on their pants.

"Glad you're ok.", the Princess sighed.

"Yes, yes. We're all glad that they aren't dead.", Alastor says as he walks over. "Now, lets have them cleaned up and well-"

Before the Radio Demon could touch them, the mule deer flinched back.

"Lo siento. No me encuentro bien.", they said and handed the grocery bag over to the spider. (I'm sorry. I don't feel well.) "Voy a descansar en mi habitación. Perdonadme.", they managed to get out before heading upstairs. (I'm going to rest in my room. Pardon me.)

Curious.. He thought as the others dispersed, but then noticed that the arachnid stayed put, staring where the mule deer was last seen.

"What is it now? Aren't you satisfied that they are safe and sound?", he asked.

"Somethin's not right.", Angel said. "They smelled like aphrodisiac was poured all over them."

"A what?", the deer demon replied, a bit confused. "That is a drug, correct?"

"Yeah.. And right now, it ain't a good one.", the fluffy demon stuffed the grocery bag in the fridge before running upstairs, shouting out the mule deer's name.

Curious indeed...

As I was writing this during break, coworker walked up and asked what I was writing and I immediately hid my phone.

~Seline, the person.

Part 4

Taglist@

@c4rved-pumpk1n @scary-noodlesblog @stolas-thebirb @naelys-the-aster @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @ducky-died-inside @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @line-viper @117s-girl @spiderlegsling @alastorsgoldie @kcsketches @lofasofabread @kotaleee @im-coolrat @superzombiewho @speckle-meow-meow @jammcookie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @trashbin-nie @koioli @fatherlesschild2 @mmik3yy @just-here-reading @nealeart @hudiexiaoying @crystal-multiplefandomlover @glowinggoldfish0 @tiredgamerhere @fluffy-koalala @valenfawkes @willowshadenox @aria-tempest @alastor-simp @nonetheartist @gallantys @i-3at-kidz @luxky-aish @ceafighter @xalygatorx @xangel-8 @big-brother-problems @mistpurpl3 @chewbrry @willowbrookhoot @briethekitsune @alastorthirsty @sir-aadiboii @fuzzyturtlepaws @+more in the comments+

ML II Alastor🎙 | CP ChL🦌

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munsster · 2 years ago

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hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #unrequited crush #stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #steve harrington #st4 #stranger things 4 #x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #angst #best friends to lovers #friends to lovers

2K notes · View notes

synamartia · 4 months ago

Text

Content Warnings: Alastor x Reader ; Afab!Reader ; No pronouns or Y/N used ; Use of gendered pet names like "good/dirty girl" ; Explicit / MDNI / 18+ ; Sexual situations ; Sex pollen tripe (Love Potion) ; Hematolagnia (blood play) ; Biting ; Dom!Alastor ; Face-sitting ; Dirty talk ; Unprotected sex ; Vaginal penetration ; P in V sex ; Creampie ; Overstimulation ; Alastor is his own CW ; If I missed any, let me know! Word Count: 6,542 Summoning: @hazelfoureyes ; @minkdelovely ; @sugoi-writes ; @fraugwinska ; @lustylita ; @eris-norwega ; @rapturenyx ; @sirens-and-moonflowers ; @swagkittybear ; @l3rittany ; @chibistar45 ; @aceumbrellaheroes ; @pearly-sadness ; @mydickisjuicy ; @daisy-figmund ; @lunaorlunareclipse Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay on this one - we had a couple unexpected issues come up that cut into my editing opportunities ;A; Like Chapter Two, this one is a direct continuation of the previous chapter. I'm gonna try to make the next chapter the end of this particular scene, so we'll be getting into the plot soon! Get ready, 'cause it gets dark right out the gate! Also, I apologize ahead of time for the cut-off point - I know it's gonna leave some of ya'll with blue balls. But I'll make it up to you! I swear! Alastor's dialogue will be in bold red, thoughts in italics red, and Reader's will be in blue. If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, let me know via ask/comment!

"Ah-! Fuck!"

You cried suddenly when he switched from kneading away at your breast to pinching your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and index finger. Your walls clenched tightly around his stiff cock at this, extracting a raspy whine from him. Alastor was making it damn near impossible to keep your eyes open, to focus on him. Every single thing he did, from the perpetual thrusting of his hips right down to the sounds that poured from his mouth had you close to creaming on his cock.

"Hm? You like that?" Alastor asked you, tone mocking as he parroted back your question regarding his ears. A jovial laugh echoed in yours when he saw your pout, your lip jutting forward as he leaned down closer to your chest, his thrusts diligent and relentless in their speed. It was amazing that the desk was still standing in spite of the rough pounding he was giving you. With one hand switching between massaging the spongy flesh of your breast to pinching and twisting its tip, Alastor's mouth attended to the other - teeth grazing the pebbled tissue, his lips wrapping around your erect nipple. Suckling gently, he began to flick his tongue over it a few times shortly before pulling away to place tender kisses to your heated, flushed skin. "Oh, my dear - you're so soft," he whispered, speaking more to himself than you, biting near your sternum hard enough to draw blood - sucking at the few droplets that trickled from the tiny wound seconds later.

Lapping at the small gashes in a soothing manner, he moaned into your skin as beads of the delectable red liquid coated his tongue. "So sweet," he mumbled against the malleable flesh. Alastor just knew your breasts would look positively radiant with bite marks, varying degrees of bruises and hickeys littering your skin - every single magnificent blemish a result of his ministrations. Knowing that he was the one to put them there had him twitching inside you, eager to make the images in his mind a reality.

"And all for me."

Alastor withdrew from your delectably beautiful breast, his lips popping loudly as the suction ceased. He took a moment to admire his work - the skin already beginning to darken where he had been suckling; his saliva that coated the hickey making it shine in the dim light; the red imprint of his hand and crescent shaped indentations of his nails where he unwittingly squeezed a little too hard; the way the surrounding area of your lacerated flesh where he bit you began to redden and swell. A sense of triumph and pride came over him, as he had been right - they did look absolutely radiant like this. It had him wondering what the rest of you would look like with similar markings; bite marks on the insides of your thighs and neck, scratches down your back made by his clawed hands, bruises littered across your chest and abdomen - his thrusts lost their rhythm at the thought of it all.

Soon after, Alastor was drawn from his imagination when he felt your hands in his hair again - only this time, your slender fingers were wrapped around the base of his antlers. How you were able to surprise him so easily, so often with such miniscule actions, he'd never know. "A-Ala- ...! Fuck, fuck, please- ...!" you choked out in between your gasping for air and loud sobs of ecstasy, your eyes fluttering as you fought against your own instincts, to keep them focused on his face. "Don't stop, don't stop, oh my god- ...! Oh fffuuu-!" you begged him, tears welling up in your eyes as you teetered right on the cusp of euphoria. A guttural moan from deep within his chest filled the air at the vice grip you had on both his antlers and his cock, nearly swallowed by the melodious sounds you were making and the steady slaps of skin on skin each time he slammed into you. His eyes shifted to radio dials as he watched the expressions you were making with exultation, basking in the marvelous rhapsodies you were singing for him.

Pressing his lips back against your breast, Alastor started to suck and bite in previously unmarked areas - determined to cover every inch of your silky skin. "Cum for me," he beckoned, control slipping from his fingers once again as he began to lose himself in the rapturous pleasure your body was providing. That was all you needed to hear - the sinful drag of his length within your dripping cunt finally pushing you over the edge, every muscle in your body contracting as the first waves of delicious gratification washed over you, swallowing you whole and claiming your senses. Alastor relished in the way your brows furrowed and your jaw dropped, a silent scream clinging to the back of your throat as you gave yourself over to the electrifying cascades. "Such a beautiful sight," he drawled, voice thick with lust and passion, the near deafening crackles and pops of static filling your ears - it was impossible that a more heavenly sight could exist, he thought.

If he could focus on anything else except the way you were squeezing him so tight, Alastor would be thinking of ways to save this moment, this beauty that you were oh-so-gracious enough to share with him. "... - sstor! A-Al-! Hoh- ohhh-! Mmmah-! Alasss- ...!" you couldn't form any coherent words, having been reduced to a blubbering mess as your walls clamed down on his erect member, the way they so greedily continued to suck him back in with each retraction of his hips, the near painful hold you had on him only serving to heighten the pleasure that accompanied it ten-fold.

"If you keep- ... Nnghh-! -keep squeezing me like that, darling-! Fuuhh-!" he tried to warn you, the futility of his words falling on deaf ears - he was too far gone, his words no longer mattered. Alastor had been so focused on coaxing another climax out of you that he failed to notice how close he was to his own, not until the suffocating grip you had on his cock was hurtling him down into the euphoric pits of bliss - forcing him to empty himself inside you for the second time. "Wait, wait- ...! Oh fuck, I'm-!" he cursed, unable to finish his sentence in time as his balls tightened and his mouth hung open, his breath hitching in his throat. He clenched his eyes shut and bowed his head, the sensations overwhelming him - your core dragging him down further and further with every pulse, every contraction of your muscles as he painted your walls white with his seed.

As you slowly came down from your high, seeing his reaction had you pouncing on the opportunity to give Alastor a little taste of his own medicine. You tightened your hold on his enlarged antlers, knuckles white as you pulled his head back and forced him to look up at you, a devious smirk dancing across your lips. "Eyes on me, dearest," you teased him, your tongue lingering on the last word as his body shook and shivered each time you pumped the velvety bones protruding from his skull - your hold pushing him straight into overstimulation with each stroke, every twist of your hands, your nimble fingers massaging gently over any branches you could reach.

Alastor stared up at you with hooded eyes, lips parted as he panted hard - his carefully curated mask of control and ambiguity faltering for a split second as he collapsed on top of you, his strength leaving his body. The small glimpse this gave you into his inner word had your smile softening into one of complete adoration, watching him rest his cheek on your breast, his smile exhausted and tranquil as he tried to level out his breathing.

Retracting your hands from the now shrinking bone, you laced your fingers into his disheveled crimson tresses, smoothing out the ruffled strands. "Good boy," you praised, letting the tips of your fingers stroke the backs of his hypersensitive ears, earning you a relaxed sigh as he nuzzled into your bosom. The two of you stayed like this for a few minutes - simply basking in the afterglow of your passionate acts and enjoying the silence that followed. It felt so surreal to you, being here with Alastor in such an intimate manner, unable to recall the last time you felt so peaceful, so safe in the arms of another person. If you could, you would have stopped time, if only to stay like this - in this moment for just a little while longer. You didn't want this feeling to disappear, absolutely terrified of what would come once it did.

'No, not now. I refuse to think about that - about him...'

Alastor broke his gaze first, closing his eyes and turning his head to place chaste kisses to your chest - and just like that, the mask had returned to its rightful place, barring you from the most vulnerable sanctuary of his inner world as the roiling waves of his release finally subsided, allowing him to take hold of the reins once more. A sigh of repose made its way past his lips as Alastor moved to stand up straight now, his hands wrapping around the back of your thighs. "My, my. Brazen little thing, aren't you?" his question rhetorical, his eyes drifting down your sweat covered figure as he pushed your legs further apart. He stared down at the place where your bodies were joined, pride swelling within his being while he admired the way he stretched you open.

Your walls clung to his shaft mercilessly, refusing to release their tight grip as he slowly retracted his hips until he'd pulled out of you entirely - sticky strings of his seen momentarily keeping you connected. "Fuck," Alastor groaned as he watched the viscous white fluid seep from your quivering hole and roll down your ass, a few beads dripping onto the carpeted floor beneath him, admiring the way your pussy clenched around nothing. With his left hand, he swiped at any drops he could catch and pushed it back inside with his index and middle fingers, pumping his digits slowly, eliciting a strangled whine out of you and causing your thigh to strain against his other hand. A haughty laugh erupted from his chest at your weak attempts to close your legs, removing his fingers from your core and bringing them up to your mouth.

"Open,"

Alastor commanded you, then pushed his fingers past your lips to press flat against your tongue. "So messy," he breathed out as you sucked his digits clean of your mixed fluids, not wanting a single drop to go to waste. Satisfied with your obedience, Alastor withdrew his fingers from your mouth a few moments later and cupped your cheek - brushing his calloused thumb over the remnants of your running mascara and eventually drifting back down to press against your lower lip. In that instance, his ever-present smile softened into one of serenity and contentment, drinking in this moment of complete ataraxy.

He could feel the effects of the Love Potion finally begin to drain from his body, being replaced with a sense of relief and... disappointment. 'Something's not right here,' Alastor realized, noticing that despite having successfully remedied his symptoms, he still very much so desired your company and affection. He rarely experienced emotions of a sexual nature outside his ruts, and he couldn't recall having ever felt romantic attraction to anyone in life or in death, so it was strange that he found himself wanting to drag this out as long as possible. But why? What about you was so different that had him betraying his preferences, yearning for your touch and longing to hear those sweet whispers over and over again until you couldn't speak?

Perhaps Love Potion was more than just a potent aphrodisiac and he simply underestimated the range of effects that spray could have on a person. He never had any reason to learn anything about it before tonight, viewing it strictly as another pointlessly annoying invention by those bandwagon riding hacks, so he was in the dark just as much as you. Or maybe his rut hit him early this time around. Whatever the case, Alastor refused to admit these were his own raw, unfiltered emotions and desires - it was too ridiculous, too comical a notion to be true. Him, the Radio Demon, the great and powerful Alastor, famous for his sadistic brutality, experiencing feelings as asinine and weak as romance? How utterly absurd!

... Unfortunately, the longer it went on, the more he was forced to acknowledge the horrendous possibility that dreadful mixture had only served as a catalyst to something much greater than a simple romp in the hay.

'This won't do,' Alastor thought, knowing he had to uproot these feelings of infatuation as soon as possible - before they grew beyond containment and become a threat of any sort. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was fully aware that it was a foolish decision, to not cut this off at the source immediately, but he couldn't help himself. The brilliance with which your eyes shined and the promises of bliss your body continued to make even now had him second guessing that course of action. But there was still a very real possibility, one much more likely that this was just a passing fancy brought on by the drug, and all he needed to do was get it - get you out of his system. 'Yes, that's all I need to do,' he told himself, deciding that he would indulge in these cravings - and you - for a little while longer.

Impulsively, Alastor leaned down again to give you a sweet kiss. His lips lingered on yours, one hand moving to curl around the back of your neck, the other finding your waist as he tugged you up into a sitting position. What started out as an innocent kiss soon turned more playful when he felt your teeth nipping and tugging on his lip, causing him to pull away with a light-hearted chuckle. "Quite the mischievous little minx, too," he said as he continued to smile down at you, a breathy giggle emerging from your throat in response to his statement. "There's the pot calling the kettle black," you mused, letting your hands rest on his forearms and leaning forward to press your head against his bare chest. "Hmm... I prefer the term 'cheeky monkey', but I suppose mischievous works just as well," he countered, lightly massaging the base of your scalp.

Silence filled the space between you as your exhaustion was quickly catching up, and you struggled to keep your eyes open. You had to stifle yet another yawn, something that did not go unnoticed by Alastor when he pulled you back gently by your hair to see your face better. "Tired? Would you like to stop?" he asked you, his grin widening when he saw the confusion on your face. Alastor looked down at the small space between your bodies, then to your face as a single brow rose - as if he was hinting for you to look down as well. "As enjoyable as that was, I don't think it was enough to rid my body of these pesky symptoms," he blamed that god-awful concoction, adamantly refusing to admit these desires were all his and nothing more. Following Alastor's suggestions, you looked down to see that he was once again fully erect, beads of precum leaking from his head to join with the remnants of your mixed essences. "Damn... What the hell did they put in that potion?" you asked jovially as you looked back up at him, a smile to match his own plastered across your face.

"I've not the slightest clue," Alastor laughed along with you at this predicament you've found yourselves in, glad that you both were now able to make light of the situation your mistake had caused. "But I will most definitely be having a little chat with our friend, Angel, about bringing such paraphernalia into this establishment come morning," he promised, his voice coming out as a growl as Angel's name rolled off his tongue. Alastor wholeheartedly blamed Angel for this chain of events - had he kept to the initial agreement when taking up residence at Hazbin Hotel, the drug never would have been anywhere near your naive self, and he wouldn't be tearing himself apart inside trying to figure out what it is he truly felt for you. Was it a fair judgement? Probably not, but it was of no concern to Alastor.

That was Charlie's job, not his.

"Uh-huh... And will this be a chat, chat, or should I stock up on tissues and ice cream before telling Charlie that her first guest is, ya know-" you ran your finger in a straight line across your neck as a way of saying 'dead'. Your question pulled him from his thoughts and Alastor blinked innocently. "Oh, heaven's no! I'm not going to kill him over something so frivolous as this!" he reassured you, waving a hand in the air to dismiss the idea. He had thought about it, sure - but it would bring more trouble than it was worth. He would never hear the end of it from Charlie and her pet; not to mention the numerous problems that would occur following his butchery of an owned soul, one belonging to a rival Overlord, and of high quality and value as Angel Dust. He could easily handle whatever the Vee's threw at him without breaking a sweat, but he'd rather not invite that kind of trouble to his doorstep just yet, not with the impending Extermination steadfastly approaching.

"He wouldn't die anyway, unless I used angelic steel. I'd rather save myself the headache he would give me after he puts himself back together."

Alastor had to hand it to Angel, though. He was mildly impressed by the resilience of his soul as well as his mind. When there was more than a fifty percent gap in the level of power, usually the owned soul would lose their sense of autonomy and become a mindless drone within the owner's ranks - but not him. Angel not only maintained his sentience after selling his soul, but he also still possessed the will to fight back too - and fight back, he did whenever Val's abuse stepped outside the parameters of their contract, a feat deserving of his praise. He had potential, that one. "Besides, it's far too entertaining to watch him annoy Husker. Poor fellow brings it on himself," he explained and waved away your concerns, soon turning his attention back to the growing ache within his loins.

"Okay, good. It's not really his fault, anyway," you mumbled as you thought of how you were going to get to Angel first - you had to warn him, at least. He may have brought Love Potion into the hotel, but you were the one ignorant enough to spray a previously unknown substance around one of the most feared demons Hell has ever known in recent memory. Angel already had one Overlord breathing down his neck, abusing him at every turn - it would eat you alive if you were the reason a second was added to the mixture. Drawing your attention back to him, Alastor lowered his hands to your hips and pulled you closer, pressing himself against you in an effort to alleviate some of his pain. "But I can think of a couple things that would be far more entertaining than a cat trying to swat away a spider," he purred, static popping loudly as he leaned down to steal another kiss from you, to which you happily returned.

The moment was fleeting as Alastor pulled back and reached behind you to the small vintage radio sitting near the corner of his desk. He pulled the knob to power it up and turned a few dials until smooth jazz began to play from its speakers. Although still mildly irked by your earlier actions - when you covered your mouth in an attempt to silence yourself - he remembered the embarrassment he saw in your eyes. Now that he was able think more clearly on it, he realized how much it truly bothered you to be heard by someone else other than him, and it sent small pangs of guilt all throughout his being. 'How inconsiderate of me,' he thought, cursing himself for not having any restraint despite his warning of the possibilities earlier. Alastor owed you an apology for the way he ignored your feelings in pursuit of his own pleasure, especially when you had been nothing but compassionate and accommodating of his needs.

Taking a step back, Alastor bent over to unlace his shoes and remove his remaining garments that were wrapped around his ankles - allowing you a glimpse of something curious. Initially, you had no idea what it was as you leaned forward, then side to side in an attempt to get a better look at it. "Hmm...?" Alastor hummed when he stood up straight, immediately noting the perplexed expression that overtook your features as he kicked his trousers and briefs to the side. "Something the matter, dear?" he asked you, tilting his head to the side as you pressed your lips into a thin line. You continued to eye the neatly groomed ball of crimson and black fluff for a few seconds before it finally dawned on you what it might have been.

Does... he have a tail?

"Alastor, is that a tail?" you blurted without thinking, immediately slapping both of your hands over your mouth right after. "Oh- that," he said nonchalantly, moving to stand between your legs once more. Your body tensed as you awaited his reaction, certain that you had earned yourself a good scolding for such an impolite question. You hadn't meant to be so bold or outright, but you've long since known that your body and your brain hadn't been on the same page since the moment all of this began. "Yes, it's a tail," Alastor responded with a sigh and turned slightly, swishing the puff of fur side to side a couple times to amuse you before turning back. "I'm sorry, that was rude- ...!?" you tried to apologize, but a surprised squeal interrupted your speech when his sharpened claws sunk into your posterior after he hoisted you up off the desk, your hands shooting up to grab onto his shoulders and legs wrapping around his waist in the process.

"It's alright, darling," Alastor reassured you, spinning around and taking a few long strides to the rarely used bed. "While I'm not particularly fond of it, my tail isn't something that I've ever gone out of my way to hide," he explained, dropping you onto the mattress and climbing on top of you soon after, nestling himself in between your legs as you breathed a sigh of relief - albeit a short-lived one. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, causing your body to tense right back up with each word that spilled from his lips. "Although, you are correct - it was quite rude to ask such a thing," he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, his pointed teeth nipping at the shell of your ear, then moving down to tug on the lobe. "Perhaps I should give you a lesson in proper etiquette, hm?" Alastor mused, rolling his bare hips against yours, sending shivers up and down your spine, not missing the flash of panic in your eyes when his words finally registered in your brain.

'Shit. Shit, shit, shit- fucking hell, fuck my life!' you thought, trying to reel yourself back in and failing miserably. If this 'lesson' of his was anything like the punishment he had doled out earlier, you knew you were in for a rough night - one that would leave you physically incapable of walking out of his room come morning. "No- ...! Al, no, no... i-it was just a slip of the tongue, I swear!" your pleas had no effect on him though, his lips ghosting over the carotid artery in your neck, then over your collar bone and traveling further down to your breasts. "I'm sorry, please- ...!" you spoke, only to be interrupted by Alastor's stern gaze, looking up at you as he placed butterfly kisses to your bare chest and his teeth grazed over your erect nipple. "I know you are, dear," Alastor started, kissing further down your diaphragm to your navel, not breaking eye contact for even a millisecond. "But if 'sorry' fixed everything, there would be no hell, no demons, and we most definitely would not be in this hotel," he smirked wickedly, knowing that you couldn't argue with the point he had just made - your silence proved as much.

Alastor continued to move south, soon reaching the delicious mound between your thighs, never once thinking it would be this fun, this intoxicating. But, as much as he wanted to devour you and everything you had to offer him, he was on a self-imposed mission now and couldn't let himself get distracted. He would have the chance to indulge himself in a few short moments, anyway. Heated breath fanning over your soaked core, Alastor lightly kissed and nipped at the insides of your thighs, past your knees and down your calves - stopping momentarily for a taste of your blood that was still seeping from your self-inflicted wound. He groaned as the taste of copper coated his tongue, one hand wrapping around your ankle, deft digits unclasping the strap of your heel - repeating the process with the other and discarding both seconds later.

Sighing in defeat, you wiggled your newly freed toes while Alastor began to kiss his way back up your body until he was face to face with you again. "W-well then... what would this lesson entail, exactly?" you asked nervously, resigning yourself over to your fate as you tried to sift through your mixed emotions, unable to differentiate your anxiety from your excitement for the coming lesson. "Ah, ah, ah - patience, my dear," Alastor chuckled darkly at your question, not bothering to answer it as he roughly pressed his lips to yours and pinched one of your pert nipples. "Mmph-phh!" you whined, your body flinching at the pain his digits were causing as he twisted the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Alastor pulled back, his teeth dragging your bottom lip with him as far as it would go - releasing it and your pebbled nipple simultaneously a few seconds later.

"On your knees."

Gulping audibly, you moved to sit up and reposition yourself in the center of his bed, eager yet a bit fearful of what he had in store. "O-okay... now what?" Alastor didn't answer your question at first, his figure evaporating into a cloud of black smoke only to reform in the space behind you. You couldn't see what he was doing, feeling the bed shift with his every move, causing your heart to race as you did your best to wait patiently for whatever it was that he had planned. "Now, we're going to play a little game, love," Alastor whispered in your ear, using his knee to force your legs further apart, tracing his lips down the rigid vertebrae of your spine. He placed one final kiss at the small of your back, eventually moving to lie flat on his own and scooting upwards until his face was between your thighs.

Looking down when you felt his antlers scrape across your sensitive skin, you had to cover your mouth with both hands to stile a laugh. "Alastor, what are you doing?" you asked, not expecting to have seen just his head in this position nor the uncharacteristic look of innocence he was giving you - a stark contrast to his previous display of dominance moments ago. "I told you already - we're going to play a game, one that will teach you some proper manners," Alastor explained despite knowing that your question was rhetorical - he knew it must have been an amusing sight, to look down and see his face when you were likely expecting him to whisper sweet nothings in your ear as he took you in every which way he pleased. He still intended to do exactly that, but not before you finished this game he just now concocted. Hands latching on to your hips, Alastor pulled your lower body down until you could feel his breath against your warmth each time he exhaled, that devilish silver tongue of his licking a single long stripe from your opening up and over your clit, then back down again.

"The rules are simple enough," Alastor began to explain, hands drifting down from your hips to the tops of your thighs and squeezing lightly. "I'll go easy on you, my darling doe. All you have to do is name five basic etiquette rules. If you stop talking, I stop," he paused mid-sentence to lick another stripe up your slick folds, "if you slow down, I slow down," another pause, this time flicking the tip of his tongue over the pink nub in between. "And if you cum before reciting them to me, trust that I won't let you cum again tonight," he promised, smile wide and wicked, a mischievous laugh following his words. You broke out into a cold sweat as he explained, your nerves kicking into overdrive as you tried to remember what the rules were. Most of them were common courtesy and usually taught to everyone during childhood, but with your mind so clouded with lust, you couldn't think of a single one. On the bright side, at least he only wanted you to name five.

"A-and... what if I can't recite any of these rules?" you asked sheepishly, biting the inside of your cheek to hold back your mewls when he dipped his tongue inside your plush walls and swirled all around them, retreating soon after and returning to your clit. He pulled back just enough to speak, inhaling your sweet scent and fighting back the urge to dive right back in - rules be damned. "Hmm... I'll give you one hint. After that, well... You're on your own. Use it wisely, my dear," his voice trailed off, eyes glowing a bright red as you stared at each other.

"Now, shall we begin, my sweet?"

Fuck, this was going to be hard. How the fuck were you supposed to think and form coherent sentences when his ministrations were lighting every single nerve in your body on fire? And you hadn't even begun yet! Alastor was awaiting your signal to start, anticipation and impatience gnawing away at his self-control. "Ooohhh- ohh-kaah- aay-! Let's staa-hahh- arrrt-!" you cried, trying to focus your mind so that you could begin. "Wonderful," he responded shortly before diving back in for another taste of your honey sweet essence. He started by poking and prodding at your slick entrance, then moved up to suck on your clit as you moaned softly with each suckle, each flick over the small cluster of nerves. He could see the gears turning in that pretty little head of yours, trying to find the words to recite the first rule of basic etiquette.

"O-okay, uhm... fuck," you whispered. "One rule is- so the first rule, I mean- nnghh!" a harsh suckle from Alastor was making it hard for you to focus on anything except the pleasure he was giving you. "A-always be respectful to others-!" With one rule down, you heard Alastor hum softly into your heated flesh, gasping loudly when he opened his mouth wider and pressed his tongue flat against your delicious mound, making long, firm strokes. "Aaahh-! Another rule i-is... shit, another rule is- ... is, be punctual- hahh! Let someone k-know if you're going to be- fuck! -To be late!" Rule number two, done; three to go. You tried to keep talking, even if it was just a bunch of babbling nonsense. You didn't want him to slow down or stop, but as the coil in your belly tightened rapidly and threatened to snap at any second, you recalled the third rule he had given you:

'And f you cum before reciting them to me, trust that I won't let you cum again tonight.'

Those words rang in your ears as you reluctantly closed your mouth and forced yourself to stop talking, trying to cool yourself off and push back your orgasm. Alastor wasn't pleased by this, but he was the one that set the rules, so he obeyed - stopping his movements and glaring up at you, his nails digging into the fat of your thighs as a warning not to test his already too thin patience. "Go on," he urged you, his right hand retreating from your leg to travel down his own body to his painfully erect cock, precum dripping from his slit and rolling down the length of it to soak the patch of neatly groomed crimson hair at his base. Swallowing hard, you nodded your head and opened your mouth to continue speaking even though you had not yet come down completely. "A-ask for permission, an-nnnghh-! And uhmm- oh fuck! Fuck, c-cover your mouth when you... when you sneeze, or cough- oh my god!" you recited rule number three and four in quick succession, your hands shooting down to twist and tug at his magnificently opulent head of red and black hair, eventually moving to wrap around the base of his antlers, looking for something to ground yourself as you tried to think of one final rule.

"You're doing well, Mon Amour. One more, and then you can let go," Alastor promised you, lazily stroking his hardened length in an effort to alleviate some of the pain, a bead of pre rolling down the length of it and mixing with your combined essences in the space between his shaft and balls. A soft whine escaped his throat when he tightened his grip and began to pump himself with a little more vigor, drool mixed with the delicious nectar spilling from your core trickling down the sides of his face and coating his chin. "Come now, don't keep me waiting. You can do it," he mumbled against your flesh, waiting for you to begin speaking again.

Alastor continued to pump his shaft, gradually gaining speed as you remained silent, panting hard and squeezing his antlers even harder, struggling to fight back your release long enough to finish the game. But the sight beneath you was one to behold, indeed - you couldn't bring yourself down even a smidgen as you admired the way the soft light shone on his disheveled hair, how his hooded eyes spoke volumes on what he was feeling, new branches forming and growing from the main roots of his antlers as control began to slip from his fingertips once more. And just as you stared at him, he stared back. His own eyes traveled from your blissed out expression, pupils blown wide with lust, to the bite marks and hickeys scattered across your neck and collarbone, and further down to the curve of your supple breasts heaving as you tried to catch your breath before you continued. "My sweet doe, please..." Now he was the one that was begging, voice thick with seduction and desperation. Had you not been so close to your peak, you would have taken full advantage of the opportunity to dominate him this time around.

You watched him for a couple seconds, listening as his breathing became more ragged and the slick sounds of his hand rapidly pumping his shaft grew louder and louder. Moans soon replaced his huffs and gasps as he pushed himself closer to his climax, almost foregoing his own game and devouring your sweet little cunt as he chased his high - but no. He persevered, pinching his tip suddenly to push back his own release in favor of hearing the last rule he so eagerly waited for you to speak. He didn't have to wait for long, as you finally felt comfortable enough to open your mouth and continue speaking, pressing your drenched core down and grinding slow, harsh circles on his mouth. "A-and the last rule- nnghh oh fuck me, just like that-!" you whispered, grip tightening around his antlers as Alastor growled against your ambrosian heat, his left hand moving down to join the other by cupping his aching balls, kneading and rolling them between his digits, slurping messily and sucking harshly on your clit as he came closer and closer to his release.

"The last rule i-is- hahhh-! A-always... always say please and thank you!" you finished, closing your eyes and throwing your head bad in ecstasy, your hips gyrating, desperately chasing that breath-takingly, blissful release. "Oh my god, fuck- thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank youuu-ahh! Please, keep going, Al-!" you cried as the blinding, white hot euphoria crashed into you at long last, tremors wracking your entire body as you rode out your high, your essence pouring from your cunt and down Alastor's throat, eliciting a graphic, drawn out groan as he vigorously pumped away at his cock - too far gone to care that you had broken the golden rule by looking away from him. Not wanting to cum just yet, Alastor retracted his hands from his aching shaft and grabbed hold of your waist, lifting you slightly to slip out from beneath you.

"You're so good for me! So good," Alastor murmured as he moved to sit on his knees behind you, pushing your body forward until you were on your hands and knees. Grabbing hold of your hips and dragging you closer to him, he didn't waste any time as he guided his throbbing member to your quivering hole, your juices making it easy for him to slip inside with minimal resistance. Setting a brutal pace almost instantly, Alastor held you by the hips as you lowered your upper body until your face was pressed against the heavy duvet, your hands clenching the thick fabric as Alastor pounded away at your overstimulated pussy, his balls slapping loudly against your clit as your walls clamped down on his engorged cock. "Hah- A-Ah! Ala- fuck, yes, just like that! Please don't stop, please don't stop, don't stop!" you babbled, your voice muffled by the blanket as you closed your eyes tightly, riding the aftershocks while he used you for his own gratification.

"Fuuuhh-ckkk!" you barely heard Alastor curse, his voice almost completely drowned out by the rhythmic 'pap! pap! pap!' sound of skin on skin, his thrusts becoming more animalistic with every slap, every plea you cried than bounced off the walls and invaded his senses. His eyes traveled down the length of your arched spine, watching as ripples were sent through the fat of your ass each time his hips made contact, his cock sliding against your pliant walls with ease, his tip bullying your cervix. "Hah! Hah! Fuh- ... uhah! Ala- ... Hah! Ah!" you practically screamed, his thrusts interrupting any attempts to say his name each time he plowed forward.

"Take it, take it, fucking take it- fuck!"

[ Master Post ] ❀ [ Chapter One ] ❀ [ Chapter Two ] ❀ [ Chapter Three ] ❀ [ Chapter Four ] ❀ [ Chapter Five ] Chapter Four Coming Soon~!

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kai-uh-arcadian · 3 months ago

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I feel like I know you

synopsis: you relentlessly have dreams of a woman you can never remember the moment you wake up

cw: soulmate! AU, angsty-(?), minor cursing, briefly suggestive, alcohol, brief mentions of death/killing

word count: 7.5K

notes! hi hi (: it’s lowkey inspired by the movie ‘Your Name’ but with Tzuyu! (obv) Italics indicate dreams/other timelines. I really enjoyed writing this— although I’m inexperienced I hope you enjoy! Let me know how you feel about it or if you’d just like to chat! Love youuu (:

You were at the bookstore when you first heard it.

Bells.

Clear and unmistakable, the sound cut through the quiet hum of the store. It was as if the world paused for a moment, just long enough for the chime to echo between you both.

You were walking through the narrow aisle, lost in thought, when your shoulder brushed against hers. The contact was brief, almost incidental, but the timing was perfect—right as the bell rang. Both of you stopped, caught off guard, and turned to face each other. Her eyes were wide with the same bewilderment you felt. For a split second, it was as if the world shrank to just the two of you, suspended in that peculiar moment.

“Oh-! I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath– trying to assuage the awkwardness that was in the air. She nodded, offering a small smile before you both continued on your way, the moment slipping into the background like a passing breeze.

You finished your browsing, paid for your book, and headed back to your studio apartment. The familiar warmth of home welcomed you along with your dog Bread as he was wagging his tail. You set the book down on the table, patted Bread’s head, and moved through the motions of your evening routine—making dinner, washing the dishes, tidying up and showering.

Finally, as the day wound down, you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. Your thoughts drifted to the beautiful woman in the bookstore, the sound of the bell, and the strange sense that something had shifted. You decided to shrug it off as a coincidence as maybe someone had opened the door at the exact moment you two brushed against each other(but you swore you only heard it in your head, not from your ears.)

But sleep came quickly, pulling you into its embrace before you could dwell on it any longer.

That’s when it began.

The dreams.

You’ve always had vivid dreams, the kind that feel more like memories than figments of your imagination. But this was different. The clarity, the intensity—it was as though you were slipping into another world entirely.Truly blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

“Jagiya~, let’s go up there! That spot looks perfect!” The voice was ethereal, almost musical, as she led you up a lush, green hill, a wicker picnic basket swinging gently in her free hand.

“Yeah! That’s perfect!” you replied, your voice bright with excitement. But even as the words left your lips, it felt odd—as if you were watching a scene play out from a distant memory, detached yet present. Like you were both an actor and observer, following along as if it were scripted, yet not fully in control.

The strangeness lingered.

You were fully conscious, intensely aware of everything around you: the warmth of the sun on your face, the way it cast a golden hue across the landscape; the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, brushing against your skin like a gentle caress; the intoxicating scent her rose perfume that drifted through the air, delicate and familiar, stirring something deep within you.

“When I used to get homesick, I would come here and make all the same snacks my mom used to make for me when she would take me out for a picnic” her voice entranced you like she was a siren. God.. Her laugh was even more enthralling, “She even let me bring TWO of my stuffed animals to join us” she chuckled

“I haven’t been here in a while though..” she trailed off as if she had more to say but waited for your response.

“Hm~? Why not jagi?” genuine curiosity evident in your voice

Who was this woman? A part of your mind questioned her identity, her presence—so familiar yet unplaceable. The other part of you was overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of love and happiness, as if every fiber of your being recognized her, longed for her. Your soul knew her.

You could only see her back as she walked ahead—her hair was black and cascaded down her back in soft waves, her frame slender and elegant, her height slightly above average. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her steps light and purposeful as if this hill was a sacred place, meant just for the two of you.

You reached the top of the hill, the world stretching out before you like a painted masterpiece. The woman paused, her back still to you, and you felt your heart quicken. She began to turn, slowly, as if in a movie, and you knew—knew with every part of you—that seeing her face would change everything.

“Well.. Because you’re my home now, y/n”

But just as your eyes were about to meet hers—

You woke up.

The dream slipped away like sand through your fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing, of something lost and yet to be found. Your heart raced as you lay there, the vividness of the experience etched into your mind, leaving you questioning whether it was just a dream or something more—a memory, or perhaps, of a life you couldn’t quite remember.

These dreams persisted for weeks, each one more vivid and consuming than the last. Pages and pages of your journal were filled with each dream with the mysterious woman. You also sketched whatever details of her world you could recall—an outdoor market while she browsed records, a side view of her looking at a bouquet of flowers, and a pair of small dogs, one dark, one light.

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, her face remained elusive. It was always blurred, or worse, you would wake up the moment you were about to see it. The frustration gnawed at you, driving you to spend more time with your journal, hoping that somehow, the next dream would reveal more pieces to complete this impossible puzzle.

After scribbling whatever details you could remember, you sighed, setting your pencil down. You cleaned yourself up, fed Bread, and sent some money to your loyal dog sitter (and neighbor!) Momo.

With Bread content and your mind somewhat at ease, you began to organize your things for work. Once everything was in order, you decided to head to your favorite café, Park’s Perk.

The morning air was crisp as you made your way down the familiar street. As you entered the café, the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted you, and you spotted your friend from college, Jihyo, preparing for the day ahead.

“Jihyo-unnie, you don’t understand these dreams I’ve been having!” you whined, trailing after her as she moved from table to table, wiping them down in preparation for opening.

She paused, glancing at you with a mix of concern and amusement. “You’re right, I don’t understand, but I can imagine how crazy it must be to experience them. Maybe it’s— Hi, welcome in!”

She was interrupted by the bell above the door jingling as another customer entered. You let out a sigh, flopping down into your usual seat by the window. “ Ugh~ It’s like every time I’m about to see her face, something pulls me out of the dream. I just can’t shake the feeling that she’s important, you know?”

Jihyo finished wiping down the last table and came over to join you, setting a steaming cup of your favorite brew in front of you. You said a quick ‘thank-you’ before she continued “You know, the subconscious mind is weird. Maybe it could be connecting you to a past life or maybe it’s just showing you the type of life you want to live with someone. Did you have a dream last night?”

You took a sip of the coffee before explaining, “Yeah we were..”

You rummaged through the cupboards of your home, carefully selecting your and your wife’s favorite tea cups. They were delicate, with hand-painted patterns you had both made at a pottery class you two took as a date. You gently scooped the tea leaves into the kettle, breathing in the familiar, calming scent as the steam rose. The boiling water poured into the kettle with a soft hiss, and you set it aside to steep

As you moved about the kitchen, you heard your wife’s footsteps in the hallway, the soft padding of her feet growing fainter as she entered the living room. A moment later, the gentle, melodic sound of the guzheng filled the air, the music wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It was a tune she often played, one that had become so familiar that you catch yourself humming it from time to time.

With the tea now steeped, you carefully carried the two cups and the kettle into the living room. Your wife was seated at the low table, her fingers gracefully plucking at the strings of the guzheng, lost in the flow of the music. You placed one of the cups near her, the delicate clink of porcelain barely interrupting her concentration. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and she giggled in response, her fingers briefly faltering on the strings.

“Is Xinyi asleep?” you asked as you began to pour the tea into her cup, the warm liquid swirling gently.

“Yes, it was easy today,” she replied, her voice filled with warmth. “She had so much fun at the park… You’re such a good mom.” She chuckled, reminiscing about the joy on your daughter’s face just a few hours ago.

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection as you hugged her from behind, your arms wrapping around her gently as she knelt at the table. You placed a tender kiss on the nape of her neck, and you felt her shiver in response, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “You’re an even better mom,” you whispered, “and the best wife.”

She leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours as she murmured a contented “Mm~” before her focus shifted back to the instrument. You released her, making your way to the couch and sinking into its familiar comfort. You rested your head on the armrest, watching her play, the music filling the room with a sense of peace and belonging.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you said, your voice low and filled with emotion. You smiled, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as the music lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. The sound of her playing, her voice humming along, was like a lullaby, soothing and familiar.

When you opened your eyes, everything had changed. The cozy living room with its warm lighting and familiar comforts was gone. Instead, you found yourself lying on a tiny twin mattress in a college dorm, facing a woman whose face was blurry. You could see her black hair cascading over the pillow, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber.

Despite the shift in surroundings, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. The comforter was pulled up to your chins, but you knew that you were both naked beneath the sheets. You reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your heart was doing flips–you swore she must’ve heard because she spoke up!

“Mm~ what’s your happiest memory?” she purred, her voice soft as she nuzzled into your hand, her smile evident even with her eyes still closed.

“My happiest memory?” you repeated, considering the out-of-the-blue question. Your hand gently caressed her chin with your thumb as you thought. “I think… I think it’s happening right now.”

She chuckled softly, and the sound was like music to your ears. “Is it because we just fucked?” she teased, playfully slapping your chest. The outlandish accusation made you laugh in disbelief

“No~!” you huffed, trying to keep a straight face, though you couldn’t quite hide your smile. “I’m just so in love with you,” you confessed, pulling her closer onto your bare chest. Your arms wrapped around her, holding her securely as she instinctively nuzzled closer, seeking to melt into you.

“Every moment with you is my favorite memory… It’s…” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your feelings. “It’s pure bliss,” you finally said, your voice barely more than a whisper as you leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Wow…” Jihyo sat there, momentarily speechless. Her wide eyes reflected a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “That was your dream?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, leaning forward in your seat. “It was like a dream within a dream. I could feel everything so vividly, and it hurt so much when I woke up, like I’d lost something real.”

Jihyo shook her head in amazement, taking in your words. “No, yeah, that’s crazy! I can barely remember my dreams, and if I do, they’re nothing like that—half the time they don’t even make sense,” she said with a laugh.

You chuckled along, feeling the tension ease as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. The two of you finished your coffee, chatting about the latest gossip, upcoming events at the café, and Jihyo’s plans for the weekend. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of the conversation.

As you were wrapping up your conversation, Jihyo suddenly glanced at her phone, her eyes widening slightly. “Hey, y/n-ah, don’t you have work soon?” she asked, tilting her head to the side with a playful smirk.

“Oh shit!” you blurted out, quickly checking your watch. Time had slipped away from you in the café. You jumped up from your seat, fumbling for your wallet. After handing Jihyo some money (with a little extra for the excellent company), you grabbed your briefcase and semi-shouted a quick, “Thank you!” to both Jihyo and Dahyun, who was working at the cash register with a knowing smile.

You made your hurried escape, the sound of the café’s lively chatter fading behind you. As you rushed toward the door, you slid past another customer entering the café. Just as you brushed by, bells rang out.

Something about the sound made you pause. You turned your head briefly to glance at the person you had just rushed by, catching a glimpse of her dark hair as she hesitated for a moment, then continued into the café.

“Hi, welcome in!” you heard Dahyun greet her warmly, her voice muffled by the distance.

But you were already moving again, lightly jogging away in a desperate attempt to make it to work on time. Yet, as you hurried down the street, something nagged at the back of your mind. The bells you’d just heard—those weren’t the usual café bells. They had a different tone, a different resonance, almost like the bells you had heard somewhere… before.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. There was no time to dwell on it now.

You finished work a bit earlier than usual, it was a rare occurrence. Leaning back in your chair, you loosened your tie, allowing yourself a deep, weary sigh. Between meeting with patients, sending medication forms for approval, and still being in school to pursue your doctorate, free time was a luxury you barely enjoyed. But today, you decided to treat yourself.

You scrolled through a delivery app, finally settling on your favorite dishes. As you added items to the cart, you thought of Momo. She was probably still at your place, taking care of Bread, and you were sure she wouldn't expect you back so early. You added a few of her favorite items to the order

You trudged home with bags of food in hand, you felt the weight of the day slowly lift off your shoulders. The familiarity of home was just what you needed. Finally reaching your apartment, you nudged the door open with your foot.

“I’m home~” you called out, your voice echoing through the hallway. “Momo, I brought food,” you added, setting the takeout bags on the kitchen counter before kicking off your shoes.

Momo’s teasing voice rang out from the living room, “Home early? You get laid off or something?”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you unpacked the food. “Hey, if I get laid off, then you suffer too, Miss Dogsitter,” you shot back with a grin. “Well, whatever, I brought you jokbal.”

Her eyes doubled in size as she peeked into the bags. “You’re the best boss ever,” she declared, her excitement evident as she started unpacking the food.

You knelt down to the ground, your heart warming as Bread hopped over to you, his tail wagging so furiously you were surprised it didn’t fly off. “Hi, baby~~!” you cooed, scratching behind his ears as he licked your face in greeting.

Momo, already impatiently digging into the food, glanced over at you. “You okay? How was work? You kinda look like shit,” she remarked, her voice muffled by a mouthful of food.

“Oh, wow thanks,” you replied, giving her a gentle nudge. “But yeah, I’m good. Just a bit mentally exhausted. I can’t seem to get a good night’s sleep lately.” You sighed, walking over to your living room and settling onto the couch with your food. “Work was fine, though. I actually finished up a bit early, which is why I was able to grab this before the place closed.”

Momo plopped down beside you, still chewing. “Oh! I bought you some beer and soju,” she said, swallowing her food. “I know you’ve been having those dreams, and I heard alcohol affects your REM cycle. Maybe it’ll stop the dreams? It’s not—or shouldn’t be—a permanent fix, but I thought maybe tonight you could use a break and get some better sleep.” She smiled at you, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

You paused, considering her suggestion. “Ah~ that’s not too bad of an idea. It is Friday, after all, so maybe I should try that tonight,” you agreed, digging into your samgyupsal.

After you two finished eating, Momo insisted on cleaning up while you headed to the shower. The hot water cascaded over you, washing away the stress of the day. When you emerged, the scent of food was replaced by the faint aroma of soju and beer. Momo had laid out an impressive selection on the table, and you couldn’t help but smile at her thoughtfulness.

You threw on a hoodie and joined Momo on the couch. She’d put on a random K-drama. The two of you chatted about anything and everything, the conversation flowing easily as the alcohol took the edge off. By the end of the night, you were both pretty drunk, laughter filling the small apartment as you reminisced about old memories and whatever the hell was on your mind.

When the hour grew late, Momo helped you into a makeshift couch bed, tucking you in. “Alright, get some sleep,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.”

You mumbled a sleepy ‘thank you’ as she quietly let herself out, heading to her apartment just next door. The room felt warm and cozy, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins as you drifted off, thinking that maybe tonight, you’d finally get a peaceful night’s sleep. Momo had said that alcohol could affect your REM sleep, meaning you wouldn’t dream—or at least, you wouldn’t remember your dreams. Right? It sounded like exactly what you needed. No more strange visions, no more waking up with a sense of longing. Just sleep. Right!?

But you were wrong.

Out of all the dreams you’d had, this one stood out the most.

Feudal Japan, Taisho Era

For as long as you could remember, your life had been defined by a single purpose: to protect the princess of Japan. These were the direct orders given to you by Lord Chou, the man who had rescued you from the wreckage of your past.

You were just a child, barely five years old, when Lord Chou found you. Cowered in a corner, knees drawn to your chest, you wept as your parents' lifeless bodies lay before you. Raiders had slaughtered them, leaving you orphaned and alone. Lord Chou, who had killed the raiders, initially intended to leave you there, a mere child of poor merchants with no future to speak of. But then, something caught his eye—a samurai sword lying beside your father’s body.

With a furrowed brow, he studied you for a moment before speaking the first words that would change your life forever: “From now on, you will be my daughter’s protector. Dedicate your life to her.”

And so you did. From that moment on, every breath you took was in service to those five words. You trained relentlessly, honing your skills until you were one of the finest samurai in all of Japan, sworn to protect Princess Chou with your life.

It was the night before a raid, and the atmosphere in the camp was thick with tension. You and your fellow samurai had been informed that you were outnumbered, 80 samurai against an entire army. Death was not just probable; it was certain. But you were not afraid. This was the life you had signed up for, a life that had been gifted to you as a second chance.

You knew what you had to do. But before the sun rose and the battle began, there was one person you needed to see—one person you had to say goodbye to.

The guards at the palace entrance let you in without question; it was not unusual for you to visit the princess at odd hours, checking in on her safety. Tonight, though, was different. As you approached her quarters, dressed in a simple yogi, you felt the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“Chou-sama, may I come in?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” came the familiar voice from beyond the tatami door. The soft glow of an oil lamp illuminated the silhouette of the princess, her figure graceful and serene.

You slid the door open, revealing the princess still adorned in her elegant jūnihitoe from today’s farewell ceremony, a sight that made your heart ache with unspoken emotion. She looked up at you with a polite smile, though her eyes held a hint of curiosity.

“Hello, Chou-sama. I apologize for the late meeting,” you said, bowing deeply, your forehead nearly touching the floor.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile gentle. “Do you need anything, y/n-san? It’s quite late.”

“Again, I apologize for the intrusion,” you began, sitting up from your bow. “I am aware of the hour, but I wanted to say goodbye. I leave at daybreak, and I fear this may be our last time speaking.”

Her face softened, her eyes widening in shock. You had known Princess Chou since you were children, she was always a bubbly and mischievous spirit. (you would usually always take the blame for her.. Unless of course they caught her red-handed) But about 5 years ago when she turned 13, the weight of her responsibilities had turned her serious, her carefree demeanor replaced by a stoicness that rarely broke.

“I see...” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Princess, that is all I wished to say. Thank you for allowing me to be by your side all these years. I owe my life to you and your family,” you said, bowing once more as you prepared to take your leave.

“Tzuyu,” she suddenly announced.

You paused, sitting back on your heels as you looked at her in confusion.

“My name is Tzuyu,” she repeated. “Please, call me that.”

In all the 13 years you had served her, you had never known her first name. It was not unusual, given your status as a samurai, once a mere peasant. “It’s a beautiful name... Tzuyu,” you said, the name foreign on your tongue as it seemed disrespectful.

Her tone sharpened, though not unkindly. “Are those your final words to me? Or is there more you wish to say?”

She had always been perceptive, reading your body language and the emotions you struggled to conceal. Your heart ached with the weight of everything you had left unsaid, and your eyes flashed with a sadness you could no longer hide.

“Go on, tell me,” she urged, her gaze softening as the stoic mask she wore began to crumble.

Taking a deep breath, you met her eyes. “You gave me a reason to live, a purpose that has defined my existence. I have gladly dedicated my life to you, which is why I am honoured to die for you. From the moment we met, I was prepared to sacrifice my life for yours. But while I am unafraid to face death, I am terrified of leaving you behind. You are the only person I have final words for, the most important person in my otherwise meaningless life.”

Her expression remained composed, but you could see the glossiness in her eyes as she listened to your words. “I could speak to my father,” she bargained, her voice monotone. “If you die, who will be my protector?”

“Cho-.. Tzuyu... this is something I must do. It is my duty, the vow I made to your father. I cannot dishonour that promise,” you replied, your heart sinking as the reality of the situation settled in.

“I see,” she said, though her tone betrayed the emotions she struggled to suppress.

“Promise me that you’ll come back alive?” She whispered looking at the tatami mat below her

“I promise I will fight until my last breath to return to you” You said trying to assuage her worries, knowing that survival was futile. She caught it too.

A heavy silence fell between you, both of you lost in thought, searching for the right words to say.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.

“Yes... I believe I do,” you answered, surprised by the sudden question.

“Then promise me that you will find me in the next life. Promise me that you’ll never leave my side, that we’ll live as normal civilians, free from war,” she said, her voice quivering with vulnerability.

For a moment, the room was silent, her request hanging in the air. Finally, you nodded, your voice steady as you replied, “Yes, Tzuyu, I promise. A life where war does not exist, where you need no protection, and I can live peacefully by your side.”

Tears began to spill down her cheeks, the facade of the princess melting away to reveal the woman beneath. The woman you have loved for years. The woman that you’ll love in each lifetime–each timeline. “Kiss me, please. That is an order,” she whispered desperately as her voice broke.

You got up and you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. That night, your bodies blended into one, a final act of love and devotion before the sun would separate you forever.

The clang of steel echoed around you as you fought relentlessly on the battlefield. Your sword clashed with that of an opposing soldier, your movements swift and precise. With a final thrust, you ended his life, but before you could even take a breath, a sharp pain shot through your back, spreading to your chest.

An arrow.

You gritted your teeth, trying to focus through the searing pain, but another arrow followed. Then another. And another. And another. Four in total, each one piercing through your back and exiting through your chest.

Cowards.

You staggered, blood seeping through your armor, staining the ground beneath you. With every step, your vision blurred, but you kept moving, refusing to fall. The weight of your promise to Tzuyu was the only thing keeping you on your feet. But your body could only endure so much, and eventually, it gave out. You collapsed harshly onto the ground, the earth cool against your burning skin.

As you lay there, the world around you seemed to fade away. The sounds of battle grew distant, and all you could think of was her.

Tzuyu.

Her name was a chant in your mind, a desperate plea that echoed in the void of your fading consciousness.

Tzuyu.

You had promised her, but now you were dying, unable to keep your word. The regret was a weight heavier than any armor, crushing your spirit even as your body lay broken.

Tzuyu...

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t return.

The darkness began to close in, your vision narrowing to a single point before it, too, disappeared. The battlefield, the pain, the regret—all of it vanished into nothingness.

And then, with a jolt, you woke up.

Instead of waking up in your bed,

You woke up on a sandy shore, face down, the gritty texture of the sand pressing against your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest as you jolted awake, not a single ounce of pain surging through your body. Confusion clouded your mind as you pushed yourself up, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

The sea whispered softly against the shore, its rhythm almost hypnotic, but your focus quickly shifted to the figure standing not too far from where you had been laying. It was a woman. She was sitting while watching the waves, her long, dark hair swaying gently in the breeze. Something about her presence felt achingly familiar.

You got to your feet, the sand shifting beneath you as you cautiously made your way toward her. As you approached, you could feel your heart racing, a strange mixture of hope and fear building inside you. You sat down beside her, your gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky met the sea.

“What’s your name?” her voice was soft, almost ethereal, as she finally spoke.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with possibilities, before you answered, “y/n. What’s yours?” Your eyes remained locked on the scenery before you, afraid to look directly at her, afraid to confront the truth.

“It’s.. Tzuyu,” she replied, her voice carrying a weight of unspoken memories.

The name struck you like a bolt of lightning. You turned to look at her, your eyes wide with shock as if the final piece of a complex puzzle had just fallen into place. She mirrored your expression, her own eyes widening in recognition.

“It’s you!?” you both exclaimed in unison, the disbelief in your voices quickly dissolving into laughter, tinged with the relief of finally understanding.

“You’re the girl in my dreams?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke. Tears began to well up in your eyes, and despite your best efforts, they started to stream down your face. You tried to smile, but the overwhelming emotions made it difficult.

“It seems so,” she replied, tears trailing down her own cheeks. “Each day I wake up missing you. I’m just… I’m just really… happy to see you, y/n!” Her voice cracked with emotion as she threw her arms around you, pulling you into a tight, desperate embrace.

“Me too, Tzuyu,” you murmured, your voice breaking as your own emotions poured out. Tears fell freely from your eyes, soaking into her shoulder. “Every morning it hurts to wake up without you.”

Tzuyu sobbed quietly into your shoulder, her body trembling against yours as if holding on for dear life. Her grip tightened, her fingers digging into your back as though afraid you might disappear if she let go.

“I just… I’m sorry—I can’t seem to remember you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with frustration and sorrow. “No matter how much I try, no matter how much I write or draw… I can’t seem to—” Her voice broke, and she buried her face deeper into your shoulder, her tears soaking through your shirt.

You felt your heart twist, a sharp pang of sadness cutting through the warmth of the moment. You gently patted her back, trying to comfort her, though you knew the weight of what she was saying. “I know, Tzuyu,” you whispered softly. “I don’t know how.. but we’re here together now. That’s what matters.”

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, her eyes still glossy with unshed tears.

“Can you remember anything before you came here?”

You furrowed your brows trying to remember, “Hmm. The last thing I remember before showing up here was… I think I was a samurai?”

Tzuyu’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath hitching slightly as your words sunk in. She gazed at you as if the pieces of a puzzle were slowly clicking into place. “You were… my protector?” she asked, her voice trembling with both wonder and disbelief.

You nodded slowly, the memories rushing back in vivid flashes—armor, sword in hand, standing at her side in a life long past. “Yes, Chou-sama.” You chuckled in disbelief and more tears trailed down your cheek as you smiled so brightly

Tzuyu’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were different—tears of recognition, of understanding, of something deeper than memory alone could explain. She cupped your face in her hands, her touch tender as she studied your features like she was trying to memorize every detail.

“I think… I think I kind of remember now,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Not everything, but pieces… glimpses of you. Moments and memories with you” She laughed softly through her tears. “It sounds crazy, but I think I’ve been searching for you across lives… across timelines”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. All the moments you’ve shared with her flashed in your mind– finally remembering. “I’ve been searching for you too. And somehow, we always find each other.” You brought your hand up to gently wipe a tear from her cheek.

“Do you think,” she anxiously began “that whenever we leave this place, do you think we’ll just forget?” she said softly, barely above a whisper

There was a pause in the air. As if you both came to the harsh realization that you’ll just be left with the longing for each other.

“I don’t want to forget.”

“What if we tried to think of a way to remember each other?” She began as if a light bulb appeared above her head “Like hmm… do you have a pen or–”

But before she could finish, something strange began to happen. The shore around you started to stretch, elongating in a way that defied all logic. The distance between you and Tzuyu grew longer and longer, pulling her away from your embrace as if some unseen force was tearing you apart.

“Wait! No-! y/n!” she cried out, her voice filled with desperation as she reached out for you. She got up and tried to run toward you, but the distance only increased, the shore stretching endlessly between you.

“Tzuyu!” you shouted back, your voice breaking with panic. You ran toward her as fast as you could, your hand outstretched, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach her. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision, but you could still see her hand reaching out for you.

“My name is Tzuyu! Please.. please don’t forget me!” she yelled, her voice trembling as she fought against the ever-expanding distance.

“y/n! It’s y/n!” you screamed, your voice echoing across the shore as you stretched your hand toward her. You were so close, almost touching her fingers—

But then you woke up.

You shot up from your couch, your heart hammering in your chest. Tears flowed down your face, the remnants of the dream still clinging to your mind like a fading mist. The emptiness beside you was unbearable, the longing for her presence too much to bear.

You were back in reality, but the pain was still there, fresh and raw, as if the dream had torn open a wound you didn’t even know you had.

“No..wait..” you trembled as tears blurred your vision “No!” you yelled in frustration causing Bread to shoot his head up from his bed that was placed next to the couch (Thanks Momo)

“What... what, god..fuck, what was her name!?” you hyperventilated as you looked at your hand that almost touched hers

“Fuck..!” you sobbed “Why can’t I remember her face? Or her name?!” frustration spilled out of you as everything seemed to be on the tip of your tongue yet unable to grasp it

The dreams stopped happening.

Looking back in hindsight, at the time they were

Frustrating.

Annoying.

Pesky even.

But now?

More than anything, you missed her—the girl who had once haunted your nights and now left your days feeling empty

To escape the aching void she left behind, you threw yourself into work, burying the longing under piles of paperwork and endless meetings.You even paid Momo ‘overtime’ as you decided to work 12-hour shifts from time to time each week. She never asked why you were suddenly working twelve-hour shifts, though the concern in her eyes said enough..

You even confided in Jihyo about the dreams—or the lack of them. She suggested you try everything from ‘shifting’ podcasts to ‘lucid dream’ vibrations on YouTube, but nothing worked. The harder you tried to dream, the more elusive sleep became.

One weekend, you overslept for an alarming number of hours. Momo let herself into your apartment to do a ‘wellness check’. Bread’s excited barks greeted her at the door, tail wagging so hard it looked like he might take off.

“y/n, you okay? It’s Momo, I’m worried” she announced making her way through your apartment while petting Bread.

She opened up your bedroom door and was greeted by a groggy you(alive and well)

“Hmm~?” you mumbled “Momo? What are you doing here? Are you okay?” You said as you plopped back into bed, stretching like a lazy cat

“Am I okay?” she huffed. “You weren’t responding to my texts like you usually do, you vampire! It’s almost 12:45!”

“12:45?!” You shot up, reaching for your phone in disbelief–blinking a couple times to focus your eyes. Sure enough, the screen glowed back at you with the time—12:37 pm.

“Yes, idiot!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever—I'm just glad you're okay. Seems like Bread’s happy you’re okay too.” she said as Bread made his way onto your bed, licking your face

“Ah~ hi baby~! Good mo- afternoon~!” you cooed at him “ Sorry for worrying you Momo, I just took melatonin a bit too late I think” you said as you shifted your focus to Momo

“Don’t worry, maybe as a thank-you, you should take him on a walk today– seems like you need the fresh air more than me” she chuckled as she settled down on the foot of your bed

“Yeah that seems like a good idea, feel like I lost half my day” you rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment

“Yeah, well.. you kinda did!” she teased

After cooking bre..lunch with Momo, you got ready for whatever was left of the day and leashed up Bread. You headed out towards the park hoping that it would clear your mind

As you made your way to the crosswalk that was in the direction of the park you usually went to, you noticed a woman on the bus. You recognized her from somewhere. Your soul pulled you to go to her but she was in the lane that was turning left.

She met your eyes and jolted towards you as the turn light turned green, causing your body to also jolt forward… only to be stopped by the cars that were driving in front of you.

Something inside of you needed to see her– yearned for her.

So you took the risk. You picked up Bread and weaved through the traffic while multiple cars honked at you.

You made it across the (seemingly) endless crosswalk, the bus she was in made a right turn and you watched her as she locked eyes with you from the back window/door of the bus as she faded into a silhouette

Defeated and broken.

You made your way to the park. You found a bench and sat down, letting Bread wander within the limits of his leash while you sank into your thoughts. Time seemed to blur as you replayed the fleeting moment over and over in your mind, wondering why it hurt so much.

The leash tugged at your hand, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Bread straining toward another dog across the park. Your eyes followed the leash to its owner, and there she was—the woman from the bus, walking two dogs of her own.

Your body moved on its own. Like she had some sort of magnet pulling you.

You finally reached her. She was a distance away but it was her. It was for sure, the woman from the bus.

Bread noticed the two dogs and pulled you closer and closer to her before reaching them.

The three of them began sniffing each other and you politely said “Oh he’s very curious, sorry” You gaze focused on the dogs, trying your best to mask the turmoil inside you

“It’s okay,” she let out “they are too”

Awkward silence hung between you, the kind that feels heavy with unspoken words. You finally broke it, the question bursting out before you could stop it.

“Have we met before?”

She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to recall. “I think… maybe… Oh—! You’re the one that bumped into me at the bookstore!” she exclaimed quietly.

A tinge of sadness settled in your heart, as if that wasn’t the right answer, or maybe it was just too mundane to explain the ache in your chest. “Oh—! Yeah, that’s right… sorry about that again.” You chuckled, but it was hollow, devoid of real humor.. You swore it wasn’t that..Or maybe it was just that. Was it?

Silence hung in the air after she whispered a quiet “it’s okay”

“Well, I'll let you get on your way. Thanks for letting Bread meet them” You said as you fought back tears before (quite literally) tugging Bread away

“No problem, I thank you too..” she called after you, her voice tinged with a sadness that matched your own.

You two began to part ways

Why did your heart hurt so bad? Why does it feel like the Earth itself is laying on your chest right now?

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you fought tooth and nail to keep walking away, lightly tugging on Bread’s harness as he also wanted to go back

You were almost to the turn out of the park before you heard a voice yell a familiar name

“Tzuyu!”

You froze, turning around slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. There she was. The lost memories of her rushed back into your mind. The woman from the bookstore, the bus, your dreams. Tears streaked her face, but she was smiling—a radiant, beautiful smile that lit up her entire face.

“My name is Tzuyu!” she said again, her voice trembling with emotion, a laugh escaping her lips as another tear raced down her dimpled cheek.

You felt your own smile forming, though it felt awkward and lopsided, as if you weren’t quite sure how to use your face anymore. “Tzuyu-ya!” you called back, your voice cracking with emotion.

“I feel… I feel like I know you!” you said, the words tumbling out of you, raw and desperate.

Her smile grew even wider, if that was possible. “I.. I feel the same way!” she replied, walking closer to you with each step.

“I think we finally found each other, Tzuyu.” You began closing the distance between you two

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she was smiling, a smile that spoke of happiness, of a future you could finally share.

“I’m so glad,” she whispered, stepping closer, her arms wrapping around you in a tight, desperate embrace. “I’m so glad I found you.”

You held her close, feeling her warmth, her heartbeat against yours while tears streamed down your face. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you, together at last.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt at peace. The dreams, the longing, the months of searching—they had all led you here, to this moment, to her.

Finally, after all this time, you were home.

#tzuyu x reader #tzuyu imagines #twice x reader #chou tzuyu #momo x reader #chou tzuyu x reader #tzuyu x f!reader #twice tzuyu #tzuyu #twice #twice moodboard #tzuyu moodboard #twice x you #tzuyu x y/n #twice icons #tzuyu imagine #kytalks #tzuyu icons #kywrites

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 7 months ago

Text

Let's Get Out Of Here

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: You've met your Dad's best friend before.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: This one was so difficult.

Warnings: Implied sexy times, Reader has a sort of family backstory, Reader's Dad had Reader very young, Reader has a good relationship with their Dad, Jake being a flirt, swearing, overuse of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 776

“And this is Jake.”

Your smile freezes on your face as your Dad gestures to his aforementioned best friend. If it wasn’t for the grounding warmth of his hand on your arm you were sure you would have had an out of body experience.

Him.

Oh fuck.

How could it be him?

“Nice to finally meet you Jake.” You nod and shake his hand when he holds his out to you.

“Likewise.” His own smile is polite, tailored to a mask of neutrality that you can see through. He’s shitting himself just as much as you are.

Your Dad laughs, thankfully oblivious to the sudden tension in air. “I’m glad you two could finally meet.”

If it wasn’t for social norms you’d turn on your heels and just march right out of there. Maybe you could hide somewhere in the crowd.

Your Father and Step-Mother were renewing their vows, and were throwing an ‘engagement’ party of sorts.

They’d long ago moved out of the town you’d grown up in, as had you and sadly your new home was further away from them than you’d have liked. So you didn’t get to see them in person as much as you wanted to.

Jake had met your Dad about four years ago, the two becoming fast friends. From what your Dad had told you Jake travelled a lot, but when they did meet up they always got on like a house on fire. He was, as well, a little camera shy. Covering his face or ducking out of the way in group photos, so the most you’d ever seen of him was the arm of his leather jacket, a blurred cap, or the scruff of curls poking just into frame.

It had become a running joke that this ‘Jake’ was either imaginary, or a spy.

Your Dad had had you young, an accident that he always called ‘his greatest achievement’. Despite his youth and the barely sixteen years between you, he had been and was a wonderful father.

Someone calls your Dad’s name and he excuses himself quickly, darting off before you even have a chance to protest.

You look after him forlornly, your shoulders slumping.

Maybe running away wasn’t such a break of social norms.

“Hi.” Jake says softly, having taken a step closer.

You turn back to him. He’s shoved his hands in his pocket, looking down before giving you an uncertain smile.

You return the gesture.

“I’m so sorry-” You blurt out.

“I didn’t know you-” He starts at the same time.

You both laugh.

“What are the odds?” He says with a shrug.

“Well, I guess a fondness for you runs in the family?”

Jake pulls a face and you laugh.

“Don’t say that.” He grins.

You try and fail to hide your smile. “Sorry.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe… if I’d told you my name?”

“Well,” you shift your weight, relaxing a little. “I didn’t tell you mine either.”

“We were a little preoccupied.”

“Hmm.” You nod and close your eyes for a second to let the wave of embarrassment pass. “The first time yeah… but I think by the sixth we probably should have.”

He laughs again. It’s a musical sound, deep and rich. Calming in its certainty. “What did you save my number as?”

Heat burns a little under your skin. “Pretty guy.”

“Pretty guy?” His eyebrows raise, but not in upset, just surprise.

“Yeah, well,” you pull a face. “You’re pretty and a guy, so…”

He puffs his chest out a little, leaning a fraction closer. “You think I’m pretty.” He teases.

You give him a sincere look. “I think you’re beautiful.”

The honesty gives him pause for just a beat before he quickly recovers. “Says you.”

“Says me?”

“Yeah, says you. You’re stunning.” He lightly touches your forearm, his fingertips just ghosting over your skin.

You swallow, trying not to get lost in his eyes. “Shut up. What do you have me saved as then?”

He grins, not breaking eye contact for a moment before he pulls out his phone and shows you your contact information. There’s a single red heart emoji listed as your name.

“I didn’t take you as a romantic.” You tease.

He chuckles, leaning close and whispering in your ear. “Haven’t been treating you right then, have I?” He softly brushes the tip of his nose along your ear and you shiver. “Let me show you just how romantic I can be?”

He leans back just enough for you to see his expression, the question in his dark eyes as he nods his head towards the venue doors.

You grin. “Let’s get out of here.”

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

If you'd like to be taken off the tag list please let me know here

#jake lockley #moon knight #moon knight mcu #jake lockley x reader #x reader #jake lockley x you #x you #jake lockley x gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #jake lockley x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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cobrakaisb · 9 months ago

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she's my new dream

summary: in a house in suburban connecticut, may castellan spends her days making peanut butter sandwiches, burnt cookies, and red kool-aid; luke spends his days at camp half-blood, dreaming of his future, an installment in the luke & angel series

word count: 1.32k

featuring: fluff with a hint of angst? or angst with a hint of fluff? you guys decide, luke’s pov!!, set pre tlt!

song lyrics at the end: i want to write you a song by one direction

italics = may castellan flashbacks, everything else = current/luke’s daydreams

the house with the blue siding and white picket fence was located on the corner of an intersection. it was surrounded by serenity, shrouded from view. most people living there ignored it; they all heard the stories about its inhabitants, or inhabitant rather. the crazy lady, who’s son went missing at nine years old. the woman who spends her days waiting for him to return, who genuinely believes that every boy in the neighborhood is her son. sometimes, when the air is hot and humid, they can smell the burnt chocolate and see the thick, gray smoke floating out the kitchen window. sometimes, when the children are riding up and down the streets on their bikes, they can hear her calling. she repeats the same name, like a prayer. luke…luke…luke

“luke,” you snap, shaking his shoulder vigorously. he jolts awake, shooting upright in his bunk. he takes a deep breath, hands fisting at the white sheets. his head whips around, back and forth. he’s trying to pinpoint the smell of burnt cookies that seems to linger in his nose because he knows she’s not here.

“luke, hey,” you say, calling his attention. seeing you, in your neon orange shirt, grounds him. he’s not at his mother’s house, he’s in cabin eleven at camp half-blood with you perched on the side of his bed. he meets your gaze, relief flooding his brown eyes. “sorry,” he mumbles. “bad dream?” you ask, looking at him inquisitively. he nods, and you don’t push him further than that, simply tracing the veins in his hands, which are still gripping at the sheets. he relaxes under your touch, finally letting go of the fabric.

the tension in his shoulders fade at the sight of your gentle smile. he feels one take over his own face, and he intertwines his fingers with yours. “everything okay?” he asks, looking at you. you shrug your shoulders, a carefree smile on your face despite the worry in your eyes. “just missing you,” you reply sheepishly, suddenly transfixed by a chip in his bed frame. luke smiles at that, his eyes full of mischief and arrogance. “oh really?” he teases, leaning his chin on your shoulder, so that his lips ghost against the shell of your ear when he speaks. you giggle at the ticklish sensation of his breath on your skin, shoving him back with a hand on his chest. “don’t be weird about it,” you say, standing up from his bed. “the only one being weird about it is you angel.”

you roll your eyes at his words, shaking your head in disbelief. “i came here to check on you, out of the kindness in my heart, and this is what i get? unbelievable castellan,” you reply, leaning down so that your arms can wrap around his neck. luke grins at your words, dimples indenting his cheeks. “you love it,” he answers, leaning his forehead against yours. the two of you stay there for a moment, basking in the close proximity and quiet atmosphere of the hermes cabin.

the door slams open, causing you to spring apart. chris storms into the cabin, a handful of other hermes boys following him. they’re all laughing and shoving each other, but one of them freezes when he notices you and luke. “thought you were sick castellan?” he teases, and the group laughs at luke’s red cheeks. “shut up andrew,” he mumbles, pushing the comforter off as he finally gets out of bed. his hand comes to rest on the small of your back as he ushers you out the door. “see you guys later,” chris calls. luke answers for the both of you with a middle finger.

“that’s not my son’s fate,” she shrieks, vigorously shaking her head. the older girl grimaces at her words, but the younger one is confused, opting to hide behind the raven haired girl instead of facing the older woman. he stands between the woman and the girls, fists clenched at his sides. he wants to reach out, comfort her, but he knows there’s no hope when she’s having one of her episodes. he doesn’t understand what she’s saying, but he has a good enough idea. he lets his eyes drift to the other side of the kitchen, where he sees a plate with a sandwich and a glass of red kool-aid.

luke watches from across the dining pavilion as you cut up the food for a younger camper. they’re blabbing away about something to you, and the whole time you’re nodding your head and smiling, hanging on to each and every word. he sees your lips moving on occasion, adding something to the story the young demigod is telling you. for a moment, he's transported through time, standing in the kitchen of a house that he doesn’t recognize. there are two young children sitting at the table, watching as you make them a sandwich. they are clearly carbon copies of the two of you, and they eagerly take the plates from your hands when you’re done making them lunch. he looks at the food one more time, and realizes that the two kids are eating peanut butter sandwiches. just like him.

“it’s our turn. get up,” chris says, shoving luke’s shoulder as he walks towards the giant firepit in the middle. luke grunts, disappointed that he couldn’t continue living out his daydream, but he stands up without a second thought. his brown eyes meet your intense stare from across the hall, and he’s met with a small smile that makes his heart burst. for the first time in a long time, he actually prays to a god, begging for his daydreams to become a reality.

his shoulders are tense, back rigid, as he sits at the dining room table. his eyes dart across the room, following the woman’s every step. she stops in front of him, placing a sandwich and glass down on the table. “eat your lunch baby,” she mumbles, fingers brushing his black curls away from his forehead. he gulps, nodding his head as opposed to speaking. she’s present, but her eyes are in a far off place, seeing things he can’t understand while her ears listen to voices that aren’t really there. he’s waiting for an episode to break out; he’s waiting for his chance to leave.

“what if we just left camp?” luke asks, turning so that he’s looking at you instead of the stars. you laugh breathily at his words, “where would we go?” he doesn’t answer, instead opting to take the moment to look into your pretty eyes, shining with mirth. you blink, lashes resting on your cheeks. he can’t help but think that you look ethereal in the moonlight. “anywhere,” he finally answers, “as long as i’m with you.” you smile at his words, turning so that you're laying on your side, completely facing him. “we could escape to the countryside,” you say, an adrift look in your eyes as your mind wanders. luke’s does too…

a small house in the countryside, with just enough room for your little family. he sees the two children, the ones from before, running around in the grassy terrain. they’re laughing and giggling, completely carefree and unaware of the struggles their parents faced. he’s sitting on a wooden swing, with his arms wrapped around your shoulder. your back is to him, feet curled up to your chest as you read a book. it’s old and well-loved, just like the two of you, but he knows better than to disturb your reading. he can hear the children yelling, begging for luke to join them in their games. “they’re calling for you angel,” you whisper, still entranced by the words on the page. he hums, kissing your shoulder as he gets up from the swing, leaving the veranda. everything is peaceful.

everything i need i get from you // and giving back is all i wanna do

#luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #pjo luke #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #luke castellan fluff #cobrakaisb writing

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caramara3 · 1 month ago

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Just Friends...? [1]

a Damian Priest x Reader Imani Cove fic

Summary: After a drunken night out, WWE Superstars and estranged friends Imani Cove and Damian Priest wake up to find themselves naked in bed together with no recollection of what happened the night before. They both choose to go on pretending as if nothing ever happened, but soon find out it’s easier said than done, especially when the lines of friendship begin to blur around them…

Warnings: plot, slow burn, angst, language, mature sexual content 18+, ofc, fluff, semi-friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.5k

**Partially Edited and Proofread**

**Interactive**

Notes: Thank y'all so much for reading!! Leave a comment, heart, share, and enjoy the ride!!!

Italic writing signifies an inside thought.

Inspired playlist for story

Chapter 1: The Morning

~Morning after Backlash Puerto Rico~

“Uugh… oww.”

You groan softly and shift your body, regretting that decision almost immediately. It’s not like being a wrestler for almost 12 years now, you weren’t used to a little soreness and tension after a match, especially one as rough as last night’s Last Woman Standing match against your current feud partner Shayna Bazler.

But Lord was this a different kind of sore.

Every single muscle in your body felt like they had been stabbed with the tiniest needle ever created while also being set on fire. Your back felt like you’d been thrown through plexiglass over a dozen times. In your mind you made a mental note to have your chiropractor send Shayna his thanks for keeping him in business.

“Ow… oww… argh, ow!”

You wince at each small movement as you open your eyes only to be met with a soft but heavy material. You begin to pull it from over your head and are immediately met with the morning sun shining its insanely bright ass through the hotel window.

“Ah, oh God! Absolutely not!”

You grimace and pull the material back over your face, sinking deeper and deeper into your fluffy fortress as you wait for the throbbing pain in your head to subside.

Great, you thought to yourself. Sore and hungover: the perfect combination.

You lay your head flat against the mattress as you try to remember the events of last night. But as you did everything felt like a jumbled and confusing blur.

Tequila is an evil bitch from the depths of hell…

You can remember leaving the arena and catching a ride back to the hotel with Zelina as well as getting ready with her to go out for the night to celebrate.

And though you really didn’t want to, you remembered the call with your lying, cheating, bastard of a now EX-fiance Marcus before leaving the hotel, demanding that he have all of his things cleared out of your home by the time you came back.

Fuck you Marcus…

You can remember getting to the club late and having shots immediately pushed in your face, the thought alone made you feel queasy as if you could still smell the Don Julio.

You can remember getting pulled onto the dancefloor by… wait was it Cruz?? No it was Carmelo.

Or maybe it was Santos.

Knight??

You can remember when your best friend Rhea arrived alongside Dominik, Finn, and JD.

More shots.

You remember kicking your shoes off somewhere on the dancefloor cause the DJ was on one that night, playing banger after banger after banger. Was this when Finn was dancing with you??

But wait, was this before or after JD stepped on your foot while you were trying to teach him how to salsa??

More shots.

You remembered some random drunk guy trying to feel up on you and Rhea. And how he damn near started a brawl with every guy on the roster because of it before getting thrown out on his drunk ass.

More dancing. More shots.

So. Many. Shots.

Dancing on the bar with Samantha & Zelina like you were in Coyote Ugly and damn near slipping off the bar.

Getting cheered on in the ladies room while you flushed your engagement ring down the toilet.

Again, fuck you Marcus.

You hadn’t seen him come in with everyone, but at one point you noticed Damian Priest sitting over in a corner all by himself. You remember… pulling his stupidly large self on the dancefloor to dance with you?

Why in the world would you do that?

Or was it some other outrageously tall good-looking guy who resembled a younger Undertaker but Puerto Rican and from the Bronx…?

Even more dancing.

Shots. Shots. Shots.

Ugh, god why did I keep letting Rhea feed me all those damn shots? I swear I’m gonna kill her next time I see her. But how did I get back to the hotel?

Suddenly a flash of a memory appeared through the blurry fog of your mind. Lights. You remember seeing lights, streaks of gold and white racing past you. Was this from the time when you were in the cab? You wrap yourself in the memory, hoping more would come back.

Touch. You remember hands. Rough, calloused hands with the softest and most gentle touch brushing against your skin, pulling you onto their lap. Their touch traveling up from your neck down your spine before resting on your bottom, kneading your ass firmly. Caressing your skin as if it had been made of silk.

Taste. You could still taste his lips on yours. You felt them traveling up your neck to your earlobe, nibbling on that tender spot that makes you weak in the knees. Your shoulder, along your collarbone, in between the valley of your breasts, softly biting your nipple, trailing down your stomach… the action sending vibrations up and down your body.

Sound. A deep and foreboding voice in your ear, whispering the dirtiest things you could ever imagine, you softly moaning against his chest as his fingers… his fingers…

“Ugh.”

You let out a soft groan and go to rub your temples, a wave of nausea washing over you as the after effects of your night out for the first time since waking up begin to set in. Just like that the memory is gone, leaving you even more frustrated but also turned on. What and who did this to you?

You can’t remember the last time you’d gotten this drunk. Yes you can, two years ago during the weekend that Marcus proposed to you. He had booked this gorgeous resort in Barbados for the two of you with a private pool overlooking the beach. The night he asked you to marry him, the two of you had gotten so drunk you ended up running down to the beach, stripping down to nothing but your bra and panties, jumped into the ocean & then…

At that thought, your eyes widened in terror and you felt your heart drop down to your stomach.

Oh. Oh god no…

You lift up the side of the ivory comforter to glance over the edge onto the floor and see clothes, namely a lacy purple thong, ripped and strewn across it.

No, no, no. Imani Jade please tell me you didn’t…

That nausea from earlier began to creep up once again. You knew you had to look, but you didn’t want to. After a few moments,several deep breaths, and inner monologue pep talks, you psych yourself up just enough to do it. You release a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding and slowly lift the comforter and gaze down at your body.

Fuck. Me.

It was bad enough that you were as naked as the day you came into the world, but from the look of things, whatever you got into last you had a pretty good time doing it. Your eyes follow down your body, navigated by the trail of small purple marks decorating your lower half.

There was one just above your collarbone and one along the valley of your breasts, thankfully blending into your sternum tattoo. One hiding just under your left nipple, two or three up the side of your hip bone just near your tattoo, and then several decorating all along your inner thighs.

Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck Imani? You’ve only been newly single for all of three days and this is how you decide to celebrate? By getting shit faced and letting some random dick cover you in hickies?!?!

You ignore your body practically screaming for you to be still and move into a seated position in the bed, hand raised to shield you from any amount of sunlight creeping in. A soft hiss leaves your mouth as you feel your bare back press itself against the cold wooden headboard. On sheer instinct you grab the sheet from the bed and pull it up to cover your body.

Oh, now we wanna be modest. It’s a little too late for that don’t you think?

You looked over to your left, expecting to find your phone on the nightstand charging, alongside your iPad with the light purple leather cover and your glasses. But your phone’s not there, neither is your purple leather covered iPad or your glasses.

Oh no. No no no no...

You look around the room, your eyes widening in shock upon the realization: this was not your room.

In fairness, after spending nearly a decade on the road it gets to a point where all the hotels you stay at begin to blend together. But no matter what you were always, ALWAYS, able to tell which was your room and which wasn’t. And this was NOT your room. None of your things were here: your gym bag with your backup ring gear for last night weren’t laid out on the couch near the window, your laptop wasn’t sitting open on the desk just as you had left it before leaving, there were no makeup or various hair products stretched out along the top of dresser, and your lavender carry-on and backpack were not tucked away in the corner by the couch.

This wasn’t your room. It was the same hotel, but a different room.

What you did notice was your purse, your dress and your heels from last night alongside a very large set of men’s clothes creating a trail that starts at the door and leads towards the foot of the bed.

You also couldn’t help but notice that there were not one…

not two…

BUT THREE shiny, reflective, and OPEN gold foil packets tossed along the ground and nightstand.

Three? Goddamn Imani… I mean, at least you were safe right? That has to count for something… right?

You let out a soft groan and bring your knees up to your chest, placing your head atop them as you try yet again to remember what happened last night.

Come on Imani, think. What exactly happened from leaving the club to getting back to the hotel that got you here? How did you get back? Who did you ride with?? Please tell me he was at least hot and very well-endowed.

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… blank space.

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… nothing.

Stadium. Club. Dancing. Shots. Bye bye ring… nada.

“Ugh. This is a nightmare.”

This wasn’t like you, you were not this kind of girl. Sure, you had a couple hookups here and there in your early twenties, not to mention the “hot girl summer” during college, but you quickly outgrew that! You were a grown-up now, and grown-ups don't do nothing so crazy where you can’t remember it actually happening! And they especially don’t hook up with random strangers while technically on a goddamn work trip!!

Through all the emotional and mental chaos currently going on in your mind, you felt a sense of heaviness across your pelvis. For the first time since waking up you notice a very large, very muscular, and very tatted arm stretched across your stomach. The sound of soft snores now filled the once quiet room, like a faint rasp blending seamlessly with the stillness of the moment.

You took a breath, held it, and slowly turned your head to the left. You didn’t see a face, but rather a large figure sleeping peacefully, engulfed in the warmth of the hotel linen.

When you went to move your hand to remove the blanket, a low grumble stops you dead in your tracks. The body under the blanket suddenly shifts and turns over on its side, their back now completely facing you, before settling after a few seconds. You froze and wait for a few seconds for the sound of soft breathing to know they were still asleep.

You hadn’t the slightest idea what you would say to if he were. It had been a long time since you’d had a one-night stand and weren’t really sure if the rules were still the same.

Do you start with a “hi” or “Good Morning random dude?” Do you thank Mr. Random Dick for the sex? Could you possibly try and sneak out before they wake up??

Like, what was the standard practice and protocol here??

Once you were absolutely sure he was asleep you grip the blanket and slowly pull it away until the whole of his back was revealed to you. You gasp loudly and practically jump up off the bed and right onto the plush carpeted floor, landing hard on your ass with a heavy thud.

“Ah, son of a bitch!” you shriek, wincing at the pain of the impact.

But you ignore the immediate pain and spring up to peek over the bed, your eyes peering over the edge of the mattress as Mr. Random Dick on the bed started to wake up. He groaned and moaned, stretching his body out as if he’d just been awoken from a long deep hibernation. You couldn’t move, all you could do was sit there like a weirdo, buck naked on the carpet watching him. He sat up and stretched yet again, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. You watched as every single muscle on his back spasmed and flexed from the movement.

But your eyes were fixated on just one thing: his back. Aside from the various crescent shape indents and the long, red scratches painted down both sides of his back, your focus was solely on the giant piece of art that was etched into the center of his back.

From afar someone could easily mistake it as just a standard skull tattoo, but up close it revealed something more. The skull made way for the inside art, resembling that of a dark grim reaper.

You’ve seen that grim reaper before. Many times in fact.

I mean why wouldn’t you? After all, the two of you worked together.

And up until about ten months ago, you had considered him to be one of your closest friends.

His eyes began to open and you quickly ducked your head back down, pressing your back to the carpet and covering your face with your hands like that would actually hide you in this moment.

This was a joke. This had to be a joke.

Some sick, twisted, perverted version of a prank that the universe was playing on you. Of all the men in the world you could have slept with, all the random dick being slung around desperately begging to be some woman's drunken mistake... why did your drunken mistake have to be with him?!?!

The room had gone a little too quiet for your liking so you peeked through your fingers, gasping as his head emerged from over the edge of bed to look down at you. His dark brown eyes widened in shock at you lying on the floor of his room; naked, disheveled, and covered in purple marks.

“Oh my god-,” he began to trail off, the panic and exhaustion seeping to the surface. His voice cracked slightly, the usual confidence he exhumed nowhere to be found.

“Imani?”

Your eyes tried to avoid his gaze, but couldn't look anywhere but his eyes. You slowly release the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding all this time, your voice soft and shaky as you spoke.

“Hey Damian.”

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