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smileysuh · 8 months ago

Text

heart aches

🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper. “Never again,” he promises.

tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job hand fucking, spitting, finger sucking, inklings of oral fixation, praise, dirty talk, pining, reminiscing, breast worship, teasing, Jae being a simp, unprotected sex, handholding while fucking, Jae is pretty vanilla but pent up as hell, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k

🍭 aus. ex's to lovers, non idol au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I don't normally do angst, but Idk, this felt right for some reason this month

Prologue:

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, watching you fiddle around the bedroom while he cuddles with your cat on the bed.

Part of you wants to push back your feelings - you’d kind of been hoping to talk to him at the airport in the morning - but you should have known Jaehyun would realize something is up with you. It’s been a nice long weekend having him home with you.

It’s almost been like he never left.

Almost.

With a deep sigh, you go to sit on the foot of your mattress, staring down at your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say quietly.

The room feels achingly silent, and then the comforter ruffles as Jaehyun sits up. “This?” he asks.

“Us.” The word hurts to even say. “The distance… I mean, I knew continuing our relationship while you’re in a different city at a new university doing your graduate program would be rough… but… I just didn’t know I’d ever feel this lonely.”

Tears are welling in your eyes. You don’t want to break up with Jaehyun- he’s had your heart for four years. Starting over with someone new sounds impossible- but at the same time, being away from him hurts more than you could ever have imagined. It hurts when he calls you every night, being the perfect boyfriend, smiling and telling you about his day. It hurts because you thought you’d go through life together- you thought you’d be there to see it all yourself, not hear about it after the fact on the phone.

“Come here,” Jaehyun says softly, moving your cat off his lap so he can open his arms to you.

You allow Jaehyun to pull you into an embrace, his fingers stroking your hair. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, and you can hear it as you cuddle closer.

“I’m sorry that it came to this,” he breathes, “but I understand.”

You can’t help the tears now, and a choked sob escapes you. You grab at the front of his soft hoodie, wanting to crush the emblem of his new school. Part of you wishes he’d never been accepted into the elite business graduate program, but another part knows that Jaehyun deserves to be where he is now.

You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and that’s what makes this so painful.

Jaehyun needs to focus on his studies, to build a new life for himself across the country- and you need to do the same. You can’t be a ghost anymore, walking through life like a zombie and waiting to hear from him, constantly checking the time zone differences and calculating what he’s doing based on schedules.

“I can still…” you rub at your eyes, swallowing thickly, “I’ll take you to the airport in the morning-”

“It’s okay, baby,” Jaehyun shushes you gently, kissing the crown of your head. “I can get a cab.”

“Are you angry at me?” you ask, pulling away from his chest to look up at his face, worried about what you might find there.

“Of course not,” Jaehyun assures you, immediately stroking a thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears. “No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I knew things had changed when I moved away. I could see that the distance was a problem. You have needs, and I’m proud of you for voicing them, even if it hurts.”

“My heart is breaking,” you whimper.

Jaehyun frowns. “Mine too.”

“You’re really not mad at me?”

“I could never be mad at you,” Jaehyun promises. “I think it will be easier to talk about this with time, if that’s something you’d be interested in. But for now, how do you feel about just laying down, holding each other, and doing our best to enjoy tonight- if it’s going to be our last.”

It might be easier if he was mad at you, if he yelled and swore and tried to make you change your mind- but Jaehyun’s never been an abusive type. Instead, he holds you close, and as you softly cry on his chest, you begin to drift off to sleep.

One

Even in a crowded bar, one distant laugh makes your blood run cold. You grip your drink, heart thundering in your rib cage as you scan your surrounding area.

It’s been two years since you broke up with Jaehyun. Even so, you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“You good?” your best friend asks, reading your change in expression.

“Yeah, I just thought I heard-” as you’re about to say his name, you spot Jaehyun. He’s leaning against the bar top, chatting with a man whose back is to you.

God, he still looks so good.

Your chest aches, throat going dry. As you watch him, his eyes move to take in the bar. You’re quick to shift your gaze, lifting your drink to your lips to down the rest of it.

“I need to get out of here,” you mutter.

“What? Why?” Your friend reaches for your arm, pulling you closer to check in on you.

“My ex is here.”

“Which one?”

“Which one do you think?” You let out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah. Listen, have fun, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You hand her your empty glass, giving her one last look before you turn to head to the entrance of the bar.

You can feel eyes on you as you push through the crowd, but you chalk it up to being paranoid. You slip through the front doors, intent on hailing a taxi. As you make it to the cement sidewalk, you hear your name behind you, and that familiar voice has your blood running cold for a second time tonight.

“Y/N?”

Your whole body freezes, and for a moment, you truly consider running. But you’ve already run from Jaehyun once before, and you don’t have it in yourself to do it again.

With a deep breath, you turn to face your ex, your first love, the man you’ve never recovered from.

“I thought that was you,” Jaehyun mutters quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares at you.

You don’t even know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut, taking in his pretty face and the broad set of his shoulders.

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have followed you,” he admits finally. “It doesn’t look like you want to talk.”

Jaehyun turns to head back inside, and your body reacts on its own accord; you grab at his arm, and it makes him stop. He looks down at your hand, wrapped around his forearm, then up at you.

“We…” you swallow thickly, “we can talk. I just… I don’t know what to say.”

“That makes two of us.”

You drop your hand from his arm when you realize he’s not going anywhere.

“I uh…” Jaehyun clears his throat. “I got back to town a month ago. Meant to message you- but I didn’t know what to say then either.”

“You completed your program?”

“Yup. With flying colors.”

“I guess I always expected you to be a big shot and move to some other city- what are you doing back here?”

“Unfinished business… maybe.” Jaehyun dips his head, looking down at the ground. You watch him absentmindedly kick at an old cigarette butt.

He can’t be talking about you… can he?

“Anyways,” Jaehyun meets your eyes again, “how’ve you been?”

“I’ve been…” you search for the right word, “okay.”

“Yeah? Happy?”

“Sort of. You?”

Jaehyun shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile that makes your heart ache. “Sort of. It was two years of studying. Didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, as you know.”

So your breakup is still a sore spot for him, you can sense it in his words. He’s not outwardly saying it, but… it’s there all the same. There’s something of an apology in his statement, because you do know how hard it was for him to find time for things outside of school- it had been the main reason you’d had to call things off with him.

“How about you?” he presses. “Any uh… any protective boyfriend who’s about to show up and beat my ass?”

You can’t believe he’s asking you outright about this, and the question actually makes you let out a small laugh. You shake your head. “No. No boyfriend.”

“Good. I mean… I hoped you were happy, but uh, you know, it’s nice to hear that, well, you know what I mean.” Jaehyun looks down again, and you can see his ears turning red.

It’s as clear as day that Jaehyun still cares about you. The way he’s acting tells you everything you need to know… well, almost everything.

“So…” you wrap your arms around yourself, “are you planning on leaving again? Do you know how long you’ll be in town?”

“Nothing is set in stone,” Jaehyun admits, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you. “Listen, I’m just going to say it.” He takes a deep breath, meanwhile, you can’t even breathe. “I never got over you. I mean, how could I? You’re everything, and- I understand why we broke up, I really do. But my program is over now, and if you give me another chance, I promise not to go anywhere ever again, at least, not without you right there by my side.”

“Jaehyun-”

“If you need some time to think about it, I totally get that-”

Jaehyun goes to take a step back, and you find yourself grabbing at him once more. Your body simply can’t let him go- not now, not ever again.

Your ex looks down at your hand on his forearm, and as you open your mouth to give him your response, no words come to mind. Your gaze dips to his lips, and before you know what you’re even doing, you’re moving in to kiss him.

Jaehyun is frozen in place at the initial meeting of your lips, but after a moment, you feel his body relax. His hands gently slip to your waist, tugging you closer as he slants his mouth against your own. You feel him release a small groan, and a whimper bubbles in your chest.

How many times have you dreamt of this moment? How many times have you thought about kissing Jaehyun?

Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of him-

Someone lets out a whistle, and you roughly pull back from Jaehyun, your eyes finding the two bouncers outside the bar, who are staring at you with wolfish grins.

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Jaehyun asks, resting his forehead against your own.

“Come home with me.”

Two

It feels like deja vu to be walking into your apartment with Jaehyun. You’ve had the same unit for years- and you know it must feel even weirder for your ex to be here again after practically living here with you for half of your time in university together.

As you toss your keys onto the entryway table, you hear a familiar meow. Your cat slinks in from the kitchen, but instead of heading to you, she immediately moves toward Jaehyun’s feet, letting out an obnoxiously loud purr as she begins to rub against him.

“Looks like Mittens hasn’t forgotten me either,” Jaehyun smiles, immediately bending down to pick up the fluffy grey and white kitty. She leans into his touch, purring like an engine as he scratches he cheeks. Her paws begin to make softies on his arm, and it makes your heart ache.

You’ve dated a few guys casually in Jaehyun’s absence, and Mittens has never liked any of them. She always was a daddy’s girl- after all, you’d started dating Jaehyun only a few months after you’d picked her up from the shelter.

You still have pictures of the two of them on your phone, hidden in a secret file- you’d never had the heart to delete them, and as you watch their reunion, you’re glad you never did.

“She missed you,” you admit. “We both did.”

You watch Jaehyun’s Adam’s apple bob with effort, your words clearly invoking emotion. You’re quick to look away.

“Can I get you anything?” you ask, kicking off your shoes. “I had a few drinks at the bar, was planning on making a grilled cheese-”

“You still do that?” Jaehyun asks.

“Yeah.” Your throat feels dry admitting another ghost of your past you still haven’t been able to shake. “I still do that.”

Grilled cheese after a night out had always been your thing, and when you’d started dating Jaehyun, it had become his thing too. You can’t even count how many nights the two of you came home from university parties only to make a grilled cheese and collapse on your bed, giggling and kissing like kids in love.

“A grilled cheese sounds perfect,” Jaehyun says. “Thank you.”

He follows you into the kitchen. As you begin to make the late-night snack, you realize Jaehyun has no intention of putting Mittens down. She basks in his attention, letting out upset chirps any time he tries to stop petting her to help you in small ways.

Jaehyun asks you about your job, and from that, the two of you begin to talk about your lives over the past two years. It feels too natural to slip into this type of conversation. His presence is so calming and familiar- by the time you’re done making the grilled cheese for you to share, it’s almost as if the past two years never happened.

It’s almost as if you never left him.

Almost as if he never left you first.

“Do you want to eat in here?” Jaehyun asks, heading to the small kitchen table.

“We can go to my bedroom,” you say softly. “Unless you wanted to be here.”

“Your bedroom is good.”

He follows you through your apartment, but when you get to your room, he stops in the doorway.

“I can’t get over how little this place has changed,” he muses, looking at the layout of the space.

“Yeah,” you sit down on your bed, lifting your legs onto the mattress and setting the plate by your knee. “I guess I’m used to it like this.”

Jaehyun knows all too well how comfortable you get, how hard it is for you to make changes. You think it must be one of the reasons he never fought the breakup. If you’d gotten to the point of needing an emotional separation to deal with the physical distance, pushing you to change your mind would have only made things worse.

“Can we come sit with you?” Jaehyun asks.

“Of course.” You gesture to the mattress. “Make yourself at home, Jae.”

With a small chuckle, he comes to join you. He’s careful when he sets Mittens down, and she immediately stretches, letting out a massive yawn before coming to investigate the grilled cheese.

Jaehyun reaches for his half of the sandwich. “I missed these.”

“It’s just a grilled cheese,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but there’s something special about the way you make it. I can’t explain it.”

You can only offer him a smile as you both lift the gooey, cheesy, greasy, crispy bread to your lips. The crunch is satisfying, and Jaehyun shifts the food to his right hand so he can pet Mittens with his left.

The two of you eat in silence, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. As your meal comes to a quick end, your phone begins to ring, and you stand up to answer it. “Give me a sec,” you tell him, exiting the room while Mittens rushes to follow you.

“Hey girl,” your best friend says. “You okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Seeing your ex must have been pretty hard.”

“Actually, uh…” you look toward your open bedroom door, swallowing thickly then lowering your voice, “he’s at my apartment with me.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, we’re talking things out.”

“Just talking?” You can hear the cheeky grin in her voice.

“Don’t be like that,” you laugh.

“Girl, you and that man were a dream couple. He’s the one that got away, and now he’s in your apartment- he’s probably sitting on your bed, eating grilled cheese-”

“God, stop,” you groan. “Am I that predictable?”

“Nah, it was hashtag just couple things. Okay, look, obviously you’re doing good- I was worried you were somewhere crying and drowning yourself in booze. I’ll leave you be. Say hi to him for me.”

“Will do.” You hang up, looking down at Mittens. She’s circling your feet, and with a sigh, you go to refill her food bowl. You’d given her lunch hours ago, and you feel bad that she just watched you down a grilled cheese with nothing for her own little mittens to get a hold of.

Also… your best friend knows you too well.

Your body is reacting to Jaehyun as if there was never a separation- or maybe, your body is reacting because there was a separation. Your pulse is picking up with each step back to your bedroom, and when you close the door behind you, Jaehyun cocks a brow, finishing his grilled cheese with one last large bite.

“You good?” he asks.

“I’m great,” you tell him, approaching the bed.

“Yeah?” Jaehyun’s gaze moves to the closed door, and he offers you a dimpled grin, mischief flaring on the edges of his expression. “You locked out Mittens.”

Nothing gets past this man. You’ve never loved getting intimate while Mittens is trying to hog Jaehyun’s attention, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he got you figured out the moment you closed the door to your bedroom.

“Don’t even with me, Jae.” You sigh, collapsing onto the mattress next to him while he moves the grilled cheese plate to the side table.

“Look, I don’t want you to feel any pressure just cuz I’m here and we’re sitting on your bed-”

“Does it look like I feel pressure?” you ask, hyper-aware of the way your dress is riding up your thighs.

Jaehyun gives you a slow once-over. “I guess not.”

“You really mean what you said about not going away a second time?” You look down. “Because I don’t think I could take it if we gave this another try and three months down the line you moved cities again.”

Your ex nods. “I promise. If you give me one more chance, I won’t let you down.”

You stare at Jaehyun for a moment, studying the sincerity on his face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You open your arms, resting back against the pillows and spreading your legs. “Now come here.”

Jaehyun practically leaps on top of you. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, his mouth pressing to your own while you wrap him in a tight embrace. He kisses you like he’s been starved of your lips.

He retains some of the gentleness that he’d exhibited outside of the club, but there’s a desperation too, you can almost taste it on him… along with the grilled cheese.

The thought makes you smile, and Jaehyun breaks the kiss to look down at you, also grinning. “What?”

“Nothing, just- I’m happy.”

“Me too,” he admits, looking down at your beaming face before he grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling your head to the side so he can access your neck. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure.

You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows.

“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.

“Never again,” he promises, voice husky in your ear.

His hand slides down the curve of your body, grasping at your thighs and slowly pushing your dress up. Your hips move, rutting in an attempt to spur him on. When his fingers finally find your core through your panties, you swear you see stars. He begins to rub your clit, circling it as he applies more and more pressure.

His mouth continues on your neck, and you begin to whimper from the stimulus.

You’d nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by someone who knows you inside and out- by someone who cares about your pleasure more than he’s ever cared about his own.

“Jae,” you whimper, breathing heavily as he rubs your core.

“Yes, baby?” His lips are gentle along your throat, and the feather-light touch almost teases you more than a rougher one would.

“Can we skip the foreplay? I need you.”

Jaehyun’s fingers stop on your clit, and he pushes himself up on an elbow, looking down at you with a quizzical set to his brow. “Skip the foreplay?” he repeats, letting out a scoff. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you if you ever gave me a second chance for over two years. We’re not skipping the foreplay.”

“But-”

“Please don’t argue with me. Just let me have this. Just let me enjoy the body I’ve missed so much. I’ve missed your sounds, the way you react to my touch-” his fingers pick up their pace on your clit again, and you let out a whine, pushing toward him again. “See? You’re perfect. No matter how many memories of this I have, nothing compares to the real thing.”

When you’d been dating Jaehyun initially, he was - for lack of a better word - pretty vanilla. This dirty talk is new, and it makes your stomach erupt into butterflies. Your mind goes practically blank, lulled into a lusty trance by the musings of a man who’s clearly bewitched by you, body and soul.

When your gaze dips down to his hand between your thighs, you notice the way his cock is straining in his pants. “Can I…” you swallow thickly, “Can I touch you too?”

“Yeah.” His mouth returns to your throat, and he pushes your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

You mewl at his words, quickly fumbling with the button of his pants so you can push them down just far enough to take his cock out of his briefs. Jaehyun releases a low groan and it makes your pussy flutter as you begin to stroke him.

Your ex reacts by slipping his fingers into your core, two long digits going knuckle deep. He tests your walls, grazing your g-spot when he begins to lazily pump his hand, his palm firmly pressing to your clit.

A whimper of pleasure escapes you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your neck. “The prettiest sounds,” he muses. “How did you ever get this pretty?”

It’s a rhetorical question, and it makes you feel cock drunk and dumb, your chest pushing up against his own, looking for stimulus- your nipples are hard in your bralette, but you wish you were naked already, wish you could feel him better-

“Jae?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Can you take my dress off?”

Jaehyun pulls his hand away from your core, bringing his two wet fingers to your lips. He pushes them into your mouth, propping himself up so he can look down at you while you suck his digits clean. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You groan around his fingers, the act of sucking is turning you on more than you’d care to admit, but it ends too quickly as Jaehyun pulls his hand away.

He sits up, taking off his own shirt first. Then he reaches down to grab at the hem of your dress, slowly dragging it up your form. Jaehyun’s eyes take in each strip of newly exposed skin, and you can see the way his pupils have blown with interest.

You lift your shoulders off the bed, making it easier for him to tear the fabric off of you and toss it to the side. This leaves you in your bralette and panties, both of which you’re eager to have join your dress on the floor.

Jaehyun’s hand reaches out to cup your breast, his thumb smoothing over the pebbled nipple that’s pushing through the silky fabric. He squeezes you gently, forcing you to release a moan of pleasure.

A moment later, he’s removing your panties, then your bra, fingers pinching at your newly exposed nipple.

Your hand, meanwhile, returns to his cock- only for Jaehyun to grab at your wrist, pulling you away.

You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but then Jaehyun turns your hand palm up, and he spits into the center of it, bringing it back to his cock.

There’s no way that action should have been as sexy as it was- your core throbbing as you begin to stroke his rock-hard length.

With one last lustful look at your body, Jaehyun settles over top of you again, his mouth seeking out your breasts while you pump his cock. The feeling of his tongue flicking against you has you crying out, pushing your chest toward his mouth. His teeth graze over your sensitive nipple and you respond by applying more pressure to his cock.

Jaehyun groans loudly, rutting his hips into your hand, which stills so you can allow him to fuck your palm. He continues to worship your breasts while his hips do most of the work, and you surrender yourself to the pleasurable scenario you’ve found yourself in.

“You know…” Jaehyun presses another kiss to your nipple, “I was going to ask you to sit on my face, but… it’s hard being this close to your pretty pussy and not just… slipping it in.”

“Yeah?” You guide his cock closer to your core, so that when he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock glides through your soaked folds. “Then just do it.”

“Here I was, saying not to skip the foreplay- but here I am, giving in to you like always.”

Jaehyun releases a laugh, and it makes you giggle along with him, because it’s true. Jaehyun may have this sexy, devil-may-care attitude, but he’s always been a total simp for you.

He was completely wrapped around your finger when you first met, and he’s completely wrapped around your finger now. It’s interesting how so much can change, and so little can change at the same time.

“You just feel so good,” Jaehyun groans, thrusting again, the tip of his pretty pink flushed cock just slipping inside of you-

“Fuck, Jae, please-” you push your chest up toward his face again, pumping his length, trying to guide him deeper-

He brings his mouth to your own, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss as he sheaths himself into your wet core.

You let out a low whine, wrapping your legs around his hips and releasing his cock in favor of grabbing his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Fuck-” Jaehyun moans, staying still inside of you while your walls pulse around his shaft. “Missed this perfect pussy, baby.”

“Missed your perfect cock,” you retort, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and drawing him in for another kiss.

His tongue clashes against your own, his hands finding your hips so he can steady himself as he begins to rut into you.

You love getting lost in him. You can feel your mind slipping away, your body giving into its primal instincts as Jaehyun makes love to you the way he has so many times before.

One of his hands finds your own, taking it from his shoulder and lacing your fingers above you, pressing you into the pillow. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, breathing heavily.

“There’s so much I’ve wanted to say,” Jaehyun admits.

“Then say it,” you urge him, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

He nuzzles against your palm, closing his eyes for a moment while he enjoys your touch. “I’ve missed everything about you. You’ve been on my mind every day for two years.”

Your heart aches.

“It’s more than just the sex, and you know it. I’ve missed holding you,” he squeezes your hand, “missed sleeping next to you. Missed late-night talks and grilled cheese. Missed your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Missed the way you cry at sad parts in movies-”

As he talks, the pace of his thrusts gets faster, and you find it harder and harder not to moan like a whore and interrupt his cute little speech about missing you.

In fact, it’s hard to even keep your eyes open, but your gaze is caught in his own. Jaehyun’s staring into your soul, baring himself to you like a man who’s brought all his walls down.

“I love you,” Jaehyun says gruffly, “I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one single day. It’s you, and it’s always been you.”

Your stomach muscles clench at his admission, orgasm bubbling to the surface fast from the combination of his movements and his words.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you, licking his lips. “Just rub your clit and let me feel your perfect pussy clench around me as you cum, that will be answer enough.”

With a loud whine, you throw your head back against the pillow, threading your free hand between your bodies. The first touch of your fingers on your clit has you throbbing already, and you release a gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” Jaehyun coos, lips finding your throat. “Just like that.”

“Jae-”

“I know, I know you’re close- must be pent up like me, right? We’re both going to cum way too fast, but that’s okay, we have all the time in the world to enjoy each other- the way I’m going to eat your perfect pussy for breakfast tomorrow morning-”

Your core pulses at the thought, and you rub your clit harder.

“Gonna let go for me, right, baby? I’m so close, want you to cum with me.”

“I’m there-” you tell him, shivering as he licks the sweet spot on your throat. ‘Fuck, Jae-”

“You want me to cum inside right? You’re still on the-”

“Cum inside,” you interrupt him. “God, fuck, please- need you to fill me up-”

Jaehyun groans, squeezing your hand again. His lips move from your neck to your mouth, and your tongues clash in a breathless, moan-filled frenzy, your orgasms just out of reach-

One more whimpered “please” out of you has Jaehyun moaning, his high crashing into him. You can feel him filling you up with his cum, and it triggers your own orgasm. A gasp escapes you, your sensitive nipples pressing against his chiseled chest-

You can feel him everywhere. He’s all-consuming. You completely let go, sounds uninhibited, pussy throbbing harder than it has in the past two years.

Jaehyun fucks you through it, until you’re both sweaty, gasping messes. Then he collapses on top of you, giving your captured hand one last squeeze before adjusting. He rolls off of you just enough to tuck you close to his chest, hand finding your hair and beginning to pet you.

You can hear the racing of his heart as he catches his breath.

As you come down from your high, you feel a welling of emotion bubbling inside of you. You’re shocked when a tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re quick to brush it away. Jaehyun notices the movement and tilts his head to assess you.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “I’m just…. I’m happy, and I missed you a lot.”

“Baby,” Jaehyun’s fingers draw pretty nothings on your back, “I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I've been reading a lot of shorter smut fics recently, and after doing such a big kick-off in January, I wanted to try a shorter piece again, and challenge myself with a little angst :)

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🔮 preview. “Listen, I promised myself I wasn't going to cum in or on you tonight - you know, seeing as you’re my wife tomorrow and I don’t want to disrespect you - but since you’re begging for it,” Jaehyun slips the tip of his cock inside of you, only to pull away, “I guess I can settle for cumming on your ass, but only if we shower together after.”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, creampie, pussy eating champ Jae, pussy worship, fingering, 69, blow job, hand job, deep throating, gentle choking, begging, dirty talk, slight cum kink/mentions of exhibitionism, finger sucking, multiple reader orgasms, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader

bonus

Since you got back with Jaehyun over a year ago, the two of you haven’t been separated for longer than twelve hours, but tomorrow is the day of your wedding, and there are certain traditions about the bride and groom staying apart- so here you are, cuddled on a couch in your hotel room, missing your fiance.

When your phone rings and Jaehyun’s pretty face shows up as the contact on your screen, you fumble over yourself to pause your movie and answer it. “Jae?”

“Hey, baby. What room are you in again?”

You think about it for a moment. You’d never actually told him where you’re staying in the hotel… “Why do you want to know?”

“Maybe I wanna send my fiance flowers before our wedding tomorrow.”

God, why’s he so charming?

You give him your room number without a second thought, hanging up with an ‘I love you.’

Five minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and you open it to find Jaehyun standing there with a massive dimpled grin on his face, and a vase of flowers in his hands. “Hi, baby.”

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general taglist

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✘ nct taglist

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#jaehyun #jaehyun smut #nct #nct smut #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #jeong jaehyun #jeong jaehyun smut #jaehyun nct #nct jaehyun #nct jaehyun smut #jaehyun nct smut #jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun x reader

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wonton4rang · 3 months ago

Note

First kiss with bnd members and maybe how long it takes them to confess (maybe they wait for you to confess first tho idk)

omggg let’s gooo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

pairing: bnd x reader.

warnings: none ? maybe suggestive for the legal line members.

summary: how would be your first kiss w bnd and how long would it take for them to confess/ or if you confess first.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sungho; a first kiss w him would be so lovely omg, he would plan this for weeks and then when the time actually came and you two were finally alone, he would be sooooo nervous, his whole big boy façade would drop but that would honestly make it cuter. cheeks flushed while he softly pressed his lips against yours and held your frame with his strong arms, making you feel him so close your heart started to race. he would confess, it might take him some time (like a few months - one to three) but he would definitely do it.

riwoo; he would ask you a thousand times if you are okay with him kissing you, you would answer a thousand times yes and he would still ask again because honestly he couldn’t believe he was going to kiss you and he definitely didn’t want to mess it up and push you away. he could confess or you may need to do it yourself, it honestly depends on how shy he might be feeling. if he gathers the courage, he’ll confess like within a month, he wouldn’t do it faster just because he wants to make sure you like him back :(

jaehyun; omg he is such a simp 😭😭 he would be sooooo obvious and everyone would know he likes you, it’s no secret to anyone. so one day he gets bold and compliments your lipstick, you making a joke of how cute it would look on him just for jaehyun to blush and ask if that meant he could kiss you. well, you were kinda dropping hints and gratefully he picked them up. as for the confession, do you really need one? he says everyday how much he likes you and enjoys spending time with you, so if he confesses it’ll be while he asks you to date him :’)

taesan; he is kinda quiet so i don’t think he would verbally ask for a kiss even if he is dying for one. so he would just look at you and smile, his heart beat accelerating when you got closer and smiled back at him “i dont want to be rude or anything but i think you are really cute” you would say and even before he answers you would continue “and this party is lit, but it could be better if we were making out”, well, that was said and done. on the other hand, you may need to confess to this one, if he doesn’t do it first with some playlists and a nice dinner, you will need to come forward !!

leehan; shameless. what can I say? he knows you like him cause he’s hot, he likes you too cause u also hot, so you end up kissing because the attraction was mutual. then u realize that you really like him and get nervous because his flirty ass has you confused and you don’t know if it’s mutual :’) well, it is, he would confess it in the most nonchalant way “hey, i like you, would you like to go out sometime?” excuse you?!?? three sleepless nights for this, oh my.

woonhak; ok, hear me out. woonhak is a very extroverted individual, if he likes you, he wouldn’t think it twice before confessing… truly a loyal boy, he knows what he wants and he wouldn’t mind saying it out loud. but when it comes to kissing you?? he turns into this shy, sweet, gentle, trembling boy that would just giggle at everything you say and his cheeks would be flushed red. you would have to kiss him yourself for the first time, after that he’ll take the lead.

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carmenized-onions · 7 months ago

Text

Tony, Terry, Tommy? | Walk-In Hotfix

synopsis; You get an unexpected call from an old friend in need of an emergency repair. Good thing: that's kind of your whole gig. Bad thing: You've been avoiding the Berzatto family for the past year.

tasting notes; hurt comfort? idk man, he's in a fuckin' freezer. this is gonna be a long slow-burn series. We don't use Y/N here and we've got a very preestablished storyline going on babes. Eat up.

portion; 3.1k+

possible allergies; SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS, I've started writing this before Season 3 comes out in June so we're going WAY off canon (unless I'm an oracle), Mikey is gonna be central baby, any tw you require for the bear-- you require for this.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns!)

I have not written fanfiction in 5-6 years and once again some goddamn pretty boy just YOINKS me back in. I'm making up my own season three here so I'm kinda flying by the seat of my pants with this series, hopefully it turns out. If it doesn't... C'est la vie, I had fun.

The inciting incident, the thing that pulls you in, and permanently alters the trajectory of your life— Is honestly quite boring, because it’s just a phone call from an old friend.

You stare at your screen for what feels like eons but it’s really just a few rings. It’s enough time to frantically search through blankets on your couch for your remote to pause your show— Which might as well be like 10 years of time. You’re heavily debating not answering; what if it’s something heavy? What if a mutual childhood friend died? What if it’s a love or murder confession? What if it’s about the money you owe her? The money she owes you?

Do you really want to take that kind of call? On what’s been a peaceful Friday night? That’s a rarity in your part of Chicago, c’mon. If it’s important, she’ll leave a voicemail... Who are you kidding, she doesn’t leave voicemails— Frankly, it’s bizarre and concerning that she’s calling in the first place instead of spam texting. …Alright, she’s let it get to the fourth ring, she’s probably dead or dying. You need to pick up.

“…Syd?”

She sounds infinitely stressed, but relieved to hear your voice.“Hey, hey, uh—”

There’s a cacophony of yelling, banging, and what you imagine are kitchen noises in the background. Guess she kept to her guns after Sheridan. That’s nice. Or maybe it’s not. Hard to tell.

“Are you good?” She can’t see the concern on your face or your free arm crossing over your waist— But she can imagine it in the worried lilt of your voice.

“Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah— I-I’m good— Well actually, no, I’m not good, that’s why I’m calling. Actually. Sorry. I know it’s been a minute, it’s fucked up to call only when I need something—”

“Syd.”

“Is your dad still a handy-man?”

Ah. Goodbye peaceful Friday night. Hello emergency hotfix services.

You click your teeth, “Oh, no, he retired. Got a case of… Getting fucking old disease.” But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her. This is at least manageable— Whatever it is.

“Fuck. Okay. Fuck. Ha, yeah, my dad’s got that too— Well, okay, then I’ll talk—”

You’re quick to jump in. “I took over the business though. So, if you’re—" “We need help so bad right now.”

You can’t help but laugh at the speed of it, but immediately feel guilty hearing the desperation in it. “Yeah? Who’s we?”

You stick the cellphone in the crux of your neck, already walking across your apartment to throw on your jumpsuit— Dark navy blue, elbow length sleeves, dad’s old logo embroidered on your right breast pocket.

CHICAGO’S KINDEST ⚒ FIXERS & CO. It’s managed to grow on you.

There’s an egregious number of patches ironed or sewn onto the back and shoulders of it. All from businesses you and your father had either worked with or done odd jobs for. A NASCAR jumpsuit, but for nostalgia and small businesses. Something something ‘it all starts with your neighbourhood’. Your dad would say.

Syd continues, she hasn’t changed much. You hear her sharp dicing in the background, the rhythm seems to calm down into an actual flow instead of erratic speed. You figure either the dinner rush is starting to slow down or she’s relieved you’re coming. Who are you being humble for, no shot it’s the former.

“So, you know how I’m like— Like a chef and shit?”

You hum the affirmative, putting her on speakerphone so you can pull out your tool kit with both hands.

“So like, I actually co-own this restaurant opening tonight.”

“Oh nice!”

“Yeah— Yeah, yeah, it’s really nice, but actually, it’s not, because it’s bad.”

“In the way I can fix?”

“In the way you can fix, yeah. Hopefully.”

“What’s the damage?”

“So, my co-owner uh, Carmen, he got locked in the walk-in. Like trapped.”

You take a beat, a confused one. Half-stepping, almost tripping. You stare at your tools, picking out what you’ll actually need for this— How the fuck— “How is he trapped in the walk-in?”

“So, he meant to call to get it fixed—” “And he didn’t?” “And he didn’t.”

“What was broke about it in the first place?”

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck.”

“Do you have the outside handle, still?”

“Yeah. Yeah, laying around somewhere— It snapped off though, like—”

“Clean?”

“Uh…. Y’know, I would check, but I’m actually kinda—"

“Can we run table 36, please, Chefs?!” Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice.

“Yes, Chef! …I’m kinda busy.”

“Right. Restaurant. Oh, what fucking restaurant? You said Carmen, that’s that fuckin’ Michelin guy, right?” Berzatto. It has to be. The smallness of this world is a personal prank on you.

“…How do you know that?” Son of a bitch.

“…I try to remember what you like.” It’s a good save, but that was too intimate for 3 years of no contact besides Happy Birthday texts, fuck fuck, recover— “Ahem, uh, Restaurant?”

“The Bear. Formerly The Beef. You do still live in Chicago, right?”

Berzatto. Confirmed. Bleh.

“Fortunate for you, I do. I know The Beef, I’m not far, I’ll be there in ten. Tell him to not have a panic attack, if you get a minute.”

“I will not get a minute. But I love the dream.”

And you’re off. Jumpsuit half zipped over what was supposed to be a sleep shirt but is now posthumously a work shirt. Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this. Carhartt jacket thrown over your shoulders— Your dad’s, so, a bit oversized. Toolbox in hand, utility belt on— Though you’re mildly sure if your hypothesis is right, you will only need your threateningly long sledgehammer.

Thank God for your car. CTA would not like you right now.

You pull up front. Oh boy. The sign change is making you feel a type of way that you were not expecting. Pride? Envy? All seven of the deadly sins? Maybe. No time to stew on it because there’s an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat with who you assume is her shivering son out front. So. Definitely going through the back alley instead of getting in the middle of that shit.

Alas, it’s not any better, because there’s Syd, vomiting next to a dumpster.

“Better to ignore or acknowledge you in this moment?” Is the response you decide is best, despite the question, you’re already by her side. You put your tools down (out of the splash zone) and rub her back with one hand, holding back straying braids with the other.

“I couldn’t—” More vomit. “Fuckin’ tell ya.” Syd takes a few deep breathes before standing. She considers going in for a hug, but remembers, the vomit. “Good to see you. I want to catch up, f’real, but—” “The bear in the walk-in?” “The bear in the walk-in.”

You nod, fishing through your pocket. You hand her a mini container of Tums. She waves it off, of course, and you double down, of course, “Who you acting tough for?”

“Fuckin… No one.” She grimaces, taking the box. She makes a show of taking one, like a fussy kid.

You refuse to take it back. “Keep it.”

“Never stopped being the mom friend, eh?”

You laugh, picking up your tools again. “Listen, there’s no telling what the night and your stomach holds. Lead the way?”

The Bear is pretty, or at least the kitchen of it is, so far. It’s clean. Cleaner than it used to be. The death trap walk-in is really the only eyesore for you. You stare at the broken-off handle in your hand, twisting it back and forth to look at all the angles. It’s honestly a pretty clean break.

Sydney’s left to talk to her dad, as she should, and the rest of the kitchen is either too busy to pay you mind or is just silently relieved to see you.

Tina— Who has thankfully opted to not say ‘Hey, good to see you, it’s been a year, what the fuck’—Taps the walk-in door and says to this elusive Michelin Carmen that she’ll be right back, that help’s here. He does not seem to register this at all. She gently slaps your cheek before rushing back to her station, regardless.

“Maybe I’m just not built for this, maybe, maybe that’s okay— Maybe that just is.”

You’ve never said his name to him, it feels heavy on your tongue. “Carmen.”

“Right? What the fuck was I thinking?”

Alright, he’s too far gone. You flag down one of the cooks that are just shadowing for the night. “Hey, can you hold this in place for me?”

You stick the handle into what’s left of the hinge still attached to the door, which is, not much— But hopefully, again, if your hypothesis is correct, it’ll give enough leverage. The cook holds it in place, a little terrified as your sledgehammer comes into view.

“Not gonna hit you, promise.”

“—I’m a fuckin’ psycho. That’s why. That’s why I’m good at what I do.”

You tap (bang) the hammer on the door, enough to stop his train of thought. For a second, at least. “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.”

“…Tony?”

“...Who the fuck is Tony?”

The meek cook beside you speaks up, “He means Tommy.”

And Tina is quick to yell from across the kitchen— hearing how? We don’t know. “It’s Terry!”

“I am none of these people.” You sigh, readying the hammer. “Carmen, can you stand up, and just tuck your fingers in the wedge of the door? If there is one?”

“Heard. Yeah.” There’s shuffling from in there, getting into position. Though the steps and the words seem dazed, as he’s forced out of a mental fog. “Here.”

“This isn’t a fix by the way. Your whole door is fucked after this. Not that it isn’t already, but, y’know.” You back up, teeing yourself up before running forward.

“Well, wait—”

You slam the mallet into the tip of the handle perfectly, forcing it way too tight into the gap of the hinge. You push the cook aside with your hip, now using the long handle of the mallet to stick between the knob and the door, using it as further leverage to pull it open. It is incredibly straining.

“Carmy!” Is it okay to say that nickname before you’ve even seen his face? Eh. You’re moving the boulder, he’ll forgive you. “You feel air?!”

“Holy shit— Yeah, yeah— Push?!” “Of course fucking push!”

And it becomes apparent in this exchange of force that this Head Chef must be significantly stronger than you, because it’s opening a lot faster now. Though, fast is a strong word for the snail pace this is happening at. But it’s more than the nothing that was happening a minute ago.

“Aye… Cousin?” Richie, in a… suit? Runs up to you, coming from front of house. He immediately grabs a free spot on the sledgehammer’s handle to help pull. He was shocked to see you doing, well, this, right now, but then upon registering, he’s just shocked to see you. Period.

You can only groan in response, sticking a leg up and putting your foot on the wall as if it’s gonna add meaningful leverage— Oh wait, it kinda is. “Y'clean up good, Rich— Opening going—Fuck— well?”

“Oh yeah, fucking peachy.” He can only manage to wheeze in reply. Investing his strength in yanking rather than reintroductions; thankfully it pays off.

The hinge shoots open, you would have absolutely fallen on your ass if Richie was not ready to stabilize you. The walk-in door cracks open. Just a bit. It’s not dramatic, it’s just a breath.

It’s so anti-climactic that Richie doesn’t mind walking off to cheer before Carmen even comes out. Clapping your back as he does. “That’s what I like to fuckin’ see, Cousin! Ingenuity!”

Though, to be fair, he’s moving to intercept a very sweet looking, worried girl. You look up at her, wheezing as you keel over slightly to catch your breath, hands on your knees. She’s saying something along the lines of ‘What’s going on?’ ‘Is he okay?’ Girlfriend? Probably. Richie seems to be coaxing her accordingly. You turn your head back to the door. Carmen hasn’t come out yet. That’s a red flag. With another wheeze, you stand up right, opening the door further, peeking in.

He's standing there, catatonic. Not looking at you, but straight forward, beyond you. He must’ve been by the door to push it open but now he’s stumbled against the back shelf. Every time his girl’s voice manages to ring into here, his eyes crinkle— Wince. His breath keeps hitching. He looks afraid. It is better to be caged right now than it is to be out there, doing whatever he could be doing, right now. Talking to anyone might be a death sentence, right now.

“I don’t need to provide amusement or enjoyment. I don’t need to receive any amusement or enjoyment. I’m completely fine with that.” He mumbles repeatedly. You can barely hear it over the buzzing of the freezer.

Whispering it just for himself, like some sort of fucked up mantra. Like it’s a state of inner peace to feel this bad. You doubt he even sees you right now.

You know you don’t know Carmy personally. Mostly just through hearsay.

He’s never met or heard of you, that’s for sure.

But you know Berzattos. Or. Knew the one.

And you know a downward spiral. Intimately.

And you know that right now, he’s fucking cold. He is shivering and making no move to leave that state. You think he thinks that’s the state he deserves to stay in.

Nothing to lose but a good first impression, right? You drop a screwdriver in the doorway as a doorstop— Because how fucking dumb would it be if you both got stuck? And. Extremely slowly, you approach him not unlike approaching an actual captive bear. In your eyes, you might as well be.

Standing right in front of him doesn’t stop his mantra. You slip your jacket off, half hugging him to drape it over his shoulders. “You’re just cold.”

“I’m a—” “You’re just. Cold.” You cut him off before he has the chance to self-deprecate again, smoothing out the sleeves on him. His eyes readjust to actually look at you rather than somewhere beyond.

You sniff. You’re already cold and it’s been 30 seconds. This poor thing. You rub your hands together, breathing hot air into them before touching them to his frigid fucking face. “Fuck you’re really cold. Like danger cold.”

Never being one for boundaries or hesitation, you hug yourself to him. It’s the fastest way to warm him up. You slip your hands under the jacket— Your jacket— And just engulf the Italian Popsicle Man before you.

Shockingly, he doesn’t push you off or suddenly reawaken to his senses and tell you to fuck off. He doesn’t flinch, if anything he leans in. His body doesn’t really have time for surprise, right now, it just takes what it needs. And what it needs is warmth and oxytocin. His breathing slowly but surely self regulates, and once you start to remember decorum you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder, like the world’s most gentle hook, and that alone is enough to keep you there.

It's a long, silent, liminal spacey moment before he speaks again. Both of you speak just above the decibel of the freezer's buzzing.

“You’re not Tony.”

“Terry.”

“You’re Terry?”

“No, Tina said Tony’s Terry. I don’t know who the fuck Terry is.”

“Terry’s the fridge guy.”

“You’re still going to need to call him; I did just make it worse.”

“That’s fine.” He swallows. “Who called you?”

“Syd.”

“Should’ve called you earlier.”

“Should’ve called the fridge guy earlier.”

“Yeah.” He sighs, but he makes no move to move, so you don’t either.

“You know Mikey too?”

Ah. The patch. The Beef. It's worn, but it sits proudly on the left shoulder of your jumpsuit. Your heart tightens and so does your posture.

“Yeah.” You sigh. It’s shakier than you’d like it to be. “Dad knew him, so then I knew him, so then I occasionally fixed shit for him. Shit that ‘Fak couldn’t?’ I think his name was?”

“Hm.” He hums. “He ever got locked in the walk-in?”

“Yeah, he really fucked it up, like waayy worse than whatever happened with you tonight. Like whatever happened. At least 10 times worse.” Your voice is coated with sarcasm, but it’s not entirely untrue.

You’re relieved, when Carmen laughs at this, a touch maniacally, but it’s something. Right now, any emotion from him besides regret and anxiety feels like a trophy. He straightens up, pushing his hair back, so you remove your arms.

“You’re fuckin’ funny, Tony.”

“Still not Tony.”

“Oh my god!” A blonde, very pregnant woman cracks the door open, relieved. “Are you okay, Bear?” You step aside so she can hug Carmen, holding his cheeks to look over him. Oh, this has to be—

“I’m good, I’m great, Sug.” He says this incredibly unconvincingly, hanging one hand on her wrist.

But what matters more in your brain right now is: That’s Sugar. Natalie.

And now you can put a face to both siblings you’ve been bitched about to.

Chain-smoker, means well, cringeworthy husband, too good for her family, incredibly judgemental, cares too much and worries more, loves to fight, her mother’s daughter, pushy, sticks her foot in her mouth, can’t take no for an answer, would lay down her life. Natalie Berzatto. Little sister.

Michelin Star retaining, big shot, sensitive, definitely a virgin, ball buster, sweats the small stuff, sweetheart, asshole, incredibly smart, flighty, coward, deeply loyal, whiny, screamer, show-off, fantastic drawer, shell, mister new york, annoyingly humble, undeniably the most talented. Carmen Berzatto. Baby brother.

Mikey’s words. Of course.

Nat turns her gaze over to you, “Thank you.” You can only bring yourself to nod in reply, a bit awkward— Lost in your rolodex of memories of the people you’ve never actually met until right now. It’s weird to feel parasocial about a normal person.

“Our toilet, exploded.” She says.

Now that pulls out you of it, and gets a laugh out of you. You put your hand over your mouth. “Yeah?”

Sugar shakes her head, eyes widening like she’s just stepped in it, “I didn’t mean like— Like, you just did a job, right, that’s like tacking on another last-minute service—”

“That’s fine.” You put a hand up stopping her from continuing, still chuckling. “I’ll take a look at it tonight and try to fix it tomorrow?”

She nods, smiling bright, “Thank you, Tommy.”

Who needs to use Y/N when you have the fridge guy?

I so desperately hope you liked this first chapter. I've been stewing on this for like a week so I beg of you to reply/reblog/send me an ask (anon or not!!) telling me what you thought!! Unless it's mean!! In which case, do NOT!!!

And just a forewarning, as we step into uncharted territory where the walk-in meltdown was cut short, I need you to hold my hand through it bb. We're making this man's life better or we're gonna die trying.

Next Part

#carmen berzatto #carmy the bear #carmy x reader #the bear fx #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fanfiction #the bear x reader #the bear x you #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto imagine

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apollodarling-writes · 2 years ago

Text

Simon Says...

MINORS DNI!!!

desc: Simon “Ghost” Riley decides to take Simon says a bit further...

cw: multiple creampies, unsafe sex, ghost was out here rawdoggin you without a condom or even asking if you were on contraceptives beforehand smh, afab reader but no specified pronouns, marking, rough sex, uhh a lil blood play cause i feel like ghost would kinda be into that, dom!ghost/sub!reader, manhandling, spanking, bruising mention, public play, a little degradation, praise, Ghost is kinda mean at first, i use the term ‘pretty’ but it’s meant to sound gn, it might be kinda shitty... sorry ;(, idk if i mentioned it already but ghost is a sadist in this, reader shows slight masochism btw, kinda??? blood drinking, some possessive themes, throat fucking, this is fucking absolute filth, ghosty boy goes feral, simon's orgasm hits real hard for him- it's prolly the mutual pining and finally being able to fuck you tbh, uhhh also pussy drunk! simon, and some cunnilingus, dumbification, virgin!reader

this isn't proofread. it's also prolly a little shitty at the end. I was rushing to get this out.

@willywonkagirly @darklordofthesimp @ifellinthebongebong @midnightlockhearth

Everything started with you challenging Ghost to a drinking contest. No one in the 141 Task Force had the pleasure of seeing the man drunk, and you would be the one to change that. Upon deciding the night was nice enough, and hoping that luck would be on your side, you had slung your arm over the man’s shoulder and proposed the idea. Surprisingly, with enough begging and batting your eyelashes halfheartedly, Ghost had finally agreed.

The rest of it was a blur. One moment you were flirting with Ghost, and the next you were being dragged to the bathrooms in the back of the bar, shoulders slamming against the cool metal of the divider.

“Ghost! What the hell?” You weakly protest, your words slurring together.

“You like to play games, don’t you?” The man growls, venom dripping from every word that leaves his lips.

“What are you-“ Ghost’s hand shoots out, gripping your jaw.

“Did I say you could speak, [Name]?” Your eyes widen as you gently shake your head. “Then don’t speak.”

You bite your lip as the Lieutenant purrs, “You learn quick don’t you, Angel?”

“Now, since you like to play games with me, what d’ya say to a nice ol’ game of Simon Says?”

Simon says?

You furrow your brows at the man’s choice of game, but agree nonetheless. With a slight nod of the head, you hear Ghost chuckle.

“We’ll start off simple, yeah?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “Simon Says: Take off my mask.”

You blanch. “A-Are you sure, Gh-“

The Lieutenant clicks his tongue, followed by a disappointed sigh. Thick fingers wrap around the soft flesh of your throat as he ghosts his cloth-covered lips along your jaw, nipping at your flesh here and there.

“Are you gonna be good for me, or am I going to have to make you? I’d prefer that you be the good little bitch you are, but…” Ghost trails off for a moment, an arm wrapping around your back, pulling you flush against his broad chest, his other hand trailing lower and lower. “I don’t mind putting you in your place, Angel.”

His fingers just barely brush against your clothed clit- a promise of what’s to come if you’re good for him.

“Will you be good for me, Pretty?” Parting your lips as the man applies gentle pressure, you quickly nod your head. Ghost releases a sultry chuckle, butterflies filling your tummy as a result, and removes his grip on you.

“Good.”

The LT takes a step back, allowing you to shakily pull his mask off.

He’s beautiful, is your first thought.

The man had to be a god. With pretty, plush lips, dirty blond hair that’s grown out just a tad more than Ghost- no, Simon- would’ve liked, long lashes that frame his gorgeous ice-blue eyes… you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.

"Ya like what ya see, Sargeant?"

"You weren't kidding when you said you were far from ugly..." You murmur, causing the man to chuckle. His eyes meet yours, a hungry, lustful look swirling within. Simon reaches his hand forward, cupping your cheek and brushing the pad of his thumb against your lip.

"Simon Says: kiss me."

You inch closer to him, gently pressing your lips against his and wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. The man quickly takes the lead, tongue brushing over your bottom lip and fingers gripping the meat of your waist- surely, there would be bruises tomorrow. Simon kisses you heatedly, lifting one of your thighs and pinning it against his hip, biting your lip and tongue here and there.

"You drive me fuckin' crazy, love." He murmurs, pressing chaste kisses to your jaw, trailing down the length of your neck.

Ghost bites down on the apex of your shoulder, forcing a pained whine to erupt from your throat. He shivers at the sound and sinks his canines deeper into your flesh, reluctantly pulling away as you begin to squirm and licks up the droplets of blood leaking from the wound.

Simon's gaze drops to the bitemark he left- a pretty purple and red taking up a portion of your shoulder. Blood rushes to the man's cock, the pants he wears beginning to strain rather painfully against his flushed tip.

"Simon says: get on your knees."

You immediately obey, mouth watering at the promise those four words held. He hurriedly unzips his jeans, the imprint of his cock making you whimper. Your core pulses as he lowers his boxers, length slapping against his abdomen, the sensitivity of it causing a poorly contained groan to form in his throat.

One hand wraps around the base, roughly tapping your lips with the leaking tip, while the other tangles itself in your hair.

"Open."

You obey.

"Suck"

You obey.

Simon's hand guides your head, forcing his cock deep into your throat.

"Doin' so good for me." He groans. "Feels so fuckin' good."

Ghost holds your head in place as he comes closer and closer to his climax, length thrusting in and out of your throat. Heat pools in your tummy, thighs clenching together as one hand slowly reaches down to fondle your clit.

"'m gonna fuckin' cum. 'm gonna fuckin cum-" Simon groans, hips suddenly stilling and eyes screwing shut as his vision borders a delicious white. He shakily pulls out, fingers brushing against your cheek, and orders you to swallow all of it.

Just like before, you obey.

"Simon says: Strip."

Swallowing thickly, you begin to strip off your clothes. By now, your underwear was practically transparent- glistening in the dim lighting, the outline of your heat on display for the LT. He hooks a finger around the seams of the garment and tears the fabric from your body.

Simon is quick to replace the fabric- his tongue lazily drawing circles on your nub and fingers prodding at your slit.

"'m gonna make you cum 'fore I fuck you." Ghost murmurs his promise into the meat of your inner thigh, releasing a throaty groan as he relishes in the taste of you.

He coaxes one orgasm out of you.

Two orgasms.

Three orgasms.

Simon didn't want to stop. Between your fingers tugging harshly in his hair, the pretty purple marks blooming in the shape of his hand on your outer thighs, and the name carved into your tummy- Simon Riley was sure he was dreaming. The taste of you, the feel of you, the scent of you; everything was just too good to be true.

"Simon please- hah fuck!- need you inside me." You whine, hips bucking at just the right angle forcing a fourth orgasm from you.

"'m so proud of you, Angel. Did so fuckin good for me, yeah?" Simon stands from his kneeling position, picking you up and pressing your back against his chest- arms hooked beneath your knees and aligning your hole with his cock. "How about I fuck you dumb, hm? How about that, baby?"

"Please. Please, Si- I just need you. Need'ta be filled."

Ghost sinks you on his cock slowly, the pain from the stretch causing you to bite your lip and tears to prick your eyes.

"Si- I've never- I've never-"

"I'll be gentle, pretty. Just feel good for me." Simon begins raising you to the middle of his shaft, and sinks you down ever so slowly. Tension pools into the pit of your stomach, growing tighter and tighter, making you more sensitive as time goes on. Simon adjusts his angle, hitting a spot inside you that makes the tension crash down on you- your mind going blank and walls fluttering around Simon.

"Fuck-" Simon increases his pace- hips snapping into yours as he comes closer to his own orgasm. His hips never still as he spurts thick ropes of cum into you, fucking it back into you with each thrust.

Simon slams you on his cock, back pressed against the cool metal, as his hips snap up to meet halfway.

"'s too much Si-"

"Take what I give you, slut- oh god, 'm gonna fuckin cum again-"

Simon fucks into you faster and faster as he chases his own orgasm, forcing another from you. "'m gonna fuckin breed that pretty little pussy of yours. Need'ta make you mine-"

Simon cums a final time, dripping onto the floor as he gently pulls out from you, pressing a kiss to your temple and cleaning you up.

"Ya think they're fuckin?"

"Soap MacTavsish."

"Sorry, sorry."

3K notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year ago

Note

I have an odd request… perhaps a captain price fic where the reader is much younger and edgy- likeee covered in tats and stuff,, and price isn’t rly used to that but finds it hot as hell… idk maybe they work together ?? Smut ensues …

IDK I have tatts and wonder what he’d think of that 👹👹

Just an idea 💡❤️😫

Fire it Up (John Price x F!Reader)

Word count: 7.8 k

Tags/warnings: Smut 🔞 mutual pining, flirting, swearing, older man/younger woman dynamic, forbidden love, smoking & drinking, voice kink, a tiny brat taming kink squeezed itself in here too. Reader has tattoos and works as a coder at the base. Rough ~10yrs age gap described, reader is of age I hope to god it goes without saying (Price is canonically 37) Also: no use of 'daddy' in this fic

A/N: I'm so glad for this request anon and I hope you like what I made! Also people please be gentle, this is my first Price fic 🥹 God I wish I could attach the fat scent of cigar here to give you the full experience.

You don't know what caught your attention first.

The cigar, perhaps. Or the beard? Might be his hips, the ass that tells you this man can fuck a woman for hours.

Or maybe it's the fact that he's too old for you.

No, not too old…

Just older than you. A decade, perhaps, if you were being gentle with him and lenient with yourself.

He certainly isn't old enough to be your father, but he wasn't the type of man your eyes usually drifted on either.

He looks like someone who's supposed to be fishing in Alaska, sucking that fat cigar while taking in the view of mountains while trying to catch wild fish in some wide, free stream.

He's supposed to come home to a remote cabin: to his little wife who pours him a scotch after he has shown her what he caught today. Make sweet love to her while stars shoot and speckle the indigo night.

He looks like someone who makes love to women.

You, on the other hand, want to ride with him to the sunset on the back of a Harley, clutch his jacket as he drives you to some bizarre highway motel. You want to watch him drink that scotch from your navel.

You'd do all kinds of crazy shit with him, keep his head between your legs with both hands, grind all over that mustache, and see how wet it gets. You want him to pound you with those narrow hips, take you from behind while you look back with parted, swollen lips and relish the sight of what must be a grown man's hardened body, covered with hair and scars and–

"The bug's still there."

You return to reality, look at the code on your screen, and then at your colleague, a 20-something bloke who looks at you with the lethargic stare that only belongs to techies. You've just been caught daydreaming your eyes off in the middle of a lazy afternoon. Coffee doesn't do shit after 2 PM…

"Yeah I know. I'm working on it," you say. But when the dude leaves, you decide it's time for a creative break. You tell yourself it's only because the code jumps on the screen, not because you hope to catch a certain someone smoking outside.

The leather jacket is a little too much these days, but you throw it on out of pure habit. You realize the weight of your mistake when you go outside from the ventilated building and notice the sweltering heat. Spring has finally turned into summer.

Coffee doesn’t do shit, but it’s time for another kind of wakey-wakey. And butterflies are a funny term for something that mainly feels like it’s eating your insides out of pure excitement.

Because he's here too.

Jonathan Price, although no one calls him Jonathan. Few call him John, either.

Mostly, he goes by the title Captain.

He's stressed; you can tell. But his eyes soften immediately when they fall on you, a brief look to the side, just to know who else comes out to have a breath of fresh air or a smoke. He looks like he's been expecting you, but that might only be a silly girl's daydream. You two share a vice, and you've never been more grateful for your bad habit before this place and him.

And you wouldn't call it necessarily a bad habit. It's simply stress relief if you do it once or twice every few weeks. It's not like you smoke two packs a day. It's not like you even smoke one cig per day.

Although ever since you started this odd little job in this odd little place, you've smoked one or two nearly every day… And it's not because of the stress.

It's because of Price.

John. You’d like to see his reaction to you moaning that word in his ear…

"How long have you been here?"

His eyes are still on you, mouth covered by a hand as he makes love to his cigar. And that bedroom voice always gets you. It's better than the upcoming slow drag of nicotine. You're not here for tobacco at all.

"Two weeks." You reach for your excuse and try to prevent your hands from trembling as you light the cig. Usually, you're not this shy with people. Not with men, anyway. But with him, your wits and words disappear.

You blow the smoke through the air with a quick, lively wisp where he lets it roll out his tongue in a heavy cloud. He's still watching you as if to weigh what kind of woman you are exactly.

"How about you?" You continue the small talk with nervous ease.

He chuckles; the little smile even shows a flash of teeth as he steals a look at the clouds, calculating years with those surprisingly lively eyebrows curled up toward the sky.

"Ages."

He's not that old. Perhaps well over his thirties, might be knocking his forties. The statement is merely an underline of his stress today. You can only wonder what kind of pressure the captain of Task Force 141 is under when you get sleepless nights from a stupid source code. There are a few wrinkles around his eyes, but they only tell you that this man smiles a lot. He might be the only one in this compound who smiles a lot.

"Have you ever tried a cigar?"

There's a glint in his eyes as he offers the thick roll of tobacco to you. It's suddenly difficult to breathe, difficult to even keep your thoughts together.

"No," you shake your head as if your answer wasn't enough to tell him he's the first person ever to offer you such a thing. Then you realize the word does not precisely deliver your eagerness to try that stout cigar.

"Would love to," you hurry to add with a soft smile. "Can I have a taste?"

He walks to you slowly, and your eyes drop to those hips, which sway like he's purposely trying to seduce you.

Fu–ck…

Then your eyes sink even lower, between his legs, to his fucking junk, and it's too fucking late–

Jesus–get your shit together…

You force your eyes back to his and see the little glimmer in them gain a surprised spark – you're totally caught red-handed on checking him out.

Fuck. How can you be so stu–

"Gently then, kid."

You swallow your heart and thoughts down and take the offered cigar; of course, your first thought is how thick and heavy it is. And somehow, you decide right then and there that you will no longer be the nervous, hot-cheeked woman on the corner.

It's time to make him flustered.

So you take a hollow-cheeked, slow suck on the fat cigar. A chaste, savory taste, more like, but there's nothing chaste in the way you raise your eyes to his, putting every ounce of soft seduction in that stare.

He draws breath slowly – his face is full of expression for an allegedly cold-hearted elite soldier. You don't know how often women flirt with this hunk of a man, but he sure looks taken aback by your sudden play. Probably thinks you're too young for him – and you curse the second time you put that jacket on. You want to see his reaction to your sleeves.

"Mm. It's thicker than I thought," you weigh the cigar between your fingertips and let the smoke roll out your mouth. The man switches his weight from one foot to another, speechless, and you suppress a big beam of a smile.

"The taste," you emphasize as if innocent, as if you didn't see that shocked little shift. "Round, and… god, it's almost sweet."

You smile as you give it back, and he chuffs an approving laugh through his nose – those eyes are bear-warm playful now, his mouth curves into an easy smile.

"Nice," you look him up and down as if you're talking about the man and not the cigar.

"Beats those little sticks."

His voice drops down a few notes; it's almost a husky growl. You barely make out the words he's saying. The tension in the air could form little balls of lightning around you, the flirt is over the roof, and there's even no roof because you're outside – and you take your jacket off, slowly, to make it clear it's summer and not spring.

His eyes fall on the ink immediately, and he blinks a few times, draws some more breath – you tweet your thanks accompanied by another smile and go back inside.

You know he's checking your ass in those black jeans as you walk away.

….....

It doesn't end there.

You see him again and again and again, and at some point you realize he has to walk almost 100 meters from the other end of the base to get to the little corner where the two of you smoke.

He's intrigued but decent. Holds a distance, never says anything that could be taken in the wrong way – or even in the right way. But he's fucking you with his eyes.

No… making love to you.

And it drives you crazy.

You don't want that. You don't need that. To be that little wife in the cabin. Pouring him a drink, climbing in his lap, ghosting a finger down the stubble on his chin, see how wide and proud it makes him smile to hold you like you're his and his alone...

God. When did it come to this?

You suck on his fat cigar every now and then. Look him in the eyes while you do it. Once, it makes his tongue dart out, it wets his bottom lip, and then he does that thing with his mouth... the thing where he kind of purses his lips and it makes the mustache dip, and you realize, you learn it's a sign that he's restless, he's flustered.

You make the big, burly captain of Task Force 141 flustered.

And he doesn't smell like the people inside smell. Of stale coder sweat and Joy Division and soft drinks and mommy's home-cooked meals. He smells of rich forest and fine bourbon and half-burnt gasoline. Maybe Saxon on vinyl. Definitely beats those little sticks that are your nerdy co-workers at the hacker department, as you call it.

He may have a flask somewhere; perhaps he takes a sip or two every now and then, whether at work or not. And you don't blame him. Even with those laugh lines and that brown bear benevolence, you can tell he's seen things.

You wonder what he's like out there in the field. Brutal? Or just efficient?

He never asks about your tattoos, but he eyes them often. There's a certain admiring esteem in his stare. He's checking you out, scratches his chin, and rips his eyes off when they start to drift down. He forces his eyes to stay above your neckline no matter the cost. You mourn that you got rid of the septum a few years ago: you're pretty sure he would've liked that, too. After all, it's a piercing that screams 'warrior' the most. Break after break, you return to your desk, aroused and giddy and surrounded by the rich, masculine aroma of his cigar.

One night, he drives by when you're walking home after what was supposed to be one or two pints.

The car is a big, black pick-up, and when it slows down and starts to inch by your side, your first reaction is a silent curse of why the fuck don't you carry some pepper spray in your pocket.

"Hey, you ok?"

Your head rises from the asphalt the second you recognize that smooth, pleasant voice of a man you had compared every guy to at the pub that evening. The whole man is brimming with burnt sienna, he's hard alcohol with no ice…

You stop and turn, a little wobbly from the pint turned to two or three. Or four.

"Yeah. Had a little girl's night out."

The car rumbles softly, not two meters away, and the sound reminds you of his voice. A soft purr that can turn into a growl, even a roar if he wants to.

He looks like he's going fishing, even without the boonie hat. The dark hair is cut short, so you won't have anything to tug if he ever ends up between your legs. But you don't really mourn that fact, because he looks so damn good.

He looks you up and down, and you notice the briefest blob of his Adam's apple before he gives you another offer.

"Want me to give you a ride?"

Would love a ride.

Would fucking love to ride you.

"Sure. That's kind of you."

Your eyes must be sparkling like the fucking stars.

"No problem at all," he leans his elbow on the open window and waits while you round the car and get in. You try to tone down your drunken state, but your moves are a little too brash for a calm and collected coder lady this man has usually caught leaning against the wall of the workplace you two share.

"Did you have fun?"

He sounds like a dad picking up his girl from a school disco, and you purse your lips in slight distaste and amusement.

"Yeah. You know how it is when someone asks you for a pint."

He gives a short laugh and starts to drive. "That never ends well."

You smile and turn to look at him.

"Mm… This one kinda did."

You enjoy the brief look out the window, the sight of someone so formidable and robust and experienced trying to find his way out by feigning something caught his attention in the black, empty distance of a quiet city.

"Glad I could be of service," he brushes off your flirt like it's nothing more than a speckle of dust on his coat.

The rest of the ride is silent, too silent. He turns the music off in case it "bothers you," and it turns into an awkward, overly polite fight about whether to keep it on or not.

It's a minor shock to notice he was listening to some classical. Not 80's rock, not country, not even BBC. He was just soothing his nerves.

You can't put your finger on what makes you feel so sheepish around this man – usually, you put men on a leash with a few dry jokes and a hearty laugh or two. Now, your flirting is shy and does nothing: there's a wall built up, and from behind that wall, only a few stolen looks…

The pick-up is humming, the engine is running at idle next to your place far too soon, and it's time you get off the car – but you have vehemently decided you will knock down that fucking wall even if you have to drag him to your bed.

"You wanna come up and have a nightcap?"

Another look out the window as he raises his hand over his mouth, fiddles with his mustache, and avoids the rising heat between you two.

"Thanks, kid. But you need to sleep."

Your heart is pumping, and you feel like a harasser as you place your hand on his thigh.

He doesn't move, but you can hear the audible swallow this time. He doesn't move a single finger even when you slide your palm down that leg, then drag it over to the inner thigh, and start to drift back up slowly, slowly, to give him the time and space to stop you before you reach….

….the visible bulge between those legs, the absolutely gorgeous, ample bump pulling at those pants, something so delicious that you must fight tooth and nail not to race your hand up there and give it a fond grope.

His hand falls over yours just before you reach it.

"Kid. Let's leave it here and call it a night."

His voice is strained and tight, and he's still looking out the window. You don't move your hand away because he doesn't move it away. His warmth stays there, keeping you against him, and you feel like shit for thinking it's not a no… That it's a yes when he seems to hold your hand as a prisoner, wanting to feel your dainty little palm against him.

Your fingers curl slightly, a hopeful gesture to imagine how it would feel to curl and claw at his hips and that ass while he's fucking you.

"Listen. You're a nice girl. A very nice–"

You give a heavy, demonstrative sigh and finally draw your hand away.

"Come on Cap… You're seriously going to give me the "you're a nice girl" talk?"

Finally, he turns. His nostrils quiver as he tries to keep his breaths calm. Your lips part like it's a whole caress he just gave you – and his gaze drops to your mouth instantly. You start to see where the problem is.

You're too young.

You're forbidden.

"I offered you a nightcap," you tilt your head slightly. "You can come up or you can go home."

You wet your lips, give the bottom lip a tiny little bite, and offer him the last, inviting, soft smile. It must hold an equal amount of sorrow because you can't drown the bitter feeling of rejection, no matter how many drinks you've had that night. No matter how much he seems to want you, it doesn't change the fact that he's apparently decided to stay strong and keep his hands off the cookie jar.

You turn and get out of the car, lean on the door for the final fucking time...

"Didn't know I'd only get to suck your cigar... You're all smoke and no fire, Price."

The door flies closed with a louder slam than you originally meant.

Now that was a little bit passive-aggressive, you have to admit. But you're drunk, and he's being a pain in the ass, calling you a kid, looking at you like that, having a fucking hard-on and giving you nothing.

…But it does the trick.

You smile like an idiot when you walk to your place and hear the purr of the engine stop. Another car door opens, then closes, wide footsteps follow you…

A nightcap it is, then.

He looks even bigger when inside a place with walls and a roof. He stands inside your apartment tall and wide as if he's waiting to call attention. Those large hands are over his crotch, concealing the swell of erection you already saw in the car.

You know the tank top you wear reveals even more skin covered in tats as you throw your jacket away and go get him that drink. The glasses glide on your table, slide nearly to the floor, and the bottle of Jim Beam meets the counter with a devastating clank. You look at the excuse to get him into your place and sigh.

"You know what… Fuck this."

Offering cheap bourbon to someone like him seems a bit ridiculous. So you offer him something he might actually like. Something he actually came here for.

You walk to him and throw your hands around him – he stiffens from the middle but looks down at you with a heated glimmer in those eyes. You could've sworn they were charred brown, the same color as his cigar, but up close you see they're actually molten iron. Mercurial.

"You sure about this?" He asks softly.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He unclasps those hands from over his groin, and the warmest weight falls to rest on your waist, even steals a caress to your hip. You want to hurl yourself at him, press yourself against his crotch and grind until you bleed from just that tiny touch he finally gives you.

"You've had one too many, love."

Love…

Shit.

The warmth spreads from his eyes, from that hand, from the word that rolls out of his mouth like a beautiful puff of smoke. It unfurls inside your heart, swells inside your throat, plummets to your groin, and you switch the weight to your other leg to feel how that hand gains more weight as it gets pressed more firmly against you.

"Doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Your voice is nothing short of a purr. When have you ever purred like that to a man? You sound like a housecat, tame and adoring, waiting for a gourmet meal.

"You really want an old man?"

He still has that reserve in his eyes, decent and distant, but underneath, you sense a terrible heat, like the glow of a cigar lit in darkness, an adamant smolder that never dies out.

"You're not that old."

Your purr turns into a deprived meow. You dangle from his neck, and the smoke, the fire that surrounds him, blends into the gentle scent of a man, the musk of a mature beast. You know he's hairy under those clothes; he fucking has to be. The vision of how his cock must look, surrounded by untame, coarse fur, has tormented you night after night.

And now he's finally here. In your apartment.

You skate your hands over his chest while slowly dropping into a squat, then languidly kneeling in front of his crotch.

He doesn't stop you, not even when you open his belt and the zipper and crawl your fingers down the waistband of his underwear. You have to stifle a delighted gasp upon seeing how his cock springs free and stands proud in front of you in all its glory. And fuck yes he's hairy – the hairiest man you've ever had.

Cigars feel like tiny little sticks when you wrap one hand around him and lick the weeping slit like it's your favorite ice cream. The groan that follows is a husky eruption above you and gets stuck in his throat as you take him in your mouth.

"Fucking hell, kid…"

He's thick, broad, and the musk fills your nostrils, but what he just said makes you pull back and whisper on the bulbous tip–

"Don't call me a kid," you breathe on his cock, swirl your tongue around him, and his thighs bunch. "Old man."

You finally manage to push some buttons.

The back of his hand brushes your cheek, then slides over to your throat. He's gentle but firm as he forces a thumb under your chin, curls fingers around your neck as if you're a cat who's about to be force-fed some medicine that's only good for her.

"Is that how you wanna play it?"

His thumb brushes down the ridge of your throat. Tentative, promising.

"Perhaps," your lips quiver with anticipation as you smile; your voice is a pitched vibrato before it drops, just to give him a reason to put you in your place... "Old gum–"

The hand pulls up, the grip tightens just enough to guide you back to your feet and up to meet his face.

"Didn't know you asked me here to tame a brat."

Fuck…

You almost moan.

The hand doesn't choke you; it makes love to you. Claims you as his.

"Really…?" You sigh. Flash him a filthy, guiltless smile.

The fire surges forth and nearly buckles your knees. His eyes flash in rhythm with your grin, like a sudden flicker of a campfire in the middle of a dark, parched forest.

"This what you want? Hmm?"

The rumble reminds you of the engine of a Harley roaring to life. His throat is burned from the fire of his cigars, the hand on your throat is used to squeezing dead metal and pulling pins from frigid grenades. But even they can't stand a chance against his woodland fire and sycamore smoke. He could bring a cold, inanimate rock back to life with all that fire.

"Yes. I want it. John."

His name on your tongue is a cat's meow. It has the exact effect you hoped for.

"Let's get the brat tamed, then."

"Hah," you finally moan. "Promises, prom–"

The fingers around your throat pull you to his mouth with a python strength. His lips spread yours with soft devouring as he coats you in fire. The coarse beard smells of sweet tobacco – nothing like a pungent cigarette. It's like an old memory: safe and sturdy and strong. Male.

You moan in his mouth – god, what will it be like when he's inside you? – and he capes both arms around you and crushes you against him. Broad shoulders envelop you like a shroud of thick smoke, the cock gets trapped between you like a hot spear, and you mewl like a slut.

Your pussy clenches, just from his warm mouth, the rich velvet of his lips. He takes everything with that kiss, and you're weak in his arms as he bends and molds you against him just the way he wants, opens your mouth with his own and breathes you, samples you like those puffs of smoke he sucks from his cigar.

Your brain short-circuits, you barely notice how your top slides up as his hands go under it. It's dragged up, up, over your breasts and then over your head as he detaches just enough to rip that piece of clothing away.

You look at him like he's Christmas, then reach for your bra while he opens his pants more to get them down. Your jeans are accursedly tight, and he's breathless, too: the whole room is dark and filled with heavy breathing and rustle of clothes as you claw your socks off, slide your strings down and away, watch him get out of his shirt and throw it on the floor too, all propriety gone.

And then…

Jesusfuck–

He picks you up, lifts you from the ground like you're nothing but a leaf, and strides with you in his lap until your back meets a wall.

The barrel-like chest presses the air out of your lungs while your back travels up – you don't know if his arms or chest do the lifting, but you're being positioned for his cock to enter. Your hands try to grasp something solid before it's too late – his back and neck – your legs wrap around him, feet hooking over his ass as the thick of his tip pokes your soaked folds, and after a few seconds of probing, slides in.

"F–uck…" you gasp, sounding so needy that it could be a voiceline from a bad porno movie. His lips find the place between your ear and neck immediately.

"Be good for me now," he gruffs, dark and round like the sweetest bourbon, although you know he's the finest single malt in the world. "Be good…"

"Ah–John…"

I'll be good…

Just for you, I'll be so, so good.

He pants heavy on your neck, grunts as he starts to fuck you against that wall. You knew he might be intense, but apparently, you had no idea. The man is needy as fuck, and has concealed it up until this point.

You could cry, scream from joy from the thickness that spreads you, fills you with every fat glide of a thrust. The sex borders on rough but is so incredibly tender too, so needy it makes your heart collapse, compress into a taut knot in your chest. It's the softest rocking, the gentlest fucking as he retreats, then ruts into you again and again with sharp, rusty moans. You're in a slow but steady rodeo with this man, your breasts pressed against a solid chest covered with hair, and it tickles, even if his pecs threaten to crush your ribcage.

"You're one hell of a girl," he gruffs in your ear, beard grazing up and down your neck. "Taking me so– Fucking hell, look at you…"

His eyes are embers as they sweep over you: your abundant ink, the helpless, adoring look in your eyes, the little mouth that opens with a gasp, the trickle of sweat that forms between your breasts and meets the hair on his chest.

He doesn't have to look down to see how greedy your cunt is for him. He can feel it.

"This is what you wanted the whole time? Huh?"

He's all smoke. All fire.

"Yes…"

"Wanted me to take you against a fucking wall? Eh?"

"Yes…just, just take me," you moan and purr some more, giving him everything he wants. "Fuh–fuck me good…"

"Ahh shit..."

You know you're a drug to certain decent men. But to him, you're a forbidden fruit in all its aspects.

A calm, collected captain who enjoys wide respect, eyeing an edgy, younger woman from the tech department? That's not how this was supposed to go. Thirsting for someone who did what they wanted, looked just the way they wanted, walked this earth like a dark fairy – that's not his usual go, surely. He was supposed to settle down with a proper lady. If he were to settle down at all.

"I've dreamed of this," you whisper in his ear, lips moving just enough to deliver your secret to him.

"Yeah..? Me too," he gives your throat more love with a velvet growl. "Know I shouldn't, but–"

"Shh. Don't–don't…" You grip him tighter, taste the spruce and salt as you breathe his neck. "It's good. It's all good."

He rumbles in approval. Your skin is raw from his beard; even the coarse hair dusting his thighs feels too rough on your skin. And your skin is used to being needled, shot full of ink right inside the dermis. But this… This is branding.

You're silk in his rough embrace, and plundered with no remorse. You sigh and moan, hug him... And then he dares to stop, panting and throbbing inside you.

"Darlin'. Where's the bed?"

The soft question makes you panic. If you go to bed and let him push inside you while you're lying on your back, if you brave a look into those eyes while he takes you, you'll develop more than just a horrid lust for this man. If he collapses on top of you, spent and spoiled while you're at your most vulnerable, you'll tie a string from your heart to his, and you can't, you just can't allow that to happen.

Because he's untamed too. He's not a man who settles down, he's not up for domestication; he's a wandering fire.

"No–no bed," you pant on his muscles, the shoulder that keeps you safely pinned on the wall. "John…? Please."

He's breathing wild too, disguises his surprise well.

"Alright."

He sounds disappointed, and it's not because he doesn't have the strength to maul you against that wall. The rejection stings him too. It makes you want to offer a truce, a little something. When he rocks you again, you graze your fingers up the back of his neck, knowing he will feel ripples across his scalp from your caress.

"We can smoke a cigar after," you propose, not knowing why your voice still comes out as an airy whisper. "Together. I'll pour you that drink…"

His chest swells with a deep breath, he huffs fire on the hollow trench between your collarbones.

"Fuck, woman…"

It's dense syrup that surrounds you much like those shoulders and arms, that coarse hair, that bold male want.

"And after that I want you to…" You catch your breath and sound like a mouse with your next shy question. "Would you go down on me, John?"

It's like you're under a bear attack, but he stills; his head tilts a little to the side and meets your temple.

"You wouldn't tease a man like this," he says. A soft warning, brimstone coated in velour, but the core of it is despair. So much need, so much forbidden, distant want…

"Right? No more teasing."

He's still thinking that you're teasing him… That it's some kind of a joke that you want him.

"I'm serious... I want your mouth on me. I need your–"

"I'll put my mouth on you as soon as we're done here, love."

You have to bite your lips, suck them between your teeth to prevent another deprived moan from escaping.

"Want you to fuck me all night," you continue to whisper on his neck. You should shut the fuck up because it doesn't take a bed to tie that string from your heart to his. After all, they're right there, beating against each other through bone and skin and chest.

"Yeah? That's what you want?"

"Want you to… F-fuck me slow and good from behind and–"

You sniff. Whimper.

You should be ashamed: mewling for more when he's already buried inside you. What kind of a brat are you, wrapping your thighs around that narrow waist like you never want him to pull out?

And you're not crying.

It's just that the cock inside you is throbbing against your walls as if he's making a home there, his hands dig into your ass cheeks like you're his already, the breath upon your sweat and skin feels far too affectionate. When exactly did a raw wall-fuck turn into such an affectionate, gentle taste of love?

And it's not enough. You want to climb on top of him every morning, ride him slowly and watch him unravel as the sun climbs the sky and coats that fur in gold.

"Could you do that? Please… John, please," you whimper and whine, beg like you're tame already.

"I'll fuck you all night if that's what you want. Fill this pretty, tight cunt up every way you like."

It's coarse smoke. It caresses you until your legs start to shake. He adjusts his grip, drags the pull-outs like he drags those pulls from his tobacco. Keeps you nicely in place for him to drive back in–

"I'll fuck you 'till you cry, love. Yeah?"

He punctuates that promise with another good, fat thrust. You moan all tame now – a rippling stream, laughing and crying in his molten hold.

His cock fills you while your thighs quiver and tremble in his hands. Your pussy throbs; it sucks him already, the orgasm is seconds away, and your fingertips search for support but only slip over sweaty, hard muscle.

John. John.

"Fuh-…"

He spreads you a little. Those arms are pure iron as they mold you for him to plow. You know he can feel the waves, the way your cunt grips him with longer, deeper pulls as you start to sound downright pathetic.

"Just like that, just like… hah…"

"M-hm. Yeah," he bends the vowels, daubs them with smoke. "That's it. You're doing good. Doing so well my love."

He huffs between the thrusts that have turned into slow, intense love-making. He's making love to you – god, why does he have to be like this…

"Cum for me. Nice and pretty, yeah? Come on."

He encourages you with words, but you can't hear them anymore.

Heat coils in the pit of your core just before you burst with a heady scream.

The spasm is so sudden you almost hit your head on the wall. He's at your throat the minute it's exposed, and your scream turns into a weak wail when his tongue grazes your skin. It's blazing, and dips into the hollow between your collarbones like it's a shot glass full of scotch. Next thing you feel is fire, even some teeth on your neck.

And you thought Price might, just might be intense…

Your head drops as the blunt of the orgasm leaves you. Your feet unclasp, and next up would be some soft waves, but the man continues to fuck your shattered cunt and marshmallow soul with a good, intense pace. The words that pour out of your mouth are those of a brainless person.

"Ah–hah, God–"

"Where's that cheek now, mm..? Pretty little thing."

"John–h…"

The thrusts rub you against that wall like he wants to staple you there.

"So nice and good for me now, ain't ya? Cummin' on command…" An amused chuff right on your poor, chafed skin… "Begging for my mouth and cock."

You travel up and down in a limp heap, trying to hold on to him with weak limbs as he drives into you with a tight series of half-thrusts. Your legs hang loosely on the side, but he has no trouble carrying the full weight of you.

"Slow–slowly, Cap…"

"Ahh fuck–"

He swears on your ink, right on the trotting pulse on your neck. Through the vapor of man sweat and rich smoke and a whiff of cedar trees bending in the wind, you feel him tense and thicken.

"The fucking things you do to me…" he pants with a low growl, hushed but intense. Your pussy answers with a good, demanding pull.

"Fuck… fuck–!"

You're a limp doll between him and the wall when he comes. Pressed between a rock and a hard place, literally. His chest being the rock, an entire boulder that whips the oxygen from your lungs as he drives deep, his balls giving a few taut pulls against your ass as he empties himself into you with a satisfied, dry moan. A dark, ripe blossom, shooting straight to your core while you're sealed tight around him.

The world goes still after that; the only thing that moves is your breath and his, a refreshing hot breeze coursing through the stale air. The darkness of the room isn't half as snug as the safety of his arms.

Your fingers find his neck, the short-cut hair and the skin pounding with a rush of blood. He lets you go reluctantly, bends a little to set your feet back to the solid ground. He doesn't pull out, keeps huffing all over you even when you're returned back to the earth.

And you never want to come back. Your cunt still throbs around him and cries a tiny, thick stream down your thigh. His upper body still pins you against that wall, his breaths still mist your skin, caress the red burns of his beard.

He feels so good. Too good…

When he pulls out, he does so with intense care. He gives you some space to catch your breath, and you finally notice he has fucked your legs into splinters.

"I'm…" You break the hush of heavy breathing with a soft laugh. More viscous load pushes out of you with it. "I don't think I can stand."

"Yeah? Tried to take you to bed," he muses softly, sounding annoyingly content with his achievements.

"Gotta admit it was a good idea."

"As was the nightcap," he rasps, voice drenched in soft smoke.

"We'll get there eventually."

"I have no doubt about that."

You give him a soft, warm chuckle as you cast your eyes between the crest of his pecs. Rough, tight muscle meets your soft breasts with heaving breaths, and teases your nipples to taut little points. The wet hair on his chest looks good paired with your inked, smooth skin… You two look so goddamn fine together.

"I hope I didn't make you deaf with that scream."

He stands at his full height, but tilts his head down and slightly to the side as if you were a new, interesting species he's just found on his travels.

"Wouldn't complain, love," he says. More wet syrup, just for you. He weighs you with his stare, curious and appeased, and you feel shy. For fuck's sake, you still feel shy even though this man was inside you just a moment ago.

"The bed. Now be a good girl and tell me where it is."

"Down the…hallway."

A delicate little whisper, again.

It's laughable, how the veteran of Task Force 141 turns you into something so dainty and meek. Captain John Price takes you against a wall like you're nothing but a doll, makes you purr and beg, reassembles you into a weak-willed woman who gets carried to bed.

This is not how it was supposed to go...

He lifts you back in his lap while you continue to hold onto him like he's your prince Charming. A laugh spills on your lips when he tries to lay you gently on the bed and you manage to pull him down with you. You end up tumbling there in a sweaty, messy heap.

"Knew you were trouble," he's smiling too as he settles beside you. You curl and wrap yourself around him, your bodies mold and curve together like they're made for each other.

He's so solid, so warm, the kind of man you'd love to fall asleep on every night. No more cold sides of the pillow, no more tossing and turning and trying to get the code out of your head. Just… this chest, those ember eyes burning in the night. Some soft breathing, a roaring engine standing still, waiting for you, just for you…

"I hope this wasn't a one time only occasion," you test the waters.

"No." He shifts a little, disentangles from you slightly. "Unless you–"

"No."

You bend in his arms like a young willow, cut his doubts off with a kiss. It's passionate, and so sloppy it threatens to make the same sounds as your cunt and his cock a while ago.

The hand on your hip tows you closer, then steals its way down your leg. You hike your thigh up, perfectly willing. You're a sticky mess, but so is he: his rock-hard thigh meets your still soaked pussy like these two have always belonged together. And this man's full fire has escaped you until now. There are so many hidden, wild things in him too.

He would look so good on a Harley… He would look good on a motel bed after riding for days and days with you attached to him like an eloped dark bride. The nights would be smeared with hot sex and cinder and smoke, a dash of scotch on top, he could drink it from your lips. You would serve it to him from your mouth, round the taste a bit so that it wouldn't burn so much…

"Have you ever been to Alaska?"

The liquor is leaving you, but you don't feel any more sober. The lava in your veins has only been replaced by another kind of fire.

"No."

"Would you like to go?"

"What'ya mean," he murmurs on your tongue, and you know he's hard again just from the thick lust coating his voice. "What kind of question is that?"

"I was just thinking."

"What were you thinkin', kid..?"

"Don't… call me that," you laugh. In truth, you're growing quite fond of it. It reminds you of old movies. "Here's looking at you, kid" and all that.

His laugh is a charred roll in his chest. To him, you're a brat – an unruly kitten – no matter what you say.

"Kid. Why Alaska?"

He's curious. Borderline hooked. You steal a peek into those vulcan eyes.

"You'd look good in Alaska. Old man."

"Really," he rumbles a soft purr against your heart.

Another soft kiss follows. Affectionate… He plays time, but he's also a probing, scanning. You bloom in his embrace, unfurl on his lips like he just wrenched you wide. He could haul you to the cabin right now and you would only cook him dinner.

It's too late, even if you try to shift after such a kiss. Escape to press your cheek against that place between his pecs, the spot where the hair is darkest and thickest. You want to lick that valley where his heart meets his musk. That scent must be born from a good, stout heart.

"Would you take me with you…? If you ever decide to go."

It's a fragile question. A baring of the heart. It holds so much more than an inquiry about whether he would whisk you away on a secret leave. It's strings, pulling from your heart to his, taking root.

"Sure. But you're quite a handful, love."

"Is that so…?"

You crawl over him as gracefully as you can. He allows you to straddle him, and of course he does. You're no threat; you're only a one woman show. The only thing he's probably missing right now is a glass of scotch and a thick roll of tobacco.

He takes in the view with hunger: not satiated by that pent-up fuck, just like you're not...

But then his hands come to rest on your thighs to check if they're still shaking. The touch bleeds possessiveness: it's a thoroughly absent-minded, instinctual attempt to reach for you. It tells you you're exactly where you belong.

"You seem like the kind of woman who's not for the faint of heart," he says like you didn't just mewl in his arms like the tamest fucking housecat.

And perhaps that's what intrigues him. Contrasts. And even more than that, the odd place where black fuses into white, the gray area where everything is possible. The split-second moment when the skin accepts the ink and traps it in.

Everyone always says you get buried with your tattoos. That you should think twice before staining your skin with such permanent hookups.

But the thing is, you get addicted to it. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff before a bungee jump. You know you'll never be the same person after you jump, and you know you can't leave that cliff without jumping. It's a stalemate until you clear your mind of doubt and just plunge.

And you don't want to leave this earth without getting stained and sweaty, without dipping your soul into the full experience. You're supposed to get a little dirty. This is Earth, after all.

Your fingers disappear somewhere in his slick fur. Sunrise is hours away, but his eyes spark aflame. They're always, always smoldering like the butt of his cigar. He's a man who causes wildfires at the end of the world – he's a reckoning, a flicker in the dark forest, roaring into a bonfire as soon as the wind passes through the trees.

And you've always loved fire. Wild, and free. The only thing that competes with such freedom is a wide, wild stream.

"But you can handle me. Right?" Your fingers curl softly around the hair surrounding his navel. "Tame me and everything?"

It's an offering that causes even fire to tilt its head in curiosity. In the end, you're not sure who tamed who.

"Someone has to," he grabs your hips with rich promise.

You'll pour him that drink. Light him a cigar after his mouth is full of your taste, see how well it pairs with fire and smoke. You'll toast to the Harley, the crazy motel…

And Alaska.

#john price x you #john price x reader #john price x female reader #captain price x you #price x reader #captain price smut #captain price x reader #john price smut #john price #mw2 smut #captain john price #john price fanfic #cod fanfic

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multifariousqueer · 1 year ago

Note

hear me out— crazy and openly flirty! reader with her crazy and jealous bf Miles 42. Expand on that however you want

Okay so I had a thought...

A/n: Keep requesting fics as always. I’m not gonna be as active but I’ll post as often as I can bc I’m going on vacation for a week but idk, ill prolly still post a ton 💀

Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied murd3r, you being a flirt and Miles being crazy asf, lmk if I forgot some

It seemed like a pretty normal day, you were designing some stuff for one of your classes and y/f/n(your crush/friend) decided to tag along. Y’all weren’t that close but everyone could tell there were sparks between you two, even more so than your boyfriend Miles.

Everyone(even y/f/n) knew that you two were dating and were happy but they still interfered. People claimed you were a slut and you were insane and you were forcing Miles into a relationship even though, people close to y’all claimed it to be the opposite. You never really broke the habit of flirting for fun and this pissed Miles off to no end:

“Y/n he thinks you’re single” Miles would say

“Well I’m not. I’m just naturally flirty” you would defend

“You’re also beautiful mami and people want to take advantage of that” Miles said

“Well thats why I have you” you would say, standing on your tiptoes to kiss Miles

“Mmm he better watch himself, let’s just say that next time he pulls that shit, I might not be so nice"

Miles was a wonderful boyfriend but your exact opposite. Where you were bright, happy, always had a smile on your face and friendly; Miles was dark, nonchalant, cold and walked around like his opps were around the corner, about to kill you. You two shared a few things though, you were both crazy and possessive of each other. If Miles spoke to a girl you didn’t know, you would come over and kiss him, touch him, and flirt with him; making him flustered

“Miles, te necisito, papi” you would flirt while tilting your head and rubbing his lower back

“Oh! Who is this?” the girl asked, with a hint of venom in her voice

“I’m Y/n but you can call me his wife” you said, putting out your hand for her to shake

“Girl chill, we’re 16. He ain’t marrying you anytime soon” the girl clapped back

“You don’t know me.” Miles would say coldly to the girl

“And you won’t get the chance to” you would finish and smile at the girl

The girl walked away in a huff after that and Miles smirked at you:

“You jealous ma?"

“No. I just don’t want people pushing up on my man” you said

He chuckled and said:

“Don’t worry, Mami; I’m not feeling no one else but you."

After this little escapade; You and Miles had the mutual agreement to stop flirting with other people and you held up your end of that well until y/f/n came along and kept pressuring you to go out with them and give them a chance:

“You know, if you were with me, I’d never let you out of my sight. Anywhere you go, I’d go. Class? I’ll carry your books. Home? I’m right behind you. The Bathroom? I’m-“ they started

“You’re what? No. Go ahead and continue that sentence, I dare you” Miles said suddenly

“MILES!!! Thank God you’re here, I was so scared” you said, clapping your hands together like a prayer had been answered(because it had).

“Dude, chill; I was just joking. Y/n knows I’d never overstep like that, bro” y/f/n said, holding out a hand in an attempt to dap your boyfriend up

“I’m not your ‘bro’ homeboy, watch how you step, it might be your last if you keep fucking with my girl like that” Miles said taking a step towards the person. They were almost equal height but Miles was slightly taller(6’2 yes ik its not canon and idc)

It seemed like they would fight right there in the hallway with the way Miles was staring at y/f/n and while y/f/n was a bit intimidated, they weren’t backing down. They were another one of your victims of over-flirtation but unlike the others, they were persistent and tried the friend angle in order to get to you but they didn’t sound on your boyfriend being jealous and possessive. Eventually, they walked away and Miles pulled you aside:

“Don’t fucking talk to them again, you understand ma?” Miles said

“I understand. I am so so sorry, they just came up to me and cornered me.” you explained with watery eyes

“It’s fine, ma. Don’t let it happen again, tu entiendes?” he said, grabbing your chin to look him in the eye

“Si, papi. Te amo” you said

The next few days were quiet. Miles stayed closer than usual to you, y/f/n stayed away but they stared at you constantly and smirked at you. It was one faithful Saturday that would change all of that in a flash.

Miles was away doing Prowler stuff and you were designing possible suit, mask and gauntlet combos when you heard a knock on your dorm. You opened the door and were shocked to see y/f/n:

“Hey, y/n. Can we talk?"

“Uhm I should wait for Miles. He’ll be back shortly” you lied. Prowler shit took four hours min because Miles would carry stuff out in bulk so he could spend more time with you

“We can talk without him right?” Y/f/n said, pushing into your dorm. Your dorm mate was away for the weekend, visiting her parents in nantucket.

“Oh. I guess” You said

“so what you drawing?’ they asked

“stuff” you giggled

“Fuck I love your laugh.” they smiled

“um thanks” you replied

“a pretty laugh for a pretty girl” they said, grabbing your chin and staring at your lips

“thanks. You caught me at a bad time, I’m just about to go shower” you said pushing their hand away

“Oh can I join, haha?” they joked

“hahaha.” you said, silently praying Miles was outside your window witnessing all of this and waiting to strike

“You know, I’ve had a huge crush on you since you first came here? You were genuinely sweet and kind and pretty. Miles doesn’t know how lucky he is to have someone like you” They confessed, closing the gap between y’all

“Yeah but I can tell he appreciates me. He never makes me feel uncomfortable” you said with a hint of venom

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” they asked, approaching your lips

“Yeah, very” you said trying to back away. At this point, you were praying for a miracle when all of a sudden, you hear a slashing noise and see blood on your floor

“I told you to stay away from her. I gave you a warning, this is on you homeboy”

“Who are you?” they spluttered out.

A mask opened up and suddenly he appeared

“I’m Miles Morales, but you You can call me the Prowler. Right, Amor?” Miles looked at you

“Right, baby. You said, kissing your man as the person in front of you, fades away.

#mcu fanfiction #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales headcannons #miles morales #miles x reader #across the spiderverse #spiderman #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse fanart #across the spiderverse spoilers #spiderman into the spiderverse #into the spider verse #spiderverse #earth 42 #earth42!miles #earth42!miles smut #prowler!miles #foryou

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kitten4sannie · 1 year ago

Note

*slams door open for the seance* I am going to throw my two favorite sans together - demon cat boy. Imagine San as a nekomata, a demon cat with two tails, who’s been sneaking around humanity for a good century or two. He’s had his tricks and pranks with humans, always wandering, never staying in one place too long.

Until he meets you.

There’s just something about you draws him to you, and before he knows it he’s made your home his home. If you’re suspicious of the fact he has two tails, it doesn’t show much, just that you make sure to pet each tail with equal amount of love.

San loves the fact you praise him and spoil him, and he takes full advantage of your affection. He’s a cuddle whore, always in your lap kneading away in happiness with loud purrs.

But then he hears you one night, in your room, door closed to keep him out. He knows you’re getting off in your room, writhing on your bed, trying to imitate the satisfaction that only a lover could give you. And oh the sounds you make. So beautiful. And he can’t help but imagine what kind of sounds you’d make beneath him as he’d ruin you over and over again through the entire night.

San was always good at having patience, but now? With him palming his cock, tail twitching, as he listens to you through the door? His patience has worn thin, especially since it’s been quite a while since he’s slept with another being. And besides, it was only considerate of him to return the love you gave to him, right?

(Anyway just a thought I thought you’d might enjoy. Congrats on your 3K milestone! 🤭)

roo !!!! OH MY GODDDDD. i’ve told you before and i tell you again: you are a geniusss for this idea like you’re out here playing 4D chess while everyone’s still trying to figure out checkers sksk like holy shit nekomata san ….. demon !! cat boy !! sannie !!! me and the spirits are all staring at each other in disbelief rn hdjshd anyways i hope you enjoy :3 <333

⛧ seance smutfest ⛧

w.c: 2.7k

warnings: dom! san (he’s a little meanie in this), sub! fem reader (has a few tricks up her sleeve <3), san has cat hybrid/demon characteristics, he also has two cocks btw *cough*, pet names, praise, teasing, some outright disgusting romantic behavior (and a few L bombs??? *gasp* lesbians <3 no i’m jk sksjh i wish 😔), like one cat pun okayyy, kissing, possessiveness, olfactophilia, brief almost mutual masturbation, oral (receiving), squirting, double penetration in one hole (i mean…i had to yk?), creampie, cum kink idk

Masterlist

Just like every other night, you sat in your living room watching a new series on some overpriced streaming service with your dear companion curled up with his head resting on your lap, enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence. You found yourself moving your hands through his obscenely soft jet black hair for what seemed like hours, giving the purring demon’s shifting ears and dual tails the occasional loving stroke.

You enjoyed physical touch as much as the next person, but San was a different breed. He enjoyed it so much, he couldn’t keep himself from reciprocating in order to show his immeasurable appreciation and desire for you. That explained the deep, reverberating purrs that were coming from his chest, the coy little look he was giving you past his long eyelashes from below, his pink lips parted like he was waiting for you to say or do something. What, you didn’t know. Kiss him, maybe. Or tease him, perhaps. San wasn’t even quite sure what he wanted himself, but what he was sure of, was that he wanted to keep massaging your soft, bare thighs, especially since he finally managed to wiggle his way up underneath your sleep shorts.

Once the show lost its grip on your mind, you were suddenly distinctly aware of the way San was kneading into your upper thighs, his fingers getting dangerously close to your bare cunt. Was he just an adorable demon kitty getting lost in the moment or was he being naughty? Regardless, you began to get worked up over it.

When San slowly closed his eyes again from how warm and relaxed his body felt, you subtly squeezed around the base of one of his tails for only a moment, encouraging a light, throaty moan to leave San’s mouth. You smiled innocently down at him, despite the prolonged throb you felt in your core. “Are you feeling good, San?” you asked sweetly, about to do it again when the demon’s tail curled around your wrist, the other one gently grazing your chest.

“T-too good, mortal,” San mumbled, his cheeks flushing with color, his dual-colored eyes finding solace in your equally flustered disposition. “Y’know how sensitive my tails are.”

“How does it make your body feel?” You bit your bottom lip, running your fingers over the tail that began to drift down your chest, familiar with the pheromones he could release at any moment, wanting them to envelop you.

“Warm,” he replied simply, staring you down quite intensely, a small, pleased smile on his face, his fangs just barely visible past his curled lips. He knew what you were doing and what you clearly wanted, but he would wait to confront you for now, instead releasing pheromones that made the both of you develop an instant body and head high, like you were experiencing the effects of a body-altering fever.

“I…think I’m going to lay down for a bit, Sannie. I’m feeling a little overheated all of a sudden,” you sighed, gently pushing San off of you and standing up, unconsciously adjusting the crotch of your shorts, knowing internally how wet you were already.

San knew too, of course. He didn’t even have to see it for his own eyes. He could smell it. Your dripping arousal, just asking to be lapped up.

Shifting from one foot to the other, you pressed your thighs together, giving him a weak smile, the throbbing you felt almost becoming almost impossible to ignore any longer. “Why don’t you watch that one baking show with all the kitties that you like…to, um, keep yourself busy?”

San sat up from his relaxed position on the couch, letting out an inconvenienced meow. He was already so hard, mostly due to laying his head on your thighs. Your soft, soft thighs. He pressed his hands into the cushion below him, instinctively kneading it. “Kat’s Kitchen?” he asked, his head tilting to the side.

“Yes, watch that, okay?” You swallowed, clearing your throat. Even though it was perfectly normal to get aroused over such a thing, this time around, you were absolutely drenched, so you couldn’t help but feel like a pervert, unsure if San was just being his unsuspecting, cute hybrid self or if he was purposely trying to initiate something with you.

San watched you walk away with interest, momentarily deciding to turn on the show he loved so much. He sat there for a while, satisfied with the cute cats zooming around and playing together on screen while their owner put a cake in the oven and instructed the viewers on how long it should bake. A sudden overwhelmingly sweet aroma drifted into his nose, causing it to twitch and his pupils to grow to the size of marbles.

“Y/N…” He climbed off of the couch and headed towards the source of the scent, which just so happened to be your bedroom. Hearing soft sounds of pleasure slipping out past the cracked door, San pushed his face into it, causing it to open a bit more and allowing him to see you in all your glory — fully naked and covered in a light sheen of sweat, your legs fully spread open with a vibrator pressed directly into your swollen clit, while earnestly finger-fucking your squelching cunt.

“T-typical lust-driven mortal…” he stuttered to himself, unaware of how red his cheeks were, or how hard he was breathing, hardly noticing that he was already grinding himself against the doorframe, more and more beads of pre-cum staining the front of his sweatpants the longer he watched you pleasure yourself.

“Wanna cum…” Huffing and blowing a bit of hair out of the way, you slid the vibrator into your aching cunt, working your clit with two digits.

“Fuck, Y/N…” San groaned and gripped the doorframe tightly, routinely dropping his hips and desperately thrusting upwards into the sleek wood, wishing he was inside you instead.

“San…fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned out, hastily dropping one of your legs down against the bed, pushing the toy further in, your fingers starting to cramp. “Fuck me, please, fuck me harder…”

The demon’s fluffy ears rotated individually like satellite dishes that were on two opposite frequencies, his hips slowly ceasing their movement. That was basically an invite, right? And if you wanted him so bad, then he might as well give you a reason to moan his name again.

You didn’t even notice San’s presence until he was on the bed and in between your legs, his warm hands massaging into your thighs and his mouth near your pussy, turning red at the sight of his clear desire. His friendly, always curious look was replaced with an intense, unwavering gaze, his mismatched eyes sharp and focused solely on yours.

“Y/N, I heard you calling for me…” He squeezed your thighs, pressing his cheek to the inside of one of them, nuzzling it lovingly. “Will you let me show you how good it feels to be loved by me?”

Blushing, you gave him a sheepish smile, eventually reaching down to slip your fingers into his sleek black hair. “Show me, San.”

“Show me, Y/N,” San said in a soft, muffled voice, his glistening lips and tongue on your clit, his fingers locked in an aggressive ‘come hither’ motion inside your pulsing hole. “Let me see the way you fall apart for me.”

“Sannie, it’s coming out, oh my god, I’m, fuck–” you cried out, tossing your head back, your body twitching and shuddering as you catapulted head-first into your orgasm, coating San’s tongue and fingers with your squirt.

“Mmm, that’s my good girl.” San took a deep inhale of your wet heat, his nose grazing over your extremely sensitive clit, rubbing your wetness around with his fingers, finding your small whimpers satisfying enough for him to begin purring. “Fuck, you smell and taste so good, baby, I can’t get enough.” He began to lap at your clit with his rough tongue, his reverberating purrs sending wave after wave of pleasure throughout your body.

“S-sannie, no more tongue,” you whined, lightly tugging on his hair, only encouraging him to lick at your cunt even faster than before, his nose routinely grinding into your clit. This sent you over the edge, your cunt clenching around nothing now that his fingers were rubbing circles in your thighs. “Pleaseee, I need you, I need you so bad.”

“What do you need from me, baby?” he questioned with a brow raised, licking up the cum that had leaked out of you and swallowing it down, making you jolt. “Say it.”

“Your cock, I need it,” you sighed out, your mind clouded with immeasurable desire for the feline-like demon.

“Both of them?” he teased, his head quirking to the side, his eyes upturned with clear satisfaction. Still in between your legs, he slowly sat up, lowering his boxers just enough to let his thin, but long dual cocks slip out and slap against one another. He smiled at you, flashing his tiny cat fangs at you, about to grow a third cock just from the way you were looking at them. “You’ve been so wet and needy for me all night, baby. I bet you can take them, can’t you?”

“Yeah, I can, so please fuck me, Sannie,” you desperately agreed, your mouth watering at the sight of his throbbing, veiny pink cocks just asking to be shoved deep inside you.

“Good girl. Now, open up for me, sweetheart.” San guided his cocks to your entrance, smiling at the sight of you obediently holding your thighs open for him. He pursed his lips together to let some spit drip down onto his lengths, lubing them up with his hands, before he began to slowly push into you. “That’s it…How’s that, baby?”

“K-keep going,” you breathed out, your eyes zoned in on where your bodies met, San’s cocks slipping further and further into your heat, ready to cum just from the pleasurable stretch you began to feel.

“Look at you, taking all of me like this,” San chimed breathlessly as he bottomed out, his cocks twitching inside you, his hands rubbing your hips affectionately.

San was definitely in your guts. You wanted him to mix them all up like he had already done with your emotions. “I’m so full, Sannie. It’s so good.”

San smiled sweetly, beaming with pride. He began to knead your lower abdomen, feeling the outline of himself inside you underneath his fingertips. “Good girls like you deserve to be spoiled. I’m going to move now, okay, sweetheart?”

“Okay, Sannie,” you answered softly, reaching up to caress his cheeks, slowly guiding his lips down onto yours. You looked into each other’s wide eyes for a second before your irises disappeared under your equally heavy eyelids, breathing yourselves out and taking one another in instead, melting together in a mess of carnal adoration and idyllic purity.

And, just like that, he was fucking into you like a well-oiled machine, quick and consistent, making sure to go balls deep so you wouldn’t have to go one single second without both of his cocks rubbing deliciously against your inner walls, effectively lighting your insides ablaze. Groaning into your open mouth, he broke the kiss to express, almost drunkenly, “Fuck, your pussy’s so tight, baby, fits me like a glove. Like you were made for me, huh?”

“Made just for you,” you replied against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to them, only for him to press his mouth firmly back onto yours. You moaned onto his gliding sandpaper tongue when he grabbed the underside of your thighs and folded you in half, sinking deeper into your cunt, reaching places you never thought existed.

Besides the repetitive gasps and whines San was forcing out of you with every snap of his hips, the distinct sound of your wetness could be heard squelching in between your joined sweaty bodies. San inevitably broke the messy kiss to whisper, “Hear that?”

“Yeah, I can hear it,” you squeaked out, barely able to focus on the sound of your arousal over the sensation of being stuffed with two throbbing cocks at once, your core already strung so tightly it could snap at any second and propel you into an abyss of pleasure.

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N, so fucking wet.” San gripped your thighs, pulling out in preparation for a deep thrust, one of his cocks accidentally slipping out all the way, allowing the other to grind along your cunt and across your clit. “Oh, fuck, I can barely stay inside, baby. It feels so hot, oh god, I might cum.”

“Cum for me, Sannie.” You reached down and stroked his pulsing cock, causing San to toss his head back in ecstasy, your fingers slipping against his reddened, slick cockhead when ropes of hot cum shot out of it, coating your pelvis and dripping down onto your cunt. “Silly kitty, that was supposed to go in me.”

Without hesitation, San pulled out completely and ran his fingers through the puddles of cum he left behind on your skin, eagerly slipping them into your hole and fucking the still warm liquid inside you, landing a critical hit on you with one sudden, filthy move. “There we go,” he beamed snarkily, holding his cocks and slowly pushing his cockheads back into your stretched cunt, but stopping halfway. “Are my cocks supposed to go back in you too, pretty girl? Or are you tuckered out?”

“No, I want it, feels so good, Sannie. I love the way you make me feel.” You ran your hands down San’s back, feeling his muscles tense up against your fingertips as he pushed himself all the way back inside and got back to work, pushing his cum deeper into you, his tails occasionally brushing against your skin like a paintbrush. “Don’t stop, okay?”

“Oh, baby,” he cooed into your ear, looking you in the eye. “I’m not going to stop until you fall apart for me. Remember that? Or is my princess feeling a bit forgetful right now?” He sighed against your fragrant, warm skin, slowly lowering himself to your neck to lick, suck, and lightly bite it, marking what was his.

“Don’t be such a tease, Sannie,” you pouted, taking ahold of his tails near the base, stroking them in an outwards direction, hearing what were going to be words come out as groans instead — ones that grew softer and more drawn out, turning into pleasured moans the more you played with with his wavering tails. “Were you going to say something, Sannie? Who’s–nngh–the forgetful one now, huh?”

San continued to moan and gasp for air, his once intentional thrusts growing sloppier and more desperate by the second, drool starting to drip down past his glistening lips. Feeling your fingers tighten around the base of his tails, San clutched your thighs tightly, his eyebrows screwing together. “W-wait, if you do that, I’m–”

“Aww, what’s wrong, Sannie? Cat got your tongue?” you giggled, squeezing his tails and rubbing them together like you would do with his cocks, about to tease him further when something hot and thick began to pour deep inside you and coat your inner walls with white, your breath getting caught in your throat. “Oh, San, oh my god, it’s so–”

“Cumming, I’m cumming for you, Y/N,” he choked out in between grunts, lowering himself down further to press kiss after kiss onto your swollen lips, groaning into your mouth form the way you hooked your legs around his slim waist, milking him of all his love with your clenching, throbbing cunt. “Fuck, I love you…love this…love you…”

“Love you too,” you whispered against his moving lips, your overheated body shuddering against his as you both rode out your highs, finding yourself unable to swallow the lump that had formed inside your dry throat, not choosing to swallow your following words. “Please, don't stop, Sannie. Love me again.”

San pulled back just enough to look down at your flushed, pretty face through his wet strands of hair, his fingers resting against your jaw. “I wasn’t planning on it, Y/N.” With his ears twitching slightly, San’s pink lips curled up just enough to let his fangs slip out, his cheeks dusted with pink. “I’ll love you until it’s pouring out of you. Until you’re so full of me, of my love, that you won’t need anyone else except for me. Does that sound good?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

#ask #for roo 🌻#⛧ seance smutfest ⛧#scheduled post #ateez #choi san #ateez smut #san smut #ateez san #ateez fanfic #san x reader #kpop smut #ateez imagines #ateez hard asks #ateez hard thoughts

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saffyspirals · 2 years ago

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EYYY!! I recently found you in this app and I just gonna say your content is pretty great! Is it okay if I put on a request? Like what would the blue lock characters call their S/o? ;) any characters is fine to me but I hope Nagi and Kurona will be included hehe- Good work btw!

❥ fandom: blue lock

❥ includes: nagi, kaiser, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, shidou, kurona, hiori & reo

❥ notes: hi!! i really loved writing this request, so thanks for sending it in! i thought really hard about what kurona would call his s/o (literally took days), and fell in love w/ his character in the process :)

❥ warning(s): hmm…kurona might be ooc IDK but i like this kurona!

you are nagi’s little angel. he low-key started calling you that as a joke (he used to find couple nicknames a little cringe), but eventually, he grows to love your reactions to the name. you smile at him, a lot, and it gets him out of trouble 90% of the time. “come back to bed, angel… ‘m asking nicely, aren’t i?”

kaiser switches it up like no man’s business. he’d been calling you by different pet names since before you got together so, you’re pretty used to it. i’d say he rotates between babe/baby, love and princess. honey bunches and names of a similar strange nature are saved for when he feels like teasing you. mein kaiserin (my empress in his native tongue) is only used on special, romantic occasions. like, when he tells you he loves you for the first time. or when he’s trying to get his family to understand just how serious he is about you. <3

bachira switches between love and sugar. sugar-plum when he wants to embarrass you. bachira is definitely one to tell you that he loves you quite a lot, he just doesn’t want you to forget, i suppose! giving you ‘love’ as a nickname is a way of reminding you of the fact rather than declaring how he feels 24/7. sugar is just another name he likes. it sounds good coming from him, and you usually get a kiss after he uses it, which is of course a bonus. “eh? you’re asking me how i think you look today? you look perfect, sugar! always do.”

chigiri refers to you as his darling. the nickname is beautiful, and elegant, just like he is. it’s easy to get flustered, having him call you that. chigiri likes the fact that he’s able to bring about such an adorable reaction.

kunigami doesn’t call you by this nickname often. actually, he uses your first name most of the time, mostly out of habit (i’m thinking friends-since-forever turned lovers), partly because he feels a little embarrassed giving you a nickname and using it in front of others. BUT ANYWAY, kunigami refers to you as pretty. he’d first called you it by accident, but since you seemed elated by it, decided he’d continue to use it on occasion. “tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, pretty.”

SHIDOU CALLS YOU SWEET GIRL. (🫠🫶) + similar variations like, sweetie or sweetheart, or sweet cheeks. snookums is reserved for when he’s about to tell you he’s done something that will probably annoy you. reason for the nickname? well, you’re sweet! you’ve got a good heart, and won’t swing for people if they say/do anything you don’t like. “are you gonna kiss me goodbye, sweet cheeks? or am i gonna have to chase ya?”

kurona primarily calls you pudding. his reason for it? “i like pudding, and i like you.” i feel like he’s kind of a private person, and only opens up when he feels totally comfortable with someone so, it’s only used when it’s just the two of you around. HOWEVER. private as he is, i think kurona’s got this other side to him. he likes to tease you, just a little. say for example, you’re giving him the silent treatment. he’ll still try and talk to you, but will eventually get tired of not getting any attention. and then, “hey, y/n? can you pass me some napkins?” “…” “…ah, right. you love being called pookie bear, don’t you. POOKIE BEAR, WILL YOU PASS ME SOME NAPKINS?” he’ll pull this kind of stunt in front of your mutual friends when you’re having breakfast together (or something of a similar scenario!). it’s embarrassing, but it gets you to talk at least. he likes having you address him, even if it’s to tell him to, “stop embarrassing me, idiot!”

hiori calls you pumpkin. a little on the cheesy side, but i think it suits him! he isn't embarrassed about referring to you by the name in public either. it shows anyone who might be questioning your relationship that you're definitely together. if it embarrasses you, he'll do his best to tone it down. no promises that he'll never say it though, hiori simply can't help it!

reo rotates between a lot of sweet sounding nicknames. precious, my love, honey. i don't think he does this on purpose, but reo loves using 'my' before a lot of nicknames too. it's just an unconscious reminder that you're all his, and honestly, he's all yours. reo would be all in for any relationship he pursues, and nicknames come with the territory. bonus: he'd be absolutely over the moon if you gave him a cute nickname too. sure, he'd be a little embarrassed if his friends teased him about it, but his heart would swell with pride. being known as the 'sickening, lovey-dovey' couple isn't a bad thing, you know!! "My love, remind me what you wanted me to get you at the store later?"

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plusvanity · 23 days ago

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idk if u've spoken abt this, but one of the things that annoy me the most is that he says "euronymous was playing this character, acting tough, but in reality he was a wimp" then he says "i killed him because i was afraid for my life" like which one is it? was he a wimp, or was he actually dangerous?

Everyone in the early Black Metal scene was playing a character, Øystein included. This is the very reason why I'm not surprised at all that Varg wanted to be a part of their group because narcissists love role-playing. They role-play all the time because they don't have a sense of self, so they create this false ego (character) in their heads that they display to the world. This is just what Vikernes did and still does today. The part in which he calls out Øystein for playing 'Euronymous' is straight-up hypocrisy, but this is self implied knowledge.

Now, I don't believe Øystein was a dangerous individual. He was competitive, had a bit of an ego, and he was assertive, but he wasn't violent. He may have talked bad about Varg behind his back, but it was mutual. They both exaggerated to seem cooler and tougher for their peers.

Some might argue that 'well, he went to burn a church', yes, he did, but it was peer pressure. He went with other two. He didn't go on his own and meticulously did all the work, came back the next day and bragged about it. This is the difference between peer pressure and real antisocial (dangerous) behavior.

There are many reasons why Varg still insists to this day that Øystein was dangerous even if he most probably wasn't.

First of all, it is quite difficult to attack a self-defense argument in court because it permits a 'reasonable' force to be used when two fight for their lives.

Many criminals use the self-defense strategy even if it's painfully obvious that they attacked first because it buys them time. Time in which they can come up with more reasons why they shouldn't be persecuted as harshly as they should, time in which they aren't in prison yet.

Even in Varg's case, the court struggled to find a reason why he did what he did, and their conclusion was 'a struggle for power'. His self-defense strategy was nullified in the process because they court found him guilty for planned murder (he drove 5-6 hours to Oslo, had a knife, etc, etc). His lawyer also must've failed to justify the three elements of self-defense: Imminent Threat (Varg was in no imminent threat, he provoked the situation by coming to Oslo), Reasonable Fear of Harm (when someone pulls out a knife, it's over), Proportionate Response (Øystein had no equalizer, so to speak).

One thing that people seem to forget, or aren't aware enough is that Varg never ever denied that he killed Øystein.

Now that he's out, he still maintains the narrative that he acted on self-defense because it would be absolutely dumb to just admit that you intentionally murdered someone when you are still watched and still taken into consideration by police with what you publicly say. Everything that you say can be used against you, don't believe that Varg is free to own his murder, I mean he is theoretically, but it's idiotic to do so when you know you can open up a can of worms again.

Besides legal sanctions and consequences, Varg calls Øystein dangerous to play the victim. This is for his own selfish, egocentric narrative in which he expects, not even mercy, but admiration because he 'stood up for himself' and all that jazz.

He will always contratict himself based on how he feels that day. One day, he will say Øystein was truly dangerous. The next day, he will say Øystein was a wimp. He detests Øystein, that's clear. And he will use anything he can to deteriorate his adversary's image both online and in his head.

You can't believe Varg with anything he says, believe Øystein based on what he did and how he was like when he was alive. The guy wasn't a threat, he was a victim.

#ask response #varg vikernes #øystein aarseth

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hiraethwrote · 16 days ago

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VENT SESSION LETS GOOOO — you’re allowed to scroll if you don’t care mwah

i spend an ungodly amount of hours on this app, and i look at you as my friends so just want to let you guys know

i am also a very nosy person myself, so seems only fair i share my own situation. but if you don’t care about all this, you can just keep scrolling. i honestly don’t mind lol

anyways… a few weeks ago, i told you guys i was going through something that was kinda heavy — yeah my bf and i were going through some stuff and started seeing someone professionally… we broke up

there was an understanding that this might be outcome when we first opened up this can of worms, and there turned out to be a lot of underlying issues that both of us had refused to acknowledge

it was definitely a mutual decision. though it’s a hard pill to swallow, we came to the conclusion it was the best for the both of us

we want such vastly different things in life, things neither of us should compromise on. to me, life came at me a lot faster than i anticipated and felt like there were things left unexplored — and neither of us want to hold the other person back from what we want

however, this is a person i have been with for six years, a quarter of my life. there’s obviously a lot of shared history which is hard to let go of. it’s also so incredibly painful when we’re not splitting due to lack of affection and love for the other person, but because our desires and wants in life just don’t align

he is still my best friend, and because of how our life situation is, we will continue living together as we have been doing for the past three years (he only lives here half the time due to work), until i move across the country when summer comes. we’re also going to celebrate christmas together because it just feels right lol

i would say i am doing as well as i can… we are obviously on good terms, but this is probably one of the hardest things i’ll go through. it is the biggest heartbreak of my life. but that is really just a sign that the time we’ve shared together haven’t been a waste. we can be proud of the fact that we’ve been honest, faithful, respectful and kind throughout the entirety of our relationship, to the point where this is so hard even though it’s the right decision

obviously, i am very scared of the path that lies ahead. he has been by my side for the better half of a decade, and i have the privilege of exploring things on my own. it’s obviously what i have been missing in my life, so i am excited for what’s to come, but terrified of living a life he’s not going to be such a big part of anymore

but things are going to be fine. idk how long it will take, i am suspecting very long, but i know in my bones this is for the best for us both. so with time, i will be happy

and not to worry, i have a fantastic support system. i have incredible friends who are there for me. i am lucky to have a family who is not guilting me about leaving a long term relationship, despite also being sad. and i’ve learned i have a great community on here who has showed so much kindness, and i am so grateful <3

that being said — i am not planning on taking a break from tumblr lol. if anything, i am starting to get out of my writers block. this past week i have written more than i have the last month so that’s good! i think i might try and be a little more productive than i have been the past few weeks (at least i hope so, work is picking up again hehe)

not putting this out here for sympathy or anything, but just a little update. i am interested in the lives of those i follow, so maybe some of you are interested in mine

wishing everyone a nice weekend 🫶🏻 i got work in the morning (day after the breakup that’s fun)

#— yap central #tw vent #tw breakup #i am fine guys #all things considered

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dhampling · 10 months ago

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I've had this idea in my head ever since I first played as a Dragonborn or Tiefling in BG3, and I have no idea why it isn't discussed more. But what if a Tiefling! (Or Dragonborn, whichever you prefer) Tav shows affection by coiling their tail around their s/o? Like they're close by and are just overwhlemed with love and adoration, and their tail just kinda wraps around their lovers leg? Or wrist or anywhere they can reach! Like Tav is hugging Astarion and then without really realizing it, their tail coils around him as well? Idk, I just think the concept is super sweet/cute. I would love to see this as a small story, or even just head cannons if you want to explore the idea as well. No pressure, obviously, ignore it if you wish to ❤️ hope you're doing well!

a tail of... insert pun here! tavs with TAILS. tails with tav. tav tails with dal.

hello sweetling! can i start by saying that i loved this - genuinely, absolutely loved this. i started by writing HCs and got a bit carried away, so i hope you enjoy the little bit of both here! thank you for giving me something different - this is absolutely not something i'd have thought of and i had SO MUCH FUN. a/n: species isn't mentioned, and I've tried to keep it as generic as possible so it could be applicable for tiefs or dragonborn tavs!

headcanons;

As far back as you can recall you’ve been particularly expressive

It’s not something that you’ve ever seen as an issue, beyond the occasional mishap you can laugh over with any tail-whipped parties later

Frantic little licks of excitement when playing with your peers as a youngling come to mind as an immediate example

Running amok and jumping with the widest of smiles as your tail oscillates behind you

Your family chiding you playfully whilst rubbing their stinging ankles after a particularly jovial day in your presence

Your parents holding you whilst you were still small enough to be held

Your tail bony and light, and yet tightly winding around their forearms as you rested on their torso like a twisting vine

A sign of comfort, safety

A sign that hasn’t lost any significance as you’ve aged

Many a time you’ve run into an old friend and accidentally lashed them in sheer glee, loosely wrapping your tail to whichever limb you can to keep them close as you agree to wander the local bustling market together

And so when you begin to bond with your fellow escapists as you search for a cure for your unfortunate parasite problem, it’s inevitable

It doesn’t even cross your mind

Not until the day where everything just went right

For the first time since your abduction you’ve emerged your battles all victorious, casualties kept to a minimum, and with enough variety in supplies to have a proper meal

Spirits are high, wine is flowing; and your party has a real energy of optimism

Your tail flitters back and forth like a moth to a flame as your take to your feet and search for the one who has captured your attention

fool's errand;

It takes Astarion a little aback when the wine steers you towards him.

A few weeks in each others’ presence, sure. A night or two; possibly three, maybe even four at this point, of mutual enjoyment under the stars. Frequent back and forth exchanges while on the road, bantering like old friends. You give him your neck, he offers you moral support.

But on a night where the joy is positively spilling from every cup in camp, you step to him?

He’s unsure whether to be flattered or cautious.

If you’re to end your arrangement, surely tonight - where the conversation is so effusive, so effortless across your party - would be the optimal time to do so. Laugh it away as a lapse in judgement between ‘old friends’, as you often joke, and drift from him to a more viable prospect as the coming days pass. Leave him as the least amicable in camp once more. He’d understand.

Not that he’d like it.

But he’d understand.

Or, he’d try to. He might be a little upset if Lae’zel wins Lady Congeniality over him, but it’s not the end of the world.

He’d have to hope the group still would still want to keep him around of course. Be a little nicer to Gale. Offer to help Karlach carry your packs between camps.

What is he offering you if not his nimble fingers? Maybe he went too hard on gunning for you. Or not hard enough, perhaps?

You quirk a brow as you snap your fingers in his face, wine sloshing gently in your other hand.

Clearly his face is now showing his displeasure.

“You ok? Hello?”

“Oh! Yes, my sweet. Lost in thought.”

He waggles his fingers and lifts his goblet to toast alongside yours. To new friends.

“I must say - you being lost in thought is entirely unusual. Still wondering about the left handed tongs Gale sent you searching for earlier?” You laugh warmly. He scowls.

“I don’t eat! I haven’t eaten for two hundred years. What use would I have for tongs in a dungeon, darling?’

He sips.

‘A fool’s errand in very poor taste, if you ask me.”

You still. He pauses.

He’s feeling sour, and he’s ruined it for you. Sapped the joy from your evening. Gods.

He wracks his brain for ways he can come back into favour.

Suggest other things he’d like to taste in order to clear his palate. He hasn’t eaten in two hundred years, and he’s absolutely famished. Whet your appetite a little. Win you back round.

“I can hear your brain whirring, you know.” You whisper, leaning close.

He freezes. Can you see it? Through the tadpole? His horrid scheming?

And you do the most unexpected thing.

Your arms come around his torso to envelop him in a tight hug.

You aren’t fervently clutching at his waist, running fevered hands over his abdomen or pulling yourself close just to feel his body against yours.

It’s soft. Clandestine almost. He doesn’t know how to react.

“I do so adore you, you know? You make this sordid little adventure a little more enjoyable each day.’

You hum. Your head falls to his chest, your tail wrapping around his leg steadily.

‘You can talk to me about these things if you want to. If you figure out what you want to say. I’m here.”

He wouldn’t have anticipated a single one of your actions in the face of his sullen behaviour this evening.

Yet the one that touches him most is the tail now secure around his leg.

A reminder of every tired day you flit joyously against him as you trek together, the curiosity and jubilee when he powers through a wholly trapped room with nothing but a single tool and a flourish - for good measure, of course.

Your little happy whips as you stumble on dire-needed pouches of gold alongside him. His lockpicking skill that you find oh-so enthralling, providing for the party in making use of his talent.

And every once in a while when you’re aside him, the way this happens.

A moment that reminds him of the beauty within bodies past their use for sexuality. How genuinely happy those little mindless touches make him. How his undead heart could maybe be cajoled into beating again over this one.

He coughs. Smiles. Brings his arms around you, though delayed.

Head resting atop yours.

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you, treasure?”

Your tail flits against his leg in a happy shiver.

“Naturally, darling.”

You imitate him in a way that makes you both laugh like fools. Toast once again.

"To us."

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #fluff #my writing #headcanons #tavs with tails #request #thank you anon i love you!

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bosbas · 11 months ago

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Chapter 12: did you wish you'd put up more of a fight?

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 4.1k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining, physical altercation (nothing serious but a few mentions of blood), mentions of sex if you squint, benedict being so so stupid

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: guys idk anything about physical fights sorry if this is super unrealistic LMAO

August 12, 1814 - But, dear reader, I cannot fail to mention the upcoming gathering hosted by the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall. Those lucky enough to receive an invitation are surely busy preparing for the eventful trip ahead. Every year, the Bridgerton country party proves to be an excellent hunting ground for ambitious mamas with daughters of marriageable age. Will this year's party bring forth new proposals? Whispers around the ton indicate that a certain Bridgerton brother might propose to Miss Y/N Beaumont, and that would certainly be the news of the season. Fear not, for this author shall keep the ton abreast of any and all developments.

"I beg your pardon?" he spoke, tone low and venomous as he breathed heavily. "What the bloody hell did you just say?"

Benedict saw you exchange a nervous glance with his older brother and his blood boiled at the sight. It was him you should be exchanging glances with. Not Anthony, of all people. He could hardly believe it. In fact, he didn't believe it at all. This had to be some sick joke, some cruel prank that you and his brothers and perhaps even your brothers had all been in on to rag on him for disappearing to the countryside for a month and a half. He desperately wanted you to burst out laughing and start making fun of him for believing that you and Anthony were to get married. But as the seconds ticked by, it became more and more unlikely that this was the case.

Interrupting your prolonged eye contact with Anthony, you looked down at your hands anxiously. This was not how it was supposed to go. There was no nature walk, no time alone with Ben, just an angry Benedict standing at the door to Anthony's study, waves of fury rolling off of him. A small part of you had hoped he would be angry, yes, but now that you were seeing him, unmoving, you wanted nothing more than to disappear from the room. You wished Ben had come ten minutes earlier, where you would have greeted him with a hug instead, feeling his strong arms make themselves at home as they wrapped around you. Benedict was not often angry, especially not at you, but when he was, he usually voiced his displeasure quite loudly to anyone who would listen. However, knowing he was standing there, stock-still and seething, you weren't quite sure how he was going to react.

"How much of that did you hear, exactly?" you asked meekly, trying to gauge how much damage control you would have to do. You kept your gaze firmly on your hands, unable to meet his eyes and slightly fearful of his silent anger.

"Enough to know that my brother is the man you're marrying," Benedict responded, sounding angrier than he was when he first walked in, if that was possible. "I see it's been quite a productive season," he added in a clipped tone.

Your head snapped up at his last comment. You felt Anthony tense beside you as he felt your anger rising, but you didn't care. How dare Benedict blame you for finding a husband after he so unceremoniously walked away from you? Meeting Ben's intense gaze and flinching as you practically felt the daggers shooting from his eyes, you yelled back, "What did you expect, Benedict? You walked away from me and I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I found a husband. I don't know what more you want from me."

Try as you might to keep your voice strong, a wobble at the end had betrayed your true feelings. You had sounded more pleading than anything, but you were beyond caring. You were absolutely crushed, and you could see that Benedict was hurting as well. After years of looking into his eyes, you could recognize that he, too, was hiding sorrow behind his anger. Trying to remain composed, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt Anthony reach over and place a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"I didn't–" started Benedict, unable to continue once he saw Anthony's hand on you. It was true, then. The courtship. Or the proposal. Or whatever else you two had been doing while he was in the countryside five seconds away from tearing his hair out in desperation because he loved you so much. Suddenly, it was difficult to remember why exactly he hadn't wanted to marry you. Marrying you couldn't have been worse than what he was feeling right now, the devastating realization of having truly lost you. Surely nothing could be worse than this.

Carrying the unspeakable grief that came with losing one's best friend and soulmate all in one evening, Benedict turned around to walk out of Anthony's office. He couldn't bear to be there any longer, watching the woman he loved be caressed by his brother. Without a second glance at the two of you, he closed the door behind him and made his way to his own room. He would have been better off going there in the first place, he thought. Then he could've had a few more moments of peace before he found out what you and Anthony had been up to in his absence.

Looking at the closed door, Anthony's hand dropped from your shoulder as he stood in shock at what had just happened. "Are you alright?" he asked you, knowing the answer but needing to reassure you anyway.

You shook your head, holding in tears that were threatening to spill. "Someone should go after him," you said pressing your fingers to the corner of your eyes. What you really meant was, you should go after him, Anthony, but you wanted to give him a chance to say no. To decide he wasn't going to clean up yet another mess you had made because of your stupid feelings for his brother.

But Anthony, ever the eldest child, nodded in agreement. "Just stay put for a bit while I get him into his room. I don't think it would be the best idea to have the two of you talk right now."

Aubrey Hall had already seen too much chaos today without what he expected was going to be a shouting match between you and Benedict. If only the shouting match could lead to the two of you realizing that you did, in fact, love each other very much and that you would, in fact, be very happily married. He gave you one last squeeze on the shoulder and took off determinedly to find his brother.

Benedict saw Anthony catching up to him out of the corner of his eye but didn't stop or slow down. He couldn't bear to stop now, he needed to get to his room. Or really anywhere that was stripped of every trace of you. Benedict could barely think, the moment when Anthony placed his hand on your shoulder replaying relentlessly through his mind and preventing him from thinking about anything else.

Feeling Anthony stop right behind him, Benedict turned around to face him. The two brothers stood, staring at each other, for several moments. Anthony trying to think of what to say and Benedict getting angrier by the second.

"If you had–" started Anthony, only to be cut off by Benedict immediately.

"How could you do this?" Ben shouted, voice raw from holding back the string of curses he wanted to direct at Anthony right now. Anthony bit his lip, grimacing. He knew Benedict would be mad, but he had been unprepared for the magnitude of his fury. In a way, he felt bad for Ben. Anthony could tell that you were the love of Benedict's life—it was ridiculously obvious—and it couldn't have been easy to see you with someone else. But enough was enough, and Anthony had seen you heartbroken for long enough to know that Ben had only brought this upon himself.

"Might I remind you that you left, Benedict? After she asked you to marry her, no less," shot back Anthony, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He could see Ben waver at his words, face blanching slightly at the realization that you had told Anthony about your quasi-proposal.

"And you think you're better than me? Anyone with half a brain knows you don't want to marry for love. Did that change in the last four weeks? Are you now suddenly unequivocally in love with her? Is that what happened?" asked Benedict, an unfathomable bitterness on his tongue. His words were mocking, but deep down he did want answers. Did you and Anthony really fall for each other while he was gone? Had he been that foolish, to ever imagine the possibility of having something beyond friendship with you when his older brother was right there?

Anthony rolled his eyes, "Come off it, Benedict. You can't play the victim every time. She's aware that I don't want to marry for love. After some very negative experiences with the men of the ton, you included, she's decided she is perfectly fine not marrying for love either." Seeing Benedict's brow furrow in protest, Anthony continued, "Honestly, I promise I didn't force her into anything, I only gave her the option. She decided all by herself that this was what she wanted. And if you'd stop being a prick for about two seconds you'd realize this is what's best for her, anyway. That I'm what's best for her." And sure, Anthony knew he had probably gone too far with his last comment, but Benedict was being incredibly frustrating at the minute that Anthony didn't care.

However, Benedict didn't want to stop being a prick for two seconds. Especially because you were about to get engaged to his brother, who was being a massive dick right now. So instead, he chose to give into his anger, pushing against Anthony's shoulders so he was knocked against the wall.

"That you're what's best for her?" he scoffed. "I've been best friends with her for two decades but suddenly you're the one who knows exactly what she needs? Seems quite logical," finished Ben, pure poison dripping from his voice.

Undeterred, Anthony pushed Benedict back. "What is so wrong about our courtship? You left her so she could find a husband and that's exactly. What. She. Did," he yelled, accentuating every word with a shove at Ben's shoulders, who responded by swatting his hands away.

"She was off limits, Anthony. You knew that! You never should've done that," cried Benedict, grabbing his brother by the collar, and growing more frustrated by the second. However, whether he was angrier at Anthony or himself was unclear.

Exasperated, the elder Bridgerton reached over to slap the side of Benedict's head. "Off limits? Why would she be off limits? She seemed pretty on limits when you said you couldn't marry her and fucked off to the countryside for half the season," came his response.

"Because she is my best friend," Benedict roared back. Hearing Anthony's mocking laugh brought out a level of anger Ben did not know existed within himself, and he found his fist flying to make contact with Anthony's mouth. Ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue, Anthony responded by kneeing Benedict in the groin until he doubled over and slammed the fist that had just hit him into the wall.

Ben cradled his hand against his side, wincing as he saw his grazed knuckles, but he was unrelenting. It was like all of the pent-up emotions of frustration and uselessness he had been feeling in the countryside were finally bubbling over now that he had someone to direct his anger toward. "Because she is my best friend and you know that I'm in love with her. I know you know, Anthony, you cannot pretend otherwise," he said, desperation evident in his voice.

Fairly done with the conversation and itching to go sort out his busted lip, Anthony tried to straighten out his collar as he spoke to Benedict, "Well, even if you are, it doesn't do her much good if you have no intention of marrying her, does it?"

Benedict was stunned to silence. Anthony was right, of course, but Ben couldn't find it in himself to concede to the man who was going to take away Benedict's best friend and the love of his life all in one go. So he just stared at his brother, breathing heavily and searching for words that would not give away just how destroyed he truly felt.

"I am proposing to her in a week. You have until then to fix this, otherwise, you will truly have lost her forever." And with that, Anthony walked off without a second glance, leaving Benedict to grapple with his thoughts.

Walking upstairs in search of something to stop the bleeding at his lip, Anthony couldn't believe that Benedict had admitted his feelings for you. The intensity of the argument between the two brothers had most likely been the catalyst for the confession, but Anthony hoped that this might be what allowed Ben to finally see right by you and love you the way he so obviously wanted to. Regardless, Anthony couldn't help the protective instinct that surged within him. He cared about you, and he was acutely aware of the heartbreak that awaited you if his brother didn't come to his senses.

Too caught up in his thoughts, Anthony missed your presence entirely as he made his way past your room. "Anthony, your lip!" you exclaimed as you closed your bedroom door behind you, bringing him out of his musings. He touched his hand to his injury, hissing in pain slightly as he was reminded of the blood coming out of his cut lip.

He waved his hand dismissively, "It's alright, just a scrape," he assured you.

You seemed doubtful but nodded anyway. "I was going to ask how your talk with him went but I think I have a very clear idea," you said, earning you a short laugh from Anthony.

He cleared his throat, looking at you up and down with a mix of concern and determination. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, charged with the aftermath of the confrontation with Benedict.

"Look, I gave you my word, and a gentleman's word is his bond. I fully intend to honor our agreement," Anthony began, his tone steady and resolute. "But, I also think it's crucial for both you and Benedict to have a conversation, to sort out feelings on both sides."

You looked at him nervously, not ready to confront your feelings for Benedict, let alone any that Benedict might have for you.

He gave you an encouraging smile. "If you decide you still want to marry me afterward, that's perfectly alright, and I'd be delighted to do so. But I think it's only fair that you both have a chance to speak your minds before we move forward." He met your eyes, sincerity evident in his gaze. "Talk to Benedict. I think he went to his studio. I'll give you both the time you need."

You knew he was right, unfortunately. So you nodded, giving him a grateful hug before he excused himself to go clean up his injury and you headed down the stairs to go look for Benedict.

---

In the solitude of his studio, Benedict wrestled with a storm of emotions he was feeling as he paced the room. He couldn't believe that he was going to lose you to his brother. Even if you and Anthony were not in love with each other now, it was only a matter of time, he reasoned. You were, at the very least, the most extraordinary woman he had ever encountered, and surely Anthony would see it that way eventually. Especially if the two of you had children. His heart dropped at the thought of you and Anthony in bed together, but he pushed the image away once he heard a knock on his studio door.

Seeing your face poke into the room, he couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in his stomach, even despite his tumultuous thoughts. "Well, hello," he greeted you curtly, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair nervously, knowing a difficult conversation awaited him.

But you gasped before you could respond, immediately distracted by his bloodied knuckles. "Benedict, what on earth...?" you trailed off as you rushed to grab his injured hand in both of yours.

Benedict's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hands on his. The tenderness with which you turned over his hand made a previously dormant warmth rise in his chest, and he bit his lip to keep from shivering. You looked so beautiful, face pinched in focus as you ran your finger over his injury, and he inhaled sharply as your finger traced over his open wound.

"So this is what you and Anthony were doing instead of talking, then?" you scolded, looking into his eyes but not letting go of his hand. It didn't matter that you were still furious with him, it felt too good to have the heavy weight of his fingers half-intertwined with yours after so long of having him away.

"It's nothing," Benedict responded, shaking his head. Then, remembering why his knuckles were grazed in the first place, he added bitterly, "Why don't you go check on Anthony instead?"

Your face fell immediately and you dropped his hand. He hadn't meant to upset you, and he certainly hadn't meant to make you let go of his hand, but it seemed like his anger and jealousy had taken the reins today. But even when you were angry with him and looked about three seconds away from hitting his other hand, he couldn't help but marvel at you. He was completely enamored, looking from your furrowed brow to your narrowed eyes to your full lips. And his eyes stayed on your lips because it seemed that no matter how angry you were he couldn't ignore the ever-growing urge to kiss you right then and there, consequences be damned.

You rolled your eyes, anger bubbling up inside of you once again. "Benedict, I simply don't understand why you're so upset. If anything, marrying Anthony is a better option than marrying anyone else. Our families will remain close and you and I can still see each other fairly often. And once you're married–"

"I'll never marry," he interrupted, voice clipped. He was appalled that you would even suggest that, although he reasoned that you had no reason to believe that he wouldn't marry.

You look at him, confusion written all over your face. "I– What? What do you mean you will never marry? Benedict–"

"I love you," Ben blurted out. "I love you in a way that even words cannot express. I would rather remain unmarried than be with someone who isn't you," he added, needing to make sure that you understood that he loved you beyond what the boundaries of your friendship allowed. He had thought that you might fall in love with some other man, and he would be fated to watch you be besotted with someone else. However, now that he knew that you intended to marry Anthony, who you were most definitely not in love with, he needed you to know that he was the one who had loved you for years now. And he hoped that you might love him, too.

But you did not swoon like he expected. And you did not rush into his arms to kiss him or confess your undying love for him. You didn't even smile. "Are you joking?" you said angrily.

Benedict's eyes widened, shocked by your response. "I'm not– Why would I be joking?" he stumbled over his words.

"First you tell me you won't marry me, which is fine by the way, and then you leave so I can find a husband, which is also fine. Except," you let out a disbelieving laugh, "once you find out that your older brother is the man I'm going to marry, you are suddenly in love with me." You're still staring at him, daring him to challenge you. "It's a little too convenient, don't you think?"

He was panicking, horrified that you thought his confession was merely a way to get back at you for going after his brother. Guilt was coursing through his stomach in an entirely unpleasant manner, and he was struggling to find the words to convey his love for you in a way that you deserved to hear.

"It's not like that! I do love you. I want you and I don't want anyone else," he said desperately, reaching for your hand so he could reassure you.

But you were having none of it. After all this time, you couldn't believe he had the nerve to show up at Aubrey Hall, get into a fight with your future husband, and then confess his supposedly undying love for you. Feeling his hand clutching yours, a feeling so familiar, brought tears to your eyes. You ripped your hand away from his, not able to parse the gentleness with which he held your hand with his careless words.

"Stop it! Having you leave after I asked you to marry me was painful, but this might be the cruelest thing you've ever done, Benedict," you said, tears blurring your vision. "You can't just march in here after weeks of being away and demand that I stop my plans so that you can get back at your brother."

Benedict's eyes welled with tears, reflecting the pain that echoed in your own. He couldn't believe you still wanted to marry Anthony after all this. You were his one big love. There was no one else. And it was all too much to think that you didn't feel the same way.

So he pressed, "Is my love not enough? I have been falling apart on my own from the magnitude of my love for you. Should that not be enough? To know that I love you with every fiber of my being, more fiercely than I've ever done anything in my entire life?"

Tears were running unobstructed down your face now and you choked back a sob. If Benedict had told you this about six weeks ago, you would have dropped everything to be with him. But it was too late now.

"It's not enough when I had been feeling the exact same way and you still walked away from me," you responded, clutching his hand for comfort even though he was the one who had caused you pain.

He pulled you in fully, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back comfortingly. Benedict put his chin on your head as you buried your face in his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent that never failed to make you feel at home.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry," he murmured, hugging you tighter when he heard you sob. "I suppose being in love with you feels so natural I didn't quite realize what it was until recently." He kept rubbing your back, tracing patterns on your skin.

"And– And I thought I was ruining our friendship. When I wanted you, I kept thinking I shouldn't have been," Ben added, cringing as he realized the gravity of his misunderstanding.

You were overwhelmed by his confession, barely believing that he actually reciprocated the feelings you had struggled to keep hidden for so long. You couldn't help the steady stream of tears running down your face, and you burrowed deeper into Benedict, needing to be closer still. You felt one of his hands lifting your face to look up at him and the other keeping you pressed firmly against him. Your tear-stained eyes met his as you sniffled, struggling to breathe normally.

You watched, almost in slow motion, as Benedict's eyes fluttered shut and leaned down, lips slightly parted as he leaned down toward you. This was everything you wanted, wasn't it? In the rose garden, you had wanted him to kiss you more than you had wanted to keep breathing. You had probably spent hours looking at his lips, wondering what it would be like to taste them. To have them on your lips and enjoy the feel of them as they moved against yours. To know what it felt like to have Benedict be truly yours.

But that was then, and you wanted different things now. So you broke free of his grasp and pushed him away, breathing heavily as he opened his eyes in shock and looked to you for an explanation.

"You can't just do that, Ben! We haven't resolved anything, and it certainly won't be resolved by you kissing me," you exclaimed, playing up your anger to hide your pain.

So you turned on your heel, exiting his studio as quietly as you had entered, and he was left, for the second time that day, speechless as someone walked away from him.

—

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