#go away shipping desires!!!
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Will not be shutting up any time soon since I realized that Milkvan isn't oppressed forbidden love because El is literally the DADDY'S GIRL DAUGHTER OF A COP.
As I always say, it's all about where you set the start and end markers. Let's pretend we started at season 3, let's say. Mike is sad because his daddy's girl daughter of a cop girlfriend sides with her dad (surprise) who threatened him because he's overprotective (surprise).
That is literally the oldest most heterosexual plot in the book you could possibly think of. So much so that I swear it happens in life more than in the because it's so basic people don't touch it anymore.
#elmike tropes#anti milkvan#el is the daddy's girl daughter of a cop 😭#go her and her normalcy but that's soo funny to me i'm sorry#daddy's girl daughter of a cop with her two parents and two siblings#she's one “step-” away from being more nuclear family than the wheelers#which is good for HER and HER arc and desires#but girrrl if you are shipping mike with the closest to a typical family you can get outside the wheelers in this show#white girl cop daughter 5 person family#(i added white bc the sinclairs would be the accepted nuclear family but they're black)
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sorry for being mentally ill now but what fucks me up about Kasseivor are the what ifs. What would have been if we weren't doomed by our fate to live a lonesome life, what if we risked it to give in to our feelings despite being aware of the tragedy looming upon us knowing there won't be a happy end for us in any kind of outcome
#ramble#THEY WERE SO INTO EACH OTHER I'M GOING TO JUMP OFF A CLIFF!!!!!#TRAGIC SOULMATES IS WHAT THEY ARE#AASRZDSISJSSAAAAAAAAAAA /RIPS THINGS APART/#ships were both sides are aware of their desire & longing#yet knowing they cannot be together ever because of their circumstances 💔💔💔#i will be passing away now
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
tell me why it seems like 90% of byler shippers are the most smug, insufferable people i’ve ever had the displeasure of seeing on my dash. like can y’all be normal people LMAO
i’ve been following a smattering of general st fandom accounts that also post a lot about them for less than a week and i’m already like “damn i gotta fuckin go”
you’re telling me i survived 2013-2015 superwholock and free! shipping wars and i’m just right back in it in the year of our lord 2023? get a life LOL
#me seeing the 17th punching-down nickname for mileven: im seriously at my fucking limit#I DONT EVEN LIKE ONE SHIP MORE THAN THE OTHER#WHO GIVE A SHIT!!! BE NNORMAL!!!#saw a post today that was like 'ppl who ship mileven should be scared#bc the st social accounts didnt even post anything abt them for vday teehee mileven shippers are so delusional'#and i rolled my eyes so hard they almost popped out of my head#this shit does not matter! why are u being so mean to these 14 year old characters LOL#mileven and byler are both good! why are you pitting 2 bad bitches against each other!#when will ppl learn that it's more fun to analyze all ships wwith a neutral-positive pov#rather than trying to explain how the analysis makes YOUR ship better#like seriously go get a hobby that makes you happy#rather than wasting time trying to convince ppl they shouldnt ship smthn bc you dont like it#'oh but el makes mike feel inferior so it's a bad duo' bro what#like i see where youre coming from but he's allso 14#and has the potential to llearn to not feel that way bc el loves him#not my l key sticking every time i use it#anyway. yeah. it's annoying#time to go back to only following cool chill gifmakers#just. i dont think i'll ever understand the desire to focus only on ships#is it valid to analyze media and come away with intricate thoughts on rellationships? yes of course#but god. i just want general discussions about solo charas and the show as a whole#stranger things is a story about LOVE and not about ROMANCE#my aro/ace tendencies are flaring up :zany emoji:#i say things#ANYWAY. I HAVE TO. SHUT UP LOL
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
#( char. : image. )#poor girl...you know she constantly lives with the fear of this happening again - with the guilt of the knowledge l.eon is only alive#because the gun jammed & not that she could keep resisting.#it's disappointing in the remake that they don't ( outside of insinuation by ramón ) talk about what the plan was with her#that this was going to be her fate ( although i believe it would be far more subtle / spreading the plaga to those in power who#she and her father have access to ). that she would be the weapon used in this 'holy war'.#whilst i do like s.addlers character in the remake i find his og counterpart more interesting wrt to the island / navy / big capitalism#because it feels more realistic to how most cult leaders function - often to prop themselves up and get fame / attention / fortune /#a following of loyal people they can use & abuse for whatever their specific desire is.#whilst subtlety demands she is the perfect choice of carrier ( and im not implying anything here ) but it cannot be ignored that he chose a#young woman & had her forcibly kidnapped ( taken walking home & thrown in a shipping container - something that has happened to so many -#women who end up in awful situations and she likely thought that is what was happening ) and then took away her bodily autonomy#her sense of identity and trust in herself - leaving her with an unwanted intruder in her body.#though again i am not saying / implying i think the intention was / is an allegory#the fear of infection strikes with all the chars but especially with the parasitization of s.herry and a.shley -#a young girl & woman suffering because of their fathers - i doubt they interact but i think they'd get on spectacularly#m.anuela too though she doesn't have a parasite but she has the trauma wrt her father#sorry for the tag rambling!
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
(BOOK OF BILL SPOILERS)
I just finished reading The Book of Bill and I am kindof losing my mind over some of this stuff.
I had wondered if Alex Hirsch might make Bill sympathetic in some way and oh boy I was not expecting him to do it so successfully (and without cheapening Bill's character).
So, we learn that Bill was born into a 2D world... as a mutant who can see into the third dimension. He claims he was absolutely loved by all, but when talking about his powers, he mentions under Pyrokinesis:
"Cipher, Cipher, he's insane / Starting fires with his brain." The kids in grade school could be so cruel. But where are they now, huh? WHERE ARE THEY NOW?
So probably not quite as liked as he was letting on. To add to that, there's the silly straw page, which looks like silly nonsense until you decipher some of the codes:
"EYE DOCTOR OF A DIFFERENT KIND / WHO WANTS TO MAKE HIS PATIENTS BLIND" "THE DOCTOR SAYS / THREE SIPS A DAY / WILL MAKE THE VISIONS / GO AWAY"
I wasn't sure what this meant until I saw someone point out... he was seeing a third dimension that no one else could see. His parents probably took him to the eye doctor to try to "fix" him. Which, speaking of his eye doctor, the coded message in the section about human eyeballs says something interesting:
"MY OPTOMETRIST NEVER SAW IT COMING"
It could be a joke given beforehand he's talking about dissecting a human eye, but given the previous hints of medical abuse, I wouldn't put it past him that he tried to get revenge on his eye doctor.
Oh yeah and the whole thing about him setting his entire dimension on fire? Yeah it turns out it was entirely a mistake (he just wanted everyone to understand the third dimension he was seeing so they could be free of only two dimensions), he was so traumatized by it he blacks out when trying to recall it. He deeply, deeply regrets it, and...
"What? Your ENTIRE home dimension? destroyed? How? By what?" Bill looked distant, more distant than I'd ever seen him. "By a monster."
He sees himself as a monster.
And yet, he's not some innocent, misunderstood being. He still revels in causing pain and chaos. He's terrible in general, but becomes incredibly abusive toward Ford.
"YOU'RE MY PROPERTY. DON'T FORGET IT. The hillbilly abandoned you, your father won't want you returning without millions, you have no friends, and if you died out here in the snow, who would even miss you?"
Which... speaking of him and Ford...
Yes, yes, I know people ship them. But like, whether you see their relationship as romantic or platonic (I see it as the latter), there's some interesting parallels to be made here.
Both Bill and Ford are mutants who were mocked for their being different. (Bill was not physically a mutant, as far as we know, but more in the sense of him having vision stronger than that of everyone else in his dimension, and also having special powers. And he does describe himself as a mutant.) Both became social outcasts, separated from their families but still haunted by them (Ford seeing commercials of Stan on TV and running across old photos of him and his brother, Bill being haunted by his family in some form). Neither could return home for one reason or another. Both more powerful than their peers (Ford intellectually, Bill in terms of actual powers). Both of them isolated and alone. (Yes, Bill does have the Henchmaniacs, but they seem like shallow friends, and only really seem to follow him out of a desire to have a place to party.)
Ford was not aware of most of this, aside from knowing that Bill could not go home because his dimension was destroyed. But Bill absolutely saw himself in Ford. There was no other person he tried to use whom he felt a stronger connection to.
And he actually seems to care about Ford--he actually gave him a birthday present, and when Ford didn't like it, he decided to get drunk and party with him instead to make up for it.
And then when Ford realizes what Bill's plan actually is and refuses to go along with it, and fights back no matter what Bill does, Bill completely breaks down.
After living for trillions of years, he met someone who was like him, and that person rejected him.
He goes berserk, wreaking havoc, being caught by the dimensional authority that he's been taunting for most of his life.
And then after dying and being cast out of hell for being too annoying, he winds up faced with the Axolotl, who sends him to therapy, where he continues to break down further, sending out the book in a desperate attempt to find someone, anyone who will help him break loose and wreak havoc once again.
"You have no friends, and if you died ... who would even miss you?"
I don't know, Bill. Who would even miss you?
In short,
[ID: The front and back of one of Bill's Valentines cards. On the front is a black void with Bill Cipher lying down without his hat, gazing blankly upwards, with the text "I DON'T WANT TO DIE ALONE" above him. On the back is a simple white "TO/FROM" in red, with a red outline illustration of Bill spontaneously growing a mouth and eating a realistic, bloody heart. /end ID]
#bill cipher#stanford pines#gravity falls#gravity falls spoilers#the book of bill#the book of bill spoilers#oh gosh I haven't thought this hard about gravity falls in so long
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
always sad going to look for someone you haven't talked to in years, not even to talk to them but just to look back on the things that lead you to meet and talk at the time. and finding something! a lead! and then discovering that all of that is just, gone. evaporated. finding more leads on that person and everything has been scrubbed
#i met some pretty cool people on a project thing that unfortunately but in retrospect predictably didn't go anywhere#and i've occasionally gotten a desire to go back and look at the person who started putting it together's blog#found it. and their youtube channel. but nope! its just gone now#i mean i don't know what i would have done even if it was still there#but. idk. i like being able to look and reflect on the past sometimes#digging up posts from years and years ago#so its sad to see certain things just Gone#i don't really talk to any of the people i met during that time anymore either. tbh i think the only one i see around anymore is ronya#always a delight to see her art though! so that's nice#if for some reason you see this and were on that fe fan project thing back in the day and want to reach out and just. chat or say hey#like ships passing in the night and throwing glowsticks at each other. reach out!#pretty sure i was still doomedentertainer at the time. this would've been like 2015? i was a “writer”. god that was on SKYPE#i think rambling in the tags has gotten away from me. gonna call it there
1 note
·
View note
Note
Girl, since you mention the OP dilfs, I would LOVE to see some headcanons or something about either how they flirt with you or when they realize they like you 👀👀👀
you can add who you like but I’m begging for Shanks and Mihawk ✨🧍🏽♀️
hi!!!!! I went with 'realising they like you, and I actually added most of the dilfs. hope you enjoy 🤤🙏
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Realising He's In Love | ♡
characters: beckman, buggy, crocodile, dragon, mihawk, shanks, smoker
cw: fem!reader, crocodile's is suggestive,
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Beckman
Beckman realises his love for you on a random cold morning.
It's a very rare calm day aboard the force. Beckman, sitting in a chair on the deck, listens to those of his crewmates who are awake this early, navigating around the ship. He hears your voice humming a pretty tune. He hears the clanking of pans in the background, giving away your location.
When he enters the kitchen, he sees you dancing around and helping yourselves to Lucky Roux's ingredients.
“Whatcha doing?” he asks. He laughs as you jump, startled by his interruption.
“It's kind of chilly out, and you were running a little cold this morning, so I'm making us some nice warm breakfast,” you say, adding ingredients to a pan. Your desire to take care of him warms him up enough already. He walks up to you and wraps his arms around your waist. He buries his face into your neck as he hums in response. The domesticity of it slaps him in the face. A warmth spreads through his body. He understands, in this moment, what it is to truly love someone, but he'll keep it as his little secret for a while longer
✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Buggy
Everyone is so mean to him. All his life, he's been treated poorly. Then he meets you; you're a subordinate of Mihawk's that he's brought along to the cross guild. Mihawk is a solitary creature, so the fact he keeps you around must mean you hold some value to him. This fact scares Buggy; it makes him distrust you, even if you're so kind to him.
You talk to him gently, offer to pour him drinks when he stops by Mihawk's tent and patch him up when his two business partners beat him down. At first, he thinks you have alternative motives, that this is a ploy, and you're going to hurt him in some way. Then, he thinks you're patronising him and taking pity on his poor soul.
It takes Mihawk stomping his boot down a little too hard, which causes you to step in and beg your boss to back off, to make him realise you genuinely care about him. You standing up to Mihawk despite what repercussions it may have is the day he realises that he doesn't ever want you to leave.
✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Crocodile
He's pretty into you from the beginning, but he doesn't fall quickly. You're a colleague, a hard worker, and he likes you. He takes you to many galas and events and proposes that the two of you should work together more often. That leads to the two of you being tangled in the sheets, and Crocodile makes it clear to you that this ‘relationship’ is sexual in nature and nothing more. You're fond of the man, but you keep your feelings to yourself. Until one night when he needs to take his stress out and finds himself unable to be rough with you.
He doesn't lay your back against his sheets, doesn't flip you onto your front and squish your head into the pillows. Instead, in a move that baffles you, he asks you for a kiss. You oblige, seated on his lap on a soft velvet sofa. His hook caresses your leg, keeping you pressed to him while his hands explore you. You gently ask if he's ok, careful not to anger the beast beneath you. He nods, moving his kisses down to your neck. He feels it in his heart, his chest crumbling from the inside as he bares it to you with every kiss placed on your skin.
He laughs at himself as he remembers telling you this was nothing more than sex. What a fool he was.
✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Dragon
Dragon and you are dating, and you have been for a while. He's quite frankly terrified of love. He's been there once, and it didn't work out for him. He takes things slowly with you. Every late-night talk and comforting hug in the privacy of your room pulls his heart deeper and deeper.
He realises just how deeply in love he is when he sees you standing with Koala, giving her some advice. Your heart is what attracted him to you in the first place. Seeing you so readily help other people makes him realise just how strongly he feels about you. He more than loves you; he admires you. He approaches you as Koala leaves, looking much calmer than she did before.
“Is she ok?”
“She's fine, honey. Are you ok?” It's a simple question of concern, but it still has his heart squeezing in a way he's never felt before. He kisses you softly, hoping the action will convey his feelings properly.
✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Mihawk
He's very straightforward and to the point. He knows what he wants. He realises he likes you pretty much immediately after meeting you.
The first time he meets your eyes from across the bar, he plans to take you back to your home, entertain you and leave you before you wake the next morning. Then he strikes up a conversation with you, and everything changes.
“Can I buy you another drink?” he asks, sliding into the seat next to you.
“Please don't, this cheap wine tastes like shit. I could probably use this as a truth serum against my enemies” You bite, smacking your lips together at the bitter taste. Something about your attitude lights a flame in Mihawk. He's found a kindred spirit in you. A fine woman with a fine taste. Now he's intrigued by you, suddenly struck with a desire to know more.
So he starts talking to you about wine. There's no flirtation in his words, no exaggerated flattery or innuendo. He asks about you, divulges very little about himself and then tells you he found you interesting. He asks if you'd like to go home with him and see his much more impressive collection of wine. Of course, you accept. He lets you break open a well-aged bottle, drinking happily with you.
✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Shanks
Oh, he's pathetic, actually. Everyone else realises before he does. He denies it with every fibre of his being. You've known each other for a long time. Every time you touch him, talk back to him, even look at him, his heart stirs. He has to tell himself the tightening of his chest is just the drink catching up to him.
After a night of drinking and joking, you go off to bed. When you part with your captain, you're so drunk that you don't even realise what you're doing and press a goodnight kiss to his cheek. You cart yourself off to bed, tiredly waving at your crew. You go to sleep, completely oblivious to the fact that Shanks is currently turning the colour of his hair while Yasopp and Roux tease him for it. Beckman gives him a look that says, ‘I told you so’.
“I'm not in love with her”, he groans as he's hit with flashes of all the times you've made his heart skip a beat. “ I just think she's beautiful, smart, talented, fun and” he pauses his sentence when he realises he's rambling, rambling about you. “I'm in love with her,” he sighs, putting his head in hand. What kind of captain falls for his crewmate?
✩♬ ₊˚.☁️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Smoker
Smoker doesn't realise until it's almost too late. The two of you are co-workers and have known each other for years. While working together, an enemy you hadn't noticed takes a shot at you, and Smoker puts himself in the line of fire. The bullet hits his ribcage, and enough of the soldiers under his command help him away to be seen by a doctor.
Seeing that bullet fly towards you had every missed opportunity to kiss you, cycling through his brain. He moved to save you, knowing it would harm him because he realised at that moment he would rather die than spend a single minute without you. He needs you to eat, breathe and sleep. He convinced himself at one point that you two were just inseparable friends, but the singular bullet in his torso had the truth bleeding out of him.
When he wakes up from surgery, you're sat in his hospital room, asleep in a chair next to his bed. His busy heart relaxes, seeing you safe and sound. He considers the bullet a silent vow of protection. A vow he will never break.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading. comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡
tag list: @bloodfixnd @sexysapphicshopowner @beachaddict48 @lem-hhn @quanxifangirl @mythicallystupid
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
#one piece x reader#fem!reader#shanks x reader#mihawk x reader#crocodile x reader#buggy x reader#smoker x reader#dragon x reader#benn beckman x reader#monkey d dragon x reader#sir crocodile x reader#buggy the clown x reader#op x reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter 1: I said, "dancin' is a dangerous game"
series masterlist previous part || next part
pairing: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader WC: 2.5k words
Warnings: period-typical gender roles, lowkey why do i ship daphne and y/n....
Summary: At her wit's end after Anthony's multiple attempts to scare away her suitors, Daphne employs her best friend's help to keep her brother distracted while she tries to find a husband. It's a foolproof plan, except it ends up working a little too well. (or, a Bridgerton version of The Taming of the Shrew/10 things I hate about you)
May 13, 1812 - You were in Hyde Park less than ten minutes before you saw Daphne Bridgerton's figure out of the corner of your eye. Delighted that she'd joined you earlier than expected, you waved her over.
"Hello, Daph," you greeted cheerfully, scooting over so your best friend could sit beside you on the bench. "I didn't think I'd see you for a few hours, given how many gentlemen asked you to dance last night. Did none of them call?"
Daphne groaned, a scowl set deep on her face, as she took a piece of bread from your basket and broke it into chunks to feed the ducks.
"Don't remind me. Most of them called, actually," she responded. "If only Anthony had let me have three seconds with them I might have been able to discern whether or not I was actually interested. He barged into the sunroom and promptly kicked everyone out. There was not a single suitor left in the room by the time he'd finished!"
You snorted. "Ah, so the overbearing eldest brother is once again to blame."
"Isn't he always?" she responded, too annoyed to match the lightness in your tone.
You just smiled to yourself and fed the ducks silently, knowing Daphne well enough to hide your smile from her, given that she was more than likely fuming at Anthony's constant meddling. You knew he meant well, but he was known to go a bit overboard at times. Well, most times. Especially when it came to Daphne's courtships.
"Anthony's the biggest rake in Mayfair, anyway. I don't know exactly what moral high ground he thinks he's standing on but it's certainly not as sturdy as he assumes," continued Daphne, still upset over that morning's happenings.
"Is it really that bad, Daph?" you said in an attempt to console her. "At least you're not getting hordes of unpleasant men at your doorstep every day. And you know the kinds of men that frequent the ton aren't always the kind you'd want to spend your afternoons with."
"I'm not getting any men at my doorstep! That's the problem!" exclaimed Daphne, exasperated. "I know you might not share the same desires as me, but I would eventually like to get married and have a family."
"I want to find a husband, too," you insisted, your tone bordering on defensive. "I just don't particularly feel bothered to look for one during my first season."
Daphne sobered immediately, coming out of her annoyance toward her brother as she could sense you were upset. "I didn't mean it like that, I swear," she insisted, placing a hand on your shoulder and looking into your eyes. "It was just-"
"I understand," you smiled at her, placing your hand over hers. "I just don't have the same urgency as you do, on account of my father having absolutely no stake in my marital status. No stake in anything about me at all, actually."
It would be a sad sentiment if you weren't used to it. You were an only child, and your mother had died after getting ill when you were only five years old. Your father, of course, was quite busy with the land he managed, and thus most of your upbringing had just been you and your governess. And the Bridgertons, of course.
You had met Daphne when she was eight and you were seven, and the two of you had gotten along splendidly since then. Since you had no real family of your own, bar your absent father, you spent copious amounts of time at the Bridgerton residence at Daphne's insistence. You now found yourself to be a semi-permanent fixture in their house, feeling just as home there as you did at your father's home.
This proximity to the Bridgertons had made you intimately familiar with Anthony's overprotective demeanor. Ever since you and Daphne were young, Anthony had gone out of his way to make sure that his siblings were cared for. Sometimes that included you, too. But unfortunately, he could take it too far sometimes.
"Did you like anyone last night, at least? Your dress was quite magnificent and I know I'm not the only one who noticed," you winked at Daphne.
She hummed thoughtfully. "I don't entirely know. I don't think one dance is enough to know whether I truly like someone," she responded, slumping down on the bench.
"Especially not when Anthony cuts the dance short halfway through," you laughed, recalling the eldest Bridgerton's attempts to thwart Daphne's search for a husband.
But your comment did nothing to lighten the mood. Instead, it seemed to make your friend even more irritated.
"It's my second year out in society! I still don't have a husband. Not even close to it, apparently," continued Daphne, aggressively tossing bits of bread into the pond.
"Well, you have to marry eventually. Anthony can't keep you away from every man for the rest of your life!" you argued.
But this did little to quell Daphne's annoyance. "He's certainly trying," she muttered.
"We can ship him off to the West Indies for the season," you joked. "Surely he won't be able to interrupt your suitors from halfway across the globe."
Suddenly, Daphne raised her eyebrows, looking at you with a devious smile.
"I was only joking! We can't actually ship him away," you laughed. "Besides, how would the ladies of the ton ever survive without the most desirable bachelor who is always just out of reach?"
Daphne snorted, amused at your dig at Anthony. "No, no, we don't have to ship him away," she said. "But you are correct in saying that I need time away from him to fully explore potential matches."
You hummed in agreement, imagining how much easier life would be for Daphne if her older brother simply... let her be. "Is he going on a hunting trip soon?" you said hopefully.
Your best friend shook her head, still smiling at you like she was plotting something.
"What is it?" you pressed, laughing at her expression.
"Can I ask you a favor?" she said, an expectant look in her eyes.
“Yes, I’ll kill Anthony for you. I’ve only been waiting for you to ask,” you joked.
“No,” Daphne laughed. “I’m serious.”
“Go on then,” you nodded.
“Could you ask him to dance at tomorrow’s ball?”
“Me? Ask him? Are you out of your mind?” you sputtered. You had never danced with Anthony at a ball, and you couldn't fathom the first time you did so being after you were the one to ask him.
“Y/N, please. I can’t just rely on forlorn glances across the ballroom to secure suitors. I need to actually speak with them, and I won’t be able to if Anthony keeps... hovering.”
Granted, hovering was a very generous word for what Anthony was really doing. But still, you looked at her, uncertainty in your eyes. You weren’t particularly keen on asking Anthony to dance, knowing he was famously opposed to marriage at this point in his life. Yes, you had grown up around him, but that didn’t mean he was interested in you at all, and you didn’t want to face that rejection if you could avoid it.
“Don’t give me that look! I promise it’ll work,” cried Daphne, desperate. “Just tell him you feel like dancing but don’t want to give another man the wrong impression since it’s only your first season and you’re still biding your time. Most of which is true.”
She made a good point. You didn’t want the hordes of men that seemed to flock to Daphne just yet. And would one dance really hurt that much?
---
The music in the ballroom pleasantly surrounded you as you stood next to Violet. Daphne had left to dance with Lord Wilson, a bachelor of very distinguished background who seemed to be hanging onto every word your best friend said.
Just as you turned to Violet to comment on how well-suited the pair looked, Anthony stormed over to where you were standing.
"It's unbelievable that she's even giving him the time of day," he said lowly, looking wholly unimpressed by the dance happening a few feet in front of him.
You could feel Anthony growing tense beside you as the seconds ticked by, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. Three seconds of his sister speaking with a man and he was ready to explode already? He was worse than you thought.
You saw Daphne lean back as she laughed at something the gentleman said, and you knew you had to act fast before Anthony intervened.
“Oh, the music is wonderful tonight! Anthony, would you care for a dance?”
He tore his gaze away from his sister and looked at you, perplexed.
“Are you asking me to dance?”
“I believe I am, Anthony,” you said.
He scoffed, not quite believing you. “That is not very proper of you, Lady L/N.”
“And you are a great authority on propriety, I presume?" you said, a playful edge to your voice. "Given your… adventures as a rake, surely you have a better idea of what is proper than I do.”
Anthony choked at your bold choice of words, not used to people calling him out so publicly. “Y/N! Why do you want to dance with me then, if I'm such a rake?”
You rolled your eyes. “I just enjoy the music and want to dance. And I don’t want to give any other men the wrong impression,” you recited exactly what Daphne had told you to say.
He nodded reluctantly and took your hand. “Very well. One dance, then. I don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression of me either.”
This was the last time you ever did anything for Daphne. God, how difficult could one man be?
But all of your annoyance faded away once he placed his hand on your hip and spun you around. This was rather nice, you found yourself thinking. You hadn't properly danced at a ball yet, and you couldn't help but think that you'd missed out on a rather enjoyable activity.
The dance was going along quite smoothly, and you and Anthony seemed to be melting together, no longer two individuals but instead moving more like one entity. You were especially enjoying whenever his grip shifted slightly and his hand ran across the small of your back. To be truthful, you were simply having fun.
That is until you felt Anthony shifting you across the dance floor so you could get nearer to Daphne and the gentleman she was dancing with. Feeling Anthony's shoulders tense underneath your gingerly placed hands, you looked up at him.
Looking into his eyes, you raised your eyebrows. "She's fine, you know. You don't have to watch over her every second of every ball."
Anthony rolled his eyes, dismissing your comment. "Of course I do. She's my sister! I have to take care of her. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her or if she ended up betrothed to a dolt."
"Anthony," you softened your tone. "It's quite alright. It's not all up to you. You've got an entire family to keep her safe. And me, of course."
You could feel his muscles relax under your hands. "Thank you," he breathed out. "I know all of that to be true. I just worry about her. And about you! But luckily there aren't many suitors of yours to scare off."
"Oh," you said, your voice squeakier than you intended. "Thank you?" you questioned. You weren't quite sure how to take his comment.
"No!" he rushed out, immediately realizing what his words sounded like. "I didn't mean it like that. Daphne had just mentioned that you're not as interested in finding someone right now since it's your first season. And I hadn't really seen you dance with anyone at one of these balls before. And-"
"It's no trouble, Anthony," you smiled, giggling at how flustered he'd gotten. "I appreciate the concern nonetheless."
He shook his head, still not believing that he'd been so rude toward you. As much as you were a familiar face around his home, he couldn't quite tease you the way he did Daphne or any of his other sisters, and he was dreadfully embarrassed that he had made you upset, even if just for a moment.
"If you ever want to dance again, just come to me, understood?" he said, his voice turning serious. "I don't need another one of you to worry about."
You could barely contain your laughter as the music came to an end. "Yes, Anthony," you said dutifully, smiling at how silly he was being.
Looking over at Daphne, you were pleased to see that everything had gone to plan and she'd had the chance to talk to Lord Wilson the entire time you'd been with her brother. It was a relief that she'd finally gotten a normal courting experience.
Before Anthony could reach her and wrench her away from her suitor, Daphne rushed over to you, grabbing your arm excitedly.
"Shall we take a turn about the ballroom?" she suggested, leaving you no room to protest as she led you away from her mother and brother.
You laughed at her excitement, glad that your best friend was finally enjoying herself.
"Thank you so much, Y/N, truly," she gushed, squeezing your arm affectionately. "That was absolutely incredible. It's the longest time I've been able to spend with a potential match without Anthony hanging over my shoulder."
"I'm happy to do it," you said amusedly. "He was that lovely, then?"
"Oh, absolutely not," she shook her head. "Lord Wilson was dreadfully boring. But at least now I know! And I don't have to pine over him or wonder what he would be like. I know for certain I'm not interested, and I can focus on finding my true love match."
"That's wonderful, Daph," you laughed. You truly held so much affection for her. It was endearing to see her so excited over spending time with a man she didn't even like.
Suddenly, Daphne slowed her pace. Turning you around, she held both of your hands and took a deep breath. "Yes, it was. Which is why I must ask you to dance with Anthony tomorrow night as well."
"What do you mean? Ask him to dance again? I thought this was only for tonight," you sounded unconvinced. Asking her brother to dance one time had already been enough of a hassle, but having to pretend to need him to dance with you once more was looking like an insurmountable challenge.
"Please, Y/N," she begged. "It's the only way I'll find a husband that isn't someone like Nigel Berbrooke," she added, whispering the last part.
It was true, Anthony seemed to have impossibly high standards that only the most unpleasant bachelor in Mayfair seemed to be able to meet. If you could do anything to protect Daphne from that unpleasant fate, you would do it.
"I suppose I could try tomorrow night. Though I can't promise he'll want to dance with me again. Anthony seemed quite reluctant tonight," you conceded.
"Nonsense," said Daphne, rolling her eyes. "Anthony loves you dearly, I can't imagine he'd ever turn you down."
"Whatever you say," you responded, unconvinced but unwilling to dampen your best friend's chipper mood. Besides, you had a wonderful time with Anthony tonight. How could another dance possibly go wrong?
—
previous part || next part || buy me a ko-fi!
Turn on post notifications for @bosbas-library to stay updated when I post or get added to the taglist!
#bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#anthony bridgerton x reader#bridgerton fake dating#anthony bridgerton imagine#anthony bridgerton fanfic#anthony bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton fanfic#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton fluff#anthony bridgerton angst#anthony bridgerton fake dating#bridgerton x you#anthony bridgerton x you#bridgerton fluff#bridgerton angst#the taming of the rake#the taming of the rake: writing
898 notes
·
View notes
Text
Rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife.
A/N : I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately… this wasn’t based on anything in particular and is definitely not historically accurate, this is just another universe LOL!
Warning : brief mention of SA, mentions of whores, homophobia (not by any of the characters, just mentioned in a backstory!), giving head (female receiving), tiny hint of overstimulation, almost caught in the act, probably forgot something lol ! NOT PROOFREAD !!!
(Pirate) Han Jisung x (afab) Reader
Summary : After being captured by a gang of bandits you get saved by a mysterious man called Jisung, what you don’t know is that he is in fact something your parents always warned you for, a pirate.
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
“Stay away from me!”
“Wow wow wow little lady, relax. I’m not going to harm you” the man in front of you said with his hands up in the air in surrender despite the small yet devilishly sharp knife still laid between his thumb and index finger.
“Do you want my help or not?” He asked, raising a brow as he looked at you up and down.
“I’ve got everything under control, thank you very much” you spat back, sighing deeply as you try to once again squirm out of the tight robe that was around your body and hands.
Everything was in fact not under control. There you were, bound to the pole, hands tied behind your back and hair stuck to your face with the sweat from your forehead, breathing heavy with your dress half cut up by the bandits who took you capture. Despite their desperate tries you had manage to keep them away from you enough for them to not take it further than some disgusting groping and touched here and there. However despite your deadly looks you shot their way it couldn’t take away the looks of desire they shot in your direction as another one tried to cut off a button of your blouse…
The aggravating man who had jumped on board of the ship all cocky started to whistle as he sat up on the edge of the boat, carelessly taking the knife and removed some dirt under his finger nails. “Just let me know when you need my help, missy” he sung, acting all nonchalantly as if he wasn’t also on a bandit ship, all alone against the 30 men that could show up any second. Not that you had any hope that he would survive one of the men for that matter. They were all buff, scary with scars everywhere, you could tell they were up to no good. This guy? He was skinny, lanky built, curly brown hair and despite his aura feeling like he would be a big man… he was quite a short guy.
“Fine, just get me out of here before they come back” you mutter, the guy looking up at you, stopping mid-through the melody he was whistling. Then he shook his head and his lips left a few of tsk tsk tsk to show his displeasure. “What sort of lady are you? Not even a simple please? I’ve met whores down at the red district with more charm and politeness than you” he stated and rose a brow. That awful awful cockiness would drive you mad but you were desperate.
“Please can you help me out of these fucking ropes? I’m not planning on becoming these bandits slave or sex toy” you state, earning a pleased smirk by the mysterious guy who by ease jumped down from the edge and walked up to you. He then easily cut off the rope using the knife before he put it back into the holder in his belt.
“There we go, now I suggest we leave before those idiots come back” he says, a smug smile on his lips. Within a second you had stepped away from the damn pole, singing deeply as you rubbed your previously tied up wrists with your hands to ease the irritation that the rope had caused. “Thanks” you sigh, walking over to the edge and looked out at the dock, multiple ships stood there and you could hear the muffled sounds of parties and people if you looked out to the town ahead of you… “where even are we?” You sigh, not sure where they had taken you, surely from the accent of the man it was far away from your home…
“Welcome to Incheon city, ma’am! The place filled with dreams, nightmares, whores, pirates and a great amount of cheap alcohol” the man burst out, now somehow standing on the edge walking around as if it wasn’t a 10 meter drop down to the ice cold water below. “Oh fuck! I’m Jisung, by the way, Han Jisung” he added. “It’s nice to meet you, what’s your name?” He asked proudly.
You were about to answer when you heard a voice behind you.
“She has escaped!” A roaring man’s voice yelled as he had climbed up the ladder on the other side. You remembered that man very well, after all he had tried to fuck you at least seven times since your capture a few days ago. Along with him came 4 others, you look back at Jisung with panicked eyes, but you were met by a pair of awfully calm ones. He let out a sigh in displeasure, almost as if he thought the whole ordeal were just bothersome.
“Alright boys, let’s say after me” Jisung started, grabbing one of the robes that the bandits used to climb up to the watch tower. “If you are despite to get a quick fuck, go to a whore house, not kidnap someone” he then continued, cutting the rope off with the knife he had previously used on the ropes that had you tied up. Then before the men could reach you he swung in the rope, using his legs and made 2 of the men fall to the ground in a loud groan. That’s when he grabbed both of the men’s revolvers, tossing one of them to you, which you catch in pure panic. Looking at the man, he easily got all men on the floor, despise them being twice his weight. “Close those pretty eyes for me, pretty lady” Jisung instructed, as if it was an instinct you did exactly like he said and as soon as your eyelids had fallen down so all you saw was darkness the ship echoed with a shot, another another, another and-
“All done, missy” a voice said, opening your eyes you saw the men’s lifeless bodies on the wooden floor, blood painting the deck that poured out of their head. It wasn’t the first time you had ever encountered a dead body before but it was certainly the first time seeing so much blood at the same time, despite being outside you swore you could smell the stench of iron in the red dark liquid ahead of you. Jisung however didn’t give you the luxury to take in the scene for more than a few second, he had other plans. He grabbed the rope he had used before and swung in it, grabbing your waist as you let out a screech, holding onto him with all dear might. You were certain you’d fall straight into the ice cold water below but before you could think twice you felt your feet hit a steady familiar sensation. You open your eyes you had no clue that you even closed in the first place and there you were, still holding onto the man with all your might but standing on the ground below…
“We should leave before more men come back and notice the tiny little mess I caused on their ship” he stated, you realise how damn close he was to your body… your heart beating fast in your chest, perhaps it was the adrenaline of being rescued or seeing the dead bodies that flooded through you, perhaps it was for the fact that this bold man had laid his hands on you and it wasn’t for the wrong intentions, at least that’s what you thought it was?
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊
The music was loud, people chit chattering even louder, women with dresses that enhances the chest area was practically fucking some men in the corners. But after what you went through? The dodgy bar that Jisung took you to was a luxury hotel from what you had been dealing with capture at that ship…
You get snapped out of your thoughts with about bang, in front of you stood now a large pint of beer, fizzing and foaming up to the edges. Jisung then sat down and took a large chunk of his own pint he still held in his hand. “There we go, don’t worry, the beer is on me. I figured you’d need it after that whole experience. I doubt those shitheads knows how to feed a lady” he stated, chuckling a bit, using the other chair next to him as a stand for his feet as he let out a groan in relief. “Now, what was that name of yours? I didn’t get catch it last time”
“My name?”
“Your name”
“Oh, right. It’s Y/N, Y/L/N Y/N” you whispered. When you said your surname you saw how Jisung choked on his beer, almost spitting it out again in shock. He hit his chest repeatedly until the beer had gone down the right pipe again.
“Fucking hell? As in the Y/L/N-clan? You’re their daughter? You’re a fucking high class noble woman! How the fuck did you end up captured by them then? Isn’t that miles and miles away?” He asked. Looking at you with huge eyes, the foam of the beer had given him a light moustache. You let out a slight giggle from the look on his face, then you take a big chunk of your own beer.
“I ran away, they set you marry me away 4 days ago, that night I couldn’t take it, I hated that old man they set me up with, he was at least three times my age but the wallet weight more than my family’s love for me I suppose. What I didn’t calculate for was that I’d be captured in the middle of the night by those men who had no idea who I was, so they said they’d keep me as their whore, slave or both. I sailed stuck to that pole until this evening, so thank you for saving me, I wish I could repay you but I don’t have anything of worth on me” you whispered, feeling a flood of guilt flush over you, he had saved your life and you couldn’t even repay him?
“I’m not asking for a payment, Y/N. I saved you because I felt like it, not from the goodness of my heart, not from whatever your noble brain can come up with, I saved you because I was bored and saw you on their deck. Alright? No need to pay me” he stated. Crossing his feet over the other on the chair next to him.
“But there must be something-“
“Enough. I don’t need anything I promise, we’re alright” he said quickly. Looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your heart beat faster again… it could possibly not be adrenaline now, right? For sure he is handsome, but is he even your type? Do you even have a type?
“So what will happen with you now? I’d say get a new dress is your first option, you can’t walk around with your tits almost hung out unless you want someone to accuse you for being a whore” Jisung stated, which made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. You quickly tried to gather the material that was left from what the men had cut off, looking down at your ripped and ruined clothings...
“I have no money and nowhere to go, but do not worry about me, I’ll find a way” I say calmly, smiling in a reassuring manner, even if you were terrified. When you had ran away from home you had no plan, you just knew you had to get out of there before it was too late…
“I may have an old dress or two for you to get, neither of my mates will mind, it’s not like they walk around in a skirt ever..”
“Your mates?”
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊
Your chest was beating faster than ever, you felt like you’d pass out any moment…
“You’re a pirate?”
Your entire life your parents had warned you about the pirates that hunted the seven seas. They took what they wanted, murdered, fucked the women and ran off, your father had always said if you ever had the displease of coming a cross a pirate run away and don’t look back before you call the local sheriff. Perhaps if you had heard about this before he rescued you, you’d agree to your father’s words but now? Especially after spending a couple hours with the man you had come to quite enjoy his company. A sexy man who seemed charming enough with perhaps a bit too big of an ego than you’d like, how could he be such a criminal? Being a pirate is a death sentence if you get caught, you won’t even get a trial? Why would this man choose this path of life?
“What did you expect?” Jisung asked in an amused tone as he practically carried you up the rope to his ship, placing you down on the edge of the ships railing, letting you sit there as he climbed on the other side and then carried you bridal style over to the deck where he sat you down carefully.
“I thought you-“
“Were a man of honour and prosperity? Ma’am you’ve come to the wrong place if you’re looking for a hero or a good man” he stated as he fumbled up a key that was hooked on a piece of string around his neck underneath his shirt. He then unlocked the giant trap door leading to the inside of the ship. You both climb down there, you were met by the stench of rum and seawater which made you make a slight grimace.
“We should have some women’s clothing down here from when we raided this noble family all the way in Busan. Like fuck you should have seen those dumb posh faces when-“ he stopped himself, realising that you may take offence by his harsh words about the upper class since he now knew you were upper class as well. “Sorry..”
“No offence taken. To be quite frank, there is a reason I left that place, no money in the world could make me feel happy in that hell. I may have lived in a mansion but that mansion was a jail impossible to break out of in my eyes” you say, sighing deeply as you start to look around through bits and bobs that was scattered around the room. “To be honest I’m envying you. You’re free, away from responsibilities, marriage, birthing children, preferably sons and don’t even get me started on the dreadful gatherings, all the noble ladies wanted to speak about was money of men. I’m tired of it..” you say, slowly turning to a desk with a bunch of documents and paper on it, on the top of a shelf that stood right above the desk was a picture in a frame of 8 young men next to the very ship they were in right now, you could easily pick out where Jisung were despite the low resolution of the picture, with his arm around one of the other guys with a huge smile on his mouth.
“That’s my crew, you see the one with the hat is our leader, or captain, Chan is his name. It started when him and I met all the way in Australia where we stole this glory out of some poor bastard who used it for the queens guards, we decorated it and then before we could leave Australia we met this poor bloke called Felix who joined us” Jisung explained, then pointing at a guy with long bright hair who was winking with one eye. “He already had a huge penny on his head at home after his father found out he was a homosexual, we took him in, we don’t give a fuck who he sticks his dick inside, he is our brother nonetheless” he stated.
“That’s very beautiful if you ask me. You claim to be a bad person but a bad person wouldn’t do that” you explained slowly, looking at him, realising he stood right behind you, with his head almost hanging over your shoulder so that he also could view the old frame, you slowly chew on the inside of your cheek… he really was handsome for a pirate… Han clear his throat before he continues, slowly feeling a bit unease by her words, why would a lady like her truly find him, a criminal, that good?
“Well we figured as we were going to be pirates we already would have a straight way to the gallons if caught, adding hiding a gay man on the list didn’t seem too bad” Jisung stated, looking at you for a few seconds before his eyes quickly turn to the picture again.
“And that’s Seungmin and Jeongin, we met them finally enough at that raid in Busan, they joined us quickly, they’re young but extremely fun and always tells the best stories when we are up late at night around a campfire” he explains with a slight smile. “Oh and that’s Changbin, Hyunjin and Minho. Minho is second captain after Chan, he is also the head cook, probably the only one of us that can actually cook well. Changbin is also the fastest at climbing ropes you’ll ever see! I swear we have accused him of being a witch at least fourteen times!” He explained, smiling at himself as he thought of his dear friends. “And a little secret, we are fairly sure that Felix has had sex with Hyunjin before, we don’t know when but there is something with the way they act…However, whenever we try to get some information out of them they bulge, what a dumb bunch for thinking we’d judge them” he explained and laughed. “They’re all dumb but… they’re the only family I have left”
“Where are they now then?” You ask, realising you hadn’t even seen a trace of any of the said men since you entered the ship.
“Oh they’re in town, probably getting fucked up with all the alcohol, that was my plan too until… yeah” Jisung admitted. “I’m sorry for ruining your plans, Jisung” you sigh as you quickly turn around, face as close as it could be without touching from each other, his eyes looking almost black in front of you due to the lack of light in there… your heart racing faster and faster, he was dangerously close to you, with one hand resting on the shelf behind you, trapping you between the desk and his body…
“Trust me�� I’m glad I had my plans changed, otherwise I wouldn’t have had the pleasure of meeting you” Jisung whisper, you can feel his breath against your skin, keeping you eyes at him you slowly placed one hand on his chest that was slightly exposed due to the buttons he had unbuttoned. You swore you could see a slight smirk on his lips perk up. You could feel his hand that wasn’t against the shelf behind you travel to your lower back in a firm get gentle grip.
Before you could even think of what you were doing, you kissed him. You didn’t know what went through your head fuck you liked it. You could taste the beer you had previously had in your mouth as the kiss progressed, deepening and becoming more rough as you became familiar with each other. He hadn’t even questioned it as he had kissed you back the moment your lips met his.
The kiss was hot, breathy, yet you felt more relaxed with this man than you had ever done with a man at home. You felt how his hand that was on the shelf met your hip on the opposite side as the other before he easily lift up up and placed your ass on the table behind you. Then for a moment he broke the kiss before his mouth traveled along your mouth down to your neck and collarbone. You let a moan slip through your lips, the only sound echoing through the walls was the sounds of your heavy breaths along with whatever sound the sea could make from the shore.
His mouth leads its way back to yours, unable to stay away from it for too long. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth for you. When you feel his tongue meet yours, blistering electricity shocks down your spine in pure lust. You kiss him harder, his tongue mapping out every inch of yours as if he is in search of the lost treasure in there. He pulls your legs apart so he can stand right between them, feeling his body pressed against yours. You let his hands roam your body, then as he grabs some of the poor material that still held your chest in decent coverage and you hear a loud skrratch. That fucker tore it! As if it was barely anything to tore anyways… his hands cupped your breasts, breathing heavy into your mouth. His hands was fucking cold, but oh it felt so good. He then stop kissing you for a moment, looking into your eyes as both tried to desperately catch your breaths. The tension was electrifying.
“Can I fuck you?” He ask out of the blue after a few seconds of being silence.
As the words left his mouth it took you by a surprise, asking that question when your tits was already free for him when you had willingly had him like this. Almost a comedic moment and a rather funny timing on his part. Instead of answering you grabbed his shirt, giving him a wet kiss on the mouth. He took that sentence as a yes.
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊
You had never met a pirate before, let alone fucked one. But there you were. He had somehow managed to move you from the desk to the floor. His shirt tossed somewhere along the way along with his trousers. Your upper part of the dress torn a long time ago but your long skirt still intact, him? He was under your skirt between your legs, licking long stripes on your pussy, holding his strong hands around your thighs, partly for keeping you from closing them around him, partly because himself needed something to hold on to.
Your moans echoed through the room, your legs trembling as you covered your upper part of the face with your hand, moaning louder. His mouth doing wonders down there as you were slowly feeling like you’ll reach your peak any moment now.
“I’m gonna cum, Jisung” you breathe out, heavy breaths making it almost impossible for you to say a full sentence.
“Then cum for me, darling” he growled from under your skirt, a loud slap echoed as you felt his hand slap ass. That slap was almost like the last thing you needed, you felt the knotting feeling in your lower stomach build up to the point where it overflow. You let out a breath of pleasure as you came, breathing heavy as you tried to catch your breath. You felt how Jisung kept licking up every single drop of you, feeling your legs turn into jelly as you tried to catch your high along with handling the overstimulation happening.
That’s when you heard it…
“Why is it unlocked?”
“I don’t know”
Then you heard a click, they’re loading their revolver…
Jisung knew that voice extremely well, so the panic arose even faster. He quickly got out of your skirt, his lips glossy from your fluids. “Fuck fuck fuck” he whispered, trying to gather his clothes.
“Guys it’s just me” he yelled, hoping if they were faster than him it would lead to at least them not being shot. That’s when he also tossed one of the dresses he promised you your way, quickly trying to put on his trousers. You act fast as well, doing everything in your power to get the damn dress on and you threw the old dress into a pile of hay in the corner. If you had more time to think perhaps it would be more melodramatic, throwing away the last piece of your old life as if it was nothing. But now? You had no time to think.
You signalled to the halfway dressed man to help you with the zipper in the back. Jisung went right into action, rushing over to you, managing with a trembling hand to get the zipper up right in time for…
“Who’s that?” A voice Said, you remembered him from the picture, that’s Chan, the captain.
“Oh!” Jisung said, clearing his throat, quickly wiping his mouth from whatever excess that was left from you. “This is Miss Y/N. I.. I- uh-“ Jisung said in panic, not sure how to explain to his captain what the fuck he had been doing down here. “I-I was lending her one of our dresses, it’s not like we use them right? I accidentally ruined hers by dropping beer on it” he lies, giving the captain a half sided smile. “But now as you can see she is in the dress so I’ll just go ahead and help her off the ship, thanks” he said and practically pushed you up the ladder to the deck of the ship, leaving the confused captain to wonder what the hell he just witnessed.
“D-Do I really have to go?” You ask slowly, looking at him under the moonlight, a light breeze making his hair blow in the wind… you felt a lump in your stomach again, not like last time, this time you knew… you didn’t wanna leave him.
“W-Well we sail at dawn and perhaps you should find a new place to stay and-“
“Can’t I stay with you?”
“Y/N… I can’t ask that of you? You’ll become a criminal, a whore in the eye of law?” He say, his eyes giving such soft look yet so much pain behind them at the idea of you perhaps leaving for good… you slowly walk up to him, placing one hand on his cheek, making him look at you… he had shown you more humanity, more freedom and lust within these few hours you’d known him than anyone else… you knew you had to stay here…
“I rather be your whore than a noble man’s wife” you whisper, looking into his eyes, seeing how the pain in his eyes flood away and replace with happiness as he grabs your waist, lifts you up and spin you two around, letting out a loud laugh of happiness. You let out a screech and held onto his shoulders tightly as he spun you in case he would drop you, not that he ever would… As he sit you down again he remove his hands form your waits and cups your cheeks like you cupped his a moment ago, placing a couple chaste kisses on your mouth.
“Oh this is” kiss “going to be” kiss kiss “fucking great!” Kiss kiss kiss “I’ll show you the world, I’ll show you what real freedom is”
You couldn’t answer before you heard a voice. You look over at the trapdoor where Chans head stuck out, he held up the dress from the haystack between two fingers.
“Uh, guys? I thought you said it had beer on it, not that you ripped it apart..”
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
#fanfic#imagines#writing#stray kids x reader#stray kids#han jisung#han jisung x reader#stray kids smut#Han Jisung smut#pirate au#melioraskz
776 notes
·
View notes
Text
hands on you
pairing: miguel o'hara xf!reader
warnings: perv!miguel, miguel being extra handsy, smut, groping (consensual), established relationship, teasing, pda, public teasing, alcoholic beverages?
summary: miguel can't take his hands off of you in the club
Miguel knew you liked him being overly affectionate in public, just to show everyone how deeply in love with him you are. So deeply, that you couldn't gather one single fuck to give about what others thought.
Sure, there were lines neither of you would ever cross. But there was something so delicious about taking risks that had you more intoxicated than 5 mojitos.
This is why you now find yourself rummaging through your closet, looking for something downright obscene. Something so inviting that would make it hard for Miguel to keep his hands to himself for the whole night.
The two of you had arranged to go clubbing for the first time in what felt like a century. Since both of you preferred 1 on 1 alone time, it was a rarity that one would voice the desire to break out of the usual, intimate, comforting routine.
But this time, you want something filthy. Not soft or private. Something that would bring him to the very brink of despair for being so close, yet so far from it.
"¿Estas lista?" (Are you ready?) You hear the bathroom door open as Miguel steps out into the doorway, a towel around his hips and another in his hands as he aggressively attempts to partially dry his dripping wet hair.
You almost start drooling looking at him in the closet door mirror. This is gonna be fun.
"I'm still thinking." You replied, absentmindedly. Oh how you wish you could just ditch the plans, forget about going out and spend the rest of the evening on his dick. To just give him a familiar shove and watch him lay down on the soft bed, hands roaming your body as you climbed on top of him-
No. You have to stick with the plan. Just for once.
As he blow-dries his hair, you snatch the top and skirt you picked and run downstairs, not wanting him to see you before you get to your destination.
But how you wish you could stay in the bedroom and watch his back muscles flex as he pulls that black shirt over his head, how he looks in the mirror as he fixes his hair. His mere presence made you wet.
You snap out of your reverie, swiftly changing and covering yourself with a nice beige coat. Just as you were done with the last touches in the hallway mirror, Miguel stepped down the stairs.
The black shirt slightly stretches over his muscles, giving you a clear view of his pecs and the outlines of his hard abs. He's sporting beige pants, and you wonder just for a second how obvious a boner would be underneath the thin, creamy material.
The drive to the club is flooded with knowing looks and flirty comments, which again make it hard for you not to abandon ship and fuck him in the driver's seat, pulled over on a nice, dark alley.
"I know what you're doing."
"What?" You inquire, faking innocent shock.
He gestures towards your coat, his eyes darting from yours to the clothing item and back to the road.
"I just want to surprise you." You defend yourself, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, brushing a few hair strands behind his ear. You lean into him, placing a tender kiss on his cheek.
You arrive at the club, discarding the coat to leave it in the car. He almost forgets to lock the doors the moment he sees you. Plushy breasts pushed together and nearly spilling out of a skin tight top, ass peeking out from underneath a skirt too short.
"Carajo." (Fuck.) He rasps, before sprinting over to you, wanting to shield you from wandering eyes. Any doubts that it might've been too much are washed away the second you're hit with the realisation that Miguel's hands are going to be on you for the whole night. Either protectively or for other reasons, you couldn't bring yourself to care that much.
As you walk in, you remain glued to him. body to body. Even as you dance, you move against him, soft tits squished on his chest, hands wandering over his shoulders and his neck.
His own hands are anchored on your waist, his fingers digging into your delicate skin.
Glazed over eyes, pretty mouth agape, lips painted in gloss; they're too much for him. He leans into your touch, kissing you messily. It's all tongue and hot puffs of heaved breaths, desperate and painfully needy.
Seizing the opportunity, you inhaled softly and slowly, feeling the scent of him, cologne mixed with his distinctive musk that has your brain melting into nothing but the thought of irrevocably being his.
Suddenly, a straying hand travels down your body, from the dip of your waist and over your hip, settling on the tender flesh of your ass, his fingertips skin to skin on you, thanks to the shortness of the flimsy skirt.
He pulls you against him, trapping you with the other hand splayed out on your back. You feel your heart rate pick up speed.
His one-day stubble scratches your silky cheeks, almost an invasion. Almost disrespectful to the extensive skin care routine you have and religiously stick to, but that's what you like most about it. No matter how much time you spend on yourself, he always ruins you. Your makeup, your clothes, covering your freshly-carefully-lotioned body in hickies and marks. Simply because you're his.
The palm on your ass squeezes and kneads over the feverish skin, the skirt hiking up in the process as he exposes your thin, lace thongs.
You moan in faux protest, looking up at him and breaking away from the suffocating kiss.
"¿Que pasó, muñeca?" (What happened, doll?). He continues to squeeze, the feeling of his big, rough hand rubbing the plumpness of your ass starts to pool raw need between your legs.
"You don't like me touching you like this?" He speaks into your ear, eyes half lidded and predatory. "Isn't that what you dressed up like this for, hm?"
The bastard.
You take one fraction of a second to look around, taking note that nobody was watching, apart from a few guys who either enjoy the show or are patiently waiting for Miguel to leave you alone for just a minute.
Not gonna happen.
"Dime." (Tell me.) He steals your attention, his embrace almost lifting you off the ground just to hold you whole against him.
You mouth 'Yes', knowing you can't trust your shaky voice to speak louder for him to hear over the music.
The dancing area is getting increasingly crowded as the night seeps deeper into the city, so you two move towards the bar. He sits on one of the chairs, patting his leg for you. You place yourself on his thigh as he manspreads to give you more space, curling a strong arm around your waist.
You feel the fabric of his beige pants come into contact with your panties, your skirt too short to cover your ass, let alone allow you to sit without having it slide up. You close your legs tightly, seeking a bit more privacy from the public eye.
Trying not to slip from your seat, you attempt to brace yourself on your palms; one hand on his knee, pushing your back into him, and one on-
Fuck.
Your other palm accidentally lands on his crotch, your fingers grazing his half hard cock. Before you can take your hand away and hide your flushed face, he grabs your wrist and keeps it there.
The bartender is making cocktails at the opposite end of the counter, so no one can see what's actually going on. He starts guiding your hand to rub him up and down, a content sigh leaving him. You could swear your own face is very telling by now.
You cup him through the material, feeling the familiar girth of his cock fatten at your attention. He's getting warmer, and so are you.
Before he can start drifting into pleasure, the bartender runs to him, waiting for the order. Miguel asks for a beer, frustrated at the loss of contact, your hands now on the marble counter.
More people gather around the bar, and as his request gets temporarily forgotten amidst the others, he relishes in the re-obtained semi privacy.
"¿Estás bien, muñequita?" He asks, a hint of concern plastered on his face at the sight of your flushed face.
"Don't worry. I'll tell you if I'm uncomfortable." You reassure, feeling bolder.
He smirks, looking around, checking. He feels like a horny teen-ager who has no other choice but to try to explore and test the waters in public. But in reality, he knew exactly what he was doing.
He turns to you, placing a kiss dangerously close to the top of your right breast, teasing. Before you can look down through your hazy vision, he glides a warm palm between your legs, past your skirt, two fingers fitting in the valley of your soft pussy.
You restrain yourself from gasping, instead seeking to hide your face in the crook of his neck. He moves his hand over the mound, flicking your clit through your panties. He can undoubtedly feel how wet you are as he so obscenely cups your cunt. You feel the heat of his palm on you, so comforting in such a filthy way; like that's where it belongs.
Looking down, you're met with the sight of his veined burly arm, muscles flexing as he plays with you, his wrist barely visible underneath your skirt. You clench around nothing, and his motions quicken with expert ease, a clear sign he felt you.
You're left infuriatingly needy for more when he retracts his hand as if nothing happened, the bartender bringing him his beer. You give him a pissed look, and he smiles as he brings the bottle to his mouth.
Smiling, like, what's wrong?
You move to threateningly leave from your seat on his lap, but he follows as expected. He can't lose sight of you.
Walking just a bit further into the crowd, you take his hand behind you. Swaying your hips and undulating your body to the music, you feel the beat through your veins, in your chest, in your head. He comes up behind you, his rhythm in sync with your movements.
Brushing your hair out of the way from behind, he slowly bends down to lick and kiss at the sensitive skin on the side of your neck, raising goosebumps over your skin. You don't know how much longer you'll stay here, seeing how clingy and needy Miguel has gotten.
You feel your pulse throbbing in your neck and through your lust-hazed mind at the stimulation.
"Feel how fast my heart's beating." You take his hand, placing it where your heart would be. He brings the beer bottle to his mouth, drinking nonchalantly as his palm instantly dips into your cleavage, cupping your left breast. You stiffen, once again surprised.
"Yeah." He confirms, as if he didn't just start groping you to feel your heartbeat. "Pretty fast."
He is well aware of how worked up you get simply because of this attitude. He leaves the bottle on a nearby glass table, now both his hands on your boobs, nearly taking them out of your top to play with them. He looks wrecked, absolutely drunk on need.
One of his arms soon curls around your waist and back, pulling you close into him, the other hand still fondling your chest. You arch your back, pushing yourself impossibly closer into his touch, seeking the warmth of his palm.
Wanting to drive him completely mad, you turn around, your back to him, and start grinding your plushy ass over his groin. He grips your hips, guiding you, not hesitating to let his hands wonder back to your tits, squeezing them under the elastic material of your shirt while you're rubbing yourself on his painful erection.
You can now see people staring, especially at the way he touches you. Arching backwards, you curl your arms around his neck, your chest pushed forward and so much more accessible. His palms are now hot on your soft breasts, craving more. Fondling with fervent need.
The music and the people are drowned out, muffled into the very back of your headspace. He leans down, his mouth to your ear.
"Let's get out of here."
divider by @cafekitsune
a/n: tried to make it as non problematic and as filthy as possible at the same time goddamn
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara x reader one shot#atsv miguel#miguel o hara#spiderman 2009#spider man 2099#spider verse#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel smut#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o’hara smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel x reader
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Feral Desires
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*
A/N; This feels like a crazy jump from my first smut I posted lmfao 🫡 it was also crazy writing this, I haven’t written omegaverse in forever despite it being a favorite
Summary; You’re on a mission for the First Order, well away from your alpha, which means it’s the perfect time for your heat to start out of nowhere.
Content; NSFW 18+, AFAB reader, omegaverse, omega reader, alpha Kylo Ren, mated to Kylo, heats, ruts, nesting, fingering, piv sex, knotting, biting/marking, scent marking, breeding kink, A LOT of breeding kink, protective and possessive Kylo, also very loving Kylo, tiny bit of size difference kink, conservative views on omegas (mostly pertaining to suppressants), omegaverse terms (kids referred to as pups), fluff
Wc; 6.4k
☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*
You thought it would be fine.
It should’ve been fine.
This wasn’t supposed to happen, gods, this was not supposed to happen.
Your heat was not supposed to start a month early right when you leave on a mission.
Everything had seemed okay at first; you gathered your troops after getting your assignment—investigate an uninhabited jungle planet’s surface and find out what the First Order could gleam from it. You had bid farewell to Kylo Ren, the Supreme Leader and also your mate. Through your bond both in the Force and in the bite mark on your neck, you could tell how apprehensive he was to let you go. It had taken some convincing, but he’d allowed it. If he wasn’t swamped in a million other responsibilities that come with his new position, he would’ve joined you.
The trip to the planet had gone without a hitch, and everything had seemed like it was in perfect order. You were the first to step foot on the surface once your ships’ doors had opened with a hiss of depressurized air. It was quite beautiful when you took it all in; covered in lush vegetation and impossibly tall trees covered in moss, a few of which your ships had unfortunately crushed on their way down. Sensors indicated that the air was nontoxic and clean so you had gladly taken a deep breath. Smells came stronger to you with your aberrant status, meaning you could practically taste the planet on your tongue. It was damp and full of the smell of wet leaves and bark, along with the reek of wild animals you didn’t know the names of. Said animals were calling through the trees in chirps and barks. It was quite nice.
Stormtroopers fanned out, beginning to take notes of anything that seemed of importance or interest. You and your lieutenant, a beta named Mallory who’d been by your side for many years, were in charge of placing down beacons and sensors that would give you every piece of data you’d need. It’d tell you what’s beneath the planets surface like ores and minerals and what kind of regeneration systems it had. It’d be a slow process; taking scans of an entire, huge planets surface wasn’t the easiest thing in the world. That’s why you were given a weeks timeline for this mission. Easy enough.
Until you’d gotten a prickling on the back of your neck, until an odd amount of sweat started to build at your collar, until you could barely hold on to your data pad because of how slippery your palms had become. You’d tried to ignore it, tried to ignore those telltale signs because surely your heat wouldn’t be starting now? Surely it wouldn’t have been catapulted forward a month because your body got confused by you leaving your alpha and was doing what it needed to in order to bring him back?
“General? Are you alright?” Mallory asks you.
You realize you’d been standing there looking at your data pad like an idiot while warmth and sweat builds beneath your uniform. You look up and try to blink the haze out of your vision. Suddenly all those smells from before are so overwhelming. “I think I need to go back to the ship.” You mutter. You’re not stupid, you do realize it’d be irresponsible to try and ignore this. Hell, you can’t even get yourself to take a step forward when all you want to do is go back to your ship where the scents are familiar.
Mallory tenses, noticing the flush in your face and the way your demeanor is so off. She may be a beta but she’s still able to recognize the onset of a heat, especially yours after being your lieutenant for so long. That’s why she goes with you everywhere, to keep an eye on you. She’s perfect for times like these. “Okay. Let’s go, quickly.” She says, a gentle hand on your arm guiding you back the way you came.
She says commands through a radio while you walk, instructing the next in charge—a fresh-face captain—to continue the observations so they can at least get something out of this. You feel guilt pierce through your roiling stomach, cursing yourself over and over for not being able to see a very simple mission to completion. It’s embarrassing. It makes you wish you were able to take your damn suppressants again.
You haven’t taken them for about three years, ever since you became mated to Kylo. As soon as that happened, all of your suppressants were tossed and every medic on the Steadfast was strictly forbidden to give you any. If any were discovered, you knew exactly what price they’d have to pay. Before all that, you’d taken them regularly to give you some peace aboard the ship and keep your position as general safe. People were more willing to trust you with things if your omega status was… muted. It was easier to ignore.
The only reason you really got to keep your job was because you were damn good at it and you kept being an omega from getting in the way, so nobody cared. It was simple. Then Kylo came along, discovered you were Force sensitive, began to train you, and you fell for him hard. You ended up becoming his mate, his teeth laying claim to the skin where your neck meets your shoulder, right where your scent gland starts. He bears a similar mark from your own teeth. He was gracious enough to let you remain as a general, even if every primal instinct he has tells him to keep you away from your job because it’s dangerous. All because he knew how upset it’d make you if he took it away, and because you’re actually competent.
However, it puts you in situations like this where you’re trying to fight off an oncoming heat while you’re on an unknown planet in an unknown space and your alpha is a galaxy away from you. You’ve learned that your status as an omega comes before your position as a general.
Mallory gets you back on to your ship that’s specifically assigned to only you two for your own safety. Never before have you been so grateful for that. She heads towards the cockpit immediately, taking her seat in the pilots chair and flipping switches. You slink towards the back of the ship, craving an enclosed space and cold air. Your heat hasn’t hit you full force yet, but you know it’s a matter of hours. You know it’s a matter of hours until your brain is pure incomprehensible mush, until your body is on fire, and until there’s a need inside so deep that it consumes your entire being and only one man can satisfy it.
It always starts out slow, with everything feeling just a bit too sensitive and your temperature rising. Then you feel it in every gland you have, a slight throb to them as your scent changes and pheromone production skyrockets. You get sweaty and those stiff uniforms the First Order requires feel like they’re boiling you alive—hence why you’re removing your jacket now. Next is the nesting, creating your own little safe space where nothing can hurt you and it’s only for you and your alpha.
It’s extremely difficult in a sterile, empty ship. You can feel your omega start to panic as it realizes there’s nothing to nest with besides your own jacket and a thin, scratchy blanket from an emergency kit in the ship. Nothing with Kylo’s scent, nothing to keep your alpha close, nothing safe, it’s not safe, oh gods-
You whine low and sad in the back of your throat as you hopelessly try and try and try to rearrange your two items into something satisfactory in your little corner. It doesn’t work of course. It only serves to send you into more of a frenzy, wishing for anything else, wishing you were back on the Steadfast, back in you and Kylo’s shared rooms where you could make as big a nest as you want with his full closet at your disposal. Comfy sheets, pillows, big capes covered in his scent… thinking about it is not helping.
The ship rumbles to life beneath you and you can feel its vibrations from how your body is pressed against the floor. The cold metal helps to keep the fever raging through you at bay. You’re curled in on yourself, your hands at your neck massaging your aching glands and the bite mark that resides there. It does little to soothe your pain but it’s all you have. You faintly hear Mallory talking, though it’s drowned out by the buzzing in your head. Until a familiar, deep voice crackles through the ships comms and has you sitting up immediately, your attention laser-focused.
“I want her back on the Steadfast immediately.” Kylo says. He sounds angry, livid perhaps. It’s enough to make you feel the need to submit despite the fact he’s not even mad at you. Hearing him does something to your bond akin to reigniting it across the distance between the two of you. It gives you the smallest bit of a connection to cling on to and you wrap yourself in it, enjoying it while it lasts. You can feel his emotions, his need for you like you need him. He’s angry he isn’t there, that he can’t provide for his omega like a good alpha should. He’s irrationally scared too—scared that something might happen to you, that some other alpha might try to get to you. He’s like a ticking time bomb, ready to go off on anyone he deems fit.
“Yes, sir, I understand.” Mallory says. She looks over at one of the monitors, pressing a few controls on the screen. “Based on what fuel remains and if I avoid active fuel preservation, it should take about five standard hours to reach your coordinates.”
Five hours. By the time you reach the Steadfast, you’ll be well intro the throes of your heat, accelerated by the fact Kylo isn’t there to help you. You haven’t had a heat without your mate for a long time and your body is not happy about it. A wave of depression and anxiety washes over you, your fingers digging into the blanket and threatening to rip it.
Kylo can sense that, sense how panicked and upset you are and it only makes his rage grow. He knows he can’t do anything about the length of your return trip and it makes him feel useless, like a sorry excuse of an alpha. You almost feel bad for the staff back on the Steadfast. “If anything happens to her, I’ll have your fucking neck.” He snaps, voice crackling through the comms.
Mallory takes the threat with neutrality. It’s nothing new to her. “Yes, sir. You have my word that I’ll keep her safe.”
Kylo calls your name suddenly and it has you stumbling to your feet and towards the radio. You grasp at the back of Mallory’s chair to keep you stable. “Alpha?” You ask, voice unable to hide your desperation.
“I’m sorry this happened. It’ll be better soon.” Kylo promises, his tone softening just a bit when he talks with you. “Be good in the meantime.”
You nod even though he can’t see it. “I will, alpha.” You’d do anything he asks.
With that, the radio clicks off and he’s gone. It felt like the only support keeping you upright was just ripped away from you, his presence in your bond fleeing and leaving you with nothing. It made your chest constrict and heat lick down your back, everything seeming to spin. Mallory rises from her chair after putting the ship on autopilot. “Go lay back down. I don’t want you to collapse.” She says. “And take these.” She hands you two bottles of water that were brought along in case of emergencies. You’re going to need them more than anything with how much fluid you lose during your heat. You down one of the bottles immediately.
You obediently take the other back to your “nest”, spending another ten minutes trying to rearrange your blanket and jacket. You eventually just give up and flop down with your knees tucked up to your chest, trying to ignore the ache across the entirety of your body. Your thoughts are still coherent at least, though you can feel them steadily slipping away. Your omega just wants Kylo, wants him more than anything. Wants his scent, his strong arms, his lips on your gland, his knot.
There it is. You whimper, your nails digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood as you feel the first trickle of slick seep into your underwear. Your breath comes out in pants that fog the metal paneling under you, your face feeling like it’s on fire. You writhe on your blanket, distracting yourself with movement and trying to find any kind of position that provides relief. Squeezing your legs together helps a little, putting some pressure on your clit and releasing more slick. You know this pair of underwear is going to be unsalvageable by the time this is over.
You can feel the slick start to stain your pants, creating a wet spot that’ll keep spreading. The ache has moved lower, now settling in your stomach and making you nauseous. Its comes in waves of cramps and hot flashes and gushing slick, creating a combination that feels like actual hell. You know that that’s how it’ll stay with the intensity increasing as the hours pass without your alpha inside you. You wish so badly you could just sleep the time away, close your eyes and open them again to Kylo there to take care of you. But you don’t feel safe enough to fall asleep. Your nest is shit, the ship is too unfamiliar, and you’re right at the beginning of your heat when you’re most vulnerable without your alpha who’s supposed to protect you.
These next five hours are about to be the longest of your life.
» ☆ «
Time passes in a haze.
A haze full of desperation, need, fire raging in your blood, and slick coating your thighs. Your vision is blurred, like a film was put over your eyes. You try to focus on the feeling of the ship underneath you instead of… anything else. The state of being in heat is all you know now, you don’t even remember what it’s like to not be making a drooling mess of yourself over the thought of your alpha’s cock sinking into your aching cunt.
Mallory has been trying to ignore you the whole time for her own sanity; your whines, moans, panting, and the desperate whispers of Kylo’s name passing between your lips. She’s stayed well away in the safety of the cockpit, focusing on just getting you both back to the Steadfast. Even though she’s a beta and has no specific inclinations, she can still feel the headiness in the air, sticking to the back of her neck and making her skin prickle. This isn’t anything particularly new to her, she’s been by your side for years. She knows what it means to be an omega.
That’s why she’s glad when a final jump through lightspeed sends her sensors beeping and the massive hulk that is the Steadfast appears at the top of the viewport. She keeps her hands from shaking by gripping the controls of the ship, guiding it towards home base. She has no reason to be afraid really, Kylo Ren wouldn’t do anything to her without reason after she’s proved to be so faithful, and he’ll be too focused on you anyway. Still, she can’t help the little kernel of fear in her chest as your ship is latched onto by a gravitational beam and power is taken out of her control.
All of the commotion breaks you from your stupor. You prop yourself up weakly on your elbows, your jacket and blanket soaked in slick in a heap under you from all your twisting and turning. Your face is flushed like the rest of your body, your remaining clothes stuck to your skin because of the sweat. From your place on the floor you can just barely see through the viewport, watching as the ship pulls into one of the hangars. You can sense him now. He’s so close. It’s too bad your legs are too weak to support you, otherwise you’d use them to run out of the ship to greet him.
You feel the ship shake as it settles on the ground and you hear the sounds of it powering down. Mallory rises from her chair to get to the ramp controls, a hiss of depressurized air sounding as it lowers. She steps aside and bows her head as he enters. Finally.
Kylo instantly commands the entire space around him as soon as he comes aboard the ship. It’s like everything else around him fades away because nothing else matters. His black robes do a perfect job of outlining the muscles beneath them, his fractured helmet covering his face and making him look akin to death itself. He locks onto you, you can feel it, and instantly there’s a whine coming out of your throat. Your mate is here, your alpha is here after you had to wait for so long. Your excitement is like a buzzing that encompasses your mind to the point you can’t think about anything else.
And then his scent hits you. It’s musky and heavy, amplified by his rut that was triggered by his omega’s heat. He smells like a campfire in fall, smoky and laced with something like cinnamon. When you inhale it, it’s easy to imagine being in the forests of his home planet with a nice fire to keep you warm. There’s undertones of your own scent mixed in from your mating, creating a nice combination of the two to let anyone know that you belong to one another. His scent instantly becomes the only thing you know and starts your heat all over again, fresh waves of slick pouring from your cunt and cramps seizing your stomach.
Kylo smells it, it slams into him like a freight ship, sending him reeling. He resists every feral instinct in him telling him to pounce on you right then, to pin you down and fuck your heat away, to finally take care of the constant bulge in his pants, knowing that he needs to get you somewhere safe first. Somewhere other alphas won’t be tempted by you, even if you’re mated. His scent on you sometimes isn’t enough to deter the most depraved; his hands clench into fists at the thought, the leather of his gloves creaking.
“Alpha… please..” you whimper, reaching your arms out towards him, needing so badly just to feel him, to touch him. You can barely think straight, the only thing in your head being him, him, him. He can’t deny you anything. The metal panels beneath his boots thunder with the power of his steps, it makes you quiver. Alpha is so strong, so capable.
“I know. I’m here now.” He says as he scoops you easily into his arms, voice crackling through the modifier in his helmet. It sends pleasant shivers down your spine. You can hear how ragged his breathing is, can feel it when his chest is pressed against your cheek. You cling to his padded tunic, the material familiar and comforting beneath your fingers. You become surrounded by his scent and it brings some relief to the pain you’ve been feeling, putting your omega at ease with your alpha finally with you.
You shrink yourself as much as possible in his hold as he walks down the ramp of the ship, your face buried against his arm. There’s a spike of anxiety in your chest once the bright lights and all the different smells of the Steadfast reach you; the sharp metal tang, the hints of sterile cleaning products, and then the sweat and musk of every aberrant in that hangar. It’s overwhelming when you’re fresh into your heat, but Kylo is quick to soothe you. His body produces more of his own scent to mask everything else, pheromones changing ever so slightly to have a more calming effect on you. He’s still not entirely used to the way everything about him is so tailored to you and only you even after all this time, but he loves the pride he feels when he successfully gets you to relax.
All of the workers within the hangar stay well away from Kylo. Nobody is stupid enough to approach the Supreme Leader and his mate with the state you’re in. It would only end up getting their heads detached from their shoulders. He’s given a wide berth while walking through the halls of the ship, taking whatever shortcuts he can to reach your shared rooms faster. Everything feels so hot, your breath coming out in pants and your clothes so unbearable because of the way they’ve been drenched in your fluids. You’re whimpering in his arms, sounding so sad and pathetic as your fingers knead into his chest. “I know,” he says again, softer this time, “I’ll make it better.”
There’s the beep of a control panel as Kylo gets the hydraulic doors to your rooms open, bringing you inside and letting them bang shut behind him. You’re greeted with fresh, cold air against your burning skin and comforting familiarity—your safe space. Kylo goes to set you down and you nearly wail at the thought of losing contact, not able to bear it after being without him for too long. “Just one second, I promise.” He tells you, laying a large hand against your cheek, the leather warm from the heat of his palms. You listen to your alpha like the good omega you are, standing there squeezing your legs together while he removes his helmet. His beauty always manages to enrapture you. His sharp features and pale skin dotted with freckles, the black waves of his hair that fall around his face. There’s a slight flush to his cheeks, his pupils blown wide with desire. He carelessly puts his helmet aside.
Then he’s on you. His lips press against yours, hot and needy and wet, his hands coming up to grasp each side of your face. You can’t help but moan into his mouth, your arousal spiking even higher from the urgency in his kiss. You’re surprised you can even produce more slick with how much you’re already covered in but you feel another wave of it drip down your thighs anyway. His tongue licks against your teeth, exploring your mouth that you’ve willingly opened for him.
His hands are heavy weights on your hips. He moves them down to cup your ass, then lifting you easily so your legs are wrapped around his middle. His raging erection presses slightly against your aching cunt and you gasp sharply as a shiver shoots up your spine, causing you to break from your kiss. You can’t help but try to grind down on it, creating a wet spot on his pants from your slick. He groans against you, trying not to drop you from the stimulation.
He’s quick to bring you into the bedroom, kissing you with more fervor. You manage a glance backwards and see just what Kylo’s done to your shared bed. You both barely make it to the haphazard nest he’d made for you in his own desperation, his mind wanting to protect a mate that wasn’t even there and driving himself insane over it. It’s full of dark blankets, pillows, and just about every article of clothing from his closet—soft tunics, capes, undershirts—piled onto the bed so it’s positively drenched in his scent. It’s absolutely heavenly as you fall back into it, surrounded entirely by your alpha. Kylo follows after you, shedding his clothes as he goes and merely adding them onto the nest, the scent of them fresh and potent.
“All for you,” he breathes against you, sticking his face into the crook of your neck, “everything is for you.” He inhales against your gland, tongue darting out to lick sensually at it. You squirm beneath him, moaning openly as your swollen, red gland is finally given attention. His bare hands slip beneath your white tank, pulling it up and over your body, the cold air making your nipples perk up instantly. Your pants and underwear are next to come off and you squeak when your slick becomes chilly against your skin.
“Fuck,” Kylo groans, “smell so good.”
“Alpha,” you whine, wrapping your arms across his wide shoulders to bring him closer, “alpha please…”
The ache and pain you feel is starting to become too much. You need him, you need him to fuck you, to pump you full of his cum and plug you up with his knot. Just the thought of it is enough to make your legs quiver and for your cunt to flutter. He knows exactly what you’re thinking of and he feels the need in himself just as much. He needs to take care of his omega, to make sure you won’t want for anything, and guarantee that you become swollen with his pups. A growl rumbles in his chest, his cock jumping at the idea.
His hand that was on your hip moves lower and he doesn’t hesitate to sink two fingers into your heat. They meet no resistance, sliding in and out with complete ease from the way your body has been preparing yourself for this for the last five hours. You throw your head back, mouth falling open at the relief you feel from finally having something fill you, cunt clenching in appreciation. The sounds your body makes are disgusting, copious amounts of slick being sloshed around by Kylo’s fingers. It’s wet and depraved and nasty and you’re enjoying every moment of it. He uses his thumb against your clit, rubbing back and forth and nearly making you scream. That combined with his mouth altering between the glands on either side of your neck makes it very easy for you to cum. Your body seizes, muscles constricting as pleasure wracks your body.
You can feel part of that fire within you finally die down, but it’s still not enough. There’s still an ache nestled deep inside you that his fingers can’t help with. “Please! Alpha, please, more..” you cry, grabbing at his arm to try and pull him up, to make him give you what you want so badly. You need his cock, the thing red and begging for attention, standing tall against his abdomen and dribbling precum.
His fingers withdraw from the warmth of your cunt and it makes you wince and whimper at the loss, your legs immediately trying to close and rub together in an attempt to get some friction. “What a desperate thing you are.” Kylo mutters, bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth and running his tongue along them to gather your slick. You’ve seen him do this countless times but it still has your face blushing furiously. He hums his delight. “Delicious, as always.”
He gets his hand under your back, scooping you up and flipping you onto your stomach. He tugs you towards him harshly, repositioning you like a doll so your ass is in the air, your face pressed against the materials of the nest. Kylo’s scent overwhelms your nostrils, heady and aroused. A mixture of slick and cum oozes from you, dripping down the lips of your cunt and your clit and onto the bed below. You wiggle your lower half, trying to entice him. “Please… need you..” you say, voice muffled by the pillow you’re currently hiding your face in.
Kylo’s hands run from your breasts, down your sides, and settle on your hips, the rough texture of his callouses making you shiver. “My beautiful mate.” He whispers, enthralled by your body as his eyes trace over it. The head of his cock prods at your entrance and you suck in your breath. You nearly sob as he sinks to the hilt inside your cunt not even a second after, your nails digging into the blankets below you from how full you feel. Kylo stretches you to your limit, getting so deep into you it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. He sighs in relief, his massive body bending over yours so his forehead rests against your shoulder. His chest is so warm against your back, his big muscled arms braced on either side of you. You’re basically caged in and pinned down, completely at his mercy. You couldn’t be happier. Your omega keens at the attention, at your alpha displaying his complete dominance over you.
His first thrust is bliss—sliding out of you almost entirely before slamming back in, his pelvis pressed sharply against your ass. He does it again, and again, getting steadily faster with each one until he’s built up a steady rhythm that has your entire being shaking with the power of it beneath him. Your mouth hangs open, drool falling from your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head. His grunts and groans and rumbles fill your ears, your own moans rising to meet them. He presses his lips against the gland that bears your bite mark, breathing you in again and moaning. “My mate, my mate,” he says reverently along your skin, “fuck- m’gonna fill you so good. You’ll give me pups, won’t you? You’ll make me a strong heir.”
“Yes! Yes, anything!” You wail. To your heat addled mind, nothing sounds better. Nothing sounds better than him filling you so full of his cum that there’s no way you don’t get pregnant. You want him so deep that he gets directly to your womb. You want to satisfy your alpha, you want to show him how obedient you are. Yes, you’ll do whatever he wants.
“My good girl.” Kylo praises, sucking your gland into his mouth and making you scream from the pleasure. It’s so shockingly intimate, warmth blooming in your chest and spreading along your body. He’s always been obsessed with your glands, even before you were mated. Your scent brings him so much comfort, such a feeling of home that he can’t stay away. He has his nose buried in the crook of your neck whenever he can and he it turns him on when he’s able to get his tongue on them. Your scent sticks to the roof of his mouth, it becomes the only thing he knows, the only thing he can taste. He fucking loves it.
“So good, sweetheart.” He gasps, sweat dripping from the ends of his hair. He watches where his cock disappears into your cunt, entranced. “Needed to fuck you so bad..”
If your brain wasn’t pure mush right now, you’d agree with him. But you can’t think with the way his cock is splitting you open, each thrust piercing your cunt and hitting that spot right at the top that seems impossible to reach without him. It makes it feel like lightning is igniting your blood, your vision flashing white. You didn’t realize how hard you were gripping the blankets until his large hand perfectly eclipses yours, his fingers slipping between your own so you hold on to him instead.
You hear his growl by your ear as his thrusts become more erratic, knowing he’s getting close. His free hand reaches under you to your clit, fingers playing with it roughly. He’s going to make sure you go along with him. You jerk from the added stimulation bordering on overstimulation from the constant pounding of his cock and the sensitivity from you already cumming once. Your moans get louder and louder, punctuated by each thrust he gives you, breaking in the middle and becoming more high pitched than usual. Your breath is pushed from your lungs, the pillow beneath you is soaked in drool.
“Mmn, shit-“ Kylo groans. He sounds drunk when he talks, his words slurred by his rut and pleasure. “Gonna give you pups. M’gonna knot you, you’ll be so good. My perfect mate.”
Yes, yes that sounds like everything you could ever want. “Please, please! Please alpha I need you-“ you beg, finally finding some semblance of your voice. “I need your knot!”
Kylo grunts his acknowledgment, his thrusts picking up the pace as he teeters on the edge. Then you feel it. Swelling begins at the base of his cock, steadily getting bigger. His movements are forced to slow along with it, becoming more and more restricted as his knot grows. Just as you feel like he’s stretched you to the brink, he lowers his head and sinks his teeth into your bonding mark. You scream. You scream so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if someone walking by outside your rooms heard you. Your vision is pure white, you feel like you can’t breathe, and you feel such a deep connection to Kylo in that moment that it pushes you over the edge. You cum harshly around his cock and his knot, cunt spasming. He cums at that same moment, hot ropes of his seed coating your walls white and his knot plugging your hole to keep it all in.
Neither of you move for a good minute because quite frankly, you’re not able to. The aftershocks are enough to keep you frozen, simply panting and trying to catch your breath. Your entire body is buzzing with pleasure and it feels like you’re floating in the clouds. Kylo is the one to come-to first, getting his arms under you to flip you both on your sides so that he’s spooning you, chest pressed firmly against your back and his big body practically engulfing you. The movement jostles his knot and makes more cum spurt from his cock and it sounds like he chokes on his breath.
He sighs, kissing the back of your neck before shifting his attention to your bond mark. Kylo’s tongue runs over it soothingly, almost like an apology for biting you. He just felt the primal need in him to refresh the mark, to let anyone else know that you belong to him. With the way you’re absolutely covered head to toe in his scent, you think everyone across the galaxy will know. “You okay?” He murmurs once he’s satisfied.
You nod, even though it feels like too much work. “Mhm.” You’re exhausted. Your heat was completely fucked out of you… for now at least. You know it’ll come back in an hour or two, ready for the same thing all over again. At least your alpha will be with you this time.
“You did so good, sweetheart.” Kylo says, his voice so full of love and adoration for you. He kisses along your jaw to the back of your ear. “My sweet omega.” You love his praise, you love the moments after when he’s so soft and gentle with you. It makes you feel so safe and happy, like you have everything you could ever ask for. And you do, really, because he’s so willing to get you anything, to provide you with everything.
He’s quiet for a moment before kissing your gland again. You can tell something was bothering him. “Never should’ve let you go on that mission.” He mutters, anger biting at his tone. “I should’ve known it was too close.”
“It’s okay. I didn’t expect it either.” You say, taking his hand that had been wrapped around your waist into your own. “It’s fine now.”
“I could feel when you were going into heat,” he continues, burying his face in your neck to remind himself that you’re here, “I could feel it and I wasn’t there… it drove me fucking insane. I needed to get to you.”
You can only imagine how it affected him, sensing you across the galaxy and being so incapable of helping you at all. You get glimpses of those past emotions through your bond; how angry he was, how agitated and scared. He’s far more attuned to the Force than you are, so it was much easier for him to connect to you than it was for you to connect to him. He had to just stand back while you suffered.
“Kylo, it’s okay.” You murmur again, bringing the back of his hand to your lips to break him from his thoughts. “I’m here now. You took care of me so well. You built such a good nest.”
That seems to calm him down. “I did? I just threw what I could on to the bed.”
You nod. “It’s far better than what I had in that ship.” You nuzzle into the soft materials. “Good for pups.” Just the mention has his cock throbbing inside you and pushing out more cum, as if making sure that that actually happens. You both groan.
Once he’s done, you sigh contentedly and look around. “Though… maybe just a few things could be fixed.” You say, reaching out to fix said things as you do. They’d been bothering that primal part of you that enjoys the nesting for a while. A pillow was just a bit out of a place, a blanket wasn’t fluffed up enough by just a tad, and one of his capes was just slightly askew. It makes you feel kind of crazy, but it puts your mind at ease. The whole thing has Kylo chuckling.
He brushes hair back from your face. “You should rest while you can.” He orders. “You’ll need it.”
You’re already starting to feel drowsy again, so you can’t even argue. The low, rumbling purr that’s started in Kylo’s chest adds to it. It’s such a soothing sound—just like a cat’s purr, instantly making your body relax against him. You can feel the vibrations from it reverberated in your back. You curl up as best you can in his hold with his knot still in you, his strong arms secure around your middle. There’s no need for a blanket because Kylo keeps you plenty warm—he’s like your own personal heater.
Laying there in your big, comfy nest with your alpha holding you close and his scent all around you, with your heat finally satiated… it’s so, so easy to fall asleep.
#the nesting is always my fav part sorry#I loooove bein comfy#I’ve been stuck on this one for over a week IM FINALLY FREE#omegaverse#omegaverse x reader#omegaverse fic#omega reader#star wars#star wars fanfic#star wars x reader#alpha Kylo ren#alpha Kylo#alpha Kylo ren x reader#kylo ren#kylo#kylo fanfic#kylo ren fanfic#kylo ren x reader#kylo x reader#kylo x you#Kylo ren fluff#Kylo ren smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
platonic yandere WB and orphan feral child reader
Solitude
Platonic Yandere Whitebeard Pirates x GN Child Reader
5.3k words
Summary: Your life of isolation on an abandoned island is interrupted when a mistake leads to you being spotted by some pirates.
Warnings: brief descriptions of death and violence, starvation, drugging, forced adoption, platonic yanderes
Creeping closer to the shoreline left your nerves rattled. While it wasn’t unheard of for pirates to stop at this island, you’ve never seen a ship so big before. You stare in awe and fear at the behemoth of a ship stationed not far from the shore.
From your hiding spot under some brush, you’ve seen several pirates leave the ship and disperse throughout the island. Presumably, they were looking for food. They wouldn’t find much. This has been a bad year for fruit and berries, and the few animals that called this island home were getting harder and harder to catch.
Frustration ate away at you. There was so little for you to eat as is, and these people were about to steal what was left. You were already starving, and now it’s about to get worse. Still, you weren’t stupid enough to confront them about it. Talking to pirates was a dangerous idea… you learned that lesson the hard way.
Being stranded wasn’t so bad at first. You still had your mom and dad, and they took care of the bulk of the work. They’d built the treehouse that you call home and taught you how to survive. While they were always trying to flag down passing ships for help, you’d never cared all that much about it. You could barely even remember what civilization was like anymore, so you felt no real desire to go back to it. Being alone with your family was all that you knew, and the idea of anything else felt scary.
Everything came crashing down the day that some pirates docked at the island. Your parents told you to stay put in the treehouse and approached the crew to beg them for a ride back home. Following them was something you would go on to regret for the rest of your life. Despite your family being nothing but kind and respectful… they were brutalized. All you could do was watch in terror as your parents were beaten to death for “bothering” the pirates.
You hated pirates.
Dragging your parents’ battered bodies back home was a grueling effort. They were so much bigger than you were, and you couldn’t stop crying as you looked at their bodies. If you hadn't seen it happen, you wouldn’t have even been sure it was them. Then you had to dig their graves with your bare hands. It took all day to get both of the holes deep enough to put them into. You brought over the biggest rocks you could carry as a way to mark where they were so you would never forget.
Ever since that day, you’ve been completely alone. It was hard. So much harder than you ever imagined. It’s not like you didn’t know how much your parents had done for you while they were still alive, but it was completely different having to now do all of it by yourself without any guidance.
Gathering and storing rainwater was all up to you, getting food was all up to you, starting fires to cook meat and keep warm was all up to you. There were many points during the first year by yourself where you thought you were going to die. Miraculously, you managed to survive and settle into your independent role. You’ve survived on your own for a little over three years now by following your instincts and what your parents taught you. Today was the first time you’ve considered going against one of your rules.
You knew that your next course of action should be to leave and hide out until these pirates get off the island. Getting as close as you already have was needlessly risky, but you couldn’t help it. They were cooking up a bunch of food on the beach and it smelled amazing. Your stomach growled and you were salivating as the aroma of cooking meat assaulted your senses. Maybe it’s because you were starving from struggling to forage this year, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave.
It was stupid… but you need food. If they’re going to take your food, then why shouldn’t you take some of theirs? The guy that had been cooking left a little while ago to go back to the ship for something, and no one else was around. If you were quick… This should be fine.
After taking another glance around to confirm that no one would see you, you spring out of the bushes and sprint for where the food is. There are several tables littered with food. You skid to a stop in front of one and grab the first thing that you see. Crouching down behind the table, you examine your find. It’s brown and has a tough, yet crumbly exterior. When you squeeze it, it gives easily and crackles under the force of your hands. Without a second of hesitation, you bring it to your mouth and bite into it. The inside is white and much softer. It’s simultaneously chewy and crunchy, and you love it. Your eyes start to grow wet as you chew it.
It tastes so good.
The rest of it is eaten in seconds, and then you grab more of these things off the table and stuff them into your bag that you carry with you everywhere. As much as you want to sample everything now, you have no idea how much time you have before someone comes back. Getting caught was not an option. If pirates killed your parents just for speaking to them, you didn’t want to find out what they would do to someone who stole from them.
Random food is stuffed into your bag as you frantically look around for signs of someone coming back. You approach the fire that has meat roasting over it. Your mouth watered as you smelled it from so close up. You reach for it, then pull your hand away. It would make more sense to cut off a piece with your knife. Grabbing something that’s roasting over an open fire will just burn your hand.
You drop to your knees and try to find your hunting knife in your bag. Just as you find it, you hear something. Footsteps. Your heart hammers in your chest and you frantically scramble under the nearest table. Peeking out from under the table, you see the cook coming back with a basket in his arms. He drops it on a table, then walks over to where the meat is cooking and checks on it.
One of your hands clutches your knife, while the other covers your nose and mouth to keep yourself quiet. Your heart is pounding in your chest so loud that you’re scared he’s going to hear it.
The man approaches the table you’re under and stops moving. You shake in fear, thinking you’ve been found. He lets out an exasperated sigh and calls out, “Can you people not wait ten minutes before pillaging?!” He grumbles under his breath about bottomless pits and starts to turn away, only to stop when he hears something.
Your stomach growling.
Trying to clutch your stomach does nothing. It’s too late now. You can only hope that he didn’t actually hear that, but it was so loud. What feels like hours pass in the tensest silence of your life, then a hand shoots under the table and grabs your arm before hauling you out into the open.
You’re effortlessly brought up to eye level with the cook, who stares at you with a baffled expression. His mouth opens and closes a few times before words actually come out. “Who… Where did you come from?”
Finally, your instincts override your terror, and you slash at him with your knife. His arms are so long that you can’t even reach him, but the action is still enough to be startling and make him drop you. The second you hit the ground, you run. You duck under the table to grab your bag and then take off towards the woods.
“Hey, wait! Come back!”
The cook tries to run after you, but you’re able to easily lose him once you enter the forest. There are plenty of tight squeezes that you know someone his size won’t be able to fit through. It’s not long before you’ve stopped hearing his voice and you can finally slow down. You lean against a tree as you catch your breath.
Normally, you wouldn’t get exhausted so easily, but your emaciated body couldn’t handle much exertion anymore. You pant hard and cough loudly as you sink to the ground. Internally, you curse at yourself for being so weak. You need to get back to the treehouse. Just because that one guy gave up didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be others.
Forcing yourself to get back on your feet, you continue the trek back home. You pull out another one of those brown things from your bag and start munching on it. This one tastes just as good as the last, and you can’t help but wonder what it is. It isn’t like anything you’ve ever had before.
As you walk, you hear something strange. You freeze and look around. It sounds like… a bird? But the flap of the wings is much louder than you’re used to. You whip your head around frantically while trying to identify the source.
Then you see it. A giant, blue bird was flying overhead. And it looked like it was on fire. You watch, slack jawed, as it lands on a branch above your head and peers down at you. It isn’t behaving aggressively, but that isn’t enough to quell your fear. That bird could easily swoop down and pick you up, and its talons looked like they were as long as your fingers. You start walking backwards while keeping your eyes locked on the animal. You aren’t far from your treehouse now. If you could just get in there, you should be safe. That giant bird looked too big to fit inside.
Much to your horror, the bird starts following you from a distance. Its actions aren’t necessarily predatory yet, but you figure that’s only because it’s trying to decide if you’re worth the effort to prey on or not. It takes effort to not run, but you’ve learned over the years that doing that will only encourage the animal to attack. You walk at a brisk pace while watching the bird as closely as you can while periodically glancing over your shoulder to make sure that you’re still going the right way.
You’re relieved when you see your treehouse come into view, only to quickly become distressed when the bird lands on one of the branches supporting it. This is enough to give you pause about entering it. You really don’t want to get too close to that bird. It could easily carry you away if it was able to grab you… but it hasn’t behaved like a predator at all yet. Maybe it’s just curious and will go away once you get inside?
Taking a deep breath to settle your rattled nerves, you start climbing up the tree. There used to be a rope ladder, but it fell apart about a year ago, so now you’re stuck scaling the tree using its trunk, branches and the vines growing on it.
Once again, your weakened state was taking a heavy toll on you. Normally, you could get from the forest floor to the treehouse in a matter of seconds. Today, after your previous run and the fast paced walking you did, you were so exhausted that you had to take a break halfway up. A vine is tightly clutched in your shaky hands to help keep you steady as you sit on one of the branches, trying to catch your breath and get your head to stop spinning.
The familiar sound of heavy wings flapping cuts through the air again, and you look up in hopes that you’ll see that weird bird flying away. The bird flies behind the tree, then comes around and lands on another branch. The one that you’re on.
The branch dips under the added weight of the large bird, forcing you to hold onto the vine tighter to keep from falling. Your heart was pounding again as the creature inched closer to you. You’re frozen in fear and stuck staring up at it as its head cranes over to you. The way its eyes examine you feels weird. It seems so… calculated. Intelligent. Birds’ eyes have never looked so purposeful to you.
Now that it’s so close, you can’t help but be drawn to the markings around its eyes. The way that the purple feathers frame them reminds you of the glasses that your father wore. The reminder makes your chest feel weird, so you quickly dismiss it. This isn’t a good time to be getting sentimental. You need to get into your treehouse before those pirates spot you, or this bird decides that it wants to eat you.
Using a burst of energy brought on by your desire to not become a snack, you frantically close the gap between you and your home. The bird doesn’t lunge after you, much to your relief, but you still slam the hatch shut as soon as you get through the hole in the floor that acts as the entrance to your treehouse. You collapse on the floor, gasping for breath and coughing loudly between each ragged inhale.
You freeze and snap your head up when you hear the bird take off, and you wonder if it’s about to attack your home. It’s so large that you think it would be able to cave in the roof just from landing on it. Much to your relief, however, the flaps of its powerful wings grow more and more faint as the animal flies away from your home. Your head falls back onto the floor as the tension finally leaves your body.
It takes a while for you to recover from your exhaustion enough to get to your feet. When you do, you trudge over to the pile of fabrics and furs that make up your bed and fall onto it. You slide your bag off your shoulder and rip open the flap so you can finally sate your appetite with your findings.
Everything is okay. You’re safe for now.
At first, all you can do is gawk at how much food you have. You’ve never had so much food at once. It’s almost overwhelming to have so many options in front of you in such a plentiful amount.
Snapping out of your choice paralysis, you grab something that you think is a fruit. It’s bright orange, and the skin feels thick and textured. You sniff it, but the smell isn’t all that strong. Experimentally, you bite into it. The skin is tough, but once your teeth break through, juice squirts out and drips down your hands and into your mouth. The taste is like nothing you’ve ever had before. It’s so strong and sweet and it makes your mouth feel funny, but in a good way. You rip out the chunk you bit into and chew it. The skin doesn’t taste very good, and you wonder if you’re even supposed to eat it. You pick off pieces of the skin until you can bite into just the flesh of the fruit. When you do, you feel like your previous assumption about the skin was correct. Eating the flesh directly was infinitely better with the skin out of the way.
You make quick work of the rest of the fruit. Your hands and face are sticky, but you’re feeling happy for once. You took a major risk stealing this stuff, but it felt worth it. Your stomach was going to be full, and you got to taste new things, even if it would be just this once. You’re about to dive back into your bag of goodies, but then you hear it.
Footsteps. Lots of them.
Your previous elation is gone in an instant and replaced with raw fear. You unsheath your hunting knife and drop into a crawl. You go over to where there’s a small split in the wall for you to peer out of without risking being seen. As you squint through the crack, your heart drops into your stomach when you see three people approaching the tree your home is in. One of them is the cook that saw you earlier. You start to panic, realizing that you’ve been hunted down.
This is it for you. You’re about to suffer the same fate as your parents because you got careless.
You scurry backwards until your back is against one of the walls. There’s only one way in and out of this treehouse: the hatch on the floor. It isn’t very big, only one person can climb through at a time. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to take them on as each comes through. It’s unlikely, but this is your only chance. You refuse to just roll over and let them kill you. If you die today, you’ll go down fighting.
The walls muffle noise from the outside, making it impossible for you to make out what’s being said. What you can hear loud and clear is someone scaling up the tree. The branches creak loudly under that person’s weight as they easily climb up. In mere seconds, you see the hatch get pushed up and to the side. Your fingers squeeze around the hilt of your knife in preparation for what you need to do.
A head pokes through. A man with dark hair and freckles on his face peers around your treehouse. He chuckles quietly and mutters to himself, “This really takes me back.”
He starts to haul himself through the hole, and that’s when you finally spring into action. You lunge at him with a snarl and bring your blade down on his neck with all your might. At least you tried to.
With seemingly no effort, the man grabs your wrist, effectively bringing you to a halt. His grip is impossibly strong. You try to pull away, but he won’t budge. You expect the man to snap your arm or hit you with an attack of his own, but he barely even reacts to you. He keeps a firm, yet surprisingly painless, grip on you while he finishes climbing into your home. He speaks to you in a casual tone, “Relax, kid. No one’s here to hurt you.”
Your wrist is released, but he snatches your knife out of your hand and closely examines it. He runs his thumb along the edge and laughs a little. “Damn, I didn’t even need to block. This thing is so dull that I don’t think it would have been able to cut me.” When he looks back up at you, you scramble back, completely terrified from how easily this guy disarmed you. The man notes your apparent terror and sets down your knife before holding his hands up, “Hey, take it easy. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. No one will.” A hand is extended toward you. The hand is open and relaxed. “I’m Ace. What’s your name?”
All that you do is stare at him. You’re not sure what he’s doing. Does he expect you to give him something after he already took your knife?
The smile that he was sporting drops slightly, and he retracts his hand. “Not much for handshakes? Can you at least tell me your name?” Again, you just stare at him. You don’t know why he’s behaving the way he is, which only makes you more anxious. Ace’s smile droops more. “Can you talk? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
You decide to answer his last question with a tense nod. The response makes his smile return and he appears to be oddly relieved for reasons that you can’t fathom.
Ace scoots closer to you while pulling something off of his belt. “That’s good. I was starting to get worried that I’d have to act out everything.” He removes the top from the thing he pulled off his belt and holds it out to you. You can’t see what’s inside it from where you’re crouched, but you can see steam coming out of it. “Here, I brought something for you.”
When you don’t make a move to take it from him, he sighs and sets it down on the floor before moving back. “No need to be so suspicious, kid. Thatch warmed up some milk and honey for you. He thought you could use it.”
You don’t know what milk or honey is. Is it food? Accepting something from a pirate feels like a bad idea, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t plan to go away until you do. And with him blocking the way out and also having your only usable weapon, you feel like you don’t really have a choice here.
Carefully, you creep forward. Your eyes stay trained on Ace as you do. His own eyes are flitting around your home. The lack of focus on you helped soothe your nerves slightly, but you still scrambled back frantically once you were able to grab the weird cup-thing. It was warm to the touch, and the stuff inside was white. You sniff at it, and your stomach growls in response to the comforting aroma. You take an experimental sip. The taste is sweet and soothing, but also weirdly familiar. An old memory tickled at the back of your mind, but not clearly enough to fully remember it. Have you had this “milk and honey” before? Maybe before your family became stranded on this island?
Immediately, you tilt the cup up and start gulping it down greedily, wanting to drink it all before Ace could try and take it back. It’s gone in a matter of seconds. Despite just being a drink, it felt oddly filling. You feel disappointed that it’s gone already, but you don’t want to push your luck by asking for more.
Ace’s shoulders relax when you finish the drink, though you’re not sure why. He attempts to converse with you again. “See? I’m not so bad, right? I don’t suppose you want to tell me your name now, do you?”
Sharing your name feels weird. Your parents were the only people who ever knew it, and a part of you wants to keep it that way. But… Ace has been strangely nice to you. Maybe it won’t be a bad thing to tell him.
“... (Y/N).”
Your voice croaks and your throat aches from just saying the one word. Now that you think about it… you don’t think you’ve spoken since your parents died. There hasn’t been a reason to since that fateful day..
The noticeable pain in your voice caught Ace’s attention, and he frowned. He moves closer to you again. While you do tense up, you don’t move away, which he appears to take as a good sign. He moves even closer to you and speaks up again, “You look pretty hungry, (Y/N). Thatch brought some food for you.”
This makes you perk up and glance around his person, trying to figure out where he’s keeping the food at. He picks up on that and laughs lightly. “I don’t have it. If you want it… you have to come with me. Okay?”
As soon as he says that, you recoil. While he had earned a little bit of trust, it wasn’t enough to make you blindly follow him.
Ace’s hand shoots out and grabs yours before you can back away too much. His grip is firm, but not crushing. He squeezes it gently and speaks in a calm voice, “You don’t have to go far. You just have to come down from this tree. Thatch and Marco are waiting at the bottom.” When you don’t look convinced and instead keep trying to pull away, he drags you over to the hole in the floor and guides you to look down. The other two people you saw before are standing by the base of the tree. They smile warmly and wave at you.
“They just want to see you and make sure you’re okay. Can you please come down so they can do that?”
Your instincts are screaming at you to not agree and stay up here. You’ve already taken too many risks today, and this feels like an insane idea. You’re already vulnerable purely from your physical state, but you would also be outnumbered three-to-one if you go down there.
But, what’s stopping them from coming up if you don’t cooperate? It feels like you’re already caught, so maybe you should just do whatever they say so as to not upset them
With significant hesitation, you give Ace an affirmative nod, which makes him grin widely. You expect for him to start climbing down so you could follow him. Rather than that, he abruptly picks you up and drops out of the hole. You squawk in surprise and flail as both of you fall. Your eyes screw shut and you brace for impact, only for him to somehow slow down just before he lands. It almost sounds like there’s a fire for a moment, but by the time your eyes open so you can look, the noise is gone.
And you’re surrounded by three pirates.
You shrink in on yourself as the other two stare at you. They don’t look angry, but you feel scared of them regardless. Ace sets you down on the ground, then gently pushes you towards them.
The tall cook that you ran from earlier crouches down and smiles widely at you. Even now, he towers over you, prompting you to lean back against Ace. Your wariness does nothing to deter the cook. He pulls out a small box and holds it out to you.
“Hey there! I’m Thatch. You gave me quite the surprise earlier. I thought for sure it was Ace getting into the food early.” When you don’t take the box, he pulls the lid off and shows what’s inside. There’s a bunch of food densely packed into it, and the wave of smells that hits you leaves your mouth watering.
Your restraint dies on the spot, and you quickly snatch the box out of his hands and grab a handful of food before stuffing it into your mouth. You glance up at Thatch while you’re chewing and see him holding out some tiny, shiny thing with some points on the end.
He chuckles and stuffs it back in his pocket while returning to his full height, “I guess we can teach you about silverware later.”
While you eat, you keep your back pressed against Ace’s legs. You’re only half paying attention as the men talk amongst themselves.
Thatch spoke first, “Can they talk?”
“A little. I got them to tell me their name, but it sounds like the kid hasn’t said anything in forever. Their name is (Y/N).”
The blonde man, who you’re assuming has to be Marco, kneels down and starts examining you closely. His glasses reminded you a little bit of the bird you saw earlier. His scrutinizing gaze makes you hold your box of food tighter and turn away from him slightly. This makes him chuckle and speak to you in a soothing voice, “I’m not going to take it. I just want to get a good look at you so I can make sure you’re okay.”
His hand touches your hair and lifts clumps of it up. You wince as the matted sections of hair tug at your scalp. You used to keep your hair cut short but were forced to stop when your knife became so dull that it couldn’t really cut through anymore.
Marco hummed quietly and muttered under his breath, “Might be best to just shave it all off.” He dropped the hair clumps and moved on to examining your face. His eyes zeroed in on something in particular, and he frowns. “Did you break your nose?”
The question brings you back to a time shortly after your parents’ death. Your father had done the majority of the hunting when he was still alive, and he would use his rifle to take down some of the larger animals on the island. You had tried using it to kill a hog, but that ended horribly. Not only had you missed, but the gun jerked backwards and slammed right into your nose with a loud crack. When you managed to get to a stream so you could see your reflection, you saw that your nose was crooked. You had tried to fix it, but it hurt so bad when you touched it that you weren’t able to make it much better.
You snapped out of your thoughts and nodded your head to answer Marco’s question. He carefully holds your face and runs his thumbs down either side of your nose. Pain shoots through it, making you whine and try to pull away. He allows you to, which you appreciate.
“Is it hard to breathe through your nose?”
You stuff the last handful of food into your mouth before answering him. It takes a moment for you to find the words and force them out, “A little… used to it…”
Marco sighs softly at your answer. He pulls out a piece of cloth from his pocket and uses it to wipe off your face and hand. The cloth is put away, and he continues with his questions. “Are your parents here?”
The question makes you tense up. You didn’t appreciate how many reminders you were getting of them today. You nod stiffly, then point over to the rocks marking where they’re buried. The men glance around in confusion for a moment before looking back at you. You sigh and go over to the rocks and pat the dirt. “Here.”
All of their faces contort as they figure out what you meant.
Thatch was the one to break the silence. “You aren’t out here all alone, are you?”
You nod.
“How long have you been alone for?”
“... Three years.”
They all share wide-eyed looks with each other. Marco quickly strides up to you and takes one of your hands in his, “Let’s go back to the ship, okay?”
“No!” Any previous calm you had faded away and was replaced with a raw panic. You flailed your arm in a desperate attempt to get him to let go, but much like Ace, he wouldn’t budge.
Marco uses his other hand to grab your shoulder and force you to hold still. “Calm down, you’re just going to hurt yourself. We’re going to help you. You aren’t going to have to be alone anymore.”
You try to keep fighting, you really do, but your head starts to spin and your limbs grow weak. Before you can completely collapse, Marco scoops you up into his arms. You want to push him away, but your arms won’t do anything. All that you can do is blink wearily at your surroundings as they all swirl and blend together.
Thatch steps closer and gently pats your head. “About time. I was starting to think I went too light on the dosage. Did (Y/N) not drink all of the milk?”
“They did. They downed the entire thermos in a few seconds. I didn’t think they were going to so much as make it out of the treehouse awake.”
“I guess they’re tougher than I thought. The poor thing looked so scrawny and sickly that I was afraid I might kill them with a normal dose.”
All that comes out of you is a weak whimper as your vision starts to fade to black. Marco rubs your back and begins to walk. The gentle rocking from his gait only makes you nod off faster. His voice is quiet as he tells you assurances of how everything is going to be better now, but it does nothing to comfort you.
Terror is the only thing in your mind as you finally succumb to whatever they just did to you.
#portgas d ace#portgas d ace x reader#thatch one piece#thatch x reader#marco the phoenix#marco the phoenix x reader#yandere one piece#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece x y/n#one piece x you#whitebeard pirates#yanderefangirl#yandere#platonic yandere#x reader#reader insert
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Getting closer (Kang Hyewon)
“All I’m saying is—” Hyewon looks away, drink in hand, taking a little sip, calm and alluring as ever, “if you only want to see me naked, then you could have just said so.”
You widely stare back, silent, indifferent—or at least pretend to be. It’s gotten you a fair amount of awards, after all. It’s not the slightest bit of convincing whatsoever.
She laughs, softly, as if this was the expected outcome. “So I’m taking that as an admission.”
Setting down the near-empty wine glass on the bathroom sink, Hyewon attempts to walk away, only to be stopped by a sudden pull. Your hand appears tightly wrapped around her dainty wrist, unwilling to let go. Your eyes aimlessly wander up and down the empty void that is her black dress. There are hardly any thoughts behind that predictably empty head of yours, only the simplest of desires.
You catch the subtlest grin forming on her saccharine lips. You fucking hate how she makes you feel. How she makes your heart race with every exchange.
Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you wish you got to know her better.
—————
The last year and a half of your career has mostly centered around one thing, or in this case, one person: Kang Hyewon. There’s also this drama starring your pairing as co-leads, and you’ve been promoting together, but your names make up more of the headlines than the very show. Your names are synonymously tied together akin to an actual couple.
Unsurprisingly, Hyewon is damn gorgeous. It’s how she’s getting the calls to begin with. Another one of those former singers turned actors looking to be taken seriously within the larger entertainment industry. Most never make it past their first project and fall back on their old careers, with some completely flaming out of the spotlight altogether. She’s an exception. A minor part here, a supporting cameo there—until she’s more than pleasant eye candy. A starlet who knows how to pick what roles would showcase her talents the most.
She’s the perfect blend of beauty goddess and hotshot young star that the internet can get behind.
So it comes as a surprise when she’s casted as second fiddle to you, the first billing—and everyone comes away talking about her more. The scene stealer.
(This plucky rival agent, investigating a case your character has been trailing for years, barely scraping by with the thinnest of clues, only for her to uncover the mystery only days after starting the investigation. The writing screams Mary Sue, but she acts convincing and vulnerable enough to escape the scathing think pieces that’s commonly associated with such characters. Not to mention: you both look damn good together on screen and during your public appearances.
It’s a team that sailed a thousand ships—both for your characters and in the real world.)
The consummate professional you are, you don’t think much of it. Your filming experience can only be described as businesslike. Except for the scenes where you’re together on screen, you’ve been separated at arms’ length, only exchanging words between takes to keep any further relationship from developing. It’s only during the press tour where you’ve finally gotten somewhat close.
Perhaps a little too close for comfort. Enough to make video compilations by overzealous fans who think you and Hyewon are really an item. The evidence is everywhere—in interviews, behind the scenes content, and on both your Instagram pages. At least, that’s what they want to believe. Everyone else brushes it off as two hot people being hot together, and not much else.
Here’s the thing: you love Hyewon—that much is true. The question now is: does she love you back?
Thankfully, your duo doesn’t get in the way of the show being lauded, despite making up a majority of its fandom. Positive reviews from both critics and viewers, especially in regards to your chemistry. The connection between you two is one in a million, something that can’t be built over years and years of working together. It also helps your performances sell the dynamic incredibly well—well enough to create those delusional shippers that form the bedrock of your partnership.
Your names were positioned to go far during awards season. Not the consensus top pick, but as dark horse contenders to steal one every now and then. And while you both won your fair share of accolades, neither of you ended up walking away with the top prize. The conversation during the final ceremony of the year consisted primarily of the media and viewers talking about how your appearances together these last few months—and how you’re a match made in heaven.
Everyone’s gonna miss this pairing—and so will you.
Now you’re back at square one. Having snuck away from the afterparty currently celebrating the dozen or so awards your show won earlier tonight, you’ve brought Hyewon back to your hotel room. Neither of you cared once you both lost your respective categories. The pundits thought you each only had the slimmest of odds to win, so why bother. Hell, you were both itching to leave as soon as the red carpet concluded.
It’s all behind you now. You’re finally free from the glitz, glamor, and chaos of these vanity ceremonies and can really focus on what really matters—the pretty girl that you most likely won’t be seeing starring tomorrow. Your careers and interests couldn’t be any further apart: your main focus is movies, while hers are dramas. Both of you remain booked and busy for the next few years with different projects, with not a single one reuniting you two for the foreseeable future.
Back to Hyewon. She’s looking down at her wrist, tightly held by your hand. She allows it. You can feel her pulse. You sense that your hearts are racing in unison, tense and anxious.
“Are you gonna do something?” she questions, daring you to pull the trigger. She knows something you don’t—or maybe you do. You’re blinded by fear to realize it. “The night is fleeting. If not now, then when?”
Her words ring through your head.
If not now, then when?
The same five words, ordered in the exact same way—etched in tiny letters on her skin.
You still remember everything—frame by frame, down to the last details. On screen, it’s implied. In your mind, it canonically happened. She took her shirt off, exposing herself and the scars of battle, and you were gonna go there. In your characters’ supposed words, ‘Clean’’ in your own unique way.
It was ultimately never shot. Bare minimum of fanservice and completely unnecessary, the director said.
The tattoo sticks out, not only because of how it's deeply embedded on her otherwise pristine, lithe figure, but also because it represents the last 18 months of your career.
During this period, there are a lot of things that you’ve regret—and will regret. The fact you’ve kept contact with her during filming at a minimum, keeping your interactions strictly between takes and creating a negative air around you in her eyes. The fact it took you so long to exchange numbers, only getting it done during the press tour. The fact that you never return her messages when she constantly reaches out to you, whether through text or on your Instagram. The fact you haven’t thanked her enough times during your acceptance speeches, even when you mention her name in almost every other sentence. If there’s anything you want to admit, it’s that Hyewon is everything.
Most importantly, the fact that you fucking love her, to the point where you’d yearn moments when you’re not beside her—and you still lack the will to confess to her. Even right now. When she’s right at your fingertips.
Perhaps she knows this. The signs were there all along. How she often posts your red carpet photos together and tags you in them. How she also mentions you as much during her acceptance speeches and credits you as a reason for her improvements in acting, even referencing specific advice you’ve given her. The biggest hint, however, are the dresses she’s been wearing to these galas, most evident being tonight. Simple all black, tailor made for her frame, showing off her assets for flaunting to the cameras.
Earlier, she led you to an empty part of the theater to say something in private. “I wore this just for you,” she said—and from that point, you had to get her alone, whatever it takes.
Really, Hyewon has no intention to leave tonight. She’s just waiting for those magic words. There’s no other logical reason for her to be here, other than for you.
She might as well be holding up a huge signpost with all her requests written in capital letters.
“If you’re not gonna do anything,” she says, tone casual, slipping one strap of her dress down her shoulder, the one half of the fabric dropping a fair amount. “Then I might as well do it myself. I was hoping you’d take this off me—”
“Stop.”
You grab her other hand, close to touching the other strap, the dress more than ready to fall down. She raises her eyebrows in amusement. Afterward, she puts the seized hand down, convincing you to release the grip.
Another win for Hyewon. You’ve lost count as to how many times she’s been messing with you throughout awards season. Probably in the hundreds. Thousands if you count the interviews and little jabs during her speeches. Every mention of your name is an immediate sign of trouble. You can sense she’s enjoying every single moment, relishing the remaining time you have left. Meanwhile, it’s clear on your face that you’re stressed.
But for what?
“If it hasn’t gotten through your thick skull, then I have no choice but to explain it.” Hyewon climbs atop the bathroom sink, strong enough to lift herself off the ground. She pours the glass with new wine; it’s not meant for you. Her attitude flips instantaneously like a switch, composed and readying herself as if it were another photoshoot.
Taking a sip of the drink, she pours the rest all over her dress. It serves no purpose anymore. it’s undeniable that she knows what she’s doing. That elegant yet cocky smile is permanently seared into your brain. Someone this haughty shouldn’t be this beautiful and seductive. “You can stand there and waste the night away, or you can do something about it. All up to you.”
You can only sigh. Whether out of wistfulness or annoyance is up for interpretation. You can add taking her back to your hotel room and taking this role in your ever growing list of regrets. When it’s all said and done, it’ll definitely be as long as the career documentary they’ll make about you in 50 years.
What more do you have to lose?
This will all be behind you soon enough.
You finally stop giving her the cold shoulder. “God, I really wish you weren’t such a tease,” you remark, pulling on the dress strap she previously slid down. “Because otherwise, it would have been so much easier.”
Hyewon seems to have taken your words seriously, because she suddenly kisses you—as in, relentlessly smothers you. Her arms wrap around your neck, slowly pulling you close into an embrace. She smells of alcohol and perfume. An unusual concoction that you can drown yourself in.
“Only if you say the magic word,” she says, gently laughing between kisses. The lower half of your face is full of pale lipstick marks. It was foolish to think she had turned a new leaf, knowing how intentional Hyewon can be with everything.
You’ve really got no other choice.
“I love you,” you confess, but in the smallest audible voice imaginable—hiding that reluctance behind your tone.
Hyewon pulls herself back, smiling toothily at you, borderline snorting. Her expressions convey the idea that you told her a joke, which it may as well be.
“That’s it? Doesn’t sound like someone who loves me,” she remarks, tone evidently disparaging.
“Fuck me.” The groan comes out instinctively, as if this wasn’t your first time getting burned like this. Your head is raised to the ceiling, asking the gods for an out.
“That’s my line,” she spouts, her response almost as instantaneous. Wit comes naturally to Hyewon. The countless viewers and interviewers who’ve laughed can speak on her behalf.
“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” you ask, knowing you’ve willingly fallen for the easiest bait in the entire world.
“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” she repeats, mockingly imitating your voice, much to your utter chagrin. This isn’t part of some romcom or a sketch. This is real. Everything comes back around to Hyewon. She laughs—basks in your suffering.
It’s the kind of trait that would leave you second guessing whether you really love her or not. As it turns out, the public loves celebrities with a playful sense of humor. Not even you are innocent—you’ve been caught red-handed on camera a few times. Hyewon doesn’t need to reaffirm herself.
But she would love to hear it straight from the source.
“Say it. Say it.” Hyewon is urging you—demanding you—as if it were a matter of life or death. Her hands are everywhere, gripping you by the cheek and the throat like her prized possessions, threatening to choke the life out of you.
Truthfully, this was coming the moment she stepped through those doors for the first table read. Hyewon’s gravity is inescapable.
“Love you—Hyem, please—”
Struggling to push back against her hold, you can tell that she’s taking pleasure in every moment she has you like this: wrapped around her finger, so whipped over her that it’s alarming. There’s little use in trying to be coy or subtle. If she wanted you to go down to the afterparty in nothing but your boxers, you’d fold in a heartbeat. She’s the kind of girl you’d happily end up in a scandal with, someone you’d throw your career away in exchange for one timeless night, against the advice of everyone who knows better.
She knows this too. Look at the coy grin spreading on her face. A smile perfect for the front cover of any magazine or commercial. It’s the perfect facade for the attitude hiding beneath.
“I love you Hyem,” you repeat, showing a bit more desperation and sincerity this time. You’re breathing against her neck, the idea of pressing your lips against her skin a dire need. It’s unfortunate you can’t make it look like an accident—as is the idea of your bodies sinking down on the bathroom countertop. “For the longest time, I wanted you, but—”
Only now do you come to the simplest realization: there are no accidents.
Normally, you should feel some shame for being this oblivious. How a girl like Hyewon is giving out all these hints, to the point where she might as well be spreading her legs wide and pointing down at her cunt with a colorful sign. Hell, a thigh is peeking through her dress, pressing on your leg right now. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about working with other actors, it’s that chemistry comes naturally—it can’t be taught.
And your bodies are doing exactly that. The friction between you can’t be any more tense.
“Then show me.” She sighs against your ear, pulling on the topmost button of your suit, pushing down the matching coat. Her leg extends around your limb, goading you to pull away, even though leaving the pretty sight right in front of you is the last thing on your mind.
You can only breathe. Slow. Hesitant. There's not a lot of hours left, and you’re wasting more by taking your sweet time—resting your gaze on her pale shoulder, admiring all the little details. In essence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what Hyewon wants. She’s showing a little frustration, proving how much better of an actress she is than you. Imagine being in her shoes, beckoning to someone astronomically unaware for months. So much energy and effort could have been saved if she chose to leave you out to dry. If you weren’t so preoccupied with thoughts of her, the many ways this little scene can go, you’d be wondering why she’s this persistent.
Maybe you’re just as important of a character in her story too, or you’re both stubborn in your own ways. Perhaps both.
None of that is your concern right now. You’re cupping Hyewon’s face, kissing her, nibbling down on her creamy skin, reaching up to her lips by the way of her neck, pulling on the strap of her dress little by little. In response, she’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear, removing your dress shirt one button at a time. It feels like you’re going through the motions, acting under the words of an intimacy coordinator and a director. Slowly but surely, it’s all coming together, until—
“Stop.”
You pull back, noticing your shirt is nearly undone as you look past her and at the mirror. Both dress straps are halfway down her arms, the fabric a mess, waiting to be swept away.
You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “What’s up?”
Hyewon tilts her head at an angle, unsatisfied. She’s staring at you intently, taking a moment to analyze you like you’re a problem to solve—which you are—before coming to a rather alarming conclusion. “You don’t seem like you want me that bad.”
The remark doesn’t register in your brain. “What do you mean—”
She yanks you forward for a deep kiss, cutting you off. Reciprocating her passion comes naturally—and so does everything else. The movement of your hands, taking lease of her back, tearing through the fabric of her dress, coming back to her cheeks, until you stop feeling cloth and register more flesh. Feeling her skin becomes your new addiction, something you can’t get enough of.
Watching her other movies—for research purposes—you knew she was well endowed, even when they were not on full display. Some of her previous gala dresses truly put a spotlight on her cleavage. Part of you thought it was editing trickery, a perfectly taken photo at the right time, or a bra doing the heavy lifting. All three even. But holding them now, with nothing in between, you simply couldn’t believe how well they’ve been hidden from you.
Her tits fold, go flush, and her nipples stiffen at your touch. They feel so right—as if they were handmade for you.
“God, Hyem—” you breathe out, savoring the sensation of her mounds in your clasp, unwilling to let go. Her taut nipples jerk with every run of your palms. If only you could rest your head between them, but your current position won’t allow you.
“They feel so good right?” Hyewon moans in response, shedding your unbuttoned shirt off your body and tossing it to the floor, taking lease of your muscles and back. Her dress bunches up around her waist, practically collapsing when she decides to get up from the sink. Although an expected outcome, you’re both surprised that you’ve managed to get each other’s clothes off.
And you’re only getting started.
Pushing you away, Hyewon meets you at your level. Gravity does the rest. She stands before you in nothing but heels. What a mental image to remember her after tonight. She leaves you frozen and trembling, jaw agape, your eyes in a daze, unable to find a place to settle your fleeting gaze on—until she rests her hands around your shoulders. You’re caught up in your own disbelief to meet her lovely gaze and that rather sweet smile, quite the difference from her bare state.
She lifts up a leg, pushing herself onto you for another passionate kiss. Taking advantage, her legs eventually wrap around your waist, bearing all her weight on your grasp. Despite her surprise attack, she’s feathery enough to carry around. It certainly helps that she’s not the heaviest girl you’ve lifted before; you have some experience—mostly unpleasant and usually backbreaking. Still, you’ll treat her like some delicate object that crumbles at the slightest touch. Something—or someone—you can’t ruin, or else you’d be ruined too.
You both end up in the living room, deeply engrossed in a fiery passion that’s too hot for cameras. Lifting her high, your lips find their way to her chest, pressing them in the place where they rightfully belong. Hyewon is stubborn, pushing your head further up to meet your lips in a direct, frantic kiss. Back and forth, you take turns between her tits and her lips, unintentionally slamming her against a wall, eliciting a few yelps out of her.
It doesn’t bother you both in the slightest. You hold her there, kissing down her abdomen and ribs, coming to the tiny inked part of her figure. The same tattoo that’s been ingrained in your head since you first saw them.
You mutter the very words against her skin.
“If not now, then when.”
They’ve never been so relevant till right now. You softly kiss the ink, silently thanking her for saving you from a lifetime’s worth of regret.
Hyewon winces, throws her head back, moans up to the ceiling. Her nails brush through your hair, then claw at your nape as you remain fixated on her tattooed rib. She deserves to be adored and worshiped.
“Look at me babe,” she murmurs, gently tilting you up, faint at your touch. Against your desires, you follow. “Put me down. You know why I’m here.”
You oblige without a second thought—and you’re both on a level playing field again.
Still, you can’t help but kiss her right after. She reciprocates the favor. You’re a perfect match. Even as you’re making out, you’re thinking of ways to get messy and get the jump on her while she’s preoccupied.
It ends up being your biggest mistake.
Both of you wrestle for control over the other, a scuffle that ends up knocking down a few appliances and tableware. The sound of glass shattering rips through the hotel room floor louder than your collective moans ever will. For someone with a lithe figure, Hyewon proves to be much stronger than you were led to believe. It shows when you try to push her onto another table; you both end up crashing to the floor seconds later.
From there, it’s whoever is the first to get up, and you knew it was all over from there.
Hyewon leads you into the sole bedroom, shoving you onto the mattress. Unrelenting, she slams onto you right after, pinning you down with her bare hands. Surprising her with your own strength, you reach for her raven locks through her ironclad grip of your wrists. Your lips continue to crash like waves against rocks, neither of you willing to back down. There’s a clear disparity between you: she wants you more.
To further prove her point, she presses her palms down on your chest, sitting over you upright, straddled on your lap. She’s never looked better.
Making quick work of your trousers, your cock is freed from its confines, only to be immediately caught up in Hyewon’s hand. Her grip spreads through your groin, turning breathing into an absolute nightmare. The one fear that’s been haunting your mind these last few months, finally realized.
And it’s staring you down with an innocent yet wicked smile.
“You have no idea how long I wanted this,” she remarks, her sultry voice sending shivers down your spine. Arching down, she presses her tongue forward on your throbbing tip. Combined with the pressure she’s building with her hand, holes puncture through your lungs. And right on command, you’re leaking. She’s lapping your cock in circles, slow and agonizing, taking every little drop of precum seeping. You can only tremble beneath her, utterly defenseless. “Remembering when I was tapping your foot with my heel earlier tonight?”
She leaves you in such a dizzying spiral that you can’t even look directly at her, let alone formulate a reply. Meanwhile, her eyes remain fixed on you, doe-eyed with innocence, yet her actions are cruel. Breathing proves to be a struggle, let alone returning with a response. “What about it?”
“I wanted you to follow me to the bathroom. And I wanted you to fuck me in there.”
Honest to God, that was not the first thought on your mind. If anything, the presence of many proved to be the ideal shield in keeping yourself away from Hyewon. Losing best actor was the greatest blessing in disguise, as it meant you didn’t have to look straight into her magnetic eyes during your theoretical speech and make an embarrassment of yourself in front of hundreds in attendance, and millions watching on television.
Now that you’re in bed with no way to escape, you can only accept your fate.
“I’m not the best at reading the room,” you comment, sheepishly shaking your head.
“Not surprising, honestly,” she says, rewarding your candor with a kiss—on your tip. Then another. More heartwarming than arousing, if anything. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dork?”
“Not the first time I’ve heard it from a girl,” you say, in an attempt to show some wit, only to be met with a stiff grip on your cock. “Ah—fuck—”
A bit more force and Hyewon could break you in half with her mere hand alone. She’s cold, calculating, and cruel. Her expression seems apathetic, yet deep down, you can tell she’s having so much fun toying and teasing you, stealing what little semblance of willpower you have. And to think she’s this demure, sometimes funny celebrity with a certain image that’s universally admired by many.
Behind that gaze, she’s thinking of more ways to further ruin you.
“I don’t think a dork like you has been with other girls,” she remarks, leaning forward to tease a kiss, only to leave you dry. “But looking at this cock—”
She stops to admire your shaft once more. Ultimately, she can’t help herself. She has to give your tip another ceremonious flick with her parched tongue in appreciation. Two, actually. If she doesn’t stop, you’ll soon be deep in her throat, and you know she’s not letting you go. Thankfully, she finally regains sight of what she wants in the first place.
Lifting herself ever so slightly, Hyewon takes a deep breath—then slowly melts into you.
It’s a car crash you can’t look away from. It’s inevitable, but you’re completely powerless to stop her. You can only groan in agony as your bodies intertwine, creating a union that only she can break. Inch by inch, you helplessly watch as Hyewon slowly takes you into her suffocating heat. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: vicious, intense, and painful.
It doesn’t help that she’s taking her sweet time, keeping you on edge for what may as well be an eternity, bracing for the certain explosion she’s going to leave in her wake.
“Oh—fuck—it’s so perfect,” Hyewon throws her head back, her jaw dropping slow, every word delivered in a near-inaudible sigh. Eventually, she buries herself in you deep to the hilt—and she keens. “That—that’s it—that’s the fucking spot—”
Your hands cling to her waist, your maw similarly agape, breathing tensely as the pleasure slowly courses through your muscles. “God—you’re fucking tight—”
She hums in return, satisfied by your response, before losing herself in the sensation of your cock impaling her—and she begins to move.
As you fight the urge to cum right then and there, Hyewon slowly lifts herself off your lap, your cock reappearing with a fresh coat of her drenched pussy, before sinking back down. She rips the breath right from your lungs, while you’re forced to shut your eyes. Anything to keep your brain firing as the pleasure rushing throughout your body sends you into overdrive.
You’re an outlet of ecstasy, a conduit for her to loosen all her pent-up frustration and lust. Her palms grip to your thighs, keeping you in place—as if you’re in any condition to move anywhere except for her whim. She’s crashing into you at a punishing pace as a result of keeping yourself away for so long. And she’s being open about it too: “Why did it take us so long—ugh—”
You can only moan back. Truthfully, you’re wondering the same thing too.
As your eyes alternate between wide open and completely shut, you catch glimpses of Hyewon using every inch of you to fill her wanton pussy with cock. When she’s not cursing or screaming your name, her moans fill your ears with sweet, sultry music. It’s a sound not of her high class image. She’s riding you like it’s life or death, like her heart will stop beating if her cunt isn’t being stretched out.
With every bounce, so do her breasts. Up and down, settling into a rhythm, forming a hypnotic motion that your eyes get lost in. Your obsession reaches a point to where the movement of her tits stirs you on, reigniting your tired muscles. You can’t lie there and be a helpless viewer any longer.
And so, you meet Hyewon halfway, matching the grind of her hips with your thrust at the apex, setting her alight. This particular stroke. The hot sensation. It utterly shatters her. Her voice cracks. She trembles violently, giving you breathing room to sit upward and lean close to her chest.
So while she staggers back, overwhelmed by your cock spearing her cunt, you go down on her succulent breasts, squishing your face between them. Despite having Hyewon’s body all to yourself, the friction between your bodies creates this wracking storm that drives you insane. It isn’t enough that you’re feasting on her tits, that her boobs are bouncing so hard it’s downright pornographic, and that she’s screaming her heart out in response to each stroke. This will be headline news tomorrow. Yet, none of that is your concern. You have to pour everything into her. It’s now or never.
“Fuck yes—oh fuck—fucking take me—fuck—” Hyewon’s riding your cock, forcing all the air out your lungs, rendering you speechless. Doesn’t matter, you’re drowning in her slick and her tits, pounding away with twice the effort. She’s swearing through her tongue like she’s a cop in a crime picture, biting down on her lip in a flimsy attempt to restrain herself, but anyone with a good ear nearby could have easily identified her voice through the four walls of this hotel room. Knowing her, it’s intentional. She’s determined to put you through a world of trouble, leaving you with no other choice but to shut her up.
And you’re going to do just that.
You end up yanking her by the waist as your bodies repeatedly collide with each other. Each impact the equivalent of a cosmic explosion, the aftermath echoing through the room. The sound of skin slapping skin fills your ears louder than what it seems in the movies. Sex with Hyewon is much, much better than in your fantasies. Here’s another thing that can’t be found on camera: her soft pleas begging you to keep going, interlaced between harsh whines and airy moans that can’t be faked.
“God, I’m gonna fucking cum, Hyewon.” There you go, your silly side showing at such a serious moment. Everyone knows you don’t proclaim your impending climax. Rookie mistake. You’re not shooting a porno, but you might as well be with how hard you’re fucking her. She can’t help but cackle even as you relentlessly pound into her cunt. What should be a moment of weakness immediately gets brushed aside as you hold her when she slams down, and you finally fall apart.
Impaling your cock hilt deep inside Hyewon, you’re digging your palms deep into her soft flesh, unwilling to let go. She rests her head beside yours as you blast her with thick, warm cum. Her prolonged, saccharine-sounding moan is nothing compared to the loaded groan that ripples through the room. The supplication she makes, demanding you to fill her with every little drop goes through deaf ears. Your dick seems to have heard it loud and clear, though. The amount you’re filling her is enough to rip through her body violently too. She follows with her own peak afterwards, hitting a previously unheard octave higher, your bodies finally melting into one.
Just like that, she’s clinging to you like you’re her personal life support, completely drained of all her strength.
The ecstasy lasts for a brief moment. The fall off happens too soon for your liking. Like her, you’re sapped of energy and you fall down to earth with Hyewon in your arms. The end comes—not with grandiose drama or spectacle, but by a calm, uneventful stir.
You should be done at this point. It’s been a long day. You’ve been up as early as sunrise, spent hours behind makeup and measuring tape for a suit you won’t wear more than once. Smiling comes natural, if not downright fake; in front of the cameras, on the red carpet, on screen, and even during the afterparties. Every time you step out in public, there’s an image, a reputation to uphold. You’ve done this a dozen times in the past few months alone, bearing a lifetime’s worth of and it never gets more comfortable or easier. It’s a miracle you haven’t cracked or had a public breakdown, even though your mind is calling for it.
And yet, all that labor and agony is worth it for what you have now. The awards, the recognition, the adoration—but most especially the girl. What are you now, taken out of a story. One that feels all too familiar and done to death, but it never grows old or tired.
By all accounts, it should be a happy ending.
Except you’re not done. You’re not satisfied, and so is Hyewon. Even though she’s settling down in your embrace, resting her head against your heartbeats, mumbling these sweet nothings about how much you’ve ruined her and fucked her to shreds, she’s quietly begging for more. It isn’t about keeping a sanctimonious image anymore; it’s about how far you’ll push her and use her. Your throbbing cock buried inside her cunt says it too.
If there’s anything you’ve learned about acting, it’s that one take isn’t enough.
Like a damsel in distress, you scoop Hyewon into your arms. Through what you might consider a second wind, you carry her into the bathroom again on wobbly legs, stepping into the shower, showing that you’re ready to take your relationship a step further. You’ll hash out the details in the morning—if she hasn’t left by then.
The sound of running water serves as background for the airy, lewd noises that quickly fill the shower.
Hyewon feels incredibly soft to touch. Pliable in your grasp, like a doll to bend, twist, and use at your whim. You’re squeezing her flesh, fondling her mounds tightly till you’re seeing red everywhere. Her tits, her shapely ass, and everything in between. Kissing down her body, giving every little part its much needed attention. You’ve fucked her to pieces, yes, but she’s still housing a divine figure that deserves the same level of praise.
With two fingers stroking at her cunt, she’s keening, her head tilted up to meet the relentless downpour rushing down over your bodies. Her voice is in tatters after an hour of tireless screaming, in addition to all the mindless chatter from earlier tonight. Part of you wishes to have taken up her offer. Something this good shouldn’t be kept secret, but you’re more than selfish enough to keep Hyewon all to yourself.
Your raging impulse gets the better of you, and you slap her tits from behind. She yelps a cry of pain and pleasure. The recoil and sound activates something in your brain like a sleeper agent. You do it a second time, then a third. You stop counting after, indulging yourself in the satisfying noise of her mounds smacked over and over, every squeal, every strike equally as gratifying as your cock slamming into her pussy. She’s clinging to the walls as a respite, her body shuddering vigorously, but you don’t give her a moment to breathe. It’s what she would have wanted: to be used and taken like a ragdoll.
Hyewon screams again when you swing her around, lifting one leg around your waist, and slam your cock inside her. No pleasantries, no talking through the process—only a desire to fuck. Burying your face against her neck, growling into her skin like a ravenous beast, you hammer away without care for neither your comfort nor hers. You’re counting the hours, minutes, seconds before she disappears from your life, and you’re gonna make sure that years from now, she remembers this night in particular.
You’re too engrossed to see her expressions twist in impossible ways that average humans can make. But that’s the point: Hyewon is no ordinary person. She’s one actress, something that can be found in others who are more talented and have more resounding qualities, but more than that, to you, she’s everything. The clench of her cunt on your cock continues to invigorate you and push you further. With every thrust, she jumps and sends aftershocks coursing through your veins. God, you love how incredibly well she fucking takes it, and the slightest tilt of her lips struggling to form a grin reinforce this. You’ve got nothing else to say, really; you easily lose yourself in your own lust, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
It doesn’t take too long before you feel it again. The end. It’s approaching faster than you can react. You knew it wasn’t going to be a drawn out affair, but you’re so desperate to reach that high, no matter how brief it may be. It was too good to pass up, and you’re beyond waiting a second more.
You’d give everything up for even a single minute longer, but the period of bargaining has long passed you by.
“Gonna cum again—fuck—” is all you can muster, your first words after a long while. Her pussy feels so good to form coherent words. Lust has utterly consumed your brain more than anything. The entire time, Hyewon’s mewling, keening in every direction, trying to find purchase on the walls or the shower door, only to fall a few inches short. She ends up coming back to you, hanging on for dear life. You’ve never let up, terrified that she’ll magically disappear into nothing at any second.
Acting fast, as if you’ve got a ticking bomb in hand, you draw your cock out, coated in a thick sheen of your own cum and hers, pumping yourself with a few strokes of your hand until you finally explode. The shower washes down the milky white blot you’re unloading on her skin, never leaving a permanent mark. It does, however, bring you back to the place that began your undoing.
The tattoo on her rib.
Water wipes the cum blocking the view. Despite those same five words occupying your mind for the last few hours, it still hits like a fresh revelation. You hear her voice repeating them inside your head as you come to your senses, your lust being satiated—for now. Even when Hyewon is completely broken before you, reduced to a quiet pile of flesh. One hand on the surrounding wall, the other in limbo, her leg still coiled around your waist, forcing oxygen into her tired lungs wherever she can.
With the ‘quick’ shower done, and after hardly any cleaning was made, you carry her back to the bedroom.
You don’t even make it past the living room before your legs finally give up. You end up crashing onto the floor together before you both finally call it a night.
—————
“This is your fault you know,” says Hyewon, drawing circles on your chest, over your calm heartbeats. “I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow for my table read. And yet I’m still here. My flight was five hours ago by the way.”
It’s already high noon when you finally regain consciousness, your head still spinning despite not taking more than one alcoholic drink the night before. Hyewon’s doing marginally better, having woken up 30 minutes earlier. No wonder it feels so hot; her body is snuggled up on you, your limbs tangled. Despite the urgency she’s speaking about, she doesn’t seem to be interested in moving any time soon.
At least you’re awake and sensible enough to fire back. “Who’s fault is that? I wasn’t the one inviting you to come over and have you fucked senseless.”
She chuckles into your skin, little ripples forming where her lips are gently pressed. “And I wasn’t the one who spent the last 18 months saying we’re just friends.”
You’re already lying flat on the floor, but the rebuttal only makes you want to get up only to fall back down. So you settle with an expressive sigh.
Hyewon laughs. It’s what won over millions, including you. You’re taken back to that fateful day you first met. Right then and there, you knew there’d be no one else like her. If given an opportunity to go back and change a few things here and there or, you’d do it over again, mistakes included. Last night was worth all the waiting and teasing.
“So—about that show,” you lean up, pushing her closer to your face, “What was it again? Something about you being a nymphomaniac? Delete what?”
“You mean Delete This? Let’s not.”
Mention of the premise alone is enough to set her gummy cheeks on fire. For someone whose career has been built up on mostly more general audience friendly programming, leading a sexual soap opera is quite the jump.
She buries her head on your neck, embarrassed, feeling guilty. “Yeah. I mean, last night was—different, you know? I’ve shown my tits and body already, but I’ve never had sex—on screen before.”
You should have known. She needed a reason to get in your pants without your working relationship only centering around your bodies. And those were clearly stand-ins based on how her face is never shown during her older scenes.
“Jesus, Hyem. If you wanted to have sex, you could have asked anytime. You have no idea how annoyed I was when they scrapped our scene last minute. It was only you taking off your shirt too.”
“On the bright side, we didn’t have an intimacy director getting in the way, right?”
She does have a point. Still, your personal cold war didn’t need to last 18 months before either of you would make the first move.
But with all that tension a thing of the past, the chains are unfettered. Now both of you have the ability to take this little secret in any direction you desire. You could simply be a workplace couple; it’s been the story of your year so far. Or you could take things a step further. The possibilities are truly endless.
Hyewon’s cheeky grin slowly reforms, her hand snaking up to cup your cheek. “Shame we only had one night. I could spend the rest of the day here, but—” she huffs, “I’m running late. Too bad I won’t get to have this cock for a long, long time.”
You lift an amused eyebrow, barely able to keep your new cockiness from showing. “Will you, though?”
She’s taken completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Check your phone.”
After rising to her feet, Hyewon walks over to the console table where her purse is set. Fishing her phone from the handbag, she scrolls through the apps, her attention di–vided between the screen and you on the floor, finally getting up as well.
Her stare then lingers on the phone, as if whatever headline of the day has caught her attention.
Next thing you know, she’s grabbing you by the chest, dragging you back to the bedroom before shoving you back onto the mattress—right where you belong. Pinning you down and dead to rights, Hyewon mounts herself on your lap, your cock pressed against her aching core, ready to receive a fresh beating.
Some jokes can go a little too far.
“You fucking asshole. You mean that—”
“Yep.”
“And it’s not—”
“It’s not.”
You can feel her hips slowly grinding against yours. You’re gonna love—and hate—the next 18 months with Hyewon.
“I’m going to kill you. And I mean: kill you.”
“No better way to go out.”
—————
(A/N: Thank you for the commission! That Hyewon dress is so ripe for material, and I had to incorporate her tattoos into it somehow. She doesn't show them quite often—heck, she hasn't publicly addressed them even once, I believe. That little nod at the end is for everyone still waiting for Delete this to return. At this point, a reimagining or remake must happen first before the next actual episode because good God my writing back then versus now is night & day. Even comparing the last update from 2022(?) to today is also radically different in style. I'm still interested in reviving it; it's just a matter of when, not if. Thank you for reading!)
779 notes
·
View notes
Note
can i request some slutty luffy? just fuck me up fam ☠️
AHH i think this is so beautiful and one of my fav smuts i’ve written!!! :’)
hunger - luffy x f!reader
smut
summary: luffy gets incredibly horny, and he’s confusing lust with hunger
contains: mating press, praise, marking (reader receiving)
words: 2.4k
_______________________________
Luffy’s alone. He thinks, right now, of touch. And his body is sweaty from the day and from his yearning mind, he’s shirtless because an hour ago he lit on fire beneath his skin, he’s been simmering ever since, and it’s healed, somehow, by touch. So his fingers dig into the grooves of his abs, he likes to feel them flex and shift as he traces every corner, mouth open, drooling onto the glass of the porthole. He left his bed an hour ago when he lit on fire beneath his skin. His blanket became too hot, his mind too full to fall asleep. He’s thinking about food now, juicy fruits that drip down his throat, melted cheese, the greasy, fatty pieces of steak that slide so slowly along his tongue.
He rubs his stomach because he’s hungry, that’s it. There’s a burning within him, starvation but if it was beautiful. He needs food right now but he knows, somehow, that food won’t do anything for him, not really. And if he rubs his stomach because he’s hungry then why does his hand go lower, down beneath his waistline, tugging at the hair down there because, why? Why does this feel good? Why is he moaning, little whimpers that fog the glass, what does he need? He thinks of touch. Skin on skin. That’s it, skin on skin.
You’re probably alone. Moonbeams sail one by one from the east with the wind and blackening sky as the sunset turns lilac, fading, gold waves turning silver, copper. Translucent silk the color of the sunset hangs from your shoulders, a slip so loose it barely covers your chest. It isn’t cold tonight and you’re not tired. You saw dolphins this evening and you wonder if you can see them again before the water disappears in the night. Everyone else is already asleep. You hope that when you’re tired you can find Luffy, who’s probably asleep, and curl up with him as everything drifts away.
But as the ocean laps at the ship and you’re calmed by the gentle rocking you feel, suddenly, arms from behind. Arms that run over yours, hands massaging your wrists up to your shoulders. A distinct smell, the feeling of hot rubber, this is Luffy and he’s so, so warm. And his breathing is so heavy in your ear. He places his chin on your shoulder and it’s covered in drool, he begins to slowly lick your neck as he pulls you closer. You haven’t even said hi before he has you in his lap, squeezing your waist from behind. His licks turn to kisses, and then to bites, all over your upper back and then a wet, raw trail up to your jaw. He’s groaning with want, no words yet, he has too many things he wants to say.
“Hi Luffy,” you murmur with a little smile, reaching back to pet his face which is burning up and flushed. His tongue laps your cheek, he’s an excited puppy, you feel his teeth now so you ask gently, “what’s up?”
“Gonna eat you,” he says in a quiet, gravely voice, right into your ear. He whines after this in desire, in hunger, he’s lustful and desperate.
“Yeah?” You lean back against him. His arms are so tight, he’s trying to wrap you up and crush you like a python. And you can feel his heartbeat race in every muscle.
“Mh, ‘cause you’re real pretty. And I’m hungry so I’m gonna eat you.” He’s almost trying to take a bite out of your neck now, his teeth are sharp but his tongue is soothing, he moans because he likes the flavor. “Real pretty…” he hisses again beneath his breath.
You turn so you’re facing him. He needs a kiss right now and he doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and dive in, writhing tongue slipping greedily between your lips. And there’s a gentleness here too, his hand moves to the back of your head, stroking your hair adoringly. He isn’t going to hurt you he just needs you so, so bad and he doesn’t really know how or why or what he should say.
“God, Luffy.” You’re quiet, muffled by his mouth. And just hearing your voice again clouds his mind.
“Love ya, love ya so much,” he says in between moans and kisses. His nails scrape at your chest, delighted by softness, something to grab onto, more to squeeze. “I wanna play, please can we play?”
Trying to get on top of you he’s leaning over you and pulled by instinct, he wants you straddling him but he wants to be on top at the same time. He’s just a tangle of limbs right now, saliva dripping messily onto your neck.
“Of course I’ll play with you.” You’re blushing, eyes closing but he’s squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him, huge sparkling eyes as deep as the Mariana look down on you.
Luffy begins to laugh. Just a breathy giggle at first, blowing air between his teeth in a little joyful hiss. And then his mouth opens, he laughs more, louder, that’s what he does when he’s excited and when he knows he’s about to get something that he wants so, so bad. And then it fades to giggles again, and he stills for a moment, no movement except his chest. Rise and fall, rise and fall. He’s just looking at you.
And then he licks his lips. He dives in.
You make a small sound, surprised and unable to react in time, as Luffy plants his feet firmly on the deck, your thighs slamming his stomach as your legs are thrown over his shoulders. And you’re bent, folding tighter and tighter as Luffy crouches over you. His arms encircle your legs and your back and your waist and constrict again, his legs are spread and ready, twitching, hips pressing yours. He’s forgetting, probably, that you aren’t as flexible as he is.
“This is good, Lu, this right here,” you manage to choke out because you often have to remind him what your body can and can’t take.
He mumbles a little apology and does a once over with his eyes, he wants to make sure that you aren’t hurt but, at the same time, he’s letting his gaze linger on your body, on the silk slip that’s fallen as your waist curls upwards and your breasts are bare now, so delicious, he’s drooling again. You’re tasty, you’re his.
This must take so much strength, the way he’s perched on his toes over your body, his thigh muscles clench and ripple against yours. Shared sweat, shared warmth. His balance is perfect even as he reaches for your chest, rubbing, holding, kissing, now he’s kissing your lips, now your neck. He doesn’t want this ever to be over.
And he says, “I love ya so much.” That’s the third time he’s said it.
“I love you too,” you say with such joy even as you’re breathless still, but before you can finish he’s pressing his mouth to yours hungrily. You said you loved him and he wants to taste it — the flavor of those words — it’s all-consuming.
“Tastes so good, mmh,” Luffy gasps as he takes you into this hot, wet kiss, “can’t wait, wanna play now.”
You’re not sure how he did it from this position, but his pants are off, kicked to the side. His cock is aching and leaking already and smoldering against your stomach, you can see it from here, throbbing and waiting, skin so smooth and thin and perfect like auburn moth wings over red-hot iron.
His chest crashes against yours in a tidal wave now because this new vulnerability makes him want to be closer. Now you can’t see it anymore but god, it’s so hard it feels like he’s denting you, so long and thick like a python, he’s still holding you, and squeezing more and more. Like a python.
With so much pressure he wraps his hands around lower, lower, snapping your panties, thrusting against your stomach in a way that shakes your body but he’s got you. You’re in his arms.
Begging eyes so close to yours, mouth on your lips and cheek, breathing so fast and so warm and he whispers, “can I?” And it’s so scratchy and kind and needy so deep in his throat.
So you pull his hair, you kiss him, yes.
Rolling back on his heels he finds his way, sloppy thrusts that don’t quite make it but god when they do, he isn’t going all the way even though his every nerve craves you but you’re his baby and he can’t hurt you.
Thick tip so soft and gentle, butterfly wings and flowers, impossibly hard and aching in heartbeat rhythms against your clit, moving you with every pulse, searching and desperate like a moth to a flame he finds you.
Shivers that make you clench your legs against his shoulders as he rubs and rubs back and forth and hugs your body and bites your cheek and murmurs, “that feel good? Ya like that?” with such curiosity like he really wants to know, he wants an answer.
“Perfect, so perfect. Please, I need you.” Words in his ear like shooting stars lighting up his body like the darkening sky. He’s made of ochre sunbeams.
He smiles and laughs and with another quick kiss he’s finding you more. Muscles flex and as he leans forward onto you he’s there, right there. He starts to moan loudly and whisper about how happy he is but it’s Luffy so it’s not a whisper, really. He’s not even inside you yet. He’s just so, so excited.
“Feels so good, so good. C’mere,” he giggles against you happily and makes sure he holds you as he’s pushing into your body, you’re filled in an instant and more and more every second.
Amid the panting and moaning you can almost hear that heartbeat and those pulsing veins buried in you. You’re dented again but from the inside now. With a little mh, Luffy finds his home so, so deep. You’re in a cocoon of warmth, wrapped in the sun, filled by the sun, melting.
“My girl’s so pretty, gotta bite, gonna bite.” Those teeth again and their practiced, hungry chewing. He swallows on instinct, abs vibrating and tightening against your skin as his stomach purs. And he’s rocking into you, back and forth on his toes, enjoying that deep, tight massage. He’s inside you, he’s trying to eat you, trying to get you inside him, too.
You’re going to be covered in marks but that’s ok. You like hearing him groan and laugh against you, and something about that swallowing, his throat flexing against your shoulder, that’s so beautiful to feel.
“Mine, ‘kay? Mine.” Luffy’s talking the whole time through his laughter and you’re swept away by him as he continues to crush your body from the inside over and over, tidal waves on a cliff’s edge, he makes whirlpools in you.
“This is so fun, you’re so fun, so pretty,” he keeps huffing and you hear this over and over as he squirms and wriggles on your body, thrusts shallower because he can’t bear to pull out of you any more than he needs to. Luffy wants to be close and never leave.
He tries to have conversations with you that just spill into unending praise. You’re too dizzy and lost in this world of feeling to respond most of the time but you kiss him whenever he wants, you tell him he’s beautiful and that he feels so good whenever your voice is there.
He’s swelling in you, veins bulging and rubbing so far up inside you that you feel him throbbing in your stomach, his twitching cock encouraged by your clenching, leaking, every muscle wracked with craving and overstimulation.
“Gonna fill you up ‘cause you’re real pretty,” he laughs against your lips, twisting into you deeper still, “gotta make ya all mine.” He still sounds so sweet and so soft, just a playful little puppy.
Even as he groans and begins to pump you full.
Love feels like this, love is raw and endless like this, love makes you float away. You close your eyes and now he lets you, you just hold him, you let the rhythm carry you and it feels like so long until he’s done. He doesn’t want to pull away but his legs give out. His knees finally hit the deck, he squeals in delight as he’s pulled from you with a wet little sound. But he’s still hugging you, of course.
“Heh, felt so good.” Luffy’s smiling with all his teeth, his chin sparkles with saliva, and your neck is dripping too, “thanks, darlin’. Love ya so much”
“Love you too. I love you, Luffy.” You don’t want to ever leave from his arms and you feel so empty now. But you’re soaked in him, neck and thighs both shining.
His hand rests gently on your back, helping you sit up, your slip falls back down over your body and it’s all wrinkled now. Luffy smooths your hair, he pets you, now is when he just wants to stare at you and not say a word. But when he sees the blooming red and purple trailing from your ear to your collarbone he starts to shake a little bit.
“Aw, this ain’t hurtin’ right?” he murmurs, tracing the bruises and teeth marks with his fingers so softly, carefully. There’s no blood, it’s just glossy with layers of drool, he’s proud but he needs to check on you first.
“No, it’s not bad. Don’t worry, I like it.” You kiss him right next to his mouth but he turns, quickly, because he wants your lips. “Whole crew’s gonna know I’m yours, that’s all.”
This makes him smile. He sees no reason for embarrassment or shame, you’re his so he can bite you when he wants. You feel his muscles twitch against you again as he laughs. And he’s flushed all red, hibiscus on his warm honey skin. Those eyes, dark brown eyes melting with that lavender of the sunset which is almost gone now, fading silently. So orchid blue then, on loving, deep Bulgarian rose.
“Good! I want ‘em to.” he rubs his head against your cheek, still biting just a little. And now he’s moving like he wants to pick you up and carry you, even though you’re both tired. But it’s because he’s hungry, and in that throaty little voice he asks, “wanna go get snacks?”
#blushing rn#luffy x reader#one piece#luffy#one piece x reader#one piece fanfiction#luffy x y/n#one piece smut#luffy smut#luffy x reader smut#luffy x f!reader
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
derision as prelude to desire | Spencer Reid
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Waldorf!Reader
Category: smut 18+ MDNI, fluff if you squint
Summary: Spencer Reid’s new coworker is mean but one night doing overtime together leads to the two of them bonding.
Content: glasses!Spencer, workplace rivals if you squint, Spencer Reid vs technology, reader is kind of mean and based on Blair Waldorf (in background, looks, and personality), Spencer is petty, his mind is in the GUTTER, use of eye drops, making out, sub!Spencer, fingering, oral (male receiving), whining and begging glasses!Spencer. Let’s pretend the BAU doesn’t have any CCTV cameras for this one m’kay thanks
Word count: 3.6k
A/N: This is an ITCH in my brain, like I’ve been thinking about a Spencer Reid x Blair Waldorf crackship since August last year it’s actually concerning. One of my favorite ship dynamics is loser boy x popular girl, so it makes sense. Still in second person to make it immersive. This isn’t a crossover, so there will be no spoilers for Gossip Girl. The reader's personality, looks and background are just based on Blair. Let me know if you want to read more of this dynamic because I have so many ideas for it oh my god. I hope you enjoy it!
Spencer Reid often muses on the series of events that had brought you from the streets of the Upper East Side to work in Quantico, Virginia. It would be easy to ask, of course, or even have Penelope do a quick background check on you, but he’s made a game of it instead, piecing together what he knows of your history, filling in the blanks of what would have gone wrong, what decisions you would have taken, in order to leave the privileged life you led and enter public service.
As far as he had been concerned, you don’t belong anywhere near the FBI, let alone the BAU. Spoiled, rich, with a mean streak he is all too familiar with from his time in school.
He had been so sure you wouldn’t fit in when you first joined the team. You had been, and continue to be, perfectly made, every single hair shiny and curled just so, heels always so shiny and matching whatever designer bag you have slung over your shoulder. Everything about you screams high maintenance, and his profiler instincts point to several things: uncooperative, wants everything handed to you, ditzy.
But then you had shown your cards, had proved his assessment so wrong and he could never forgive you for the sting of that defeat.
It doesn’t help that you seem to enjoy riling him up as well. Every case is an opportunity to one up him, an attempt to claim his spot and it’s unfair. You already have everything, yet you still refuse to yield the title of team genius to him, the one thing he can cling to, the thing he knows is his.
He is still glowering today, four months into your employment, passive aggressively hitting the keys on his keyboard. He’s a slow typist, and he’d agreed to write Morgan’s reports for him this week, a favor between friends he’s now beginning to regret. You are the only one keeping him company. The rest of the team has already left hours ago, but you’re typing away at your desk, fingers flying through the keyboard without even a glance. His own skills seem laughable in comparison, going at the keys one by one, with the speed of an old grandparent squinting over a typewriter instead of a man in his twenties.
“Take a picture, Reid, it’ll last longer.”
He blinks, forcing his eyes back to the monitor. “You’re so original.” he mutters, pushing his glasses up to nestle on top of his head. He rubs his eyes, already despising the glare of the screen.
“Aw, what, the genius can’t handle a little blue light?”
He doesn’t bother with a response, blinking at the screen instead. The sooner he can get this done, the sooner he can leave. Sounds of tapping keys fill the air again, but he stops after a few moments again, rubbing at his eyes. He hears a sigh, and then your voice again, haughty but somehow concerned.
“You’re not supposed to rub your eyes, it makes it worse.”
“I know,” he grumbles, “I don’t need you lecturing me about the importance of eye health.”
“It seems like you do, since you’re still doing it.” you reply derisively. He’d be rolling his eyes if he isn’t too busy rubbing them.
“Here,” you say, “Catch.”
Confused, he lifts his head, only to flinch as something hurls right at him. “What-” it hits his desk, then bounces off.
“Oh, look what you’ve done, genius.”
“You threw it at me.” his lips are pulled into a tight line of disapproval, “A head’s up would have been nice.”
“I did, genius, I said catch. You just have the reflexes of an eighty year old.” your voice is tinged with annoyance.
To his surprise, you’re up and walking to his desk, heels echoing in the empty bullpen. He watches as you gingerly kneel on the ground, bending down, and his eyes grow wide. The image of you bent down like this is surprisingly enticing, your skirt straining against the soft curve of your hips, hair falling down your shoulders like a curtain of the night sky. You’ve gotten close enough that he can smell your perfume, something citrusy and clean, and he subconsciously leans closer.
Mouth dry, he manages to croak out, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find the damn eye drops.” you snap, an arm extending towards him and for a moment he holds his breath, waiting for contact. Instead, you grab something from the ground, “There it is.”
He watches as you straighten, lifting your torso upright, but still kneeling in front of him. An image flashes through his mind, your face between his thighs, those large eyes staring up at him, but he banishes it quickly lest his thoughts begin to stir his body.
“Here, these should help.” You say, finally standing back up and placing the tiny bottle on his desk. A filthy part of him wishes you’d get back on your knees. He catches the tilt of your head, the confusion in your eyes, “Reid. Are you still with me? Has your brain finally short circuited from all those statistics?”
Oh his brain is short circuiting, all right, just from a different cause.
“I’m - yeah.” he replies, and then he rattles off the first thought his frazzled mind could come up with, “Did you know some people have used eye drops as a method for murder? Not these ones, but there are specific brands that contain—”
“Tetrahydrozoline,” you finish for him, “Yeah, I know.”
He blinks. There you go again, proving your intellect, your value, somehow matching his even though he’s pretty sure you are no genius, not in the same way he is. Still, perhaps it’s the late night, or your offer of relief, but the sting of being bested doesn’t resonate tonight. A softer feeling unfurls in his chest, something warm and addictive, something like understanding. He smiles, “That’s right.”
You nod, curls spilling over your shoulders again, “Mhm. Well… These are for your eyes, I’m not trying to poison you.”
“Wouldn’t put it past you.”
A scoff, “Please, I’m not dumb enough to attempt murder in the office.”
His brows lift and he finds himself grinning, “So you’ve thought about it?”
“I will neither deny nor confirm.” you’re smiling now too, and he lets his eyes roam over the pretty lines of your face, memorizing how lovely you look in this moment, guards lowered and smiling at him with ease. He thinks he sees something flash in those pretty eyes of yours but he’s not sure. Reading people has never been his strong suit, regardless of his profession.
“Come on, I’ll help you.” you gesture at his glasses, and he immediately obeys, pushing it back up to nestle on his hair. He holds his breath as you come closer, bites his lips when your hand comes to his chin. It’s soft, unbelievably gentle, and you tilt his head back. From this angle, he can see the way your lashes curl, the soft hint of shimmer swept across your lids. Eyeshadow, he remembers from what Penelope and JJ have told him, and it highlights the shape of your eyes, making them appear brighter.
He blinks as coolness hits his eye, and then you’re tilting his head to the other side, and he’s trying not to panic, trying not to be a creep, but in reality, he hasn’t been this close, this intimate to a woman in so long that it’s messing up his ability to inhale, to think, to function. Your hair flutters gently around his face, and the scent of citrus is stronger now, heady, and he feels so light headed he’s afraid he’ll faint.
The same coolness hits the other eye, and before you can pull away, before he can think it through, he’s curling his own hand over your wrist. He lifts it up, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm, admonishing any thoughts of germs and bacteria, and instead relishing at the tender flesh beneath his lips. He kisses your palm again, lips gently tracing the lines, before moving down to the inside of your wrist, before pausing.
He dares to peer up, waiting for a reprimand, a cutting sentence that would have him lashing back at you, but there’s none. There it is again, the flicker in your eyes, and now he finally knows the word to attach to it: desire.
He kisses the inside of your wrist again, and feels you pulse fluttering beneath his lips. Fast, to his surprise, almost matching the quick succession of thudding in his chest.
“Reid,” you whisper, and he waits again, allows you time to pull away. You don’t, but he’s apprehensive now, afraid he’s crossed a boundary. He definitely has, but he would do it again if you express the desire to do so, to tumble into whatever this is with him. He just needs confirmation, one verbal acknowledgement that you want this too, because he doesn’t trust his ability to read you yet, not when he’s spent so much time despising you.
But you’re just looking at him, and the embarrassment is almost painful. His cheeks heat up, and he drops your hand.
“I’m sorry.” he murmurs, sinking back on his seat. He’s about to turn to his monitor, intent to forget about this, forget everything even though his memory would make that impossible, but he finds his face being tilted up again, cradled between impossibly soft hands, and then there’s lips against his own, your lips, oh god you are kissing him.
He wraps his arms around your waist, following the movement of your mouth to the best of his limited ability. Your teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lets out an involuntary whimper, his body jerking at the sting. He feels you smiling against his mouth, cocky even in the midst of a kiss, in the midst of the most heated kiss he’s had since - since - he can’t even remember her, the brief dalliance he had with an actress once upon a time, because all he can think of is your mouth, and your hands, nails scratching at his scalp, and every single thought is expelled from his mind when you climb on his lap.
“God,” he moans in between kisses, his breaths ragged, but he would gladly drown in you before stopping.
“Not god,” you correct him and nip at his lower lip with more force this time.
“Mhm.” he whines, and kisses you again, shifting so you’re more comfortable on his lap. He wonders if the chair is creaking from your combined weight, but then you’re grinding directly on his cock and he’s lost in a haze of white hot pleasure.
Apparently, Spencer Reid cannot multitask, because his lips fall slack as you grind against his hardening cock. Your laughter tinkles in his ear, before your mouth latches on his jaw, down his neck, open and wet and sticky. He knows you said you aren’t god, and he’s never been religious, but he swears this must be heaven. Fitting too, in the same way he’s never thought he’d reach some place he doesn’t even believe in, he’s also never thought he would have you—beautiful, infuriating, untouchable you—grinding on his lap with a desperation that borders frenzy.
Recognizing that your need burns you just as his is making him reckless, he manages to whisper, “Tell me— tell me what to do. How do I make you feel good?”
You giggle, taking one of his hands away from your waist and leading it under your skirt. The fabric has bunched up over your thighs, and he grips the smooth flesh greedily. But you have other ideas, and he’s eager to learn, so he lets you move his hand higher, until the tips of his fingers brush against moist fabric.
His mouth goes dry. You’ve soaked through your panties.
“Like this?” he dips his fingers past the lace, his mouth falling open at the slick that’s gathered at your core. You have your face buried at his neck, lips and tongue still assaulting the tender skin there, but he feels you nod, feels the shudder that runs through you, and he takes those as a good sign. His touch is exploratory, gentle, fueled by an intoxication over the fact that you’re here and you’re enjoying it, you’re making those sounds for him.
He’s awestruck rather than cocky, and when he slides his fingers into your pussy, he’s immediately trying to figure out a rhythm that would draw out those pretty noises from your lips. When he finds it, he sticks to it, greedily drinking in your moans, no matter how muffled they are against his neck.
There’s a sense of degeneracy to this whole thing. Fingering his coworker in the office, right there on his desk, he could get fired should this get out, they both could. Still, he’s never truly had anyone want him so unabashedly and he simply cannot stop. You had been the one to kiss him, after all, the lines in the sand had been completely trampled by the time you had climbed on his lap.
“You feel so good,” you whisper, and he feels you move, riding his hand shamelessly, and he has to bite your shoulder to keep himself from whining again. The sight alone nearly undoes him, and you’ve barely done anything. He’s been actively providing you with stimulation this whole time, fucking you with his fingers relentlessly, and somehow, he wouldn’t change a single thing.
“Yeah?” he asks, pupils blown wide, wanting, needing the assurance that he’s doing good, he’s making you feel good.
“Yes, oh fuck, yes!” your voice grows sharper as he curls his fingers with every thrust. After a few moments of fumbling with your panties, his thumb presses against your clit and he’s rewarded by another groan from you.
He draws figure eights against your slick core, finding a rhythm that has you tugging at his hair wildly, and he’s whispering into your ear, pleading, “That’s it, please come for me, please, let me see how good you feel, please, please—”
“Spencer!” you groan, and then you’re shuddering in his lap, and his fingers down to his knuckles are wet with your slick.
He grins, helping you through your orgasm, pressing kisses to your hair, the FBI issued office chair creaking so much he’s afraid the two of you would break it if you don’t stop. The image is hilarious in its absurdity, making his grin widen, and you must have taken it for arrogance because he feels a slight smack on his shoulder.
“Don’t get cocky.” you mutter.
He takes you in, the flushed cheeks and hazy eyes, mascara now smudged along your lash lines, and he’s reverential instead of arrogant, grateful that he has brought someone so stunning and capable to the throes of pleasure, has taken you apart so much you’ve ruined your normally perfect facade.
“You’re beautiful.” he tells you, his own eyes glistening with an unfocused daze. You roll your eyes and shake your head, and he’s seized with a desire to keep you hear and bury his fingers inside you over and over again until you believe him.
“Your turn.” You chuckle, hands unwinding from his neck and travelling down the length of his abdomen, coming to the buckle on his belt.
“Wait, I—uh,” he turns beet red once again, clearing his throat, “Are you on the pill? I don’t have—”
You tilt your head, as if the idea of a man walking around without a condom is foreign. Perhaps it is, but Spencer simply never assumed he would have any use for it. He turns away, teeth worrying his lower lip, but you pull his face to you again.
“I have hands.” you say as you resume undoing his pants. You shift, then slink away from him, and he whines at the loss of your warmth, but he sees you on your knees once again, and this time it’s not just his brain making up lewd, inappropriate thoughts, “And a mouth.”
“Y-you really don’t have to.”
“I know,” you grin, pretty as the devil and twice as tempting, and as your hands wrap around his engorged length, thumb circling at the tip, “But how can I not, when you’re this pretty?”
He blacks out, he swears he does, there’s no way this isn’t a perverted dream, no way that you’re actually stroking up and down his throbbing cock. Somehow he comes to, only to feel a warmth, a wetness, enveloping the swollen tip, and his hips buck up instinctively. He whines when your hands push at his thighs, holding him in place.
“Please,” he gasps, babbles, really, “Please, oh god, that feels so good.”
You take him further down and he throws his head back so violently the glasses slip past his ears and clatter onto the floor. He feels your laughter vibrating against his cock and it almost has him keening. He whines, wriggles against your hold with no real desire to break free. He finds that likes the force of your hands on him, nails leaving harsh indents on his flesh as he struggles. The pain is delicious, heightening his already frazzled senses.
You bob your head up and down, your hair swaying gently, and he manages to will his hands to move, gathering the soft tresses in his hand so they won’t impede your movement. Your eyes flicker up, meet his own, and he swears there’s a thank you in the glint of them. He cannot do anything else.
Slack jawed, he watches you hollow your cheeks, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth as you give him the best head he’s ever experienced. Never mind that it’s his first one, and that he doesn’t have a point of comparison. He’s convinced this is the best, you are the best, and he’s never been more thankful for his eidetic memory until this night, knowing that he cannot, will never, ever forget the way you look as you knelt down and sucked his cock like you were being paid to do it.
“God, you’re so pretty, oh my god, yes, just like that, please, please, yes.” he’s aware that he’s whining, and there’s an amused twinkle in your eye that tells him he would never hear the end of this after.
He knows you well enough to know that you would dangle this over his head any chance you get, that you aren’t above playing dirty. Instead of dread, it makes his stomach roil with another gush of desire, and he knows that that is even more concerning than whatever you were going to do.
(It never occurs to him to do the same, that he could tease you back and point out that he has had you on your knees and sucking on his cock like you were made for it simply because his brain cannot fathom ever associating the sight of you kneeling before him as something to be ashamed of.)
He’s drawn from his thoughts as he feels your hands cupping his balls, stimulating an entirely new area that has him thrusting up. He feels his cock brush against the back of your throat, and he pulls back immediately, eyes wide with worry as you gag around his length.
“Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby you can stop if—”
But you do it again, soldiering past your gag reflex and taking him all the way, and he can hear someone saying oh fuck oh fuck I’m cumming agh, please, I’m cumming, and he thinks its his own voice but he’s unsure. His eyes are squeezed shut, colors exploding behind his lids as he feels your tongue swirling over and over his sensitive cock, before the cool air surrounds it, telling him you’ve stopped completely.
When he opens his eyes, you have your head on his thigh, cheek pressed against the fabric, a lazy smile on your ruined lips.
“God,” he whispers, reaching for you, wanting you close, “That was—wow, you—come here, please.”
He watches as a flicker of surprise flits over your face, before you mask it with a giggle, “Good?” you murmur, tucking his soft cock into his pants before climbing on his lap again.
“Incredible.” He holds you tight, your slick only half dry on his fingers, the taste of him still on your tongue, “You’re incredible.”
You’re quiet, contemplative, and he presses a kiss to your neck, wanting to bring you out of whatever funk you’ve gone into, “Hey, what is it?” He’s almost terrified of the answer, worried you would pull away and leave him cold.
“I just didn’t think you’d be a cuddler.” you reply, eventually sinking into his arms. Your voice is soft when you say, “Most men aren’t.”
The thought of her having experiences doesn’t bother him; it’s the fact that they callously left her after that makes him tighten his hold on her. “I’m sorry.”
“For the entirety of shitty men? You’d need more apologies than that,” you chuckle, fingers absently curling into his hair, “But thank you. This is— this is nice.”
“It is,” Spencer nods, leaning into your touch, eyes shut.
“You lost your glasses.”
“I did.”
Your laughter fills the air, “Hey, are you sleepy? You still have Morgan’s reports to finish.”
His eyes flutter open, a sheepish smile on his lips, “Why’d you have to remind me?”
“Because the sooner you finish it, the sooner we can do this again.”
Spencer laughs, kissing your shoulder as he relents, “All right, all right.” That’s more than enough incentive to brave staring at the monitor again.
#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x oc#dr spencer reid fan fic#spencer reid fan fiction#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#matthew gray gubler smut#mgg#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#Waldorf!Reader
652 notes
·
View notes
Text
In Your Element
Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Quinn finally gets an opportunity to each lunch with you at your school, but he arrives a little early and sees a different side to you, when you're absolutely in your element.
Notes: This was a request which I very much enjoyed writing, so thank you:
'For Quinn x teacher reader you could do Quinn going to eat lunch with her at school and getting there early on accident and just admiring her teaching and her getting along with her students and then getting home and just telling her how much he admires her and loves her and wants to marry her'
Not me researching Canadian school grades and ages because it is not the same in the UK (Grade 11 is age 16-17, where as year 11 in the UK is age 15-16 and also the final year of secondary for us)
Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)
Writing Masterlist
Most days Quinn doesn't get a chance to go and visit you at work and he'd never had the opportunity to sit and eat lunch with you during the school day. After all, you were busy and so was he. You had maybe 40 minutes in a day to sit down and eat, then if he subtracted the time in that 40 minutes you needed to tidy your room, put books out for your next class, write the title on the board, sort your powerpoint out and then pee, plus dealing with any dramas your students brought to your door? Well, you probably had 10 minutes to eat...and he, well, how often was he actually available at that specific time of day? It was like ships in the night sometimes, both having highly busy careers in different ways, but you made it work. Partly by taking any moments that you could find and utilising them, both of you had to learn to be a bit more spontaneous and flexible.
Something that was easier said sometimes than done, but your desire to see each other had a way of making bending easier than breaking. It helped that you'd moved in with him before the season started, so at least he saw you at night and in the early hours of the morning.
Today was different, an odd day where the stars had seemingly aligned. Quinn had a free 2 hours in his day just at the right time for lunch with you and you had a free period after lunch which meant you didn't have to spend all your lunch break sorting stuff out for your next lesson. So, you'd agreed to tell the office he'd be visiting and he agreed to bring your favourite sandwich from your favourite deli along with other goodies for you to snack on.
The problem was Quinn hadn't expected to be 20 minutes early, Vancouver traffic being almost non-existent (which was a rarity) and the deli having absolutely no one inside despite it being lunch time (he briefly considered that the zombie apocalypse might have happened at that point). Being 20 minutes early meant he didn't really have anything to do. At first he assumed he'd have to simply wait in the office, but Maria on reception just gave him his visitors badge and walked him to your classroom, ushering him away from the uncomfortable visitors seats.
Your door is shut to keep the noise of the corridor out of your classroom. From the small window in the door Quinn can see the way your 11th graders sit in various states of focus, you're leant against your desk at the front, hands moving as you talk to them. There's something about how relaxed you are at the front of the classroom, the way you seem to be in your element that hits him. He's never seen you teach a lesson before and it strikes him that it seems right, like it's where you're supposed to be.
Maria knocks on the door and he watches as you pause, telling your students something before setting a timer on the board. Watching for a second to make sure they were all on task before walking to the door and reaching for the handle, your face a picture of surprise at seeing him here early.
"Mr Hughes is here to see you, I thought he could sit in the back or help you with the last little bit of lesson."
"Thank you, Maria I'm sure we'll figure it out." You smile warmly at Maria and it strikes him that you probably know all about her, that you've probably spent time with her at the staff Christmas party and eaten lunch together. It hits him that there are people you see every day that he has no idea about because your worlds simply don't cross that often. You know his team mates but does he really know your colleagues? He suddenly feels very out of place.
"You are early." You give him a look that makes him smile sheepishly at you, raising the bag of sandwiches as if that would solve the problem. Still you let him into your classroom, your students narrowing their eyes at the new face before promptly widening at who just walked into their classroom. Still they don't say anything, like you've taught them better, heads down as they continue writing an answer to the question on the board. A timer ticking down the remaining couple of minutes left.
He drops the bag onto your desk before you point to a spare seat at the back, "You can watch if you want...sorry, it might be boring."
"I don't think anything you could do would be boring." He knows the way he's looking at you is probably a little much for a classroom, he can't help it though. You're so pretty in your teacher clothes, there's a different sort of confidence rolling off you, you own the room and it's attractive, the way you command the room even when you're not overtly doing anything.
A quiet little murmur runs through the class at his statement, a few raised eyebrows and David lets out a little 'ohhhh' that you hush with a sharp look. Even that is hot, the fact a single look from you has a teenage boy shutting up, Quinn's rarely seen you like this, in complete and total control, effortlessly. In your pairing you're usually the one who follows while he leads. He orders your drink at a coffee shop or initiates a kiss, this is a different you.
"Go to your seat, Mr Hughes." The raised eyebrow does it for him as well and he thinks if he had to actually respond he'd have stuttered, instead he choses to follow your directions, trying desperately not to look utterly devoted to you in front of a bunch of teenagers.
He forgot how uncomfortable classroom chairs were, still he uses it as a chance to watch from the back corner. You wander the room, green pen in hand for the remaining time on the timer, writing notes on students' work and giving direction here and there. A few times you give warnings to students who haven't worked hard enough, but there's a general sense that this group of students work for you because they respect you. Even the kids who clearly aren't the most academic seem to try for you.
The timer is blaring when it goes off, some sort of lute sound that you clearly picked because it was mildly medieval and fit the vibe of your history classroom. It's ridiculous but it also describes you perfectly, those elements of quirkiness and fun that fit in even into a classroom where students write paragraphs and complete work. Like you have a balance perfectly set.
"Right, times up, so put your pens down..." You march to the front in quick time, nabbing a flashlight that one of your students was playing with at the front before they could even protest, slipping it into your pocket. It's impressive, the way you seem to have eyes on every corner of the classroom, the way you notice things that Quinn definitely would not have.
The student in question puts his hand up in the air and you call on him as if it was expected, "Yes, Rory?"
"Can I have it back at the end?"
"Yes, Rory, you can have it back at the end." It's interesting, the way that that is enough. That Rory seems to respect that it shouldn't have been out, doesn't try to argue that you shouldn't have taken it, but trusts that he'll get it back enough not to press they issue. Quinn's pretty sure Miller has argued with him more over lesser things before.
"Who can explain to me then how war has had an impact on medical development? Bonus points, potentially getting the bonus point duck for the rest of lesson, if you can give me concrete examples from our unit." He's close to putting his hand up to ask about the bonus point duck when you reach into your desk drawer and pull out a rubber duck dressed as Henry VIII.
It's in that moment that Quinn realises he does not know as much about you as he thought. He knew you. He knew the woman he called his girlfriend who couldn't sleep with her feet outside of the bed covers and absolutely had to have the shower on the highest heat setting, but he didn't know teacher you. Never in his life had you mentioned a bonus point duck, never would he have predicted that that was something you even had in your classroom and it's utterly ridiculous and shouldn't motivate a bunch of teenagers at all and yet, suddenly there were 20 hands in the air, a few calling out as if that would make you pick them quicker.
He watches the way you smile, the scan of your eyes over each, the way you bypass those not meeting your expectations until they correct themselves and then you pick a student that Quinn would likely not have picked, a student he knows his history teacher in school would have avoided.
When he thinks of picking a student to answer there are two modes he thinks of from his own high school career:
The one without their hand up, who doesn't look like their listening, the one a teacher wants to catch out
The student who is clearly a nerd, clearly good at the subject and will clearly given an impressive answer, the easy kid to pick
You pick neither. Instead, you go straight to a girl with her hand up but with thick blonde hair extensions in and enough gum in her mouth that Quinn can hear it smack from here. The stereotypical popular girl who probably doesn't care much about school and would rather be at the mall.
"Angel?"
"Well, it's like when there's a war on like World War One then all the government care about is winning the war, right?"
You nod in encouragement and it hits him that you picked Angel for a reason. That you picked a student who likely doesn't like school, likely gets discouraged but who you know can answer and get a confidence boost. It's smart, he does something similar with rookies, where he gives them a chance to do something so he can boost their confidence, can build a relationship with them. Suddenly captaincy and teaching seem awfully similar, minus the gum and the smell of Lynx Africa.
"So like if they don't improve medicine then all their soldiers just die, right? Either outright or later because of like infection like why they funded Florey and Chain to mass produce penicillin in World War Two or like why people were so into the leg splint thing in 1916. So, the governments put more money into medicine because that means soldiers live longer and can get sent back to war and then they can win the war because they still have men alive, but like if they all die you're going to lose the war, duh."
"Beautiful answer and a few specific examples in there, you have earned the duck," You smile widely at her as you walk to plop the rubber duck on her desk and he can see it, the way she seems to puff up in pride, the way a student who maybe would have hated History is engaged because of you.
He's pretty sure he just fell a little bit more in love with you.
"Yo, Miss?"
You sigh a deep sigh as if this interruption is expected, stopping mid walk back to the front of your classroom and turning on your heel, "Yes, David?" Your voice is mildly amused, not impatient or frustrated like Quinn would expect.
"Why ducks?" There's a beat of silence and Quinn watches the way you just stare at David, eyebrows high on your forehead like your considering whether you'll actually treat the question seriously or not.
Then a big smile crosses your lips like you're laughing at yourself before you even say the punch line to a joke. A silly little smile that is so his girlfriend that suddenly both versions of yourself seem to merge together.
"Because ducks fly together."
"C'mon, Miss! Really? Did you seriously just quote the Mighty Ducks when a hockey legend is in the room?" It's your patience with David that smacks Quinn in the face. You could have given him a detention by now or told him off for disrupting your lesson, but you're not. Like you're confident you can bring it back to the lesson soon enough. It makes him wonder if you'd be that patient with your kids, if he's seeing a little glimpse into a possible future where you're this patient with the kids you have with him.
"Well, maybe we should ask the 'hockey legend' what he thinks of my jokes? Mr Hughes?" You ask him because you know he'll back you up, and it's that sense of being needed that makes him sit up a little straighter in the chair he's in and smile widely like he's scored a goal.
"Hilarious as always, although maybe you need a bonus point orca?"
"Oh, do I? The duck not good enough?" There's a little glint in your eye, the one you always get when you're teasing him, playful. It feels like the rest of the world disappears, falls away, like you're the only two people in the room.
"Seems a little too Anaheim like for my taste,"
"You would say that, no taste." As if you're a Anaheim fan when you are in fact a Canucks fan through and through, but you know the statement will get a little rise out of Quinn. You can see the way his brow twitches at the suggestion that you'd pick the Ducks over the Canucks, the sense of male pride being slighted.
"Miss, stop flirting with Quinn Hughes!" It's David, it's always David. David with a wide grin that shows off his braces, David who's waggling his eyebrows at you, typical teenage boy behaviour really but it stumps you. Quinn can see that it stumps you.
There's a beat of silence, like your brain is trying to process what's just happened, and for the first time you're off your game, flustered, a little taken aback like you didn't expect it to go this far. But, then, Quinn was never in your classroom while you taught, never there for you to banter with in front of students. Quinn had proven to be a distraction, a disruptive presence if you will.
Your choice of tactic is perhaps not the best nor the most smooth, but simply to turn back to your powerpoint plastered on the board and pretend that it simply hadn't happened. To move on.
"Anyway, back to medicine," Your voice is a little unsteady, a little less controlled and Quinn feels slightly bad that he put you off your game, but admires the way you push forward.
You turn the slide on your powerpoint, an old cartoon springing up on the board, "I'm going to give you a copy of this source from 1847 about anaesthetic and I want you to analyse it like we've been practicing. If you can do this properly in 8 minutes then I will let you ask Mr Hughes some questions..." You pause briefly, looking directly at David, "Appropriate questions."
There's a bubble of excitement that sees students volunteering to help you hand out glues and copies of the source before all heads hit the desks, hands moving ferociously across the paper while 8 minutes ticks down on the clock. Just like that you've got them back on track and it is utterly impressive, how you managed to completely save a lesson that he'd accidently ruined for you.
You both survive the few minutes of questions at the end, David only asking a few minorly inappropriate ones which Quinn fields with his usual tactic of say nothing and refuse to answer. By the end he's not entirely sure how you handle being questioned all day by hundreds of teenagers and Quinn's a lot more sympathetic to your reluctance to make decisions when you get home after a long day of teaching. He gets it now.
"Have a good lunch, everybody!" You wave the last of your students off at the door, shutting it the moment they're all out and letting out a massive sigh of relief, shoulders slumping.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, just tired." The unspoken is there. That your job is hardwork, that getting kids in the modern age to focus on anything for more than 60 seconds might look easier to the outsider but takes more brainpower and more routines and techniques than you can shake a stick at.
Quinn decides to leave it for the moment, you probably don't want to spend your entire lunch break talking about teaching and he's ultimately here to see his baby, not talk about education.
"Sit, I got your favourite," He's guiding you gently, hands on your shoulders to your comfy desk chair, the one he hasn't seen you sit down in at all. You let him force you to sit down, let him sort out your sandwich placing it in front of you with a napkin and your favourite packet of crisps with your favourite drink to boot. It's a little thing but the way he sets it out in front of you, the way he takes care of you helps ease a little bit of the strain of the day.
"Thank you for coming and having lunch with me," You reach for half of your sandwich, exactly as you like it down to the type of bread used, watching as Quinn pulls one of the desks closer to you so he's not so far away. His own sandwich being pulled from the brown paper bag.
"You don't have to thank me. I wanted to see my girl, who's looking extra pretty today by the way." You almost choke on the first bite of your sandwich, cheeks warming even as you cough and roll your eyes at him. Feeling decidedly unattractive after nearly choking on bread.
"You are such a suck up!"
"Oh, so I can't compliment my girlfriend now? That's sucking up? I'm just stating facts. The sky is blue, water is clear and my girlfriend is gorgeous."
"Quinn!" You laugh at him and it's the most beautiful thing he's seen all day. The way your face lights up, eyes crinkling as you twist your head away from him because of how ridiculous you think he's being. When you laugh he can't help it, it makes him grin, teeth on show, sandwich half forgotten in front of him.
"And she can't take a compliment to save her life."
The two of you fall into a comfortable sort of routine, taking bites of your lunches while interspersing eating with conversation about his upcoming roadie and what you're going to send to your mum for her birthday.
He doesn't say anything about your teaching, doesn't even bring up the bonus point duck because he doesn't want to take up your few precious non-teacher minutes with it...and also because he's pretty certain 40 minutes is not enough time for all the things he's thinking.
How does one condense down how much they admire their partner? How does he talk briefly about how utterly amazing you are at your job and how he can't wait to marry you, to have kids with you, to see you be just as patient, just as amazing with them? He can't, so he decides to leave it til later.
He doesn't just eat lunch with you before he leaves the school though, Quinn, ever determined to make your life easier helps you tidy up your classroom and fix a display board that you couldn't reach the top corner of. You can't help but admire him as he stretches up up to staple a bit of border roll back in place, the muscles of his back flexing underneath his t-shirt, the way his hair falls effortlessly across his forehead. It's weird seeing him in this environment, your environment but you can't help but think that he fits in it, like it suits him to be helping in a classroom. Maybe in a different life he'd have been a teacher or maybe you were just waxing poetic in your head.
You walk him out to his car once your done, even though you should be using this time to plan, you can't help but try to get as many moments with him as possible, any little bit of time precious.
"I'll see you at home later?" You ask just in case he'd planned something with the team, fingers twined with Quinn's as you stand by his car.
"Yeah, I should be home already when you get in, figured i'd cook dinner tonight." He wants to make it nice for you, special, because he knows you're going to shy away from his compliments, his admiration...but he feels like he has a lot to say. Good stuff, but a lot and he wants you in a good mood, more receptive.
"Mmm, anything good?"
"Your favourite." You think about the spicy noodle dish he's perfected cooking, the little spring onions on top, the warming broth and it makes you feel almost hungry despite having just eaten lunch.
"And what did I do to deserve this treatment?" You tug him closer by the hands, tilting your head back to look up at him with a sweet smile that makes his heart race just a little bit faster. You're so pretty without even trying.
"Just being yourself, baby." Quinn breaches the distance between the two of you, leaning down to close the remaining space, lips pressing to yours gently, once, twice, a third time because he can't help himself, "Have a good rest of your day and I'll see you later, sweetheart"
Quinn presses one more kiss to your lips, a longer one that lingers, a force behind it that almost takes you off guard, your hands reaching up to grip at the edges of his jacket.
It takes you a moment to catch your breath, just long enough for Quinn to notice and smirk about it, to find it cute that he can still make you react like that.
"Bye, I love you." You force yourself to pull away, watching as he steps into the car.
"I love you too." You watch Quinn's car roll out of the school car park, wave back at him when he turns to look at you from the driver's seat before he's completely gone, before heading back instead to finish off your day.
The rest of your day goes relatively smoothly bar the incident in which a student decided to swallow a battery he had in his backpack to see what would happen, resulting in him being taken to hospital and your last class of the day being unable to focus on anything but that. Still as days go it was relatively stress free and made ten times better when you walked into the apartment to the smell of Quinn's world famous spicy noodles and the way he'd set up the dining table with some candles just to make things sweeter. The lights in the apartment dim and romantic feeling.
He's stirring the dish when you get to the kitchen area, back to you, but head turned at the sound of your feet padding towards him. You don't hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek into the centre of his back. Quinn leans back into you with a hum.
"You've really gone all out, huh?" You mumble it into his shirt, moving with him as he takes the pan off the heat and carries it towards the two bowls already laid out on the side. Shuffling alongside him determined to stay close to his warmth despite how inconvenient it was.
"Wanted to surprise you, now get off me and sit your cute ass down." You do as your told, jumping a little at the light swat Quinn gives to your arse as you move away from him. You turn to glare at him as if you're offended even though you both know you'd let him slap your arse whenever he wanted if he just asked.
Quinn serves you first, placing your bowl in front of you with a glass of your favourite thing to drink at dinner before grabbing his own noodles and sitting across from you.
At first it's quiet, the two of you more focused on eating than talking, but every now and then you look up to see Quinn staring at you as if he has something he wants to say. You choose not to rush him, both of you finishing your dinner before you insist that you put the dishes in the dishwasher since he cooked. Still he doesn't say anything and you don't push him.
It's not until he drags you to the couch, pulling you to curl up next to him while some movie plays in the background that he finally speaks his mind.
"You were amazing today..." You're tucked under Quinn's arm, his hand resting on your arm as you press your cheek into his shoulder, soft eyes looking up at him from under your lashes.
"Mm? What at work?"
"Yeah." You let him think for a minute, knowing he has more to say but clearly trying to figure out how he goes about saying it, his fingers tracing light circles on your arm. "I've never seen you like that...so in your element..."
There's a pause in which he shifts, pulling your legs over his lap, other hand gripping your calf. It's the most natural movement in the world, a touch neither of you even think twice about. "The kids love you. You got kids who probably hate school to willing write paragraphs for you and...you're so, so confident in that room, baby..."
"I'm just doing my job..." You hide your face in his shirt for moment, feeling that familiar bashfulness come to the surface. You've never been good at accepting compliments, even from Quinn, and now is no exception even as his words fill you with a giddy kind of happiness.
"I know but...the way you just knew you had it, even when someone was off topic, you knew you could get it back on track, that was so fucking attractive and even the silly things, like the duck!" Your head shoots up so fast at the mention of the duck that you almost knock his chin with the top of your head, the look you give him is nothing short of confused.
"The duck is attractive?"
"Not the duck exactly, but the fact that you wanted to make History fun but also still make sure they're actually learning...and, and it was so you, y'now? So silly but endearing and...I don't know..." Quinn looks away from you, red flush high on his cheeks as he starts to regret ever saying anything, feeling mildly embarrassed about how into you he is. Which he knows is ridiculous because he should be into his girlfriend.
"You don't know? Sounds like you do, you're just embarrassed about how much you love me." You tease him, hand cupping his cheek to get him to face you again, even when he's embarrassed he can't help but lean into your touch a little more, cheek pressed fully into your palm.
"I do love you...watching you teach was like seeing our future."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I thought..." There's that hesitancy again, flush bright on his skin, lip being bitten between his teeth. It's like he's worried he'll mess up if he speaks his mind, which is ridiculous because you love him so much you're not sure anything he could say would change that.
"You can't put me off, Quinn, if you're worried about saying the wrong thing...i'm too in deep to be put off, so, you thought?"
You wait, oh so patient, while he assesses you, judges whether you're telling the truth. Like he needs to double check that you're correct when you say you're in too deep.
"I was just thinking about how you're so patient with your students and how patient you'll be with our kids, y'know?"
"Our kids?" There's a giddy little sensation of butterflies flipping in your stomach, eyes widening in delight at the mention because how many relationships have you had where your exes refused to even consider children, where they didn't want that with you?
"Well, yeah, I'm going to marry you one day." It's so matter of fact as if he'd just said he was going shopping tomorrow or had a game on Saturday. A statement of objective truth as if there was no other option, no other outcome.
"Oh, you are?"
"If you let me. If you don't? I'm never going to marry anyone." You pull back from him, just enough to look at him, mouth slightly dropped open. He's dead serious, lips pursed, brows furrowed.
"Quinn."
"I mean it. I love you, you're so fucking amazing and I...seeing you in your element today made me realise how impossible it would be for me to fall in love with anyone else, to marry anyone else, to have a family with anyone else. I don't want anyone but you."
You let out a shaky breath, smile watery but pleased, full of love and affection.
"I...I guess it's a good thing then that I want to marry you one day. Can't have you dying alone, that would be sad." You're trying to lighten the mood, but the truth is you're so deeply touched, so in love with him that you hope he means it. If he breaks up with you, you're certain it'll break you for good because you were certain he was it for you too.
"Just to be clear this isn't a proposal, you're getting a proper proposal and it will be a surprise."
"You think you're sneaky enough to keep it secret?" Your arms wrap around his neck as the two of you shift, fingers playing with the dark curls at the nape of his neck.
"I think if I want something enough, i'll get it." Quinn's voice lowers in that way that has you raising your brows, cheeks warming as smirks down at you, green eyes peering at you from underneath unfairly long lashes.
"Oh?"
"Oh." You lean back against the couch, lowering yourself flat as Quinn crawls his way over you, arms bracketing your head on the couch beneath you. You reach a hand up to cup his jaw, scruff rough against your palm, the air around you feels charged.
He's the first to move, wasting little time before lowering his lips to yours. A soft press that deepens as your arms drag him closer, fingers curling in his hair tight. You're working on instinct when Quinn's tongue swipes across your bottom lip begging for entry, opening up for him as your legs wrap around his hips.
In that moment you are so very glad that you're never going to have to know what life is like without Quinn Hughes. That you'll always get to revel in the way he presses his whole weight onto you, the way his breath wavers when he pulls back just to catch his breath before diving back into you.
Maybe you're just lucky or maybe fate intervened, but you are so fucking glad you met Quinn Hughes and so fucking glad that he decided a random History teacher was more than enough for him for the rest of his life.
585 notes
·
View notes