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hoshifighting · 1 month ago

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seungkwan + professor/student roleplay

�� his grades are slipping. he has been too distracted in class, he wants to play it like that? fine.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, role-playing, he's a brat, spanking with a rule, hair pulling, reader bends him over to spank his ass, cock riding, sub!seungkwan & dom!reader, dirty talk.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

you tap the ruler against the desk, the sharp sound cutting through the air and grabbing his attention. seungkwan’s sitting there, slouched back in the chair with that stupid smirk on his face, like he thinks this is all a joke. he’s been like this the entire semester, cocky and full of himself, but today? today you're not letting him get away with it.

his tie’s loosened, shirt untucked, like he’s already given up on pretending. you lean back in your chair, crossing your legs, watching him through narrowed eyes.

“you know why you’re here, right?” you let your gaze flicker to his slouched posture before locking eyes with him again. “too distracted in class, not turning in assignments. not like you at all.”

he smirks, lips curling like he’s not taking you seriously, and it’s infuriating. “maybe i’m distracted by something better than class,” he throws back. “you ever think about that, professor?”

you feel your jaw tighten, fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. he’s playing with you, pushing just to see how far you’ll let him go. and that’s when you decide—he's not getting off easy. not today.

“stand up.” your voice is sharp, all business. his brows raise in surprise, but he does what you say, swaggering as if he’s still in control. the audacity. “you think this is a joke?”

you stand too, circling the desk slowly until you’re right behind him, close enough to feel the heat off his body. then, with no warning, you push him down over the desk, bending him at the waist. the gasp he lets out, half shock and half horny, is enough to make you smirk.

“you think you can get away with slacking off?” you ask, running the ruler down his back slowly before lifting it up. “you think you can play games in my class?”

the ruler you’ve been toying with taps against his ass, light at first. then you bring it down, hard, the sharp crack echoing through the room. seungkwan’s head jerks back, a breathless moan escaping his lips, jaw slack, eyes wide.

“not so confident now, are you?” you taunt, bringing the ruler down again, watching as his body jerks with the impact. his moans are soft at first, but the more you strike, the louder they get, until he’s practically whining.

“you’ve got to learn how to focus,” you murmur, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “maybe then you won’t be so distracted in class.”

he shivers under your breath, you can feel his desperation now, the way he’s pressing his hips into the desk, trying to get some kind of relief.

you grab a fistful of his hair, pulling him upright so his back slams against your chest. leaning in close, you whisper against his ear. “you wanna act like a brat? fine. but don’t think for a second i won’t punish you for it.”

his knees almost buckle at the words, and you feel the way his body reacts, the shallow breaths. he’s putty in your hands now, completely at your mercy.

“sit. down.”

you push him back into your chair, watching as he collapses into it, legs weak, breath uneven. waiting for your next move. you tap the ruler against his chin, forcing his gaze up to meet yours. “what’s your excuse now, seungkwan? still distracted?”

he swallows hard, lips curling into something between a smirk and surrender.

you smirk, watching seungkwan squirm beneath you, eyes wide as you straddle his lap, your skirt hiking up just enough to give him a glimpse of what’s coming. his hands grip the arms of the chair, knuckles turning white, but he’s not saying anything—he’s waiting, anticipating, his breath uneven as you lower yourself onto him, feeling every inch stretch you open.

“fuck,” he hisses, head falling back against the chair, his thighs twitching beneath you. your nails dig into his shoulders, grounding yourself, riding him slow, dragging it out, feeling the way his body responds. his eyes fluttering shut as he groans.

“what’s the matter?” you purr, leaning in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you roll your hips. “too much for you, seungkwan?”

his eyes snap open, that cocky smirk from earlier flickering back for a split second before disappearing into another moan. “you... wish,” he mutters, but his voice is shaky, betraying him.

you ride him harder, faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the empty classroom. every time his breath hitches, every time his body tenses, you know he’s close. you can feel the way he’s gripping you, the way his legs start to shake under you, and just when he’s on the edge, when he’s about to tip over, you pull up, lifting yourself off his cock entirely.

“shit,” seungkwan gasps, his hips jerking upwards, chasing the friction, his thighs wet and glistening from where you left him dripping. “fuck, don’t—”

you smile sweetly, hovering just above him, his cock twitching, leaking against your entrance but you don’t let him back inside. “oh, no, no, no,” you coo, tapping his cheek with the ruler, making his jaw clench. “you don’t get to cum yet.”

you can see the frustration all over his face, the way he’s trying so hard to keep it together. “please,” he groans, his voice cracking. “fuck, please…”

“please what?” you ask, voice dripping with fake innocence. you lower yourself just enough to let him feel the heat of you, but not enough to give him what he wants. “use your words, seungkwan.”

he bites his lip, head falling back again, but you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you. “tell me,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his, teasing, barely touching.

“fuck, please let me cum,” he finally breathes out, his voice strained, so desperate it makes your thighs clench. “please… professor, please… i’ll be good, i’ll focus— fuck, just—”

you hum in satisfaction, finally sinking back down onto him, watching his eyes roll back as you take him in again, deeper this time, setting a punishing rhythm. his hands fly to your hips, gripping hard, trying to fuck up into you, but you hold him down.

he’s close again, you can feel it, the way his body tenses under you, and just when he’s right there, you lift off again, watching him fall apart beneath you. his thighs are soaked now, a mess of sweat and slick, his cock throbbing against you, completely at your mercy.

“too bad,” you whisper, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip, his eyes glazed over, completely gone. “you don’t deserve it yet.”

[...]

you both collapse back into the chair, panting hard, bodies tangled togethher. he’s the first to break the silence, groaning softly as he rubs his face. “holy shit… was that real? or did i just hallucinate the best punishment of my life?”

you chuckle, sliding off his lap, letting yourself flop onto the floor beside him, your back resting against the desk. “yeah, that happened. you were a good little student, huh?” you tease, nudging his knee with your foot.

he rolls his eyes but he’s grinning, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “yeah, well, you’re one scary-ass professor,” he jokes, his voice still hoarse, but there’s a lightness to it now that the roleplay’s over. “i’m gonna be feeling that ruler for days.”

you smirk, reaching for the bottle of water on your desk and taking a sip before handing it to him. “good. maybe you’ll think twice about being a brat next time.”

“no promises,” he says, gulping down the water like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. then, leaning back in the chair, he glances at you, eyebrows raised. “you really get into it though, huh?”

“what, you thought i was gonna go easy on you?” you laugh, leaning your head back against the desk, looking up at the ceiling. “you’re the one who wanted to roleplay, remember? don’t act surprised when i take my job seriously.”

“yeah, i know, i know,” he mutters, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “just… didn’t expect to get, uh, that into it.”

you shoot him a look. “you were literally begging to cum, kwan.”

“okay, okay, chill!” he laughs, hands up in mock surrender. “point taken. i’m not complaining, alright? just… damn.”

you grin, stretching your legs out in front of you, feeling the soreness in your muscles. “you okay, though? i didn’t, like, go too hard or anything, right?”

he shakes his head, looking down at his still-twitching thighs with a smirk. “nah, it was perfect. you know me, i can take it.”

“yeah, i do,” you reply, leaning over to poke his side. “you’re a freak, seungkwan.”

he snorts, rolling his eyes again but the smile on his face doesn’t fade. “takes one to know one.”

there’s a comfortable silence between you for a moment before he glances over at you, his playful energy back in full force. “so… when’s our next ‘tutoring’ session? i think i still got a lot to learn.”

you laugh, pushing him lightly. “you seriously tryna fail just so i can ‘teach’ you again?”

“well, duh,” he grins, leaning down to press a playful kiss to your cheek. “i’m your star student, right?”

“more like the biggest pain in my ass,” you retort, but you can’t help the smile creeping onto your face. “we’ll see. maybe next time you can actually behave.”

“where’s the fun in that?” he winks, getting up from the chair, stretching his arms over his head with a groan. “besides, you love it when i don’t.”

you roll your eyes but you don’t deny it, watching as he gathers his clothes off the floor, still grinning like he just won the lottery. “you better get outta here before someone actually catches us.”

he slips his shirt back on, ruffling his hair as he looks down at you. “yeah, yeah. but you’re gonna think about me all night, aren’t you?”

you scoff, waving him off. “get outta here, seungkwan.”

“admit it!” he laughs, backing towards the door, that stupid grin still plastered on his face. “you can’t get enough of me.”

you shake your head, trying to fight back the smile that’s threatening to break free. “you’re the worst.”

he pauses in the doorway, looking back at you with a soft smile this time, the teasing fading for just a second. “nah, you love me.”

and before you can say anything back, he’s gone, leaving you sitting on the floor of the empty classroom

“i do seungkwannie, i do...”

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teasty · 4 years ago

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hold on tight || b.c (m)

"hi! can you write something about streetracer!chan x f reader where things got heated up 🥺🥺 i really like your works by the way, kiss yourself really is one of my jisung’s fav fic !!" - anon

a/n: holyashjdljzhldsa just the thought of streetracer!chan makes me... omg i don’t even KNOW, i'd actually go crazy... and omg tysm! that means so much to me :,( and you're gonna have to excuse me since there's so many things heated could mean i'm just gonna make it angsty and smutty,, also kinda went off for a fluffy ending because it's bang chan, the christiano bangnaldo, how can i not???

● pairing: bang chan x (fem) reader

● genre: a lil bit of fluff at the beginning | angst | smut (mdi!)

● requested? yes!

● words: 8.7k

→ summary:

You’ve never known about your boyfriend’s secret and very illegal job, if you could even call it that.

"Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight 'cause it's gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling."

It’s a cold, rainy night. You’re waiting comfortably on the couch, sitting there wrapped up in one of Chan’s blankets, waiting ever so patiently for his return. He’s not usually out this late, neither did his job usually end this late. Your mind was getting the worst kinds of ideas as you held your phone in your hand, more worry than anger coming over you. You couldn’t be mad at him, really, you were just worried something happened to him, since he wasn’t picking up your calls or even looking at your texts.

It’s around midnight, and you swore you wouldn’t sleep until you watched Chan, in all his glory, walk through the front door of your guys’s shared apartment. You’ve been dating Chan for years, ever since high school. And, now, even after graduating college and finding a stable job and apartment, Chan still tended to keep things from you. It was a bad habit of his, yes, but you couldn’t really be too mad at him for it. Besides, you’ll be able to help him out of that habit. Once he comes back, at least.

To wait, you decided to watch a bit of television to let your mind wander from the thought of something bad happening to Chan. Of course, the subtle thought of him cheating crossed your mind a few times, but Chan’s only ever been the most loyal and dedicated boyfriend, even past his pretty hard shell. He acts pretty tough sometimes, but you know that he’s just a little bit insecure about himself on the inside. Which, to you, is completely normal. Everyone’s at least a little bit insecure. You couldn’t blame him for that.

Getting with Chan was actually very difficult at first. You both had a rocky start before you started dating, since Chan was kind of like the cliche popular bad boy, and you were the snarky book nerd. You both started off arguing and bickering about everything. But, when you both got closer and closer, you began to see a softer, kinder side to him. And, like magic, you two started dating. You don’t really remember how it happened. It might’ve been just Chan saying, “Wanna date me?” or something like that just ‘cause it’s simple. However, getting it past your parents about your relationship with Chan was the most difficult in the world. They did not approve of him whatsoever. Even today, they’re still cautious of him even though Chan’s already proven his loyalty to you and swore to your parents that he’d never lay an aggressive finger on you.

You’re parents didn’t really like him because of his choice of outfits and friends, which was a stupid way to judge somebody in your opinion. So, no matter how many times they tried to break things off or distance you from Chan, you two always found your way back to each other. Though it was fun, all the sneaking out at three in the morning, saying you’re going over to a friends house when you’re really going to go see Chan and all the late night calls in a hushed tone, you’re glad you can finally relax about it and live peacefully with Chan without the need to sneak around.

But, your mind hasn’t been so peaceful these last few hours. There’s still no sign of Chan and no opened messages. You gave up on calling him after the fifth call had gone unanswered, and just decided to wait. Clutching your phone to your chest in case he were to call or text. Your eyes switch between the screen and the front door (which led into the living room).

You nearly jumped out of your blanket when your phone started ringing obnoxiously loud. Your heart beat loudly as you scrambled to look at the caller’s I.D. And, thankfully, it’s Chan. You’ve never answered so quickly.

“Chan?” Your excited voice squeaked out when you brought the phone close to your ear, a bright smile etching over your lips. Just happy that he’s in contact with you.

“Hey, darling,” Chan’s voice was husky and tired, and a little deeper than you remember. He must be exhausted, and you wondered if he had to stay late at work, “I’m so sorry for being out late. I’ll be home soon.”

“Alright… Is everything okay? What were you doing out so late?” You ask carefully, wrapping the blanket tightly around you.

“Work. My boss had me work over time. I would have texted you, but I was pretty busy,” in the distance, you can hear the sound of his car’s engine. He must be driving pretty fast. Chan also has a really nice car he saved up for and worked really hard for. It’s a smaller, good looking and really, really fast car. You could recognize that engine anywhere.

“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” You respond after a moment.

“It’s alright. Nothing to worry too much over,” you can hear Chan’s smile even through the phone, “And, by the way, could you do something for me before I get home?”

“Sure.”

“Could you make me something small to eat? I didn’t have the chance to eat dinner at work. If you could do that, that’d be so great, baby.” Chan says, and you get up off of the couch. Already heading for the kitchen.

“I could make you some jjajangmyeon? We have all the ingredients,” you say, surfing through your pantry.

“That’d be great, (Y/N). Thank you,” Chan sighs through the phone, and you pull out the ingredients.

“Of course. When will you be home?” You ask before he could hang up.

“I’ll be home in the next ten to fifteen minutes, at the least.” He says, and you can hear the engine get a little bit louder behind him, “I have to focus on the road. I’ll be home soon. I love you, baby.”

“Love you, too, Chan.” You respond, and hang up. Now with the satisfaction and the relief of knowing Chan’s coming home, you separate the ingredients out and start cooking (thank god you took that home economics class back in high school. You couldn’t cook for shit before that). Since Jjajangmyeon is a pretty slow cooked dish, you try your best with temperature control to fit it into the timeframe for when Chan gets home, wanting it to be ready for him.

You had your hair tied back as you cooked, occasionally looking up to watch the television, which was still on the random news channel from before. It talked about things you weren’t too interested in, so you only kept it on for background noise.

You were so immersed in cooking, you didn’t even notice the door slamming open and closed and a pair of heavy footsteps walking up to the kitchen. You jumped when Chan’s arms wrapped around your waist, his chin planting itself on your shoulder. He laughs tiredly at your reaction, and you turn to give him a subtle glare, but your smile deceived you.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry for coming home so late. I promise it wasn’t my intention,” Chan grumbles out, his words low and slightly slurred, mostly because he’s tired.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” you chuckle softly as you arrange two portions of the jjajangmyeon into two different bowls. Chan watches silently over your shoulder, “I’m just glad you’re home. You worried me. Please text me next time, before you stay overtime and don’t bother texting me. I worry a lot, you know?”

“I know, (Y/N). I know you worry too much for your own good,” Chan smiles softly, chuckling tiredly, “It’s one of the reasons I love you so much.”

You smile, flustered, and raise a warm hand to press against Chan’s cheek, turning your head to press a loving kiss to his temple, which is cold, even in the warm kitchen. “Dinner’s ready. Do you want to eat in bed?”

“Not if you’ll make me do the dishes directly afterwards,” Chan lets go of you to take his dish, and you take yours.

You cock a brow at him, “I was going to make you do them anyways. You’re not getting out of it that easily.” You giggle and tap his nose with the tip of your finger. “Come on. Take mine, too. I’ll shut everything down.” You hand your bowl to Chan, who takes it quickly as you scurry around, turning off the television. Turning off lights and putting the dishes in the sink.

Once Chan’s changed into more comfortable wear and you’re both comfortable in bed, watching some show on the TV while eating. Time at home was usually like this; relaxing. You’re cuddled up to Chan while he ate slowly. Once you both finished, you placed them on the nightstands for the time being.

Chan was asleep instantly. You were up a bit longer, still a bit run on adrenaline from worrying so much earlier, despite knowing you have to be up early for work. Chan didn’t have to work till the afternoon, but you had to be up early since you’re a librarian at the local public high school. Chan’s an assistant producer and works under a decently big entertainment company. It’s quite the drastic difference, but you being a pretty big book worm yourself, you decided it would be fun to be a librarian (mostly using your literature degree), even if it’s stressful at times. Chan’s work, however, is much more tedious than your own. Where you can usually go at your own pace, he has more strict deadlines and sometimes more difficult work.

So, you let Chan sleep on your stomach. His arms wrapped around you securely as his face nuzzled into the soft fabric of the oversized shirt you were wearing. You were up a bit longer, watching the TV while running your hands through Chan’s soft hair. Enjoying the moment for the time being before you, yourself, drifted off into a deep sleep.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You were the first one to wake up the next morning, per usual. You woke up to your alarm that Chan thankfully slept through. You got ready as quickly and quietly as you could. Since you work in a pretty professional environment, you wear something modest, but fits well with the fall weather and your fashion style. You wore a white long sleeved shirt and a pair of black slacks under a jacket with your university’s logo on it and a pair of sneakers. They weren’t too big on dress code for the teachers at the school, but the students still had to wear uniforms.

Before you left, you made Chan lunch for the day and yourself a lunch. You even bothered to wake him up briefly to give him a kiss goodbye and that you’ll be back early afternoon, although he’ll probably be at work, then. Chan, although three fourths asleep, gave you a tight hug and a kiss with a slurred ‘Love you’ before plopping back onto the bed and instantly falling back asleep.

Although Chan had quite the expensive car, he wasn’t quite fond of you driving it. You have your own car, and it’s fine. Mostly used to drive to and from work and nothing more, since most other things you were with Chan, so you both usually took his car. It’s not so much a matter of richer and poorer, his car just had more little trinkets and things that are just more convenient. You’re not completely sure what model his car is, all you know is that it’s expensive.

The school isn’t too far. It’s actually a ten minute drive from your apartment. You have to make it there pretty early, so the roads aren’t jam packed like they would be when Chan has to drive to work. So, you have a bit of an advantage there. When you get there, you’re met with the people in the front office, who bow respectfully to you, and you make your way to the library.

You set up at the large, round desk. You especially like being a librarian, because it’s quiet. You don’t think you’d do too well as a teacher, so you settled for a librarian since it was a good and easy way to use your literature degree and put it to good use, other than the fact you’re writing a novel, but that’s a whole other story (hehet).

It’s about half an hour before some students pile in, bidding you good morning and sitting down at the tables to study for whatever assignment or test they have, or to finish homework. Some of them go around to look at books, but most just sit by their lonesome and work on whatever while blasting profane music into their poor ears.

You were busying yourself going through overdue books, and emailing parents about student’s overdue books. You were immersed in your work, so you were somewhat shocked when someone tapped your shoulder. When you turned, you were met with the smiling face of your coworker. A middle aged, pretty woman named Jung Migyeong, who gave you the permission to call her ‘unnie’. She’s considerably your work - best friend. She’s the only person who really delved into conversation with you, unlike most of the other teachers who only talked to you about whatever book they’re class reading or for book suggestions (and you just choose the first book in the library that comes to mind).

“Oh, you scared me!” You giggle in a hushed tone, and Eunmi smiled brightly, her motherly aura giving you a sense of calmness.

“Sorry, sorry!” Eunmi sits on your desk, more leaning against it. Eunmi is really a pretty lady. Her hair is cut short to her shoulders, and she never wears makeup. Her natural tone is without blemishes or acne. She always wears pretty dresses to work, and she always carries around her purse for some odd reason. “I wanted to catch up with you. I didn’t realize you were so immersed in your work. I should’ve known, you’re more responsible than half the teachers here.”

“I try, I really do,” You respond, leaning back in the chair and smiling up at her, “Do you have a free period for the first hour?”

Eunmi nods, “Yes, I do. They switched it up just ‘cause of something wrong in the student's schedules. But, that’s past the point. How have things been going? In the home life?”

You shrug a shoulder, your smile dropping, “It’s… going. My boyfriend didn’t come home until, like, twelve - thirty last night. He said he had to stay late for work, but I don’t get it, Eunmi. He wouldn’t answer my calls or texts, and I don’t think his job prevents him from at least opening a text until he gets off, you know?”

“You said he’s a producer, right?” Eunmi asks, her head tilting down to look at you more clearly. You nod, “Well, he might’ve been busy with the idol. It’s pretty difficult work, I’m surprised he’s been able to keep up with it well.”

“Well, he came home hungry and tired,” you sigh again, “Which is weird because if he stays late he usually grabs something from the kitchen at the company building or fast food and eats it before he comes home. But, he was hungry… not super hungry, but I made him jjajangmyeon.”

"Jajangmyeon?" Eunmi’s head tilts, and one brow lifts and she scoffs, “That’s like a fifty minute dinner.”

“Not if you toy around with the temperatures, no,” you smile, and Eunmi shrugs a shoulder, “Eh, I was the one who suggested it to him. It’s one of his favorites, and he sounded exhausted and overworked so I though, you know, might as well. But, after eating, he was out like a light. You wouldn’t think that producing would make someone so tired.”

“You never know,” Eunmi reassures, “You seem to be really worried about this. You don’t think he’s cheating, do you?”

You quickly shake your head, “No, no! I know him, and I know that he would never do that to me. I think he’s just trying to hide something from me. I’m not mad at him, I just don’t want him to keep anything from me.”

“You’re not mad… yet!” Eunmi corrects, and your lips purse, “If he’s really hiding something from you, it must be pretty big. I would personally be surprised if you were able to keep your temper if you found out whatever it is he’s hiding. Cheating or not.”

You’ve never really been one to get extremely mad or even start arguments. As said before, you and Chan did have petty arguments back in high school, but since then, you’ve both matured. Chan always shut down a fight if you were getting too agitated, and you were usually never the first one to start up an argument, since your patience isn’t as thin as before. You will admit, though, you’d be decently upset if you found out Chan really was hiding something from you. You trust him so much, you thought there should’ve been nothing to hide.

“I suppose you’re right,” you lean your head against your hand, resting your elbow on the desk, “If there’s a good chance, I’ll talk to him about it tonight. If I want things to really work out with him, then there has to be complete trust and honesty with each other.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eunmi proudly says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with him, unnie,” you admit shamelessly, and Eunmi smiles wistfully, “I want to grow old with him. But I don’t want to live waking up every day at four in the morning and coming home to no one for hours on end. And, sometimes he won't come till midnight or morning.”

“Well, my husband and I used to have a lot of secrets, too. That we kept from each other,” Eunmi admits, reassuring you that you’re not the only one going through something like this, “The only way we were able to sort things through was by sitting down and talking to each other. Just telling all of our secrets to each other, even if they’re embarrassing or stupid. Just knowing the fact that we can trust each other with everything gives us that reassurance that we’re meant to be. Honesty is everything.”

You look down, thinking about the advice Eunmi had just given you, and you swallow down the growing lump of frustration in your throat, “Thank you for the advice, unnie. It means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I’m always free to talk, and you have my number if anything happens,” Eunmi smiles fondly, “And my doors are always open to you. I’ve spoken to my husband about you and he said that he’s always willing to keep our doors open. Just in case anything happens. You can’t be too careful, right?”

“Right,” you smile, flustered by Eunmi’s kindness, “Thank you so much. I’m… you’re right. If the worst of the worst happens and I’m booted out of my own apartment, then I’m at least glad to know that there’s some place I can go to that’s not three cities over.”

Eunmi laughs softly, and you laugh along with her, “I’m glad. Anyways, it’s about that time. I’m going to start heading back to my classroom. Let Chan know that I said hello, and that I wish you both well. Good luck, (Y/N).”

“Thanks, unnie. I’ll call you later,” you wave briefly as Eunmi makes her way out of the library, students bowing briefly to her as she passes.

You’re glad to have a friend like Eunmi. You’re lucky to have someone open their doors to you. Sometimes, you wonder if Eunmi views you as a younger sister, since she constantly rambles on and on about how she loves being called unnie or noona by her younger coworkers, even if she’s among the younger teachers. She’s like the sister you’ve never had. Sure, things had to be professional, but you’d like to spend more time with her out of the workplace. That would be fun.

The rest of the day is pretty slow. You had a few classes come in to pick up literature books, math books and to check out some books, but that was really it. You didn’t see Eunmi again, and left a few hours after the school closed. There was a bit of traffic on the way home, but it was mostly cleared up.

When you got home, you weren’t surprised to be met with an empty house. No sign of Chan, except the lunch you made him was gone, meaning he took it with him, thankfully, and he left a cute little note on a sticky note saying his thanks to you for making it for him. Which he usually did for you (you never bothered to throw them away. You actually kept them all in a little cigar box for safekeeping. Why? You didn’t know. You just felt like it.)

Like every day when you come home, you change into a pair of more comfortable clothing, which was just one of Chan’s hoodies you took out of his side of the closet, and a pair of ripped jeans. Since Chan didn’t do the dishes before he left, like you thought he would, you decided to do them to pass the time. In doing so, you turned on the TV for some background noise as you rolled up your sleeves to start scrubbing the dishes.

However, your attention was soon caught by the TV when the regular news anchor started talking about crime. At first, it was just about a robbery that took place in uptown, and that didn’t really suit your interest. What did catch your attention, enough to turn off the faucet and ignore the dishes to watch the TV, was when an all - too familiar black car with tinted windows and no license plate appeared on the screen, and there was a red car, too, but you didn’t recognize that one.

You turned up the volume, “Today, police are trying to look for these cars with no license plates caught on camera last night. They were suspected to be illegally street racing and gambling last night at around eleven o’ clock at night before being caught on security footage of a hotel nearby. If you can identify these cars, please contact the police immediately. One has been identified as a black Ferrari SF90 Stradale. The other has yet to be identified. If you see anything suspicious on the streets, please contact authorities. Here’s a clearer picture of both cars.”

And, that’s when it sparked you. One of the pictures of the black Ferrari was of the front. Despite the tinted window, you could clearly see a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the mirror and a familiar hand gripping the wheel tightly. How could you recognize it? Despite the low quality, you can see a familiar ring on the middle finger. A celtic design Chan loved so much.

“Oh… my fucking god,” your mouth drops open as realization hits, and you immediately dash to the bedroom to yank open Chan’s dresser drawer, one left vacant for paperwork to “keep things safe”, and you pull out his insurance for his car. And, there it is, in plain sight. Ferrari SF90 Stradale. Color; black. Windows; tinted. At first, shock pools through you. Doubt climbing up. There’s no way Chan’s a criminal. There’s no way that he’s the one in the Ferrari. It has to be someone else.

But, there was only one way to find out. You had to be sure it was him.

So, you grabbed your purse and your keys and threw on a pair of slip - on vans. The sun was already setting, and you nearly forgot to lock up before running to your car. Barely unlocking it before you throw yourself into it, not even bothering to buckle your seatbelt before driving off to god knows where. Your gut leading you, immediately driving towards the area shown on the news. You pull out your phone, trusting the wheel in one hand as you pull up Chan’s profile and call him, pressing the phone to your ear.

The ringing carries on and on until the familiar voice of Chan speaks up, telling you that he’s not available and to leave a message after the beep.

“Oh, fuck off!” You scream at your phone before trying to call him again. Again and again it led to voicemail. Voicemail after voicemail. You couldn’t text him, not with you driving.

After the tenth call, you let out a frustrated yell, hitting your wheel with your palm and trying your best not to cry. You might be overreacting, since there’s a large chance that it isn’t Chan. But, for some reason, you believed it. You believed, at least somewhat, that it was Chan’s car. That it was Chan in the car. You didn’t want to believe it, but you did.

And your questions coursing through your mind were soon answered when you pulled up to the spot from the news, it now twilight, the sun just being set over the city’s horizon. You pulled onto an empty freeway, and parked in an alley between two buildings. There’s a group of people and a ton of expensive cars around the freeway. There were people crowded around a table. Some girls sat on top of cars, talking and laughing to each other while wearing vulgar and revealing clothes. Your brows furrow, deciding to stay low for a while. You turn off the engine to your car and watch carefully, gripping your phone in your hand. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, popping beer bottles, laughing and talking amongst themselves.

But, it’s when the sound of a loud engine came into earshot, and everyone, including you, turned to see the source of the sound. The moment the crowd of people see who it is, they start to cheer loudly. Throwing up their hands. However, your mouth falls open once more as the black Ferrari SF90 Stradale with tinted windows and a black ice Little Tree air freshener hanging from the rear - view mirror. It pulls up to the crowd, and they all part to make way for it.

Instead of shock or sadness, anger and rage begins to boil inside of you, and you grip your steering wheel tightly as you watch Chan, Christopher Bang, step out of the car. People pat his shoulder, and he smiles widely at them. Giving a few people hugs and even smiling to some of the women, who tried to steal a hug from him, too. He’s wearing clothes you don’t ever remember seeing. He wears a black leather jacket over a white button up and black skinny jeans. You’d be impressed by how good he looks if you weren’t so upset.

You didn’t even have to look at your phone as you pulled up Chan’s profile and called him, pressing the phone roughly to your ear.

“Pick up… Pick the fuck up,” you grumble under your breath as you watch Chan. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and looks at it briefly.

Not even hesitating to hang up.

As you heard the familiar sound of Chan’s sweet voice telling you he’s not available at the moment and to leave a message after the beep, you finally have enough courage to get out of your car. Slamming the door shut and making your way out of the alley. They’re not too far, but it's a long enough walk for you to catch the eye of some people. You don’t even pause to rethink your decisions when a girl taps the chest of one of the guys, who glares at you with a raised brow.

The man that glared at you stepped away from the crowd, and you could barely see Chan over the people. He walks over to you, and you stop when the man is right in front of you, peering down you. The smell of cheap beer oozing off of him.

“And who the fuck are you?”

“Chan’s girlfriend, now get the fuck out of my way,” you try to push past him, but he grabs you by the arm. Tightly, too. Probably tight enough to leave a bruise after a while. “Hey! Let go of me.”

“No can do, princess,” the man says, smirking mercilessly down at you, his grip not loosening one bit, “Whether or not you’re Chan’s bitch doesn’t matter to me. It’s either you leave or I take you home and we have a good time. Well, I will, at least.” So, you tried to yank your arm from his, trying your best not to use your free hand to punch him in the face.

“Where’s Chan? Bring him to me.” You demand, and the man scoffs, chuckling.

“Fine, have it your way,” the man turns his head towards the crowd, a few people watch, and he says, “Grab Chan. This chick says she’s his girlfriend.” A few of them laugh at him, thinking it’s a joke. But, you stand your ground, glaring through the crowd. One of the people that laughed pushed through a few people. It takes a minute, and there’s a tense silence between you and the man as you try to pry his hand off.

But, as you suspected, a smiling Chan pushes through, but his smile instantly drops when he sees you.

“Hey, Chan. This chick’s babbling on about being your girl. Should I kick-”

“Get your hands off her right now before I shoot you in the face.” Chan interrupts, anger lacing his dark, deep voice. The man holding your arm instantly lets go and steps away, his hands rising in defense. Mumbling something about just ‘trying to keep things safe’. Once the man is away, Chan walks up to you, now being the one tightly gripping your arms. Leaning down so his face is close to yours.

“Why are you here, (Y/N)? Why the hell are you here?” He asks harshly, his voice full of surprise and desperation. He even shakes you slightly.

“You seriously thought I wouldn’t find out?” You snap, ignoring his question all together, “You thought I was dumb enough to let this go under? Well, I’ve been dumb for too long, Christopher. I’m not going to be like that anymore.” You know he’s not too big a fan of being called by his real name, but you do it anyway.

“Go home (Y/N). I’ll explain everything to you afterwards.” Chan says, placing a hand on your shoulder, trying to turn you away.

“No!” You yell, pushing his arms off you, “I am not going home, Chan! I am staying with you. I need to know what the hell all of this is. Right. Now.” You demand, and Chan shakes his head.

“No. You’re going home, (Y/N),” Chan tries to push you away again, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly and trying to turn you from the curious crowd. However, you weren’t going to be let off so easily. You swiftly turned around, letting your flying hand come in contact with Chan’s cheek. Smacking him. You made sure not to backhand him, knowing how much that could hurt. Besides, you don’t want to hurt him too much, you just want to get your point across, and he wasn’t listening to your words. He lets go of you again, his head flinging to the side because of the impact.

“I said no. I’m staying here,” You repeat yourself, and Chan’s eyes no longer lace with aggression, but worry. He doesn’t seem upset that you hit him. In fact, he seems to gloss over it. “I need to know what’s going on-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence until Chan grabs you by the wrist and pulls you into the crowd. They part to make way for him, and you aren’t able to muster out a sentence before Chan unlocked his car and shoves you forcefully into the passenger seat.

“Chan, what -”

“Shut up, buckle up and hold on tight ‘cause it’s gonna be one hell of a night for us, darling,” Chan snaps, and your lips clamp close at his harsh words. You didn’t expect that out of him. You could nearly cry right there. Chan backs away and slams the door shut, and you quickly scramble to put the seatbelt on as Chan yells something at the crowd, and they erupt in cheers. A few people scramble to get into different cars, and the rest stay back, keeping their distance. However, Chan didn’t seem too pleased as he walked around the car and into the passenger’s seat, locking the doors.

“Chan…”

“Quiet,” Chan snaps, revving the engine of the car. You can faintly hear the cheer of the onlookers behind as Chan pulls alongside the other three cars. A young woman wearing small shorts and an exposed shirt too small for fall walks ahead, and pulls a red cloth out of her back pocket. Her red lips smile bright as she lifts her red cloth. She holds up one finger, and Chan’s engine growls from behind, the car shaking along with it. Your hands go to grip the first thing, which is the cup holder in the center console and the door. Bracing yourself for what’s about to happen.

“Chan!”

“I said quiet!” Chan yells, sparing you a glance and your brows creased with worry as the woman holds up a second finger, and Chan’s hand grips the wheel as the other rests over the buttons.

She doesn’t hold up a third finger. Instead, she throws down the red cloth, and the moment she does so, Chan is off on the road. His foot slammed against the gas as he pushed his back against the seat and used one hand to effortlessly steer. You feel so impossibly scared in the car. A small part of you was debating whether or not you should have gone home, but you knew that it was the right decision to stay. To truly understand what’s been going on and what this is all about.

You try your best not to scream as the loud engine nearly bursts your eardrums.

“Chan… Chan, stop the car!” You scream, the need to vomit creeping up, even though you try to gulp it down.

“I can’t, (Y/N). I really can’t right now.” He says loudly over the engine.

“Please, Chan, just stop the car…!” You yell out again, and Chan finally glances at you, seeing your distressed look before his head snaps ahead again.

His hand swiftly reaches over to grip your thigh, as if trying to prove that you’re secure, “Calm down, (Y/N). You’ll be fine. We’re fine. I’m not stopping the car. Sorry, but I just can’t.”

“I should hate you for this, Chan!” You say, and you can see the way his knuckles turn white from gripping the wheel. “But I can’t… I just… Goddamn it, why!?”

“I can’t tell you that right now!” He yells back, looking over briefly before making a sharp turn, making you clutch onto the seat belt for protection, his hand now back over the buttons, “You just need to sit there until this is over, got it? I don’t care how scared you are, you’re gonna get through it like the strong woman you are, (Y/N), and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You look over to Chan, and his lips are downturned, his brows furrowed and his eyes glossed over, as if he could cry right there.

“But why didn’t you just tell me?! We wouldn’t be like this right now if you just told me, Chan, and that’s the truth.” You yell over the engine, and Chan bitterly and breathily chuckles, shaking his head as an angry smile casts over his lips.

“You wouldn’t have stayed with me if I told you, (Y/N), you know that.” His voice is a little softer. If any softer, you wouldn’t have heard him. “You would’ve left me.”

Your mouth falls open, and you shake your head, “Never… Never! Never, ever, accuse me of that. I would never leave you even if you killed a man, Chan, and that’s the truth!” He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even look at you as he turns another sharp corner, and you can see the other cars following behind, closing in. He sees it, too, and he presses some buttons you didn’t bother reading and slams his foot on the gas again. You let out a deep breath, still clutching the seat belt, “I just want to know why, Chan. Why are you resulting to this even though you have a stable job at the entertainment company, I-... I just want you to be honest with me.”

“I’ll tell you later, (Y/N). Just sit tight and keep your mouth shut. I need to focus or we’ll fucking crash, you got it!” He yells, and you flinch at his harsh tone. Finally keeping quiet.

The race seems like it lasts forever, when it was probably only five minutes. With sharp twists and turns and screeching of the engine in wheels, it feels like torture. You hate this, but there’s no backing out yet.

Chan doesn’t utter a word. Only cursing at the other cars when they do something that they weren’t supposed to do, or somehow start catching up to him. You let a few tears slip as you watch his hands and Chan as he focuses solely on the road. The lump in your throat is growing bigger and bigger, and swallowing it down seems to get more and more difficult.

But, it’s over at some point. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and Chan finally slowed down after reaching a pathetic excuse of a finish line. Your trembling hands grip the hem of the hoodie you were wearing as Chan comes to a steady stop. People come cheering as the other three cars pull up behind, being careful not to bump into anyone from the crowd. You breath heavily, and look over to Chan, who rolls down his window, plastering a triumphant smile on his lips.

“I don’t even get why I race against you, mate. You always win. Just take the money and get outta here,” says one of the racers playfully, tossing Chan a briefcase through the window.

“Thanks man. Good race,” Chan says, “Now, I have business to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

He rolls up the window, and the man who handed Chan the briefcase smacks the window playfully as Chan rushes off, his smile instantly vanishing as he goes through backgrounds to try and get to a main road without drawing too much attention. Chan’s smile drops, and he hands you the briefcase.

“You want to know so badly? Open it and be careful. It’ll be hell to clean up if you drop it,” Chan grumbles, looking over as you look to him for reassurance. He only gives you a cocked brow as you look back to the case in your lap before unlocking it and opening it. Your jaw falls as you look at the thousands of bills stacked on top of each other, rubber bands holding equal stacks together, and you gawk at just how much money Chan won from one race.

After a minute of you staring at the money, Chan slams the case closed in your lap, locking it with one hand and tossing it in the backseat making you jump at how hasty he is.

You both sit there, Chan driving to god knows where in tense silence. You're holding your head in your hands as Chan shifted his gaze between you and the road.

It’s about fifteen minutes until you look up, surprised that he’s still driving and nowhere near home. It’s an emptier city, but Chan seems to know the area well.

“Chan, where are we?” You ask, but Chan gives no answer. Only driving a bit further before pulling into an alley between two old buildings. “Chan, I said -”

You were quickly by Chan yanking off his seatbelt and leaning over the center console to firmly grab your face and pull you into a rough kiss. It isn’t too rushed, but it’s not at all gentle. You’re caught by surprise at first, but couldn’t help melting into it. It’s almost instinct at this point to kiss him back, but you push him away after a moment. “What… What the fuck are you doing?”

“Kissing you,” Chan answers briefly before grabbing locks of your hair at the back of your head and pulling you into another kiss, his other hand creeping down to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you let it slam against the car as it flies off you.

“No, Chan… We need to talk,” You grumble out as you try to pull away, and he presses wet, sloppy kisses to the side of your mouth. His eyes are fluttered shut, and your’s are half lidded. You will admit, you love this. The kisses and how unnaturally aggressive Chan is being. But, you knew that you have to talk things out, or you’d never get to figure out how the hell things turned out like this, “Chan, I’m serious right now.”

“Then relax, baby,” Chan breathily whispers out, and your thighs squeeze together, “Let me make things up to you, okay? I’ll fuck you so good, baby.” He pulls away for a moment, and he stares at you with a teasing smirk, “Think of it as my apology, alright?”

“Chan, I’m… I’m - ah! Chan!” You gasp when Chan’s lips come in contact with the side of your neck. Your neck is already tilting to give him more room, despite trying pathetically to push him away. There’s no getting through to him anymore. You’ve passed the point of no return, and there’s not much you could get past him without slapping him again. And that didn’t seem like a very good idea to you. Your hand flies up to grip the back of his neck, the other loosely clutching the hem of his button up.

“You know that… ah… that we are going to talk about this at some point…” you groan out, and Chan only groans against your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin. “You can’t get out of it like this…”

“Shut it, (Y/N),” Chan snaps, and your head falls back. Chan leans his seat back, aggressively grabbing you by the thighs to pull you over and sit on top of him. Straddling his waist despite it being such a tight environment. He pulls you down by the hoodie, into another kiss. You could feel how frustrated Chan is by the way he grips you tightly, as if you’re going to magically vanish, and by how he talks to you.

It’s rushed, too. Chan is impossibly quick to pull up your hoodie, his hot, sweaty hands creeping up your warm back, caressing it with a different, quick sense of gentleness. His lips connect with yours once again. His tongue already pressing against your lips. The quick, sloppy kiss all too lust filled. The erotic sounds coming from the both of you almost making you gloss over the fact that you should still be very mad at Chan. But, you just can’t find the need to pull away from him. You need to let off the steam, too.

You flush your body firm against him, one hand on his chest and the other by his head, holding onto the head of the seat for support. Breathing as slowly as you can through your nose to savor the air Chan so selfishly takes from you from the heated kiss. Your thoughts begin to vanish and your worry and concern for Chan’s life choices begin to falter for the time being. So immersed in the heated kiss to forget about it entirely. All your focus is now on Chan. You can tell how stressed he is, and the loving part of you wants to help him let off that steam. But, now, you’re in the same boat. So, he’s going to have to do so much for you as you’ve been doing for him.

Chan’s hands don’t bother to hesitate before they loop underneath your jeans, not caring to unbutton them as he tries his best to pull them off by himself. Because of how restricted you both are because of the size of the car, you had to do it yourself. You parted from the kiss and pressed your head against his shoulder to unbutton your jeans and pull them down as quickly as you could before throwing them in the back (along with your shoes and socks. You can already see how hard Chan’s gotten as his rough hands massage and knead your ass, only covered by the thin, black cloth keeping you at least somewhat covered. But, if this was like any other time, they’d be gone quicker than you’d imagine.

Your hands fly up again once your pants are thrown to the back, resting on either side of Chan’s head as he grips your hips, grinding your womanhood against his clothed hardon (you’re also clothed, but it’s so wet from your juices that it basically attaches itself to your skin). His head throws itself back, his eyes closing and a pleasure filled smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You press yourself against him, now propped up to be looming over him, sitting on him.

When you do press against him, his head snaps forward again, and his dark eyes glare up at you, “Don’t start getting proud, (Y/N). I’m gonna fucking break you.” His hand crawls up to grip your face in his hand. One of your hands weakly comes up to grip his wrist. His hand moving down to grip your throat, and your lips part blissfully as his fingers press into the sides of your neck, still allowing airflow through you. “Oh, fuck. You like being choked, huh? You like being choked like a slut don’t you?” You don’t answer, too nervous to and too caught up in the pleasure to actually let something other than a moan escape your lips.

“Talk to me, (Y/N). Use your fucking words,” Chan growls, and you swallow. The lump in your throat pressing painfully, yet blissfully against Chan’s hand.

“Fuck me, Chris. Fuck me…” You utter out his name, and Chan’s brow raises. But, he smirks nonetheless and lets go of your neck, and you let out a breath as he undoes his jeans and pulls them down to his feet. His hand palming his clothed cock briefly before pulling it out. His hard dick already leaking with precum.

“Condom…” You mutter, and Chan shakes his head. You look up to him with worry.

“Trust me, baby,” he mutters, and you sigh, leaning against him, pressing your body against his as Chan moves your panties out of the way before he aligns your throbbing cunt with his dick, and slowly pushing himself into you, raw. As his raw cock slowly becomes engulfed by your heat, Chan lets out low groans. Your face nuzzles into the side of his neck as Chan slowly guides you down until you’re sitting on his cock.

At first, he stays there like that. Not moving. You suspect it’s because the sane part of him wants you to get used to the feeling of his cock so deep in you without a condom, but Chan seems to keep you there for a few moments just for the sake of how good it feels without a condom. The way his head is leaned back, his lips slightly ajar and his eyes fluttered shut.

But, it doesn’t last long before Chan’s strong arms wrap around your waist, holding you up and starts ramming into you. His hips move so quickly, yet so efficiently as he burns your wet walls. You erupt in a series of loud moans, mixtures of Chan’s name and curses spilling out, too. Chan groans sometimes, right next to your ear. The sound of skin slapping against the fabric of Chan’s boxers echoing through the air tight car.

Your pussy burns from how fast Chan thrusts into you, keeping you at a steady position so he could have an easier time ramming himself into you without the difficulty of it being such a confined and restrictive place in the car (especially in the driver’s seat). The burn is so good for you, though. It’s such a numbing, euphoric feeling that you’ll crave later. A type of burn you could never provide yourself, only Chan.

Chan’s hands go from gripping your body to sliding up your side to gripping your hair and yanking your head back so he could look at you. A judgemental, sexy smirk adorning his lips as he sees how fucked out you are. Your mouth open as you moan, and your half lidded eyes occasionally closing from the bliss.

“Fucking hell… you’re so good for me, (Y/N). You take my cock so fucking well, don’t you?” You let out a choked moan as Chan’s hand grips harder on your hair, craning your neck. “Mmm… Baby girl can’t even talk to me… I know I said to shut it…” he laughs darkly through his moans, and your moans get louder when Chan lets go of your hair, letting your face fall back onto his shoulder as his hands grip your ass. Kneading them as he fucks himself into you. You clench helplessly around his cock.

“Oh… fuck, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? You wanna cum around my cock, baby girl?” You nod frantically, your climax climbing up as you push your body back to meet with Chan’s aggressive thrusts. Your overstimulated cunt only being destroyed by Chan’s cock as he thrusts harder into you, his hips staggering slightly as you clench around him. “Mmm! - Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Chan growls out as his hand grips your face again, forcing your head up as your eyes roll into the back of your head, a loud string of moans escaping your lips as you cum all over Chan’s cock, and he pulls out just quick enough to spurt out a string of cum along your ass.

He lets go of your face, and you breath heavily as you rest your head on Chan’s chest, closing your eyes to catch your breath. A burning sensation still resting in your core as you relax, your womanhood’s muscles contracting every now and then from the orgasm.

Chan cleans you both up with a napkin he had in the center console and helped you put your jeans back on (deciding to toss your soiled panties) and he slipped his jeans back on silently. It’s not until you’re sitting on his lap, resting your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he speaks.

“You know I love you so much, right?” Chan mumbles out, and you look up to him. “I was so mean to you today… when you must’ve been so confused.” His head falls back, and he looks out the window with a longing look in his eyes, “I’m the worst boyfriend in the world, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. Don’t even think things like that. Yes, I am still a bit upset, but you know what? We’re going to get past this because I love you, too, Channie.” You stare at him with an adoring expression adorning your sparkling eyes (trying to ignore the burning in your core).

“You… You want to know the real reason I’m a street racer, (Y/N)? Why the fuck I'm doing this?” Chan asks softly, his hand stroking your hair.

“If you could… I’ve been asking all day,” you chuckle softly, and Chan smiles bitterly.

“Well… I… I’m doing this all for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“No job will pay for the things I want to give you, (Y/N).” He turns over, reaching into the center console to pull out a black box, and your eyes widen as he opens it. You can’t see it, but you can barely see the sparkle of a something reflective. “I… I couldn’t pay for this myself. I knew I couldn’t. I hate how this is how I’m asking you… but, (Y/N), will you-”

“Oh my god, yes!”

1K notes · View notes

imagineredwood · 3 years ago

Text

“No matter what position we put you in, you won’t be able to close your legs.”

Summary: Coco and Angel got you a gift for the bedroom, that’s really for them, but still for you. But more for them.

Pairing: Poly!Angel x Coco x female reader

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, oral sex female receiving, bondage, slight verbal degradation, use of the name ‘slut’

Word count: 1.2K

A/N: How do y’all like this one? I’m just trying to write about different stuff and learn how not to get shy while writing it or get too shy to post it

“I got you something.”

You nodded and smiled as you looked at Coco opening the box. Angel corrected him from his spot on the bed beside you, fingers tracing along your shoulder.

“We got us something.”

Coco rolled his eyes and continued to open the long box, accepting Angel’s correction.

“Yes, it’s for all of us, but really it’s for you.”

You ignored the bickering between your two men and stayed smiling as you sat cross-legged on the bed, waiting to see just what this surprise gift was. It didn’t take Coco too long to finish unboxing the present, his hand reaching in and pulling out a long rose gold metal bar. There were buckled loops at either end and you knitted your brows as you looked at it, laughing in confusion.

“Thanks, baby...what is it?”

Coco chuckled and so did Angel, the latter leaning over to kiss your shoulder.

“Always so appreciative, no matter what.”

Coco nodded in agreement and then stepped closer to you, gift still in hand.

“It’s called a spreader bar.”

He dropped down to squat in front of you, taking your feet and bringing them to rest on the tops of his thighs. Grabbing the loops, he explained.

“Your ankles go in here. The bar stays between your feet and keeps them apart.”

You nodded, listening as he explained but still not grasping what the purpose was. Reading your mind, Angel cut to the chase.

“No matter what position we put you in, you won’t be able to close your legs.”

Coco nodded, that look you knew so well coming to his eyes, somehow still establishing dominance over you despite him practically kneeling at your feet.

“Whether you’re standing or laying on your back or face down ass up, you’ll be on display the entire time. Since you never seem to learn, we decided to take the option away from you. There won’t be any hiding from us.”

Angel grinned, his beard scratching against your shoulder blade as he nuzzled into you.

“That perfect little pussy is going to get more attention than it can fuckin’ handle.”

Your smile had already disappeared by now, replaced with the worried yet aroused look they had both come to know and love. Angel sat up from the bed and came to stand beside Coco, the sniper standing up as well, both of them now towering over you from your spot on the bed. Their eyes were hungry and they both chuckled at the same time seeing your face, that slowly more and more out of focus look that told them your pussy was taking over for your brain when it came to your decision making. Knowing it would only serve to get you more aroused, they started their banter about you as if you weren’t sitting right there, knowing how much you loved that.

“Look at her; practically drooling already and we haven’t even touched her.”

“Just the thought of being used by us is enough. You know that. Being our little toy is her favorite thing in the world.”

Angel leaned down toward you, taking your chin in his hand as he inquired.

“Isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

You nodded silently and Angel grinned, knowing that they already had you. Straightening back up, Angel motioned for you to stand, and of course, you obeyed.

“Everything off.”

You pouted and looked down at your socks, Angel shaking his head.

“The socks can stay, but everything else has to go.”

Doing yourself a favor, you listened and began stripping down as Coco made his way to The Box, retrieving all of the toys and gadgets they would be using on you tonight. Soon enough you were completely naked save for your favorite fuzzy socks and Coco was back by the bed, toys being placed neatly on the bed as Angel pointed to it as well.

“Lay down, on your back.”

Following directions, you climbed onto the bed and then turned over, laying down on the mattress and looking up at them. Their eyes raked over your body, jeans already tenting in the front as they eyed their girl. Coco was the first to snap back to it as always and grabbed your feet, fastening the buckles around your ankles before letting your legs go. You lowered them down and then tried to close your legs in every different position you could think of, to no avail. You whined, already thinking about the overstimulation that they were going to subject you to and Angel laughed, teasing you.

“You’re not being a little cry baby already are you? We haven’t even gotten to use you yet.”

His words went straight to your core and you reached your hands down to touch yourself only to be stopped by Coco, a small bunch of your favorite color rope suddenly binding your hands together.

“And that’s why I got this too. Since we all know you’re a greedy little slut.”

You huffed and Coco’s eyes quickly drifted up to meet yours, never one to tolerate your attitude like Angel sometimes did. You gulped and relaxed into the mattress, apologizing even if only to help your soon to be abused clit.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Coco continued staring at you for a few more seconds before nodding, accepting your apology. Angel had enough of waiting though and was eagerly pushing Coco to the side, running the tips of his ringed fingers over your pussy ever so gently, the touch almost tickling with how light it was. His fingers continued to dance over you, his thumb brushing across your clit every now and then only to ignore it for a few more passes. You never knew when the next touch was going to come, Angel always liking to use the element of surprise against you. Without warning, his thumb was stroking you directly, your legs jolting but unable to close, thanks to the bar. Coco’s eyes stayed on yours, voice softer than it had been earlier even if for only a moment.

“You remember your safe word?”

Your nod satiated him and he joined Angel in touching you then, his fingers touching and squeezing your breasts while Angel focused lower. Angel’s fingers were as skilled and diligent as always, his touch precise. Grabbing onto the bar, he pulled your legs up to give himself more room, Coco holding onto it and tugging it up further until you were entirely exposed. Angel growled, unable to resist, burning his face into your pussy while his fingers continued to gently stroke at your clit. It didn’t take long for your whines and moans to start, both men stroking themselves as they pleasured you. Coco continued to squeeze and tug at your nipples, Angel’s mouth devouring you. His beard scratched at the insides of your thighs, your legs trying desperately to close on their own. Angel finally pulled away, only to sink his ringed fingers into you deeply, wriggling them within you as he complained.

“I don’t know about this bar, homie. I miss feeling her thighs squeezing my head.”

Coco rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Flip her over and see if you feel the same.”

You both could see Angel’s mind working and it didn’t take long for him to concede, helping you turn over, your ass high in the air. The bar kept your legs a good distance apart, your glistening holes on full display and Angel cursed as he looked you over hungrily, hands working quickly at his belt.

“Yeah, you’re right. I love this fuckin’ bar.”

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl @elcococruz @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast @iambabyharry @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114 @saturnsaree @multiyfandomgirl40 @destynelseclipsa @sadeyesgf @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben @all-the-boys-to-the-yard @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon @abunnykisses @briana-mishell24 @angelreyesgirl @wrcn9fvlcver @peaches009 @capt-canadian @thesandbeneathmytoes @krysiewithak @darklingveracruz @appropriate-writers-name @cind-in-real-life @blessedboo @montanaraed @kkim120 @megapeacelovemusic-blog @emoengelfurleben @blowmymbackout @abby-splace @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @redpoodlern @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @danimals1096

Coco taglist

@maciiiofficial @emoengelfurleben @jatriciaaa @redpoodlern @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @witchygagirl @xonickibaby @myakai13 @fanfictiontrash9

Angel taglist

@cardenasarmy @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @maciiiofficial @abby-splace @redpoodlern @black-repunzel99 @justazzie @xonickibaby @myakai13 @fanfictiontrash9

#poly!angel x coco #coco cruz #angel reyes #angel x reader #coco x reader #angel x reader x coco #Mayans MC #Cry Baby Bitch Club 🍼#imagines #mayans imagine #crybaby!reader

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pajamamadonna · 2 years ago

Text

Unknown Pleasures

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40337385/chapters/102174954

Because I needed a scene where Eddie and Max meet (and some time to gush over Kate Bush).

A standalone chapter from a longer Hellcheer work.

---

It is a Thursday afternoon in the middle of May, the bugs buzzing—a heat to the breeze, which tugs at tendrils of their hair and cotton shirt hems. Butterflies balanced in the wind as Chrissy and Eddie lap from the mouth of the trailer, laughing. While the spring air molts its humming humidity, the overgrown grass—gnarled between sweeps of mud and snaking gravel roads—green and reaching itchy. Where the lawn blades buckle beneath Eddie’s rubber Reeboks—squashed as he struts. A pencil behind his ear—his tape deck in one fist, a stack of black-spined cassettes sliding (plastic clacking) in his other, his tongue tipped between his teeth in focus. Chrissy, trailing Eddie’s picnic table path—a textbook and binder clutched to her chest.

Pinched as Eddie notices that the table is already occupied. A slender girl slumped on its bench, her arms crossed—one red Van bouncing. Her headphones, two muffling discs absorbed by the orange of her hair. Sorrow in her stare. Eddie has seen her here before—recognizes her with a sink of sympathy. But she always scurries off before he can make conversation.

Though this time, she does not register her tripling company until it is too late to avoid the necessary grapes of greeting. Eddie, grinning as he clatters the toppling giraffe neck of tapes to the table—twisting from his waist (lean and lithe and darling) to slide the cassette player in its place amidst the wreckage. Drawing his shoulders and tugging his jeans up his hips (they had slipped). Before waving—his lips rolled in a line.

To which, the girl startles, shooting to her feet—her blue eyes wary as she snatches her silver Walkman from the table and readies to depart.

“Wait, wait wait—” Eddie urges, his palms submissive and flat—pleased as the girl unears her headphones—rhymed in a rinse of reluctance. “You don’t have to get up,” Eddie grins lazily, swinging a lolling wrist. “We’re just hanging out,” he says, hiking his knees to step (over) and settle (on) the opposite bench—moving like a marionette.

Brown-eyed beaming as the girl freezes, minding Eddie’s association with auburn uncertainty. Before she sinks back in her seat, her limbs brittle—never breaking the defensiveness of her glare.

Where Eddie looks her gently up and down—sluggish so as not to spook her. Deciding, eventually, on the girl’s slate blue band shirt, which sports a slap of sad-sack jangle pop.

“The Smiths,” he reads, sliding his elbows to the table and leaning forward with a grin. Convivial as he scrunches his nose. “They’re pretty whiny, right?” He glimmers in the kindness of his insult—as though he is admitting something shared (generous).

Still, the girl seems unsure, nodding sharply—its clip distracted as she traces the descent of Chrissy’s settling (sweet to Eddie’s left as she spreads her supplies).

So Eddie seeks to soothe the caution. “Cool hair though,” he says, pointing to the screen-printed quiff—black beneath the girl’s ginger braid. As Eddie flicks his finger towards her tape player. “Is that what you’re listening to?” He asks.

“No,” she shakes her head, stroking a loving finger along the plastic. “This is Kate Bush,” she says.

To which, Eddie presents an open palm, churning his chin with a grin—beckoning with his fingers.

Where the girl knits her brow in contemplated compliance. Before setting her jaw and pressing the black square button on her Walkman—ejecting and relinquishing the tape.

As Eddie scrapes his boxy tape player towards his chest, loosening leisurely—narrating his effort with a wordless rig of his brows. Where he opens the tape deck’s jaws and places the two oreo-cassette circles around their designated spokes. Clicking the door shut and pressing the red-arrowed rewind—back to the beginning (fruiting for the full effect). The button popping upon its completion.

So Eddie pokes a firm finger, smirking—his chin propped in his palm as the music begins to play. Carried by the synthy spine of the song’s start—its sound, urgent and odd. Overlapped, in its progression, by thick mallets (Elrond’s aqua horse hooves) thundering towards the booming beat of bright nova bursts. Brainy for the pickled belting of lyrics.

It doesn’t hurt me.

Do you want to feel how it feels?

Charged through the course of the song, its energy electric—exploratory, risky, raw, and feminine. Where Eddie sighs as the anthem concludes—his eyes eager. “Kate Bush, huh?” He steams a sloppy smile—strung as the next song starts to spin.

Slam.

It’s in the trees!

Slam, slam, slam.

It’s coming!

Earned as Eddie assesses. “She’s kinda a freak,” he welts the words warmly—appreciation in his appraisal. “So are you, Red,” he grins.

To which, the girl digs dryly. “Bit of a pot and kettle situation,” she says, smirking with the syrup of the burn.

So Eddie laughs—tracing the loops of Chrissy’s binder idly. Still, want for curating camaraderie, Eddie attempts to engage the girl once more—revealing his spread of clubs and jacks. “You’re Max Mayfield,” he says casually—recalling the brutishness of Max’s brother, his penchant for violence, and the freshness of his loss.

Too damaged for kindness.

His death, a rock nonetheless.

Where Max swallows at the reminder, rolling her eyes in an attempt at lifting elsewhere. “Yeah,” she says, shame in the press of her lips.

As Eddie smiles to bat it away. “I’m Eddie,” he says.

“I know,” Max nods.

“This is Chrissy,” Eddie swings a hand her way.

“Yeah,” Max says, impatience in her ice. “I know.”

So Chrissy tries. “Your hair is really pretty,” she offers gently.

To which, Max blinks—blanched like she does not understand the compliment (as though she expects something different). Where she ebbs her appreciation like the briny lap of a lagoon. “Thanks,” she says (dubious).

As Eddie jostles a grin between his ears, slugged of mutual humility. “How do you like Forest Hills?” He asks, opening his arms to the clock of the trailer park, snuggled unceremoniously (forgotten) in the wilting woods.

“It’s shit,” Max spits.

“Yeah, it sucks,” Eddie laughs, the sound like charcoal.

“I think it’s charming,” Chrissy says, her voice high as she rubs the heel of her hand on the table’s edge—so clearly out of place.

Where Eddie is struck by her spirit, leaning (like a tucking tilted tower) towards Chrissy with a smug smile—ducking briefly for a kiss. And basking in the profusion of her acceptance (his belonging).

“So you two are like…?” Max trails off, her lip curled in adolescent disgust.

While Eddie ties the sneakers of her thought, answering nasally. “Dating?’ He grins, giddy with the worming wheeze.

“Yeah,” Max affirms, blushing despite her decorated boredom.

To which, Chrissy smiles. “Yeah,” she says, placing an affectionate hand on Eddie’s arm.

“How the hell did that happen?” Max asks, before untightening—speaking hastily. “No offense,” she assuages, darting her stare from nose to nose—where Eddie cannot quite parse the intended recipient of her apology.

So he hums a throat-back groan, dawning in delivery—smiling with the sap of his equal misunderstanding (unresolved for the earning of luck). Nonetheless receiving that, which Max suggests. “You mean, how did Eddie The Freak Munson sweep Chrissy Cunningham, the Queen of Hawkins High off her feet?” He circles a grin.

“Yeah,” Max says, twisting her own soft smile.

“High charisma,” Eddie shrugs, reaching for the blank papers lined in Chrissy’s open binder—intending to crowd them with campaign brainstorming (a summer one-shot, the sun on his horizon). Prom (queasy) and graduation in the meantime.

Warmed as Chrissy shines his knight’s helmet. “And he plays guitar,” she smiles, her front teeth tied like a bow.

“Yeah,” Max says, looking shyly to her lap—stumbling a spell. “I knew that,” she says, wincing with the reveal (a flush on her face). “I can hear you sometimes,” she explains, shaking herself for composure.

Where Eddie is touched by her sweetness—licking his lips in flattered amusement. “You play?” He asks, plucking the pencil from behind his ear—wiggling the wobble of its stem into an animated yellow triangle.

“I don’t know how,” Max says, her disappointment evident.

“I could show you a few things,” Eddie offers. “Basic chords and shit.”

To which, Max brightens—turning pink in excitement. “You’d do that?” She says, emerging for a breath. The girl beneath the glower.

“Yeah,” Eddie grins. “Why not?” He says. “Then you can write your own songs—give Kate Bush a run for her money.”

Where Max nods—noble like a squire with a sword. “Cool,” she kicks a captured smile—its coax, a relief.

So Eddie chuckles, extending his hand for a shake. “Guitar lessons, okay?” He says as Max connects (another little lamb). “That’s a promise.”

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thesevro · 4 years ago

Text

wanna watch / gojo s. + nanami k.

𝖌𝖔𝖏𝖔 𝖘𝖆𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖚 + 𝖓𝖆𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖎 𝖐𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 2.3K words

𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: where gojo and nanami decide to get greedy. together. 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: explicit smut, voyeurism, polygamy, one mention of bondage, cum play

HIS AND THE other man's legs cross at almost the same time. Both are trying their damnedest to hide the largest secrets they could ever keep.

Gojo watches you move about with probing eyes. Ignores the innocence of your routine, how you bustle innocuously about with a distracted frown on your face as you kindly prepare coffee and tea for them and yourself. The scent of ground beans fills the air with thick redolence but he can only imagine the smell of your hair as he pulls it back with his hands. This happens in one of his fantasies. In another, he has his face buried in your locks as he fucks you from behind.

I bet she would taste sweet. The thought is such a prominent fantasy that he almost sees you there on the counter, legs spread, clothes as much of a mess as he can make you. He imagines sticking his head between your legs. Listening to the melody of your name spilling from your mouth. He swallows, tries to calm his nerves. He's never been more grateful for the blindfold over his eyes.

Nanami's eyes, hidden from behind his goggles, conceal none of his other tells. He half-fools himself into believing no one can see how his head tilts downward ever so slightly to eye the swell of your ass as you bend over to fetch a bag of coffee grains from a low cupboard. How he lets his eyes greedily devour the sight of the skin on your stomach as you reach for a coffee mug on a shelf high above your head, shirt rising. His jaw tightens. He has too many tells.

Want to bend her over that counter and fill her up.

He wants to run his hands over your stomach. Hook your thighs around his head as he eats you out. Slap your ass until you beg for him to keep going because he knows he can just be that good.

Must she really maintain perpetual seduction? I would like to enjoy her here. School policies could go and suck my—

The two men have the same thing on their minds. The same hedonism. The same nasty thoughts of fucking you until you see stars and cry their names. Makes their brows furrow ever so slightly, their breaths stutter in their chests.

Natural seductress, the pair concludes at the same time.

And you are the first to break the immense focus that has narrowed their visions to mere thoughts of fucking you into oblivion.

"What are you two looking at? You've been staring at me like a bunch of hungry dogs since I came in." You pretend to wave them away, still grinding up coffee with one hand. Boiling tea whistles in another pot. "Shoo, shoo~~ I don't have any food on me."

"Bunny," Gojo starts, rising from his seat with a hand already at the hem of his uniform. Ready to pull it off. Nanami follows. "There's something much tastier right here in front of us."

"Yes." Nanami reaches you first. He will never admit it but he has not always been the best at repressing his need for you. "I must agree with Gojo, for once. You would taste so much better."

"Oh." You smirk. "So you were watching?"

Gojo pauses. Then he laughs. Realizes something.

"You put on such a show for us... on purpose?" Nanami asks this with his teeth nipping at your ear. Gojo lets the man enjoy himself. You two have always been able to show him the naughtiest shit. Sometimes he wonders if Nanami was a sex god in his past life. Occasionally... the blonde had been able to show him, his natural enemy, a very, very good time as well.

"Well. I don't see why I couldn't have done that." You chuckle softly in response to Nanami's query, reaching for Gojo. He kisses your hand. The inside of your wrist. Then he gently pushes Nanami to the side so he can raise you up on the counter.

Nanami cocks his head at Gojo as the other man pulls back to switch the boiling tea off. The blonde raises a question with his eyes as Gojo only crosses his arms and leans back into the counter.

"Only feel like watching today," Gojo says, shrugging.

"Aww," you whine, pouting at him from your place. "But I want you to join us! That was the whole point of my show. Won't be the same without you."

"Careful bunny," Gojo warns, wagging a finger. "We both know that Nanami gets jealous easily."

"...Uh, no, he doesn't." You and Nanami share a dubious glance with each other. "Well, Nanami and I both know you can be a very big dumbass sometimes. Always bouncing around with candy. Always copping a feel of my ass and Nanami's man tiddies whenever you get the chance—"

"Alright honey. That's enough." Nanami molds his mouth into yours. His hand clasps your hip. Another hand grasps the side of your neck in one large palm. You shiver at the hold he has on your neck. Spread your legs wider so he can stand between you.

Nanami slips a hand between your thighs. His fingers explore very familiar territory. He's touched you here many times before.

Your shoulders tense as he slides two fingers along your slit. You wind your fingers through the back of his hair. Let it be a small anchoring point for you as Nanami fucks you with his fingers.

"Nanami, fuck," you swear as he flicks your clit, and this makes Gojo and Nanami himself shift in place to adjust their pants. "Don't make me wait. Let's make this a good show for our audience."

You lace your fingers through his tie. Pull it off and toss it in Gojo's direction so that it lands to hang over his shoulder. Gojo cheers. You and Nanami kiss once more. His tongue warms yours in your mouth. You get the smallest openings to get a taste of his mouth.

He makes sure you keep your shirt on. If anyone were to walk in... well, Gojo wouldn't be fired on the spot, he was much too valuable. You would be allowed to remain with your position as the second strongest sorcerer, too. Him... well, maybe he could just become your concubine.

But he slips two of your buttons off. It shows enough skin for him to mark. He is careful not to leave any above your collarbone as he pulls away from your mouth to nibble and bite at the flesh bulging from your bra.

"Wish we could take it all off," Gojo murmurs as he watches Nanami ravage you. His pants have come undone. He holds his cock in one hand. Strokes it languidly as he listens keenly to your pants and Nanami's grunts. He loves the sounds you both make.

"Maybe putting your cock in my mouth would make things a little better for us," you suggest with a wavering smirk. It disappears completely as Nanami pulls your panties off. He throws it in Gojo's direction as well. Let it be another token of appreciation for their most loyal viewer.

Gojo shifts again as your pretty undergarments land right on his shoulder. He almost strides over to you and does exactly as you asked of him. But control has always been his one point of mastery, unlikely as it seems.

"Let's let you and Nanami enjoy this by yourselves, bunny."

Nanami fingers your slick folds with insidious circular motions. He doesn't stop these motions as he undoes his belt. You push both his hands away to undo it yourself, and to do it properly. It's always been satisfying to unbuckle the length of leather from around his hips. More so to let him wrap it around your wrists. But you have no time for that.

The tongue of the belt hangs just by his hips as you pull his boxers down. You conjure a condom from a pocket in your skirt, grinning slyly at Nanami as he stares down at you in bewilderment. You slide it over his cock. He tenses with the work of your skilled hands, stomach clenching. Absent lube, you briefly wet the rubber with spit to let Nanami's travel to your cunny be a smooth one.

Nanami cups your bottom with a hand. Half your ass hangs over the counter, just enough for the position to stay comfortable but far enough off the counter for him to lead his cock into your cunt. His eyes close as you grab his goggles between two fingers and pull it off his face. He presses his forehead to yours and gives you a chaste, simple kiss. You wrap your hands around his neck to kiss him with the same affection, smiling gently into the kiss. The moment between you is so intimate Gojo nearly feels guilty for bearing witness.

"Gonna get inside you, darling," Nanami murmurs, pulling away from the kiss. He buries his face into your neck with his first slide into you. His breaths come out in grunts. When you whisper his name with that wonderful breathy tone that comes from you every time he or Gojo fucks you, he almost moans.

Nanami possesses this sweet inclination towards fucking you nice and slow in the beginning of a round. But the threat of a peeping Tom (would likely be, unintentionally on the boy's part, Yuji) looms over your heads and frees him of his inhibitions. His first thrust is slow. Gentle, even. Then he pounds into you so hard your body reacts and twitches on its own.

"Fuck! Nanami!"

He does this. Again and again. Creates a rhythm violent enough to crack the counter as his knees meet it with each thrust. Even Gojo doesn't notice. Too much of his focus lies on enjoying such a glorious show.

The sounds of his cock fucking your pussy are downright filthy. Force Nanami to be forthright and he would accurately call them pornographic. Your moans are just as salacious, and the closeness of each sound of pleasure that escapes your lips makes him rut into you with harsher vigor. You bury your head into his shoulder. Cry out into his neck. He can feel the sounds on his skin.

The cold metal of his belt buckle cools the hot skin on one of your thighs. The roughness of that leather rubbing to a part of you so close to your cunt makes your pussy convulse. Nanami pants quietly at the overwhelming sensation of your hole squeezing him. He turns to Gojo with hooded eyes. They widen once the sight before him comes into focus.

"Darling," he grunts out into your neck. "Look at Gojo."

Gojo doesn't notice yours or Nanami's gazes. He ruts into his hand, pumping it over his cock in wild motions. He's thrown his head back in ecstasy, luxuriating in the memorized images of you drooling while Nanami fucks you and the face Nanami made only a minute ago as you clenched around him particularly tight. His throat bobs as he feels himself near his peak. He pants. Breaths the beat of a hummingbird's wings. The man looks absolutely ethereal fucking his own hand.

He notices how the sounds of your fucking have stopped. He pulls his head back forward, concerned but still dazed with lust. He blinks at you and Nanami. Eyes following movement as you hold a hand out to him once more.

"Join us, baby," you insist.

"You look needy," Nanami intones with a ghost of a laugh.

Still, Gojo hesitates.

"Gojo." The firmness in Nanami's voice makes him impossibly harder. He and the other man stare at each other with sin in the eyes. "Come." Nanami curls a finger, beckoning Gojo over. "Make her cum."

And this time he is not willing to protest.

Gojo saunters over to you. Presses a kiss to your bruised mouth and another to Nanami's. He strokes his cock while slipping a hand between the close proximity of yours and Nanami's hips. His fingers find your clit quickly.

You start another rhythm. A more desperate one. You hang just on the edge of your high. The muscles in Nanami's abdomen are tight. Gojo is just as close. Not so far behind. And when your hand slips downward to let him fuck your palm and fingers, he has to lean into your shoulder to keep himself from falling over.

You are the first to unwind. The two men look up to commit the sight of the peak of pleasure on your face to their memory. They savor your moans. Nanami fucks you a little harder. Groans as the hot fist of your pussy squeezes him, milks him. His balls tighten as he empties load into you.

Gojo leaves a mess on your hands as he cums. Sighs into your neck as his eyes roll back. His body shudders with Nanami's as he cums with the other man almost simultaneously.

It takes some time for your bodies to relax. It is dangerous to hang around here, with Gojo's cock in your hand and Nanami's length in your cunt. But this was a good show. One you put all efforts into perfecting.

Nanami kisses your neck tenderly before pulling his cock out of you. You shiver as it slides from your cunt. Nanami wipes at the wet slick between your thighs with a handkerchief while Gojo buttons your shirt up again. They baby you while their cocks hang out like monstrous masses. You almost laugh. It's vulgarly comedic.

Nanami smooths your hair and kisses you again, then steps back to fix his own clothes. Gojo sets your collar straight and smiles tiredly at you, then rests back next to you on the counter to pull his pants up. You raise a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning against Gojo in exhaustion.

Your eyes catch something, and before you can fix your hair you see the white streaking your hand. You blink dumbly at the mess on your palm. It's sticky between your fingers. When the idea comes to you, a feline-like sense of danger returns to your features.

"Gojo, Nanami," you call. Gojo looks to you with a smile that falls immediately as you perform what you know will not be the denouement of your show. Nanami observes your actions with a dipped head and a growl forming in his throat.

The two men are forced to undress once more as you lick at Gojo's cum with the indecency of a starved minx. Tongue between your fingers. Cum sliding down your throat as you lap it all up.

This time, you lock the door. A good idea on your part. Because the round lasts well into the afternoon. Many knocks sound on the door as you enjoy yourselves.

It is a delightful way to spend a day at work.

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nextdoor-neighbors · 4 years ago

Text

Rumors Only Grow (Pt 2)

Link to Part 1!

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Smut; oral (male and female receiving), unprotected sex

A/N: it’s finally here! i know a lot of you guys wanted this so in honor of the twins’ birthday, i finally got around to finishing it. happy birthday to my favorite gingers!

The Room of Requirement had quite the reputation amongst the horny teenagers of Hogwarts. You had always promised yourself that you weren’t going to stoop that low and become that desperate to need the room for a hookup, yet here you are.

As you make your way through the halls and up the stairs, you can’t stop thinking about the events that occurred in the library, reliving the feelings of Fred’s fingers inside of you and George’s mouth on you. Just the memories alone make you wet, as if you aren’t practically dripping already.

You smile and greet a few people on your walk, but thankfully, nobody stops to try and have a conversation with you.

Once you reach the seventh floor, sure enough, there are the doors to the Room of Requirement. The concept of the room amazes you; you and the twins stumbled upon it a few years ago, and it’d become very useful for getaways after pulling pranks on people. Sometimes, it was just a simple broom closet just big enough for the three of you to hide in, away from Filch. Other times, when you had something more elaborate to plan, it looked like a classroom. And as you open the door now, you feel your face turn bright red as you realize it’s taken the appearance of a dorm room, only with one, larger bed, instead of five small ones. No wonder people have used this room so often.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing there in awe, gazing around the room, when you here the door open behind you. You jump slighty and turn, the noise loud in the otherwise silent room.

There they are, mischievous grins on their faces as George quietly pushes the door closed.

“Quite the setup you’ve got here, Y/L/N,” Fred says, his gaze panning the room and finally landing on you, slowly looking you up and down, his desire obvious in his eyes. You look over to George, whose expression mirrors his twin’s.

You’re at a loss for words, which is definitely an unusual thing for you; after being friends with the twins for so long, you’d become rather good at quick, witty, and flirty remarks, but right now, your mind was a blank slate.

Thankfully, you don’t have to stand in the awkward, tense silence much longer, because George takes it upon himself to cross the gap between the two of you and cup your face with one hand, running his thumb over your bottom lip. Your breath hitches at the touch and you immediately crave more.

“You were making quite the scene in the library,” he says, quietly, “I’m surprised you didn’t get us caught.”

Fred comes up behind him, carefully watching how you respond to George’s touch.

“Why don’t you take her over to the bed, George? I think she’d be more comfortable there,” Fred says, looking you up and down once more.

“Fantastic idea, Fred. I was thinking exactly the same thing.”

You’re sure that the twins can hear your heart pounding as the three of you make your way over to the bed. You climb on to it, looking over expectantly at the boys, not sure what their plan is.

The twins look at each other until George tilts his head towards you.

“Why don’t you go ahead first, Fred?”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Fred replies, and turns to smirk at you. “Lay down for me, darling?”

You obey as he joins you on the bed, positioned on his knees. His fingers slide up your bare legs until they reach the hem of your skirt. He tugs both your skirt and panties down in one motion, tossing them to the side. He eyes between your legs, that damned smirk still on his lips as he wastes no time in sliding two fingers inside of you.

“Fuck,” you hiss at the sensation.

“So wet for us,” Fred murmurs softly, shifting his position so that he can lower his mouth to you. His fingers still inside of you, his tongue starts to circle your clit, and you buck your hips up as you let out a moan, your eyes shutting.

“That’s it, Y/N. We want to hear you.” You open your eyes to see George, who’s now walking around the side of the bed so that he can be closer to you. As he walks, he works at undoing the buckle of his belt, wearing a similar smirk as Fred.

You feel your orgasm building as Fred continues on you with his fingers and mouth, so you let out another moan as you tilt your head back, squeezing your eyes shut again. With your eyes still closed, you feel George taking one of your hands and wrapping it around his dick. You hear his breath hitch at your touch, but you can’t focus on him yet - not when you’re so close to finishing yourself.

“I’m so close,” you whimper, wrapping your other hand in Fred’s hair, but as soon as you speak, Fred reaches up to remove your hand from his hair as he pulls away from you.

Your other hand is still wrapped around George, and he starts to guide your hand up and down.

“Not yet, darling,” Fred says to you. You squeeze your thighs together, craving some sort of relief for yourself as you continue to stroke George, who has taken his own hand away to let you be in control.

Now being able to focus completely on George, you decide to shift your position on the bed, turning on to your side and propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can take his dick into your mouth. He groans loudly, reaching forward to put a hand on the back of your head and wrap his fingers in your hair. He starts thrusting his hips ever so slightly, following your movements so that he goes even deeper into your mouth, causing you to gag.

You swear that you hear the jangling of a belt buckle coming from Fred’s direction, and after another moment of sucking George, you feel Fred’s hands on your legs, moving them apart. Since you’re still laying on your side, he straddles one of your legs, moving the other up so that he position himself correctly, teasing the tip of his dick against your entrance until you can’t take it anymore.

You pull back from George, mostly for air, but also to glance over at Fred to say, “Put it in already.”

He grins. “So impatient, Y/N. But, if you insist.”

Fred grips your hip tightly as he pushes himself into you, both of you groaning in pleasure as he fills you.

You turn your attention back to George, who’s looking down at you with a lust-filled gaze. But instead of letting you be mostly in control this time, he puts his hand on the back of your head to hold you in place as you open your mouth to take him again.

The pleasure and sensations are almost too much to bear: George fucking your mouth while Fred begins to pound in and out of you, both of their moans filling the room. Not long after, George starts to throb in your mouth, and you know that he’s close. After a few more pumps, he releases, and you swallow everything.

“Good girl,” he praises, stepping back and pulling his boxers and pants back up as Fred continues to fuck you. You let your head fall back on the bed, moaning, knowing that you’re close, and that Fred is, too, as his thrusts get less and less controlled.

You finally orgasm hard a few moments later, Fred following your lead, both of you breathing heavily as you pull away from each other. You smile shyly at George, who grins back at you from where he’s standing next to the bed.

“Well,” Fred says, breaking the silence as he pulls his pants back up. George bends over to pick up your skirt and panties, handing them to you. You smile gratefully at him, but you really don’t want to move. You don’t even know if you’ll be able to at all.

“I suppose the rumors are true now,” Fred continues, winking at you. You bite back a grin as you lift your hips to tug your clothes back on.

“I suppose they are,” you answer, “Dare I say that it was a good thing that those rumors were started in the first place?”

“Why’s that, Y/N?” George grins, sharing a mischievous look with his twin.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Fred says, “You think we wouldn’t have ended up doing this eventually anyway?”

You’re not sure how to answer, but hearing Fred say that definitely makes you feel some type of way. George helps you up off the bed, and while your legs are definitely shaky, you can walk - for now, that is.

You walk side by side through the halls headed towards the common room. Fred and George had both assured you more than once before you left the Room of Requirements that it wasn’t too obvious that you been doing what you’d been doing, but then again, it’s not like the rumors haven’t already been going around.

“There you three are!” exclaims Lee Jordan as soon as you walk into the common room. His gaze shifts between the three of you, and he raises his eyebrows. “Where the bloody hell were you?”

You glance up between the twins, who both grin and answer at the same time:

“Homework.”

#weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #fred and george weasley #weasley twins fic #weasley twins fanfiction #fred weasley fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #hp fanfiction #harry potter #fred weasley x you #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #fred weasley x y/n

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wormstacheangel · 3 years ago

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For The Girl Who Has Everything

Masterpost link for Reelin’ In The Years: Here

AO3 Link: Here

wc: 2.4k Summary: Claire is too mad to even look at Cas let alone talk to him. Dean knew he had to step up because two people with messed up childhoods and anger issues really need to spend more time together talking about their feelings.

When Chuck was defeated, a lot of people came to the bunker to celebrate. Those times were a big blur to Dean, his focus was on finding a way to save Cas, and it wasn’t until he saw Claire run down those steps that the world focused again. She smiled at him, a rare big grin, before her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him down for a hug with an intoxicating giggle.

‘She didn’t know,’ Dean thought as his arms hung loosely at his sides.

He hid his face in her curls, not knowing how to face another kid Cas left behind because of him. He was holding his breath when she pulled away to look at him. Her eyebrows were raised in a question that Dean didn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear.

She repeated it, “Dude, where’s Cas? Is the old man sleeping or something?”

‘Yes.’ Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat.

He didn’t look at the audience around them when he finally opened his mouth to say, “Claire, Ca—” He couldn’t say his name. He felt like it would tear the fragile wall that was keeping him on his feet if he did. “I’m sorry.”

Dean watched as her face twisted into confusion, understanding, and then settling into anger.

She was trying to fight the tears, but they fell as she yelled, “No! No, you were—Where were you? Why didn’t you protect him?”

“He protected me. He—he saved me.”

She looked at him with round eyes, shaking her head as if not wanting to believe it.

“Then it should’ve been you! You should’ve died! Not him!” Dean flinched at the words that have been echoing in his head since that night. “It’s not fair!”

Claire’s angry fist collided with his chest. He flinched at every hit but didn’t back away as her punches became sporadic but still filled with grief. Maybe even guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Dean knew those words did nothing to comfort, but he couldn’t help but say them. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”

She screamed in frustration until her punches weakened, and he was holding her. Then, finally, she fell against him, her face hidden in his chest as her grip tightened on his shirt.

She didn’t stay after that.

She walked back up the stairs with Jody and Kaia following behind her. Jack tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t even look at him. Dean couldn’t blame her.

It’s hard to look at the kid when he reminded them of the person they lost.

Of course, Dean never told Cas any of this.

Since coming back, Cas had been dealing with the silent treatment from the killer Barbie. She only replied with the thumbs-up emoji, and when Cas was too much, she responded with the middle finger emoji. A little warning advising Cas to back off.

She only visited him once, but that was when Cas was in the hospital. She freaked out, yelled at him for being stupid, and then passed out by his bed only to leave the next morning like nothing ever happened. Still, it made Cas feel a little better knowing she still cared, but she was dealing with it her way. Or, as Cas liked to say, she was dealing with feelings the Dean Winchester way. Of course, he’ll argue it wasn’t true, but he knows he won’t win that one.

Now he was sitting awkwardly in Jody’s living room watching Kaia and Patience play with Jack on the floor while Claire and Cas had a yelling match in the privacy of the backyard. Well, Claire was yelling while Cas was trying very hard to keep his tone even, which only made Claire angrier.

“I’m done talking to you!” Claire slid the glass door open and stormed through the living room.

“Then try listening to me!” Cas followed behind her, watching as she walked straight past the living room and towards the front door. “Claire. Claire, where are you going?”

She whipped around to glare daggers at Cas, eyes wide filled with tears, but she still looked at him with a pained grimace. “Did you even think of me? When you were out there being a damn hero. Did you-Did you think of me?” Her voice breaking on the last word made Dean flinch.

“Claire, of course-”

“No. No, of course, you didn’t. Cause if you did, then you wouldn’t have-” She bit her cheek as tears started to fall. She stood tall, presenting as strong, as her expression hardened. “You left me, Castiel. And now I-I don’t,” She looked around the room. It was quiet as everyone watched the interaction before her eyes landed on a little Jack in Kaia’s arms. She clicked her tongue before turning back to the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Claire.” Cas tried following her, but Dean quickly rushed up to stop him. “Dean. I may not have my strength, but I will-”

“Calm down, Rocky,” Dean had a hand on Cas’s shoulder to stop him. “I just wanted to stop you from making it worse.”

“I don’t think I can. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t.” He assures his boyfriend with a little smile, but Cas simply rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, you stay here. Talk to your son, and I’ll go talk to the other kid.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to say to her?”

“I don’t know, but like you said before. Two fuck up’s just understand each other.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just let me handle this. You trust me, right?”

Cas made a face at that, not answering quickly enough before he said, “Just bring her home.”

“Gee. Thanks for the confidence, babe.”

Dean ran after Claire, forcing his way to her passenger side as she started to back up on the driveway.

“Thanks for waiting, kid. Where we going?” Dean buckled up just in time for Claire to slam the breaks. Unfortunately, he hit his head on the front dash because the damn seat was scooted forward, his knees were practically pressed against his chest, which made sense knowing a tiny Kaia would usually occupy the seat. “Ow.”

“You aren’t going anywhere. Get out.”

Dean ignored her scary and oddly familiar glare as he pushed the seat back so his legs could fit. “Oh, come on. My treat.”

She didn’t have time to argue because Cas walked out of the front door—his trust in him really was lacking—and Claire decided that dealing with Dean was much easier than having to talk to Cas again. But, of course, he would take that as a compliment.

Claire drove with loud rocker girl music vibrating the windows and didn’t stop until she finally parked outside some ice cream shop.

“I want a shake.” She sniffled, and Dean did his best to ignore her red blotchy eyes for her sake.

“Sure, kid.”

They drank their shakes and shared some fries while sitting on top of Claire’s ugly little red. Well, she sat, and he leaned, but either way, silence remained.

He didn’t want to pressure her to talk—she would probably lie if he did—but still, he wanted to ease the tension between Cas and her, salvage a relationship he knew was important to both of them, but he didn’t know where to start.

Maybe he could start with his own guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat as he felt the smooth ice cream start to turn to gum down his throat. He looked down at his shake, lifting the straw up and down to hear the gloppy sound while trying to figure out what to say to her.

She hummed, “‘bout what?”

“Not telling you. About Cas. What happened to him.” He sighed and looked back at her. “Sorry. I should have called, but I wasn’t—I was a mess. I couldn’t be there for you. I couldn’t even be there for Jack. I should have-”

“It’s okay.” She waved her hand up to stop him. “I-I get it. I mean, it’s not, but whatever.”

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’re mad?”

She rolled her eyes, once again the gesture was familiar, before slamming the shake on the hood and sliding off the car. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking so small as she kicked a pebble on the floor.

“He replaced me.”

Her voice was quiet. Almost like she didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I know it’s stupid and-and I’m acting like a child, but…” She quickly sniffled again before running her hand through her hair nervously. Looking up to stare into the darkening sky, acting like everything was okay. “He’s not my Dad, but he’s the closest thing I have, and I just thought—I just thought that maybe he felt the same way.”

She shrugged, her lips pinching together as if trying to hold something back, before retaking control of her expression. A glare directed towards Dean replaced the lost child stare into the stars, but the lost child was still there.

“Kid…” Dean sighed, head scrambling for words.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me.”

Claire teased with a little smirk. She definitely learned this from Dean or Jody. “Whatever you say, old man.”

“Old—Claire.” She let out a breath of a laugh before rolling her eyes away from Dean. “I’m trying to be serious. Cas… he loves you. He-he loves you like you were his own.” She didn’t look at him, but he could see her face scrunch up, ready to argue. “He worries about you constantly, and Jack knows all about you because he won’t shut up about how awesome you are.”

“He says that? He says I’m awesome?”

“Well, awesome is my word, but you get the gist.” He turns to face her even though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “Cas may not be your Dad, but he loves you like a daughter. Sometimes—yeah, a lot of the time actually—he makes stupid decisions, but it’s cause he is trying his best. And he cares. That dumbass cares way too much about the damn world, but he’s also someone who would give up the whole world if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Stop making excuses for him!”

“Claire, you gotta believe me. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She finally turned to look at him. “But he did. He hurt me! He left me!”

“He left me too!” Dean raised his voice; it sounded broken to admit such a thing out loud. And to Claire of all people. He slumped down against the car again and looked at the ground to ignore her big blue eyes throwing sympathy glares his way. “He left me—more times than you know. And—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—but I…I was scared. Each goddamn time I’m scared that this may be it! That this time…this time he won’t come back to me.”

“But he did.” Her voice sounded so far away.

“Yeah. Had to work a little bit harder on my end, but I got him.” He reached over and patted her shoulder. “We got him back.”

Something in the way her eyes went cold and far away made his fight drain out. He didn’t know what else he could do or say, but he opened his arms just in time to have her fall against him. His face mushed into her curls while he hugged her tight into his chest.

“Were you mad at Cas?”

Dean thought about it for a second. “No. I mean, I was at first. That asshole got himself killed over and over again. Leaving me alone.”

“But you had Sam. Jack.”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled back and looked down at her. “Well, you had Jody. Kaia. Alex. Patience and even Donna. Made it any easier for you?”

“No.”

“No.” He chuckled while she hid her face from him, asking him to continue. “But I was mad at him. Real fucking pissed, actually. At him. At…at everyone. Sam and Jack didn’t even wanna be near me.” He tries to shake off those dark memories of screaming and feeling nothing but agonizing loneliness. “I just shut down and gave up on…a lot of things because he was gone. Couldn’t really see a point, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I get why you’re mad, Claire. Trust me, I do, but he’s back now.”

“And I’m just supposed to forgive him? Did you just forgive him?”

Dean shrugged, looking back down at her sad baby blues. Hoping she would understand and that she won’t tease him about it later on. “I didn’t want to waste any time being mad at him. I love him too much.”

“Gross.” She pushed him away this time, tucking her hair behind her ear before smiling at him. It reminded him of Jack’s little shy smile. “But I-I think you’re right. Maybe I’m done wasting time.”

They drove back with the music luckily a little lower but Dean just watched Claire drive with a growing smile on his face. He’s gonna have to admit that Cas was right, two messed up people can really relate and help each other out.

When they walked into the house, Dean took Jody from marching over to Claire to lecture her. “Just wait,” he whispered to her, and luckily she listened to him. They both held their breath as Claire walked over to Cas—who looked like he had been sitting in that seat freaking out since they left—and asked if they could try talking outside again. He blinked up at her a few times before nodding, following her to the backyard again.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief when the glass door closed behind them.

“Dean.” He looked up towards his kid, who reached for him from Kaia’s arms on the couch. Dean quickly walked over to pick him up, pressing a kiss to his head while trying not to let guilt eat at him. “Is Dad okay?”

“Don’t worry, bud.” Dean watched Jack’s eyes that showed how much he has experienced, how much he understood. “He’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

On the drive back, Cas had a smile plastered across his face. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened, considering Cas walked in, ready to introduce Jack to Claire. Then Cas spent the rest of the night watching his kids getting along, looking the happiest Dean had seen him in a really long time.

“So, what did you and Claire talk about?”

Cas hummed before looking up at Dean as if just remembering that he was there. “Oh. Um, she just made me promise her something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Same thing I promised you. Don’t get dead anymore.”

“Oh. Good. Keep that promise.”

“I’ll do my best.” Cas looked back at Jack before he leaned over and pressed a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I have a lot to live for now. A family.”

A family. Yeah.

Dean took a peek at Jack with the mirror and then watched as Cas changed his phone background pic to one of Claire spinning Jack around in the living room.

They were a real family.

#shhhh we are gonna pretend it hasn't been months since i updated lol #4 months geez okay well have this #wormstachewrites #dadstiel #destiel #claire #baby!jack #dean #cas #jack #destiel fanfic

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piningfor-pinestwins · 3 years ago

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Natural Attraction - Confrontations (Stan X Reader Slow Burn; Eventual Not SFW)

Yawning, you find yourself still dozing off while stretching out your legs, waiting for Fiddleford to finish packing up his tent while the twins bicker about the “correct” way to fold a sleeping bag. You smile to yourself, cracking open an eye and biting your tongue from making a comment about this being why you’d brought a quilt instead, but you keep it to yourself as you lean forward to stretch. Wincing as you roll your injured ankle back and forth, you’re reminded of the night you’d dealt with.

It ached as you adjusted your shoe on your foot, tying the shoelaces tighter to try and support your ankle a little better for the trek ahead. Ford hasn’t said much (to you, anyway--he’s still very wordy when it comes to his current argument with his brother as the both of them shove differently-folded sleeping bags away into their respective packs), but you’re certain that the day will prove to be long and tiring. Still, as you fix the tops of your socks, you have an odd sense of...hopefulness? Excitement? You aren’t sure, but the anticipation is strong.

The sensation only grows as Stan comes toward the tree you’re leaned up against. Warmth flutters in your stomach when he catches your eye, a knowing sort of smile spread across his cheeks when he adjusts his and your bags onto his shoulder. He clears his throat as he reaches his hand down to you, his smile warming you from the inside. “Hey, you. About ready to head out?” He asks, voice soft with an almost-gravelly sleepiness which makes you smile.

As I’ll ever be, you answer as you take his hand. Stan pulls you up slowly, your hand in his with his other arm outstretched to catch your side, just in case. Wincing as you put weight onto your tweaked ankle, you hold to Stan a little tighter, all the while hearing his voice whisper soft encouragements until you’re upright. “That’s it, honey--slower, slower,” he soothes. You’re unsure if it’s his words, the gravel in his voice, or proximity, but your cheeks flush at his soft urging, a flutter in your chest. His outstretched arm is closer now, that hand resting securely on your lower back to remind you of its presence, gently brushing his thumb against your hip (which, frankly, doesn't help, since the flutter only moves to your belly).

“There ya go, hon. Y’feeling any better today?” Stan levels his gaze to you, the concern knitting his brows together in a way that makes you smile, averting your eyes quickly so he can't see the tenderness there. You reach, patting his chest lightly to ease his mind when you meet his eye again, Feeling just fine, thank you.

“Kissed you all better?” He asks low, voice playful as he quirks a brow down at you. You flush as your own brows shoot upward, pushing lightly on his chest as you urgently shush him, looking toward where Ford and Fidds are chatting. The both of them quickly avert their gazes, knowing smiles still spreading their cheeks as they turn away--you almost wish you hadn’t caught them looking.

Your cheeks burn despite your smile, giving the cocky man ahead of you a stern look, Don’t be so obvious, Stanley, you tease in a whisper, your thumbs brushing lightly over the hem of the white tank top he wears, acting as though you’re smoothing down his shirt. Your hands drop away with one final pat, smiling wider when he looks at you with something akin to surprise. “Sorry, hon. Just...a little giddy this morning, is all.”

Wonder why? You hum in question, shaking your head as you hold out your hand toward him. At first, he stalls, eyeing your hand with a furrowed brow, questioning. He reaches to take your hand, a bashful sort of smile growing on his face before you motion to your bag. He coughs a gruff sound, and you only barely save him the embarrassment this time, looking down as you feel your smile at his pinkened cheeks. He releases your hand easily, trading its place with the strap of your bag as he turns to look toward the other two instead, lightly rubbing at the back of his neck. You take the duffle bag, looping your arms into the straps to turn it into a good-enough backpack for the trek ahead.

You stretch your ankle gingerly, biting into the inside of your cheek. Surely, there should be some sort of tracks for your creature somewhere around here… Moving carefully to test your first few steps, you crouch beneath a tree limb, leaving the familiar grassy space to try and find your next clues to where it may be.

“Hey--don’t run off!” Fiddleford scolds from his place beside Ford, taking a few steps as he reaches, as if to catch you in the act, “Even if it’s sunny out, yer luck hasn’t been great for the past….well, 12 hours.” You almost laugh, shaking your head, Not running off, just...trying to find where we go next, you explain. He keeps walking closer, a little smile budding on his face as he comes to join you. “At least lemme help you,” he teases, pushing away a branch near the top of your head. You look over to him and duck under it as you laugh, Thanks, Fidds.

“The last tracks we’d seen were just that direction,” He points toward the unnervingly-familiar patch from the night before, and you frown as you take a few more tentative steps. “I’m sure there’s more o’them somewhere around here....”

Fidds moves alongside you, the both of you looking for some sort of indication of the creature. It’s almost frustrating--you’re certain something had to be here, some sign of the damn thing. You finally huff, a frown pulling at your lips when you look to Fiddleford, not far off in his own search. “I can’t find anything, either--”

“Hey, uh...guys?” Stan’s voice calls from the other side of the brush, sounding almost concerned in a way that makes your stomach drop in worry. Your eyes meet Fidds’, sharing a furrow-browed glance between you as you both move toward the grassy spot once more, toward Stan’s voice.

Stan? Are you okay? You call, looking out from the brush, your question joined by Ford’s voice, calling at the same time, “Stanley?”

You spy the twin as he’s readjusting his pants, buttoning his fly and re-buckling his belt as he walks up the hill you’d been ‘attacked’ at the night before. You quirk a brow, eyes trained on his fingers at his belt before realizing what he had been doing that far down the hill, feeling a flush as you quickly look up to his face instead.

“What’d you see?” Ford asks his twin, knowing the tone of his voice well. “Well, ah...remember when she,” Stan motions to you, “had an owl bothering her last night? It was around here, right?” He asks you with a furrowed brow, hands finished with the buckle as he motions to the ground near the top of the hill. You finally look at him again, biting your lip as you nod, Right over, uh….here, you say, eyes narrowing at the spot he’s referring to. In the area you’d fallen, you can see the scuff marks of your shoes going down the hill, and a strange indentation in the grass, right in the same spot.

“...Huh,” Fiddleford hums, moving to the dip in the grass and pushing some of the longer tufts away, finding two large tracks, looking very much the same as the tracks you’d followed from the cabin.

“There’s no way,” Ford murmurs, rushing ahead closer to see the tracks, too. He looks up, toward the direction of the trees where you’d all seen the owl last night. “If these are here, that must mean, either the owl last night was much bigger than we’d all expected, or--”

“Or your big ‘birdlike thing’ came around afterward to check us out.” Stan finishes, crossing his arms. He looks almost uncomfortable, looking over you with something unreadable in his gaze before pointing the same look towards his brother and Fiddleford. “I guess it makes it easier to track, but...I dunno, I’m a little weirded out that the thing is as interested in us as we are in it.”

“Nonsense,” Fiddleford shakes his head, standing from where he’d crouched with a quiet grunt, “We don’t have all those pieces, Stanley--we can’t just assume the thing’s a menace, just ‘cause it ends up near our campsite. Maybe it’s more a sign that we just… tracked it real good?”

You shrug, I’m sure it’s just an...odd, albeit helpful, coincidence. Stan doesn’t look swayed, arms still folded across his chest. Sighing, you nod, I admit, it’s weird. And a creature my size being hunted by an owl isn’t normal by any means, but...is anything in this town normal? You pose the question toward the man, who’s still frowning down at you in uncertainty. He finally sighs, relenting, “Not at all. Alright. But if this gets freakier, I say we call it off and head home.”

Ford scoffs at his brother’s insistence, shaking his head. “If the creature is hostile, that’s even more reason to track it,” He argues, continuing, “God forbid the thing tries to come for the town.”

Stan’s brow furrows, and you can instantly tell that his brother has struck a nerve. “God forbid the thing goes after one of us again! Especially her!” He scowls, motioning to you with his hand as he takes a step closer to his twin. “The fucker’s got big feet, look,” he points down to the tracks, “If he decides to grab one of us and fly off next time one of us goes off for a piss, we’re screwed.”

Ford rolls his eyes, but says nothing more as he shakes his head. You can tell the action annoys Stan, the latter clenching a fist at his side. You reach to him, one hand landing on Stan’s arm to pull his focus back. He turns to look at you, a frown still on his face, but more relaxed now.

eI know you’re worried, you start, smile warming up, But you know...I can handle myself. You wink, putting up your fists as if prepping to fight. The action makes him scoff a laugh, shaking his head at you as he speaks, “Right--I almost forgot, you’re a killer.” He winks, a hint of the dimple at his cheek peeking out at you, even as he rubs at his face to calm down a little. He takes a breath and you release his arm, eyeing Ford and Fidds, the latter being the only one who meets your eye (and rolls his own, apparently very used to the duo’s mini-arguments).

Alright boys, you say with a smile, pushing your thumbs into the straps that rest on your shoulders when all three heads turn to look at you, I’m ready to track down a weird bird creature, how about you?

“Of course!” Ford laughs as he answers, argument easily dismissed. He moves, only struggling a little as he hoists his heavy backpack into place. Fiddleford snickers at the brunet, pulling one of the straps of the backpack up to help the man put his arm through the loop, “Hold onto yer britches, Ford--there you go.” The taller man smiles wide at his friend before nodding at you, “I’ve been ready. We’ve gotta take advantage of the daylight for as long as we’ve got it.” You smile at Fiddleford in agreement, glancing to Stan beside you with a quirked brow, surprised to find him already looking your way.

Stanley finally grins, his gaze catching you off guard in a way that makes your chest flutter, and you find yourself mimicking his smile when he reaches to clap a hand on your shoulder, giving you a little shake, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good,” Ford pipes up, instantly making the former twin’s smile falter. Ford doesn’t seem to notice, taking one last glance around at the grassy space you’d used as a resting point for the evening, just to be sure. “We haven’t got time to lose. As you so graciously found out,” He motions in your direction, peeking at you from over the rims of his glasses, “Being out in the dark isn’t quite the safest option we have, both in terrain navigation and… creature interaction, I suppose.”

You scoff a quiet, No shit, which causes Stan to snort a laugh beside you. All things considered, last night wasn’t too bad, but… bits of it were scary, to say the least. The ache in your foot reminds you to keep your eyes on the ground just as much as you’re watching for signs of the creature, though it seems the boys are doing their best to keep you on your feet, too.

Unlucky only begins to describe the hike of the day. After the strap on Ford’s backpack broke, and Stan had to cut himself out of a thorny bramble with just a pocket knife, the four of you were sure that the rest of the day would be a little easier.

You were wrong, you realized, when the only-slightly-cloudy sky became much more cloudy and started thundering.

“Fuckin’...” Stan grits, using the bottom of his already soaked t-shirt to wipe away the rain mingling with sweat dripping down his forehead, “Did any of you geniuses decide to check the weather before we set off to find your little monster?”

“It’s just a little rain, Stanley,” Ford scoffs, walking ahead of his brother, “Contrary to popular belief, you won’t melt.”

“Y’could track any kind of creature with your heavy machine, but you can’t even turn on the tv to look at the news once in a while? Especially when the whole damn family’s coming out on a hike?” The twin argues, and even though he’s kind of chewing you out too, you find yourself snorting a laugh. It is a little ridiculous, you can admit. It’s even more ridiculous when Ford whips around to look back at his brother in annoyance, and you see him squinting at the both of you, glasses absolutely useless as they rest atop his head, fat water droplets sticking to the lenses and rolling off to saturate his hair even more. Stan snorts then, casting a glance to you as he does, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” Despite his frustration with the weather, Stan’s voice holds no real malice, the indent in his cheek almost giving him away as he continues to follow his brother and Fiddleford.

“Dammit, if we could just...get somethin’,” Fidds murmurs, his own glasses folded closed and hanging from the collar of his button-up. “Even if it’s rainin’, there should be a sign of the creature somewhere, right?” He turns back to look at you, an almost pleading look in his eye. You jog a little, boots squelching in the muddy ground as you get closer to the front of the pack.

Surely there’s some signs, you agree, offering a sympathetic smile his way. Fidds is intrigued by this thing, you can tell; maybe even a little more than he usually is in the creatures you find in town. As you look for a sign, any sign, you step a little quicker, getting in front of the pack. Really, there should be something…

The more you look, you realize, the more you find. Whether that’s a good thing or not, you’re unsure. Guys! You call, turning to look over your shoulder at the group and finding yourself considerably further away from them than you’d expected. There are tracks here in the mud! I-I think it might have trouble flying in the rain? Your voice lifts like a question, Ford’s voice calling after you over the rain, “Wait for us! We don’t want a repeat of the last time,” he warns. You know he’s right; as it begins to storm in earnest now, the grass and earth at your feet seem to relax beneath you, steadily becoming mush at your heels.

You wait just a few moments more for the boys to catch up, hearing the muted sounds of their huffing and puffing up to you. Entranced, you stare down at the muddied floor of the forest, the tracks in the mud seeming to beckon you to follow them. If you were fast enough, you might be able to snap a picture of the prints without your camera getting too wet. It would help in tracking the creature further, and whatever research comes next…

You bite at your bottom lip as you adjust your bag onto your shoulder, rummaging through the slightly-damp insides as Fidds catches up to you, looking down at the tracks much like you had been. “Woah,” He starts, almost breathless, “These are the best prints we’ve seen from this thing yet! Lookit--you can see every segment of the thing’s foot, all the way to its claws...How big d’ya think this thing is? The whole foot’s almost as big as my hand,” The honey blond man crouches down, even in the mud, to inspect and absorb as much information as he can, stretching his palm next to the print but not touching the mud beneath.

I don’t know if that’s an accurate measurement, you tease with a grunt, turning your back to the heaviest of the rain and the other tracks, You’re a tall, lanky guy. If its claws are that big, I’m sure it may be proportionally huge, you finish with a laugh. He glances up to see you fumbling just a little, trying to block the rain from hitting your camera full force and get the footprint and his hand in the shot all at once. Fidds snorts a laugh, and you smile as you shake your head down to him, your wet hair mimicking the motion out of the corner of your eye as you scoff a fond, Shut up.

In your movement, you’ve turned to be able to watch as the other two boys make their way up to you, glancing to see the both of their bodies coming into view, smile still on your face when you look through the viewfinder to center the shot. You know you don’t have much time left to have your camera out in this rain without ruining some film or the mechanisms inside it, so you’re quick to press the button, even as you hear Fiddleford gasp at something behind you at the same moment. The flash of your camera goes off, the light similar to a strike of lightning, illuminating the woods around you in one brief second. You move the camera from your face, reaching to start and put it away despite the sound of it printing the snapshot.

Fidds, what’s wrong? You ask over the loud rain, turning your head in time to look at him, seeing…fear? You don’t have the time to think or ask anything else as Fiddleford stands abruptly and grips your arm, nearly knocking your camera from your hand as he yanks you back toward the way you came. You yell out, frightened by the sudden change in the man, until you turn your head to see why.

“WATCH OUT!” Stan’s voice bellows over the downpour, suddenly so much closer than you’d imagined. When you’d glanced up at them, you hadn’t noticed the duo were running, mud caking their shoes and the bottom of their pant legs as the twins made their way toward you and Fidds. Now they’re right in front of you, looking up and over you with something akin to fear as Stan throws something--you think a rock--at the thing.

This must be the creature, the feeling of dread in your stomach at the sight of it reminding you of the hillside incident the night before. It stands somehow taller than you’d imagined on the feet that match those prints, a mass of pitch-colored ….hair? feathers? looming tall against the trees of the forest. You’re not sure where its height ends and its wingspan begins, neither more entrancing, or terrifying, than its eyes. Big, red and almost-shining eyes watch as you’re pulled by Fidds, nearly running face-first into the chests of the Pines men. The rock Stan threw hits it square in where its chest would be, were it a man, and the creature seems to puff up more, appearing larger as its wingspan opens, remarkable and terrifying all at once even as they drip with the incessant rain.

The four of you watch up at the beast, wide-eyed. You would almost swear Ford was enamored with the thing, if it weren’t for the tightening of his grip on Fidd’s sleeve, all of you panting from either exertion or pure adrenaline-toned fear. Thinking on your feet, you push down on the camera’s shutter and point the thing at the creature, hoping for a moment that the flash would blind it as you back into Stan’s chest. In the same instant, lightning strikes, rendering your flash useless as the thundering clouds rumble loud enough to feel in your chest, the storm right atop you now. The creature rears back, then lets out a high, wailing screech unlike anything you’ve heard before. It steals your breath, and before you can react, Stan has a hand wrapped around your arm, fingers firm in his grip to you as he pants, a word stumbling from his lips in one harsh breath.

“Run.”

#nic's fics #stan pines x reader #gravity falls x reader #stanley pines #grunkle stan x reader #[mr. mystery]#pspspsps come get y'all juice #but also tell me if you like my fic please i like interaction

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mymegumi · 3 years ago

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drifting lights

pairing: kuroo tetsurou x fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.0k words

warnings: late night drive, sad thoughts, idk, driving and swears

note: another repost from zumis, but anyways giggles i hope you like it bc i wrote a bit more and edited it!!

dedicated: to @tetsustation as an apology for saying i hoped furudate’s least fav char would be kuroo </3 it was a joke /lh

“hey,” kuroo’s words are soft in your ear, volume turned down on your phone to make sure your roommates don’t wake up, “did i wake you?”

“mm,” you’re still groggy from sleep and his voice is a soft timbre against your ear, “s’okay, what’s up?

“can’t a guy just call his girlfriend?”

you hum as you think, turning in bed as you tuck your blanket underneath your chin. across the room, your eyes are blurrily trying to focus on the blinding red letters sitting idly on your analog clock. “not when it’s almost two am, ‘suro.”

“well,” he at least has the decency to sound as apologetic as he can over the phone, “i really did just miss you, wanted to hear your voice.”

it’s only kuroo’s fault when your phone slips from your hands, pillow pressed to your face with your hands as you scream as silently as you can into it. without meaning to, he makes butterflies erupt in your stomach and you try to gather yourself as you bring your phone back up to your ear, hand loosely against your mouth.

“it is way too early for you to be doing this to me,” your scolding is light, and from his faint chuckle, has most likely fallen on deaf ears, “is there anything you want me to do for you?”

there’s a pause and you can hear a little bit of shuffling around from kuroo’s end of the phone before his voice is back, slightly softer than before, “you could come outside.”

“what?”

“you heard me, sweetheart,” you can practically hear the teasing smile that’s on his face as you sit up in your bed, pushing the curtain away from your window to look outside. sure enough, you can recognize the silhouette of your boyfriend faintly illuminated by the streetlight, “come outside.”

“you’re so lucky,” his laughter is cut short as you hang up on him. you climb out of bed and grab a hoodie off of your desk chair, shoving your phone in your pocket as you open your door as quietly as possible.

sneaking downstairs isn’t an issue, and while you shove your shoes on carelessly, you take the quick minute you’re standing still to shove the sweater you had stolen from kuroo over your head. it hangs low, but you’re pulling the heel of your shoes back into their rightful positions as you’re leaving your house.

the door closes with a soft click, and a pair of hands end up resting on your hips as a familiar weight is pressed against the top of your head. it’s not long before kuroo’s arms are wrapped around your waist firmly, and you know you’re not getting out of it until he feels like letting you go, so you lean back into him.

your eyes close as you place your hand over his hands. you keep your voice low as you turn your head to try and get a glance at him, “are you okay?”

the silence itself is enough of an answer for you that you just run your thumb along the ridges of his knuckles. kuroo is one of the best communicators you’d ever dated, and it was always a bad sign if he was being too silent about what was going on inside of his head. you’d learned that unlike many of your friends, kuroo preferred the silence of your presence rather than small talk if he wasn’t feeling his best.

you turn your head backwards at an odd angle to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw as he holds you gently, the only light being the moon over your heads and the warm yellow glow coming from the streetlight a few feet away from your front steps. he’s still quiet when you end up turning in his arms, nose tucked into the warm spot where his pulse rests, steady and loud as you stand on your front step for a few seconds. it reminds you that he’s real and is a tangible reminder of the man you love.

kuroo’s car is parked on the side of the road a little ways away, lights off and engine running as he starts running his hands through your hair. it’s light, right by the outside of your ear and he kisses the crown of your head with soothing touches.

“wanna go on a drive?” his words are barely above a whisper and you can only nod against him, not wanting to move too much before you have. his hands leave your hair as he steps back to look at you.

most of his face is just shadows, the light illuminating the outer edges of his hair but you can still manage to distinguish the handsome lines of his face. despite covering an eye, he’s always had the type of face that you always want to look at and even almost two years into your relationship, that fact still hasn’t changed. when he offers you the smallest of smiles, you can see the exhaustion lining his expression, laced between the adoration he has for you in his eyes.

his hands find their way to your cheeks, cupping carefully as he rubs a finger along the curve of your cheekbone. he leans down to rub your noses together for a second, eyes slipping close and he looks at ease for a brief moment before sealing your lips together.

your hands hang off of his forearms as you press close together, warmth finding you in each other’s embrace. kuroo’s kiss is slow, unhurried, and it steals the sleepiness from you as he turns his head to the side slightly. he tastes like laughter on a summer day, endless nights filled with your hands shoved outside of the sunroof of your too-old-to-be-on-the-road car, and the citrusy tang of clementines and oranges you’d stole from your neighbor.

in the next few minutes the two of you share a few more kisses, each as quick and as dizzying as the one before. as he pulls away, you’re relieved to see some of the stress shed from his expression, eyes bright and awake as he looks back at you. his hand winds with yours as you start the walk to his car, lazily making your way there.

he pulls the door of his car open for you, waiting for you to get in before walking around the front to his own side. when he gets into the car, he double checks to make sure you’re buckled in before he puts his car into drive, pulling out onto your street as he fishes his phone out of his pocket for you.

“any preferences for tonight’s playlist?” unlocking his phone, you’re somewhere on his spotify—scrolling through the amalgamation of absolutely atrocious study playlist names he’d crafted over the years—when he finally settles on something a bit more relaxing than his most recently played playlist.

together, the two of you enjoy the passing scenery as you start to slip into tokyo’s nightscape. the lights are bright and you can’t help but be mesmerized by them as kuroo drives, no end destination in mind, just wanting to enjoy each other’s presence for the moment.

kuroo has always been spontaneous like this for as long as you have been dating. in fact, he had asked you out on a whim, coming off the high of winning a volleyball game in high school. you were in the crowd because he had asked you to come watch him. you wouldn’t get the privilege of wearing his jersey until you became official, but you still decided to represent your school in a borrowed sweater you had stolen from him.

he was sweaty, but his smile was so radiant when he looked up at you leaning over the railing protecting you from falling. he waved with both hands, and you had waved back with matched enthusiasm.

kuroo had ended up yelling up to you, asking you out for the very first time in front of everyone who had come to watch. while you hated the attention, you had nodded hurriedly before making your way down to the court to get enveloped in a big, sweaty kuroo hug.

you distinctly remember kenma thanking you later for saving him from having to hug kuroo that night.

“love,” your hand finds his where it rests near the shifter, “what brought this on?”

your head is leaning against the headrest as he sighs softly, turning his hand over to twine your fingers together in a warm grasp, “i just, i couldn’t stop thinking.”

you make a noise of acknowledgement, knowing that he would know that you were listening, but just letting him take his time to tell you what was going on. while very spontaneous, kuroo wasn’t one for staying up too late, citing that a good night’s sleep was one of the first and best steps you could take for a better education. his dedication was one of the things you admire about him, even if it meant you were missing your boyfriend for a good hour at night

“i’m just worried,” his admission is barely audible over the music playing and the soothing rumble of his car’s engine as you change lanes on the highway, “about everything that’s changing.”

“i know that things have to change,” while he talks, you just watch, the lines of stress crossing over his face almost disappearing in the darkness, “but i don’t want to leave school. i’ve made so many friends and i met you, and i just can’t help but feel scared for what’s going to happen when we don’t have it anymore.”

you tighten your grip where your hands rest as you smile at him, despite the fact he’s focusing on the road, “‘suro, you know how you made a lot of good friends in school?”

he nods ever so slightly, voice cracking just slightly as he answers, “yeah.”

“just think about all the friends you’re going to make when you go into the real world,” you’re worrying your thumb over the back of his hand, “you’re very charismatic, and you’re good with other people, smart, too. you’re not lacking in great qualities, and people will recognize that.”

“not to mention,” you’ve adjusted yourself in your seat, tucking a leg underneath yourself so that you can face him more directly, “kenma, yaku, nobuyuki, and myself will always answer when you call or text. you’ll be away from home, but we’ll all be available for you, ‘suro.”

“we’re leaving school,” you start, eyes tracing the skyline of the city as you feel a small smile spread across your lips, “but life won’t end, and our friends won’t stop being our friends, and i’ll never stop being yours.”

you’re pulling up to a stoplight when he turns to look at you, side of his face bright red from the light as he gives you an easy going smile. you press the palm of your free hand to his cheek, and his eyes close, savoring the moment. he pulls your joined hands together to kiss your knuckles, featherlight before pulling away to lean across his center console.

“i love you,” his words are a mumble against your lips as you enjoy the quiet moment.

it’s almost three am, now, so when the light turns green, the pair of you are unconcerned as kuroo doesn’t press his foot against the gas, instead just content to be with each other. the changing colors of the stoplight is a backdrop to the press of his lips, a hand curling into his hair as he pulls you closer to him over the center console.it digs into your side a bit, and the seatbelt presses into your chest at an uncomfortable angle, but it’s all very you and kuroo so you don’t mind it.

kuroo’s worries won’t disappear overnight, and you know that you can only begin to soothe the deep seeded insecurities he holds. you’ll be content as long as he knows you’ll always be there to drive with him and watch the sunrise together, your fingers laced with his.

#hanimehub #hqcorenet #kuroo tetsuro x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo x you #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo fluff #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #kuroo tetsuro fluff #grind for the wealth

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mosswillow · 4 years ago

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Iced Coffee 2 - Dark!Stephen Strange x reader

Series Warnings:

NEW WARNING! Somnophilia

18+ adult content, Dark, Rape/noncon, obsessive behavior, stalking, doctor/medical themes, needles (chapter one, not sex related), violence, abuse, kidnapping, forced marriage, smut, escape attempt, Somnophilia

Potential warnings, a non-exhaustive list: Oral, praise kink, mild degradation (Will not include whore or slut)

You can join the tag list here.

Thank you to the unnamed requester and @couldntbedamned for this request. 🖤

By Clicking keep reading you confirm that you are over 18 and understand that this content is mature and potentially triggering.

Light from the window slowly crept up towards you as the sun rose. When it finally reached your eyes you turned and groaned, your body still throbbing all over. You managed to make it to your desk and grab your phone. Shit, Coworkers were going to start arriving soon and they couldn’t see you like this, couldn’t know what you had done. You let out a sob as you pushed your body to it’s limit, walking out of the lab and to the elevator. It took everything in you not to trip, ramming your shoulder into the door as you walked through the entrance of the hospital. People were looking at you with concern but you ignored them and kept walking.

You weaved between vehicles, using them to balance yourself as you slowly made strides to your car. Ten more feet and you would be there, you could do it.

“Hey, are you ok,” Stephen stepped in front of you, blocking your way.

“I’m fine, just trying to get home,” you replied. You took a shaky step and stumbled, slamming your side against a minivan. Stephen grabbed your arm and helped you up, his hand remaining even after you were upright, holding you in a tight grasp.

“Woah, I’ll give you a ride.”

“No,” you whimpered as you tried in vain to pull yourself out of his grasp. You weren’t sure he could even tell you were trying to pull away, you were so weak.

“You’re in no position to drive yourself anywhere,” he wrapped his arm around your middle and held you up. You looked at him and inhaled, his concern and determination was evident throughout his entire body. His face was scrunched into almost a scowl and his muscles were tense. He held his breath, obviously ready to argue. He wasn’t going to give up.

“I’ll call a car,” you said, raising your phone up. Your fingers were so shaky that the phone slipped immediately from your hand and to the concrete, making a loud sound that made you both flinch. He leaned over and picked your phone up, holding it away from you.

“It’s just a ride home, please” He urged.

You took a deep breath and slowly nodded. It pained you to let him help but there weren’t many other options. You weren’t going to make it home yourself, you weren't even sure you could keep yourself up without his help.

“Fine, just a ride home,” you agreed.

His body relaxed slightly as he helped you to his car. He opened the door for you and buckled you in. As soon as the door closed you leaned against it and closed your eyes trying not to cry. You were almost home, you just needed to make it a little longer. You were already feeling better than the evening prior and were sure if you just slept for a while longer the side effects would wear off.

Stephen stole quick looks at her as she slept in his passenger seat. His cock twitched and he shifted, uncomfortable with how turned on he was. He wanted her so badly, it’s the only thing he could think about. Her under him, face scrunched up in focus as he fucked her. Her body moving with him, reacting to him.

He wanted to show her how he had changed, wanted to prove something to her and if he was honest with himself he wanted to win. He wanted to be better than her, shift the power she had taken back to himself. He had never been turned away like that and it made him feel hurt and angry. He deserved her love, deserved everyone's love.

He decided then that she was his responsibility. No matter what happened in her life, whether she decided to be with him or someone else, he would take care of her. He owed it to her after what he did all those years ago.

He set his jaw and focused on the road, trying not to think about his intense desire to pull over and fuck her. She was so weak and helpless, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of that addictive feeling, the feeling of power and control, of being the best.

Stephen didn’t want her because she was weak and helpless though, in fact her physical weakness was the only thing he didn’t like about her. He had always been attracted to power and his attraction to her was no different. He wanted an equal, someone just as brilliant and strong as he was.

It was about the vulnerability for him. She was so strong - so independent and focused. For her to give into him, to argue with her and win, was like nothing he had ever felt. Her helpless body sitting next to him was only attractive because it meant that he won.

She let out a small whimper and he put his hand on her knee, rubbing small circles.

“It’s ok love, I’ll take care of you,” He whispered, knowing she was too out of it to understand his words.

He didn’t know how to get to her house but even if he did there was no way he would let her out of his sight like this. His girl was so sick, she needed him. If he wasn’t so respectful, so thoughtful of what she wanted he would take her to the emergency room. He knew though that she would be angry, that taking her would push her away from him, possibly forever. He couldn’t lose her, refused to jeopardize the seed of a relationship he was planting.

He parked at his home and carried her to his guest bed, covering her with blankets and setting water next to her bed. His cock throbbed and he brought his hand down and unbuttoned his pants, stroking himself as he watched her sleep. God, she was beautiful, perfect. He imagined pushing her over his desk at work and having his way with her. She stirred and he reluctantly tucked his cock away and left her to sleep, retreating to his shower where he wouldn’t risk waking her with his groans.

When you finally awoke the cold you had felt before was gone, replaced with a different sensation. Everything you touched felt different, it was weird and curious, like another sense you hadn't possessed before. It took several moments to remember what had happened, how Stephen had found you in the parking lot and gave you a ride. He must have taken you to his house instead of yours you concluded.

You stood and walked to the bathroom, feeling much better, almost back to normal. A set of clean clothes were laid out for you along with a toiletry kit. You turned the shower on and looked at your face. You looked just like you did before you had injected yourself with the medicine, not that you expected a change of appearance. The important part is what it did to you on a cellular level. You looked at the injection site, which had blue vein-like lines extending in a circle around it. You touched it gently and felt a sharp sting. A list of multiple tests started forming in your head. You needed to do them before your lab was shut down, see what it had done to your body. The pain you had gone though would be worth it if it worked. Even if it didn’t work at least you would know.

After your shower you grabbed your phone and called a car to take you back to the hospital. The door creaked as you opened it and you held your breath, tip toeing through Stephens home.

It was exactly what you expected, pristine, immaculate, almost sterile in it’s cleanliness. Your soft footsteps felt loud against the tile floors that covered the entire house and you slowed your walking even more. You could hear him cooking in the kitchen and held your breath when you finally reached the front door.

“Where do you think you’re going,” shouted a sharp voice.

You stopped and turned to see Stephen standing in the breakfast room with a spatula. He held it like a scepter, moving it around as he spoke.

“There is no way in hell I’m letting you out of here before looking you over.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted.

He raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms.

“I’m a grown woman and doctor,” you tried again.

“So you know that doctors are the worst at taking care of their health then, good, come sit over here,” He pulled a chair out from the kitchen table.

You looked at the GPS on your phone, which showed the little car getting closer to the pick up location.

“Cancel it, I’ll drive you after we’re done,” He called from the kitchen.

You hesitated at the door before canceling the ride. You didn’t want to be rude, he had taken you home and let you sleep in his guest bed after all. The least you could do was eat a small breakfast, let him check your temperature and look in your ears.

You sat at the table and he brought you a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast before leaving and coming back with a small black tote. You took a few bites while he dove into his bag and pulled out several instruments.

“Your temperature is very low,” He mused, writing it down in a little notebook.

“I run low,” you lied.

“I’d like to run some tests,” he muttered, jotting down a list in his notebook.

“No,” you said quickly “ I’ll have them done but not by you,” you added when his eyes narrowed.

He sat back in his chair and clenched his jaw.

“Is there information you’re not telling me?”

You shook your head and unconsciously grabbed your arm. He pulled your jacket down suddenly and examined you.

“What is this?” He asked.

You panicked, your heart rate starting to rise. “A bug bite,” you stammered.

He gave a short nod, his expression the embodiment of distrust, and grabbed your face. He looked at your eyes, ears, and throat, his hand remaining on your cheek after he finished, thumb rubbing back and forth so subtly that you barely noticed.

“You look ok but I’m worried about your arm, promise me you’ll get it looked at immediately,” his voice deepened into a low, commanding tone.

“I promise,” you whispered.

Instead of letting go of your face he leaned closer to you.

“I’m glad you’re ok,” He said, breath hot against your cheek.

He gave you a soft kiss where his breath was seconds earlier and pulled away.

“Eat up,” he motioned to your plate.

You picked up a piece of toast and took a small bite.

“Thank you... for your help,” you mumbled awkwardly.

Stephen looked at you and gave a half smile.

“It’s the least I could do.”

-o-

Series Master list 🖤 Previous Chapter 🖤 Next Chapter

#dark!stephen strange #dark!stephen strange x reader #dark!doctor strange #dark!mcu #Dark fics #Dark doctor strange #dark stephen strange

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axwalker · 3 years ago

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CREEP: I’m a creep

HIGH SCHOOL AU

Pairing: Drake Walker and Lexie O’Brien -- Book TRR

A/N 1 This came up to me after I got an ask from @nestledonthaveone

I was listening to my iPod on my way home from work yesterday & Radiohead's Creep came on. One of my favorite songs, and I think the lyrics are great for an angsty Drake fic. It reminds me of him. Could you please write an angsty fic inspired by the song? I love how you write angst!!

I used to hear this song when I was a teenager, so when I read this ask, I immediately wanted to write something angsty but situated in high school.

This is part one of two.

I hope you enjoy it @nestledonthaveone 💕

A/N 2: Because they’re younger than usual, I decided to change my FC --just for this fic. I’m still picturing Michiel and Valerie when they’ll be older though.

A/N3: I’m participating in @wackydrabbles Prompt #105 It's definitely ... interesting.”

Thank you ladies!

WARNINGS: Parental abuse. Eventually some lemons. ALL MY FICS ARE 18+

Tags in the comments.

LEXIE

I��ve always loved sunsets. The entire sky is painted orange and pink, streaking with white light and many other colors; I can’t take my eyes away from it. Sunsets remind us that no matter what is happening in our lives, the sun will be out again tomorrow. It’s raw, beautiful, and comforts me—the thought of the sun watching over me. I sit on my porch, my knees against my chest. I’m wearing a white tank top and jean shorts to fight the intense heat that invades Cordonia in early September. I fix my eyes on the sky, wishing a miracle. Something that takes me away from my father and his new wife. Away from the pain of losing mom.

“What are you doing?” The voice is so resonant, deep, and rasping. Slowly, I sit up and look around, pushing my long, brown hair out of my eyes. I raise my head, and I see him. Drake Walker.

My breath catches, and I cross my arms over my breasts, knowing the thin material of my shirt isn’t keeping me remotely modest. What is he doing here? At this time, no less. I go to school with Drake. We’re both sophomores at Valtoria High School. He’s six foot two, with strong shoulders, and has a knowledge of life in his eyes that boys our age simply don’t possess. We have five classes together, and he sits through them like a statue, his chocolate eyes unreadable. Tall, dark, and angry. Handsome in a hard way that makes the other girls nervous when he walks down the hallways. Not me, though. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve stared at him from behind my locker door, breath trapped in my lungs, wondering what he’s thinking of behind his brooding eyes.

“I asked, what are you doing? This isn’t a safe place to be alone at night. You should get inside.”

“Inside is no safer.” Why would I say that? My first time talking with this boy, and I tell him my deepest secret? His eyes narrow at me.“I mean, there’s not a lot of crime in this part of Portavira.” That loosens the tension in his broad shoulders. “I’m looking at the sunset. I love it. It’s so beautiful and wild.” I bit my bottom lip noticing his eyes dip to catch the action.

“It’s definitely ... interesting,” he says, noncommittally. “There are things I like more.”

“Like what?” I ask.

He shrugs but looks back down at me, wrestling with something. He lifts a hand, brushing the very tip of his fingers down my cheekbone. “You,” he rasps.

Drake’s deep brown eyes look at me with something I’m only on the cusp of understanding. Is it…lust? His fingers move down my jaw, traveling slowly over the hollow of my throat to tease one of my tank top’s straps. “I like you. I can’t seem to stop…wanting. Wanting you to look at me. Wanting you…period. It’s why I sit behind you in all your classes, O’Brien. You don’t know that?” My knees start to tremble. I’ve always wondered how we end up in the same classes every single semester. He’s arranged for it to happen? He…likes me? That much? Say something, dork. Don’t act like it’s not mutual.

As if I haven’t lain my bed after school, when no one is at home and touched myself while thinking of Drake Walker. I must be doing a terrible job of keeping that secret to myself because Drake’s breath begins to grow shallow. “O’Brien.” He drops his forehead to mine, the pads of his thumb rubbing the soft skin of my neck. “Have you ever been kissed?”

I can’t talk, so I shake my head.

“Please,” he groans. “Let me.”

My head is spinning. “Let you what?”

“Kiss you. Finally.” His hands move to cradle my head, making me feel delicate, like something special. His minty breath is close to my ear, setting off an ache low in my belly. “I need to kiss you, O’Brien. I need it.” He leans down and kisses the corner of my lips in the most torturous, exquisite way. My heart is beating wildly in my chest when he puts his soft lips on mine for the first time. My first kiss is an amazing one. He bends his head, and his mouth finds mine with soft pressure. I thought he would be rough or impatient may be clumsy, but I didn’t expect the gentle way his lips caress mine. The way he coaxes my own lips apart before I’m even aware of it. My knees buckle, but he holds me firmly against him. He kisses me as if this wasn’t our first time but our last. It’s the most erotic moment of my life, but all too son Drake leaves my lips. I only feel urgency. Want so deep that it burns inside of me. It has existed between us all along, hasn’t it? Not one-sided. A yearning pull between two people, orbiting each other in the earthly, incongruous setting of school.

Drake opens his mouth to say something, but my name is shouted in the distance. From inside the house. With glittering eyes, Drake drops his hands to his side, though it obviously pains him to do so. He gives me a chaste kiss on my cheek. One second later, the back door of my house opens, revealing my father, his imposing frame backlit by the interior.

“Alexis!” I start to tremble; I try to speak, but I can’t. ““What are you doing out here this late?” There’s a tight smile in his voice. “Did you come out here to retrieve the handyman?” I do a double-take, noticing the strain forming around the corners of Drake’s mouth.

“Handyman?”

“Yes.” My father chuckles, coming forward to clap a hand down on Drake’s tense shoulder. “He’s here to repair a leak in the attic. Liam called you by the way.” Drake can’t look at me now, his gaze cast over my shoulder. Empty. A minute ago, we were equals. But my father’s words have called into focus one very important thing. I’m rich, and he’s very poor. It just didn’t matter. To me, it still doesn’t. But the economic divide between us is deepening by the second.

“Why don’t you get to it?” My father suggests to Drake, his tone hard. “Alexis has to study. She is going places.”

I down my gaze to the ground, humiliation burning up my throat. My father is an expert at belittling people, and he’s just done it to Drake. I want to say something to make it better, to defend Drake, but I know I’ll only be making it worse. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to offer Drake an apology. At school. I’ll talk to him then.

“Yes, sir,” Drake responds stiffly, turning on his boots and stalking toward the house. Behind his back, my father reaches over and digs his thumb into my bicep until I double over, releasing a silent scream. He lets go a moment before Drake glances back over his shoulder, eyes hooded, and my expression is serene. Because I know better than to let anyone see the pain. My father has never been physically abusive, but his temper is getting worse. He hated mom and he’s taking it out on me. As soon as we’re in the house, I run up the stairs to my room and lock the door, leaning back against it. Listening to Drake’s boots walk back and forth in the attic. More than anything, I want to go up there. Feel his hands on me again. Cherishing hands, instead of hateful ones. I ache for that. For him. But an hour later, Drake leaves, and that’s when I face the consequences. My father knocks on my door. When I open it, the look on his eyes let me know it’s going to be worse than usual.

“If I ever see you talking to that boy again, so help me God, I’ll kick you out of this house.” His face is contorted with rage. “Then, I’ll ruin him, too. I’ll make his life even harder in this town. You know I can do it. I can have him cast off that filthy land and no one will ever hire him again. Is that what you want?”

“No,” I whisper.

“No,” he sneers, mocking me. “Never look at him again. Do you hear me? My daughter does not associate with penniless dirt. The only boy you’re allow to date is Liam Rys. No one else.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“See that you keep that promise. Or you’ll both pay the price.” And I pay a good deal of it that night when dad slaps me for the first time. The next day at school, I don’t look at Drake in the hallway. I don’t pause in the doorway of our classes, absorbing the sight of him waiting at the desk behind me. I simply keep my head down and try not to show the bruise on my cheek. On my body and my heart. I could never have predicted he would hate me for it.

Drake

Two years later

I walk past O’Brien in the hallway and slam my fist against the locker to her left, making her jump. Shame, frustration, and resentment have been like a poison inside me, rotting my bones every second of the last two years, ever since that night in her garden when she tricked me into thinking she felt the same. Maybe she did. Until her father reminded her that I’m nothing but a poor handyman. Yeah, she remembered pretty quickly that she’s better than me. Good enough to date a rich quarterback like Rys but definitely not a low life like me. Rich, stuck-up brat. What’s worse is that she fucking ruined me with those lips. She brought me to my knees. Made me reveal myself in ways I’ve never done with anyone. And now? Now she’s left me lonely and fuck-starved for two years. Obsessed with her, unable to let her go and hating her guts for it. Because she won’t even look at me anymore. I’m nothing but the dirt beneath her spotless sneakers. Two years ago, I decided that if she was going to make my life hell by ignoring me after what we shared, then I could return the favor. So I do. By tormenting her. That’s the only term for it. I torture her, and I hate that—I fucking hate it—but so be it. My jaw is close to shattering as I watch O’Brien calmly collect the books from her locker and hurry toward our next class. On top of being a bully, I’m also a masochist because I still trick the school into having the same five classes every year. My aunt Leona works in the front office, and she feels bad for me because of my dad dying and my mom abandoning me when I was still in middle school, leaving me in the trailer alone. Not bad enough to invite me to live with her family, but bad enough that she slips me O’Brien’s schedule every semester so I can match it to mine. Before I follow her, I stop at her locker, sliding something in it, and continue on my way. When I walk into class behind her a moment later, I slow to a stop in the doorway at the sight of Rys kneeling to speak with O’Brien where she sits at her desk—cajoling a smile out of her. She refused to date him two years ago, but fucking Liam didn’t get the memo. No one has as much money as his father in this town. If Rys is asking her out again, she’d probably say yes. If I let it get that far, which I won’t. I never do. She’s mine. Only mine.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #drake x lexie #tw abuse #tw parental trauma

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biaswreckme · 4 years ago

Text

my euphoria | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook/Reader (established relationship)

Member: Jungkook, the other boys are just mentioned briefly in the beginning.

Length: 4170 words

Genre: smut

Triggers/Warnings: smut, soft bdsm, sub!jk, dom!reader, a bit of noona kink, praise kink, oral sex (f and m giving and receiving), edging, crying, safe, sane, and consensual sex, aftercare

Summary: Jungkook texts you a picture of him all ready for performance on the Golden Disc Awards. And there’s just something about that belt...

The moment Jungkook sends you a mirror selfie you know you are doomed. You know – and he probably knows too and did it on purpose – that he is doomed. Praise his stylist for the outfit chosen for this show. Whoever that was, they deserve a raise, a promotion, anything to compensate for their choice. You look at the picture and the look he is giving you, his blond hair falling into his eyes and… Is that a... harness? You start having some ideas, but you take a deep breath and text him back, saying keep the belt for later. You can imagine his reaction upon receiving the text, his doe eyes opening in slight surprise and anticipation as he guesses what is on your mind for later. You know how he can get, how his imagination can run sometimes, so you send him a follow-up text, focus on the performance, jk. saranghae. You send all of the boys a text, wishing good luck and especially a good return to Yoongi, you know how much he’s been waiting for this and it warms your heart to see them reunited again.

But there will be time for feelings and softness for the boys later. Now, you need to get ready for what is to come with Jungkook, you need to prepare and ensure nothing is going to go wrong. The first thing you do is get everything set up in the bedroom and have all necessities in handy; you put a tray with a small bucket filled with ice and a couple of water bottles and some of Jungkook’s favorite snacks on the dresser; you get the comfort blanket ready by the bed, the one that you spent weeks crocheting but was your personal project during the beginning of quarantine; you leave the remote control on the bedside table, ready to press and choose a comedy series you’ve both watched a thousand times to leave it on as you cuddle afterward. You then set up the bathroom, getting some unscented tea candles ready to be lit up for some soft lightning; you leave his towel and bathrobe on the hanger by the shower door, ready to use.

Next, you go to your closet, trying to decide what you’re going to wear tonight. You don’t want anything too elaborate that will take away the attention from the real piece that will be on the spotlight, so you choose a simple black lace lingerie set and the silk robe Jungkook gave you a while ago, also in black, that you like to use on certain occasions. It would be a while before they were finished, so you try to get some work done but you’re on the edge of your seat, your mind running wild with the possible scenarios and you end up writing down some ideas for another day to discuss later with him, see what he will be willing to experiment so you can plan ahead and buy whatever is necessary. There is one particular idea that you still haven’t been able to discuss with him, and even though you sense he will want to try out and will probably enjoy if you take your time, you don’t want to spring it into him tonight, no matter how perfect that harness would be for it.

And then he finally texts you, telling you they’re finished and he will be coming home soon, you jump into the shower and get ready. You forego the perfume, not wanting to mess with his sensitivity to scents tonight, and as you put on the chosen garments your mind starts getting into the mood. You know he will shower before coming home – only to become sweaty again later on – so you just send him a text informing him you’ll be waiting in the bedroom, and to text you when he’s arriving so you can give him further instructions. He answers with a yes, noona, nothing out of the ordinary, but it’s almost as if you can feel his breath falter for a brief second while writing that text. And it’s not long before you receive the message, telling you he’s just outside your door. You text him, get in, lock the door. take off your shirt, shoes, and socks, and put on that belt. i’m waiting, jk. You can hear the beeping of the password, the shuffling of feet and a bag being put on the floor and opened, the noise of buckles, the sound of shoes being put away, almost thrown in a rush. He doesn’t ask for you as he usually does when he gets home, he knows you’ve heard him and are waiting where you said you would be.

The door to the bedroom is open, and you have a perfect view of it sitting on the armchair by the window. Your legs are crossed, hands on the armrests, and then you see him. He walks slowly towards the door and enters the room. He widens his eyes upon seeing you, and you could say you have the same reaction upon seeing him, as he has followed your instructions perfectly. The curtains are closed, the lights dimmed just a bit to take off the harshness because tonight you want to keep looking at him. His torso is bare, and you let your eyes slowly roam his body, wanting to appreciate the view the most. You like to look. And he likes when you look at him like that, with attention, care, lust. You start by looking into his eyes, sustaining his stare for a moment, and you lick your lips as you divert your gaze, noticing how his hair is not completely dry yet as he probably didn’t have the patience to fully blow dry it before leaving. His blond hair. You still remember when he showed up like that and you still have the same reaction. He looks good. He is still wearing his earrings and his tattooed fingers put his hair behind his ear, and you know he does this when he’s starting to feel shy under your gaze. Good. You want him at your mercy.

You start to look down, his chest, his pecs becoming more muscular each passing day, his strong arms, the art inked on his light skin. You can see him breathing shakily, abs contracting, and his fucking tiny waist seeming even smaller with that harness on. He buckled it just like the picture he sent you earlier, leaving two straps unbuckled and loose falling to the middle of his legs. He is wearing his favored black pants and you can see the front of it is slightly tented, and by the way in which his erection is already wanting your attention, you can tell he is not wearing any underwear. Oh, how naughty of him. You raise your eyebrows at him, a signal for him to speak.

“Hi, noona,” he says, eyes looking down.

“Look at me, Jungkook,” you tell him.

“Yes, noona,” he breathes out and does so.

“Remember your words. Color?” You always begin by reminding him that he is safe, that he can end this at any moment if he needs or wants to.

“Green, noona,” he answers eagerly.

“I can see you followed my instructions. Good boy.”

The moment you say the two words you can see his demeanor shift a little. His eyes open wide, almost innocently, at the praise, and he lets out a breath. There he is.

“Have you been good, Jungkook?” You ask and he nods in affirmation but briefly pauses when you continue. “Or have you been naughty, huh?”

He quickly shakes his head, “I’ve been good, noona…”

“Oh really? So what are you wearing under your pants?”

His eyes open even wider and his mouth opens and closes, no noise coming out.

“Answer me, Jungkook.” You get up from the armchair, going towards him and stopping millimeters away from his body, your hands caressing his arms, down and down, until you reach the top of his pants.

“N-noona, I… I t-t-t-thought…” he stutters a little, and you know you’ve got him.

“I guess you’re just going to have to be extra good for noona tonight, don’t you agree?” He nods eagerly in response and you pull him in for a kiss. “Tell me, Jungkook. How are you going to be good for me?”

“Let me l-l-love, you, noona, please,” he says kissing you again, his arms around your body pressing you against his body. You take his hands and put them in front of your silk robe, and he opens it without any further prompting, taking a step back to look at you.

“Take off your pants,” you tell him, and he does so while looking into your eyes, gently pulling down his black pants, his cock springing free and slapping softly against his stomach. He takes another step back, knowing full well that you like to take a moment to look at him every single time he undresses for the first time. Some days you still can’t believe how lucky you are that he, Jungkook, the golden maknae, wants you in every way possible, that he loves you. And you can see how much he wants you in the way his cock seems almost angry with how much he is hard, the tip already leaking, his breath getting faster with the way you’re just staring at him and not doing anything, and you’re not too far behind, so you tell him “Love me, Jungkook, be a good boy for me and show me how much you want me.”

He doesn’t hesitate and goes for another kiss, harder, deeper, more intense this time, his hands freely roaming your body, squeezing your ass and then your lace-covered boobs. His tongue is insistent against yours, the kiss a little messy with how eager he is to undress you, his hands fumbling with the clasp of your bra before he steadies himself and manages to unclasp it. His kisses start moving down, licking and nibbling on your ear while his arms hug you lower, pressing your body slightly backward so you bend your back and he has better access to your chest while standing up. His latches on your right nipple, giving it a soft suck before licking it, only to suck it again harder, pressing it against his teeth, while his left hand starts caressing your other breast, his fingers pulling and rolling your nipple; he knows you need him to be a little more forceful as you’re not that sensitive in this area, but you know how much he loves your nipples and giving them attention, so he just learned exactly the amount of pressure and biting he needs to do to get you even wetter for him. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it on a particularly harder bite, moaning out loud, letting him know how good he is being. You can feel the wetness on your panties, so you press your thighs together, giving him the hint of what he needs to do next. He pushes you towards the armchair, making you sit down, and he kneels down, looking up at you from between your legs, his hands going to the sides of your panties, silently asking for permission to take them off. Before you allow him to take them off, you grab him by the hair and press his face against them, and he inhales and presses an open mouth against the outside of the lace.

“You’re so wet, noona…” he whispers against the lace, mouthing at it, tugging lightly and carefully with his teeth.

“This is what happens when you are a good boy, Jungkookie, see?” you say while spreading your legs. “Now keep being a good boy and make me come on your tongue.”

He nods, his brown doe eyes open and with a glisten, in that way that lets you know he’s ready to serve you, to worship you, to love you. He takes a deep breath and kisses the line of your underwear while his hands hook under the straps, pulling it down slowly, his eyes staring into yours until it is off your body and somewhere in the bedroom that neither of you is that bothered to know now. Still looking at you, he caresses your legs from calves to thighs then back down to your knees, pushing them up to lay on the armrests, spreading you open for him. He kisses your inner thighs, one side to the other, not really teasing, more as if he needs to kiss and pay attention to every inch of your body. His mouth slowly inches closer to where you need him the most, and his tattooed fingers come to you in a v to spread you open, exposing your clit. He takes a moment to look at how wet you are, and without saying anything, looks again into your eyes and lowers his mouth to taste you. And at the first contact of his tongue with your dripping core, he closes his eyes, a high-pitched moan leaving his mouth as he opens it to encompass your pussy, his tongue licking a strip upwards and he pauses at your clit, circling it once with his tongue and then sucking it into his mouth, the pressure so soft at first you can barely feel it. He knows better than to use his fingers without your permission, so the hand that isn’t spreading you open goes for your chest, fingers gently caressing your nipples, matching the pressure he’s using on your clit for now.

Slowly his suction increases, motivated by your moans, and as he hollows his cheeks, he presses the tip of his tongue softly on your exposed clit, enhancing your pleasure. He doesn’t rush to get you to your climax, preferring to worship your body, loving your moans, loving the way you’re feeling because of him. He releases the pressure so he can give some attention to every part of your pussy, sucking lightly on your lips, licking you again from bottom to top, his tongue passing over you slowly as his mouth opens wide, and it feels like he’s making love to your core with his mouth; it feels like he’s always hungry for more of you. When you guide his head up to your clit again you notice his hips are making short staccato movements on the air, so handsome with that contrasting harness on his skin and small waist, and you know he’s at the point of no return now and will beg beautifully for you, those wide eyes giving him an air of innocence even though what he is doing to you now is far from innocent. The image of him between your legs, the constant presence of his tongue on your clit now, his tattooed fingers pulling your skin a little up so he can direct his efforts to that one spot a little bit on the underside of it have you approaching your orgasm quicker now, and you let him know so he can do exactly what he is doing now, taking you over that bridge. You’re so close now you can already feel the tingling starting in your abdomen, at the tips of your fingers, and you feel it overtaking your body, your back arching on the chair as you close your fingers on his hair not letting him get away, having him lick you through your orgasm, increasing this indescribable feeling that only he can give you like this. You pull his head away when you start getting too sensitive, and even though you love the overstimulation and how it can get you quickly to another orgasm, you don’t want that tonight. You look at him, open lips glistening wet with you, his hooded eyes semi-open, hands clenching on his thighs.

“Jungkook?” You check in with him.

He takes a brief moment to answer, nodding and saying green, and you lower your body to kiss him, tasting yourself on his mouth, whispering in his ear good boy, made me cum so hard, loving how he gets flustered, ears and top of his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink. You guide him to the bed, making him sit up against the headboard, his legs splayed open as you sit beside him, one of your legs going over his right one, not letting him close it. You adjust the loose straps of the black harness so they are framing his thighs and cock perfectly, creating a display out of him.

“Show me, Jungkook, show how much you want noona to suck you,” you whisper against his ear again, sitting on his right side, your hand softly playing with his nipples, lightly pinching one and then the other. You keep your mouth close to his ear as you watch as his inked fingers close around his leaking cock, softly licking his lobe, tugging just enough on the earring that he moans and clenches his fingers at the bottom of his erection, holding back the pleasure. “Move your hand, Jungkook. You can go as fast as you want, baby, you were so good, come on, you can use both hands,” you encourage him, watching as his hand starts going up and down, fist closed tight and fast movements. He closes his eyes and lets his head drop down to your side, your left hand caressing his hair while your right continues to tease his nipples. “Do you want to come for noona, baby?”

He nods and moans, his sounds coming a little higher pitched now as his breaths get faster, the other hand caressing his balls, his hips start to come off the mattress, fucking into his hand. As his moaning starts to become shorter breaths and sounds, he opens his mouth to tell you that he’s close, he’s so close,

“I’m… noona, I’m…”

“Stop,” you say as you grip his arm, getting it away from his erection. He whines a long moan, throwing his head back, and even with his eyes closed, you can see a little wetness starting to gather in his lashes, his thighs trembling, his left hand releasing his balls to clench his fist in the air. “Not yet, baby.”

“P-p-p-please, noona, please, p-p-please…” He whines and his lips come into a pout, looking into your eyes, the little wetness in his eyes making them shine prettily.

“One more, ok? Just one more and then you can come,” he pouts even more when you say it, but nods, swallowing and closing his eyes, getting ready for another edge. Another day you’ll make him beg non-stop for you, taking your time to take him so close to his orgasm and then stop, but tonight you don’t feel like teasing him. Well, you don’t feel like teasing him much. You let go of his arm, pushing it towards his cock. “Touch yourself, baby,” you start, but as he goes back to the same fast-paced rhythm, you continue, “a little slower this time.”

He obeys you, moving his fist up and down, tugging on his skin, circling his head with his other hand slowly, moaning in between pouts and little whimpers of please. You feel so tempted to torture him a little more, the sight of Jungkook, so powerful and exuding such strong energy on the stage, so pliant under your command, begging for you, whimpering, hips coming off the mattress, needing you. He makes those needy little noises, head turning to look at you, blond hair falling over his doe eyes, mouth whispering please please please noona so close.

“Be a good boy, stop,” you tell firmly, not taking his hand away this time, letting him control himself enough to do it, and he does so, closing his fists against his thighs and curving his body forward, his torso glistening with sweat and his muscles clenching at his effort. “So good for me, Jungkook, such a good boy,” you say caressing his hair, taking it away from his eyes, kissing away the few tears that escaped his eyes.

You tap his ear three times, your wordless signal, checking in. He nods his head when he feels it and weakly says green. You smile and kiss his lips, moving in between his legs, smiling at him. You barely let him take a breath before lowering your head and licking his erection from bottom to top, starting at his balls and stopping at his engorged and wet head.

“You can come anytime you want now, baby,” you tell him, looking up. “You’ve been so good, Kookie, let go now.”

You don’t wait for his response, diving back in, now engulfing him into your mouth, sucking him down until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose and force your head down more, trying to take all of him in. Your nose finally touches his skin, your lips around the bottom part of his cock, and your mouth feels so full, but you swallow around him, his loud moan exactly the reaction you were wanting. Trying to breathe slowly, you hum, letting him know how much you like doing this for him, how much you like feeling the weight of his cock on your tongue, his velvety skin contrasting with his hardness. He doesn’t need much, having come to the precipice of pleasure twice in such a short time; you bob your head up and down, pausing to lick around his head when you feel his thighs clenching under your hands, so you look up at him and take him back in your mouth, sucking hard when you move your head up and your hand fists what doesn’t fit. You hear a drawn-out noona, almost a high-pitched whine, at the same time his hands touch your hair, not pulling, just tangling his fingers in it, his thighs trembling, his abs clenching as the pleasure overtakes his body and you feel his release in your mouth, swallowing, continuing to suck to get him through it. His head is thrown back, damp hair stuck to his forehead, eyes closed, as a few more tears escape through his lashes. You suck him clean, kissing up his torso until you reach his lips, hugging him against you as you give him a soft kiss.

He lets himself be maneuvered until he is lying down with his head against your neck while you caress his hair and whisper praises into his ear, saying how good he’s been, how proud you are of him, how perfect he is, waiting for his body to stop trembling and the tears to stop. When he starts to calm down, you move to get up and he tightens his arms around you, and you tell him that you’re just going to the dresser, that you’re not going anywhere far. He lets his arms fall, letting you go, and you grab the tray you’d put there earlier. You put it on the bed, getting the water bottles, loosening the cap on one of them. You sit against the headboard, pulling him up with all of your strength just so he is sitting up enough.

“Drink, love,” you say, opening the bottle and pressing it against his lips.

You help him sip down the cold water with one hand while the other takes the other cold bottle to the back of his neck, helping him cool down. You start talking to him again in a low voice, saying how much you love him, how good he is to you, how you still can’t believe he loves you too. You keep repeating this almost like a mantra you don’t know for how long, and slowly he starts recovering his senses, opening his eyes and looking at you.

“Kook? You with me yet, love?”

He smiles, closing his eyes for a brief second before nodding, “Wow,” he starts, his voice cracking a bit. “So intense.” He chuckles. “All because of a belt?” His voice is still low, but you can see he is getting back to himself.

“All because of you, Jungkook,” you tell him, kissing him softly. “Saranghae.”

“Saranghae,” he says on your lips, then lets his forehead rest on your chest again, sighing and hugging you closer.

“Wanna eat something? Or are you ok to shower first?”

“Shower first. I think. I don’t know if my legs work, but too sweaty to stay in bed,” he says laughing softly.

“I’ll help you, come on,” you say, helping him up and out of the bed. “Your fluffy robe is waiting for you and then we can snack while we wait for delivery. Your choice tonight.”

And as you hug under the warm spray of water, letting it wash away the sweat and all worries, exchanging I love yous, you repeat the words again and again, against his skin, promising to love and take care of him.

#btscreatorscorner #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfic #my work

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lady-z-writes · 3 years ago

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A little preview...

So I normally don't post upcoming stuff for a fic I'm writing, but this scene with Heisenberg x fem!reader was just too much. Ended up sharing about it in a server I'm a part of and...here's a little preview of some smut coming up in my multi-chapter fic, What Lies Beneath

The following is NSFW...

Summary for below the cut: Reader and Heisenberg show up to a "family" meeting at the church. While they wait for the others, Heisy wants reader to blow him in one of the pews. Reader ends up fingering herself, mid-blowjob, and doesn't get to climax before the other Lords start showing up for the meeting. Lots of teasing ensues during the meeting because Heisy loves to play...

“We shouldn’t,” she urges, pressing against him in an attempt to get him to stop.

It’s dangerous she’s even this close to him, considering they could get ambushed by anyone.

Still, he insists on entering the church together and she’s forced to pull away from him for appearances sake. He’s smirking at her over his shoulder, finding this whole thing humorous. She shoots him a glare.

Moreau is the only one there already and he mumbles something to Heisenberg about Mother being late.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ll be fine.” Heisenberg glances at her, nods down the hall. It takes her a moment, but she realizes what he’s suggesting and she shakes her head. He rolls his eyes, takes matters into his own hands. “Why don’t you wait by the door for her?”

Moreau seems giddy about this idea and [Y/N] watches him shuffle to the main door. The minute Moreau is out of eyeshot, Heisenberg grips her by the arm and drags her where he wants. She struggles, but only for a minute.

“Are you nuts?”

“Maybe a little,” he chuckles. [Y/N] pulls her arm back. His face falls. “Fine. Have it your way.”

He pulls her deeper into the church now, seats himself down in a pew in the nave, and shoves [Y/N] to her knees.

Gaping at him, she shakes her head while he grips her hair.

“Heisenberg,” she hisses, trying to push herself up.

“You wanted it this way, kitten,” he shakes his head, using his other hand to unbuckle and unzip. “But that’s fine, waste more time.”

His grip in her hair is painful and if she understands anything about him, she knows there’s no way of getting out of this.

They’ll be here any minute.

Quickly, she pulls his pants open just enough for his cock to spring out. He groans at the knowledge that she’s actually obliging. Shifting his grip on her hair, he adjusts in the pew, feels the weight of her arms draping over his thighs, one hand groping at his hip, the other around his dick.

“Good girl…” he coos as she takes his cock in her mouth.

Her tongue swirls around his head before she deepthroats once. Such a tease. Always such a tease. A flat tongue traces over the underside of his dick, lapping up to the tip again. She tenses her tongue, uses the tip of it to play with his frenulum. The sensitivity causes Heisenberg to buck his hips toward her mouth, moan aloud.

She startles, surely nervous to have him being so loud but it only urges him on. He’s smirking, she notices, and though she’s nervous she can’t help but be completely aroused by this.

“I’ll sit here all meeting if I have to. You know that,” his voice is sultry, whispered just for her to hear.

She steps up her game, using her hand to jerk him off while her mouth continues to pleasure him as well. The precum she tastes means he’s liking what she’s doing.

“Guess I didn’t – mmm – spell out my rules well enough, huh?” he pants out. “I’ll let it slide this time, ungh…kitten.”

She’s focusing on his pleasure and speeding things up but she’s also very aware of her own throbbing arousal. Pressing her legs together tighter, she moans at the stimulation.

Heisenberg stares at her. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” he cackles to which she deepthroats him repeatedly to get him to shut up. It works, but instead he’s moaning her name.

She can feel his dick tensing, the muscles in his thighs flexing, making the pew creak. It’s at this point that she removes her hand from his hip, uses it to put pressure on her clit.

Heisenberg watches every second – loves the way her mouth feels on him, how her hands grip him at the perfect intensity, how into this she is. He’d normally force her to stop touching herself, but he’s so fucking intrigued he can’t look away. Her fingers have trailed up her skirt and the filthy woman is fingering herself while she mouthfucks him in a church.

Heisenberg can’t hold back much longer – not with the way her throat feels against his tip, not with how talented that tongue is, and surely not when he hears her slick wetness as her fingers slip inside her cunt.

With a string of moans, he spills in her mouth, using his grip on her hair to thrust as deep as possible; give her every last drop. [Y/N] is moaning around his cock and, though his eyes are closed, he can still hear her fingers gliding in and out of herself.

Swallowing him down, she keeps her mouth on him as he starts the comedown but he pulls his hips back from her because she’s overstimulating him. With nothing to block the moans, she buries her face in his thigh, hides her expression as she nears her climax.

“Ohhh, fuck, buttercup,” he gasps, stroking her hair gently, his voice laced with pleasure. “You gonna cum for me? Hm? You gonna cum on your fingers for a job well done getting your master off in a church?” he chuckles and she’s completely gone – passed the point of no return. “And I’ll let you. I’ll let you because, baby girl, you did so good.” A few more strokes to her g-spot and she’s there. “Oh…? Oh…shit, honey…” he’s laughing at her and for a second she stills, listening.

Over the sound of her heartbeat in her ears, she can hear someone talking. No. No, no, no, they’re here already?

A sob leaves her mouth as she looks up at him from his crotch. He’s pleased, so fucking pleased with the sight of her – hair a mess, swollen lips, pupils dilated, chest heaving.

The voice of Lady Dimitrescu is apparent now, echoing in the nave as she enters. Heisenberg glances over his shoulder as [Y/N] debates if she should try to finish – but that edge is waning due to the new company.

“Up. Now,” Heisenberg speaks through gritted teeth, quickly zipping, buttoning, and buckling up.

A shaky breath that’s on the verge of a sob, she huffs in the pew beside him. Her hands come up to wipe her mouth, smooth her hair, swipe the tears from her eyes. Heisenberg takes another glance back, notices he has a second, and pops her slick-covered finger in his mouth – tasting her, tongue dancing across her skin.

A whimper leaves her before she purses her lips. Heisenberg is so humored by this.

He leaves her side, goes to greet Alcina with some witty, snide remark. She doesn’t even notice [Y/N].

Eyes wide, [Y/N] glances around the room, looking for an escape of some sort. Maybe she could rush to the bathroom – make an excuse – finish off in there…

And then Heisenberg is calling her into the conversation; something about her wanting to try Alcina’s wine.

“Oh, my dear girl! I’ve stored some bottles in the kitchen here. Would you fetch them for us?” she calls.

Perfect – an excuse. She could almost weep a thank you to Karl as she gets up and tries to walk, as composed as possible, to the kitchen. His eyes are on her. She can feel them.

Alone in the kitchen, she decides to take a breath and focus: get the wine and glasses before trying to finger fuck herself.

It’s fairly empty so it’s not hard. A wine opener sits on the counter too and she rushes to open the bottle, tries to mentally work herself up again so it’s not a problem reaching her climax quickly.

Bottle open, everything spread out, shielded by the counter, [Y/N] starts to pull her long skirt up –

“[Y/N]?” Lady Dimitrescu ducks into the doorway, startling her enough for her to drop the fabric back down. “Oh, I see you’ve found the opener as well. Very good.”

“I-I’m excited to try it,” she stutters out, clearing her throat as the Lady picks up the bottle. She struggles to hide her swollen lips, looking away when Alcina tries to look closer at her.

Heisenberg is in the hallway, just beyond Lady Dimitrescu – smirking. Of course.

“Come, now, child. We’re needed in the vestry.”

[Y/N] follows, grabbing the glasses with shaking hands. As she passes Heisenberg, he tips his hat at her, that devilish smirk taunting her.

No one behind them, he places a hand on her ass as they walk. This whole sneaking around thing is way too much fun, he thinks.

Donna and Moreau are in the vestry, seated at the middle table. Alcina takes the bottle to the front, naturally, overachiever.

As [Y/N] gets her glass filled with wine, Heisenberg takes one of the two seats at the back table. She glances up at everyone in the room, notices the only empty seat.

“Back of the class,” Heisenberg cackles.

The front board is covered with a hand-drawn map of the village. [Y/N] takes her seat and tries to distract herself.

Heisenberg is smug beside her, running his hands over his facial hair to make that delicious scratch that she loves.

He watches her cross her legs, sip her wine, stare at the front of the room. A quiet chuckle comes from him. Slowly he starts rolling up his sleeves, exposing his muscled forearms. [Y/N] inhales sharply and he is so enjoying this.

Miranda joins them shortly, instantly cutting to information regarding the upcoming culling. Maps of the village contained information on houses, villagers, livestock. [Y/N] tries to focus, but once the lights dim, Heisenberg has his hand on her thigh and she’s trying to calm down.

She gives it a few minutes, waits for Miranda to introduce their next steps.

It’s so damn hard to focus though and every few minutes she’s switching one leg over the other just to have some sort of stimulation.

Heisenberg’s hand doesn’t leave her no matter her movements. He notices her shifting, bites back a laugh.

Lackadaisically, he lifts her wine glass to his lips, takes a sip, swallows, hums. The rumble of his throat makes her squeeze her thighs together tightly. He starts touching his facial hair again, the sound against his leather gloves so arousing.

“You just gotta ask nice,” he barely whispers.

She’s afraid they’ll be caught; afraid someone already heard his comment. Yet, when his fingers just barely graze over her cunt, she covers her mouth and inhales sharply.

“Please,” she whispers.

She breaks.

“Absolutely.”

He doesn’t lift her skirt like she hoped, but the pressure of his fingers against her clit is enough to bring her right back to that moment: with her face in his lap, her fingers buried between her thighs.

Talented fingers tense over her clit, massaging up and down. Holding her breath, she closes her eyes in hopes to focus on her orgasm. Biting her lower lip, she barely bucks up against his hand.

Heisenberg’s free hand is pressed against his cheek, elbow on the table. He hides his smirk as he hears a soft, shaky breath leave her. Good. Good girl.

The orgasm is powerful, breathtaking, considering she was refused a release before. Heisenberg’s fingers are relentless and she’s so impressed he can coax her to peak so quickly. Here, in this room, after she blew him – her lips still swollen, mouth tasting of a mixture of wine and his cum.

Her eyes shoot open as she takes in the scene around her. No one else pays her any mind, but Heisenberg is staring, hungry, pants tented again.

She’s breathless once more.

#heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg x you #smut #karl heisenberg

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years ago

Text

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 8- Bastards From Space

Summary: These past couple years in Wakanda with Bucky have been the best. Who would have thought some aliens would be the thing to ruin it all.

Warning: violence, angst, reader being a bad bitch, things get intense

Masterlist

Today had started as normal as ever, you woke up with Bucky’s arm slung over your face, his body practically covering you like a human blanket. Then you two got out of bed, did your usual morning routines, and started your day with helping the Wakandians with whatever tough job needed done for the next however many hours.

Which as of now happens to be chopping wood; you sit comfortably on a spared thick log while Bucky smashes the Vibranium axe into another chunk of wood while you watch him with a mischievous smirk playing at your lips. “You’re doing a fantastic job with that by the way.”

Bucky sets another one down as a smile pulls at his handsome face, “Oh yeah?”

“Yes, your form is just...amazing.” You applaud, making a chefs kiss motion with your fingers as he chuckles before splitting another hunk in two.

“You know..” Starts Bucky as he sets the axe against his shoulder while you rest your knuckles against your chin, “this would go a lot faster if you helped me.”

“Then I wouldn’t be able to watch you doing your thing....and by the way you look real fine, did I mention that already?” You add with a click of your tongue while he throws you a humored glare of affection.

“I could use your help.”

You point to the wagon seated next to you, “I did, I threw all these bags and split wood in here so now I’m taking my earned break that I obviously get because I finished my job. You on the other hand don’t deserve an earned break.”

Bucky huffs, deciding to ignore your little bout of sass that so unmistakably is targeted to rile him up, so instead does he mumble out something incomprehensible just for himself to hear, “Yeah, and if we were in that hut I’d show you an earned break.”

Snickering, you cross your arms while studying Bucky’s concentrated face; his dark mane is all wet and unwashed, clothes a bit dirty and unkept with some sweat stains marking them from when you two sparred each other that morning. But God if you don’t think he’s the most beautiful creature to have ever walked this earth in your lifetime. How did you ever get so lucky?

He’s been a true beacon of hope and refuge since Romania, and you’re for certain that if not for one another’s found love. You’d both be much lonelier people.

“What’r you thinking about?” Mutters Bucky while you return from your drifting thoughts. Though soon you’re alerted to the sounds of walking in the grass that draws your attention to the hillside. “Why the fuck is T’Challa here?” You move to stand and a moment later King T’Challa and a couple of the Dora Milaje are walking down the grassy hill with something in their arms to greet the two of you. The king of Wakanda appears a tad bit distressed, face unusually more serious then what marks his features most days. You immediately know something is wrong.

Bucky shares a wary glance with you as the king greets you two with a nod, “Mr. Barnes, Miss. Valerious.” One of his guardsmen unclasps the long black case only to reveal a Wakandian styled metal arm.

Bucky purses his lips as he looks down at the new appendage, “Where’s the fight.”

King T’Challa gives the two of you a hard expression, “On it’s way.”

——

After learning about some angry aliens on their way to take the mind stone from Vision, and that a good portion of the rouge Avengers are on their way to Wakanda. You and Bucky knew deep down something wild must be stirring in the universe for something as big as this to happen, something very bad indeed.

You just have no idea what.

Clasping your black armored top together, you move to put on the Wakandian black leathered Vibranium gauntlets that were gifted to you for this special occasion, not that it’s really that special, but you do look cool. The new armor feels solid and stable against your forearm as you focus on tightening the clasps when suddenly you can feel Bucky’s eyes on you.

“I know you’re looking at me.” You muse, side eyeing him.

He smiles, eyes never leaving you as you lock in the armor to your forearm. He studies the brilliant dark attire that’s laced with a vibrant golden hue, “You look like a warrior.” Admits Bucky almost in awe of how you’re currently looking.

You nod, “I’d feel a little out of place next to the Dora Milaje....but uh, this suit is nice.” You add with a shrug, “Comfortable and practical, they really know how to size right.”

“Yeah....” Mumbles Bucky with a breathy laugh while you focus on the task at hand, oblivious as to where his gaze wanders all over your vessel and the parts your new attire ever-so-slightly accentuates. He just thinks you’re so beautiful no matter how you look, and right now, in Bucky’s head you’re one fine specimen.

“How’s the new arm?”

Bucky’s wandering eyes soon shift down to the new dark plated Vibranium and golden laced metalwork, “Feels light. Like it’s apart of me you know? I still can’t believe how amazing their tech is.”

“I know right..” You pause for a moment, glancing warily over to the clock, “Well, guess we better get moving. Okoye said they’ll be here soon.” Bucky nods before zipping his jacket up the rest of the way and walking over to your side. He stops to buckle down the left side of your Wakandian styled black vest while you happily let him. Enjoying how close he is to you and the adorable way he sticks his tongue out when fully focused on a task.

Once done, Bucky takes a look at his handiwork, reaching to clasp your one hand with his. He smiles though a sadness hides behind those beautiful blues, “To battle?” Whispers Bucky.

Reaching a hand up to place a soft touch against his stubbled cheek, you smile fearlessly, “To battle.”

Soon the two of you are outside of T’Challa’s palace, standing off to the side as the king and his warriors greet the approaching Quinjet as it lands on the stone landing pad. A minute later, you catch the sight of a bearded Steve, a blonde haired Natasha, Sam, Bruce Banner, and lastly Wanda and Vision as they walk out side by side.

Vision looks hurt, and Wanda has a scar above her brow. Wonder what brute did that?

T’Challa welcomes the team before he nods and turns for them to follow, Vision and Wanda walk past you two as you finally see them clearer through the parting crowd, “How we looking?” Asks Natasha as she follows behind the king, Steve to her immediate right, the others following close behind them.

“You will have my Kingsguard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and...”

“And a semi-stable 100-year-old man.” Quips Bucky as all of you finally come face to face with one another, Steve immediately smiles as you walk next to Bucky. “Plus whatever the hell I am.” You jest as the two of them go in for a hug.

Natasha gives you a smirk as they part, “How you guys been?” Asks Steve, blue eyes flickering between you two.

Bucky looks over at you and shrugs, “Uh, not bad...”

“....for the end of the world.” You deadpan, causing Bucky to chuckle as well as Steve and Natasha.

“Well, it’s nice seeing you guys again...” Adds Steve as Natasha takes a step forward towards you. “We gotta stop meeting each other like this.” Quips the ex-assassin.

You snort at the little inside joke between the two of you, raising a brow at them, “You know, you guys don’t have to visit just because some aliens are threatening our entire existence. Couldn’t we have saved a reunion for a wedding or something?”

Steve sighs, “Yeah, that would have been preferred.”

“Too bad none of you invited us.” Smirks Natasha as she looks between you and Bucky with a raised brow of her own, his stubbled face growing a small shade of pink while you awkwardly cough, eyes darting elsewhere.

“Yeah, we’re getting there, Nat.” You mutter while rubbing the back of your neck, the thought of marrying Bucky has never actually crossed your mind. You love him, its just, you two married? Actually married? Would he even want that? You have no idea, maybe talking about it before the alien situation would have been helpful in the long run. Too late for that now, guess another time then.

“Alright, come with me upstairs my friends, my sister will see what can be done for your friend.” Adds T’Challa as he takes a step back, Steve, Natasha, and Bruce all following suit and through the doors they go inside to assess the Vision situation upstairs. Leaving Sam and Rodney.

You watch as Natasha’s body disappears behind the dark glass before turning around to meet a smiling Sam as he wanders closer to you and Bucky. Undoubtedly about to give you two a proper Sam-like greeting, “Nice to see you two weirdos again.” Chuckles Sam as he takes in how much or little you and Bucky have changed since a couple years ago.

“Can’t say the same.” Muses Bucky as you snicker at Sam’s half-offended reaction.

“I guess.....maybe....possibly.....it’s nice to see your annoying face, again.” You add, voice dripping with sarcasm as he nods, “Better then you coming to try and arrest us.”

“Alright, I’ll take it.” He smiles, “At least someone cares about me after all this time.” Side eyeing Bucky as he holds back a laugh.

“Never said that.” You mutter while shaking your head at him, “Definitely did not miss you at all.”

“You were thinking it.” Points Sam, “So was Bucky.”

“I wasn’t.”

About ten minutes later, after fully catching one another up on the happenings missed by the distance and time apart, the hair on the back of your neck pricks with the sound of something large and unfamiliar breaking into the atmosphere above. Soon a smoking metal ship crashes into the forcefield high above your heads, an explosion of fire and debris blasts in its wake as the destroyed object slides off the sides.

“God, I love this place.” Mutters Bucky as the three of you look to the sky.

“Yeah, don’t start celebrating yet, guys. We got more incoming outside the dome.” Announces Rodney on the ear coms as your face falls when more blasts crash against the protective outer barrier of Wakanda.

“Fuck......I’ve never met an alien before.” You mumble as they look to you now, your eyes wide and fearful as you stare up at the sky, “And I don’t think I want to.”

Soon more glaring fiery balls come racing past high up in the clouds headed straight for the Wakandian forcefield, violently crashing against it though nothing pierces through much to your great relief. Not even a minute later T’Challa and the rest of the team are on ground level with the rest of you. Urging everyone into the advanced Wakandian vehicles, you file in close to Bucky and Natasha as the driver begins making haste for the huge fields beyond.

Wind flies wildly past your face as you observe the growing smoke rising up from the broken and burning forest from where the aliens have landed, where they’re preparing for battle far behind the protective forcefield.

The hover vehicle reaches its destination on the knee high grass, immediately everyone files out; your boots fall into the soft ground as you find yourself on the field positioned in between Steve and Bucky while the rest of the Wakandian army keeps strong from your left, right and rear.

It’s a small comfort having everyone so near but it still feels like a false protection; Bruce is held in the Hulkbuster suit standing high and strong above the rest, while Rodney and Sam keep to the skies as they circle around in anticipation for what’s to go down.

You wish you felt better about this, but you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to feel dangerous and fearless, you’re not fighting against mortal men this time. These are beasts from a whole other world with no intention of sparing a life, they don’t care for human problems, they’re here for one single goal and that’s to take the mind stone.

Heart beating nervously in your chest, you turn a worried glance over to Bucky who’s holding a large machine gun in his left arm, he sends you a reassuring nod as T’Challa walks over to speak with Steve.

“There’s two by the perimeter, what our next move?”

“We’ve met the female one before, I guess we’ll go see if they can be reasoned with, though I’m afraid of their answer.” Begrudgingly replies Steve, eyes set ahead at two figures approaching the forcefield. One a tall broad scaled being and the other a half pale faced woman with two dark horns rising upward from her temples.

Steve, Natasha, and king T’Challa collectively decide to walk the distance to face them while everyone else remains in suspense. They speak for about a minute before walking back to the rest of you as the giant alien machinery shifts and rises with strange movement.

“They surrender?” Mutters Bucky as Steve takes his place by your side.

“Not exactly.” Well that sounds fucking promising.

Your body begins shaking with adrenaline as loud thunderous rumbling emits from the forest, a second later, large dog-like creatures race madly out of the tree line headed at a dead sprint for the forcefield.

“What the fuck.” You mutter, brows furrowed in confused bewilderment as the foreign creatures slam violently against the forcefield with little regard for what its doing to them.

Natasha hums, “Looks like we pissed her off.”

You nod as some of the beasts force their way through the guarded perimeter, they scream in fury and pain while their bodies and limbs get phased by the power of the giant shield protecting Wakanda.

“They’re killing themselves.” You can hear Okoye mutter in fearful bewilderment as the screaming creatures push through their violent assault, soon about a dozen break through, racing furiously over the shallow river and across the large battlefield to where everyone is standing.

King T’Challa shouts the battle cry as his army calls their technologically advanced shields to arms in an instant. The alien creatures thunder across the grass, getting closer and closer as the army around you begin shooting them down as fast as they can.

Bullets fly past your head as Bucky begins aiming for the beasts, shooting them down with great accuracy as you breath heavily from your growing adrenaline. Sam and Rodney shoot from the sky; you watch more fall but a plethora of others begins running off to the sides as they attempt at searching for an alternative way around the forcefield.

T’Challa realizing this, calls for the opening of North-West Section Seventeen, which is the one right in front of you all. Well this is it then, you think nervously. Dreading how the events of today may play out within the next hour, or ten minutes for all you know.

“This will be the end of Wakanda.” Mutters M’Baku as the section is lifted.

Okoye nods, face stoic and fierce, “Then it will be the most noble ending in history.”

T’Challa steps to the front lines before valiantly shouting, “Wakanda forever!” And with that does the warriors cry with courage and might as everyone including you begins a dead sprint across the grassy field, pumping your arms hard, you feel a thrill of strange excitement pulsing throughout your entire vessel as your boots thunder against the ground in tune with the beasts that charge onward.

Steve races inhumanly fast, you right on his tail as T’Challa makes ground to your immediate right. The rest of your fellow warriors keeping up as best they can. You don’t remember ever unsheathing your claws, or when they sliced violently into the thick skin of the first alien you met.

But soon your hands are covered in the warm inky blood of the creatures you’ve killed as you don’t have time to think, only kill and survive is all your mind is on. You’re practically on autopilot as the beasts thrash and slash at everyone in sight.

Suddenly one of them traps you between it’s bear paws and the rough ground, sharp daggered teeth chomping at your face as you drive your fist straight through it’s jugular and back out again, instantly a spurt of sticky dark purple blood sprays onto the side of your face as you turn away from the gory scene.

Shoving it off of you, another one punts you into the rocky earth, in retaliation you throw a clawed fist right across its shoulder. Making sure to sink it in deep when you reach its stomach. Screams of pain are all you hear as it dies, going still as stone while you jump right back into the action.

Without warning, about three pin you to the ground while you grunt and groan from the weight and their knife sized claws digging into your armored sides, damn you’ve really had better days. Shoving your Adamantium talons right through it’s exposed chest, it immediately goes limp as it’s two friends strain to reach you while it’s annoyingly bulky vessel pins you to the rough ground.

Your lungs struggle to take in a decent breath when suddenly a crack of lighting sounds throughout the battlefield, a second later the large alien bodies are thrown off of you from the force of bright white electricity, killing them instantly.

Sucking in a deep breath of relief and general oxygen, you jump to your feet only to take notice of a blonde man in some type of royal armor with an axe in one hand and sparks of lighting in the other. Oddly enough, a raccoon and a walking humanoid tree to either side as he scans the horizon before turning around and belting out, “Bring! Me! Thanos!” Before taking flight as more electricity sparks and shoots all around him.

Yeah, alright that’s normal. At least they’re on your side.

He lands and a giant plethora of white hot lighting emits all around him, killing many of the alien creatures where they stand. Though there’s no time to celebrate this small victory when giant circular machines of war burst forth from the ground, many going in different directions, but these couple begin heading straight in yours.

Eyes widening in fear, you book it in the opposite direction as T’Challa yells for his men to fall back for the tree line, your heart races a mile a minute as you force yourself to keep running through the exhaustion and slight pain in your left thigh from a heeling bite mark.

But just as the razored metal closes in behind you, a bright whispy red halts it in its place. Turning towards the source, you’re almost comforted to find Wanda at the hands of the machinery’s demise. She yells, throwing her hands back as the metal clashes across the battlefield, killing the beasts as they go.

And she was up there this whole time?

Turning to face more foes, you look over to notice as the female alien stalks across the ruined battlefield towards Wanda at an alarmingly hefty pace, dark rusted yellow eyes set and predatory as she reaches her oblivious prey. Smacking her armored fist across Wanda’s head, the Sokovian tumbles into a ditch, horned lady alien trailing after her.

Shit, you should do something.

Taking out another beast, you book it over to help Wanda, jumping into the wide trench behind the woman, you catch the end of her heated threat to Wanda, “He’ll die alone. As will you.” Venom tripping off of her every word, God why are they so angry?

“She’s not alone.” You growl, face painted with inky purple blood, claws shimmering in the sunlight as she whips around to face you. Her eyes trail over your body as she scowls in deep irritation, before handing her an unfriendly smirk, “Come on you ugly fuck.” You growl.

She lunges at you, weapon drawn as you dodge her deadly blow by the sharp thin blade. She quickly whips around and is kindly greeted by your claws that rips the dull white flesh of her lower face. Blood seeps out as she screams, face flaring a fierce anger as she powers through and thrusts her blade into your left shoulder. Fucking bitch!

You’re immediately greeted with a sharp stinging pain that rips violently into your body from the assault. A boot rudely kicks you backwards onto the hard earth as Okoye smacks her dagger across the woman’s back, distracting her from trying to end your life. Like that would work.

Blood pools hot and angry out of your opened flesh while Okoye and Natasha handle the horned bitch from behind you and Wanda. Your hands push you off the gravely earth as Wanda shares a fearful glance with you, giving her a pursed lip grin. You jump to your feet and assess the escalating situation before you; Okoye is breathing heavily on the ground as Natasha holds back the woman with her shocking stick while pinned on her back, straining to keep the opposing blade away from her throat.

“Hey!” You shout, causing the woman to lift her gaze from Natasha to you, she doesn’t even have a second to react as your clawed fist slashes a deadly blow across her face. She immediately stumbles back in shock as blood spirts wildly out of her deep cuts, her eyes going wide as saucers when you land a powerful kick into her lower torso, sending her body flying upwards only to be mauled by one of the circular razors rolling past.

Blue blood marking your already dirty face, you turn to look down at Natasha as she glances between the three of you, face dotted in blue blood just the same, “That was really gross.” Grimaces the blonde as you give the others a once over before jumping back out into the action.

Minutes fly by as you fight your way to the tree line closest to the Wakandian palace, suddenly Steve’s voice is heard in the coms, “Everyone, on my position. We have incoming.” And with that do you follow Bucky and T’Challa as they race into the woods where Steve, Natasha, Sam, Bruce, and Wanda is protectively holding Vision as they keep seated on the grassy earth.

Collecting your breath, you walk over to Bucky as everyone feels a soft hunting breeze blowing the trees around, “Something’s not right.” You mutter worriedly as he shares a nervous look with you.

“I know. Just stay close to me.”

You nod before giving him a weak reassuring smile, a moment later a strange anomaly of purple, blue, and dark grey clouds present themselves a small distance in front of you all. A tall figure of great stature and physical strength walks out from the odd whispy mass, he’s larger then anyone you’ve ever seen before, skin colored purple and golden laced armor of another world.

“Cap. That’s him.” Announces Bruce as you heart begins racing once more, oh shit oh shit oh shit. Fuck he’s really big.

Steve raises his two arm shields, “Eyes up. Stay sharp.” As he starts walking in the direction of you’re assuming is this Thanos everyone has been talking about.

Hulkbuster thunders past, but as Bruce reaches Thanos, his body turns a transparent blue and falls right through the purple alien before lodging himself in the rock of the ascending cliffside.

Steve’s next as he throws himself at Thanos, the titan uses his golden gauntlet when a sudden purply wisp of energy throws Steve into the trees. T’Challa lunges, but is swiftly stopped when Thanos’ giant hand wraps around his throat. He’s then thrown him down like a ragged doll; Sam is next, wings fold in on themselves and soon he’s down too.

Rodney right after as Thanos uses the gauntlet to crush him from within his suit, he’s promptly thrown to the side like a rock. Bullets fly violently through the air as Bucky fires shot after shot at the purple titan to no avail, he’s thrown across the ground like nothing.

Terrified yet too much full of rage to think, you race for the bastard titan as he pushes Okoye to the side, Natasha left disabled when tree roots throw themselves around her. He quickly takes notice as you jump on the roots, heading straight for him with an animistic rage flashing through your eyes.

His fist rises as he calls more roots to action, you skillful dodge their grip as you make a desperate jump for the titan below you now. He’s fast, but not fast enough to evade your clawed fist, the middle razor slashes a clean line right across his left eye as you tumble to the ground behind him, finding your footing in an instant.

Yourself now between him and the mind stone that’s currently getting destroyed by a tearful Wanda from behind you, though you’re not paying enough attention to fully realize what’s going down, you breath heavily while eyeing up the bulky man.

The pissed off titan whips around to meet your courageous glare, left eye missing, dripping with warm purple blood that trails like an ugly waterfall down his scared cheeks until it spatters to the forest floor. Face now visibly angered and very much in pain as he stares you down.

He takes a threatening step forward as you take a cautious one back, eyeing you up, he nods, “A clean hit, I’m afraid this one won’t heal for me unfortunately...nonetheless, I am impressed by your valor small one, but your bravery will be in vain.” Speaks the titan as you stare up at him with shaky breaths.

oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

A second later the power of his golden gauntlet sends you flying into the trunk of a thick tree, knocking you out on impact.

When you awaken with a jolt, your nose is wet with drying crimson that trails across your lips and chin. Nothing hurts anymore but your body feels incredibly weird, taking in a deep breath, you stand on shaky legs. Eyes scanning the area only to find a confused Thor who’s looking rather dreadful and lost.

Steve quickly runs up to him, eyes searching around for Thanos who’s nowhere to be seen, “Where’d he go?” Wonders Steve as you slowly walk over to them, “Thor....Where’d he go?” Asks Steve more urgently this time, blue eyes looking around to no avail. Thanos is gone. Just like that.

But how?

You quickly catch movement to your left, but it’s just Bucky walking over to the three of you. Heart filled with relief, you start walking over to him as he locks eyes with you, a confused expression crossing over his features as he looks over at his left arm.

You follow his puzzled gaze and watch as his arm begins to disintegrate like ash on a windy day. Bucky finds your concerned face; panic, confusion, and fear flashing through his stormy irises as he takes another desperate step to reach you, “Y/N?” Is all you hear as the rest of his body begins turning to dust right before your very eyes.

His gun falls to the ground with a thud as the rest of his body disintegrates to nothing more then ash and dust upon the grass. You freeze, it feels like your heart as just been frozen in ice and smashed with a steel sledgehammer without remorse.

You swallow, walking on trembling legs to where his ashes remain, you slowly kneel. Hand touching the area as delicately as you would hold a newborn, this isn’t real this is just a shitty dream and you’ll wake up any second with him right by your side.

It’s just a dream. But you know, it’s not.

Steve wanders to your side before kneeling down and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. Biting your bottom lip to hold the lump back that’s building in the back of your throat, you turn your head to meet him, your eyes glossed over with unshed tears.

He lowers his head in defeat as you stare bitterly back down at the ground where Bucky once was, lip quivering uncontrollably as you fight back a waterfall of hidden tears. The pain in your heart almost too much to bear. “Sam! Where are you?!” Shouts Rodney, a voice to bring you back to the world.

No, not the others too. How many did he take?

Blinking hard, a couple stray tears patter onto the brown ashes as you rise, Steve doing the same, you watch as he walks over to Vision who’s void of all color and taken of all life, a small crater marking the demise of his life force, the mind stone.

He kneels down to meet the body as Natasha runs into view, she quickly halts once her gaze falls onto Visions corpse, mouth agape in shock. Bruce, Rodney, that little raccoon, and Thor coming to from behind them as you amble closer to the distraught six, though your legs feel like they could give out at any moment.

“What is this?” Wonders Rodney as he looks from Steve to you and then over to Thor, “What the hell is happening?”

Tears stream silently down the sides of your cheeks now, they make a clean line from all the other dirt and blood that marks your skin. Breathing heavily, Natasha looks over to you, “Y/N?” She asks, voice wavering as her eyes trail over your mournfully stoic face.

He can’t be gone, not Bucky, not him.

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