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satorulovebot · 4 months ago

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── cigarattes & whisky | ch. 02

↳ satoru gojou x suguru getou x reader

genre — angst, fluff, modern au, cowboys, 18+

word count — 7.7k

tags/warnings — drug use (smoking), profanity, alcohol, sexual tension (i’m sorry), minor sexual content (its nothing tbh)

author’s notes — so i've decided to keep this theme because it's growing on me. anyways some things happen unlike cursed seas where i can't get to the damn point but here we are. anyways enjoy some sexual tension because i can’t help myself and as always thank you for the love and rb’s are always appreciated :)

prev. welcome to lone star ranch | next. (coming soon)

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the thin curtains of your room, casting a golden hue over the worn wooden floorboards. The ranch was still quiet, the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves outside and the distant chirping of birds greeting the dawn. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, stretching in bed as you tried to shake off the soreness from sleep.

You threw on your work clothes which consisted of denim and a flannel, a comfortable fit that had quickly become your uniform since arriving at the ranch. As you laced up your boots, you could hear the faint sounds of the ranch waking up—the low hum of voices in the distance, the clatter of metal against metal as someone prepared the morning’s feed, the soft snorts and whinnies of the horses in the stables.

Stepping outside, you were greeted by the crisp morning air. You took a deep breath, savoring the clean, earthy scent of the ranch—the smell of hay, leather, and the faint scent of sweat and dirt.

You headed toward the stables, your boots crunching on the gravel path as you walked. The early morning was your favorite time of day here; the ranch was peaceful. It was a time to gather your thoughts and to center yourself before the day’s work began.

As you approached the stables, you spotted Getou already at work as he tended to the horses. His long hair was pulled back in a loose bun, a few strands escaping to frame his face as he moved about.

“Morning,” you called out as you approached, your voice cutting through the quiet.

Getou glanced up giving you a nod. “Morning.”

You stepped into the stables and the horses nickered softly as you approached, their large, expressive eyes watching you with curiosity. You reached out to pat the nose of one of the horses, a beautiful Mustang with a buckskin coat. He snorted softly, leaning into your touch.

Getou continued to work as he checked the horses, making sure they were fed and watered before the day’s work began. You watched him for a moment as you admired the way he seemed to have a connection with the animals, a quiet understanding that required no words.

“You’re getting the hang of things,” Getou said after a while, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

You glanced over at him, surprised by his comment. “Thanks,” you replied, feeling a small sense of pride at his words.

Getou didn’t say anything more, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanor. It wasn’t much, but coming from him, it felt really good.

The two of you continued to work in silence. The tasks were simple—feeding the horses, cleaning the stalls, and preparing the tack. As you finished up, you caught sight of Satoru approaching from the direction of the main house.

“Hey, you two look like you’re having fun,” Satoru called out as he neared, his voice laced with that familiar teasing tone.

You rolled your eyes, already bracing yourself for whatever bullshit he had lined up. “Just getting work done,” you muttered.

Satoru grinned, leaning casually against the doorframe of the stable. “And doing a damn fine job of it, if I do say so myself,” he said, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that made your skin prickle

“Are you here to help or just to stand around and watch?” you shot back.

Satoru’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, I’m definitely here to help. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m just some lazy ranch owner who lets everyone else do the hard work.”

He pushed off from the doorframe and stepped closer and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You could see the way his eyes seemed to linger on you just a little too long.

Getou, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally spoke up. “We’ve got it under control, Satoru.”

Satoru raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Getou’s intervention. “I’m sure you do, Suguru,” he replied, his voice laced with mock seriousness. “But I think our new ranch hand could use a bit of extra motivation today.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, sensing he was up to something. “And what kind of motivation are we talking about?”

Satoru's grin turned sly, and he leaned in closer, his voice dropping, “How about a little challenge? I’ve got a group of horses that need rounding up from the far pasture. Think you can handle it?”

It was a test, plain and simple. Satoru was pushing you, seeing if you were really up to the task. The far pasture was on rough terrain, and the horses there were known for being particularly aggressive.

But there was no way you were going to back down now, not with Satoru watching. “I can handle it.”

“Good,” Satoru said, his grin widening. “Then let’s see what you’ve got.”

With that, he turned and strode out of the stable, clearly expecting you to follow. You hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Getou, who was watching you with that same unreadable expression.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked quietly.

You squared your shoulders, “I’ll be fine,” you said. If you were being honest, it was more to convince yourself than him.

You followed Satoru out of the stable, the morning sun climbing higher into the sky as the warmth began to chase away the last remnants of the cold morning. The ranch was fully awake now, with the sounds of activity filling the air—workers shouting to one another, horses being led out to the fields, the clanging of metal from the little blacksmith shed.

As you trailed behind Satoru, you couldn’t help but feel that you weren’t ready. The far pasture was no joke. The horses out there were notorious for their stubbornness and unpredictable behavior. It was the kind of job that demanded experience and a steady hand—neither of which you were sure you had.

But you couldn’t afford to show any weakness, not in front of Satoru. He might have been charming and playful most of the time, but you knew better than to underestimate him. Beneath that carefree exterior, there was a sharp mind always calculating, always testing the people around him. And right now, you were the one under the microscope.

You caught up to him as he reached the corral, where a few of the ranch hands were already saddling up the horses. Satoru turned to you, “You ready for this?” he asked, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it that made you pause.

“Always.”

Satoru’s lips twitched into a smirk, but there was a glint in his eyes that told you he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Let’s see if that holds up,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for you to catch.

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you shot back, surprising even yourself with the sharpness of your words.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by your tone, but the smirk never left his face. “That’s the spirit,” he said, “Let’s get this show on the road, then.”

You bit back any further retort, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you riled up. Instead, you focused on the task at hand, quickly grabbing a saddle and preparing one of the horses. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t afford to let your nerves get the better of you—not now.

Satoru was already on his horse by the time you were mounted up on yours. His was a sleek black stallion that looked just as unruly as the horses you were about to round up. He sat tall in the saddle with that damn smirk still plastered on his face.

“Try to keep up,” he called over to you.

You didn’t bother responding, instead digging your heels into the horse’s sides and urging it into a trot. Following Satoru out of the corral, the two of you began heading toward the far pasture. The path was narrow, bordered by thick brush and the occasional jutting rock that you had to steer around carefully.

After what felt like an eternity, you reached the edge of the far pasture. The land opened up into a wide expanse, the grass tall and golden under the midday sun. You could see the horses in the distance, a small group of them grazing near a cluster of trees.

Satoru reined in his horse, glancing over at you. “Alright, here’s the deal,” he said, his tone turned serious for once. “We need to get them back to the main corral. They’re likely to scatter if we spook them, so we’ll have to be quick and precise.”

“No shit,” you muttered under your breath, but Satoru either didn’t hear you or chose to ignore it.

He continued, his eyes scanning the pasture. “You’ll take the left flank, I’ll take the right. We’ll drive them in together, but keep your wits about you. These bastards are known for being unpredictable.”

“Got it,” you breathed as you gripped the reins tightly.

Satoru gave you a quick nod before spurring his horse into motion, veering off to the right. You took a deep breath and did the same, guiding your horse to the left as you began to circle the group of horses.

As you closed in on them, you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. The horses were already getting skittish, their heads jerking up as they caught sight of you and Satoru moving in on them.

“Easy,” you murmured, your voice low and soothing as you tried to keep your horse calm. The last thing you needed was for your mount to panic and throw you off.

Moving in closer, your eyes locked onto the horse as you and Satoru began to corral them, closing the gap between the two of you.

But then, as if on cue, one of the horses—a large mare with a dark-colored coat and a wild look in its eyes—snorted loudly and bolted. The rest of the group followed suit as they scattered in all directions.

“Ah Shit!” you cursed, digging your heels into your horse’s sides as you took off after them.

Satoru was already chasing after the runaway horses as you followed suit you could feel the wind whipping past your face as you raced to catch up.

You caught the bay-colored horse first by cutting it off before it could disappear into the trees. The horse came to a stop, its eyes wide in fear but you managed to keep it from running away again and slowly guided it back toward the main group.

“Nice work!” Satoru shouted from across the field as he brought his group of horses under control.

Little by little, you and Satoru managed to round up all the horses and guide them back toward the pasture. Finally, After what felt like hours, you managed to get all the horses into the paddock.

You sat back in your saddle as your chest heaved from trying to catch your breath. You were exhausted and your entire body was sore from your efforts.

You’d done it.

Satoru made his way over to you, looking just as worn out as you were. But there was a look in his eyes that told you he was proud of you.

“Well, shit,” he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “You actually pulled it off.”

You managed to give him a tired smile, wiping the sweat from your brow. “I told you I could handle it.”

Satoru chuckled lowly, “Guess I’ll have to start taking you seriously, then.”

For a moment neither of you spoke.

Finally, Satoru broke the silence, “Come on, let’s get these horses back to the corral. We’ve earned ourselves a break.”

You nodded turning your horse around to start the journey back to the ranch house. Satoru and his horse fell into the same rhythm as you and your horse. The two of you rode in silence for a while until you neared the main buildings.

As you approached the corral, Satoru reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar silver case. He flipped it open with one hand, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it all while still holding the reigns. The scent of tobacco filled the air as he took a long drag, gray smoke curling lazily in the air.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened at the sight. There was something so alluring about the way he smoked like he was so unbothered by what just happened.

But you weren't going to let him get under your skin. Not this time.

When the two of you reached the corral, the other ranch hands hurried over to take the horses. Satoru slid off his horse—effortlessly, of course—before handing the reins off. You followed suit in getting off the horse, or you tried to, as your legs were aching from the ride, and you almost fell flat on your face.

"Careful there," Satoru teased, the cigarette hanging lazily from his lips as he leaned against the fence, watching you with an infuriatingly amused expression. "Wouldn’t want you face-planting in front of the boys. They might start thinking you’re just here to look pretty."

You shot him a glare "Fuck off.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Ooh, feisty. I like it when you talk dirty."

You rolled your eyes, unwilling to let him get a rise out of you. "You’re unbelievable, you know that?"

"Believe it, darlin'," he replied with a wink, taking another drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out slowly. "But I gotta admit, you handled yourself out there. I might have underestimated you."

You narrowed your eyes at him, crossing your arms over your chest. "Damn right you did."

He grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "How about I make it up to you? We can head over to the saloon, and grab a drink. My treat. You know, as a peace offering for being such an asshole earlier."

You hesitated, the offer tempting even though you knew it was just another one of his games. Satoru wasn’t the type to apologize sincerely, and you doubted this was anything more than an excuse to mess with you further. But the idea of a cold drink after the morning’s ordeal was hard to resist.

"Fine," you said finally, "But don’t think this means I’m letting you off the hook."

Satoru chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar."

The walk to the saloon was quiet, the ranch bustling with activity around you. Workers nodded in greeting as you passed, their faces a mix of curiosity and surprise. It wasn’t often they saw Satoru heading to the saloon with anyone other than his usual crowd, and you couldn’t help but feel their eyes on you as you walked alongside him.

The walk to the saloon was quiet, with the ranch bustling with activity around you. You had no idea there was a saloon here, but considering the closest town is a 45-minute drive, you shouldn’t be that surprised. You learned it was owned by one of the other ranch owners in the area.

When you reached the saloon, Satoru held the door open for you, a gesture that you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at. The interior was dimly lit, the air filled with the scent of whiskey and tobacco. A few of the ranch hands were already there, sitting at the bar or playing cards at the scattered tables.

Satoru led you to a table near the back, away from the others, pulling out a chair for you.

"Such a gentleman," you muttered, taking the seat anyway.

"Only the best for you, sweetheart," he replied with a wink before heading to the bar to grab your drinks.

He returned a moment later with two glasses of whiskey, setting one down in front of you before taking the seat across from you. He leaned back in his chair as he took a sip of his drink.

"To surviving the wild ones," he said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You clinked your glass against his, taking a sip of the whiskey. The burn of the alcohol was a welcome distraction, cutting through the lingering tension in your muscles.

"Not bad," you admitted, setting the glass down.

Satoru’s smile softened slightly, "You’re tougher than you look, you know that?"

"Thanks, I guess.” You were unsure of how to take the compliment.

He shrugged, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Just calling it like I see it."

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, the noise of the saloon fading into the background. For the first time since you’d met him, Satoru wasn’t pushing your buttons just to see how you’d react. Instead, he seemed content to just sit there with you.

After a while, Satoru set his glass down. "You ever think about why you came out here?" he asked, his voice low enough that no one else could hear.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated before answering. "I… I wanted a fresh start," you said finally, your voice quieter than you’d intended. "Needed to get away from everything back home."

Satoru nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "Yeah, I figured as much. This place has a way of drawing in folks who are looking to escape something."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the conversation suddenly feeling too heavy, too close to the truth you weren’t ready to face. "What about you?" you asked, trying to shift the focus away from yourself.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "Oh, I’ve got my reasons. But that’s a story for another time."

You didn't push the subject further, sensing that whatever lay behind his carefree facade was something he wasn't ready to share. Instead, you finished your drink in silence, letting the warmth of the whiskey settle in your chest.

When your glasses were empty, Satoru stood up and tossed a few bills onto the table. "Come on, let’s head back.”

You followed him out of the saloon, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the ranch. As you reached the stables, Satoru turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You did well today.”

"Thanks," you replied, feeling your face flush at his words.

He gave you one last smile before heading off to take care of his horse, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

So… Satoru and Getou decided you should learn how to shoot a gun. Not their brightest idea but you decided to go along with it. Besides what’s the worst that could happen? You had some experience with a gun.

As you walked alongside Satoru and Getou you were heading toward the far end of the property where a makeshift shooting range had been set up.

Satoru sauntered beside you with his usual cocky grin in place. Getou walked on your other side and you could feel him watching you, waiting to see how you would handle yourself.

The range was a simple setup with a few targets spaced out in the distance. Satoru leaned against the fence, arms crossed over his chest, the ever-present cigarette dangling from his lips as he took a long drag.

“You ever shot before?” Satoru asked.

“A few times,” you replied. The truth was, you weren’t an expert, but you weren’t completely inexperienced either.

“Let’s see what you’ve got then,” he said, pushing off the fence and moving to the side, giving you a clear shot at the targets.

Getou stepped forward, holding out a revolver for you to take. His hand brushed against yours as you grabbed the gun. You glanced up at him, catching the briefest hint of a smirk before his expression returned to its usual calm mask.

“Don’t let Satrou’s bullshit get to you,” Getou murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Just focus on the target.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you turned your attention to the range. You took a deep breath to steady yourself before raising it, lining up your shot with the first target.

The air seemed to still be around you as you squeezed the trigger, the sound of the gunshot echoing through the open field. The recoil was stronger than you expected, but you kept your grip steady. Walking up to the target, you saw that you had hit it—barely, but it was a hit.

“Not bad,” Satoru drawled, “But you’re gripping it too tight. You gotta relax a little, let the gun do some of the work.”

You resisted the urge to snap back at him, knowing that he was right. Instead, you nodded, adjusting your grip slightly before aiming at the next target.

This time, the shot was cleaner, the bullet hitting closer to the center. You allowed yourself a small smile of satisfaction, the tension in your shoulders easing just a bit.

“Better,” Getou said, his tone approving as he moved to stand beside you. “But you’re still hesitating. Don’t overthink it.”

You shot him a sidelong glance, your heartbeat quickening as you noticed how close he was standing—close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough that you could smell the faint scent of tobacco and leather clinging to him.

“You wanna show her how it’s done, Suguru?” Satoru’s voice interrupted your thoughts, and you turned to see him watching the two of you with a knowing smirk, the cigarette between his fingers smoldering as he took another drag.

Getou didn’t respond immediately, but you saw the subtle shift in his expression. He took the revolver from you, his fingers brushing against yours again, and the contact sent another shiver down your spine. He stepped forward and raised the gun.

The sound of the shot was sharp and precise, and when you looked at the target, you saw that Getou had hit it dead center. He lowered the gun, turning to you with a calm, almost bored expression, as if what he’d just done was no big deal.

“Like that,” he said simply, handing the revolver back to you.

There was no denying that Getou was good—damn good—but it wasn’t just his skill that had your heart racing. It was the way he’d looked at you, the way he’d stood so close, the way he’d silently challenged you to match him.

“Don’t let him show you up, now,” Satoru teased, his voice laced with amusement as he flicked the cigarette butt onto the ground and crushed it under his boot. He moved to stand on your other side, close enough that you could feel the brush of his arm against yours. “You’ve got it in you. Just gotta let go a little.”

The tension between the three of you crackled like electricity, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. You knew they were both testing you, pushing you to see how far you could go, and you weren’t about to back down.

Taking a deep breath, you raised the revolver again, forcing yourself to block out the distractions, to focus solely on the target. The weight of Satoru and Getou’s gazes on you was heavy, almost suffocating, but you used it and channeled it into the shot as you squeezed the trigger.

The gun kicked in your hand, and you held your breath as you watched the bullet hit the target, this time dead center. A surge of satisfaction coursed through you, and you couldn’t help the small, triumphant smile that tugged at your lips.

“There you go,” Satoru said. He reached out, his fingers brushing the back of your hand as he took the revolver from you. The touch was fleeting, but it lingered, the warmth of his skin searing into yours.

Think you can keep up, Getou?”

Getou’s response was a slow, knowing smile, the kind that made your heart skip a beat. “Try me.”

The two men squared off, the playful banter between them masking the intensity that simmered beneath the surface. They each took their turns, shooting at the targets with a skill that left you both impressed and unnerved. It was clear they’d done this many times before, the ease with which they handled the guns was a testament to their experience.

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting long shadows across the range as the last shot echoed through the air. Satoru and Getou lowered their guns, turning to you with matching smirks that made your pulse quicken.

“Not bad, huh?” Satoru said with a lazy grin on his face.

“Could be better.”

Getou chuckled, the sound low and rich as he moved to stand on your other side. “You did good today.”

Silence then filled the air.

“We should head back.” Satoru was the first one to break the silence.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as the three of you began the walk back to the ranch house.

As you walked, Satoru reached into his pocket, pulling out another cigarette and lighting it with a practiced flick of his lighter. He took a long drag, the end glowing brightly in the fading light, before exhaling a cloud of smoke into the cool evening air.

He then offered the cigarette to you. You hesitated for a moment before taking it, your fingers brushing against his as you brought it to your lips. The taste of tobacco was sharp on your tongue.

You handed the cigarette back to Satoru as he took another drag, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips. Getou watched the exchange in silence.

As the three of you continued the walk back to the ranch, the sun finally dipped below the horizon, leaving you in the soft evening light.

But as you glanced at Satoru and Getou, both of them walking silently beside you, you knew that the day’s events had only deepened the tension between you. Something in your gut told you this was just the start, that whatever was simmering beneath the surface was far from over.

There was a storm brewing, one that had been building since the moment you set foot on the ranch. And as much as you tried to resist it, you knew that it was only a matter of time before it broke.

You had been told that you would finally get to meet the rest of the ranch hands. After all, these were the people you’d be working with closely, day in and day out.

As you approached the stables, you spotted Satoru and Getou standing off to the side, deep in conversation. They noticed you almost immediately and Satoru waved you over.

“Morning,” Satoru called out, his voice as cheerful as ever. “Ready to meet the rest of the crew?”

You nodded, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

Getou gave you a small nod of acknowledgment before leading the way into the stables.

The first person you met was Toji. He was leaning against the wooden fence, his arms crossed over his chest. His dark hair was tousled, and his sharp green eyes observed you as you approached. You could tell he was someone who didn’t take shit from anyone.

“So, you’re the new recruit,” Toji said, his voice low and rough. “Name’s Toji. I handle the tougher jobs around here.”

You nodded, offering a small smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Toji’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he gave a curt nod and turned his attention back to the horses. It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, but it wasn’t cold either—more like a test, as if he was waiting to see how you’d fit in.

Next, you were introduced to Nanami. He was the complete opposite of Toji in every way. Tall and composed, with blond hair neatly slicked back. He seemed almost out of place. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and slacks, looking more like he belonged in an office rather than out in the fields.

“Nanami,” he introduced himself with a firm handshake. “I oversee the financial and logistical aspects of the ranch.”

You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. “On top of working here?”

Nanami gave a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yes, it’s a multifaceted job. I prefer to keep things in order.”

It was clear that Nanami’s attitude was a stark contrast to Satoru’s attitude.

Moving on, you were introduced to Sukuna, who was perched on a wooden crate, sharpening a knife. His striking tattoos and piercing red eyes made him impossible to miss. He looked up as you approached, his lips curling into a smirk that was anything but friendly.

“Sukuna,” he drawled, his voice a low rumble. “I take care of the less pleasant tasks around here.”

You didn’t need to ask what those tasks were. You could feel his eyes on you long after you moved on, the weight of his gaze unsettling.

Next, you met Megumi. He was younger than the others, with dark, spiky hair and a brooding expression that made him look older than he actually was. Despite his serious demeanor, there was something about him that reminded you of Getou.

“Megumi,” he said simply, not offering much more than that.

You smiled, trying to ease the tension. “It’s nice to meet you, Megumi.”

He gave a small nod but didn’t say anything else, his attention already shifting back to the task at hand.

Yuuji, on the other hand, was a breath of fresh air. With his bright pink hair and infectious smile, he was the opposite of Megumi in every way. He approached you with an easygoing grin, offering a handshake that turned into a friendly pat on the back.

“Yuuji Itadori! I’m usually around wherever there’s work to be done,” he said with a laugh. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. Yuuji’s energy was very contagious, and you had a feeling the two of you would get along.

Next was Yuuta. He was a bit more reserved and soft-spoken. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he introduced himself.

“Yuuta Okkotsu,” he said, his voice quiet but sincere. “I handle the medical care for the animals and sometimes the people around here.”

Shokou, the ranch’s medic, was the next person you met. She was lounging against the stable wall, cigarette in hand.

“Shokou Ieiri,” she said with a lazy wave, taking a drag from her cigarette. “I’m the one you’ll come to if you get hurt. Just try not to do anything too stupid.”

You chuckled, appreciating her dry humor. “I’ll do my best.”

Finally, you met Nobara and Yuki. Nobara was a fiery redhead and very confident. She greeted you with a firm handshake and a sharp look that said she didn’t tolerate anyone’s shit.

“Nobara Kugisaki,” she said. “I’m in charge of supplies and making sure everything runs smoothly around here.”

Yuki Tsukumo, on the other hand, was more laid-back than the rest. She leaned against the stable door, her hands in her pockets as she introduced herself.

“Yuki,” she said simply. “I’m usually around, helping out wherever I’m needed.”

Yuki reminded you a lot of Satoru, but more grounded.

Satoru clapped his hands together, breaking the tension. “Well, now that introductions are out of the way, let’s get to work!”

You found yourself in the ranch house's kitchen later that evening, the warm glow of the overhead lights creating a cozy atmosphere. After the long day, you were grateful for a moment of peace. As you reached for a glass of water, the creak of the wooden floorboards alerted you to someone else’s presence.

Turning, you saw Getou leaning casually against the doorway. He was holding a bottle of whisky and two glasses, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.

“Thirsty?” he asked, lifting the bottle slightly as he stepped into the room.

You smiled, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. “Depends on what you’re offering.”

Getou chuckled softly, “Whisky. Thought you might need something stronger after today.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And what makes you think that?”

He shrugged, setting the glasses down on the table and pouring a generous amount into each. “I’ve seen how overwhelming it can be, being the new one on the ranch. Figured you might want some company.” You stepped closer, taking the glass he offered and meeting his gaze as you did.

“Thanks, Suguru,” you said, testing the waters with his first name.

A spark of surprise flashed in his eyes. “So, we’re on a first-name basis now?”

You shrugged, taking a sip of the whisky. “Why not? We’re going to be working together, after all.”

“True. I guess it’s only fair. And you can call me Suguru.”

As you took another sip, Suguru stepped closer. You could smell the faint scent of his cologne, it was earthy and warm and mingled with the whisky in the air. It was intoxicating, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way that you hadn’t expected.

“So,” he began, his voice a low murmur, “what do you think of the ranch so far?”

“It’s...different. A lot to take in, but it’s good. Everyone’s been...interesting.”

Suguru’s lips twitched in amusement. “Interesting? That’s one way to put it.”

“Well, you’ve got quite the cast of characters here. But I guess you know that.”

He nodded, his expression softening slightly. “Yeah, we’re a bit of a diverse crew, but we get the job done. And now you’re part of that crew.”

“I hope I can keep up.”

“I’m sure you will,” Suguru said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’ve got that fire in you. I can see it.”

Suguru’s eyes flicked to your lips, just for a second, before returning to meet yours. The gesture was so subtle that you might have missed it if you weren’t already hyper-aware of every movement, every breath.

“Tell me,” he continued, his voice a low rumble, “what made you come to the Lone Star Ranch?”

“I needed something different. A change of scenery,” you said finally, your voice quiet. “Wanted to leave some things behind.”

“Running from something?”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

“We all have our reasons for being here. Some of us are running, too.”

There was a vulnerability in his words that you hadn’t expected. He was sharing a piece of you with himself and that put a small smile on your face.

“You don’t seem like the running type,” you said, your voice softer now.

“Maybe not.”

Suguru took another sip of his whisky, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’re stronger than you think y’know,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Don’t let this place—or anyone here—make you doubt that.”

Suguru’s gaze softened, and he set his glass down on the table, stepping even closer and you could feel the heat radiating from his body.

“Remember,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, “if you ever need anything—anything at all—you can come to me.”

There was no mistaking the double meaning in his words, the unspoken offer hanging in the air between you. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to form a coherent response.

Your breath hitched as your heart pounded in your chest. There was no mistaking in the meaning of his words.

Before you could say anything, Suguru reached out and brushed his hand against your cheek. His touch was warm and you could feel his calloused hands from the years of hard work.

For a moment, it felt like time stood still, the world outside the kitchen fading into the background.

Then, just as quickly as it began, the moment passed. Suguru pulled back, his expression shifting to something more guarded.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

You nodded, unable to find your voice as you watched him turn and walk away, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

The walls you’d put up, the distance you’d tried to keep, had started to crumble, and it scared you more than you wanted to admit.

You stayed rooted to the spot in the kitchen, the warmth from the whisky doing little to quell the rush of emotions that surged within you. The room was quiet now, save for the ticking of a clock on the wall, but the air was still thick with the lingering presence of Suguru. His words echoed in your mind, each one laced with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.

You could still feel the phantom touch of his fingers against your cheek, the warmth of his hand that had sent shivers down your spine. It had been a brief, almost fleeting gesture, but it carried a weight that was hard to ignore. The subtle brush of skin against skin had left a mark that you couldn’t shake, a sensation that seemed to burrow beneath your skin and linger long after he’d stepped away.

You knew Suguru was reserved, a man of few words who rarely let anyone in. But in that moment, he had opened a door—just a crack—and allowed you a glimpse of something deeper, something raw and unguarded. It made you want to step through that door, to explore the uncharted territory that lay beyond it.

But you were also wary. The ranch was already a place full of tension and unspoken dynamics, and you didn’t want to complicate things further. You weren’t sure where you stood with Suguru—or with anyone else on the ranch, for that matter. The last thing you wanted was to get entangled in something you couldn’t easily walk away from.

As you took another sip of whisky, trying to steady your nerves, you heard the faint creak of the floorboards again. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced toward the doorway, half-expecting to see Suguru standing there, his dark eyes watching you with that same expression he always had plastered on his face.

But the doorway was empty.

Your hand tightened around the glass as you replayed the conversation in your mind. Suguru had been careful with his words. The way he’d looked at you, the way he’d stepped closer, closing the distance between you, had made it clear that his intentions weren’t entirely innocent.

You were used to having control, to knowing exactly where you stood and what you wanted. But here, with Suguru, everything was like you were walking a tightrope with no clear idea of what waited at the other end.

The whisky burned slightly as it slid down your throat. You placed the glass on the table, the clink of the glass against wood echoing in the quiet room.

As you stood there, lost in your thoughts, you heard the sound of footsteps again. You turned toward the doorway, your heart pounding in your chest.

Suguru was back.

“I forgot something.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

He stepped into the room, his movements were slow and measured, as if he was trying to gauge your reaction. “This.”

Suguru was in front of you before you could fully process his words. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours as he took the empty glass from your grip. Slowly, Suguru placed the glass on the table beside the whisky bottle.

“You’re not as easy to read as I thought,” Suguru said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. “But that just makes things more interesting.”

You swallowed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. “And what exactly do you think you’re reading?”

Suguru’s lips curved into a slow smile. “I think you know.”

As quickly as it started, it ended. Suguru pulled back and took a step back putting distance between the two of you. Somehow you couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

“Goodnight.”

And then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there with your heart racing and your mind spinning.

The door clicked shut behind him, and you were alone once more. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You hadn’t moved from the spot where Suguru had left you. The whisky sat untouched on the table. Forgotten.

Then, you heard it—a soft creak of the floorboards just outside the kitchen. You weren’t sure how long he’d been there, watching, but there was no mistaking the person standing in the doorway.

Satoru.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air was thick like there was a taut string that could snap at any second. You weren’t sure if you should say something, break the silence that hung between you, or you should wait for him to make the first move. Your breath was shallow, your senses heightened to every small sound, every subtle shift in the atmosphere.

And then, slowly, deliberately, Satoru stepped into the room. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, his gaze flicking from you to the door Suguru had left through, and then back to you.

“I saw you,” he said finally.

“Didn’t think you’d make a move so fast, Suguru,” Satoru continued, “I thought I’d get a turn first.”

Before you could process his words, another figure appeared in the doorway—Suguru. He came back, though you didn't how long he’d been standing there.

“You always were impatient, Satoru,” Suguru breathed. “But I suppose there’s enough of her to go around.”

Satoru’s eyes darkened, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Well, then,” he said, taking a step closer to you. “Let’s see if she can handle both of us.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as Satoru closed the distance between you in one fluid motion. His hand came up to cup your jaw bringing his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, your pulse quickening as he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin.

But before Satoru could close the gap completely, Suguru moved in from the other side. You felt his presence at your back, the warmth of his body seeping into yours as he slid his arms around your waist, pulling you back against him. His breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Relax,” Suguru murmured, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. “Let us take care of you.”

Satoru’s hand slid down from your jaw to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back slightly. His lips hovered just above yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath, but he didn’t kiss you—yet.

“Tell me,” Satoru murmured, his voice low and husky. “Do you want this?”

It was a loaded question, and you knew it. They both wanted you—there was no mistaking that—but they were giving you the choice, the power to decide if you wanted to do this. And despite the fear of what might happen next, there was a part of you that craved it, that wanted to see what would happen.

You nodded, your voice barely more than a whisper as you replied, “Yes.”

That single word was all it took. Satoru’s lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss, his hand tightening in your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a ferocity that made your head spin. The taste of him was intoxicating and you found yourself leaning into the kiss, your hands fisting in his shirt as you pulled him closer.

At the same time, Suguru’s hands roamed over your body, his touch calm and calculated. His lips found the pulse point at your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against your skin that sent waves of pleasure through your body. You arched against him, the sensation of his lips and Satoru’s kiss overwhelming your senses, drowning out everything but the feel of them against you.

Satoru broke the kiss first, his breath ragged as he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice a rough whisper.

Before you could respond, Suguru turned you in his arms, pulling you away from Satoru and into his embrace. His lips found yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that was the complete opposite of Satoru’s. Suguru’s kiss was deep and thorough, his tongue exploring your mouth with a patience that made your toes curl.

Satoru didn’t seem to mind sharing—if anything, he seemed to enjoy the sight of Suguru kissing you. His hands found their way to your hips, his touch possessive as he pulled you back against him. The sensation of being sandwiched between the two men, their hands and lips claiming you in different ways, was almost too much to bear.

Satoru’s lips found the side of your neck, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin as Suguru continued to kiss you, his hands sliding up your sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The combination of their touches, their kisses, was dizzying, and you found yourself lost in the sensation, in the heat that built between the three of you.

Eventually, Suguru broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath. His dark eyes were full of lust as he looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist.

“We’re just getting started,” Suguru said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine. “You sure you’re ready for this?”

You didn’t hesitate this time. “Yes,” you breathed, the word escaping your lips before you could think better of it.

Satoru chuckled, the sound low. “That’s what I like to hear.”

taglist status: open

#series: cigarettes and whisky #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto #getou suguru x reader #getou x you #geto x reader

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writingforstraykids · 11 months ago

Note

Sorry, It’s the piss anon here, I was at work. I hope the ask didn’t make you uncomfortable, but I was thinking more like Minho? I feel like he would have a very big omorashi kink for some reason… maybe that’s just me projecting. I’m not really into the whole piss drinking or anything, just more so the bladder control aspect of it. Also, do you have anons? Can I be 🌱?

-🌱

I've decided to delete my former answer and put it here directly, I hope you find it😂

Pairing: Minchan | OT8

Word Count: 866

Minho shifts in his seat a little and nervously glances around the room, but no one seems to have noticed. He takes a deep breath and tries to focus on something other than the pressure on his bladder. Shifting forward, he puts down his bottle of water and bites his lower lip.

“You don't wanna try some lemonade?” Chan asks him, and Minho shakes his head. “Rude.”

“How is that rude?” he asks, hoping he doesn't sound as strained as he thinks he does.

“Well…they prepared this for us, take a few sips at least,” he says quietly and Minho shivers at the authoritative tone.

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes and takes the cup from him, bringing it up to his lips shakily. He takes a few small sips and subconsciously presses his legs together tightly.

“You're okay?” Chan eyes him suspiciously.

“Mhm,” Minho hums and pushes himself up. “I'll go use the bathroom real quick.” He throws the door closed behind himself and can't hold back the soft moan escaping his lips. He braces himself on the sink and takes a deep breath. Pressing his hips forward his dick meets the sink and a loud moan escapes him. His head hangs low as he tries to focus. He shouldn't indulge in the delicious feeling of holding it all in for too long and getting back to his friends but it feels so good. Minho can feel his breathing picking up and suddenly feels too hot in his clothes.

“Min?” Chan asks confused, spotting him. “You're okay?”

“I'm fine,” he groans and shifts a little, trying so badly to hold it in.

Chan steps beside him and naturally places his hand on his lower back. “Baby?” he tries gently,, and Minho moans in response. A soft chuckle escapes Chan as he realizes it sounds like he's enjoying himself. “What did you do?”

“Huh?” Minho asks and reaches up, unbuttoning his collar shakily.

“You're horny, aren't you?” he asks, and Minho doesn't try to deny it anymore.

“Yes hyung, I'm fucking horny because no one has touched me in weeks,” he says and can't quite stop himself. “I haven't been using the bathroom all day because it feels good to try and hold it in.”

Chan stares at him amazed, and steps right behind him. “You're so needy you're starting to challenge yourself, huh?” He slips his hand into Minho's shirt, rubbing his chest and kisses the back of his neck. The effect that simple touch has on him makes him giggle. Minho presses back against him with a gasp, grip around the sink growing tight. “You could've told me.”

“You know I don't like to beg,” Minho says dryly, and his eyes roll back in his head as Chan cups him through his pants. A surprised moan leaves him as he slips his hand into his pants, collecting all the leaking precum and starting to stroke him.

“We'll see about that. Want you to keep holding it until we're done with the interview and back home,” he told him.

“Channie, that's-,” he breaks off with another moan and needily thrusts into his fist. “That's another two hours.”

“That's right, pretty boy. If you're good, I'll take care of you later, yeah?”

“O-Okay,” he stammers.

He has a hard time focusing during the interview and when he realizes what's today's game he's about to quit. Answer the question or drink - very personal questions.

Minho sits down opposite of Chan as it's their turn and Chan grins at him before picking the first question. “You've ever kissed a guy?”

Minho bites back a groan and takes the first shot. The game goes on and somehow he ends up getting the dumbest questions out of everyone. By the end of it, he stumbles back to their private area and braces himself on his knees with a soft groan, trying to be good for Chan.

“You're okay, Minho hyung?” Hyunjin asks suspiciously as the rest shuffles inside.

“Mhm,” he hums, staying as he is and squeezing his eyes shut for a brief moment.

“You're sure?” Jisung asks, frowning at him.

“I'm okay,” Minho nods and straightens up.

“Someone's feeling hot,” Felix points out, spotting the sweat coating his forehead.

Chan laughs and steps behind Minho, pulling him in. “Well, our Minho feels a little full right now, don't you?”

Minho blushes heavily and nods. “Yes, Channie hyung.”

“Wanna tell them what you're doing?” he asks, and Minho's blush deepens.

“Don't make me say it again,” he whimpers, getting everyone's attention with that sound.

Chan drops the bomb,, and Minho sinks into his arms, trying to make himself smaller as his face burns with embarrassment. But the stunned, interested looks he gets from his friends ease the embarrassment almost immediately.

“You…because no one..,” Seungmin stutters, and Minho nods shyly.

“How often?” Changbin asks, intrigued.

“A few times,” Minho answers.

“And how long? Hyung, were you holding it the whole day?” Jeongin asks with wide eyes, and Minho nods.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

“Next time you say you can't stop yourself from cumming, I'll remind you of that,” Chan snorts, and Minho's eyes widen in anticipation. “Now go before you make a mess in the car.”

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

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uhdrienne · 9 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

04. 53,000 won

🌼 warnings: mention of a funeral (but no one dies, it's just a description), awkward socialisation

🌼 word count: ~3k

"Ugh!!" Your head is in your hands, sitting in the middle of your newly-furnished apartment, mulling over the incident. A part of you feels bad for saying all that out, but how were you to know the mic was on?

A knock on your door breaks you out of your struggle. You sigh and pull yourself up. When you open the door, you're surprised to see Wonwoo outside. His mouth is set in a mocking smile, all the previous friendliness and teasing tone gone.

He cuts in before you can ask what he's doing here. "You really think you're better than everyone, don't you?"

"What?" You ask in shock.

"You must have had a smooth life, right? I told you before, Miss L/N. This isn't the city." He continues coldly, not a usual shred of humour in that sentence to be seen. "We live differently from you bigshots in the city, that's true. We make honest livings, and everyone has had their fair share of struggles. And what did you say -- 'too simple it's aggravating'? I'm not sure you know about anything any one of us has gone through. I humoured you at first because I thought you were just awkward with us, but I guess I shouldn't have." He gives a mirthless laugh.

You snap, "If this is about earlier, just stop. I don't need you to rub it in."

He raises his eyebrows. "You went around calling us all simpletons in essence, but you get upset the moment I call you out for it?" You shoot a glare at him, but he continues, unfazed.

"Listen here, Doctor. Life isn't so fair on everyone. You may have had it easy, but a lot of people spend their lives on unpaved roads, and some run at full speed only to reach the edge of a cliff. You have no right to undermine that, got it?"

He stalks off without looking back.

You slam the door shut and return to the middle of the room, fuming. Not even three minutes later your pity party is interrupted by yet another knock on the door.

Fed up, you storm to the door and pull it open, ready to vent on the man...

"Delia??" You ask, and she breaks into a smile. "Surprise!"

"What are you doing here?!" You burst into tears and crush her in a hug. Her expression turns into one of concern. "Wha- are you okay??"

"I messed up!" You sob into her shoulder as she hurriedly comforts you and pats you on the back. "When I was telling you about the town, I was in the broadcast room, and it played out for everyone to hear."

"Oh." Delia pauses the patting for a second before pulling away from the hug. "Yeah, you really did screw up."

"Delia!" You wail. "What now? I can't face them anymore. I'll have to move out, but I'll be unemployed. I-"

"Okay, calm down, shh, shh," Delia says, rubbing your back to soothe you. "It's okay. Just apologise -- sincerely -- and make sure you don't do it again." After a pause, she asks, "Is that why I saw Chief Jeon walking down the path earlier?"

"You saw him?" You ask, stricken. "Did he say anything?"

"No, he just smiled and said hello," Delia replies. "He didn't seem any different."

"Crap," You groan, leaning against the couch.

"Yup, crap indeed," Delia says bracingly. "Look, really, try to have fun here, okay? I know this wasn't your first choice, but a lot can happen in three months. I think you need to give them a chance before you say anything. I mean, if someone just assumed shit about you, you'd be mad too, right?"

You shrug. Delia rolls her eyes. "Go take a walk or something to clear your head. You might go do something rash if I keep on yapping, so go on."

You throw on a cardigan over yourself and make your way out the door with Delia's encouragement. You finally walk to the harbour, rather chilly at this time of night, and to your dismay, you spot Chief Jeon, sitting with Seungkwan and Joshua along the steep step at the top.

Oh. It was all three of them.

You brace yourself to walk right past them but sigh, Delia's words replaying over and over in your head. But they probably hated you now, you reasoned. So if you walked past them, they might not even bat an eyelash.

As you approach, Joshua looks up and raises his eyebrows. "Why're you here?"

"Walk," You reply hesitantly, trying to avoid eye contact. Seeing them again, in person, like this -- amplifies the embarrassment you feel. You can feel your ears turning red.

Chief Jeon huffs. "Sit down. You're not at a court sentencing or something."

Seungkwan finally looks up at you and motions with his head slightly, and that is your cue to sit, a small distance away from the three men.

"That," Chief Jeon says, pointing at the large, red lighthouse in the distance, glowing with bright lights against the night sky, "is the lighthouse. Fishermen use it lots when they can't get back before nightfall. It helps them navigate, and make sure they don't hit rocks and capsize."

You look at him curiously. "What?"

"Miss Hwang -- you've met her, the cafe owner-- can be a bit of a chatterbox, but she's really friendly. She's noisy, but she has a good heart, and she makes good company on lazy days." He continues, as if he hasn't heard you.

"Hey," Joshua nudges him, amusement on his face. "Tell her about Grandma Lee."

"Grandma Lee is everyone's family," Chief Jeon adds, a fond expression on his face as he looks out to sea. "She's lived here all her life, so she's watched practically everyone grow up, and she's seen lots of them come and go. She... she raised all three of us when we were kids, actually."

"She's the best person ever, and she's a good cook." Seungkwan tells you, the first sentence he's said to you since the fiasco.

Your confusion doesn't ebb. "What on earth are you three talking about?"

Chief Jeon rolls his eyes. But it's Joshua who speaks up first.

"We were getting to that," He says. "We're angry, yeah, that you jumped to the conclusions of us being simple that it was annoying. And Wonwoo was right that everyone's lives are different and you really shouldn't have said that." You're ready to retort, but Chief Jeon cuts in.

"You must be angry about what I said earlier."

"You know meddling can be dangerous, right?" You return. "You probably haven't caught up to the world yet."

"Probably," Chief Jeon shrugs. "But I'd appreciate it if you met them halfway."

You huff.

"I know this wasn't in your plans," Chief Jeon continues.

"...But?"

"This may sound old-fashioned, but this town hasn't had too many city people come in to stay," Seungkwan adds, tossing a pebble in the air and catching it. "So we're very tight-knit and our behaviour can be different from city people."

"Sounds exhausting," You mutter.

"Yet you chose to open a clinic here. Don't we all need some time to adjust?" Chief Jeon asks you. When you don't reply, he says, slightly sighing. "We were talking about it, and we figured all people make mistakes. Strictly speaking, it's not like you knew the mic in that room was on."

"We badmouth everyone at some point anyway, right? And everyone is probably talking shit about you right now," Seungkwan shrugs. "So you're all even. It's time for you to start over."

"And we want to tell you about life here," Joshua says, not unkindly. "So we can get to know each other a bit more, and we won't just be awkward up until you leave."

You stay silent, your irritation fading slightly. Perhaps these three weren't that bad.

Seungkwan launches into a quick briefing of the villagers. You find out that Mrs Woo, your landlord, has a seven-year-old son, who's top of his class and a quiet but obedient boy. That a young couple is running a small convenience store near the main path, and they're expecting a second baby soon. Wonwoo and Joshua stay silent, mostly, only chiming in very occasionally.

You don't say much, simply nodding at the right places, until Seungkwan snaps his fingers. "Ah, right! Reminds me, have you given out rice cakes?"

You stare at him in utter confusion, only for all three men to stare back at you, baffled. "You haven't? Seriously?" Wonwoo asks incredulously.

"No wonder," Joshua muses, before explaining. "You ever heard of the custom of handing out rice cakes when a business opens or when you move in?"

You nod slowly. "I thought that was a past tradition."

"Some of us see it as a form of courtesy," Joshua replies. "We'll help you make them, so pass them out. Maybe they'll take it as an olive branch."

You nod hesitantly. "Okay. I see."

Wonwoo shakes his head in mock amusement. "All those brains to be a doctor, and you really forgot rice cakes?"

You shoot him a wilting look, and he cracks a smile. "Don't start on your spiel about city life again."

"I wasn't going to," You say obstinately, but you know damn well you were on the verge of it.

To little surprise on your end, no one really changes their impression of you even after the rice cakes three days after you move in.

Some accept it with barely-there enthusiasm, while some don't even bother to spare you a second glance. It was expected, you muse, as you exit your twelfth household of the day.

"Miss Doctor!" A voice you know all too well calls out to you, and you look up wearily.

"What?"

"You handing out rice cakes?" He asks, outstretching his hands to take the few tins you have in your hands.

"Yeah. You guys said to."

He huffs. "Show some backbone about it, would you? You're promoting your clinic, not a funeral."

You cross your arms. "You try getting brushed off by so many people and see if you can still keep that grin on your face."

He rolls his eyes. "Don't be a baby. I bet you just went in, said "I hope you come to the clinic!" without apologising, and left."

You stay rooted to the ground. "So?"

He looks at you, shock on his face. "Did you really think that's enough? Of course no one would be convinced! An apology would be more than welcome."

You shrug, already worn out. "Whatever."

"Don't get grumpy on me," He says bracingly. "That's pathetic. Where's your friend, by the way?"

"Back in Seoul." You shrug.

He rolls his eyes. "Alright. Come with me this evening."

"What?"

"You're pretty stubborn. I said, meet me this evening. We're going somewhere."

"Wher-"

He stalks off, his hand stuck up in a wave.

"Idiot," You mutter.

You meet him at the junction near the small convenience store at the junction at six sharp.

"Oh, you're here early," He remarks as he approaches you. "Come on. We're going to the village meeting."

"What?" You recoil instantly, and he clicks his tongue. "Don't be a baby, honestly. Come on."

He leads you, with lots of complaining, back to the same place with the broadcast room. This time, you hear the buzz of people's voices, some laughter, lively conversation from inside.

Your hesitation is obvious as Wonwoo ushers you, and he sighs. "I'm giving you a chance to go in and try making things right. They need you as a doctor like you need them as companions, you know?"

You try to glare at him, but with your unwillingness and nerves combined, it's much milder than usual. He's clearly unbothered as he cocks his head towards the room. "I'll catch up with you. Go on."

"You're not coming?" The words shoot out, more alarmed than you intended.

"Time's a-ticking. I'm not the one who should apologise, Miss Doctor."

You huff, turn your back to him, and steel yourself. "Fine." Your heels crunch into the gravel as you walk towards the room.

He watches you as you march away.

You open the door warily, and all eyes turn to you. Disgruntled mutters break out as you step in awkwardly, but Seungkwan and Joshua, who are already sitting cross-legged near the back, smile slightly and wave you over to sit with them. Amongst the not-so-discreet chatter of the grandmothers who eye you disapprovingly, you make your way through and sit next to them in relief.

The conversation is muted until Ms Hwang asks (although it sounds more like a confrontation to you), "Why are you here, Doctor?"

"Um..."

Seungkwan clicks his tongue before he cuts in, clearly sensing your discomfort with all the villagers staring at you, not kindly in the slightest. "She's living here with us in the town now! Of course, she should be here."

Joshua murmurs assent, hand coming up to pat your shoulder in comfort. You try to smile awkwardly, and the villagers go back to mumbling under their breaths. That is until the door opens and Wonwoo comes in. He's carrying a box of fruits, you observe, and the villagers make way for him on autopilot. He sets the large box down, makes eye contact with you, and breaks out into a grin.

"Ah, Miss Doctor! I see why you needed my help carrying this in." He makes a show of stretching his back. "This is rather heavy, huh?"

"Wha-" You start to ask, but Seungkwan jabs you in the ribs. He's smiling when you look at him, and you finally figure out the act.

The murmurs continue, but more so in surprise, and as Wonwoo looks around in mock confusion, he deliberately chuckles out. "Ah, Miss Doctor heard about the village meeting today. She went to get fruits for everyone, but it was too heavy. She didn't even want my help until I insisted!"

The three grandmas turn to look at you, but the air of disapproval is replaced by something more questioning. The change is rather welcomed, though, the feeling of being scrutinised slowly fading. You manage to laugh out awkwardly.

The meeting goes without a hitch. The villagers help themselves to the peaches and apples Wonwoo — “you” brought— as your landlord addresses the issues of village cleaning and trash bags. Joshua even throws in a few deliberate praises on your choice of fruits. As the sky outside darkens, your landlord finally wraps up, and she adds, "Let's all thank Y/N for bringing fruits today, okay?"

A few mumbles of thanks are heard, but that alone sends endless relief through you.

Everyone files out after a while, goodnight's and see you's exchanged. You hang behind the rest, walking with Wonwoo. Seungkwan and Joshua go on ahead, saying they want to have an early night.

He stops you at the junction and holds out his palm.

"What?" You ask.

"53,000."

"Huh?"

"53,000 won."

"Wha-"

"For the fruits. I didn't want to say this to you earlier."

You huff and reach into your bag, but he stops you. "Bank transfers are fine. I'm not going on another wild goose chase with you for money."

"God, do you ever get tired?"

He chuckles at your annoyed tone before speaking again, slightly warmer and less sarcastic. "Good job today. I think the grandmas are warming up to you."

Before you can respond, he's striding back down the path, waving goodbye to you.

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

🌼 summary: going back to the countryside where you grew up was at the bottom of your list. unexpectedly, your life changes course, and you eventually find your home in weekly village cleaning, the sound of the waves, and with the local jack-of-all-trades, jeon wonwoo.

🌼 pairing: wonwoo x reader fic (fluff, angst, hometown chachacha!inspired)

🌼 genre(s): fluff, mild angst, yn can be mean sometimes at the start (this is inspired by the kdrama hometown cha-cha-cha, so some parts of the plot and characters are similar), wonwoo is an overall sweetheart

ch.04: 53,000 won

prev. masterlist. next.

🌼 taglist: @gaslysainz @lev1hei1chou

writer's note: wonwoo is our saviour 😋

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

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With Sweet Understanding (Handsome Jack x Female!Reader) pt. 12

So this is the last chapter for now. There may be more little snippets of these two in the future but this is the end of the main story. Thank you all for your patience. Writing consistently during the school year is hard as shit.

Trigger warnings: gaslighting, emotional manipulation, workplace sexual harassment

This mutual revelation came not a moment too soon. Because this plan required both of you.

On paper, it was simple. You were to intercept Tassiter on his way to the shareholders meeting, claiming you'd found some incriminating evidence against him. Meanwhile, Jack would be pitching his invention to the shareholders. But it wasn't a plan that allowed for any missteps. Tassiter wasn't stupid. If you couldn’t keep his attention away from the meeting, he'd surely connect the dots and the whole ordeal would be sunk.

Of course, no amount of planning could have slowed your heart rate on the elevator ride up to the executive offices. Maybe not steeping your coffee with red bull could have, but it was far too late for responsible decisions now.

"So, don't be mad at me." He kept his eyes straight forward and spoke through the side of his mouth.

"What?" You mumbled, bracing yourself for the impact of whatever wrench he was about to throw in the plan.

"I may have left an ECHO message for the shareholders, telling them to gather in a different conference room." He admitted. "...Using Tassiter's voice."

You fought the urge to snap your head around and glare at him. You kept your gaze front and center and tried not to look so stunned lest the camera pick something up. "You did what?!"

"I thought it was a good idea to put some distance between him and the shareholders." He mumbled. "Y'know, in case shit goes sideways, it'll buy you a couple of minutes."

"Shit, Jack!" You scolded, watching the dial on the elevator slowly point to your floor. Sure, it was a good idea. Regardless, your mind raced, scrolling through all the new ways this could blow up in your face. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"It's a good addition!" He rebutted. "You will thank me."

The elevator doors opened to the executive offices. You sighed and pulled the strap of your computer bag onto your shoulder. "I hope you're right."

"Fuck, me too." He muttered under his breath.

"Good luck down there, by the way." You said as you stepped onto the floor.

"Thanks, cupcake." You could hear his smirk in his voice. "You too. Knock him dead. Take that as literally as you'd like."

The doors closed behind you and you pushed forward. As you walked, you continued to unravel the new problem in your head.

"So, it looks like we bothered to come in this morning?" A familiar voice ripped you from your thoughts and sent you straight into fight or flight. "I'm surprised, [F/N]. I didn't think you'd show."

You put on your most transparent customer service smile and met eyes with the serpentine man. "Mr. Tassiter. Just the man I wanted to see."

"Are we here to dish out that promised vengeance?" He sneered, his curling upper lip and raising an eyebrow. "I believe you said I'd regret the day I ever decided to fuck with you and as far as I'm concerned, I have no regrets whatsoever."

All in due time, Harold. You thought to yourself.

"Actually, there is a personal matter I'd like to discuss." You said, reaching into your laptop bag.

"I'd love to." He lied, suddenly pushing past you. "But I have a meeting to attend and I'm sure Mr. Rhodes can find some use for you in his office. So, off you go."

You pulled out the ECHO recorder. "Good. Because this can't wait."

He brushed it off, as expected. "So? You recorded my silly little phone confession? Do you want a medal for learning how to use an ECHO application?"

"Not exactly." You said. "But by all means, keep walking. I'm sure the shareholders would love to hear all about Rigel Enterprises."

This caught his attention. He stopped in his tracks. "Where did you hear that name?"

You said nothing, but gestured to the ECHO in your hand.

He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. For a fraction of a second, you could have sworn you saw him scared. "Let's take this somewhere more private."

He dragged you into his office. You strolled leisurely across the room and plopped yourself into one of the fancy cushioned seats. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a little arrangement of fancy glassware holding ambiguously expensive looking liquors. You didn't usually like straight brown liquor, but Tassiter made it his personal hobby to rob you of the simple joys of life. It was only fair to return the favor.

"By all means, help yourself." He said, voice full of the biting sarcasm of a man cornered.

You met his eyes and poured a whole rocks glass worth of alcohol with no intention to drink it. "Thanks."

"Well, go on." He waved his hand. "Tell me what you know."

"See, there's actually a lot I don't know." You crossed your legs and leaned back dramatically. "Cause Rigel Enterprises has no presence on the ECHO net, no tax records, no identifiable staff, and the address listed on the checks belongs to a Dynasty Diner on Eden-6."

"So, there’s no logical way to prove that Rigel Enterprises even exists then?” Tassiter smirked, crossing his arms. “Why does it matter to you?"

"Cause we've taken an absolute shit ton of money from them." You answered. "And, word to the wise, if you're gonna commit fraud, pay your accountants better. They were way too ready to talk."

"I have to say, Miss [L/N]," he began, taking his seat at the oversized desk. "I hardly believe it's a coincidence that mere days after a humiliating demotion, a piece of incriminating evidence against me just happens to fall into your lap."

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" You asked, making yourself comfortable on the seat and holding the glass precariously over what was probably a very expensive carpet.

He grinned. "It's a cute attempt, Miss [L/N], really. But I've been a front runner in this game for longer than you've been alive. You think this is the first time someone's tried to blackmail me?"

"No." You said. "But it might be the first time it works."

He looked at you with an unidentifiable expression. "This confidence is certainly refreshing, Miss [L/N], but don't think you've got me cornered. Emails can be faked easily. For example, I can fake an email that claims you had sucked my dick to get your promotion. And if you don't concede right this minute, I just might."

Oh, so you want to play it that way, now? You thought. Alright. Game on.

"Well luckily for me, I'm not coming to you with an email." You said, taking a confident swig from your glass. You positioned your thumb on the play button and pressed it down with a satisfying click.

"I don't care if you have to throw the whole accounting department out of the airlock, Jeffrey. You need to stop them from connecting the dots." Said the recording. "If the brainless lackeys in manufacturing can think to organize, what's stopping the number-crunchers? And they actually have leverage. They know Rigel is bullshit. If they connect it back to me, we're fucked."

Tassiter looked visibly worried for a moment. It was in the slight raise of his eyebrows, the way his mouth tightened and his jaw set. You wanted to frame it.

"Alright." He said, putting a hand up. "I've heard enough-"

"Ah-cha-cha-!" You cut him off. "It's not over yet, Harry."

"Take care of it!" It continued with a shout that was abrupt, but not uncharacteristic for Tassiter. "I sent my secretary to break up the union in manufacturing, but I didn't think she'd actually be able to do it. I'm hoping that promotion will shut her up at least for now."

That was a gem taken straight from the horse's email. You glared at him. He tilted his head slightly upward to obscure his nervousness.

"Well," He began, eyeing a spot on his desk just to avoid looking at you. "You look like you're itching to say something, so, out with it."

You crossed your legs and leaned back in the chair. "You're not even going to try and deny it?"

"It's my voice, isn't it?" He countered, tenting his fingers and smirking as if he was only humoring you. "Only word that holds up against mine is, well, mine."

"That it is." You nodded, smirking devilishly. "It's a word that the brainless lackeys in manufacturing would absolutely love to hear. And hell, it's practically a written invitation for the accounting department to oust you as the fraud you are. I'm sure they'll really appreciate it-"

"--Alright." He cut you off, barely even having to raise his voice. "Just in the interest of saving myself some trouble, what can I do to make this go away?"

"I want my job as operations manager back." You said, firmly.

"And what do I tell poor Mr. Rhodes, hm?" He teased, a shit-eating grin across his face.

"Well, first I would tell him that you accept blowjobs in exchange for promotions." You said, without missing a beat. "He'd believe me."

"I don't know how you managed to edit that phone conversation so smoothly, Miss [L/N]. If I weren't so annoyed, I might even be impressed." Tassiter said, though whether it was genuine or sarcastic, you didn't know.

So, six years enduring Amos wasn't a complete waste, after all. After all, he taught you how to gaslight with the best of you.

"What, you think cause I can reset a router and you can't, that somehow makes me a tech genius?" You scoffed. "Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Excuse me?" He asked, a bit taken aback.

"You're excused." You said, kicking your feet on the desk. "It's just, what's more likely? I painstakingly edited together a series of individual voice clips that I, somehow just had on me over the course of a weekend? Or, I just happened across an incriminating phone call the week of my promotion that I saved for a situation just like this?"

"Interesting." He said, fixing his eyes back on his computer. "I could just have you fired."

"If you wanted me gone you would have fired me by now." You said, firmly. You'd never been more sure of anything in your life and you sounded like it.

"And if you weren't such a masochist, you'd have quit by now." Tassiter returned, sitting up from his desk. "But instead you hatch a ridiculous plan to blackmail me. Sorry, kid. You're out of your depth. It was a cute try, though. I have a meeting to get to."

You stood up abruptly, dropping the glass and scrambling to your feet. If he made it to the shareholders meeting, you were sunk.

"Honestly, [F/N], what in the world did you think you would accomplish?" He asked, speedwalking through the hall.

"I thought you would recognize your own voice, for starters." You said, hoping your panic would be perceived as frustration.

"This is a bluff, and a poor one at that." He spoke with utmost conviction. "Report to Amos if you want. If you don't, I'll consider it your letter of resignation. But a woman like you doesn't deserve power."

"This coming from the man who doesn't know how to disable the dual receiver function on his company line." You snarled, all but giving up and just trying to get some last minute jabs in.

"Kindly get out of my way, [F/N]." Tassiter ordered as you came up to the conference room. "I have important matters to-"

He cut himself off when the conference room was empty. For just a moment, he looked confused. And you knew it was your moment to strike.

"You had me move the shareholders to the downstairs conference room after last month's meeting." You said in as convincing a voice as you could give. And it was convincing as hell.

"Right." He agreed. "And which conference room was that?"

"Oh my god, it all makes sense now." You pretended to look surprised. "My grandfather started exhibiting signs of dementia when he was, like, sixty--"

"Shut up." Tassiter interjected, putting his hand up. "Just take me to the shareholders."

You just folded your arms and narrowed your eyes at him. "Right this way, sir."

You could tell by the vacant look on his face, and not to mention the sullen silence, that he was beginning to reconsider. You tried not to make your excitement known. You weren't out of the woods yet.

"Miss [L/N], when did you record that call?" He asked, finally breaking the silence as the elevator descended.

"I already told you." You insisted. "It was the week of my promotion. So, about a month ago."

"I see." He muttered under his breath. "And what was the reason I gave for moving the meeting?"

"You didn't." You said, without missing a beat. "You never explain anything you do."

"Right." He conceded as the elevator doors opened. "Miss [F/N], I expect you to act with discretion regarding my lapse in memory."

You scoffed. "As if you're in any position to be asking for favors."

"Fine." He spat. "Say absolutely nothing and we can discuss restoring your promotion."

"Oh, now we're cooking with gas." You said as the elevator doors opened. "Come on, old man. Maybe you can catch the tail end of the shareholders meeting."

When you reached the correct room, Jack was mid-conversation with one of the board members. He caught you out of the corner of his eye and directed their attention to you.

"See, gentlemen, I told you she'd deliver our CEO to us safely." He announced as you held the door open for your boss. He leaned in like he was sharing a secret and pointed in Tassiter's direction. "This one right here has been a little on the senile side since turning sixty and he can't do jack without [F/N]. But, just between us guys, [F/N] can do Jack whenever she'd like."

Both you and Tassiter watched in amazement as the room full of suits actually laughed along. Jack had them wrapped around his freakishly huge finger.

"Harold, is that true?" One of them asked, his expression hardening.

Tassiter just turned back and glared at you. "What is this, [F/N]? I didn't authorize a presentation. Especially not from this insignificant little-"

"I did." You interrupted, though you wanted to let the shareholders see how he spoke of his employees. You turned to the table full of businesspeople. "I'm the operations manager. I'm in charge of organizing soft pitches for investment opportunities. You wouldn't let me do my job, so I had to go over your head."

"And thank god she did." One of only a couple women piped up. "Could you imagine if this tech got in the hands of a competitor? The free market would become a warzone."

"Oh, like it isn't already." Jack added, kicking his feet up onto the table. "Come on, let's be real. We just have to be ahead of all those other hacks. And that's what she and I are here for."

"Hold on." A tall, blonde man cut in. "You wouldn't let her do her job, Harold?"

For the first time in the four years you'd worked for him, Tassiter was speechless. Like a school bully in the presence of the principal, he froze.

"Well, Mr. Paxton-" He began, taking a sharp breath in. "Miss [L/N] has shown a pattern of disrespect-"

"Oh come on, Harold." Jack interjected, throwing his hand out into the air. "If you're anything to go by, that's a requirement for a management position."

"Mr. Paxton, I-"

The blonde man put his hand up to stop his mouth. "I've authorized a sizable grant to kickstart manufacturing. Obviously I'm placing Jack at the head of the project. He'll need a team and some space in Research and Development and-- give him a nice roomy office, too."

"How about [F/N], huh, Nate?" Jack asked, meeting your eyes. "Couldn't have done any of this without her."

"Miss [L/N]." He said, reaching into his pocket and handing you a business card. "This is my personal number. If Harold tries to keep you from bringing us more people like Jack, give me a call."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Paxton!" You agreed, smiling giddily.

"If you two will excuse us, we have matters to discuss that are above your paygrade." He said, opening the door for you.

You and Jack made a quick exit, both trying to contain your excitement. Once you were out of everyone's eyeshot, you couldn't stop yourself from jumping into his arms and kissing him hard on the mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, and it was just as thrilling as the first time in the basement.

"So, what's next?" You mumbled, cupping his cheek in your hand.

"What's next?" He repeated, a mischievous grin on his face. He swung you around playfully, then pinned you against the wall. "Well, after we fuck in my new office and then on Tassiter's desk, what say you to a proper date?"

You pretended to consider it for a moment. “Okay, but we have to make sure Amos walks in on us.”

He pulled the voice modulator from his pocket and smirked at you. “Well, of course.”

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #borderlands the pre sequel #Handsome Jack #handsome jack x reader #handsome jack x you

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bvccy · 4 years ago

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Tenderness and Ferocity | 5. The Fourth Day

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Hydra!Reader Fic Synopsis: The Winter Soldier is starting to make stupid mistakes in the field, which is Bucky's way of trying to wrest back control and sabotage his handlers. Hydra brings a new doctor to figure out what's wrong with him and fix it. As she spends time with him, she becomes fond of the Winter Soldier, and he becomes fond of her. Bucky has other ideas. Or, a fic in which the Winter Soldier is the good guy and Bucky is actually the bad guy. Warnings for this chapter: Angst, Smut, and Dubcon (our boy receiving) Word count: 4171 Read on AO3: [link] [Previous Chapter] [Fic Masterlist] [Next Chapter]

"Man only plays when in the full meaning of the word he is a man, and he is only completely a man when he plays."

— Friedrich Schiller

He stepped in the room the next day and she was waiting for him, as always, sitting down quietly. There were no machines on the table, only some papers… and a plate of plums. She smiled at him as he came in, and saw him smiling back this time.

"Come in. Close the door. We won't share any with them." she jokingly whispered referring to the guardsmen outside. He obeyed and went to take his seat.

"How are you today? Are you well?"

The Soldier nodded without thinking.

"Help yourself to them, by the way." she said, pointing to the plate. The GSR had shown her how much he liked them. "They're not easy to come by around here, better make the most of it."

Now that he had permission, he took a slice and relished the feeling of actually enjoying something he ate. It was a new experience with, yet, an old familiar reaction.

"Today's session is going to be as short or as long as you want it to be. I just want you to do one thing: write on this paper ten sentences…" and she slipped before him a page and a pen, his attention still on the plums, "beginning with the words 'I am'."

His eyes snapped up to her. Seeing that she was serious with her simple but impossible request, he grabbed the pen and stared at the page. He immediately felt like a dumb ox; what was he supposed to write?

"I won't watch, if you want. I'll just stand over there, and you can call me over when you're ready. Alright?" She was smiling and being friendly, but that didn't stop him from feeling tricked somehow. It was, oddly enough, a familiar feeling — that of a schoolboy caught unprepared for a test.

She stood up and went to stand by the door, leaning against the wall while she looked outside through the slot that let in the light from the hallway.

'I am' — what, exactly?

The first thing that came to his mind, of course, was that he was a soldier. He was a man too, but both options felt stupid somehow, vapid. He was also alive, but was that the sort of thing she expected? Was it that simple? Was it a trick?

He barely touched pen to page before lifting it again, dissatisfied and angry. After a few minutes, hearing him grunt and shuffle, her attention went back to him.

"Done already?" She knew he wasn't but walked back anyway, and pretended not to notice how he tried to sink his bulk in the bare wooden chair and hide behind the empty air. "Really, nothing at all?" she asked as she stopped beside him. "Surely you can think of something…" She sounded more teasing than frustrated in her chastisement, but he still avoided her eyes. He heard her sit back down and felt her amused stare burn into his cheek.

"Well, what are you?" she started, pretending to think. "You are a man, right?"

He nodded.

"And — You can write any kind of sentence, such as… You are in a room, yes?"

Nod.

"And you're such and such feet tall. You're sitting down. You are awake. You are dressed. You are writing. You are thinking. You are young… or, are you old? What do you think?"

He finally looked back up at her, in innocent confusion.

"We don't have to decide on that, then. How about… Are you happy?" she tried.

He still hadn't written anything, and seemed even more uncomfortable with himself.

"Too much, I guess…" She got up to walk closer and rested her thighs against the table's edge. "Well, you're healthy. Right?"

Nod.

"And strong. And handsome…"

He looked up slowly at that and found her looking down at him, gently but with focus.

"Did you know that you're handsome?"

"That's eleven sentences."

"Oh… Is it?"

She hesitated for a couple of heartbeats, thinking, then decided. What would a man do?

Slowly, she slipped her knees between his spread thighs, gripped the back of his chair with her hands, and leaned ever-so-slightly in. To the side of her, she heard the pen clatter on the table as it slid from his limp fingers and he leaned back. Away from her? Oh. No matter.

Her right hand, hot and soft, came down to caress the side of his face, and she bit her lip tightly to keep a too-excited smile from breaking out. His eyes looked straight up into hers and his lips parted on their own when she tilted her head on the way to kissing him, but with an involuntary impulse he leaned back further against the chair.

"I can't." he said — half-chocked, half-conviction.

"It's alright, I… I won't…" she started, taken aback by how definitive his rejection was.

"It's not that. I can't…"

"What do you mean 'you can't'?"

"I can't touch you."

She finally leaned away from him, if only a little. "…Who said that?"

His fists clenched impotently, one on his knee the other still on the table, and finally he admitted: "The Director."

She backed up further to look at him and think about what that meant. In the back of her mind, she was relieved that his rejection didn't actually come from any revulsion to her, but only to disobeying orders. "Why would the Director tell you not to touch me?"

He was sat down quietly as ever, but never had a man looked more desperate to run away.

"Soldier." she called a bit more firmly. "Why would the Director say that?"

"He c— saw me…" he confessed.

She let him simmer in his guilt while she considered the implications, which were altogether too delicious and threatened to run away with her. Keeping her voice calm, she dug further. "What did he see you do?"

The Soldier only huffed and swallowed his words, bracing his feet against the floor, looking down to the ground, fighting with himself like a half-domesticated beast. When he didn't answer quickly enough, she dipped down, perching on her high heels, and leaned with her hands against his knees to look up searchingly into his eyes.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to" That's a lie. "but you know I'm not like him. I won't get angry with you, or disgusted…" and she watched his face carefully for the twitch of the muscles that predictably came at the corner of his mouth. There was an admission there, but also curiosity. "You can say anything." she soothed, rubbing his knee comfortingly. "How bad can it be…?"

Very.

"Come on, tell me… What happened?"

Thread by tenuous thread, he allowed her to unravel that which held his chest in a tight grip. "I was dreaming. About you."

She looked at him in a sly, satisfied way, having finally caught him in the lie she'd long since suspected; but now she didn't have the heart to reproach him. The fact that he had dreamed of her only added a personal satisfaction on top of the professional one. He's recovering more quickly than he let on. Not only dreams, but lies too.

"And what were you doing in your dream?"

He shifted and, instead of counting the cracks in the concrete, moved his attention to his left, to a dark corner, ever further from her eyes. She knew what it was, otherwise she wouldn't have asked, and he partly hated her for it. For how close she was when she asked him that. For how she rubbed his knee in a way that made him throb.

"It wasn't… I wasn't myself in my dream."

"How do you mean?"

"I wasn't there at all, like I didn't exist. There was this other this man, he didn't look like me, or sound like me, or think like me — I don't know how I know what he thought. I guess I was him, but I wasn't."

"I see... And how did the Director find out what you were dreaming about?"

A certain part of him wanted to kick her off him and choke her and break her neck for making him feel that way, for making him a coward in front of her — her of all people. But another part, more in control and much more encompassing, knew he couldn't stand to see her so much as afraid. It was a strange feeling, to want to kill someone — to want it, not just be ordered to — but also want to protect her from anything and everything in the world and see her alive and happy and just see her, every day.

So he took a deep breath and willed his eyes back to hers, waiting wishfully before and beneath him, and sucked in one good long look to work up the nerve to barely admit: "He saw me… How I was… because of you." The Soldier shifted, wanting her hot little hands off his knees but she held on and pressed forward.

"How could he see you?"

"Through the cameras. He came in soon after." He remembered clearly the supercilious sneer, the lazy gait, the direct command, and his own shame and fear and anger. "Ordered me not to touch you, not to tell you about my dreams."

"When was this?"

"The… the first morning." and he didn't need to explain which day or how many ago.

"Was it a nice dream, at least?" she dared to ask.

"Not exactly."

That knocked a bit of her glee off, until she noticed the leer of longing in his eyes.

Without giving herself the chance for one more treasonous thought, she raised herself back up. To the Soldier's surprise, her hands went straight to his belt and started tugging, unclasping, clumsily pulling it out like a dead snake.

"What—"

"The Director might have said you can't touch, but he never said anything like that to me. Arms behind your back."

He had enough wherewithal to realise what she was asking for wasn't exactly respecting the spirit of the order, but he also had enough sense to not argue. So the Soldier put his arms back behind the seat, and allowed her to tie his wrists together with the thick black belt — a useless effort as he could probably break it off if he tried.

After she finished a few thorough loops and knots, her hand lingered on him, then up his metal arm, his shoulder, his neck, threading through his tousled hair before finally cupping his cheek in a touch so small and warm and timid as to be completely unfamiliar. And he saw in her eyes the same surprise he felt, as if discovering a new world that could only bridged through another.

She turned and sat sideways across his lap, her other hand holding onto the back of the chair, her feet dangling a few inches off the ground. He brought his knees in a bit closer to make a comfier seat — he could hardly feel the weight of her, but at the same time that delicious little pressure was all his body knew.

She took her time settling in, working up the courage, thinking, fearing… and he felt ready to just break out of the belt-binds and pull her closer and crush her against him, but she finally got the nerve, and leaned in, and with her eyes never leaving his placed one chaste kiss against his mouth.

The Soldier stayed still, suspended in tension against the chair, against her hopeful gaze, against the welcoming scent of her cheek — and inwardly, worst of all, felt a forgotten part of himself brace for impact like an anchor sinking fathom after slick fathom in soft ink.

She closed her eyes when she went to savour his lower lip, then his scruffy chin, the sunken cheek, the hard outline of his cheekbone… He opened his mouth hungrily and leaned in to chase after her but she kept her kisses punishingly pure — as if he was nothing better than a love letter or a child's bruised knee or a venerable family cat.

When her kisses reached his throat he could — finally — bury his face in her hair at least, and breathe her in to burn from inside his lungs out through his whole body, and stay there forever. She must have found that flesh particularly satisfying; she parted her lips and opened her mouth and bit, just gently, across his skin, then lapped over the damp muscle that arched in tension there and thrummed with his moans.

Slowly, she allowed herself to feel him, strength leaving her arms as more of her soft chest leaned into his, rubbing the black t-shirt against his feverish skin and his heart nearly leapt out to join hers. He could feel her cant her hips on his thighs as her wet kisses moved from one rough jaw, to the other, then down his neck where wet heat pooled, lapping, lapping against his muted groans.

She leaned back to look at him, blushing and dizzy, and offered up her mouth with a teasing smile. He dipped to take it, but she just pulled back — once, twice, then a terrible third. "I thought you weren't supposed to touch me." she cooed against his starving lips. "Naughty, naughty boy."

An uncharacteristically pitiful sound ground past his teeth as she got off his lap and balanced herself between his eagerly widening thighs. He didn't even have time to shift in his pulsing discomfort before she crouched back down, legs held primly tight in her skirt, and started shoving his t-shirt up.

By this point, he didn't dare think about what she wanted from him anymore, so he decided not to think at all and let his head lean drunkenly back.

She could only roll it up so much before his thick bound arms stopped it, but it gave her enough to admire under the dismal light. He could feel the trembling in her fingers as she traced his chest, his ribs, his tensing abdomen, and suddenly his legs were bracing against the floor again.

Her elbows rested on his thighs as her fingers caressed their way downward until they reached, just gently tip-teasing, the edge of his trousers, but didn't pull them down nor move closer to where he was aching. Her lips left kisses on his damp stomach, what was left of her lipstick smudging blood-red wherever she found a particularly admirable divot to sink into. She didn't even bother to look up at him, nor did she lavish his body with any particular aim — she seemed content to just kiss what she found for kissing's-sake, healing one imaginary wound at a time with the complete abandon of someone who found life worth living only in a singular beloved.

Those ticklish explorations and her torturous hands were scraping at the edge of his restraint and soon he could barely keep himself from pulling at the knots around his wrists — tensing before remembering to sit still, then pulling again, one arm trembling the other changing calibration with a mind of its own. The chair too was scraping against the naked concrete in his longing to get away, to get closer, to get more of her, and the sound could barely cover the traitorous echoing of his moans.

His hips tried in vain to reach, at least a little bit, any part of her body, thrusting up into the infinite indifferent air between them, but all he managed was to rub himself again his tightening pants, and even that was just about enough, but not nearly.

"I need…" He couldn't finish begging because he didn't know how, wasn't supposed to know how, but it still seeped through every sound he made.

With her mouth still suckling on a shapely curve of muscle at his waist, she looked up, and her little claws sunk into his thighs at the sight of him: heaving, dishevelled, completely at her mercy. Those large grey eyes, now glassy and pleading, searched her face from behind the tendrils of his hair that fell to frame the marble-pale angles of his face — that face which used to be so stoic, so frightfully empty, now chipped away by a patter of kisses to reveal underneath a peachy-soft and blushing boy, who was forced to grow too fast.

She raised herself off him, suddenly abashed and pitying, and his heart stuttered with the panic that she was leaving… but she stayed right there. Within the bulky frame of his legs, she balanced herself on one high heel and kneeled with the other on the small space left on the chair between them. Her hands caressed his heavy head, brushed his hair away, and she rested her lips above his brow in a silent and continuous kiss.

He was so warm, she could feel it through his clothes, could almost feel the throbbing and churning of his desire in time with his whimpers as he took what little she offered and rubbed himself gratefully, desperately against her small, hard knee. His head fell forward suddenly as his whole body curled in on itself in her embrace and with one, two, three painful pulsations, finally released.

She kept kissing and cooing against his overheated skin as he worked himself through it, biting his lip through heaving gasps, burying his groans in her chest, and she realised in passing that that was the loudest she had ever heard him be. Even after the energy was drained from him and he calmed down, she could still feel aftershocks of his pleasure tremble against her leg as a little more and more was pushed out of him, seemingly never ending, until it did.

His breath ran hot and cold as it fanned over her skin, through her shirt, while he slowly came back to himself. She didn't move away, content to hold him close as long as he needed. Her fingers soothed his forehead while her chin rested on top of his head, her eyes far away in the quiet. Her heart was still drumming away and he didn't even need to strain himself to hear it while he felt his own, beating to match her rhythm, and then slowly come down, together.

"Are you alright, my darling?" she asked in an easy voice that masked her concern. He didn't say anything, just buried his face deeper in her shoulder and hummed contentedly.

She could feel the cloying dampness between her own legs collect and start to cool. Her lower lips ached as if beaten and were still throbbing. The virile scent of him beneath her didn't help at all, but it didn't matter anymore either. She had only wanted to cherish him, even at the dreadful prospect of his indifference — which, as a gift, turned out not to be so; to give and give and give to the point of nonexistence until all that was left of her was the spark that burned for him, for as long as he needed it.

She dedicated so much of her energies to the mission, to the work, to the distant goals of glory that Hydra promised, and she once thought that to leave behind useful things was her chance at true freedom from the mundane materialism that had sickened her into this exile in the first place. But within the unexpected package of one kidnapped and brainwashed soldier, imprisoned to a degree he didn't even comprehend, she found a gate to something so much better — one small form of immortality through immolation.

Her attention went to back to his arms, still tied behind him, and the way that left shoulder gleamed in the low sepulchral light caught her eye. One hand went to caress its silver surface until she caught sight of the clandestine mark they put on him. "I hate that ugly thing." she spoke with genuine disgust, her nails catching against the symbol there. "Wish I could scratch away this red satanic star."

The Soldier couldn't tell if it was some possessiveness of hers talking or just the Hydra zealot, jealous of a competing cult, but he felt too weary to hold those walls up anymore, and too serene in her arms to care.

She moved away from him, gently letting go, stumbling a little in her stiff ankles and straightening her skirt on her way around. She undid the knots and rubbed a little at the wrist that bore its marks. After a parting kiss to the bent back of his neck, she dropped the belt on his lap. "Let's get you cleaned up." she whispered.

He heard her fumbling with something, and then there was a quick run of water at the sink in the corner. The Soldier had just barely straightened himself in the chair when she came back around and started wiping down his chest with a slightly damp handkerchief. He looked down at her and she looked back, slightly blushing the lower she went, until she reached his trousers and paused.

With an awkward smile, she handed him a batch of tissues and hurried back to the sink.

He had to smile too, almost laughing at the odd standards of her shyness. He unbuttoned himself and wiped off the gooey seepage, wincing and going gently as the cool air hit the raw parts of him. His pants were still quite soiled on the inside, and his t-shirt was damp but drying; it would have to do.

It didn't take long for him to straighten himself out, to put his shirt and his belt and everything back together while she got rid of the evidence, and when she turned back to look at him it was almost as if nothing had happened. He stood up and turned to find her walking straight toward him, just like that first day. Only this time she was smiling, her steps were gentled by the aches and stiffness, and it wasn't just the Soldier she was looking at, but also someone… else.

His feet stood firm while he waited for her, but as soon as she was within reach he curled a hand around her hip and leaned down — only for her to press against his broad chest and pull away.

"We have to leave soon, or they'll come looking for us." The Soldier swallowed his complaints and nodded in understanding. Of course it was too much to ask… And then the killing blow: "I can't see you tomorrow."

"What. Why not?"

"We have a staff briefing all morning, and then I'll have to write a report on your progress, and I have to make something up about this session, and I'll be busy with meetings the rest of the day…"

She was holding something back. His eyes stayed on her body and he rediscovered how small she was beneath him, so steady but so close to wavering. He held her still by the hip, pressing into the fragile skin of her abdomen while his other hand went up to grip the base of her neck. To anyone else it would have been a threat, but she drank in his rough touch with calm. His thumb edged the neckline of her shirt away to reveal brand new skin stretching over birdlike bones.

Her eyes stayed on his, her smile ever-tender as she looked up into his troubled face, completely trusting in his murderer's-hands. The Soldier bent down to kiss the curve of a clavicle as he held her firmly in his arms and asked, again, "Why can't you see me?"

He let her battle with her conscience as he moved his hands down her sides, one hot one metal-cold, gently down and up her thighs, gallantly avoiding the curves of her behind to rest at the small of her back as he let himself fall from underneath her hands and go down on one knee in front of her.

"I'll see you again. Maybe… maybe next week…"

He could hear the breath tense out of her body as he brought his face dangerously close to her, but instead of aiming for the source of that sweet warm scent, he rested his lips right over her lower stomach, kissing now this way, now that, through her clothes and her skin, wanting her to know exactly where he wished he could reach, and take root.

A pair of hands came to rest on his head and caress the hair out of his face, then quietly and shakily she confided "They're considering you for a new mission."

He hummed against her, listening but uncaring.

"Maybe I can try to see you before you're sent off." she said pensively as her hands slipped to his shoulders. "Yes, I can stop by and say… maybe even get an approval…"

Don't trust this devious Hydra bitch!

Would you shut up for once?

103 notes · View notes

pars-ley · 4 years ago

Text

Umbra (part one)

Pairing: Demon Jimin x Angel Reader

Summary: An encounter with a mysterious demon leaves you reeling from an unexpected discovery.

Rating: 18+ (sfw) future chapters may be (nsfw)

Genre: Fantasy au / Demon Jimin au / Soulmate au / Strangers to lovers au / Angst / Fluff / Series

Word count: 1585

Warnings: fight scene / bloody injury / mentions of loss of blood / Talk of Demons / Description of non human demon

Tag list: @jungkooksbroski If you would like to be added to the tag list for this series let me know.

A/N: This is for the @btswritersclub monthly mini project and the prompt was "magic". Also used my @btsholidaybingo sqaure "dark alleys". Keep reading line before 500 words as description of Demon.

Beta reader: @unoriginal-username15432 thank you! You're a goddess as usual.

Mood board: @wheresmymoniat Thank you Elle for making this "just for fun" and somehow having delved into my mind to make it exactly how I would have imagined, your big brain continues to astound me.

The blinding white flash lit up the night sky as you wrap your long coat around you tighter, to shield yourself from the fierce wind this evening.

You know this isn't normal lightning and there's no storm on its way to wreak havoc, it was the work of a demon creating chaos, as they usually do.

You quicken your pace, aiming for where the burst of brilliant light slices through the inky blanket covering the city.

Another bright flash - closer this time - as you watch the veiny patterns it momentarily leaves behind in its path, your face being pelted with heavy rain drops as you force your eyes away from the sky. You're so close, you run, letting your coat open and flap wildly either side of you with each step you take, one foot bounding in front of the other.

An explicitly dark alleyway has you halted in your tracks. Not just any dark. Thick, inescapable dark. You've been into this kind of darkness before and it almost cost you, but that was different, you were young and naïve.

You'd made a mistake.

You'd tried to face a notorious demon on your own and almost lost, you got lucky. Now you were prepared, you could do this.

You take a confident step forward into the black before you and leave your fears on the pavement.

Wandering blindly for what feels like an eternity, something's presence lurking all around you, encasing you in a sickly, choking embrace, you have to remind yourself to concentrate and look for the way out, the edge of the emptiness. The end of the cloak.

Breathe. Focus.

You see the tiny slither of light and force your body in its direction, urgent and wild, pushing past the rim of the ebony cover. You're out and it's over, you can breathe again.

A menacing growl beside you has you spinning sharply on your heels, reeling to find two demons fighting in the alley.

One a human form and one far from it. Recognition of this monster clicks in your mind, one of the most dangerous and wanted demons of our time, here, right in front of you, quarrelling with another similar of its kind but not the same.

Could you face two of them and survive?

It's too late to back out now.

The giant monster springs, long, sharp claws out and aiming for his victim, only, at the last moment he spots you. You brace yourself as he lunges straight at you, his body slamming into yours.

Sharp pain gouges in your side, pulling a loud cry from your lips as anger bubbles hot in your chest. Your hands clasp around his hairy arms, keeping them firmly away from you. As he fights against your vice grip, large fangs snapping his snout viciously mere centimetres away from your face.

In one swift moment his heaviness is gone and your lungs fill frantically with air, you shoot up on your feet, wincing at the resistance from your side. You don't want to look, if you ignore it then it's not there.

The human figure crouches protectively in front of you, you're perplexed but far too distracted by the grotesque creature preparing to attack once again.

"Stay behind me!" The human demon orders you.

How strange.

You are not his ally and yet he's treating you as one.

"I can handle him." You retort, bringing your power to the surface ready.

He laughs, the sound infuriating. "Yea sure, looks like it from the blood you're losing."

Fury blinds you for a moment, before snapping you back into the present, you have to focus your attack on one demon at a time and this man can wait.

The creature dives forward towards the two of you, using your ability to hoist him off his feet and into the air, your pale smoky vines of power suspending him and snaking around his ankles above you.

You notice the man glance sideways at you, surprise evident in his features.

He uses his dark, wispy tendrils of magic to wrap around the monster's limbs, binding him in mid air before you both slam him into the ground, the hairy beast disappearing into nothing, banished back into another realm.

The cloak of darkness lifts as does the rain.

"What are you?" You demand. Curious as to why a demon would be banishing others of his kind. That's your job.

He slowly turns to you, eyes wary and narrowed. "You know what I am."

What kind of demon could he be? You’ve never come across one like him before. Even as he stands a distance away, you feel yourself drawn to him, drawn to his movements, to the way he stares at you, watching you behind heavy lids.

He moves closer. "Look, if you're going to banish me, I'd rather we just get this over with." He says nonchalantly, dusting off his hands, looking at ease and quite frankly bored with the conversation already.

You frown. You should do exactly that. No talking, no hesitating, just get rid of him. However, something stops you, holds you back from doing what you know is right but something inside you is screaming that it is wrong.

"Why did you banish him?" You fire back, needing some answers for this unexplainable feeling deep in your gut.

"You already know the answer to that too." His eyes are fixed on yours as he begins to close the distance that stretches out between you.

You retreat until your back is met with cold hard brick.

"He was a demon, he doesn't belong on this plane. There. Is that the answer you're really looking for?" His perfectly arched eyebrow lifts as he throws the question at you.

You watch his pillowy lips pull up into an arrogant smirk. "Come now," he leans in closer, only a breath away, his sweet scent intoxicating your senses and whispers, "what is it you really want to know?"

You're frozen, unable to move and run like your head is telling you to, unable to cast him away or banish him. All you can do is ball your hands into fists at your sides to stop yourself from reaching out to him, from running a finger along his flawless, smooth skin.

Angels are not affected by demon powers, they can't be charmed or willed or seduced, it's one of your perks and yet here you stand, immobile like a frightened little dormouse. But not because of this demon or his powers, this is entirely your own doing, your own cage you've built yourself.

He studies you over curiously, you wonder if your eyes mirror the very look in his. "Why are you not banishing me?" He asks, utterly perplexed.

"Why are you not trying to kill me?" You finally find your voice, stronger and braver than you hoped for.

His dark, smoky tendrils snake their way up your legs and body, until they're forcing your arms in the air above your head.

Your own pale vines of smoke meet his and entwine around them, halting them in their tracks.

He frowns at you, wide eyed. "What is this? What magic are you enticing me with?"

You scoff, hardly believing those words came out of his mouth and not yours. "I was going to ask you the same question."

Something clicks inside you, something deep down within your soul. Suddenly, you feel at ease, comfortable, at home. Your chest swells with a feeling you can't quite place, like being in love, only more than that. You feel complete.

His powers release their grip and your arms are freed, but your powers are still joined, still embracing.

"What's happening?" You ask bewildered.

He takes the one last step towards you, your bodies now touching, pressed firmly against each other. His thumb slides softly across your cheek, a caress that has you feeling dizzy and your knees weak.

"Tell me angel, do you have a mark?" He whispers, searching your eyes as if they held the answers to life's questions.

All you can do is nod, frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from his.

"Could it be, I've finally found you?" He says quietly, more to himself you think.

You question him with your eyes, pleading with him to elaborate, wondering if this is all a trick before he slaughters you right here.

He lifts the sleeve of his dark shirt and reveals his mark, an intricate, pink little pattern, almost like a scar. We are all born with these marks, none are alike, except for your life mate, which matches yours like a puzzle piece.

He looks at you with wildly desperate eyes.

You lift your sleeve, hands trembling.

You don't even have to look to know it matches. The overwhelming adoration in his eyes fills your heart to the brim, fit to burst.

"It's you. I've actually found you, and an angel at that." He lets out a small laugh. His smile is more beautiful than any scene or sunset.

Your soulmate, the one who will be bound to you in this life and the next and follow you for eternity. You've found him.

But it's not that simple, for a moment later he has disappeared, your magic clutches to thin air, nothing but emptiness fills the space around you and consumes your insides as you frantically look around. He's gone without a trace and you have no idea where to begin looking to find him again.

155 notes · View notes

itsadamcole · 4 years ago

Text

birthday in december

fem!reader x adam cole

it’s reader’s birthday, and Adam plans a surprise party for her but things don't go very smoothly since he's still recovering from that insane Wargames match on Sunday ...

word count: 2.5k+

warnings: fluff, upset!adam, a little angsty, soft smut

— hi hi, it's my birthday so i decided to write a birthday themed imagine with my all time fave ... enjoy —

masterlist || request an imagine here

~ 18+ content below - read at your own risk ~

Adam’s POV

"Fuck this stupid brace," I shout, trying to hang up decorations for Y/N's surprise birthday party. I have limited mobility with it on but my wrist hurts when I take it off.

My whole body is still sore from Wargames on Sunday with the boys. We beat Pat McAfee and his group but it was a grueling match like it has been every year. Bruises are scattered across my body, my wrist is in a brace, and I am still extremely sore.

But I promised myself that I would get through decorating for Y/N's party. I invited her family over, plus the Undisputed Era, their wives, and a few of Y/N's friends from NXT. No one is here to help me so I'm doing this alone.

It sucks. I just wanted to decorate and get through today for Y/N. She's my girlfriend and I wanted to do something nice for her birthday today since she's helped me with everything since Sunday.

Eventually, I do get the "Happy Birthday Y/N" banner up. I almost fall off the small ladder I used to get it up several times.

I scatter balloons all over the place. They all say "happy birthday" on them.

Then I smell something burning in the kitchen. "The cake!" I yell, running into the kitchen.

Smoke is coming from the oven and, like a dumbass, I try to get the cake out with my bare hands. I burn my hand on the metal cake pan. "Shit!" I yell, rushing to put my hand under cold water. I dropped the cake in the process.

My hand is blistering up and Y/N's vanilla cake is on the floor. I lean down and put my head on the counter next to the sink.

Everything is falling apart. I can't even do a simple thing like make a cake or decorate the house.

After a few seconds of running my hand under cold water, I pull it out it the water. I wet a paper towel and wrap it around my blistering hand.

I look down at the cake on the ground. Maybe if it landed on the bottom then I would have been able to serve it. Instead, it landed with the cake down on the floor.

Frustrated, I kick the thing across the room.

"Woah!" I hear come from the doorway.

I immediately look up at who it was and see Y/N standing there.

Shit, I think.

***

Your POV

"Why are you kicking food around?" you ask, curious.

Adam sighs and says, "Because I tried to surprise you with a party and a cake. Then I burnt the cake because I was having issues decorating. Then I burnt my hand trying to get the cake out of the oven."

You look at his hand wrapped in a wet paper towel and walk over to him. Adam doesn't even look at you. You pout and take his burnt hand in yours, checking on the burns.

His hand is blistered and red. "Let me help you get this cleaned and bandaged," you say, smiling at Adam. "Please."

Without looking at you, he nods. You walk off to the upstairs bathroom to get some antibiotic ointment and a bandage wrap. Once you find everything, you walk back downstairs.

You find Adam sitting on the couch in the living room and you sit beside him. He looks upset as he looks down, avoiding eye contact with you.

After unwrapping the wet towel from his hand, you begin to apply the ointment on his burns and blisters. Adam hisses in pain. "Sorry," you quickly say.

He mutters to himself, "I couldn't even bake a simple cake without hurting myself."

You begin to wrap his hand and say, "You're still healing from that match on Sunday. You shouldn't have pushed yourself to do all this just says removed from the Wargames match."

Adam sighs and says, "I just wanted to do something special for your birthday since you've been helping me out since Sunday. That's all I wanted, and I couldn't do it."

Pouting, you finish wrapping his hand and say, "Adam, baby, it's my job to help you. You're hurting and I'm supposed to be the one taking care of you. The only thing I ever wanted for my birthday was to spend the day with you."

Adam finally looks up at you, tears in his pretty blue eyes. You feel your heart break in your chest as he says, "I just wanted to do something simple and special but this stupid brace and my stupid body got in the way."

"Baby, you sprained your wrist and had a long match on Sunday," you say. "I didn't think that you would be able to move by today let alone run around the house trying to make today special for me. I don't need a big party for my birthday. I just need you and me on the couch eating some ice cream and watching some of my favorite movies." You smile at him.

Adam pouts and says, "You've done so much to help me since Wargames. I just wanted to do something special for you, Y/N."

The tears roll down his cheeks and you can see how upset he actually is. You pout and reach out, wiping his tears away.

You cup his face in your hands and say, "Adam, I love you and I appreciate that you want to do something special for me today, but you make today special just by being here with me."

He blinks away some tears and he nods. Adam says, "I'm sorry I'm such a mess. I just wanted to do something simple today."

You carefully hug him and say in his ear, "Baby steps, Adam. You need to stretch out and get your muscles moving again, and not by running around the house."

Adam lets out a little laugh as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you close.

The two of you sit like that on the couch for a second before you pull back. You smile at Adam and say, "Thank you for trying to make my birthday special. It means so much to me that you did try to do something for me today."

Adam finally smiles at you and he says, "I love you, Y/N. So much. Thank you for helping me out recently."

"I'd do anything for you," you say. "I mean it."

He says, "I know you would. It's what makes you such an amazing person, and it's what made me fall in love with you in the first place."

Right after you and Adam started dating, he was involved in a two out of three falls match against Johnny Gargano to retain his NXT Championship at Takeover: Toronto in August 2019. The match was brutal, and you took care of him then like you did now. Adam admitted a few weeks later that when you were taking care of him after his match, he knew he was starting to fall for you.

Flustered and happy that Adam isn't as upset anymore, you smile and say, "I love you, Adam. I'm seriously thankful that you tried to make today special even though you're still recovering."

Adam smiles back at you and asks, "Can I at least get a kiss for my troubles?"

Giggling, you say, "Of course you can."

You lean into Adam, kissing him lightly. He kisses you back just as softly.

The soft kiss turns into two and three soft kisses, before the kiss starts to get more passionate as you press your lips harder against Adam's.

Adam slides his hands to your waist and he pulls you closer to him as the originally soft kiss slowly turns intense.

Your hands cup his face as you kiss him.

His sneakily slips his tongue into your mouth, making you giggle against his lips before doing the same to him.

Adam starts to slowly push you onto your back on the couch, crawling so he's laying between your legs on top of you. The kiss is rough and passionate now.

You grip the sides of Adam's Undisputed Era t-shirt as you pull him against you.

His lips leave yours and attach to your neck. You let out soft sighs and close your eyes. "Adam," you say. "Baby, you're not physically well enough to do anything."

"Hm," he mumbles against the sensitive skin on your neck. "Says who?"

You smile and say, "Your body. You can barely do your usual activities without aching or being in pain."

Adam pulls back and looks down at you. "Y/N," he says, almost sternly. "I can have sex if I take it easy."

You almost laugh at how serious he's being before you say, "Come upstairs with me. I know it's my birthday but I have a surprise for you."

Slithering your way out from underneath Adam, you walk up the stairs. Adam follows behind you.

Once in your bedroom, you say, "Wait here." You grab a bag before walking into the master bathroom that's attached to the bedroom.

"What are you planning?" Adam calls as you change out of your t-shirt and leggings into the black lingerie set you bought yesterday.

You giggle and say, "Patience, my love. You'll see."

The black lingerie set is a lacy bralette that's pretty much see through with matching blank panties. You tie your hair up into a ponytail before leaving the bathroom.

Adam's jaw drops before he says, "Oh, damn."

He's sitting on the bed so you walk so you're standing in front of him. You say, "I had a feeling that you would try to overdo yourself today so I decided to buy this and help you feel better."

You stare down at your boyfriend as he bites his lip and says, "Oh, I am already feeling better."

"Good," you say, kneeling down in front of him. You reach up and unbutton his jeans. "I'm helping you feel better so you just lay there and look hot while I help you feel better."

You start to pull Adam's jeans off his body. He lifts his butt up and helps you get them off easier. His boxers come off with his jeans and you lick your bottom lip as you throw the pieces of clothing to the floor.

His eyes are on you as you take his member in you hand, pumping him a few times before licking his tip and taking him in your mouth.

Adam groans and grunts as you slowly begin to suck him off, using your hand to make up for what doesn't fit in your mouth.

You hum a little bit as his fingers find their way into your hair. You know humming a bit while Adam is in your mouth drives him crazy, and you want to make sure he feels good. So you do it several times.

"God," Adam moans slightly. "God, I love you. I love this. So freaking much."

Before he has the chance to release in your mouth, you pull back and stand up. Just to tease Adam, you do a little strip tease for him. He's propped himself up on his shoulders to watch you as you slowly undress in front of him.

He bites his lip as you finish. You push up his shirt so it comes off of him.

Carefully, you crawl onto Adam. You straddle his waist as you trace every bruise and little cut on his body that he got in the Wargames match. You lean down and leave little kisses on his chest as he moves and cups your face in his hands.

Adam's eyes meet yours and he leans up, kissing you. You kiss him back. This kiss is much softer and sweeter than the kisses a few minutes ago were.

His lips moves against yours for a few seconds before he pulls back, meeting your eyes.

"You have no idea how much I love you," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm serious."

You peck his lips and say, "I love you too, Adam. More than you know."

A smile appears on his lips and you sit up, your hands on Adam's chest to keep your balance. You begin to grind slowly against Adam. The tip of his erect member is moving through your soaked folds.

His groans and little noises when you were sucking him off made you wet. You couldn't stand it anymore and you needed him. You still need him.

After a moment of this, you take his member and line him up at the entrance.

Slowly and carefully, you lower yourself onto him. You sigh softly as you begin to move your hips. You're careful not to hurt Adam's already bruised body as you move so your movements are slow but filled with passion.

With every movement, you slide deeper onto him. Soft moans escape your lips as you throw your head back, enjoying this feeling.

Adam reaches up and plays with your breasts, groping them.

Your breathing gets heavier as you move faster. Your moans get louder and you slide your hands down Adam's chest.

The room is filled with your moans and the sound of skin slapping skin as you move.

A knot forms in your stomach and that's when you know you're close to an orgasm. You feel your walls begin to pulsate around Adam.

Your moans get louder as you moan Adam's name and several profanities.

"Baby," Adam groans. "I'm about to come."

Biting your lip, you say, "Me too."

He says, "On three?"

You nod as you speed up your movements.

After a three count, Adam releases his seed into you and you release around him while he's still inside of you. You moan out his name, almost screaming it as you come.

You help yourself and Adam ride out your highs before you collapse onto his chest.

Both of you breathe heavily and you close your eyes, not having any energy to pull yourself off Adam.

It's quiet as Adam begins to play with your hair.

"Happy birthday, Y/N," he says, kissing your forehead. "Now it's time to give you my present."

You smile and look up at Adam, asking, "What's my present?"

Adam smirks and says, "Sex. All day, as many times as you want."

Biting your lip you say, "That's the best birthday present ever."

He doesn't waste any time in starting round two as he attacks your neck with kisses.

#adam cole imagine #adam cole smut #adam cole fluff #adam cole x reader #wrestling imagine #wrestling smut #wrestling fluff #wwe imagine #wwe smut #wwe fluff #imagines #imagine #nswf imagine #smut imagine #birthday imagine #smut

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katedrakeohd · 5 years ago

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Cordonia 1885

[Masterlist]

Previously on Cordonia 1885 - After being rescued from the bloody prison of his hotel room, Drake has been taken to the safe haven of Mary's family home.

But how safe is he really?

Cast of Cordonian characters: Drake Walker, Bastien Lykel and Bloody Mary (OC)

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Series Notes / Warnings :

Major character death, blood, vampirism, graphic descriptions of corpses, angst, swearing, content of a sexual nature, animal death. -

(sorry folks this isn't a romantic comedy)

Word count: 2080

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- Chapter Four -

The stair treads creak under their feet as they go up. The smell of decay is thicker up here, and it makes Drake's eyes water. He was starting to suspect that there was a dead body, or bodies in the house. At the top of the stairs there are four doors, all ajar except for one.

Drake covers his mouth and nose with his bent elbow, muffling his voice.

“M – Mary? Seriously don't you smell that? Is there something or someone dead in this house? You said that your father died, but what happened to your mother?”

Mary doesn't answer at first and just leads Drake to a bedroom at the end of the hall, “Mother and I exchanged letters monthly while I was working for the Beaumonts, but two months ago her letters stopped. She had mentioned an illness, and doctor visits.”

“Were you able to come see her before she..passed?”

“Just once, and she had become so sick that she had taken to her bed to await her end.”

“Is she still here?”

“N..no,” she lied.

Before Drake can respond, Mary grabs him by the elbow and pulls him into her father's room.

The bedroom contains a large wooden bed, wash stand with basin and mirror, and a dresser. In the corner a coat rack is wearing a wool overcoat similar to Drake's. A pair of men's leather shoes sit on the floor at the base of the rack. A bar of shaving soap and a straight razor sit next to the wash basin. Mary lights the candles on the dresser, near the wash stand, as well as one on the windowsill.

Drake sits on the end of the bed and watches her prepare the room. She opens dresser drawers and shows him the contents, “Father was a tall man, but not too tall, and wasn't an overeater. His clothes should fit you.”

Drake looks around the room again, appreciating how neatly it's been kept. Mary takes off Drake's wool coat and hangs it on the rack next to her Father's. When she walks back over to stand in front of him, he notices the smeared dark stains on her undergarments for the first time. But none of the bloody areas were fresh, or spreading, so her clothes weren't hiding any wounds.

He looks down at the blood on his own hands, and clothing. “The blood all over the hotel mattress wasn't yours was it?”

Mary shakes her head slowly and steps over closer to unbutton his shirt. “Definitely not mine.”

Her fingers feel cool against his skin as she slides the shirt down off of his shoulders, letting it fall down his arms and pool around his waist.

“But..but I didn't find any cuts on me either.” He says nervously, as she unbuttons his trousers.

Mary puts her hand on his neck and brushes her thumb across the itchy welt below his ear, making him shiver and his skin pimple with goosebumps.

She leans in and kisses his mouth, continuing to rub gently at the spot on his neck. When he leans forward to kiss her back, she pulls back and then shifts her mouth to his ear, whispering, “I didn't cut you Drake. I bit you.”

Drake recoils at her cool breath on his skin, scrambling backward on the bed, his arms tangling in the sleeves of his shirt as it gets trapped beneath him.

“Y- you bit me? Hard enough to make me bleed!?”

Mary unties the ribbons at the bodice of her undershirt and then slides down the waistband of her underpants, letting her clothes drop to the floor. Drake watches her climb naked onto the bed after him, her eyes looking darker than they did before. But it's not passion he sees, but a hunger of a different kind. The mark on his neck starts to tingle and the itching in his groin flares to life when he sees her lick her lips.

Mary straddles his lap, and traps his forearms by his sides. Drake is shocked at how incredibly strong she is for someone so slightly built. He looks up at her with panic in his eyes as her lips spread into a sharp toothed smile. He sucks in a breath and his mouth drops open.

“Sssh, screaming won't help you one bit. There's nobody to hear you.”

“But..but..Bas..Bastien?” he stammers, twisting his shoulders up off the bed and trying to break free. “What in the hell are you?”

Mary releases his arms and strokes her fingers down the sides of his neck and along the contours of his shoulders and chest, smiling at the way he tries to swallow down his mixture of fear and desire. His eyes travel down her naked body, and he tries to wet his lips though his mouth has gone dry.

Mary tips her head back and laughs, “We're vampires, Drake.”

“You struggled too much the first time I bit your neck and it made me waste so much of your blood. And when I bit you here,” Mary rocks her hips against his groin, causing Drake to gasp at his body’s response. “You liked it so much you wouldn't stay still so I could finish what I started. You have a remarkable tolerance for alcohol, and I was expecting you to be more drunk while I fed from you.”

Drake is speechless as he struggled to understand what he was being told. His attempts to buck her off are halted by the viselike clamp of her thighs. She shakes her head and clucks her tongue to scold him.

“Struggling is just going to bruise your beautiful skin and exhaust you, and I want you to be awake for this.”

“Awake..for w-what?” he protests, as she leans forward and covers his body with hers.

“We want to make you one of us.” she purrs seductively, as she nuzzles his ear.

Laying chest to chest, Mary can feel his heart thumping against his ribs.

“Try to relax, Drake. Pretend we're just lovers cuddling after sex,” she whispers, turning his head to the side to expose his neck.

“I..I can't move. And this hardly feels like cuddling.” Drake whimpers as he feels her tongue touch his skin.

Close your eyes, and try to calm down. The faster your heart beats, the quicker you'll bleed out. I just want another taste of you. You're so damn delicious.

Drake blinks rapidly in surprise when he hears her soothing voice in his head. “How..how do you do that?” he whispers.

It's one of my gifts, now sssh. Just listen to the sound of my voice and relax a little. The hammering of your heart is deafening. Just breathe, and you might even enjoy this.

“Enjoy..wh- ,” but his words are cut off when he feels the pinch of her fangs and the suction of her lips against his skin.

Mmm, so delicious. Just breathe and relax. I want you docile, not dead.

Drake feels an overwhelming dizziness and fatigue numb his senses and limbs. It was like being heavily intoxicated and mildly aroused at the same time. When he tries to open his eyes he can't.

A sensuous moan resonates out of Mary's throat and Drake is transported back to a few hours ago and their romp in the hotel room. As he slips into unconsciousness he recalls mental flashes of soft perfumed skin and impossibly red lips being pressed against him. His heart skips and falters in its rhythm and his last thought is Mary..please stop.

“Mary, stop!” Bastien's voice booms out as his tall figure fills the doorway.

Sitting back, Mary wipes at the trickle of blood running down her chin and glares in Bastien's direction for the interruption. When Bastien takes a menacing lunge forward, meaning to grab for her, Mary leaps from Drake's unconscious body and scrambles over to the other side of the bed.

She makes no move to cover herself as she rushes around the corner and tries to push Bastien back out of the room.

He easily sidestepped her attack and spun around to catch her by the wrist before she can regain her balance and strike again.

“Stop it, you fool!” he warns, “I'm stronger than you and can snap you like a twig.”

Mary snarls at him, and tries to claw at his eyes, but he grabs her arm and forces her down onto the floor on her knees. He tightens his grip on her and crisscrosses her wrists up under her throat to subdue her. “I said stop!”

Mary looks up at him with anger and contempt in her eyes, but stops struggling.

“I want him for myself! Show me how to make him mine.” she wails.

Bastien shakes his head, “No, I told you to get him cleaned up and dressed, not to finish him off.”

Mary sags down onto the floor in defeat and Bastien lets her go. She turns away from his disapproving, piercing gaze and looks over to Drake's prone body on the bed.

Bastien grabs the sleep shirt hanging on the back of the bedroom door and tosses it at her. “Cover yourself for Christ's sake! He's still a mortal man and your nakedness is too much of a distraction. You were a decent chamber maid once, now do what I ask. Go prepare him a bath. I'll pick him out some clothes and then revive him, if it's not too late.”

Mary sighs, getting up from the floor and pulling the oversized sleepwear over her head. It was hardly as elegant as her own frilly undergarments, but at least she wouldn't be performing her chore naked.

“Are you forgetting that I was fired because of my poor housemaid skills?”

“No, you were fired because you were a mistress who couldn't keep her mouth shut.” Bastien snaps back, as he pours water from the pitcher into the wash basin. “Now, go. Before I get more angry.”

She turns to give Bastien a dirty look before she leaves, but his attention is already taken by rummaging through her father's dresser for clothing.

Bastien pulls a simple button down cotton shirt, underpants and a pair of wool trousers, along with a set of braces to hold them up. The clothes were in decent condition despite being of lower quality. He had to remind himself that this was the home of a commoner and not to expect a Noble’s finery. He lays out the clothes on the top of the dresser and then sighs with dismay at the horrible state of Drake's shaggy beard and hair. Both were matted with blood and in desperate need of a trim.

Thankfully there's a razor and soap handy because the poor bastard needs a shave.

Grasping Drake's ankles he drags him down to the end of the bed and removes his trousers.

My goodness, he's hairy everywhere it seems.

Balling up his smelly and worn out trousers into a ball he tosses them to the corner. Cocking his head to the side he smirks with disapproval at the bites Mary had made on the inside of his thigh.

Amateur. If her fangs had torn a bigger hole he would have bled out his whole supply in seconds. No wonder the hotel bed was in such a foul mess when we found him.

She had stupidly left fang Mark’s on his penis too. Poor guy must have been in a state of itchy, firey agony.

With a sigh, Bastien tucks his fingers in the junction of Drake's thigh and groin to test for a pulse. He's pleased to detect a faint throb of life under the skin amid the bloody mess of his pubic hair. Oh good, she didn't totally kill him…yet.

Pulling him upright, he relieves Drake of his shirt, and then repositions him on the bed so that he can give him a shave.

When Mary returns to tell Bastien that the bath was ready, she's pleased to see Drake with a clean face and a handsome moustache on his lip. His hair has also been dampened and combed into place.

“He's starting to look better,” she grins as she appreciates his nakedness. “Do we have to put clothes back on him?”

Bastien sighs, “Yes, Mary. Is the bath ready and the fire stoked?”

Mary nods.

“Good. Now while I carry him downstairs I want you to bring along his clothes.”

tagging:

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#drake walker #long post #cordonia 1885 #blood #vampires

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