#i couldn't get past the intro | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

burgojo · 2 months ago

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OWN MY MIND. GOJO / M!READER

summary. nah, satoru wins.

wc. 4k

tags. smut | sub bottom gojo, top reader, husbands gojo/reader, slight blood and gore, needy gojo (he a little feral) (he's also whipped as hell), riding + teaching a pillow princess how to ride <3, spit as lube, untouched orgasms, multiple orgasms, rough sex, breeding kink, brief feminisation

notes. i'll learn to write less, i said. not every smut fic needs nine thousand words, i said. i reduce the intro to 600 words and this is still way bigger than i intended :))) skull emoji.

Ryomen Sukuna is dead, and Satoru's white hair is red with blood. For a split second, his chest was cleaved open clean in two, and he could feel the air rushing into the cavity of his chest. His exposed heart, red and slick, shuddered with the crackle of cursed energy forcing its way through every cell.

He thought that was his end. Surely it was. The monstrous, wicked grin on Sukuna's face certainly hadn't helped.

My husband.

As if in slow motion – everything feels so slow after moving at light speed, at thousandths of a second – he turns, pulse thundering against the walls of his skull. Red, red. So much of it.

My husband. My husband.

Satoru's unblinking blue eyes scour the silent battlefield for the distinct presence of your cursed energy. He hones in like a nuke on the smoky trail wisping in the air, as potent and attention-stealing as the stench of cigarette smoke at a road crossing. He takes a step, the ground unsteady and his horizons tipping, and licking his dry lips blooms the heavy iron of blood on his tongue.

I need my husband.

He follows the trail his Six Eyes shows him. He shoves past the sorcerers clamouring for his attention – his open wounds and vacant eyes don't inspire a lot of confidence – but he pushes past them, gaze trained on the wispy breadcrumb trail so teasingly left behind.

He puts one foot in front of the other. Then again. And again, again, again, until he's blitzing through rubble and ruined streets, his heart slamming into his broken ribs. His feet pound the ground as if he's trying to move the earth itself. A solid ball of heat and pressure has filled his core, curling and roiling and throbbing, pushing him to move, to find you – to fuck you.

My husband.

There you are, cradling your students and healing the worst of their injuries with frantic, grateful whispers of their names. Shoko's nearby, fluttering from patient to patient like a small bird – but your students, his students, flock to you and your steadiness, like wreck survivors to a sturdy rock at sea.

It wasn't only him learning new tricks, then – you certainly couldn't heal others before all of this.

He wants your hands on him. In him. For him. He skids to a stop just as you finish squeezing Nobara half to death in relief, and you quickly stand as his presence looms behind you. His clothes are shredded, barely hanging on.

"Satoru?" you call softly, voice husky with exhaustion, and there are new cuts and bruises littering your skin. Always so selfless, tending to others even when you've got three broken ribs and less than ten fingers.

Satoru seizes your wrist, the blood boiling in his veins at the sight of your injuries. Anger ripples hot under his skin. "Heal yourself," he demands, chest heaving.

You blink, glancing down at the hand in his tight grip. Cursed energy floods the space where your fingers would be. Satoru watches reverentially as the cuts seal over and the bruises fade.

His pale skin shines, sweat gathering wherever his blood isn't. Did he run all the way across the city to get to you?

"Satoru, the others need to speak with you," you try, but you can't help the sneaking suspicion that he's not all... there. His cerulean eyes are wide, tracking you like a predator in wait. You don't think he's blinked once. "I'll take you to Ijichi."

"No," he downright growls. Without another word, he drags you close, shoving his nose in the crook of your neck, and the whole world uproots, tipping and whirling in a nauseating swirl of colour and wind.

You nearly retch when your surroundings still, your head spinning. You stumble away, fumbling with the shoji doors in front of you and throwing them open.

Clean air. Neat greenery, a wall of trees, garden paths.

"Is this," you swallow, your stomach settling, "the Gojo estate?"

His skin burns as he wraps his arms around you and buries his face between your shoulder blades, his sweat-damp hair tickling your neck. Something hot and stiff ruts into the back of your thigh and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, a gasped moan leaving his lips.

You smell like blood, sweat, and a sweet warmth like the sun. He pants, each lungful filling him with your dizzying smell, strong and masculine. He gropes at the front of your trousers, shaking hands scrabbling at the zipper as if it's the first time he's touched such a thing.

"Satoru," you grunt, grabbing his wrists and turning around, "what are you doing? Why are you still bleeding?"

"Do it for me," he breathes shakily, widening his legs slightly to rub against you harder. "Please."

Your throat bobs and he follows the motion hungrily with his eyes. You lift your hands unsteadily and hover them over his shoulders, unsure of where to touch because it doesn't seem like there's an inch of him gone unwounded.

He decides for you, grasping your wrists and pushing his face into your palms. His thick white lashes flutter as your technique washes over his body, pulsing warm and pleasantly tingly from deep within his core. It's the same kind of flooding heat when you come in him, just everywhere this time – every limb, every finger, all the way from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. With legs like jelly, he moans quietly, his parted lips turning to the side and licking your thumb into his mouth. He suckles on it with eager, needy whines, lashes fluttering as he stares up at you with pupils blown wide, turning the sky blue of his eyes as dark as a deep ocean.

"Satoru," you whisper, entranced, pushing your thumb deeper into his mouth. You watch him moan, his body both taut and pliant under your touch, and his tongue laves against his own blood coating your skin. Criss-crossing his skin are a thousand scars you doubt any technique could completely reverse.

His head spins with the taste of your skin – warm, slightly salty, alive. Alive because of him – because he protected you like a good husband.

That's what he is, isn't he? Your perfect husband, the strongest of them all? He leans into your hand, short breaths puffing hotly against your palm, as he stares up at you, big damp eyes debauched and brimming with mania. He pushes his throbbing sex against your thigh with a whimper too sweet to ignore. You draw your thumb out of his mouth to grip his hips and pull him into you, letting him hump your thigh like a bitch in heat.

"I wanna," Satoru gasps hotly, arms thrown around your shoulders, "needa fuck you, baby, please – I-I'm—"

High on adrenaline, you surmise as he yanks you to the bed, shoving you down and clambering on top of you with less grace than usual. His breaths grow uneven and slightly whiny as he struggles with your many layers – undershirt and shirt and jacket, underwear and pants and zipper and belt – and he lets out a frustrated snarl.

He slashes an arm across your body. A crackling blade of pure cursed energy arcs through the air, slicing clean through the threads of your clothes. It bites a few millimetres into your skin, making you hiss as ruby beads pearl along the cuts. "Shit."

Satoru moans at the sight, tearing the remains of your shirt from your arms. Leaning down, he laps at the wounds, dragging his hot tongue over the dips and curves of your muscles. It scratches a primal itch in the back of Satoru's head, cooing happily knowing he would be well taken care of in your company. Your stomach heaves with effort – the tangy taste of your sweat and blood and the sound of your groans are enough to make his tip leak and bubble, soaking the front of his pants with just a few drags of his hips against air.

You manage to undo your trousers enough for Satoru to pounce. He closes his lips around the straining bulge in your briefs and sucks hard, his saliva saturating the cloth. He grinds into the mattress, nails digging into your tense thighs as he slobbers all over your clothed cock, a fucked-out expression gracing his reddened face.

"So biiig," he whines, though the drunken smile he wears tells you he likes it more than he should. He massages you with his fingers, tracing the outline of your shaft down your leg with a dreamy grin, dripping with lust and honey.

You grunt, combing your fingers through Satoru's snowy locks. The tips are dyed red, as if he's gone goth, and you shift your legs to push him off. He resists. "Baby, wait. We're both covered in blood."

"Don't you dare tell me to wait," he growls – pleads. His nails dig into your thighs. He pushes his mouth against your clothed cock, his hot breaths sending spiked shivers up your spine.

When you say nothing, acquiescing silently, Satoru lowers his gaze and fishes out your cock – he does it without his usual shy sweetheart eagerness, instead spitting on it as he pumps it, his other hand yanking at his torn pants. His pretty, dusky cock leaks and bumps his stomach. He kicks his pants off his ankles and hovers over your lap, thighs tensing as your thick tip presses against his hole.

You grab his hips, fighting against his own strength. His sharp gaze snaps up to you, blue-black with lust. His lips curl with impatience.

"Satoru," you choke out as he squeezes your shaft punishingly. "Honey, lube's in the closet drawer. Don't—"

He stares you down with a crippling intensity that makes your heart drop into your stomach. Your pulse races and your mouth goes dry as you stare back, withering slowly with every moment. He exhales softly as he smears your leaking precome down your shaft, slicking it up.

You swallow, head slowly tipping back to rest against the pillows. You keep your eyes on him all the while, hands loosening on his muscular thighs. Your fingers leave red marks on his alabaster skin.

He drops his hips. In one smooth motion, his greedy hole swallows your cock in its entirety – his ass smacks against your thighs and he lets out a loud, relieved groan, leaning forward and placing his hands on your chest. The lights flicker with a pulse of uncontrolled cursed energy.

Your heart beats beneath the cage of your ribs. He presses his palms harder against the sticky heat of your skin, committing the pattern of your heartbeat to memory.

He did that. He kept you alive.

Satoru lifts and lowers his hips, using the bounce of the mattress to help him ride you. His ass smacks roughly against your thighs, meeting halfway when the mattress pushes you up into him. He pants, breaths gasped and uneven, as his red, throbbing cock slaps his stomach, leaving a shining wet patch just above his belly button. His eyes roll back and his silky walls throb and squeeze, milking your cock as if he can't get enough, even when your balls press flush against his ass.

"'Toru," you hiss, staring up at his blissful expression. Your dick throbs at the sight and he whimpers, grinding down harshly before returning to his quick, rough pace. "Satoru! Fuck – slow down!"

"I can feel you," he whines instead of listening to you. He places a hand on his stomach, chest heaving as a wobbly smile spreads across his flushed face. "I-I can feel – here – f-feel the vein—"

He cries out as he manages to find his prostate despite the hot fog possessing his mind. His dick dribbles down the shaft but he doesn't touch it, too absorbed in the deep fullness your cock affords him.

Satoru's never been one to take control in the bedroom. He loves being pampered, being your pretty prince, and it's clear he doesn't know how to ride you. He slams his hips down, desperately trying to find that sweet spot inside him again, and if he keeps going like this, you're going to need a cast for your hips.

He makes a sound like a gurgle, arms trembling as he arches his spine. His cock drags against your stomach, pinched between your bodies.

"Baby. Baby, Satoru – let me help," you grunt, his warm insides slick with your pre. He spreads his ass, swallowing you deeper, and you struggle to sit up, his constant bouncing rough and harsh and animal.

"No," he hiccups, and when you glance up, there are tears glimmering along his lash line. "Needa fuck you. Gotta get your cum in me, okay, ruin this big fat cock with my hole – you're never gonna leave me. Never gonna wanna leave me. I'm the only fuckin' one who can make you feel like this, got it?"

Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, unused to his sharp words, and his heart flutters as arousal curls thick and heavy in his lower belly. He can feel you there, splitting him in half with your meaty cock.

God, you're so perfect – he's so fucking glad that your clan didn't make things difficult when he marched in there and demanded your hand in marriage. Who cares if you're both men? He's pretty enough to be your wife and powerful enough to bring your enemies to their knees. You wouldn't have to do anything except fuck him brainless, cooing in your gorgeous sultry voice about how good he is for you.

His hips quicken, his moans bouncing around the room, almost drowning out the wet clap of skin on skin. You grip his little waist, pale criss-crossing scars smooth and feathered under your touch. He preens, lean muscles flexing under your attention. You press your thumb against one beneath his pert pink nipple, dangerously close.

Satoru's hips jerk and his eyes glaze over. He comes with a ruined mewl of your name, gasped and open-mouthed as he shoves his chest into your touch, his hands scratching stinging lines down your shoulders. The lights flicker again, this time dark for longer, and the burst of coursed energy he releases is hot and wanting, seeking you out. You shudder.

You moan at the pain of his nails digging into your back. Satoru humps his spurting cock against your stomach – pearly rivers trail down the planes of your stomach, and his eyes flutter with a final spurt that splatters your chest. He heaves like he's dying, clutching you and ramming your cock into him even when his high peters off.

It's barely a breath before he's kissing you, lips hot and pillowy and slick. Fuck, he's goddamn drooling, licking into your mouth with a hand on your nape to make sure you don't pull away. He moans into your mouth, swallowing your groan of his name with a greedy, whorish whine. A string of saliva joins your lips and he pushes his mouth against yours again, sharing moans and hot panting breaths.

"Come," he whimpers, accentuating it with a grind of his hips that has your cock twitching and his walls pulsing. "Inside. Please. Please, please, 'm so empty – wan' you t'come in me, let everyone know this cock's all mine! Want it all, wanna be marked up 'n' smell like you...!"

"Filthy," you grunt, slapping his ass and basking in his mewl of pleasure. You do it again to make his arms weak and hear him sob. "Is that right, 'Toru? You wanna get knocked up, wanna be my dirty little bitch?"

Babies?

Satoru's head spins just thinking about it. Wouldn't you be a great father? You do so well with Megumi and Tsumiki already – and sometimes, when it's quiet, Satoru does mourn the fact that he never had a sweet, fat little baby to hold and play dress-up with. If he had a baby, he'd want them to look like you.

He can't think straight. Adrenaline numbs his thoughts. Your cock buries itself deep in his guts, the thick head prodding his stomach, and your shaft rubs harshly against his swollen prostate with every rise and fall of his hips. The pleasure licks in his lower stomach, and every time your cock kisses his prostate his balls tighten and throb.

You slap his ass again, jerking him out of his drunken daze – he mewls, his reddened skin hot and tender. "Don't get quiet now, pretty. You dragged me away from people who need me. Least you can do is answer my fucking question."

"Mmh—!" Satoru's hole clamps around you, wet with spit and pre as he bounces, and he moans hungrily against your neck as your balls smack against his ass. Each slam of his hips on yours is almost painful. "Yes! Yes, yesyesyes, baby, 'wanna be your pretty slut 'n' get knocked up by this fat cock! Fill me – ah – u-up, fuck me up, feels so fuckin' good, wanna taste it—!"

"Yeah, baby, don't worry. I'll give it all to you," you mutter, and arousal coils tight in his belly at the sound of your groans, right in his ear. "Such a good boy, did so well today – you deserve it all, don't you? Deserve to finally sit back and enjoy your picket-fence life, hm?"

"With you," he whimpers, voice wrecked. His taut little hole, dark and swollen, glides along your shaft, his gummy insides sticky and warm and oh-so sensitive. His thighs tremble. "Only if it's with you."

You stroke his sides, which tense under your warm fingertips. "I'm yours, 'Toru. All yours. This cock is yours, too," you murmur, a slight lilt of amusement touching your words. "I'll fill you up every day until you take, if that's what you want. Anything for my husband, yeah?"

His eyes flicker and roll and he wails, broken little cries heaving from deep within his chest. His pearly release splatters your stomach and his heavy shaft arches towards his belly, red and swollen with desire. Staccato uh-uh-uh's leave his throat as he bounces, grinding his hips dangerously into yours.

"Satoru," you groan, half-chastising, and he whines at the sound of his name from your lips. ""Stop – stop fuckin' slamming down like that. Ovals, baby, c'mon. Back and forth – you'll put me in a damn cast if you keep going like this."

He nods desperately with a whimper, expression ruined, blue eyes hazy and teary. He tries to listen, tries to relax, but your cock is so big and it's not his fault that you take up all his thoughts! If anything, it's your fault, looking at him with those hypnotic eyes and saying his name with a voice like a siren – even the pain you cause him makes him dizzy with pleasure.

"'M sorry," he babbles, forehead and chest dipped against your sternum because his body's too heavy to hold up, "f—ah—feels too gooood, 'm s-sorry..." With your help, your heavy tip strokes his prostate with every drop of his hips, the ridges of your head catching on his hot, rippling walls. He was never very good at riding, but the perfect size and shape of your cock makes even his unsteady, inexperienced technique feel like heaven.

He's obsessed with you. You really were made for him.

"Much better," you hum, your hands on his waist to guide his movements. His hips stutter violently at the praise and you grope his ass as his thighs clamp tight around you. For his efforts, you reward him with a sharp spank, squeezing the tender meat of his twitching thigh where the print of your hand reddens his skin.

Satoru presses his mouth against yours, hot and messy – teeth clicking, tongues rolling – and the pain of his nails clawing at your shoulders sends you over the edge. Satoru gasps and cries out, his voice cracking as his eyes roll to the back of his skull. He follows you immediately over the precipice – so quick he almost beats you to it – and you love the way he falls apart in your arms, trembling and jolting and coming so hard it splatters your chest.

He hiccups out a sob, gawping, toes curling as his mind goes blank once more. Your come slicks him up nicely, eases the burn, and the warmth of it soothes his throbbing walls. It leaks down your shaft, creating a white ring around your base that froths and smears his skin with sticky strings.

The lightbulbs shatter entirely.

His orgasm lasts a while, spurts of thick come painting your stomach and chest. He sinks his teeth deep into his lower lip until he can taste iron. You hold him through it, and he presses himself further into your embrace as if he can get closer than having you inside him. His expression is dazed and blissfully fucked-out, the new scars adorning his skin like draped jewels.

He'll hold this over you, you know it. Every argument will be promptly shut down with, Remember that time where I fought Sukuna and won just for you? You can't say you're not grateful or won't be eternally in his debt for saving, quite possibly, the entire country, but you also can't say you'll be pleased when you ask him to complete his mission reports and he pulls that out of the bag.

At last, Satoru slumps against you. He's a moaning mess, his quivering hole still sucking in your cock whorishly. You're both covered in sweat, come, and a not-insignificant amount of blood; judging by the pain splitting your back, not all of it was from earlier. Cursed energy surges through your body, and the long bloody rakes down your back seal over.

"Fuck," you whisper, your voice wrecked as you sink into the bed. Your eyes flutter shut. "Ow..."

There's blood under Satoru's nails, and some sick part of him enjoys it specifically because it's yours. He doesn't have to say anything for you to kiss him and heal the cut in his lip, warm and tingly cursed energy flooding his senses and making him shudder with a valiant twitch of his spent cock.

He mewls when you pull out of him despite your gentleness, and you don't think it's the pain that he's unhappy about. His gaping hole leaks come, a thick milky glob of it rolling down his shaky thigh when he clenches around nothing. He reaches down and pushes it back into himself with two fingers, trying his best to scoop it all up.

Satoru only stops when you steal his attention, kissing the scars over his forehead and cheeks. You can tell he's still not quite himself, as he stays rooted in place over your lap with his gaze trained on you even as you try to coax him to lie down beside you. Eventually, as if coming to understand that it's over, he allows it, tucking himself against your side and entwining your legs together possessively. He rumbles out a soft purr against your chest, an arm over your waist, and he stares up at the bulb of your throat and the soft underside of your chin.

You still don't think he's blinked while looking at you.

He nuzzles into his favourite place below your chin, warm and content. His skin buzzes pleasantly with the remnants of your reversed cursed technique, still zipping along his nerves and over his synapses. He curls his legs tighter around yours.

Then, his little voice pipes up, dazed and faraway, barely a whisper: "I love you."

You brush his bangs back and kiss his forehead. He smiles, plump and flushed and pleased. "I love you, too, Satoru. Always."

He seems satisfied with your response, finally closing his eyes. You hold him tighter, and it's only a few seconds before he's lax and breathing deep and even.

The two of you are too tangled up to even attempt aftercare, as he's draped over you. You're not sure what he'd do if he woke up and found the bed empty, even if you're just in the bathroom, so your eyes slide shut and you cradle your dear little husband in your arms, protecting him from what you can.

You still haven't spoken to the other sorcerers. Satoru's going to have a big day tomorrow...

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written-in-knife · 2 months ago

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Jump Rings and Bite Marks

Floyd Leech x gn!reader, pre-relationship

they/them pronouns, miscommunications, fluff, swearing

You have a crush on Floyd, Floyd has a crush on you... not that either of you admit to it in a way that the other understands.

Word Count: 6110

Okay so remember how we looked past the intro on my Cloudcalling fic and it got better a little ways in? Yeah? I need yall to trust me again, there's like two sections of lead up into the good stuff that I couldn't figure out how to rework to fit better but they're a little too tied into the plot to get rid of. Yall trust me? This is heavily influenced by various other Floyd fics and it's also my tribute to the merform gatcha gods for my final ten pull, wish me luck!

Ace and Deuce had finally gotten used to how blunt you often were, more often showing annoyance with their actions than cracking a smile, but they knew you cared about them. So when the anemones sprouted on their heads, they weren’t surprised to see you rolling your eyes and crossing your arms but you agreed to help them out to the best of your abilities the next day at lunch. You already had the Headmage on your ass about fixing this problem, but you weren’t about to leave your best friends hanging.

After you followed Azul around for a day with Jack, you were approached by the twins. When they turned their attention from the anemones to you, your friends watched as your eyes went wide. You looked... nervous? For the first time since they met you, you looked nervous about a non life threatening situation. Which was fair, the Leech twins were intimidating. Floyd teased you about the look on your face, dubbing you Shrimpy. Jack was the only one to notice the shift in your demeanor, namely the blush that rose to your cheeks for a moment as they kept speaking to you. He said nothing, figuring you were just uncomfortable about being singled out. When you went to the Mostro Lounge that night, you were surprisingly accommodating when the twins volunteered you and Jack to help with orders. You didn’t need any direction or instruction past how the tables were set up, you just rolled up your sleeves and got to work.

Jack noticed the blush on your cheeks again when the twins confronted you outside the Atlantica Memorial Museum. While Deuce and Ace were going pale upon seeing the two, you were red? He hoped with fury. He noticed it again after you were all electrocuted by the contract in Azul’s office, when Floyd threatened to squeeze you all. He watched you hang in the doorway a moment as you all escaped, he was the only one to see your wide smirk as you blew them all a kiss goodbye before joining the rest in their escape. When you finally got the photo out of the museum and got cornered by the twins again, Jack swore you looked happy to see them, grinning wide when you heard Floyd call out Shrimpy. That was because of your plan, right? Right?

The boys didn’t have to know about your little crush, the way your mind blanked whenever Floyd got a little too close. So when he swam in a tight circle around you, his tail fin brushing against your arms as he wrapped around and away, it was all you could do to not start twirling your damn hair. You sounded a little too eager to your own ears when you took up Floyd’s suggestion of “tag” until the sun went down, hoping the others just saw it as you being thrilled that your plan was working. As with most magical fights, the best you could do was call shots. During the overblots, you found blunt objects you could physically attack with, but underwater when your movements were so restricted anyways? No shot. You had just yanked Deuce out of the way of an incoming spell, and he turned to thank you just in time to see Floyd swimming up from behind, much faster than anyone expected. You barely had time to turn around at your friend’s fearful expression when Floyd crashed into you, wrapping his arms around you and swimming away. The way he was holding you pinned your arms to your sides, and he started absolutely cackling as he started for the surface. You were much too close, the skin contact, the way you were pressed against his chest. Your face was bright red at this point. You held your breath as he broke the surface of the water, the potion still in effect, and with his full strength coupled with the momentum, chucked you into the air. You wanted to yell, but continued holding your breath until you were back in the water. When you dropped back under, you were laughing, loud and delighted. It absolutely threw Floyd off as he swam to grab you again, holding you by the waist this time, twirling the two of you around as he swam. You yelped when he grabbed you, still laughing as he moved.

“Shrimpyy~ where’s the picture?” He drawled lazily, as if he weren’t swimming at full speed, twisting around with you in his arms.

“I don’t have it!” You laughed, eyes squeezed shut, holding onto his arms.

“Eh? Are you having fun?” He asked with a large, sharp grin, leaning in closer and squeezing you a little tighter.

You didn’t have time to respond before he dropped you, practically bowling you into your classmates. You landed on top of Ace, who tumbled into Jack before you were all in a heap on the ground, you still chuckling and dizzy.

Three overblots in the bag and you were finally getting used to the way things would just go back to normal afterwards, like there wasn’t just a massive, life-threatening fight. Jack handed you the photo from the museum, announcing your victory despite there not being a contract anymore. When you held up the picture, Floyd came over and draped himself on your right shoulder.

“Aha ha, that takes me back! This is a picture from our school field trip.” He announced as he leaned in closer to get a better look at it, pointing at the kids in the picture. “Me 'n Jade are right here. Aaand...” he dragged his finger over with his drawn out word, “see the kid sulking way off in the corner? That's baby Azul!”

Azul screamed as you pulled the picture closer to your face to look and cooed about how cute he was. “DON’T LOOK! PLEASE DON’T LOOK!”

He made to leap forward to snatch the picture, only to be blocked by Jade, now hovering near your left side with a sly grin. “Well well, Azul, you sure are spirited all of a sudden.” Jade practically purred. “Shouldn't you get a little more sleep? Considering how far things have already gone, it would be easier for you to let this one go.”

Floyd took the picture from you to hold out for the others to see, not removing himself from your shoulder as he did. Azul screamed again as everyone looked at the picture, making their own remarks on baby Azul.

Jade noticed how close his brother was getting to you, he would do this fairly often. Find someone he thought was interesting, cling to them for a week or so, then get bored and never interact with them again. But the weeks were going by with no sign of him letting up. Floyd sulked when he couldn’t find you at Ramshackle after a few days into the winter holiday, not knowing you were being essentially held captive in Scarabia. When you and Grim crash landed in the Mostro Lounge, Floyd scooped you up off the floor, your feet dangling in the air as he squeezed you and twirled you around. He only put you back down when the Scarabia students threatened them, and Jade watched as he stepped protectively in front of you. Interesting. After the fight, Jade patched up the cuts and scrapes you’d gotten when you crashed into the lounge. He sat you in a stool at the bar, Floyd jumping up to sit on the counter behind you, despite Azul’s protesting, as you told them what happened. You had almost gotten used to Floyd coming up behind you and resting his chin on top of your head at this point, so it was no surprise that he did it when you were trying to explain.

More time passed than Jade expected. You’d dealt with Jamil and Vil’s overblots and Floyd was still following you around. He noticed his brother snap at anyone else who got too friendly with you, and watched as he brought you little gifts nearly every day. A tooth here, a scale there, he even found you a pearl once. He followed you around more often than not, to the point where Azul wrote up an employee contract for you to get paid to sit in the Lounge so Floyd would show up for work and stay for his entire shift. Most of your classmates avoided you like the plague, even when Floyd wasn’t around. Even your friends were almost too intimidated to hang around. Almost. They stuck around when Floyd was busy with something else, often asking if you were okay, if you were in danger. You always waved them off, claiming that Floyd was mostly harmless. Interesting.

You were in the lounge, getting paid to sit at the bar so Floyd would do his job. You’d tried to sit in the booths before, but it was apparently too far away for Floyd’s liking as he would wander out of the kitchen and join your table, food orders piling up while he just sat with you. So Azul moved you to the bar, designating a seat for you where Floyd could see you through the window. You pretended not to notice when Azul would grumble about this “silly infatuation” Floyd had. You knew he liked having you around, he had mentioned that he thought your reactions were hilarious, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call it an infatuation. Sure, you flirted here and there, but you just kinda figured that was part of his whole vibe. You were working on your homework at the bar when there was a clatter from the kitchen, followed by Floyd letting out a long string of curses and the telltale bang that he’d just kicked something. You glanced around quickly, trying to see if Jade or Azul were nearby to go in and check on him, only to find them both busy with their tables. You hopped off your bar stool and wandered to the kitchen door, pushing it open just enough to poke your head in. Floyd was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing at the side of his head and pouting, looking down at something in his hand.

“Floyd?” You called out, catching his attention. “You okay?”

He looked over quickly, pouting even harder as he did. “Shrimpyy...” He groaned as he wandered over, pulling you into the kitchen proper and draping himself over your shoulders like he usually did. He stared you in the eyes for a moment before looking down at what was in his hand again, prompting you to also look down. Shining blue scales and jump rings in a pile in his hand. You looked back up at him, tilting your head slightly to see that the only part of his earring that was still there was the post itself.

“Oh, what happened?” You asked, reaching up to take the post out of his ear.

“I caught it on that damn shelf,” he huffed, glaring over at it like he could set it on fire, “Azul’s never fucking in here, why’s it matter to him if I move the damn thing higher up so I don’t bash my fucking head?”

His ear wasn’t bleeding, as far as you could tell. You dropped the post into your palm and held your hand under his for him to pass you the rest of the pieces. He just stared at you for a moment before tilting his head in confusion.

“I’ve got a needle nose back at Ramshackle,” you explained, not moving your hand away, “I can bring it back to you in the morning.”

He just blinked at you for a moment before carefully dumping the rest of the pieces into your hand. “Careful with it, our mom made us these before we started middle school.”

“I’ll be careful.” You promised, extracting yourself out from underneath him.

He just watched as you gently folded your fingers around the pieces and walked out of the kitchen, too much going through his head to make a bigger reaction. You headed back to your spot to gather up your things, catching Azul’s attention from where he was making a coffee.

“Done with your work?” He asked from behind the bar.

“No, something came up,” you shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder, still gently cradling the earring pieces to your chest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and concern as he watched you walk out of the lounge. He’d seen you come out of the kitchen... He put the coffee down and walked back into the kitchen, where Floyd was still standing in the same spot, rubbing at his earlobe.

“What was that?” Azul asked, crossing his arms.

“I think I’m getting married.” Floyd responded casually before turning back to the prep table.

“What does that mean?!”

You’d had to go to Sam’s to pick up more jump rings, one of them having gotten lost or snapped when the earring broke. Sam really did stock everything, and you were glad for it. It didn’t take long at all to put the pieces back together. Three scales, the tracks still in place, it was just the jump rings that had stretched open with the strain. You decided to just replace the rings all together rather than risk the metal fatigue on such a small wire. You finished it with enough time to finish your homework before bed. The next morning before classes, you headed over to Octavinelle. You were hoping to find Floyd in the student lounge, or maybe Mostro, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You’d been to the twins’ room before when Floyd insisted on showing you a new pair of sneakers he’d gotten for basketball, so you knew where it was. You weren’t particularly excited about dropping in unannounced so early in the morning, however. You wandered down the hallway towards their room, other students giving you a wide berth as you passed, muttering behind your back. Ever since Floyd started following you around, it was always the Octavinelle students that had the most to talk about, and they weren’t exactly subtle. But you ignored it as you always did as you approached the twins’ door and knocked, it’s not like their gossip could bother you unless you let it, right? You only had to wait a moment before the door swung open revealing Jade, hair half ironed and a confused look on his face. The look only lasted a moment though, quickly turning to a smirk before he turned to go back to his desk, leaving the door open for you. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, Jade sitting down to return his focus to his flat iron. Floyd was still asleep on his side of the room, face down, tangled up in his blankets and hoodie, one arm dangling off the bed. You walked over and set your bag down next to the bed, leaning down to put a hand on his shoulder and shake him gently. You didn’t get the chance to shake. The second your hand hit his shoulder, his eyes flew open, the hand that had been brushing the floor shot up to grab you by the lapel of your jacket. It only took a second for him to adjust, his murderous look quickly shifting to a wide, sleepy grin as he let go of your jacket.

“Shrimpyy~” He crooned through a yawn, grabbing your arm to pull you on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

“Floyd--!” You yelped as he yanked you into bed, arms coiling tightly around you.

He hummed pleasantly, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “You should wake me up every morning, you’re much nicer than Jade~!”

“If only it were always that easy to wake you.” Jade chimed in.

“Ya don’t haffta dump cold water on me, ya know.” Floyd snapped, arms tightening around you as he turned his head to glare at his brother.

“Sometimes that is the only way, Floyd.” Jade grinned wickedly at him before turning off the flat iron and standing up. “Do try not to stay here all morning, we still have classes to get to.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd huffed, burrowing his head back into your shoulder as Jade left the room.

Once Jade was gone, you pushed up slightly from Floyd’s grasp, pushing his face to the side to get better access to his ear. He laughed at your antics until he felt you slide his earring back into place, one hand darting up to feel the fixed jewelry. He looked shocked for a moment as he turned his head back to you before laughing in delight, both arms coiling around you and twisting you to lay next to him on the bed between him and the wall, the two of you now facing each other on your sides, your legs still draped over his. He didn’t say anything as he nuzzled back into your shoulder, and for a moment you thought it was just him being sweet, until you felt his teeth dig into the bend of your neck.

“FLOYD!” You shrieked, instinctively grabbing the hair at the base of his skull and yanking.

It did little to deter him, his sharp teeth digging further into the soft skin of your neck painfully. After what felt like a very long moment, you felt his teeth slide back out, replaced by his tongue dragging over the wound. The sensation made you shiver as he did it again, pain rippling up your neck.

“What the hell was that for?!” You asked as he finally pulled back, a little bit of your blood on his bottom lip.

“What, I can’t say thank you?” He asked in a teasing tone, his hands running down your back as he moved in closer, eyes locked with yours. “Yer all red~”

“That hurt, Floyd.” You snapped.

“Hm... could bite me back, it’d make ya feel better.” He yawned again before flashing his teeth at you in a grin that felt slightly menacing.

“No thanks.” You huffed, moving to sit up again. He gave you a confused look as you climbed back over him to get off the bed. “I gotta meet up with Jamil before class starts, I’ll see you later.”

He sat up, watching after you as you left the room, looking more and more confused the further away you got. He waited a few minutes to be sure you were gone before he rolled out of bed, not bothering to get dressed before heading to Azul’s office. He was pouting when he slammed open the door, startling Azul away from his paperwork, Jade casually looking up from a page he was reviewing.

“Ah, Floyd. Did everything go well?” Jade asked, the question alone making Floyd kick over a chair before flopping onto the couch.

“No.” He spat out, curling up on his side, facing the back of the couch.

“What in the world are you two on about now?” Azul sighed heavily, glancing between the two of them.

“Well, whyever not?” Jade asked, ignoring Azul’s question.

“They fixed my earring!” Floyd grumbled, turning his head to display it. “And they didn’t even bite me back!”

Azul and Jade exchanged glances for a second, before Azul chimed in. “You... bit Yuu?”

“Duh!”

“Well, they are a human, perhaps they don’t--”

“I’m sure it just startled them, and they will return your affections when they are ready.” Jade said over Azul, hoping more than anything to just watch the chaos unfold.

“But they fixed my earring!” He whined, pouting at his brother, apparently not having heard Azul.

“They are human, it’s likely humans take things slower.”

Azul threw his hands up slightly, glancing around as if to confirm with someone else that he was actually in the room.

“Fiiine...”

Things changed slightly after you fixed Floyd’s earring. He’d bit you really hard, it was likely going to end up leaving a scar behind. But every day afterwards, you caught him staring at you more, as if expecting you to do something. After a few days of him staring so intently, you ended up attempting to do a backflip on the grass in the courtyard. Attempt being the operative word. You got most of the way through it before belly flopping into the ground. It was better than you thought you would do, and it made him bust out laughing as he jogged over to check on you. Every day his stare seemed to get more and more intense, but not much else changed. His gifts were coming a little more frequently, he even made you a little necklace with a chain, some wire, and another pearl he’d found, and he was still hovering enough to keep most of your classmates away. Almost a week out and your neck was still sore and bruised. You were eating lunch in the cafeteria with the freshman group when you turned your neck wrong, catching a painful spot and causing you to reach up and massage it.

“You alright?” Epel asked when you accidentally bumped him with your elbow.

“Yeah, sorry, just hurts.” You grumbled.

“What does?”

“Floyd fucking bit me last week.” You sighed, rolling your shoulder a bit as you put your hand down. “Like, really hard.”

“Dude, he bit you?” Ace asked through an amused snort, getting you to glare at him.

“...How hard?” Jack asked hesitantly, Ace snickering behind his hand.

“Hard enough to bleed, probably gonna scar.” You complained, popping the top button on your shirt and moving the collar of your shirt aside for them to see it. “Jamil helped me clean it up, but even he thinks it’s gonna leave a mark.”

Jack’s eyes widened for a moment before he looked back down at his lunch, cheeks dusted pink and ears flattening backwards. You shook his reaction off as Epel examined it a little closer.

“It doesn’t look infected, at least.” He confirmed, still grimacing. “Ya weren’t kiddin’ though, that looks rough.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna scar.” Deuce agreed, turning back to his lunch as you covered the mark up again. “At least you have a permanent reminder of NRC, even if you do go home.”

“Gee, I’m so incredibly thrilled.” You deadpanned, making him snort out a laugh.

Ace nudged Jack, who was still staring intently at his sandwich, with his elbow. “What’s up man? I know your puritanical beliefs don’t allow you to view ankles or whatever--” you nearly cackled at the quip, “--but it’s alright! They’re properly covered now!”

“You make me sound like a whore for showing my sinful neck.”

“Yeah, you heard me.”

You snickered before turning to Deuce and Epel. “Imagine if I had to show this shit to Rollo.”

“I think he’d die of a heart attack the second you opened your collar.” Deuce laughed, Epel chuckling along.

“Likely guy’d pop an aneurysm ‘fore a boner.” Epel chimed in.

The three of you going off on your tangent kept Jack from explaining what a bite like that meant. He figured you’d find out eventually. The topic changed entirely for the rest of the lunch period. Before lunch was over, however, someone plopped down beside you, cutting off any remaining conversation.

“Hey Floyd.” You said without having to look up, still working on the last bits of your lunch as he leaned on your shoulder with a sound that almost resembled a purr.

Ace and Deuce were already on their feet, quickly saying their goodbyes before scrambling away, obviously still traumatized by the contract fiasco. Epel patted your shoulder, careful of your injury, and said goodbye before leaving as well. Jack stayed for a moment, locking eyes with Floyd.

“What’s up, Sea Urchin?” Floyd drawled lazily, a dangerous smile on his face.

Jack shook his head and stood up. “Nothin’. See ya, Yuu.”

You waved to Jack as he left before looking at Floyd, who looked highly satisfied. “Well, you chased off all my friends. What’s up?”

“Meet me in the mirror chamber after class, okay?” He asked, sounding significantly more like a demand.

“What for?”

“It’s a surprise~”

You arrived at the mirror chamber not long after classes let out, having to drop your stuff back at Ramshackle before going. The second you walked through the door, Floyd was in front of you, shoving a potion into your arms.

“Drink this!” He said excitedly before jogging over to the dark mirror.

You examined what he handed you, one of Azul’s water breathing potions, and quirked an eyebrow at him as you moved to join him by the mirror.

“Floyd, where are we going?” You asked, trying not to get exasperated by his antics.

“Less thinkin’ more drinkin’!” He commanded, popping the cork out of the bottle for you.

He nearly lifted it to your lips before you pulled it out of his reach. You sighed heavily before chugging down the disgusting potion while Floyd nearly bounced with excitement. Once the bottle was empty, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you after him into the mirror, the dizzying transition into the water causing you to squeeze you eyes shut to ward off the vertigo. Once you opened your eyes again, Floyd was in his natural form, absolutely beaming at you before wrapping his arms around your waist and speeding away.

“Floyd!” You laughed as he spun you around, clearly heading in a specific direction. “Where are we going?!”

“You’ll see, quit askin’!” He laughed back at you, twisting in the opposite direction to wrap his tail fin around your legs for a moment.

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, holding onto his shoulders as he cut through the water. You could barely see the scenery of the ocean floor as it whipped past, occasionally able to catch glances of schools of fish as they scattered away from Floyd. The further you went, the darker it got, until you were just able to make out glowing speckles along his arms, up his shoulders, around his neck. It looked like the night sky and you couldn’t stop staring, even as he slowed down. You were finally broken out of the trance when he stopped, laughing as he looked down at you.

“Yer like a fish, distracted by anything shiny.” He teased as he set you down.

Now that you were able to look around, you could see that he brought you to a cave. He’d sat you in the middle on a nicely angled stone in the only patch of light that was filtering in from a hole at the top that was letting in the sun.

“Where are we?” You asked, turning to look at him again, only to find he’d disappeared.

Your head whipped around as you tried to spot him. He wouldn’t just leave you here, right?

His laughter bounced off the cave walls, making it impossible to pinpoint where he actually was. “A cave. Don’t worry, I scoped it out, ain’t nothin’ livin’ in here.”

“Okay... Why are we here, then?”

You spotted the bright flecks of his skin above you on a shaded overhang, lounged out on his stomach on the very edge, glowing yellow eye peering down at you. He grinned as you made eye contact, but you could only see it in the way his gaze narrowed.

“Cause I figured out why ya wouldn’t bite me.” He explained, not moving from his spot. “Too many people around ya, all the damn time! No way to getcha alone back at school, so...” his arms fanned out as if displaying the cave, “ta-da! Nobody’s gonna interrupt us here!”

“You... want me to bite you?” You asked, confused, watching his proud expression blink into blank.

“Yeah?”

“...Why?”

He blinked a few more times before propping himself up on his elbows to look at you better. You could see him a little better now, he almost looked offended.

“What’dya mean why?” He asked, hostility creeping into his tone as he leaned over the edge of the overhang. “Do ya not wanna bite me?”

You paused, trying to search your memory for any clue as to what he would be talking about and coming up blank. “Why would I?” Is what came out after a moment.

His brows furrowed as he pushed off the overhang, swimming over to you. He circled you slowly, searching your expression with each pass as his tail fin got closer and closer to holding you in place. When he finally stopped, his tail was wrapped loosely around you, almost like a threat, as he looked you dead in the eyes. He looked upset, confused... hurt?

“Why wouldn’t you?” He asked back with an angry pout. “Ya fixed my earring, didn’tcha? I didn’t even ask, ya just did it.”

You blinked rapidly at the whiplash, getting even more confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His confused expression matched yours now, less upset than before as he moved in closer, examining your eyes for a moment before pulling back again and furrowed his brows like he was about to crack the code. Before you could ask any of the hundred questions dancing around your head, he popped the top button on your shirt and yanked your collar aside to see the bite mark. He met your eyes again, pointing at the mark.

“What is this?” It sounded more like he was explaining shapes to a toddler.

“That’s where you bit me.” You snapped, swatting his hand away only for him to lean in closer, tail tightening around you.

“What does it mean?”

You gave him another confused look as he stared you down steadily. Your eyes drifted away for a second as you thought about it, shaking your head as you met his eyes. “You said it was to say thank you? Helluva thanks, by the way, shit hurts.”

He looked confused again, searching your expression for any hint that you were messing around. Finding none, he narrowed his eyes at you for a second before smiling and tilting his head to the side.

“Shrimpy doesn’t know what the bite means~” He teased, tail squeezing you a bit tighter before letting go as he resumed his lazy circles around you. “Betcha didn’t know what fixin’ my earring meant either, huh? Oh shit, you probably didn’t know about our dance either!”

“What is happening right now...?” You sighed heavily, catching his eye every time he floated into your vision.

On one of his passes he scooped you up, moving to sit on the rock himself and placing you in his lap, one leg on either side of his tail. He grabbed you by the chin, tilting your head to the side to examine the bite closer as he laughed.

“That day in front of the museum,” he started quietly, close to your ear, “when I grabbed ya and threw ya outta the water... you remember?” You nodded slowly, feeling him smile against your jaw. “You thought it was fun, I thought that was real cute. That spinnin’ that I did was flirtin’, I was dancin' with ya.”

“What--?”

“So’s all the little things I getcha...” His hands moved down to your waist, ignoring the question he’d interrupted. “I was gettin’ pretty confused why you weren’t get me anything, til you fixed my earring...” He turned his head, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “See, jewelry’s real important for us merfolk. Gettin’ jewelry usually means a lot, means ya really care if you’re outside the family. Like ya wanna stick around. I thought it was real weird that ya used my own earring, but yer also poor. I thought that was your way of sayin’ ya wanted to stick around...” You glanced at his earring, surprised Floyd of all people had put so much meaning behind what you thought was just a kind gesture. Different cultures, you supposed. He nipped at your ear as you tried to turn to look at him, a warning to stay where you were. “S’why I bit ya... Means you’re mine.” His fingers tightened on your waist. “Thought that’s whatcha meant when ya fixed it...”

Your heart pitched at the sad tone in his voice. You knew the two of you had been flirting, turns out you didn’t know just how extensively. Your fingers flexed at his shoulders as he leaned the side of his head against yours, staring at the bite mark. What’s a bite, anyways? It got you where you ultimately wanted, which was dating Floyd. You sighed heavily, before leaning forward, and biting down as hard as you could on the same place he’d put yours. You heard his breath hitch before he broke into laughter, and you didn’t stop until you tasted blood mixed with the salt water. When he started to bleed, he tugged at your hair, pulling you off him. He looked delighted as he met your eye, tail fin snaking up behind you and wrapping around your waist.

“Aww, Shrimpyy~” He cooed, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“Coulda just told me that’s what that was about.” You scoffed, gently rubbing the area around the wound you’d created.

He shrugged, rubbing his nose against yours as he pulled you tighter against his chest. “No backin’ out now~” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, about to quip back when he pulled you the rest of the way in, closing the distance. His lips were a lot softer than you expected as they moved against yours, sharp teeth nipping against your bottom lip when he grinned into the kiss. He tried to follow when you backed off, needing air, until he saw your hand fly to your neck. You needed air. He barely got out an “oh shit” as he unraveled his tail before he took off with you in his arms, speeding out of the cave and shooting up towards the surface. Once you broke the surface, he gave you a second to catch your breath.

"I didn't grab another potion." He laughed. "How long can you hold your breath?"

You rolled your eyes again, pulling him into another quick kiss. Quick turned sour as Floyd pulled you in, and you had a feeling there would be no such thing as a quick kiss with him.

“Ah, there you are, Yuu!” Jade called out as he approached you in the hallway, a delighted smile on his face.

“Hey Jade, what’s up?” You asked, ignoring how your friends shuffled off to the side to avoid Jade’s attention.

“I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your nuptials.” He beamed down at you.

“My what?”

“I was surprised when Floyd told me, of course,” he continued, ignoring your question, “it all happened very fast, and the two of you are so young, but isn’t that just the way of things?”

You looked desperately to your friends, Ace and Epel snickering and muttering to each other, Deuce looked shocked, and Jack was just shaking his head. There was no help to be found from any of them.

“Our mother is asking after you,” he kept going, making your head spin as you tried to process the information, “and I’m sure our father would also like to meet his new child-in-law--”

“Child-in-law?” You squeaked out.

“--so we will need to make arrangements for introductions.” He paused for a moment, tapping a knuckle against his chin as he thought. “The two of you have stirred up quite a fuss, I’m sure Mother will want to make plans for a more formal affair... We’ll have to see about getting a row boat...”

“Why do we need a boat?”

“Oi!” You didn’t have time to turn towards the voice before a notebook sailed over your head, smacking Jade square in the face. When it dropped, so did Jade’s serious expression, now sporting the usual mischievous grin that he had whenever he was messing with someone. Floyd came up beside you, resting an elbow on your shoulder as he did, glaring at his brother. “I just got ‘em hooked, don’t be all weird and scare ‘em off.”

“What, I can’t tease them anymore now that they’re my sibling-in-law?” Jade drawled.

“Least wait til I get Ma on board.” Floyd grumbled before stooping down and tossing you over his shoulder.

“Floyd, what does he mean “nuptials?”” You asked quickly, Ace and Epel cackling at your expense as he carried you off. “What does he mean “in-law?””

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #twisted wonderland fic #mine #i realized something while i was writing this. im a jeweler. i could very easily make the tweels' earrings #and im a metal smith so i could probably make kalim's earrings too. they'd be bronze instead of gold but still #im actually highly considering it.

1K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 8 months ago

Text

Sweet as a Berry

Pairing: Farmer!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: You go to the local market to buy berries and meet the man of your dreams.

Word Count: Over 3.5k

Warnings: Fluff, meet-cute, flirting, tension, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?)

A/N: Welcome to my Bountiful Harvest AU ( or Farmer Fall as discussed with @thezombieprostitute and @witchywithwhiskey ) and our intro to farmer!Bucky. Thanks to @yenzys-lucky-charm and @targaryenvampireslayer for letting me babble about this man. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Your weekly trip to the farmers market was one you looked forward to. A place for merchants to come together to offer an abundance of products, there was always something to browse or discover. Today you only had one thing on your list: berries for your pies. Frozen fruit did the job, but you preferred to bake your pies with fresh fruit. Buying from the market was also a way to support local farmers. Maybe one day you'd even bag a handsome farmer for yourself. It was a silly fantasy, of course, but your mind liked to wander some days.

Not that there was anything wrong with city men, but they couldn't compare to a man working on a farm. There was just something about a guy who knew how to work with nature and provide, wasn't intimidated by hard work or afraid to get his hands dirty, and had a strong body and character due to his work ethic. You liked to think you’d make a good wife and take care of him the way he’d take care of you. You also liked to imagine a handsome man walking inside after a long day and stripping down and wanting dessert before a hearty meal. And by dessert, you meant you.

For now, you were only a farmer’s wife in your dreams and journal.

The gravel crunched under your tires as you turned down the road, the market coming into focus. You made good time and managed to snag a decent parking space. A little bit of walking wouldn’t hurt. Plus the day was nice enough that you wore one of your sundresses, the soft breeze pleasant against your skin once you got out of your car.

Lively chatter greeted you as you got closer to the stalls and booths and expertly weaved your way through the bustling crowd. The various produce and flowers created a kaleidoscope of colors, brightened more by the brilliant rays coming from the sun. The earthy fragrance that blended with the sweet and ripe aromas was one you only encountered here. There was nothing else quite like it.

Quick movement in front of you made you come to a stop, your heart jumping. Had you not been paying attention you would've collided with a little boy. “Mama, there's Dada! He’s getting honey!” He shouted as he ran past and threw his arms around a man’s legs.

“Walk, please, and watch where you're going!” His mother said after him, a both fond and exasperated look on her face as she gave you a tired smile. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“No apologies,” you smiled. He hadn't done anything wrong. “I wish I had that energy.”

“Same. I’d bottle and sell it,” she said over her shoulder.

Watching as the woman went to her son and husband, both of them looking at her like the sun rose today because of her, you felt a twinge of sadness. Your trips to the market were solo, always had been. You longed to have a partner to go with, someone to put his arm around you or hold your hand as you picked out items together. Even better if the two of you could make a family down the line.

With a wistful smile, you shook yourself from those thoughts. There was no reason to feel sorry for yourself. Just because you didn't have that in the present didn't mean it wouldn't happen in the future. You had to have faith that the right one would come along at the right time.

For now, you would find some berries and be on your way.

Walking a bit further, you spotted a booth you hadn't seen in your previous visits. The sign that read “Barnes’s Berries” complete with hand painted fruit pieces piqued your curiosity as you stopped in front of it. As the customers in front of you paid for their bundles and blocked the view of the person assisting them, you took a minute to admire the range of berries reflecting a spectrum from blues to reds. Your mouth watered from the sight. There were so many things you could do with these. Pies, jams, cakes-

A deep, husky voice asked, “Is there anything I can help you with?”

You made some sort of sound as you turned around, your heart pounding in your chest. The man in front of you was tall with thick thighs that deliciously filled out his jeans. The rolled up plaid shirt exposed part of his arms. The left was covered in tattoos and the ink couldn't hide the muscles or veins. If anything, it accentuated his strength. His chest and shoulders seemed to go on for miles, too. The chestnut hair that fell below his chin and stubble on his face gave the already handsome man a rugged look.

Sapphire eyes crinkled when you made eye contact and he smiled so softly that you couldn't help but smile in return. A man of his size and stature working a berry stand when he looked like he could easily chop wood or build his own home was otherworldly. He didn't just step out of your fantasy. He took your thoughts and made them better than you could've imagined.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” He asked again a bit hesitantly when you didn’t answer his question. “If you're still looking, please, take your time.”

“You’re real, right?” You asked, your face heating up as the words left your mouth. A giggle followed because you couldn’t believe you just said that. “What I meant to say is, yeah. Just looking for now,” you added to save face, smoothing out your dress for no reason.

Amusement filled his eyes, the soft smile still tugging at his lips. “I sure hope I’m real and not just a figment of your imagination.”

You wished you could reach out and touch him to “prove” he was real, but didn’t want to weird him out. “Not a figment of my imagination,” you said, but that wasn’t totally true. You very much imagined a man like him when you were alone at night. “But I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” It wasn't like you knew every single vendor, but you would've remembered him.

He sure as hell had a face worth remembering.

“I’m Bucky,” he introduced, offering you his hand. His grip was gentler than you expected, but there was no mistaking the roughness in his touch. The man worked with his hands and it showed. “This is actually my first week here.”

You said your name, proud that you remembered it with the way he was staring so intently at you. He stood a bit close, too. Close enough that you could smell his woodsy cologne. Subtle, yet enticing. “I hope everyone has been welcoming.”

“Most have been very friendly, which has made my job easy,” he said. You could imagine with his looks and friendly demeanor despite his size that he’d have a lot of repeat customers. “A couple of my friends recently started selling here, too, so it’s good to have some familiar faces close by.”

“That’s really nice. I’m sure they're glad you're close by, too,” you smiled. You wondered who his friends were. “Did you have to travel far to get here?”

“Yeah, they’re good guys,” he smiled back, your heart racing when he ran a hand through his hair. “Not too far since my farm is only a few miles away, which also makes things easier. Makes me wonder why I didn't do this sooner.”

You nearly swooned. Your dream man was becoming dreamier by the second. “You have a farm not too far from here?”

It would’ve been easy to assume he did since he had a stand here, but not everyone who worked the market had their own land. It was also easy to assume he wasn't married since you didn't see a ring on his left hand or any sort of tan line or indentation to indicate that he removed a ring. A man like that though probably had a partner. It wasn't worth getting your hopes up.

“Yeah. I have a few acres. Beautiful place. but if I’m being honest it gets a bit lonely since it’s just me out there with no one to share it with.” He scratched the back of his neck with a small chuckle and avoided your gaze. “I don't know why I said that. That’s kind of embarrassing.”

Your stomach did a funny flip. Not just because he pretty much let it slip that he wasn't with anyone when you assumed moments ago that he was, but from the urge to comfort him taking over. You wished you could wrap him in a hug.

“Well, I don't have a farm, but I understand feeling lonely some days,” you admitted. Being vulnerable with a complete stranger wasn't how you expected your day to go, but you wanted him to know he wasn't alone in that feeling. “And it’s not embarrassing,” you assured him. If anything, it was endearing.

He slowly met your gaze. “I appreciate that.” He rubbed the back of his neck again as your heart began to race. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but I find it hard to believe that someone as sweet and beautiful as you gets lonely.”

The compliment left you momentarily dazed before a shy smile graced your face. You could've said the same thing about him. Maybe the instant connection you felt wasn’t so one-sided. “Well, I do. Even coming here, I’m usually by my lonesome” you said, the words not at all bitter. Just honest. “And do you call all potential customers sweet and beautiful?”

“No, I don’t.” He continued to gaze at you before he cleared his throat. “But you said potential customer. If I made you uncomfortable…”

“You didn’t.” It was gentlemanly that he wanted to make sure that his comment didn’t put you off. “There’s a stand a little further down that I sometimes stop at, though your berries are extremely tempting.”

Bucky’s brows pinched before he snapped his fingers. “Jed, right? He’s actually not here this week. Had an accident recently. Broke his leg.”

You gasped. “Oh, my god. That’s awful.” Jed was a kind, older farmer who had been there for as long as you could remember. A hard worker who didn’t deserve any kind of pain. “I hope he heals quickly.”

Bucky nodded solemnly. “So, do I,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’m no Jed, but is there anything I can do to get your business today?”

The hopeful look in his blue eyes had you smiling slightly. “Well, I-”

“Wait. Let me try to guess what you’re specifically looking for before you tell me.” He waited until you nodded. “Clearly berries, but not for anything like a fruit salad or an everyday snack,” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and you tried not to giggle when he grinned triumphantly. “Pies. You want berries to make pies. Blueberries, right? Maybe blackberries, too. And if I had to pick a third, raspberries.”

Your mouth fell open. Was he a mind reader? “Yeah, that’s exactly it. Blueberries, blackberries, and raspberries. I have this triple berry pie recipe that I love and I make the crust from scratch and…” You bit your lip to keep from rambling. He didn’t need to hear all that. “Sorry. I just like to bake.”

“No apologies.” His light touch to your arm surprised you as he met your gaze. “You sound very passionate about it and I like that.”

You found yourself nodding, unable to tear your gaze away. It took everything within you to not blurt out how gorgeous he was. And on top of that, he was kind? Maybe he wasn’t real. “I am passionate about it. And not just pies. Other treats, too,” you said, nodding to the strawberries. “Those would be perfect for mini shortcakes or scones.”

He studied you with an appreciative smirk. The sundress was a good choice. “I have no doubt your treats are delicious and you are making me very hungry,” he said, your heart thudding. The smirk disappeared as quickly as it appeared when he gestured to his stand. “And I think they’ll be tastier with my berries.”

You blinked, stuck on the fact that he called your treats delicious. It wasn’t a big deal. It wasn’t like he called you delicious and he hadn’t tasted anything of yours, though you’d find a way to bake something and deliver it to him personally if he asked. “You sound very confident, Bucky.”

He puffed his chest out. “I take a lot of pride in all my crops. Tell you what,” he said, stepping away from you to grab a sample cup. “Why don’t you try some and see how you like them? If they aren't the best berries you’ve ever tasted, I’ll shut my stand down and let you on your way.”

“You’ll really shut your stand down? That’s a big wager,” you smiled, his fingers touching yours as he handed the cup over. It heated you up all over again. “The look of them alone is amazing,” you said, the vibrant berries beckoning for you to have a bite.

“Taste amazing, too, but I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

Bucky shot you a dazzling smile as you tried the blueberry first since that was the berry you were most interested in purchasing today. You didn’t care if it was mortifying, you outright moaned at the flavor when you bit down on the small and plump piece of fruit. Not overly sweet or acidic as the juice coated your tongue. It was the perfect balance. So much that you licked your lips and craved another.

Your eyes honed in on the rise and fall of Bucky’s chest before your gaze flickered to his face. His eyes were darker and you realized after a moment that he was staring at your mouth. A look like that could’ve made you choke on your breath, but it somehow gave you a burst of confidence. Testing the waters, you tried the blackberry next and made a show of licking your lips again at the sweet and succulent taste. The groan he let out shot a burst of heat between your legs.

God, he looked like he was ready to eat you whole.

“Delicious,” you said in a sultry voice you didn't recognize.

“You, um…” He brought a hand up and brushed his thumb along the corner of your mouth. You quivered when he showed you the drop of juice that you missed. Without breaking eye contact, he licked the drop away. It was a look that melted your insides when he said in a gruff tone, “You're right. Delicious.”

“Excuse me?” A woman spoke, making you jump back a bit from Bucky and pulling you both out of the moment. She might as well have dumped a bucket of cold water over your head. “I’d like to buy these.”

Your heart continued to race when you saw disappointment flash in his eyes. “Go ahead,” you smiled. He was there to do a job after all, not chat and flirt with you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky turned his head toward the customer. “Of course, ma’am,” he smiled, still glancing back at you momentarily as if was afraid you’d walk away if he didn’t keep an eye on you.

Biting your lip, you held in a giggle as you tossed the sample cup into the small wastebasket. You swore you felt him gazing at you as you gathered up the bundles. Maybe you didn’t need to bend so far over to get the last bundle, but was it wrong that you wanted him to look? It wasn’t every day that you had a kind, handsome farmer flirting with you. It would have you walking on cloud nine for the rest of the day.

Turning toward the table to pay, you gasped when you nearly collided with Bucky. He managed to grab your arms to keep you from falling and you somehow didn’t drop a single bundle as he stared into your eyes. “You know, I think you’re even sweeter than my berries,” he spoke in a low voice, swiftly taking everything from your hands and lining them in a box before your brain could process what he said. “This everything then?”

“Yeah.” You blinked and got your money out to pay. “Thanks. And keep the change.”

He shook his head when he saw the amount you gave him. “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

“Please. I insist,” you smiled. He took a lot of pride in his work and any extra change could go toward that.

“I’ll keep it on two conditions,” he said, nodding to the box. “One, you let me be a gentleman and help you carry that to your car, that way you’re not stuck carrying it around.”

You nodded, butterflies in your stomach. “Okay, if you insist on being a gentleman.” He was nice enough that he wanted to step away from his stand and carry something for you. He really kept getting better and better. “And the second condition?” You asked with a coy smile. Maybe if you were lucky enough he’d ask for your number.

He reached behind him and presented you with another sample cup. “One more for the road? Please?”

You stamped down your disappointment that he didn’t ask for your number, which was more than okay. “How can I say no to that?” You popped the berries into your mouth without hesitation. They tasted ever sweeter than the first sample you had and you watched his eyes go to your neck as you swallowed. “Thanks. You really do have a gift,” you added to distract you from his heated gaze.

He looked humbled by the compliment. “I really do appreciate that,” he said, glancing over your shoulder to nod at someone. “Steve! You mind watching the stand until I get back? I’m gonna help her carry these to her car.”

You turned just in time to see a gorgeous blonde just as large as Bucky jog over from the stand across the way. “That’s nice of you, jerk. Real gentlemanly,” he smiled, giving you a small nod. “Ma’am.”

“Punk,” Bucky mumbled, but the affection was evident.

Another giggle worked its way out. Where did these men suddenly come from? Was there something in the water you didn’t know about? “You don’t need to call me ma’am, but thank you. And you’re right.” Your eyes went back to Bucky. “He is a gentleman.”

“And this is my cue to get you away from my friend before he says otherwise,” Bucky teased, steering you away with one hand while he balanced your fruit in the other.

“I don’t think I’ve seen him here either.”

“That was one of the friends I was talking about earlier. Has a farm, too, but his real passion is art,” he explained, his arm brushing against yours as he walked close. “He actually helped make my sign since I’m hopeless with that stuff.”

“That’s really nice,” you said, falling into a comfortable silence with him as you both maneuvered your way through the crowd. Once you got to the parking area, you pointed out your vehicle. “I’m just over there.”

Bucky’s gaze flickered over to you as you got your keys out. “I’m really glad you stopped at my stand today.”

Your heart fluttered when you caught the sun shining along his hair. “I’m glad I did, too,” you said softly, unlocking the car so he could set everything inside. Thank God it was clean. That would’ve been embarrassing. “But I should let you get back to work.”

He shifted on his feet, like he wasn’t quite ready to go. “Yeah, I should go.” He stepped forward and took a breath. “But I don’t think I can go back before I ask you to go on a date with me.”

You blinked. This wasn’t a drill. Bucky was asking you out. His tone was so gentle, his gaze so compelling. He was mesmerizing. He could’ve asked you to do anything and you likely would’ve done so without question.

“You want to take me out on a date?” You questioned, your mind screaming that your response was the wrong answer. This wasn’t a fantasy. It was really happening.

With an unsure chuckle, Bucky brushed a hand through his hair. “Too forward?” He smiled a little. “I’m sorry. I just thought that we…”

Your heart reacted to his uncertainty. It took a lot for anyone to put themselves out there and you wanted him to know it was worth the risk. “Not too forward at all, Bucky,” you smiled and placed your hand on his left arm, happy when he smiled back. “I'd love to go out with you.”

He took your hand in his when you went to pull your hand back. “I’m really glad you said yes,” he whispered.

“Me, too,” you sighed at his warm touch. It was the beginning of something special. You could tell. “So, when would you like to go on that date?”

And that is our intro! Now here is where it gets interesting: This story will go down two paths, one light and one dark. Be on the lookout for the continuation and choose your path (or choose both 😏). Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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takes1 · 1 year ago

Text

final part asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

skip the intro if you want again, (i marked the beginning of actual smut for ease of navigating) couldn't resist adding some kuroo stuff bc i love writing him even if its not sexual/thirst. this has turned a bit more into porn with plot forgive me i'm simple

warnings. heavy nsfw. minors DNI

info. nsfw / soft+rough kissy missionary sex / mentions of personal restraint / multiple orgasms / mentions of masturbation / gentle giant!asahi / asahi keeping your mouth shut / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / dacryphilia if you squint / sex toys (vibrator) / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 3.6k words / thanks for reading this asahi series!! it's been a delight!

haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part two here. part three here.

more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You chose some giant clothes to cover the fact that you weren't wearing anything underneath.

Then, with your security chair out of the way, you quietly slipped into the hall.

The familiar sound of Helldivers 2 on the entertainment speakers assaulted your ears. Of course, he got to invite friends over for the weekend.

You padded downstairs, the ache between your legs nearly unmanageable. You clenched your fists at the sight of his lazy ass as you walked behind the couch to get to the front door.

It was funny how quickly he zapped all desire from your body. You did not enjoy sobering up so quickly.

"I thought you said you were staying home!" Tetsurou called as soon as you grabbed the leash off of the rack.

You nearly pulled a muscle rolling your eyes so far back. You shook the thing violently from the doorway so he'd get it through his thick skull that you were literally doing what he texted you to do.

A couple voices muttered something, but your brother spoke volumes above it--

"Wait two seconds, shit-head!"

You clipped the hook into your dog's collar. To Hell with whatever he wanted. You unlocked the door and slipped on a pair of giant, black crocs.

That garbage pile gave you enough grief about your no-plans-plan in the past 12 hours to deserve being stranded on a barrel in the middle of the ocean. He could handle playing games with his friends while you went to walk the dog.

"C'mon, baby," You cooed and closed the door behind you.

It was, thankfully, nice and cold outside. You were glad you opted for some warm clothes.

"Where are my shoes?!" He yelled through the crack in the door. Almost to the end of the driveway, you didn't figure he had the gumption to follow you without them.

You pushed your hood up and pulled the strings.

A stop at the other side of the gate, and you waited for Maru to finish pissing in order to continue the walk. The big, empty street looked a little creepy in the dark.

flip!-flip!-flip!-flip!-flip!

You were glad to not be alone, but still threw your head back when he rounded the corner. His hands were shoved into his basketball shorts and he was shivering.

You both looked down to each other's feet at the same time. He had to put on your flip-flops, so his heels were hanging out the back and his grippers were on the pavement.

A silent exchange went down, one shoe at a time.

Now walking again, you returned to your baseline agitation.

"I don't need a bodyguard to walk the dog."

"Try being a little less stupid, and I'll trust you to not run off with the first guy you see."

You stopped dead in your tracks. "You think this is me sneaking out?"

He didn't respond quickly enough.

You kept walking, glad he was so cold that his teeth were chattering, "You're an idiot--."

He pushed you, unable or unwilling to argue.

"Why would I sneak out with the dog?" You muttered.

Another stop for Maru. It was silent, again, and you were wishing he would just go back by himself already.

"What's that smell?" He sounded ridiculously close to your head.

You looked up and realized that was because he was sniffing your hood. A sudden insecurity of smelling like sex flashed through you.

Pushing hard on his chest, you declared, "Fuck off."

It didn't send him flying the way you wanted it to. It only pissed him off, especially because he knew that smell from somewhere. He just couldn't recall exactly how right now.

You expected him to push or slap you back, so you tensed, but no such move was made.

"One day you'll thank me," He muttered with a grumpy chuckle.

A glance didn't do you any good. It was too dark to see his face.

"For what?" You rolled your eyes again.

It was quiet for so long that you were certain he had just been joking. As if he did anything to help you out, anyway. All he did was piss you off and get in your way.

"For making sure you don't get hurt."

Frustration on the tip of your tongue, you began to retort, "I--," but fell short of the will to say anything back for a minute.

Your glancing around in the dark didn't help you form any thoughts.

Maybe Asahi being so kind was just luck. Not the wise intuition you claimed to be guided by. There were already many times tonight that could've made a turn for the worse, and you hadn't realized until after the fact.

That didn't change how you felt, though, other than some newfound patience for Tetsurou's difficult, demanding nature.

Maru didn't want to go much further than the fifth lamp post, so your small party turned around before you could cross the street.

It was quiet on the way back. Just the jingle of your dog's collar and the flip-flip of these shoes you hated.

You rounded the corner and closed the gate behind you, Tetsurou opting to walk ahead since it was evident to him that there was no danger anymore.

It was just getting to be a comfortable silence when he had to speak up one last time.

"Has this tree always been sideways?"

You genuinely thought it was a joke, so you didn't spare a look when you crossed behind him to get inside. He caught you shoulder the way you hated so much and you swiped your hand to hit him, but saw what he was talking about and froze.

The both of you took a moment, dumbfounded, to stare at your lawn tree. It looked nearly snapped, like a hurricane had come through, but it hadn't rained in weeks. Nothing else was wrecked. Just the tree.

You felt guilty about it for just a second, but rationalized that it had nothing to do with you. You weren't sure what that was from.

"Maybe it was rotted from the inside?" You thought out loud.

He glanced around, suspicion at its full peak, and guided you inside swiftly by your upper back.

Tetsurou locked the door behind you and stayed stock-still, staring through the peephole for so long you didn't bother saying anything to him before heading back upstairs.

At your door, you heard him call to Kenma and Bokuto.

"Did one of you kick that tree in the yard?"

You collapsed against the door with a soft shut and an even softer sigh.

There was no time to deconstruct everything that was discussed, because your eyes followed a sound that nearly made you jump out of your skin.

The man took up so much of your bed. He was on his back, scarred knuckles brushed slowly up and down, a casual pump to quell his impatient cock.

His hand fit much better around it than yours. In his other hand, held closer to his face, he was clicking a small device- the familiar buzz of which inspired a complete takeover of tension between your legs.

Your embarrassment was no secret, and neither was his curiosity.

"I'd love to use this," He grinned and looked you up and down, undressing you with his eyes.

It took some effort to find the lock on the door and make your shaky way over to the bed. Like last time, he met you at the side.

However, you noticed that before you left, he didn't have the same edge in his brow, or the eagerness that defined the way he pulled you into him.

When you stumbled, he caught you and tilted your head for a restless kiss. He was shoving his hands under the waistband of your pants and humming a sort of approval against your cool lips. It sent your stomach back into those fluttery waves of excitement all over again.

"You should take your clothes off," He muttered, fully immersed in his desire since he never had to sober off of it.

"Yeah- I should," You breathed against his rough, needy lips.

You were slipping back in quickly, though, when he took your lips in a chaste, passionate kiss all over again. His hands were slipping over your skin, discarding your hoodie before you could do it yourself.

His whole body was warm, it felt like he was burning through you when you stepped out of your pants and fell against his front. Like a melting ice cube.

When he picked you up this time and set you down, it was less premeditated, more animalistic. You gave a giggling smile when he parted your legs for him.

Any shyness he had before was long-gone after 10 minutes of imagining what he was going to do to you- you squirmed at his spit-slick fingers slipping over your soaking cunt.

"Still so wet for me," He muttered, pleased, into your hair, while his massive body settled over you.

That intense, near-evolutionary drive kicked in again where you believed you could take whatever he wanted to give you all night. It may have been the smell of his sweat, it may have been his grumbly voice.

"Obviously," You smirked. He grinned at your confidence.

"We can take this slow," He rolled a condom on without wasting any extra time, "I don't wanna hurt you."

The statement floored you for a moment. He didn't notice as he lined himself up with your tightness.

It echoed in your brain during the most contradictory part possible.

He sank into you- it wasn't easy, but after hours of build-up -more if you counted the self-pleasure you couldn't resist before he arrived- it was beyond rewarding to watch all of the stress and worry on his brow melt away in one smooth, slow stroke.

"Fuck- fuck, fuck," You whined, his grasp on your hip reassuring, but still a pen in which you couldn't wriggle from or adjust against, "God-!"

Your thighs twitched on either side of him, forcibly relaxed- you tried to catch your breath, but felt like your lungs were too constricted to do so.

His thumb brushed your cheek.

Patience and gentleness in the midst of it all allowed you to breathe a little easier.

Only kindness, with a hint of pity, remained in his expression as you gasped and struggled to ease up around his cock.

He looked away for a moment, his hand leaving the side of your face, and you heard a saving grace.

Asahi did you the liberty of placing it against your clit. His face lit up at the sight and sound of your newfound gratification.

"I bet that feels better, huh?" He smiled against your parted lips, stealing a few of your moans with an excited kiss.

There was a hard-to-pin inquisitiveness about his attitude surrounding your vibrator. Like he was dying to use it on you, feel you writhe around his still cock.

"Ohh my god-! Ah-Mn!" You cried against his lips.

It was met with chuckle and the slow pump of his hips sinking deeper into you.

It dulled the discomfort of his size, leaving only a feeling of fullness between your legs, a satisfied craving, and the intense waves of pleasure from your clit.

His pretty face and perfect body over you- how could you not just announce your paradise to everyone in the city?

One hand laced in yours, and you took control of your vibrator to swirl it the way you preferred while he picked up his leisurely pace.

He barely caught your high-pitched tone at the combination with an alarmed kiss.

Stalling, he warned, "You gotta be quiet," and leaned to press further kisses against your neck.

He quickly learned that you weren't going to stay that way for him, even if his balls were allegedly on the line.

The feeling of him going deeper, your thighs bouncing from his weight that shifted your entire body, and the building waves over your clit.

"Asahi," Came out in a needy moan.

"Shhh," He cooed, gripping the bottom half of your face to get your focus on him.

The beat of his thighs against the back of yours stole your attention instead- you squeezed against his palm with furrowed brows.

Another noisy cry at his size splitting through you, and he instinctively covered your mouth to shut you up.

He thrust hard into you and stayed there, earning a pitiful whimper, and leaned in close to catch your avoidant eyes.

A mutter against your heated skin, "Do I need to keep you quiet?"

His cock was stretching you beyond your limits- that steely look in his pretty brown eyes was so layered.

You clenched around him, butterflies attacking you now, of all times, at his stern tone, but genuine concern.

A gorgeous smile spread across his features when you nodded, helpless, but honest.

He felt too good- he filled you up better than you had imagined. You were stunned to feel that you were already close. There was just no possible way.

This wasn't how you wanted it to go.

It was too soon- you didn't want it to be over so quickly. But now, of course, you realized you didn't have the physical capacity to take him all night.

You tried moving the overwhelming buzz away from your needy clit, but met the resistance of his hand instead.

He pressed just enough to guide you right to an edge you couldn't pull back from. You whimpered against his palm.

You couldn't tell him you were about to cum. You couldn't move away, or speak, nor did you possess the will to push against him. All you did was claw, weak, across his back.

The look in his eyes responded to your subtle panic-pleasure without a word. A gentle fondness that he shouldn't have been capable of while he gave you his rougher strokes.

He removed his hand from your mouth just to swallow your sounds with a starved kiss, an avid grumble at the back of his throat when you took his tongue so well.

"Mm-!" You squeaked, nails digging deep red trenches into his shoulder.

It was an ultimate submission you never had the insurance to safely experience before.

You got the chance for a gasp before getting cut off -half a second before you could alert the entire house- by his huge palm again.

Asahi groaned as you tightened around him. He quickly shut himself up by flexing away the pleasure and leaning down to pant, warm breath spilling against your ear.

"Shh- I got you," His kindhearted whisper strung you along, crushing you underneath his weight, while he repeated that sweet promise, "I got you, baby."

All your worry of it being too soon dissipated as your orgasm wracked through your entire body and filled you with pure bliss. He fucked you hard and steady through it and didn't even grant you the dignity of looking away from him.

Your chest was tight at the end of it, eyes stinging, and you would've sobbed if he wasn't still keeping you quiet.

He watched your journey the whole time through your eyes, wholly captivated by your big, glossy fixation on him. When you blinked away the burn, he took no time to kiss them away.

Your body naturally relaxed, a twitchy and overstimulating process.

He slowed for you after he sucked the rest of your complicated tears up.

He was so heavy, so adamant on keeping your noise down that you couldn't tell him to stop. You weren't sure that you would try, even if he wasn't hindering your communication. The fact that you trusted him so much right now wasn't necessarily wise, but it felt right.

His growing intensity didn't hurt, but it didn't start to feel good until a raspy voice told you:

"Feels so good," He swallowed the spit gathered in his mouth and seethed, a light chuckle breezing past his lips, "You got no fuckin' clue."

That was just kind of sinful confession that gave you nervous chills even though he was already fucking you senseless.

He studied how your eyes clouded over at his words. A restrained, toothy smile nudged your jaw in a sugary kiss.

"I'm not gonna be able to get enough of you," He finally took his hand off of your lips and you were able to gasp at the impact of his words.

When he readjusted, he swept your legs up to his shoulders and dipped back down.

"A-Ah!" You barely choked out before he moved his hand back to its diligent place over your loud mouth.

He was so deep- you felt like he'd split right through you. Yet, you welcomed the possibility with the blessing of another steady-growing climax.

Yet, only one of you was so careless. He was so tender, so considerate because he could feel it, too. How fragile you really were in this position in regards to his size.

"God," He sighed at your loving stare.

"Gonna- ah, make me cum, lookin' at me like that," He groaned, a bit strained.

He finally dipped his head with closed eyes at the sweet, slick heat he just wanted to bury himself in. He couldn't get too carried away, now that it was starting to get difficult.

Your shitty stamina stroked his ego so much that he forgot he wouldn't be too far behind for a while. He got a bit ahead of himself and was paying for it with the climbing pressure in his stomach.

Your pussy was reason enough to fuck you harder, but that face was what really tested him.

His hand twitched at the compelling desire to hear you scream for him, but again, had to keep his sanity for the two of you. Next time he would make sure that brother of yours wouldn't be in the way.

He tried to keep an edge going, but found it laughably difficult to settle down.

If it wasn't your Fuck-me-harder eyes building up the needing to cum, it was your cute tits squished against your soft, scratched-up thighs, right under his chest.

It was impossible to keep himself from riding that high in the end.

As if to spite him, to completely spend all of his restraint, your watery eyes rolled back again. Your muffled whines filled his ears as you tightened once more around him, weaker this time but still more than enough to send him over the edge.

"G-od,fu-ck," He groaned, hitting just the right spot to fuck out both of your orgasms.

You felt him swell inside of you, his grip on your hand crushed yours back to the point that you couldn't claw him, his hips stuttered to a slow stop, deep inside of you.

A sense of satisfaction beyond the physical softened your face, your resistance between his fingers, and all your aching muscles. You weren't quite sure what it was, but didn't feel rushed to figure it out.

He was trembling when he released the lower half of your face, a beautiful sweaty and out of breath mess on top of you.

Once again, you gasped at the opportunity to breathe better.

He tensed up immediately and you flinched at the twitch of his cock inside of you.

"Shit- was I choking you?" He managed to stay worried right after he came.

You grinned, carefree on the backend of your own, and shook your head, "Mm-mm."

The look of unmatched relief that washed over him was supremely attractive.

He pulled himself out, slowly, and made a face at how much he came before turning to discard the tied-up thing into the trash with a solid toss.

You welcomed his cuddly shuffle up to your side by burrowing into his slippery chest, and sighed at last, "Cute butt."

That, of all things, made him uncomfortable. He cringed when you spared a glance up to his face from his chin. You rolled your eyes at his overthinking.

"You must be an athlete, or something--," You rubbed your face harder into his chest and felt his laugh resonate throughout your body.

It all felt natural. The joking, the cuddling, the winding down. You both forgot that you weren't together, let alone that you had only known each other for less than a week.

It was already warm with him next to you, but you were happy to be under the soft throw he found and pulled over.

"I can't believe you came twice," His soft laugh invited an embarrassed, but sharp look from you.

He clarified, "It's really hot, don't get me wrong--,"

"I'm not usually so easy," You half-joked.

A big, handsome guy that knew how to use his dick, went down on you, listened to you, and didn't shy away from a vibrator? It'd be a challenge to find a girl who wouldn't cum that quick.

You blushed under the cover of darkness at his gentle, comforting hold on your breast and reassuring kiss to the side of your neck.

The ache in your belly was evident when you were flipped over to be little spoon. It burned pretty bad and you couldn't exactly hide it.

"Did I hurt you--?"

"No," You muttered, clearing your throat, "No, I wouldn't say that."

He placed a big hand on your tummy, feather-light, and you looked over your shoulder to meet his perceptive gaze.

You sure as hell couldn't lie to this guy. He saw right through you.

You pouted and gripped your pillow. Of course you couldn't handle his dick the way you wanted to, the way you bragged about or even genuinely thought you could.

"You were so good," You admitted, a little sad in tone.

A warm kiss to the back of your head. He took the weight of his arm off of your sore body, sighing into your hair.

"You were, too."

He decided to drop the subject, since you both had strong opinions that seemed to clash.

You smiled.

You talked about a range of topics for the rest of the night. General information, first, then personal interests that turned into a long conversation about volleyball, then family history, then academics, then personality, goals, and attraction.

Soon it was 4 in the morning. You were eating popsicles from your freezer and discussing the adventure he had to get up to your window.

You both watched, trying your best to stay quiet, a minutes-long video one of his friends sent in the Karasuno volleyball group chat of him falling out of the tree outside.

A hand flew up to your mouth to silence your intense giggle-fit. You had no idea how you were going to keep something like this a secret from Tetsurou.

Before too long, the pain in your tummy was just an ache and the stranger in your bed turned into a lover overnight.

taglist:

ty for all the replies and reblogs and likes!! it means so much. it's really nice seeing all the other asahi appreciators out here!!

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere

@kreishin

@ruu-https @kasai-https

@40unung @deluluforcarlos55 @lili-harg @beyond-your-stars @noyaskneepad

@rinheartshyunlix @vintagevict0ria @am-3-thyst

<3 u are literally asahi mvp @screamin-abt-haikyuu

masterlist.

requests open!

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ariestrxsh · 5 months ago

Text

dealer!chris x dealer!reader

💸 content warning: smut/suggestive, dry humping, mentions of hard drugs and guns, enemies to lovers, slow burn

💸 summary: you and chris celebrate with a joint on the beach after selling all your product

there will be several parts to this story, and they will contain sex, drugs, violence, use of weapons, and a lot of things that could be triggering if you've ever been apart of the drug world or loved someone with an addiction. i don't mean to glorify drug use, selling, or anything like that, but i wanted this story to be realistic, so it does appear like a somewhat "glamorous" lifestyle to chris and the reader in the first few parts. i want to make it very clear that when you get involved in the drug world in real life, you usually end up in one of two places: the ground or prison.

WHEN SPARKS FLY

chapters: | intro | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

You and Chris had successfully moved all your product in three days, a personal record for you with twelve kilos. The two of you stood in your living room, staring into the duffle bag full of cash sitting on your coffee table after the final sale.

"Holy shit, ma," Chris whispered, staring wide-eyed at the several stacks of hundreds before his gaze flicked up to you. "I know. It never gets old," you mumbled, picking up a stack of cash and holding it to your nose. You deeply inhaled, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. You were so infatuated with everything about money. It was almost like being reunited with an old lover every time you made it all back.

You couldn't deny that you wouldn't have been able to do it without Chris. He'd spent more hours with you, bagging up product and helping you move it than he'd spent sleeping the past three days. You admired his charming demeanor and his strong work ethic, you knew he could make you a lot of profit, and you wanted to keep him happy.

You started separating out the cash, putting your portion in one pile and Chris' in another. Once you'd finished divvying it up, you motioned towards the pile of money nearest Chris. "Here. Here's your cut."

"Ma.." Chris started to say. "What?" You asked without looking up at him. "You gave me half," Chris quietly answered, wondering if it was a mistake. "You do good work, Chris. I want to keep doing business with you. You deserve half," you told him, your gaze still fixed on the money in front or you.

"Oh, my god, ma!" Chris exclaimed, his face lighting up as he wrapped his arms around you. "I don't do shit like this often, so don't get used to it," you replied, not reciprocating his hug, but it was hard for you to conceal your grin with Chris beaming with excitement.

"Thank you, ma. I can't believe you already gave me a raise. We should go celebrate!" Chris declared. "And do what?" You inquired, giving him a perplexed look, worried that he was going to suggest a crowded place with loud music.

"I was thinking of something low-key. Let's go smoke a joint on the beach or something. I mean, you don't have to smoke, but the offer's open, and it is a special occasion," Chris rambled. You contemplated it for a moment. After all, why not celebrate? The two of you were making more money than you ever had in your life, and it was just the beginning. Plus, it was a chance to bond with your business partner.

"I'll get us home safe. Take the night off. Leave your gun at home," Chris said, looking into your eyes. "Chris, what if something bad happens? What if I need it?" You wondered with an urgency in your voice. "You've got me. If anyone messes with you, I'll protect you," Chris told you, taking a step closer to you and looking you in the eye.

The way he said it made you feel safe, like he really meant it. It was at that moment that you decided maybe you could trust him. Maybe you had to. Maybe you'd already let him in too much. After a few minutes of deliberation and a few more convincing words from Chris, you agreed. "Fine," you responded after taking a deep breath.

You weren't typically the spontaneous type, but there was something about Chris that brought out that side of you, and in some ways, you liked that. The two of you drove out to the beach, listening to Chris' favorite Arctic Monkeys album on the way there.

Tonight, you weren't a dealer. You weren't a hustler, and you weren't on guard. You were just a human being. Now, the two of you were side-by-side on the shore under a blanket of stars as the sound of the waves crashing echoed in your ears, enjoying the simple pleasures life had to offer.

You kicked off your shoes, feeling the sand beneath your feet. You hesitantly glanced down at the cherry and the smoke that slowly drifted into the air as Chris passed you the joint. "C'mon, ma. It'll be fun. Let loose for a bit," Chris urged you.

You didn't like to feel out of control. You knew getting high could be dangerous for you. You couldn't let your guard down. You couldn't let yourself slip up, admit your growing feelings for Chris, and possibly ruin your business relationship with him.

All the possibilities of all the bad things that could happen if you let yourself fully relax ran through your mind, and for a second, you thought, so what? "Fine," you sighed, taking it from him.

You held it up to your lips, the smoke stinging your lungs as you took a slow, long drag before exhaling with a cough. The dopamine flooded your system immediately, leaving you with a warm, fuzzy feeling. It was nice to have a night off from being a dealer and instead finding yourself on the other end as a consumer. It was nice to let go of the rigidity of your lifestyle and finally get to just be.

You took another puff, allowing yourself to sink into the sensation. You gave Chris back his weed. "How do you feel?" He wondered. "I feel high," you murmured, a smile spreading across your lips and your eyelids growing heavy. He grinned back at you, admiring how cute you looked in the moonlight, the light breeze gently catching your hair.

Chris pulled from the joint, inhaling smoke into his lungs. The two of you sat quietly for a few minutes, enjoying each other's company and listening to the soothing sound of the ocean's tide being pulled by the full moon that illuminated everything around you.

"Daisy broke up with me last night," Chris quietly chimed in, breaking the silence between you. "Oh, shit. Chris. I'm so sorry. What happened?" You replied in a soft, sympathetic voice. "What always happens, ma," Chris answered you, his gaze fixed on his ring that he was fiddling with.

"I didn't mean to make you tell her before you were ready," you leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on his back, feeling somewhat guilty for their relationship ending. "It's alright, ma. You were right. She was going to leave anyway. I should have told her sooner. It's for the best," Chris said in a solemn tone before taking another hit.

You didn't know what to say, and so you didn't say anything, fearing you'd make it worse if you opened your mouth in your current state of mind. You just sat next to him quietly, passing the joint back and forth, gently running your fingernails in a repetitive pattern up and down his back. He relaxed into your soothing touch.

"Ma, that feels so good," he said in a soft voice. A quiet whimper escaped his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut as you continued to caress him. You inched a bit closer to him and rested your head against his.

There was a small, sick part of him that was relieved. He could indulge in his late night fantasies about you and let his gaze linger on you without feeling guilty about it.

The two of you glanced up at each other simultaneously, and for a moment, the sexual tension between the two of you was undeniable. The look you each gave each other of burning desire didn't need words to be expressed and understood. A silent agreement was made.

Without thinking through what you were about to do, you just followed where temptation led you. You shifted, swinging your leg around Chris and straddling him. You stared deeply into his blue eyes, placing a hand on either side of his face as he sat quietly, gazing at you as his heart began to thrum in his chest. Your nose brushed against his as you leaned in, and the two of you each hesitated for a second, acknowledging that once you opened this door, it couldn't be closed.

You savored the moment before the kiss, the anticipation, and the way Chris' warm, shallow breath felt against your lips right before giving in. Not a single force on Earth could interfere with the magnetic pull, drawing the two of you together.

The kiss was tender at first, your soft lip grazing his, and it slowly grew deeper and more passionate as your tongue slipped into his mouth. Your trembling hands traveled to his chest as you stabilized yourself.

You could feel his hardening cock pressing against the front of your jeans, and you just couldn't help yourself. You found yourself rolling your hips forward and shifting your weight onto his lap, earning a sensual moan from Chris that vibrated against your lips.

You continued grinding against his bulge, and Chris' curious hands found their way to your waist, the half-smoked joint still wedged between two of his fingers. He guided your hips as you continued your movements, the added pressure feeling incredible every time his hard cock rubbed up against the seam of your jeans, stimulating your swollen clit.

You shuddered at the sensation, melting into the boy beneath you that you hadn't been able to keep your mind off of. You loved the feeling of kissing him, his pillow-soft lips, his velvet-like tongue, and the soft hums he elicited as you practically rode him with your clothes on.

"Can't resist me, can you, ma?" Chris rasped in a low voice as he pulled away from the kiss, reaching up to caress your cheek with his free hand. You firmly grabbed his wrist and started gently suckling on the tips of his fingers. "Oh, shit," he whispered, watching your mouth as you slid down to his knuckles, feeling the cool metal of his rings against your lips.

You could feel his cock jerk underneath you as you repeated this motion, alternating between a few of his long, slender digits, pressing your body weight against his dick. He loved every second of it. "Good girl," he quietly praised you as he imagined you sucking on something else. His words sent an electric surge straight to your clit, and you could feel the wetness between your legs that was likely seeping through your clothing by now.

Chris felt the heat from the joint as it widdled down towards the end of the paper, but he was too wrapped in you to care if it burned him. You brought your behavior to a stop, a wave of embarrassment overcoming you as you reflected on how impulsively you'd acted and how pathetic you probably looked humping Chris like a dog in heat after just a few puffs of weed.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed after pulling Chris' finger out from behind your lips and climbing off of his lap. "I don't know why I just did that," you muttered, completely humiiated as you retreated back to your spot in the sand. Chris stayed put for a moment, looking at you wide-eyed with his hard cock straining against his pants.

"Fuck, ma. I don't know why you stopped," Chris whispered, still processing what had just happened. "That was so inappropriate of me. I am so sorry," you mumbled with your face hiding in your hands.

"Why? Because I've been single for less than twenty-four hours or because you're kind of my boss?" Chris chuckled after taking a final hit of the joint and putting it out in the sand. You laughed with your embarrassed expression still buried in your palms.

"Either way, ma. I really liked it," Chris replied, nudging you in the arm as a smile spread across his lips. You picked your head up to finally look at him, face flushed and finding it rather hard to maintain eye contact. You wanted to kiss him again, but it felt like the moment had passed, and you were still embarrassed about how you'd thrown yourself at him.

Suddenly, you felt violently high, your heart beating in your ears and your head pounding. "I don't feel very good," you mumbled under your breath. "Here, give me your keys. Let's get you home," Chris said, springing into action once he recognized that you were most likely greening out.

He picked you up and carried you across the beach back to the car as you incoherently babbled about how sorry you were for crossing the line. He hushed you and assured you that you didn't have anything to apologize for.

He helped you into the car, and as soon as he got into the driver seat, you were softly snoring with your head resting against the window. Chris kept the music at a low volume and drove carefully as to not wake you. Once he pulled into your driveway, you began to stir. He reached over and caressed the back of your hand with his thumb.

"We're here, ma," he softly told you. "Here? Where?" You asked, still feeling heavily intoxicated. "Your house, ma," Chris giggled, shutting off the car and getting out so that he could help you into your place.

"Chris, that was so nice. You didn't have to take me home," you grumbled to him as he guided you through your front door. "You're right. I should have left you stoned on the beach by yourself," he laughed, knowing that of course he had to take you home, and just because he knew he had to, didn't mean that it was an inconvenience at all.

Chris carried you up your stairs and set you down softly on your bed. "Goodnight, ma. I hope you get some rest. I'm sorry for pressuring you into smoking," he said, shaking his head and feeling guilty for the state you were in.

"I chose to smoke, Chris. You couldn't pressure me into anything if you wanted to," you mumbled, slipping out of your jeans until you were in just a t-shirt and your underwear. Chris diverted his gaze as you started to undress, and he made his way towards your bedroom door to give you privacy.

"Where are you going?" You asked him as he started to close the door behind him. "I'll just walk to Dais -" he started to say, but then he remembered that walking to Daisy's wasn't an option anymore. "I'll just call an Uber, ma. Don't worry about me."

"Chris," you whined, reaching for him like a toddler asking to be picked up as you laid helplessly on your bed. "What is it, ma?" Chris asked, poking his head back into your bedroom. "What if you stayed the night here?" You wondered. "I mean, yeah, sure. If you're offering. I wouldn't mind crashing on your couch. It would save me a trip," he responded.

"No. I want you to sleep right here," you mumbled, patting the empty side of the bed beside you with a playful smile on your face. Chris raised an eyebrow, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. He could already tell what you were about to say next based on your body language.

"Please, Chris. I want you to fuck me," you begged him, biting your lip. "Ma, you're really messed up. I can't take advantage of that," Chris responded, taking a seat beside you on your bed and choosing his words carefully because he didn't want you to think he was uninterested. He just didn't want your first time to happen under these circumstances.

"Please. I need you," you replied, your voice saturated with lust as you started to take off your panties. "Woah! Hey," Chris exclaimed, stopping you from slipping them off. "Not like this, ma. If you still want to when you're sober, we can, but not when you can barely stand on your own. I'll lay in bed with you if all we're doing is sleeping."

"Okay. We can just sleep. I just want you here next to me," you whined, clutching your pillow in your arms and pulling it into your chest. "Alright, ma. But no funny business. Let's get you some pants," Chris replied, picking up a pair of sweatpants off of your floor and tossing them to you.

You slipped them on and curled up under your blanket. Chris crawled into bed beside you after shutting off your light. He pulled you close and kissed you on the forehead. "Night, ma," Chris whispered before closing his eyes. A few minutes later, he heard the sound of your soft snoring as you drifted off to sleep beside him.

When he was certain you were out, he slipped out of your sheets, snuck downstairs, and made his way out the door. As he waited out front for his uber, lighting up a joint, he smiled to himself, reflecting on the night and how boldly you'd climbed onto his lap and started making out with him.

He hoped that you were developing feelings for him the same way he was for you and that it wasn't just a purely lustful gesture earlier, but he couldn't be sure. Hell, he couldn't even be sure that you'd remember any of it in the morning, which was part of the reason he didn't want to be in your bed when you woke up.

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo x you #dealer chris #dealer!chris

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itsnotyouithink · 13 days ago

Text

AFRAID

SUMMARY: During practice, you find out Tara Carpenter is the girl from the new Stab 7 movie.. the real girl. The guilt hits hard — especially when the two of you end up locked in the gym that same night. She’s not just your tutor anymore; she’s a mystery you’re suddenly dying to understand.

PAIRING: tara carpenter x fem!reader

WARNINGS: ghostface mention, daddy issues.

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: are they getting too close too fast? it’s abt to heat up so idkk

part one | part two | part three | part four |

____________

Mindy had always been careful — just never neat. She could recite obscure film trivia without blinking, but somehow lost her pencils, notebooks, textbooks, novels, art supplies, even an entire school-issued camera kit in the weirdest, most impossible places. Anika once told her, "check yourself twice before leaving a room."

She never listened.

You were mid-drill, ball in hand, sweat still fresh on your skin, when she barreled onto the court waving her phone like it was on fire.

"Okay, just look into the camera and say: 'come to the Blackmore Cinema at 8 p.m. next Friday for the film festival,'" she rushed out, breathless.

You sighed, palmed the ball under your arm, and plastered on a practiced grin.

"Hi everyone," you chirped, way too rehearsed. "Come to the Blackmore Cinema at eight p.m. next Friday for an insane film festival. My team and I are pulling up, so you should too."

"Perfect!" she squealed, just as the unmistakable voice of your coach echoed across the court.

"I love you," Mindy added dramatically. "Come over for dinner tonight!"

You squinted at her.

"Dinner where? I've seen your dorm. It's like three feet wide and smells like broken dreams."

"What? No." She scoffed. "You think I'd voluntarily subject people to that trash bin? Hell no. It's at Tara's. We're doing like, a friend dinner or whatever."

You blinked at her like she'd just asked you to run suicides voluntarily.

"Hard pass. I'm not about to walk into my torturer's home."

"You are so dramatic," she groaned, already turning away. "Maybe join the theatre department instead of the basketball team."

You snorted and shoved her shoulder. Right on cue, Coach's voice sliced through the gym.

"Hey! Four! Baseline. Now!"

Your teammates groaned like you'd personally betrayed them. You grimaced. "Great. Thanks for getting me killed, Mindy."

She only grinned. "Always happy to help."

And with that, she trotted out of the gym — leaving her bag sitting dead center on the bleachers like a forgotten plotline. Practice was already bleeding into the evening, the gym clock ticking toward 5 p.m.

You jogged to the baseline, ignoring the muttered curses from your teammates. Eight laps. That was the punishment.

By lap four, your legs were already aching — and so was your ankle, screaming with each step like it had something to prove. You pushed it down. Again.

Sarah caught up to you by lap five, eyebrows raised and smug.

"So," she panted, "you still failing that easy-ass film class?"

You wiped the sweat from your brow with your jersey.

"First of all, it's not easy. Film is technical. And creative. Which are two things I severely lack. Second..." You winced. "Kinda. But I've got a tutor."

Sarah's laughter cracked across the track.

"You're doing so bad they had to assign you a tutor? Damn, I thought people were just joking when they said you couldn't analyze a movie to save your life. Why'd you even take the class?"

You don't answer right away.

The truth is heavier than your legs feel.

Your mom had pushed you into it — ever since you were a kid. Because your grandfather was some hotshot director back in the 60s or 70s, and your mom practically grew up on soundstages. She chased the acting dream once, but it didn't pan out. She settled for memories and nostalgia. And, apparently, forcing her daughter to take intro film classes at college.

"They said it would be easy," you muttered.

Sarah just laughed again, breezing past it. "Okay but who's the lucky tutor? Anyone I know?"

You hesitated. The pain in your ankle spiked — sharp and sudden — as your foot struck the floor wrong. But you didn't let it show. You couldn't. Your dad had made that very clear.

"Uh. Probably not. She's... kind of introverted?" you said. "I don't know. All I do know is that she hates me. Like, full-on loathes my existence."

Sarah raised a brow. "What's her name?"

"Tara Carpenter."

And just like that, Sarah's expression twisted — less surprise, more oh.

Her pace slowed for a step. You noticed.

"Okay... why'd you slow down?" you asked.

"Tara Carpenter is your tutor?" she asked, like she was double-checking the universe.

You blinked. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Oh," she said, breath catching, "you don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" You narrowed your eyes.

"Have you seen the newest Stab movie?"

You blinked again. "I don't watch movies."

Sarah gave you a look like you were an alien. "Well, they're based on Tara and her sister. She's from Woodsboro. You know... that Woodsboro. Her and her sister got attacked — brutally. One of her close friends went full Ghostface. It was all over the news."

You stopped mid-stride, almost slipping on the court. "What?"

"Yeah." She unscrewed her water bottle as the whistle blew for your final sprint. "It's insane. And, like, Tara's not introverted. Not even close. She just hates everyone. Drinks a lot. Parties a lot. And honestly? I get it. If the whole internet was calling my sister a psycho, I'd be drunk every weekend too."

She jogged ahead, leaving you behind — frozen. Breathless. Numb.

You'd only ever known her as your tutor and Mindy’s close friend from high school. The girl who rolled her eyes every time you got a director's name wrong. The one who always acted like being around you physically hurt her.

But now?

Now she had a backstory. A tragedy. Headlines attached to her name.

Wait, was Mindy a part of this too?

You'd never watched Stab. But you knew that mask. That voice.

What's your favorite scary movie?

You exhaled, long and shaky.

And for the first time since this whole tutoring thing started, you felt it — the guilt curling in your chest like smoke. Why would you ask her what her favorite movie was? Fuck. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot!

You had no idea.

⸻

The gym was nearly silent now, save for the faint hum of the overhead lights and the soft creak of the old bleachers cooling in the evening air. The echoes of practice—whistles, laughter, the bounce of basketballs—had long since faded into memory.

You sat on the bottom row of the bleachers, ankle stretched out, sock peeled halfway down, your shoe abandoned beside you like it had given up too. The swelling had gotten worse. Angry and pink and tight.

But you weren't looking at it.

You were looking at her.

Not in person. On your phone.

Frozen images of Tara Carpenter lit up your screen, too-bright photos taken without consent, grainy screenshots from security cams and news segments. A clip sat paused where her name was captioned in bold, capital letters beneath her pale, exhausted face.

"Woodsboro Survivor Speaks Out."

"Final Girl: The Carpenter Legacy."

"Stab 7: The Real Story of Tara and Sam Carpenter."

You didn't even realize how deep you were in it until the door creaked open.

Your head snapped up.

She was already inside.

Tara stood a few feet from the entrance, hoodie on, bag strap slung over her shoulder. She paused just long enough to register the scene: empty court, one player still here, and her best friend's gym bag forgotten near the top bleacher.

Her gaze fell to you.

Then to your phone.

Back to you.

She didn't blink.

Your stomach dropped.

"I—" you started, fumbling to lock the screen and shove the phone face-down. "Sorry. I didn't think anyone would—"

"Be here?" she finished, voice flat.

She walked slowly toward Mindy's bag, each footstep somehow too loud in the quiet. She picked it up like it weighed more than it should, then turned around and leaned back against the bleacher railing, arms folded.

"I guess I should be used to it by now," she said. "People looking."

You stood up too quickly—your ankle shouted in protest. You hissed, nearly stumbling before catching yourself. Tara didn't move to help. But her eyes flicked down to your foot and then right back up.

"I wasn't trying to—"

"Sure you were." Her voice wasn't angry. Just exhausted.

You stood still, phone still in your hand. "I didn't mean to make it a thing."

She shrugged. "Too late."

The lights above flickered once. Faint, but noticeable. You glanced at them, then back at her. "Mindy leave her entire life here again?"

"We were supposed to have dinner tonight but she had a dinner date with someone named 'free sushi.' So, basically ditched us for her girlfriend — again."

You smiled, tentative. "Oh, right. Dinner. At your house."

Tara didn't return it.

The silence between you thickened.

"I wasn't reading it to... judge you," you said, softer now. "I didn't know. Not really."

Tara's jaw tightened. "That's the problem, isn't it? Everyone thinks they didn't know. But the moment they do, it's all they can see."

She turned toward the exit. And that's when it happened.

A mechanical click. Subtle. Sharp. Final.

You both froze.

Tara's head turned slowly. Her eyes locked onto the gym door. She took a step forward and tried the handle.

It didn't move.

She pulled again. Harder.

Nothing.

You felt your stomach sink. She loudly gulped in front of you, "Wait—what time is it?"

You checked. "6:10."

Tara stepped back, laughing—but not like she was amused. "Of course. They installed the auto-locks last week."

"I also... forgot to sign out."

She looked at you, something sharp in her gaze. "You didn't sign out?"

Innocently, you raised your hands up like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar, "I didn't know I had to. I thought it was just a suggestion! That's a new thing, right?"

"It was in an email."

"I don't read those."

"Clearly."

She didn't say anything. Just stood there.

Still.

Too still.

You moved toward her. "Hey. It's okay. They'll do a sweep—Coach always checks before locking the building down for the night."

"Unless he left early."

You blinked. "He wouldn't."

She didn't answer.

Her breathing was shallow now, eyes fixed on the door like it was a trap. Like something on the other side was about to burst through it. You could see the tension running down her arms, her spine, her fingers flexing around the bag strap like she wanted something to hold onto.

You stepped closer, careful. "Tara."

She didn't look at you.

"I get it," you said. "I know this feels... familiar. And wrong. And like the lights are about to go out."

Still no answer.

"But they're not," you added. "You're here. You're safe. You're not seventeen in a hospital bed anymore."

That made her flinch.

You winced. "Shit. I shouldn't have—"

"No," she said suddenly, voice tight. "You're right. It's just a room. Just a gym. Just a locked door."

She exhaled slowly. Then again.

You shifted your weight and your ankle pulsed, making your whole leg throb. You grimaced, half-sitting on the bleacher beside you.

"Are you okay?" she asked, eyes flicking to your foot again.

"Yeah," you lied. "Just overdid it."

She raised an eyebrow.

You grinned. "Fine. I fucked it up three games ago and have been pretending it's fine ever since."

Tara shook her head. "Idiot."

"I prefer 'dedicated.'"

"Self-destructive."

"Passionate."

"Reckless."

You shrugged. "Semantics."

Finally, a smile. Barely there. But it counted. You shifted your weight, and your ankle screamed beneath you. You managed not to wince. Barely.

"I could use a distraction," she murmured, like it hurt to admit it.

You perked up. "I happen to be an expert at those."

Her brow lifted. "Do you usually flirt your way through disaster scenarios?"

You smirked. "Only with emotionally complex horror girls."

A long pause.

Then, finally: "Fine. Distract me."

You bent down—carefully—and picked up the ball. "Let me teach you to shoot."

Tara laughed, dry. "Absolutely not."

"Too late." You bounced the ball toward her. She caught it—awkwardly, palms stiff like she didn't trust it.

"You're lucky I don't throw this at your face."

"You'd miss," you teased.

She shot you a look. "I hate you."

But her lips twitched.

You limped a little closer and stood behind her, hands gentle as you guided hers on the ball. "Okay. Spread your fingers a bit. Relax your elbows. No death grip."

"Stop whispering like this is a Ghost pottery scene."

You grinned. "I'm a woman of many talents."

She turned her head slightly. You were close enough to see the fine strands of hair falling loose from her clip. Close enough to see her eyes change when she realized how close you were. Your voice dropped. "Try bouncing it. Not slapping—just push."

She did. The ball bounced crooked but came back.

You smiled. "Look at you. Natural."

She rolled her eyes. "Liar."

You stepped in front of her. "Shoot now."

"It's gonna be humiliating."

"I'm ready to be humbled."

She squared up. Breathed in. Took the shot. It bounced once on the rim—then dropped in. Her jaw dropped.

You gasped like she just hit a half-court buzzer-beater. "Holy shit, Carpenter. You're a prodigy."

"No way—did that actually—"

"You. Are. Athletic royalty."

Tara covered her mouth with her hand, laughing into it. It was soft and breathy and real. And for a second, she looked like someone who hadn't grown up dodging knives and headlines.

You stepped toward her, heart still racing. "You want to try again?"

She nodded, breathless. "One more."

You handed her the ball. "This is how it starts, you know."

"What?"

"Every sports romcom. The cool jock and the snarky outsider, locked somewhere after hours..."

Tara laughed. "Is this the part where we slow dance with a boombox?"

"I forgot the boombox," you said. "But I can hum The Notebook score if you want.”

She tilted her head, smiling at you now, but in that different kind of way—warmer, quieter. "You're not what I thought."

You looked at her. "What did you think?"

"That you were just another athlete who couldn't name a single female director."

You mock-gasped. "I'll have you know I cry during Greta Gerwig movies."

"I bet you do."

A beat passed.

Then she stepped closer. Ball in her hands. Looking up at you like maybe—just maybe—this was the first time she felt safe in a long time. Her voice dropped. "Thank you. For this."

You smiled, heart pounding, ankle forgotten. "Anytime."

And then—

BANG.

The gym doors burst open.

"TARA?!" Sam Carpenter's voice cracked like a whip.

Tara jumped back. You both turned as she stormed inside, her eyes wild, scanning for blood or bodies. Coach followed right behind her, winded and visibly pissed. "We've been calling you for twenty minutes—security had to override the damn system—"

"I'm fine," Tara said quickly, wiping her hands on her jeans. "I swear, we just got stuck."

Coach turned to you. "You didn't sign out?"

Your heart jumped into your throat. "I forgot. I thought practice ran longer."

His eyes narrowed. "You better not have been doing drills alone."

"No, sir." You shook your head with a tense close-lipped smile.

Tara didn't look at you.

But she stepped a little in front of you. Subtle. Quiet.

Coach scanned the room. "I want both of you out of here. Now."

Sam still hadn't stopped hovering. "Why weren't you answering?"

"I left my phone in Mindy's room," Tara muttered. "We're fine, Sam. Calm down before you catch a stroke or something.”

Coach sighed, rubbing his face while turning towards you. "You're lucky I was still here."

Tara glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes found yours again. And this time, they were soft. Still a little scared. But soft.

She mouthed it more than she said it: "Thank you."

And then she left. But not before her sister thoroughly — and scarily — glared at you. All you could do in return, was gulp.

——————

You're flat on your back, one arm draped over your forehead, ankle still elevated on a bunch of useless Calculus textbooks and throbbing in sync with your heartbeat. The room's dim, lit only by your phone screen and a distant streetlamp flickering through the blinds.

You're not texting her.

You refuse to text her first.

Probably.

Wait, does she even have your number?

But then—

[9:41 PM – Unknown Number]

still thinking about the shot i made

tell the WNBA to start scouting me immediately

You sit up so fast your pillow slides to the floor. Your heart? Immediate cardiac tap dance.

[9:42 PM — You]

who is this?

is this the girl who missed the rim like 8 times in a row before finally scoring?

[9:42 PM — Tara Carpenter]

it was 7

i won't be slandered by someone with a busted ankle and an inflated ego

[9:42 PM — You]

i think you secretly loved it

you looked so proud

i haven't seen a smile like that since we team beat NYU

The bubble pops up immediately. Typing. Pausing. Typing again.

[9:43 PM — Tara]

yeah, well

it felt weird

good weird

like... maybe i'm allowed to be proud of something again

You don't breathe for a second. You read it twice, then three more times for no reason other than you need to be sure she meant that.

You settle back, fingers tight around your phone. She's not just flirting. She's letting you in.

[9:44 PM — You]

you are.

you should feel proud more often

i think it looks good on you

There's a pause after that. Your stomach coils, the silence somehow louder than the pain in your ankle.

[9:45 PM — Tara]

you're too nice

it's unsettling

aren't jocks supposed to be emotionally unavailable?

[9:45 PM — You]

oh i am

but you bring out my soft side

congratulations. you've unlocked a new level

You stare at the screen, waiting. Waiting for her to pull back. Make a joke. Pretend it didn't land.

She doesn't.

[9:46 PM — Tara]

careful

keep that up and i might start thinking you're into me or something

Your pulse stutters.

You grin, sharp and stunned.

[9:46 PM — You]

depends

would that be a bad thing?

No answer.

Just the typing bubble. And your heart, doing acrobatics.

Then finally:

[9:48 PM — Tara]

wow

someone's feeling bold tonight

okay, varsity

try not to let the attention go to your head

You drop your phone. Literally drop it onto your chest like you've been hit.

Varsity.

You blink. You swallow. You scream inside. You reread it like it's poetry, like it's prophecy, like it's not the thing that's going to live rent-free in your head for the next decade. A nickname feels different coming from her.

[9:51 PM — You]

"varsity" is wild

not denying it tho

kinda sounds hot when you say it

[9:51 PM — Tara]

i'm immediately regretting it

consider it revoked

[9:51 PM — You]

too late

putting it on my jersey next season

[9:52 PM — Tara]

please don't

i'll transfer schools

[9:52 PM — You]

that sounds like a long-winded way of saying you'd miss me

[9:52 PM — Tara]

shut up

how's your ankle?

You glance down at it. Purple. Angry. Still pretending you're fine. You've been ignoring your dad's insistent calls to you for the night, you're trying to choose peace tonight.

[9:53 PM — You]

loud

dramatic

demanding attention

basically me in bone form

[9:53 PM — Tara]

perfect

you can bond

i'll bring ice and coffee tomorrow

unless that's weird now

Your heart softens. You sit there for a second, staring at the message like it might vanish.

[9:53 PM — You]

not weird

kinda the best thing i've heard all night

[9:54 PM — Tara]

good

see you tomorrow, varsity

You bite your lip so hard it leaves a mark.

[9:54 PM — You]

sweet dreams, final girl

[9:54 PM — Tara]

oh, and next time don’t skip dinner at my apartment

Oh, fuck.

#aesthetic #fiction #fanfic #jenna ortega #wlw #jenna ortega x reader #netflix wednesday #netflix #scream #scream 5 #scream 6 #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #basketball

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bloodlineslut · 5 months ago

Text

The Law of Obsession (Ch. 1) | Roman Reigns

Plot: Roman Reigns seems to be everything Laila never knew she needed. He's handsome, charming, confident, and very protective. As a criminal defense attorney, Roman is used to bending the laws to his will, to his control. When he meets Laila, a 21 year old student who just transferred from her hometown college, he sees a young woman who needs his protection. He sees someone who only needs him.

Laila believes she's found the perfect man. But perfection always comes at a price.

Pairings: Roman Reigns x black! OC

Warnings: OC is a virgin! (for now…), slow burn romance, they’re just talking to each other in this chapter

Summary: For the past week, a mysterious man has been watching Laila at the cozy little café she goes to after class, where he finally decides to “introduce” himself.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: CHAPTER 1 AHHHH! This was more of an intro chapter so it's a little shorter. I’m gonna do a slow burn to build up the suspense, romance, and everything in between. It will have everybody from the original bloodline, so Roman, Paul, Jimmy, Jey, Solo, and even Sami!! Yall please comment if you like it so far! And if you want to be tagged let me know

Laila usually kept to herself. It’s not that it was on purpose, though. After moving halfway across the country to Florida to finish college, she was still adjusting to the new environment.

After graduating high school, her parents encouraged her to enroll at the community college, just for maybe 2 years or so. She did everything to make her mom and dad happy, but she couldn't help but think she was missing out on the full college experience.

She talked to her parents about possibly transferring, although she never said where. They reluctantly agreed, and 2 weeks later, she found out that she got accepted into the University of Miami just in time for the fall semester.

It took a lot of convincing her parents, especially her mom, to let her go. But once Laila mentioned that she received a scholarship, that convincing became a whole lot easier.

All her mom and dad wanted her to do was to continue to make good grades and get her Bachelor of Science degree in Accounting. Also, with her being the only child, she had to do well.

She was a tad bit sheltered in the romance department, too.

She had her first kiss at 17 on the night of homecoming with this boy, Trey, who she had a big crush on since freshman year.

That was like the highlight of her life, to be honest.

But ever since then, it’s just been school, school, and more school.

She just wishes she knew at least one person here in her new home for the next 2 years.

“Order for Laila!” She was snapped out of her thoughts, forgetting that she was supposed to be listening for her coffee that she ordered a couple minutes ago.

Quickly standing up from the little corner table she found, she walks up to the counter where the barista is holding the drink out for her.

“Thank you so much!” She takes the drink—an iced cappuccino with hazelnut shots and sweet cream cold foam on top—and walks back to her table.

Setting the coffee next to her laptop, she opens it, going to her calendar to see if there were any assignments due tonight.

“Oh, thank goodness.” She quietly breathed out as the front door bell rang, signaling a new customer had just entered.

Naturally, she glanced up at the person and unintentionally did a double take.

Oh, this man was handsome.

Not wanting him to catch her looking at him, she quickly averted her eyes back to her laptop. His back was now to her, waiting in line at the counter to put in his order.

She trailed her eyes from her laptop screen to his back, taking in his very tall stature. He also had on a black suit that he definitely got tailored, because it fit every inch of him perfectly.

The guys back home surely don’t look like that.

Trailing her eyes up his back, to his head, she sees that he has a nice man bun.

And then she hears his voice.

“Yea. I want a large black coffee with cream and sugar on the side. Thank you.”

Laila notices how he says, “I want…”. Her mom always told her that the way a person orders food or a drink tells a lot about their personality.

She was always the type of person to say, “Could I please get…”

Clearly, this guy knew what he wanted.

She didn’t realize she was still staring at the back of him, until he turned around and softly smirked at her. Her eyes widened in embarrassment, and she looked down at her phone in shame.

Needing a distraction, she just decided to mindlessly read over her class’s syllabus. Her brain only registered something about a research paper due at the end of the semester, when she suddenly felt a large presence standing in front of her table.

She damn near looked like a deer in headlights.

“So, UMiami huh?” The deep, velvet-smooth voice spoke out.

Laila slowly turned her head upwards to meet the face of this sexy, mysterious man, and she had to catch her jaw from going slack at his beauty.

“…How do you know that?” She asks, confused.

The man just chuckles and points to the back of her laptop. “The sticker that says ‘UMiami.’”

Laila reaches to close her laptop just enough to see the sticker that he’s talking about. “Oh, right! I forgot I put that sticker there.” She laughs, showcasing a beautiful smile and two deep dimples that lit up her whole face.

Her smile made Roman smile, his dimples catching her eye, a sharp but adorable contrast to his manly features.

With his large coffee in one hand, he uses his other to point to the chair in front of her. “You mind if I sit?” It was a bit more of a statement than a question.

Laila, not knowing how to say no to people, nods before she can catch herself.

Every move this man makes is with purpose, never rushing or hesitating. Every move is with intention. He sets his coffee down, his fingers briefly brushing against the rim of the cup before he smoothly pulls out the chair.

A quiet confidence that’s controlled and deliberate.

She watches as he sits across from her, his broad shoulders relaxed but his presence heavy. There’s something about the way he looks at her—like he already knows something she doesn’t.

Laila clears her throat, in an attempt to calm her nerves. It’s not that he was creepy or anything. His stare was just so intense that it made her suddenly so hyper-aware of herself.

He finally speaks up. “I’m Roman.” He says, slowly outstretching his hand over her now-closed laptop.

Laila hesitates for just a second, but ultimately moves her hand toward his. He gives her a flirty gentleman’s handshake, her delicate fingers between his thumb and fingers. He smirks at her, giving her soft hand the slightest, respectful squeeze.

Roman holds her gaze, steady and calm, his eyes holding an underlying intensity that Laila is oblivious to.

“My name is Laila.” She shakes her head and speaks up, forgetting that he just introduced himself to her.

“It’s very nice to meet you. Laila.” He tests out her name on his tongue and it seemed to just roll right off of his tongue.

She was the first to gently pull away from his hand, smiling nervously and fiddling with her hair.

Roman brings his coffee to his lips, taking a sip of it now that it had a chance to cool off a bit.

“You come here often?” That voice was so attractive to Laila.

“Huh? Oh, yeah! I like to do my homework here instead of the library a lot of the time.” Now it was her turn to take a sip of her iced coffee.

"What are you studying?"

"Accounting, I'm in my junior year." She says nodding, proud of how far she's come.

"Good with numbers huh?" He teases and smirks at her, knowing she's probably heard it a hundred times.

She playfully rolls her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ear. "Ugh, if I had a dime for every time somebody said that. But, I just like this coffee place because it's so cute."

Roman nods in understanding. “I get it. I like to come here after work every day before I drive home.”

This piqued her interest. “Oh, what do you do?” Curiosity filled her voice.

His fingers grazed the top of his cup before meeting her big brown eyes again. “I’m a criminal defense lawyer.” He says with confidence. He took his job very seriously, as it entailed some things that had to be kept under wraps.

Laila’s eyes lit up at this new information. “Oh wow! Wait, so you get the bad guys off?” She giggles.

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face at her question. “Yea somethin’ like that.”

Laila smiled at looked down at her lap, still so nervous and in shock that a man that looks like this is even sitting down, talking to her.

“Well, if I ever get in any trouble, I’ll know who to call!” She adds to the fire.

“Nah. You’re not the type to get into trouble. Just stay with the right crowd, you’ll be okay.” Laila couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“I don’t even have a crowd to stay with…I don’t know anyone here.” She shyly admits, shrugging her shoulders.

“You know me.” His tongue peeks out of his mouth to lick his lips while he brings a large hand to his tie, tugging it down a little.

Laila’s heart had to be going a million miles a minute, at this point.

It was like everything he did was sexy. He just oozed sex.

‘Girl you’re a virgin, you don’t know what sex even feels like.’ That voice inside her head yells at her.

She was trying to think of what to say next, but he spoke up before she could.

Roman reached two of his thick fingers into the pocket inside his black suit jacket, pulling out a stiff little white card with writing on it.

“If you ever ‘get into some trouble’ ,” he said, his voice low, “give me a call.”

Laila gently took it from his fingers and read the words on it.

Reigns, Heyman, & Associates

“Justice served. By any means necessary.”

Seeing the law firm’s motto made her blink back her surprise. “Oh, wow…you uh, really get down to business,” she glances up at him, to find him already looking at her.

“We do. Let me know if I can do anything for you. Get you out of a parking ticket, beat up somebody for you, talk to a professor…”

This made Laila laugh, but little did she know, Roman really was NOT joking.

He chuckled and admired how beautiful she was when she laughed. Those beautiful dimples would make him so weak.

A text message from his phone broke him out of his admiration as he looked down at it. It was Heyman.

Paul Heyman: Chief, we have a new client. This one got busted for drugs, but he was one of the contributors in our plan to take over Rollins’ firm.

Roman: Say no more. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

After texting Heyman back, he put his phone in his pants pocket. “Laila, I actually gotta get goin’, sweetheart.” He says, standing up and grabbing his half-drunken coffee that was now cold.

He reached his hand out for what Laila thought would be a good-bye handshake, but he brought her hand up to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

“Be safe okay?” His hypnotizing voice coaxed an immediate response out of her.

“Okay.”

They parted ways, with Roman leaving to handle business, and Laila being left with her thoughts and her heart that didn’t seem to stop racing ever since she met this man.

#roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #the bloodline #the tribal chief #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x original character #roman reigns x black original character #paul heyman #solo sikoa #jey uso #jimmy uso #wwe fic #the law of obsession

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sturnsdarling · 9 months ago

Text

teenage dirtbags, part two

Skater!Matt goes to overachiever!readers dorm so she can help him with his essay

vibe check: bickering, matt fancying the fuck out of reader but being unaware, reader being a snob, kind of flirting? idk if you can call it that lol.

1.7k words

A/N: this is so FUN. in my head, Matt has always secretly thought reader was gorgeous, but any and all good natured feelings were swallowed by an avalanche of irritation and borderline hatred

intro, part one, part three

love and cigs, merc

You were sat on the floor of your dorm, clad in a big knit jumper, little shorts and fluffy socks, cross legged on the carpet with a pencil dangling from your mouth as you scanned the margins of some 19th century text about the French Revolution.

You were pulled from your focus by the sound of your door rattling, three short knocks sounding through your room over the low hum of your record playing in the back.

You looked to your watch, 7:03, Matt was actually on time.

You pushed yourself up off the floor and made your way over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open with a less than welcoming look on your face. You were met with Matt, board in hand and headphones hung round his neck, a flat grin on his face that quickly dropped.

Matt couldn't help but scan your figure, he'd never seen you in anything other than your clean cut outfits, so seeing you in a baggy jumper that hung off your bare shoulder and shorts that just covered your ass was, interesting.

"come in" you said, pulling Matt from his accidental objectifying gaze and stepping to the side to let him in.

"thanks" Matt said as he walked past you, taking in the sight of your room, it actually did smell like vanilla and academic over achievement.

You had more books than he had ever seen in his entire life, the walls covered by rows of bookshelves all packed to the brim with classic literature.

"this is a lot of books" Matt said, gawking at your collection.

You nodded, lips tucked between your teeth as you raised your brows slightly.

"have you read all of these?" Matt asked, pointing at the shelves.

you scoffed with a smile, "no" you shook your head, "just over half, probably"

"that's still impressive" Matt shrugged, dropping his stuff on the floor.

"should we get started?" You said, wanting to cut the small talk and get this over with.

"yeah, sure" Matt said, following your movement and sitting on the floor opposite you, pulling a bunch of crumpled up notes from his bag.

You looked at them in disgust as he tried to flatten them out on the floor, shaking your head as you got up, scanning over your shelves to find anything you had on existentialism. You pulled a few books out and returned to the floor, opening them and scanning over the pages. Your movement grabbed Matts attention, him watching you intently as you began to rip through all the possible approaches he could take, listing off essay summaries as if you knew them like the back of your hand.

Matt wasn't listening, mostly because he had no idea what you were talking about, but also because your hair was falling in your face slightly as you leaned down to scan the books, the strands framing your face perfectly as you spoke with your plump, glossy lips. Matt noticed the small constellation of freckles on your nose, how your eyes darted around the room as you spoke, as if you were literally searching your brain for information, how your brows knit together every time you said 'obviously' and how...what the fuck is going on

"are you even listening?" you snapped, pulling matt from his haze.

"huh?" he said, meeting your glaring eyes, "yeah, yeah, I'm listening" Matt said, shaking the thoughts from his brain.

"because I don't have to do this for you, you know that right? I have much better things to be doing with my time and you're honestly the last person I want to spent my evenings helping" you began to complain, your tone cocky and fed up

"charming" Matt scoffed, "trust me, y/l/n, you're not exactly someone I want to be spending my evenings with either" Matt quipped back, matching your cadence.

"right, well, maybe if you listen to me, this can go a lot faster, and we can go back to pretending we don't know each other" you said with finality.

"fine" Matt shrugged, holding your eye contact

"fine" you repeated, having to get the final word

Matt chuckled, shaking his head with a slight eye roll. You squinted at him, scrunching your face up as his attitude.

"what?" you spat.

Matt couldn't help but grin, "you haven't changed at all" He met your gaze once more.

"what are you talking about?" you said, your voice thick with attitude.

"you always have to have the last word" Matt shifted where he sat, bringing his knee up as a rest for his arm.

"no, I don't" you replied with a scoff.

"yeah, you do" Matt grinned, nodding.

"no, I don't" you pushed.

Matt didn't respond, only raised his eyebrows and tightened his smile, looking at you in an accusatory manner, as if you responding the way you did only proved his point.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and returning your attentions to the book in your lap, "lets just get this over and done with"

The rest of the night went...fine. There was some bickering, mostly started by Matt not listening or simply being himself. You ended up getting his introduction done before you decided it was time to take a break, needing to decompress from all the arguing.

You and Matt sat in silence, you fidgeting with your pen as you scanned over what Matt had written and Matt wandering around your room like a lost puppy, in his search through all your things, his attention was caught by the crates of records that looked as if they were holding up your mattress.

There were hundreds of them, all in alphabetical order, stacked on top of each other in the makeshift bed frame you had made with the crates. Matt scanned the names, in awe of the fact that not only did you collect music, but it was good music. Maybe you did have something in common.

"are these all yours?" Matt said, unable to take his eyes off your collection.

You looked up from the page, looking over to Matt who was crouched on the floor, peppering soft touches with his long, slender fingers over the spines of the records.

"who else's would they be?" you said, raising a brow at him as he looked over his shoulder at you.

"this is an impressive collection, y/l/n" Matt said, ignoring your attitude.

"thanks" you cocked your eyes to the side, generally irritated by him regardless of what he said.

"I didn't know you fucked with music like this" Matt returned his attention to the stacks, "maybe you're not as lame as I thought you were" he looked back to you with a boyish grin

You screwed your face up at him, giving him the biggest condescending smile you could muster up. Matt cheesed at your face, looking back to the music and scanning some titles.

"oh shit, Fleetwood Mac, I fuckin' love them" Matt said, pulling out the Rumours album and turning it over to read the track list, "still not as good as their self titled album from 75" Matt shook his head, putting the record back in its spot.

"are you serious?" you scoffed, "Rumours is easily their best album"

"absolutely not" Matt shook his head, sitting back down opposite you.

you simply stared at him for a moment, trying to process your bafflement, "In what universe is self titled better than Rumours?" you put the page in your hand down, leaning your palm on the floor so your body was towards Matt, your movement causing your jumper to fall down your shoulder slightly lower.

"In this universe?" Matt chuckled, "self titled has Rhiannon and Monday morning" He shifted, one leg tucked beneath him with the other acting as a perch for his arm, knee in the air with his foot on the carpet.

"and Rumours has the chain?" You pressed, "and dreams"

"okay, and?" Matt shrugged with a grin, drawing out his first word.

"you can't be serious?" you shook your head, "Rumours is incredible, you can literally feel the tension between the band with every sentence they sing, the energy is on a different level"

"so the album is good because everyone was beefing? how does that correlate to good music" Matt pushed, only slightly relishing in how worked up you we're getting.

"because?" you scoffed, "it's real, and raw, and the live shows were insane"

"you don't think self titled was real and raw?" Matt raised his brows at you.

"no, idiot, I didn't say that" you rolled your eyes, "rumours is just different, it was like all the anger from everything that happened was spilling out over the sheet music, it was...beautiful" your eyes wandered the ceiling as you explained your reasoning to Matt.

He couldn't help but smile as he looked at you, watching you speak so passionately about something other than how much you despised him was awe inducing, especially something like music, which he would have never have pegged you to care about this much.

You continued to argue your point, but the feeling of Matts eyes on you made your cheeks warm, and you stopped your rambling to look at him.

"what?" you deadpanned, cocking your eyes to the side quickly.

Your change in tone snapped Matt back into reality, and he was quickly reminded of who he was gawking at.

He cleared his throat, "nothing" he dropped his gaze from you, searching the floor for something to pay attention to other than the strange feeling in his stomach.

You furrowed your brows at him, watching the top of his head as he clearly tried to avoid eye contact with you at all costs. what the fuck was that about? you decided not to look into it too much.

"lets carry on, yeah?" Matt said, opening the book in his lap and clearing his throat once more.

"alright" you said, ignoring the tension in the air and returning your attention to the paper in your lap.

You spent the rest of the evening in silence, only talking if you really needed to and staying a good five feet apart at all times. Matt left once you had finished the outline for the body of his essay, still not looking at you for any longer than a second and hurrying out your room moments after you said that you could pick where you had left off tomorrow.

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dutchiepoo2 · 2 months ago

Text

How it Should've Been

Arthur x Fem!Reader

hi, this is me working through my issues! please read the content warnings, dearest -Jelly

cw: nsft intro, unhealthy attitudes surrounding sex, intimacy issues, references to past sexual trauma (no detail) and responses/emotional flashbacks relating to said non-detailed trauma, angsty with a not-happy ending

uses she/her pronouns & she has a pussaaaaayyyyyyyyy

i couldn't figure out how to end it so it's shit oops!! 2.5k words. mdni.

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Finally, they'd gotten a moment of peace. After weeks of high tensions within camp, and then Arthur being away, finally, they had time alone. Arthur had been wanting her for ages, and vice versa.

Now, they had a moment to get away. The chaos had calmed down a bit, and Pearson had been hounding Arthur to go out hunting. He figured he'd kill two birds with one stone and take his lover along with him.

Yes, it was a hunting trip, but they weren't doing much hunting. Arthur knew of an old, abandoned cabin that wasn't too decrepit. He knew it wasn't exactly romantic, and to some, might have been down right disgusting. Next time, he swore, he'd take her to a nice hotel and buy her a hot meal first. He'd slide his hands over her shoulders and kiss her reverently between declarations of her beauty, of his appreciation. He'd make sure she was relaxed and comfortable and take her how she should be taken.

But, that was for next time. Both of them were far too pent up for something as sweet as that. Arthur was frustrated with how busy he'd been lately, and he just desperately wanted a release. She was just plain frustrated she couldn't have him. There had been too many mornings spent quietly grinding against each other, too many sneaky wandering hands at the camp fire. They were craving each other, plain and simple.

And so, within ten minutes of Arthur laying his tent canvas over the old, dusty bed, he was inside her. This was unusual in the sense that Arthur typically took his sweet time. He was big, and he knew it, so he almost always spent ages stretching his lover open, getting her worked up enough until she's dripping, pulsing—past the point of ample preparation.

But that's not what happened today. Today, she was already wet and eager, kissing him hard and gripping at his suspenders. He was a starved man, so he laid into her with the same passion and then some.

First, he had her bent over that creaky old cot, his hands running along her waist and petting at the soft skin of her back. There was an undeniable power behind each thrust that had her singing praise and gripping hard onto the canvas blanket. He fucked into her like that for a while, just to get some of their energy out, until he decided he needed to see her face and maneuvered her onto her back.

Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he crawled over her, grunting and growling against the crook of her neck. The humidity of the summer air did little to ruin the moment, instead encouraging a shine to form over his body, little droplets of it rolling down Arthur's nose. She licked at his neck between staccatto'd pants, addicted to the taste of salt on his skin.

Then, her head was thrown back, spine arching to meet each thrust as best as she could with his weight on her. She was so full, more than normal it seemed, so needy for more. It was like he was scratching an itch she couldn't reach, no matter how many times she'd shoved herself full of her fingers on the nights he was away. Nothing could compare to this, she thought, as he ground down against her clit.

The prettiest noise Arthur ever heard escaped her throat, and he knew he needed more. Suddenly his weight was gone, and he was standing above her, collecting her legs and folding them against her chest.

"Want me like this?" He rasped, gaze intense and pupils blown.

As their eyes met, she felt his cock twitch inside her, relaying just how desperate he was behind his tough guy facade. Her cunt fluttered around him before she could answer verbally, but she gave an eager nod either way.

His next thrust punched the air from her lungs, her mouth falling open and hands flying to his wrists. A high, flighty gasp escaped her throat, trailing off into a shuddering hum of approval.

Again, and again, and again, he thrusted hard into her like that, slowly descending his weight down onto her. Again... and again... and—

A sharp pain radiated across her abdomen, her eyes flying open and her nails gripping tight against his skin. She yelped and reflexively tried to jump back, but Arthur held her in place as he extracted himself from her.

"Sorry—" he puffed, cradling her face immediately as he leaned over her. "You okay, girl? Too much?"

The pain wore off almost immediately, the only proof of its existence the small tremble in her thighs. She forced herself to relax, embarrassment bubbling up her chest.

"'M okay," she mumbled, leaning into his hand. "Keep going?"

Arthur breathed out in relief, leaning down to this time to press his lips to her crown. His grip on the back of her thighs loosened, letting her maneuver them as needed. He slid back into her, carefully, gently.

This time, he moved at a much slower, shallower pace, watching her face intently. His concern won over his lust for the moment. He just wanted his lover to feel comfortable, pleasured. His pace only picked back up when he felt the tension begin to melt from her thighs, and he could tell from her noises and expression that she was obviously feeling good again.

It didn't last long, though, before he pushed too hard or too deep or something, somewhere, and she jumped again. She'd been more prepared this time, so her pained reaction was much smaller, more subtle. Either way, Arthur noticed, of course he did, and paused.

"Okay?" He asked, disquiet evident on his face.

She nodded quickly, her cheeks flushing red.

"Yeah, sorry. Just... maybe this position...? I don't know..."

A deep sigh puffed across her bare chest, and she swallowed thickly, worried that she'd annoyed him. He released her legs and let them wrap back around his hips.

"Here," he mumbled, patting her calf. "You seemed to like this one earlier, yeah?"

Would he stop if she asked...?

She agreed, holding her breath. Silence. Why was she nervous? He'd obviously not meant to hurt her.

"Y'gonna tell me if you're hurting?" He scolded softly. His big fingers carded through her sweaty hair.

Right. Of course he would.

Again, she nodded, feeling awkward and embarrassed and annoyed that she was even hurting in the first place. They'd been having a good time. Her teeth grabbed at her lip, and she stared up at the cobwebs on the ceiling. Suddenly all she could smell was the musty, moldy smell of the old cabin, and any remaining arousal she was feeling drained from her body.

Arthur called her name gently, bringing her attention back to him.

"What'chu want, sweetheart," he asked gently, petting her ribcage with his thumb. "Anything you want."

What she wanted was to get out of this cabin. But she didn't want Arthur to be disappointed in her, or mad, or frustrated that he couldn't finish during the first time they'd had sex in weeks.

A few more minutes wouldn't kill her. She could do it, for Arthur.

Her hips rolled against his, hands pulling his shoulders down so she could hide her face in his neck. She knew how to fake it well enough.

"More," she breathed against his heated skin, "Take me."

Would he stop if she asked...?

Why couldn't she ask?

Arthur huffed, but began moving again, still heartbreaking-ly gentle. A soft noise escaped her lips, and she continued rocking her hips against his, encouraging him to speed up, to use her.

It did still feel good, physically, with his pubic bone grinding against her clit and her body stretched taut around his girth, but all she could focus on was how much she wanted to go home to her own tent, how hot it was in here, how bad it smelled, the sound of the single fly buzzing at the window.

She loved Arthur, so why was this suddenly so difficult? Why couldn't she do this for him?

He picked up the force of his thrusts, still going slow but getting stronger, snappier. That's usually how she liked it, so why was she so tense? Either way, she moaned into his ear and gripped him tight with her legs, despite her belly beginning to ache again.

Then he changed his angle minutely, and there was that sudden, radiating pain again. Her breath caught, but he seemed to think that was a good reaction, an honest mistake, because he did it again, and again, and again, and harder, and harder, and he started groaning again like he was close.

She could bear it until he finished. It wasn't that bad.

A few more seconds. Just a few more. Just—

Would he stop if she asked?

All her muscles went rigid, and she burst into tears, hands flying up to her face. Dread flooded her system, crushing all the trust she had in herself in an instant.

"Shit!" Arthur barked, as he flew back, startled by her outburst. "Shit... What's wrong?! Look at me, girl. What hurts?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, shame stealing her voice and forcing her still. Despite the summer heat, her skin rippled with a chill, a cruel reminder of the fact that she was stark naked and crying, legs still lifted awkwardly in the air.

Silence. Long, humiliating silence as she slowly curled around herself like a dying insect, quickly retreating into her own mind.

Arthur's big, calloused hands attempted to smooth out her messied hair. He called her name again and settled on his knees next to her.

"What happened, sweetheart?" He asked in a voice softer than she'd ever heard before.

Her chest rose in a short, stuttering breath, escaping her throat as a weak apology. When her eyes finally cracked open again, she immediately recognized Arthur as her love, and reached her arms out to him with wide, begging eyes, a pitiful, wet gasp. He didn't hesitate, and cradled her tight against his chest.

Worried and put off by her apologies, Arthur chose not to speak. He didn't think she seemed able to give him any answers right now, so he just held her.

And boy, did he feel like a right bastard. Nausea burned at the pit of his stomach as he considered what just happened. Did he hurt her? Scare her? She'd seemed into it. His eyes wandered down to where they'd been connected, searching her thighs and his now limp dick for any traces of blood or answers. Nothing.

He didn't spend much time getting her warmed up, he realized. Did he push her too fast? He'd have gone down on her if he'd known, would've had her come on his fingers until he knew she was ready. She had just seemed so eager.

He could feel her trying to calm herself down. Shaky sounding, hot puffs of air brushed against his stomach, her face buried in his chest, fingers clutching at his skin. Strong arms wrapped around her, a broad palm smoothed up her spine. He forced himself to be steady, despite the dread building in his gut.

In the tiniest voice he ever heard, she apologized again, directly over his heart. It clicked then, and Arthur's chest collapsed as the pieces fell together.

Oh.

Pieces of conversations past echoed in his skull, about no-name men and their sins. Memories of how she'd shy away in the beginning of their relationship when he came on too strong, even though he'd always been a gentle, gentle lover. Strange bouts of insomnia and poor sleep that always seemed to align with nights they'd indulged in each other more passionately than was typical.

Shit.

His nose pressed into his lover's hairline, his blood turning to ice. Amidst his onset of guilt, cradled in Arthurs arms, she was beginning to come back to the world. His familiar embrace, smell, brought a comfort she could never describe.

The anxiety fizzled out into emptiness as the minutes ticked by, and eventually, she was still. Awake, but still, half missing from her body. Arthur, meanwhile, was buzzing with energy.

He pulled back, searching her face, zeroing in on the tear tracks drying against her cheeks. He felt sick at the way she peered up at him, eyes wide and owlish.

To her fuzzy brain, it felt like a year that they stared at each other, resting together in that old, gross cabin. He broke the silence.

"What happened, sweet girl," he whispered, voice thick. "I hurt ya?"

It took a lot of time for her to process the question. She supposed it was true, but it didn't feel true. She made him hurt her. She let him believe she was having fun. God, why did she do that? She wanted him to enjoy himself.

Her expression began to crumble as she shook her head, no, emphatically. It wasn't his fault. She didn't want him thinking that.

Arthur sighed deeply, not convinced in the slightest, but willing to put it aside for the moment. His thumb brushed against her cheek, eyes soft.

"You forget it was me?"

That didn't feel true, either. She knew it was Arthur, and she realized with a sinking feeling that he knew. What would he think, if he thought she saw him as some sort of... that kind of man? She knew he frequently felt like a monster already. She'd put so much effort into building him up. What would it do to him if he thought she was afraid of him?

No.

She forced it down. She'd protect him from this ugliness that made her question him. What was she thinking? Of course he would stop if she asked. He always did. Usually, he'd stop before she'd even get to asking.

"No," she croaked. "Just... I don't know what happened, Arthur. I'm sorry."

He wouldn't let it go, though.

"You gotta tell me if it hurts, little girl," he chided gently. "I don't wanna hurt'cha. Don't matter to me if we gotta call it. You know th—"

"Can you get my clothes?" She interjected, eyes glassy again. It was too much. "Please?"

Arthur's jaw went rigid in frustration. Guilt, shame, annoyance. With a kiss to her forehead, he separated himself from her body and sat up to search for her layers.

The moment had passed. She'd shut him down in fear of hurting him, and he was losing patience by trying to figure out what he did wrong.

Slowly, gently, he helped her dress back up. Arthur helped her return to modesty, and only then began dressing himself. She sat motionless on the edge of the cot, watching him with a little frown.

They watched each other, distantly, carefully. This was unusual, unsettling.

He didn't blame her. She didn't blame him.

He wondered if she trusted him. She wondered if he'd forgive her.

He beat himself up for not noticing. She beat herself up for not holding out.

Arthur hated that, maybe, he unintentionally reminded her of something so awful. She hated that her body couldn't react to anything else, especially with someone she trusted with her life.

Neither uttered a word.

When Arthur was clothed, she reached out to him again, seeking the solace she'd found earlier when he'd brought her back to her body. They wrapped around each other, murmuring apologies and declarations of love, each touch and each whisper poisoned by guilt.

Next time would be different, for sure.

#fuck idk #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #yeah i guess

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