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biteofcherry · 26 days ago

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To the victor go the spoils

minotaur!Ari Levinson x female reader

summary: It was supposed to be your small wish coming true. You didn't think that it was merely a cog in a wicked set-up that catered to someone else's desire.

warnings: minotaur!Ari; dark!Ari; monsterfucking, but no bestiality; heavy dub-con; power imbalance; size kink; breeding kink; belly bulge/cumflation; unprotected sex; dirty talk; talk of forced piercing; housewife kink;

word count: 4.8k

Author’s Note: Another installment in the Scaretale universe. Special shout out to @stargazingfangirl18 who may be the biggest minotaur!Ari hoe out there 😆🖤

Huffing out a breath, you tried to keep up with Natasha’s long strides. She wasn’t tall, but somehow her lean legs were taking twice the distance yours did. It also appeared she was in a hurry, though not out of fear, but rather excitement.

You wondered, if it was the fight she dragged you to that got her all hyper and potentially aroused. As you learned over the months of meeting and befriending the fae, Natasha got turned on by a lot of things, often kinky things.

Watching a bloody fight wasn’t your type of entertainment. But since it was a part of Natasha’s grand plan, you relented and went with her. And to your own surprise, you found yourself experiencing more than just disgust and fear.

Your preferences might’ve been of the softer, sweeter kind, but there was still a pulsing part of your body that reacted to the sight of strong, half-naked men viciously fighting one another.

Well, monsters, not men. Still, your core tightened with a wild sort of interest.

Which at least would make the second part of Natasha’s scheme more bearable.

Because your friend decided to help you make a certain man jealous and she was adamant that having you flirt with one of the fighters would be the perfect way to do it. Especially since the man you were kinda pinning after was your ex. Your breakup wasn’t some disaster, more like him being honest about not feeling for you anything other than sympathy after the four dates you went on. But you still liked him and wanted him.

Though perhaps that was because he seemed to be the embodiment of what you dreamed you perfect partner to be.

Smart, polite, well dressed, with steady income and his own apartment. A solid guy.

Many would call him boring, but you saw it as reliable.

The only wild part about him was his passion for watching fights. He never showed any aggression of his own, didn’t even mention wanting to try boxing, or some other fighting style. He simply enjoyed the show of strength and brutality, as if it was a round of cricket.

He wouldn’t miss the fight of the year - of the decade even, as some said. The champion of champions who was supposed to be retired has agreed to enter the ring for the last time.

Ari Levinson.

A minotaur.

The minotaur. The most famous, even if you weren’t a sports fan, his name reached your ears in some way.

Sitting there at the arena, watching his fight, you had to agree he was impressive. In the way he moved. In his sheer strength. In the way he looked, too. Though that realization came with a thrilling shock.

Still, after the fight ended - with Levinson winning without difficulty - your thoughts returned to Paul. You caught a glimpse of him in the audience, but then he disappeared in the masses. Natasha’s plan was based on her certainty that he was going to be present at the celebration for the victor that was being held at the Scaretale club.

A club known mostly for its matchmaking between monsters and humans, but not limited to it.

The celebration was for invited guests only, meaning also guests who spend half of their yearly paycheck to be granted close proximity to the victor. Paul, for all his reasonable approach to life, would splurge on this one passion.

Your blessing was Natasha, who got both of you personal invites. Said she knew someone on the inside. Convenient. You didn’t question it, since it gave you an opportunity to find yourself close to Paul and catch his attention.

Natasha, who showed incredible ease in wrapping men (both monster and human) around her finger, was convinced that however posed and boring a man is, his hindbrain will always salivate for the juicy bite in another man’s grasp. Especially in someone’s admirable grasp.

She intended to get you close to Ari Levinson himself. Simply introducing you, but making sure that Paul saw the close proximity between the two of you.

Honestly, a part of you thought it was the most ridiculous idea, but there was a part of you that wanted to be reckless and follow that wild plan in hope of gaining your greatest desire.

Which is why you dared to wear a sweet, but rather short sundress that flowed high around your thighs, giving a teasing glimpse.

Entering the Scaretale was like stepping into a completely different dimension.

Natasha didn’t seem to feel any change, but you nearly stopped in your tracks. Outside there was chaos of life, people moving around, noises filling the air. Here you were engulfed in a vacuum of tranquility.

Seductive half-shadows speared by drops of light and jewel tones mixed with velvet black. Various monsters and a small congregation of people were mingling around. But their conversations seemed quieter, carrying a hush of flirtation and excitement.

You spotted Paul among one group to the side; with a drink in his hand he was nodding along as two bearded men talked. His gaze kept shifting towards the center of the place where a large, oval bar took stage.

There, standing next to only one man, was the man of the hour. The minotaur.

You noticed that despite it being a special event for the rich VIPs, no one actually dared to come anywhere close to the fighter. They were given a privilege of being so very close to him, maybe even meet his gaze and nod his way, but not necessarily the honor of being allowed closer.

Which meant that you and Natasha, striding right across the room and toward the bar, were drawing attention.

Paul’s attention, too, undoubtedly.

As you neared, the minotaur and the man beside him looked your way. There was such intensity in the blue of Levinson’s eyes that your gaze dropped down instantly. The man next to him was easier to look at, with his relaxed posture, leaning against the bar, and an amused smirk dancing on his beautifully carved lips.

Next to the minotaur, he appeared shorter. Leaner, too. Though that wasn’t a surprise, since Levinson was so damn huge.

He was a beast in the ring, but up close even more so.

The calm, falsely homey-like feeling that greeted you first (which called so directly to the white picket fence desires of simple, happy domestic life), crumbled with the crackling intensity of the power and heat pulsating off the minotaur.

You kept your polite distance, yet still could feel his warmth brushing against your bare arms.

“Nat.” The other man smiled; the way his mouth curved was both enticing and sinister at the same time.

“Cuz,” she snickered and leaned forward to brush his cheek with a kiss. Then she turned to the minotaur, boldly extending her hand - “Mr Levinson.”

Ari gruffed a short greeting, enclosing her delicate hand in his massive one. Your gaze dropped to their connected hands, transfixed. His fingers were so big and long. Two of yours would make one of his.

There was still bloodied tape wrapped around his knuckles, reminding you of the swift, fast punches he threw in the ring.

Your gaze traveled up his forearm, taking in the golden coloring of hair covering his bronze skin and protruding veins curving around muscles. Further up, his bicep flexed in an impressive, wide sculpt. Round shoulder began the path to the wide chest - oh, so wide.

And so bare. Shiny with sweat, with which he seemed completely unbothered.

Forcing yourself to not follow the path of darkening hair on his chest descending into a thick trail leading down, you looked up. to his face Sturdy jaw was lined with a soft looking, thick beard. His cheeks were peppered with freckles. Noble, long nose was crowned with a pure gold septum ring. His hair came past his jawline, strands of dark blonde and bronze, curling slightly at the ends.

High above the line of his ears, long, massive horns protruded. Curved wide, in bronze color shading into cream and then turning black at the very sharp ends.

“This is the friend you mentioned?” He asked, his question still directed at Natasha, but his attention switched to you fully.

His gaze caught yours and you couldn’t look away. The air around you seemed to charge with stifling intensity, as if your instincts were rattling in growing fear of the monster in front of you snapping you in half.

He could do that, you saw him in the ring; not to mention the sheer size difference between the two of you.

“She is.” Natasha’s voice resounded more melodic than you've ever heard before. She nudged you.

Swallowing nervously, you almost curtsied as you introduced yourself.

Both Natasha and her supposed cousin chuckled, noticing your reaction. Ari didn’t smirk, but his head tilted slightly as he studied you. You felt frozen on the spot when he reached a single digit and drew it down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Then his gaze slowly dragged down your form. Heat erupted beneath your skin - partly out of embarrassment, partly because the minotaur’s attention was plucking at certain, deep strings in your core.

That display undoubtedly drew many people’s attention, but somehow you were unable to think of Paul at the moment, whether he was watching you, or not. You were more focused on regulating your breath and not making any weird sounds.

Ari’s eyes returned to your face, the almost hostile darkness in them receding into unexpected calm and warmth.

“I accept the payment. We’re even.” He said to the other two, without taking his eyes off of you.

His fingers circled your wrist. You felt his touch like a searing brand, but you didn’t dare to yank your arm out of his grip. Or maybe it wasn’t just fear of repercussion, but rather the reaction of your body that slowed other instincts.

Suddenly, Ari moved. He simply turned around and strode toward the back of the club, dragging you with him.

“Hey!” You gasped. “Wait!”

You almost had to run to match his pace. You turned your head, looking at Natasha over your shoulder. Her eyes gleamed mischievously and she winked at you.

Was this part of the plan? Was Paul supposed to see you go with the minotaur and feel a surge of jealousy?

You didn’t get any answers from your friend, nor any sort of reassurance, before darkness engulfed you. Levinson dragged you into some sort of corridor, on the far right. It seemed to spiral down for a moment. At the end of it, the darkness finally dispersed. Drops of light hung in the air, casting a soft glow and revealing a double door.

When Ari got the both of you inside, the door disappeared, leaving you in a large, open space, but with no visible way out.

“Wha- what’s going on?” You asked, wetting your lips.

Ari let go of your hand. Where he touched you, you felt a faint pulsing. At first you thought it to be pain, from how firm he held you, but there was nothing unpleasant about it.

“Just want to take a shower before we travel.”

It struck you, how casually he said it. That gruff, scary, unapproachable beast suddenly sounded almost carefree. When he peered at you over his shoulder, there was playfulness in his eyes. And it matched his next words.

“You can help, Poppy.”

You frowned. Unless all the fights have damaged his brain, he learned your name just minutes ago. Then you realized he was referring to the pattern on your dress. Pretty, red poppy flowers on a pristine white fabric.

“That’s a nice accent, too,” he added. “Red enticing the bull.”

You stared. Simply stared. Not only, because you had no words to counter his teasing assumption, but because he fucking dropped his boxer shorts down.

You couldn’t help it, your eyes swept down from his broad back to the sculpted ass and thick, hairy thighs. Hair on his legs was so thick it gave semblance of softest fur, all in tones of golden bronze. His hooves, in contrast, were black as the tips of his horns.

“I’m not helping you!” You squeaked, feeling embarrassment scorching your face. “And can you please cover yourself?”

When Ari turned back to you, your gaze dropped down, but you quickly forced yourself to look away.

He cut the distance between you in two powerful strides, the stomp of his hooves making your heart thud. He loomed over you; his shadow forming a scary reflection on the light, marble walls.

A large hand cupped your chin, forcing you to turn and look up at him.

“I’m not covering the sight you’ll be seeing daily, Poppy. Better get used to it.” Previous glimpse of playfulness drained from his voice. “And you will be helping me, washing me thoroughly and devoted, little wife.”

The ground seemed to part beneath your feet and a cold, dreadful abyss waited for you to fall into it. There wasn’t a single thread of potential joke to hang on to. Just the unyielding grip of the minotaur, keeping you afloat, while at the same time being the one dragging you into doom.

“That’s why you’re here,” he added, with a huff.

“No,” you tried to shake your head, but his hold on you didn’t allow much movement. “My friend wanted to help me make one man jealous and-”

“And I’m sure he was jealous when he saw me scoop my bride up.” Ari shrugged. “Deal has been fulfilled.”

“Deal?” Your throat parched when Ari’s other hand slipped onto your waist. He curved his arm around you, bringing you closer to his sturdy, hot body.

Your breasts pressed against his broad chest and an outline of something big and hardening nestled against your belly. Something awoke in your core, tingling with need.

“Your friend is a fae. A dark fae.” He explained. “You wanted that man to be jealous and she guaranteed that. She didn’t promise you a happy ending with him. Ransom, however, promised me a wife. That was my price.”

You gasped, a muffled No tumbling from your lips.

You couldn’t, wouldn’t believe your friend tricked and used you like that. Natasha was upfront about being a fae, though she never revealed she was a dark one. Still, you trusted her. Until the flash of her sinister amusement when Ari dragged you away reflected in your memory. There was something cold about it.

Another gasp followed, this one more helpless, as Ari lifted you slightly off the floor. His arm around your body tightened as he easily picked you the few inches up. The hand holding your chin eased. He traced the back of his fingers along your jaw then down your neck.

“I was done with fighting. Had enough of them already and the riches I gained over the years are enough to last me and two next generations. But I was lacking something. Those generations, you see.” His fingers curled around the front of your neck. “So when Ransom tried to talk me into one more fight, I asked for a different payment. I wanted a wife.”

“But I don’t want that!” You squirmed in his arms, bracing your small hands on his shoulders. No matter how much of your own strength you put into it, those attempts were comical and pathetic against the minotaur.

“You don’t want to build a life with a faithful partner?” Ari quirked a brow, taking a step back and carrying you with him.

“Look me in the eye, Poppy, and tell me you aren’t a girl who dreams of marriage. Of stability and domestic bliss.”

“Not with you!” You protested, helplessly kicking your feet. The monster wasn’t the slightest bothered by the few kicks into his muscled legs.

“Tough, because I want it with you.” Ari growled.

His fingers around your throat tightened, at the same time his hold on your body readjusted your position. It made you rub against the growing hardness of his cock. The feeling of it twitching against your warm, soft body, made your pussy clench.

He moved across the spacious room - it wasn’t an apartment, but more like an expensive, impractical hotel room, with the resting area flowing openly to the bedroom, with an open rainfall shower right in the middle of it.

Past the shower, on the left side, propped against the marble tiled wall, stood a three-winged mirror in a golden frame.

Ari eased you down to your feet, then turned you around. He held you on his arms, giving merely a foolish hope of freedom.

What was worse, the arm banded around your ribcage elevated your breasts. Your stiffened nipples were visible through the fabric of your dress. Your clenched thighs still protected the evidence of your body’s response, but you couldn’t deny the heat pooling low in your belly and marking your underwear with slick as you looked at your reflection.

You were so small compared to him. The mirror was tall, but Ari had to bend his knees to fit his face in the reflection.

In your sweet dress, your human body so fragile and helpless, you looked like an abducted sacrifice for the brutal monster behind you.

Something about that picture sent a jolt of thrill down your spine.

“You’re a sweet thing, aren’t you, Poppy?” Ari’s warm breath tickled your ear. “A good girl who dreams of a loving husband to take care of her. I’ll be that. Just a bit rougher around the edges,” he chuckled.

One of his arms loosened, his hand trailing slowly along the swell of your belly, then down toward your hip.

“With a bigger cock than any meek human man,” he rocked his hips against you, pressing the monstrous hardness into your ass.

“Oh gods!” You moaned.

A surge of heat flushed you as embarrassment for the involuntary reaction settled in. While you were mortified, Ari’s eyes sparked.

“You like that idea, my little Poppy.” He didn’t ask, he stated.

You shook your head, but tightened your lips in fear of releasing another humiliating sound.

Ari started bunching the fabric of your dress up, inch by inch, slowly rolling it up. Then his hoove kicked your feet apart and a thick, hairy thigh pressed between your legs.

His hand slid down, cupping your pussy boldly. Your body jerked, but it resulted in more delicious pressure against your folds. Ari held his palm in place, only crooking his middle finger and dragging it right over your clit. Your knees buckled, a shiver rolling through your body.

“It may scare you, but your body is eager to ride the bull.” Ari’s low laugh was followed by a lewd lick of his tongue along your cheek.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you.” He rubbed your nub harder. “But for the most part, I’ll do the riding.”

He snarled with hunger, gripping the pink cotton of your panties and tearing them away in one move. Thick, calloused fingers swept between your delicate folds, finding you shamefully wet.

“I’ll take you hard. Split your tight pussy on my cock. Fuck you while you scream your release. Fuck you while you scream that it’s too much. I’ll defile you. Fill you.”

His fingers were roughly moving from your swelling clit to your opening. The more he touched, the more he talked about the dirty things he planned on doing, the more wetness he drew out. The more your mouth parted, letting out tiny mewls and gasps.

“I’ll ruin you and you’ll let me.” He circled your clit again, faster. “You will let me do whatever I want and you’ll love everything and beg for more.”

Suddenly, he stopped. Leaving your pussy throbbing and unsatisfied.

He gripped the neckline of your dress and yanked, ripping the fabric and spilling your breasts out. Fingers wet with your juices traced the areola of your nipples, pads gently brushing hardened peaks.

“So pretty and sensitive,” Ari hummed, tweaking one of your buds between his thumb and index finger. “They will look even more beautiful when we have them pierced.”

“Fuck!” You jerked in his arms, but it was less of a weak protest and more a surprisingly violent reaction to the filthy hot image.

“Like the idea, huh?” Ari chuckled, pinching your abused nipple. The sting of pain went straight to your core. “I can have a chain to go along with them, tug on it like on a leash and have you obediently bend for me.”

Your slick was slowly dripping down your thigh and if Ari continued the filthy vocal torment, you’d be leaving wet spots on the floor in no time.

“You don’t have to worry, though,” he added in a softer tone, but his words were no less dirty, “nipple piercings usually don’t interfere with breastfeeding.”

Your glazed over gaze, which was focused on the reflection of his hands defiling your body, snapped up to Ari’s. He looked pleased, amused even, with your reaction to his implication. The spark of shock in your eyes combined with the way a shiny, thick string of slick was swaying between your thighs.

“Oh yes, Poppy,” he crooned, dipping his fingers in your wetness again. “I’m going to breed you. Fill that sweet pussy with my cum over and over again, until we fill our house with a gaggle of babes.”

The No forming somewhere in the back of your head died out as blazing pleasure seared you when Ari thrust two of his big fingers inside of you.

You screamed, clenching your eyes shut. The stretch of it felt almost brutal, but for your body it was the exact stimulation it needed to humiliate you further and push you right over the edge.

Your walls pulsed around intrusion bigger than most of your toys. Usually you had to work yourself up for much longer, before you used some of the larger things, but apparently being abducted and having a massive minotaur promise to ruin you was better than any foreplay.

Ari’s triumphant laughter cracked with a groan of pleasure as your walls kept fluttering around his fingers, driving him mad with temptation of feeling that on his bare cock. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, careless of your squirming and increasing cries.

“Gotta open you up, little one,” he curled his fingers, driving his pads over the spongy trigger that catapulted you to the brink of another orgasm.

“I want to stretch your cunt and break your will, not damage my eager breeder.”

“I’m not- I’m not your bre-” You mumbled, yet your hips kept rolling down, matching the rough tempo of his fingers.

Ari’s other hand clasped around your throat, clenching in warning, but not cutting off your airways. Despite him not holding you tightly, you didn’t bolt away. You stayed in place, watching in the mirror how the minotaur’s fingers disappeared in your pussy; how your slick glistened on your thighs.

“Look at yourself,” Ari snapped. “You’re leaking all over my hand, eagerly fucking yourself on my fingers. You’re going to have the same dumb, devoted look on your face when I spill deep inside of you.”

It was the way his fingers tormented you, it had to be, not the promise of knocking you up that tipped you right over the edge.

“That’s it, Poppy.” He squeezed your throat. “Watch yourself cum from the mere idea of being bred.”

And you did, your glassy eyes staring at the reflection of a panting woman in a ripped dress. Toes barely touching the floor, held up by thick fingers stuck deep in your dripping cunt and a hand curled around the front of your neck.

You were a puppet in the monster’s hands.

You were whatever he wanted you to be. A Poppy. A wife. A breeder.

When Ari withdrew his fingers from your sopping core, the loud squelching sound evoked a new wave of embarrassment. But you had no time to dwell on the humiliation as he tore the rest of your dress away and forced you to bend over.

Your arms stretched forward, hands braced on the mirror as you bent at the waist. Ari twisted one hand in your hair, propping your hips up with the other. He still needed to bend his knees to line up his cock with your entrance.

“Can’t wait to see you stretched and swollen,” Ari groaned, easing the bulbous tip of his massive dick into you. Your walls resisted, your tight channel not used to the minotaur’s size.

Your lips parted on a stretched, pained moan. You didn’t think it would fit. At the same time, you felt as if your suffering would be worse, if he didn’t continue.

“First from the overflow of my cum,” Ari kept pushing in, slow, but mindless of your keening. “Then as my seed takes root and you grow me a calf.”

Eyes rolled to the back of your head, drool wetting your bottom lip, as Ari’s cock sank in. The stretch felt endless, the sense of being so so full an overwhelming madness. Your body fell forward, elbows bending as your face pressed into the mirror. Your ragged breath left a foggy stain, your wet lips smudging the surface.

There was a long minute of lull - tense silence filled with your and Ari’s heavy breathing.

A short, merciful pause to let your body savor the feeling of being impaled and full.

Then, like a soap bubble, it burst.

Ari fucked you the way he promised, riding you hard. Your body floated there pliant, taking each brutal thrust and dripping for him. Your vision became hazy, but every few thrusts it cleared out and you caught the sight of your reflection. The big monster behind you: dark and sweaty, groaning and huffing as he took you; and your body so spent and boneless, but still vibrating with each sensation.

He pulled you back to him, wrapping an arm across your torso to hold you upright. It felt as if you sunk further down onto his dick. The angle causing your toes to curl and eliciting your cry.

Ari growled at you to hold onto his horns. When you did, your body arched, chest pushing forward. In the mirror, your reflection displayed a most lewd painting.

You watched the massive cock ease out of your small body, only to quickly stuff it full again.

When his groans turned into wild huffing, his hands clenching on your body as his hips sped up, you came for the third time. Less loud this time, but your walls cinched tightly. Your head fell onto Ari’s shoulder as you stared blankly at the ceiling, riding out the aftershocks.

Ari followed soon after, coming with a roar and driving deep into you.

Your consciousness felt cloudy, floating apart from your body. But it was the physical plane that pulled your mind back into the present, drawing your focus to the spreading warmth and heaviness.

Low in your belly.

You felt Ari’s cock throbbing inside of you; your walls clung to him desperately milking each drop of his cum. Spent that was flowing and flowing, filling your cunt and womb. Your insides bloated with it, stretching to accommodate the flood of seed.

Even in the mirror you could see the more prominent swell of your belly.

Ari’s gaze was focused on that, as well. One of his hands palmed the faint bulge, his fingers spreading wide and covering most of your belly.

It was so obscene.

A helpless human female taken and broken by the minotaur, dripping on his massive cock, her belly inflated with his cum.

And the dark glint in Ari’s eyes as he stared at your reflection promised more of it in your future. Like that, as well in other positions. With your belly finally swollen with his baby, your breasts heavy with milk, shiny gold piercings adorning your nipples.

You let out a tiny moan at the image your own mind provided, your pussy fluttering around the monster’s still twitching cock.

Ari hummed in response, a deep-chested sound that felt like a soothing vibration against your back. He moved after a longer moment; walking under the ceiling shower, while carrying you still impaled on his dick. He eased you down gently, groaning in displeasure as his cock slipped out of your wet heat.

Your legs felt too weak to hold you up, but Ari’s strong hands supported you. You buried your face in his chest as you felt the gush of fluids dripping out of your gaping hole. There was so much of it, you feared leaking for hours to come.

“Don’t worry, Poppy,” Ari started the warm water, “I’ll fill you plenty and often. And one day it will take. Then again. And again.”

A strained, hoarse sound left your lips. Yet you leaned into Ari’s embrace, sighing in contentment as he lathered your body with soap.

#scaretale universe #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson smut #chris evans smut #minotaur!ari levinson #to the victor go the spoils

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hannieween · 3 months ago

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lover | heartbreaker drabble | c.sc

You and Seungcheol finally get a chance to get away from finals, homework and your parents.

✧ pairing: choi seungcheol x female reader ✧ genre: fluff, smut (18+) ✧ aus: boyfriend seungcheol, uni student cheol, flashback drabble ✧ word count: 2.7k

✧ warnings under the cut!

✧ warnings: this drabble is connected to my heartbreaker series, so smut with plot, pussy whipped cheol, unprotected sex, pull out method [don't do this i do not recommend], big dick seungcheol, edging, cumming on skin, a little 🤏🏻 bit of breeding kink. pet names: angel, baby (hers) babe, baby, (his)

✧ disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers ONLY. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

✧ author's note: this kind of came out of nowhere so please excuse the grammar and spelling errors lmao

four years before

Going on a mini trip together for a weekend was exciting. To you, it implied lying to your parents to get out of town, forgetting about finals, about restless nights of studying but above all, being with your boyfriend, Choi Seungcheol.

You told your parents you were staying with your friends for a sleepover, which somehow worked. But in reality, you were going camping with your boyfriend, whom they still have some reserved opinions about.

Seungcheol and you had been dating for six months at this point. And everything felt like a dream to you. Granted, your parents do not like him, despite their lack of comments about him. But you were young, and you were in love.

He is closer to graduating, so he seems more relaxed about university than you. The idea of going camping was his, seeing that you were about to reach a breaking point due to stress and sleepless nights. His power to convince you to drop everything and go was more efficient than you thought.

The windows were rolled down, letting the hot spring summer air sweep inside. Your boyfriend kept one hand on the steering wheel, and the other was busy grabbing your hand, playing with your fingers. And occasionally, he would slide it on your bare thigh, inching his fingers up and then down.

You were hot on the face and neck, eager to jump on him. You were still exploring a lot about intimacy with him, but God, you wanted him. You wanted him so bad it was nearly embarrassing.

So, when you got to the campsite, it was nearly impossible to yank your gaze from his thick body. The way his biceps flex as he worked setting the tent up. He had refused to let you help him to do the heavy work. But every now and then, he would just point at something and say, "Would you pass me that, baby?" partly because he knew what you were thinking.

It was as though he could read your mind.

The sun set; you had a nice afternoon with him. So, when it is time to get inside the tent, you felt so fucking nervous to be spending the night in the same bed, or sleeping bag, with him.

Few were the nights you both had had the chance to sleep with him. Mostly just naps. But the first time you slept together was some five months ago, when you had your first time with him.

So now, your body was so close to his, to his warmth. You shared the same sleeping bag that could fit the both of you. Arm to arm with him, your knee brushing his. He shifted positions, lying on his side next to you.

"Do you have to sleep shirtless?"

Seungcheol cocked one eyebrow at the sound of your question. "I always sleep shirtless," he replied, a smile tugging at his lips, making its corners twitch. "I sleep with even less, actually," he chuckled, propping his head on his fist to look at your face fully. "Why, baby, do you want me to put something on?"

"No," you mumble quietly, starting to feel hot on the face and this time, it is not because of the hot weather. "It's just distracting," you said with an airy tone, you sighed.

But the reality is, this is your boyfriend, you just have to endure the weight of being so unbearably and embarrassingly attracted to him.

He finds your awkwardness cute. Granted, everything you do is cute to him. So, a smile breaks free on his face, almost knocking the air out of your lungs over his striking beauty. "Distracting, huh?" he mumbled, his eyes scanning the features of your face, as if trying to memorize the way that they look whenever you are flustered.

You only gave him a nod with your head, feeling shy. But you lifted a finger nonetheless, and started tracing a line over his collarbone. "I like you," you whispered, though that much was obvious. You have already told him you were in love with him.

"I know," he chuckled, trying not to shiver under your light touch that was now trailing down the middle of his chest, between his pecs. "I like you too," he said, his voice beginning to strain over the tension he was feeling in his body.

"I know," you said too, breathing out a giggle and the sound of it appeared to have an effect on him.

His gaze went soft and he could no longer try to hide the way your touch made him feel. So he leaned over, placing a hand on your cheek, making your sweet gaze lock with his before slotting his lips between your own.

"I love you," he emphasized, the emotions fluttering inside him making his voice a mere shaky whisper. It is the need he felt for you, to feel you whole and close to him, to make you his.

Seungcheol had never been in love. Not like this. Everything you did, made him a little crazy. "I love you," you mumbled back, the sweetness of your voice was what egged him on.

He dived for another kiss, this time a deeper one, his lips captured yours, moaning in your mouth when you parted your mouth slightly, giving him access to his tongue.

"Baby," you breathed, breaking the kiss only for a second because his lips are pressing on yours repeatedly. His hands slid from your cheek, his fingers now tangled in your hair. "Cheol," you called breathily.

"Yes?" he hummed, peeling away from your lips so he could see your face.

"Did you..." you start your question, but then, "Nevermind," you shook your head lightly.

But Seungcheol is not content with that, obviously. "What?" he mumbled. "Tell me," he insisted when you just shook your head in reply.

You know if there is something that drives him up the wall, is to wind him up and then leave him hanging.

"Tell me," he laughs lightly and your heart jumps at the sound. Then, he climbed on top of you, trying to tickle the answer out of you. "You bratty little thing," he gritted when you tried to fight his hands off.

But he continued poking at your ribs with his fingers, enjoying the sweet sound of your laughter and your squeals.

"Stop, stop," you wheezed, brushing a tear from the corner of your eye.

Seungcheol decided to let his joyful attack die. He placed a hand next to your head, leaning over to trap your lips with his own, giving you a chaste and quick kiss.

He was just about to slump back on his spot next to you when your hand sneaked on his nape, bringing him into a hot, rushed kiss.

Defenseless, he grunted in your mouth, his arm gave in, so his body fell on top of yours with a crash. "Baby," he chuckled, trying to lift his bodyweight off you.

His protests were quickly muddled by your needy lips, kissing him fervently. He was moaning into the kiss already, swept away quickly by the warmth radiating from your body. And when eased the lower half of his body on top of you, you could feel just how hard he had gotten with just teasing you.

Oh god. You thought. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

"Babe," you muttered, emboldened by the fact that he had given up to the make out session amply. And you know that it was very difficult to him to stop once he had started. "Did you bring condoms?" you blurt.

It was as though a bulb ignited over his head. "Is that what you wanted to ask me?" he breathed on your mouth.

"Did you?" you pressed, his chest was squeezing yours.

And you were convinced now that he could feel the frantic beating of your heart.

"No," he admitted, cursing himself silently because that was at the top of the list of things he did not want to forget.

"Baby," you reproached.

"I forgot," he chuckled, continuing to kiss you.

But you could tell that the fiery need is dissipating with each kiss. He kissed you slowly, but then he broke away, and was just about to roll over when, "Please, just a little bit longer?" you asked, holding his bicep to stop him from peeling away from you completely.

He placed his elbows next to your shoulders, so his forearms are framing your head. "You know how this goes, angel," he said softly, his fingers brushing away the hair from your face when you stay silent, so he kept going. "We kiss, we want more..." he sighed heavily, but out of the tight pressure gripping his heart.

You knew the idea was crazy, but goddamn, you want him. And you were unbearably horny. "You could pull out," you suggested, the anxiousness fluttering inside you making your tone waver.

Seungcheol stiffened for a second, and then let out an airy chuckle, thinking you were joking. But when you remained looking at him, nervous, his smile dropped. "Baby, are you serious?"

"I am," you reply, warmth tingling on your cheeks, your eyebrows knitted. "Please? Please, babe. I want to feel you."

Seungcheol scanned your face with his eyes, over and over again and that is how you knew, his mind was reeling.

He leaned over, placing soft and sweet kisses on the corners of your lips. "I could get you pregnant," he muttered gently. "What if pulling out doesn't work?"

"I don't care," you blurt, feeling an ecstatic shudder invade you.

"You don't care if I get you pregnant?" he laughed, amused by the thought that you were so needy that you were starting to be reckless. "Wanna have my babies?" he mused, his voice low again, raspy, and so dangerously sexy.

"Yes" you whispered shakily. "I want you."

And that is everything he needed.

He went all in, truth be told, he used to consider himself strong-willed. But that was before he met you, and fell on his knees for you, basically.

In seconds, he worked on you to tear your clothes off. You were so horny that the cool air of the night did not get to you. He ripped your clothes off, like a mad man about to ravage you whole.

He kissed every single inch of your body, loving the way you called out his name, the sounds of your moans. But it was the way you looked at him that drove him absolutely crazy.

Seungcheol made a trail of kisses from your lips, to your chest, kissing your nipples, cupping your breasts with his large hands while he teased your nipples with his tongue, making you moan salaciously.

Good thing you were in the middle of nowhere and chances were, completely and absolutely alone, you thought.

He laughed breathily against your skin, sneaking a look at your face before continuing to kiss your tummy, trailing down. Then kissed your belly button, making you flinch at the feeling of his wet lips against a very sensitive spot.

His hands gripped your thigh from the upper-front area, so you got a glimpse of his fingertips digging on the plush of your skin before lapping up the juices from your pussy.

You thrashed, crying out in pleasure as his tongue laves at the taste of you. Seungcheol moaned with you in delight, giving your folds broad strokes with his tongue.

In the months you have been his girlfriend, you have had few opportunities to do this, so everything is so very new to you. Every feeling, every touch feels electrifying.

Seungcheol loved it. He loved that you were discovering this world with him. He was your first everything, and he was so eager to explore his deepest, darkest fantasies with you. And he knew that you were eager to do too.

He loved the sound of your voice, the taste of your skin, your pussy. He loved eating you out so fucking much he wanted to do that for hours, to give you orgasm after orgasm. And one day, he would.

"Cheol," you call out breathily, tensing and shaking beneath him. He had started to tease your swollen clit with his tongue pointed against it, swirling around it.

That unfamiliar but needed burning sensation was pooling inside your belly, and Seungcheol knew it was closer because of the sounds of your moans, airy, so very lewd.

You succumbed to your orgasm fast, enjoying the sweet, sweet pleasure consume you in shockwaves. You thrashed, crying out his name loudly, fingers curling in his black, unruly hair.

Seungcheol wasted no time, getting to his knees as you pushed his sweats and boxers down to his mid-thigh, he leaned on top of your body, slotting himself between your shaky thighs.

You could not help it. Your eyes wandered down his frame. Seungcheol has a thick body. Thick thighs, thigh biceps, thick neck. You swallowed hard, spotting his cock, fully hard, his cockhead glossy with precum.

He saw the needy look in your eyes, you want more, he realized. But he decided to stop and tease you a little, grabbing his thick, veiny cock, gliding the tip between your folds, nudging your engorged clit.

You winced and moaned, your hands flying to his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him.

"Look at me, baby," he muttered, his voice raw in need.

And you do. You looked at his eyes, he pressed his chest against yours before pushing his cock inside you. The warmth and wetness made him moan at once, his mouth parting and you saw his self-control dissipating as he started thrusting his cock inside you.

But he rolled his hips tortuously at a slow, calculated pace. Still looking in your eyes, enjoying the way your body trembled beneath him.

"Cheol," you called out breathily.

Seungcheol was going insane, he knows there is no way he could last long like this. "Fuck, you feel so good," he gasps.

"Seungcheol." you insisted, your teary eyes searching his face. "I think–I'm going to come," you gasped, closing your eyes and stirred on the sleeping bag, trying to resist the fiery waves rippling through your body.

Seungcheol moaned, unable to look away as you came on his cock. Your orgasm came fast, and hard. But he kept going, pushing into you desperately now.

"God, fuck," he gasped, dropping his head on your shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut. "Fuck!" he gritted, pulling out of you in a split-second.

You were both breathing hard against each other, but Seungcheol is shaking, rigid, trying with all of his might to not come. He decided to force himself to get you to your high at least one more time.

You waited, still shaking with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You felt almost embarrassed for coming five seconds after he went inside you.

But he recuperated quickly, positioning himself between your legs again, determined to keep fucking you raw. He was driven insane by the sounds of your moans, by the way you trembled and looked at him.

He edged himself two more times, overstimming himself. What did it was to think that one day, he might just keep fucking you full of his cum, and get you pregnant. He could no longer contain himself, pulling out of you to pump his throbbing cock with his fist, groaning loudly as spurts of warm cum land on your tummy.

He breathed slowly, trying to get his heart rate down. He looked at the mess on your tummy, the beads of white, sticky cum on your lower abdomen. Then, he looked at your face, thinking of apologizing.

But instead, he spotted the fascination plastered on your face, you were wide eyed, lips glossy, skin dewy in sweat. You like this, he realized. And that might have sent him into a frenzy.

"So," he begins, his breathing still ragged. "You wanna have my babies?" he smiled.

✧ author's note: this is not proofread i'm sorry. if there are some fluctuations between verb tenses, that is because i typed this in a mad state at @cvntrlseecvntrlvee who is the sole culprit of my seungcheol brain rot.

anyway,

✧ STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 5 ✧ JOIN MY TAGLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTERS | BUY ME A COFFEE? (●'◡'●)

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bbsmuts · 7 months ago

Text

Summer Getaway ft. EVERGLOW Yiren

A/N: This is a pitch I got from a friend outside of Tumblr, and it took me a long time to write since I’ve been working and planning the wedding, sorry about that. I have no doubt that this will become second-to if not more popular than Field Trip. I don’t have a lot to say about it so as not to spoil anything, so here we go.

-상훈

Length: 7.33k

Possible TW: Spanking, dom/sub kink

Tags: Spanking, choking, domination, dom/sub kink, drunk sex, sir kink

It had been a long senior year at Hanyang University. Very, very long.

With a major in psychology, a minor in health studies, and a hopeless career path, classes had been hard. I hadn’t even had my best friend, Yiren, in classes with me.

Yiren and I were more than friends. We had been dating for a little more than nine months, but she was still my best friend. She was not only exactly the type of girl I was interested in, but the exact type of friend I wanted to keep close. It had been with great disappointment that I had found out that my girlfriend would not be in classes with me at the beginning of the year. She would have been the only way psychology would be in any way interesting.

But now the year was over. A buddy of mine had offered me and Yiren his mountain cabin for the summer. He wasn’t going to be using it, he and his family were on vacation, so he would be touring Europe with his parents and sister.

The cabin, we found out when we arrived there, was a palatial, stone brick château with three stories and a balcony on the second. The balcony overhung the door, two large stone pillars supporting the structure. It had an very antiquated feel to it, though the sound structure still held up. My friend had told me it was over 200 years old, which I believed from the look of it. Whether it was 2 years old or 2000 though, I was happy to be here.

“It looks nice, doesn’t it oppa?” Yiren asked, arms wrapped around my arm, as we stood there and surveyed the cabin.

“Yeah, it does. Old, but very nice.”

“Three stories…wow.” She marveled at the sheer height of the place. “That's more than my house has. Come on, let's go inside.”

I slid the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door to reveal the interior.

It gave a very cozy, log-cabin-ish vibe. The blinds were shut, allowing very little daylight in. The lamps had turned on the moment we entered, dimming slightly once we shut the door. Plush rugs covered just about every square inch of the vast living room, where soft chintz armchairs and smooth leather couches sat, pillows arranged invitingly. The fireplace could have allowed three grown men ample sitting space, and the overhanging limestone mantle was decorated with ornate wood carvings. Mounted on the wall just above the mantle was the biggest TV I had ever seen, at least 85 inches across.

To the left of the fireplace was a bathroom, through the open door of which I caught a glimpse of a gold-rimmed mirror.

The rather titanic kitchen was a chef’s dream; the walls were bedecked with cabinets, drawers, and shelves full of cooking equipment. Two large ovens with stovetops sat alongside a dishwasher, and on top of its counter were a couple of microwave ovens. A kettle, coffee maker, waffle iron, iron griddle, and a shelf of teas, coffees, hot chocolates and various other drink mixes sat along another. Four more long shelves along the opposite wall held just about every kind of alcohol I could have asked for; bottles of whiskey, vodka, rum, gin, various liqueurs (fruit flavors like coconut and orange), tequila, port, Hennessy, and margarita sat assorted on them. Another, smaller shelf held cooking sherry, brandy, and bourbon. A wine rack nearby held several bottles and, I was surprised to see, one bottle each of Petrus 2012 (costs about $30k in real life), Armand Rousseau Chambertin Grand Cru ($19k), Versos Amontillado ($13k) and Vieux Chateau Certan Pomerol ($6k).

“Wow,” I said, taking out the Petrus and examining it. “I guess his family is richer than we thought.”

“What makes you say that?” Yiren asked while looking at the coconut liqueur.

“The fact that they have a bottle of wine in here that costs about thirty thousand dollars, and a few other expensive ones.”

“Huh, make sense.”

After looking into the pantry, which was the size of a walk-in closet and had enough food to feed a small town, we made our way to the staircase to upstairs. Six bedrooms took up this floor. We went straight to the master, which was as large as a neighborhood cul-de-sac.

The bed’s size could be compared to that of a midieval portcullis, with a deluxe king size mattress and nightstands on either side. A few dozen pillows were laid delicately across it, each with its own gold-laced pillowcase. An intricately carved wooden frame with a canopy structure and drapes held up the mattress. A pair of French doors were built in on the opposite wall from the door, which led out to the balcony, which spanned about twenty feet. Gorgeous scenery was what I laid my eyes on when I looked through the doors, a great view of the surrounding mountains and forest. The bathroom was off to the left from the entrance and Yiren made a beeline for it the moment we entered the room.

I followed her inside and was stunned. The same gold-framed mirror stretched across the wall, with three sinks and a vanity under it. White LEDs rimmed it, lighting up the bathroom when Yiren walked in.

“Oooh!” She squealed, looking around excitedly. I knew well by this point that the bathroom was her favorite and most valued part of a house, so it was always what she looked at with the most judgement. But she found nothing to criticize about this one, and looked very pleased to have access to it for the next two months.

“Like it?” I inquired, amused at her expression. “I’d say it’s pretty impressive.”

“Tell your friend I love it!” She said, positively radiating joy and excitement. “This is amazing!”

She ran to me and hugged me, then went to look around again.

I took a look into one of the drawers below the mirror and saw a vast array of hair and skin care products, no wonder my friend had good skin and hair.

Beyond the mirror space, there was the tub, which she was already scrutinizing. It held the same old feel with the weathered stone slabs making up the rim, but the pristinely white jacuzzi tub looked like it had been crafted yesterday. Bordering the bathtub was a large glass shower, with a rainfall showerhead on the ceiling and a nozzle clipped to the wall just below it, with multiple different kinds of shampoo, body wash, shower gel, and conditioner. A closet was off to the left of the door into the room, and after appraising the tub and shower we made our way to it. It was as big as the kitchen downstairs, and that was saying something. Multiple racks full of clothes were set into their pole grooves, and several racks of shoes rested on the floor. They weren’t ours, so we didn’t mess with them.

The floor above that was just one enormous game room. Pool, air hockey, foosball, mini golf, and several others were strewn around. A walled-off area seemed to be designated to archery and airsoft target practice, something I approved of. Another bathroom was at the far end, something I didn’t need to explore again. After looking around for a bit, we went back to my car to unload our baggage.

The cabin was about ten miles from any kind of civilization, which made for a nice and secluded area for a summer getaway, but it would be a bit of a pain in the ass driving back and forth through the unpaved roadway to the nearest town. But we had brought food, and there was food in the house, so we were fine for the time being.

“Oppa?”

I heard Yiren’s voice call from upstairs a while later.

“Yeah?” I called back.

“Are you up for a hike? I hear they have great trails up here.”

“Sure, I’m down.”

I got up off the couch and went up there to see her.

“You did bring the hiking boots, didn’t you?” She asked, seeing me upstairs.

“Yes, of course. We can’t go to a mountain lodge without hiking boots.”

“True. Hold on for a minute, I have to change.”

She disappeared into the master bedroom and the sounds of rustling clothes could be heard from inside. I leaned my head over a bit to see past the doorway and found her raised eyebrows staring back at me while she slipped off her jeans, taking her panties with them.

“Peeping, oppa?” Her playful voice sounded as she turned away to her bag, and I would have challenged a Buckingham Palace guard not to look as she bent over slightly to retrieve her leggings.

I walked slowly into the room where she was rummaging in her suitcase and stopped behind her as she straightened up, leggings in hand, and placed my hands on her waist. She leaned backwards into my touch and sighed as I stroked her hips.

“Oppa, don’t tease me…”

I paid this no attention and moved my hands lower, sliding my palms over her naked thighs.

“Stop it, we’re going to hike, wait until later.”

Reluctantly, I paid her some heed and went to the dresser to get my bag and keys while she got dressed. And thus, a few short minutes of driving later, we arrived at the entrance to the trail.

…

The trail was nice and peaceful, with flat paths and beautiful scenery. It was rather tranquil, with the occasional squirrel or chipmunk darting across the rocky path in front of us. But of course, Yiren couldn’t let me enjoy the little things like that, she had to wear something skintight on both halves, and had to walk in front of me, which distracted me from any of the scenery.

So it was with slightly exerted legs and a straining bulge that I completed the trail, a fact Yiren was perfectly aware of.

Mind almost numb with lust by the time we got back into the care due to her deliberately dropping her phone and bending over to pick it up, I started the engine of my car and drove away toward the cabin.

I was again surprised by its immense size even though I had seen it an hour previously. We walked to the door, unlocked and opened it, and that was as much time as Yiren needed to latch onto me the moment I closed the door.

I turned around from the door and she was instantly there, wrapping her arms around my head and pulling me into a deep kiss. A moan sounded from her as my tongue sought entrance into her mouth, and I pulled her by the hips closer, so she could feel the bulge in my jeans. She started grinding herself against it, still kissing me with intense passion.

I half-carried her up the stairs to the bedroom and set her down on the mattress, where she laid on her back with her legs spread enticingly, eyes glittering with lust.

After shutting the drapes around the bed, I removed my shirt and saw her bite her lip at the sight of me shirtless, a fact I took heed of and tossed my shirt elsewhere, settling my hips between her thighs. I made sure she could acutely feel the tent in my pants against her, and she definitely did feel it.

Her breaths became shorter and more frequent, a sure sign of growing neediness. Her hips started moving of their own accord, grinding up against me. I felt this and got off her.

I hooked my thumbs under the waistbands of my jeans and boxers and pulled them off, finally freeing my cock from its denim prison, while she quickly removed her own clothes in my peripheral vision. She looked at me once I straightened up, bit her lip again, and her hand sneaked along her waist towards her pussy.

I was amazed for the millionth time by the fact that she had a body like a Greek goddess. To verbally describe the intensity of the lust her body induced would have been impossible.

I stepped forward and grabbed her hand, tearing it away from her leaking pussy, replacing the fingers with my tongue.

Her reaction was immediate. Her hands shot to my head and pulled, and she gave a short cry every time my tongue penetrated her. I targeted the spots I knew would pleasure her the most.

“Yes, fuck!” Her mouth was wide open and she was taking shallow breaths, giving short moans and gasps on the exhale. “Yes, don’t stop oppa it feels so good!”

I pressed by thumb to her clit while I continued the circular swiping motion with my tongue, which was quite effective to say the least. Her cries became sharper, her breaths more shallow, all building up to her climax.

“I’m gonna cum oppa, keep going, I’m cumming! AHH!”

How turned on I was could not have been described in words as her juices gushed out, into my mouth, and over my face. Her hands trembled as they clutched at my hair, and she had a small out-of-body experience as the pleasure of a second orgasm briefly took her to another realm of consciousness. I was in heaven right along with her, nothing was more satisfying that pleasuring her to an orgasm.

When she came back to earth I had gotten up, dried my face, and laid down on the bed beside her. The section of sheet under her lower half was soaked, as were her thighs and pussy. Her eyes were unfocused and dreamy, her chest heaved while her extremities still trembled.

“Oppa…”

She had turned her head towards me and I could almost see the hearts in her eyes as she looked at me.

“That was…so good…”

She spoke each phrase between breaths. If she thought what I had just done effortlessly was good, she had yet to feel what would happen when I was pounding her and completely abandoning any restraint.

I turned myself towards her and put my arms around her, though the effect was kind of ruined by my stiff cock poking her in the thigh, which made her giggle. She turned over and maneuvered down between my legs, placing her hands on my thighs as she stared fixedly at my length like a lion looks at its dinner, and I could tell she was about to go to town.

“I’m really hungry oppa,” she purred deviously, each word laced with teasing, while her hands performed slow strokes over my length, “I think I need to be fed, hmm?”

I took the cue and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her lips down over my cock, and then everything else disappeared. Her lips parted and then slid smoothly over my shaft, a fresh coat of saliva washing over me.

“Fuuuck,” I groaned, unable to contain the immediate pleasure that filled me. “Fuck Yiren, that feels amazing!”

Each bob of her head made its way closer to my base, and she got a little more than three quarters before she started gagging. She moaned, gasped, gagged, and choked, but she didn’t give herself a break, even for a moment. She was hungry, and I was the only thing that could sate her appetite. Hearing my moans, she upped her speed. Her tongue slid over the underside of my cock, stretching out to flick my balls, while she forced her own head further down on me. My entire length was lodged inside her mouth and throat, and I felt myself very quickly nearing a climax.

“You’re going to make me cum,” I panted, getting even more turned on by her moans and small ‘mmm’s of satisfaction. “I’m gonna fucking cum down your throat, keep doing that!”

She took heed of this and slid her head all the way down my cock once more and held there, and with an almighty groan and a bed-rattling thrust of my hips I buried myself in her throat and spurted my load down it, a fact she was very pleased with. She bobbed her head rapidly, throating my cock a final few times and swallowing every single drop. And she couldn’t resist holding her head down on my now hypersensitive rod for another few seconds, simply loving the feeling of having her throat penetrated.

I lost count of the seconds she held herself there, I wasn’t really paying attention. Twenty, thirty, forty, somewhere around forty-five I lost count, and then she pulled up, dislodging me from her mouth and gasping for some much-needed oxygen, though her face showed pure enjoyment.

She dragged herself up the bed and settled next to me, sighing contentedly.

“I love you oppa.”

I drew her closer under the thoroughly stained blanket with one arm, using the other to run my fingers through her hair.

“I love you too, Yiren. Always.”

I could practically hear her purring as the warmth from my body emanated off me, and she snuggled in close, planting a small kiss on my jaw. I turned my head to receive and respond to her second kiss, and put my hand around her head.

Before I knew it, she was on top of me and we were kissing passionately, soft moans leaving her mouth as our tongues met. I found my cock returning to full life, and she most assuredly did, since her already-wet pussy was handily positioned right above it.

I flipped her over and pressed myself down on her. My tip rubbed against her sensitive folds, causing her to give tiny sighs of pleasure.

And then I pushed into her tight warmth. The insane tightness of her walls squeezing every part of my shaft was making me see stars, and there was quite a lot of resistance as I determinedly pushed inside her.

She moaned as I bottomed out inside her, my tip brushing spots inside her that I didn’t even know existed at that depth.

“Fuck me oppa.”

That was my cue to begin my thrusts, quickly increasing the speed and intensity of them. I landed a slap on her jiggling ass and immediately her pussy clenched around me and she cried out. I timed my spanks with each thrust of my hips, and her various obscenities also fell in rhythm.

“Oh - god - fuck - yes!” She said, each word coming out in time with the spanks. “Feels - so - good - fuck!”

I took her ponytail in my hand and pulled back, forcing her face up, her moans becoming higher in pitch at my pulling. Her back bent up so she was almost kneeling as I fucked her, and with my other hand I paused the spanks and reached around to squeeze her breasts, only heightening her arousal. Her hands gripped the hand caressing her chest.

“Please oppa, fuck me harder,” Yiren half-whispered, which I knew to be a sign that she was nearing an orgasm. “Your cock is so deep in me, it feels so good!”

I did as she asked and fucked her harder, abandoning all restraint as I slammed my hips into hers, the sounds of skin on skin getting louder as my hips met her ass. It was becoming difficult to resist the hypnotic jiggle of her ass and the way her pussy was exquisitely gripping my cock, massaging as I pistoned in and out. I was about to cum, as I realized it, and there was nothing I could do about that now.

And then, before I knew it:

“So fucking good, yes! Fuck oppa I’m cumming, FUCK!”

“Shit, I’m cumming as well, fucking take it all!”

We met our orgasms at the same time, sharing that moment of bliss together. Her juices splattered my legs as they sprayed out, accompanied by her scream of pleasure, always reserved for just such a moment of satisfaction. The feeling was pervading up my entire body, immense pleasure before my actual release. Yiren gasped twice and moaned quietly at the deluge of hot cum that flooded her tight pussy. I kept fucking her at a slower pace, now the only things audible were the wet slaps of our skin and her occasional murmured expressions, as she rested somewhere between this bed and heaven itself.

“So good…feels so…feels so good…ohh yes just like that…”

I got the impression from what she was saying that she was very near unconsciousness. It wouldn’t surprise me, since she had just had a very intense orgasm. I pulled out of her with a lewd squelch and a large quantity of cum rushed out of her.

“Ahhh…ohh yes…I love you oppa…”

I settled in front of her as she flopped over onto her side, breathing very heavily. I rubbed her back as she moved close, nimbly stroking all the spots I knew she loved, and she purred into my neck.

“I love you too, baby.”

…

I got up a while later, put on my clothes, and after giving the half-asleep Yiren a kiss, I went up to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. It was a quality that especially attracted her to me, the fact that I could cook, and well. She always said that a man who could cook was a man who wouldn’t have trouble finding women.

Jjajangmyeon was a personal favorite of both of ours, and so it was what I started making. I was nearly finished when the sound of the bedroom door opening sounded behind me and she entered the room wrapped in a blanket, yawning.

“Did you sleep?” I asked, industriously stirring the noodles.

“Yes.” She yawned again. “For a little bit.”

“Good,” I replied, “because you’re not going to be doing much of it tonight.”

She giggled and peered into the pot.

“Jjajangmyeon?”

“Indeed.” I put the spatula down and turned to her. “Just how we both like it.”

She hugged me, the top of her head barely brushing my chin.

“Aww oppa you didn’t have to, I could have done it.”

I put my arms around her shoulders and pulled her into a tighter embrace.

“I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

Yiren hugged me tighter and buried her face in my shirt, and I could feel her smile against my chest.

“I love it when you do this.”

Her words warmed my heart, and I smiled as well.

“I do it all the time, you’d think some of the novelty would be lost.

She snorted. “Well, it hasn’t.”

I turned back to the wok and stirred my stir fry, my arm still around her shoulders.

“What do you say we pop open some of that Hennessy after dinner?”

“Sounds good to me. That stuff hits hard, though.”

“Precisely.” I said. “We might not even have to use a lot.”

“That looks like it’s done.” She said, nodding at the pot of noodles.

“I’m aware.” I replied. “Would you get out the bowls?”

She got out the bowls and two pairs of chopsticks as I turned off the fire on the stovetop. I dragged the noodles out of the pot and into the bowls and spooned the sauce onto them. She took them to the table and set up two chairs across from each other while I got out a bottle of choice Pinot Noir from the rack along with two glasses.

“Wow, you really are trying to get drunk, aren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Not really, but I’m not trying not to, if you catch my drift.”

She just smirked, absolutely catching my drift and knowing the outcome. I sat down after pouring the wine and setting the glasses down in our places.

Dinner passed quickly. The bowls had been cleared fairly quickly. I had sipped my wine away already, but Yiren always left hers to sit out for a while, the reason for which I never knew.

By the time she picked her glass back up I had poured myself some water as a beforehand countermeasure to the many measures of Hennessy we would be sharing.

While I was thinking about it I got up and grabbed the bottle of Hennessy, setting it down on the table.

“Cheers,” she said happily, raising her glass. I raised mine and then drank from it as she followed suit.

“Good choice.” She said, after a moment of consideration. “Very nice hints of different flavors.”

“I know,” I said, taking another mouthful of water. “Pinot Noir is always good. But my friend imports his wine from places France and Spain and Italy, places which do wine the right way.”

“Speaking of your friend, where is he on vacation?”

“In Switzerland right now, but in a few days he’ll be somewhere else in Europe, I don’t know. I’d have to ask him.”

She took another small sip of wine before speaking again.

“Well, I can truthfully say that there’s no place I’d rather be then right here with you.”

She leaned across the small table and poked me in the chest, a playful smile gracing her lips. I caught her hand before she could draw it away and pulled her into a kiss. Her body seemed to relax into it, and a slightly muffled sigh was audible. When we broke the kiss off and sat back down, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were alive with desire.

“Damn, we haven’t even started drinking yet and you’re already losing it.”

Yiren blushed harder at my sentence. She said nothing, but something changed in her expression. She got up from her seat, abandoning her wine, and strode around the table to me. The next thing I knew, she was sitting in my lap, hands pulling my face towards hers. She moaned as her lips locked with mine, tongue entering my mouth, meeting with my own.

She pulled away, looking at me with the dim-ish light dancing in her eyes, a deep blush spread across her cheeks.

“How about that Hennessy now, huh?” She said.

I reached for the bottle and unscrewed the top, as she turned to the side. I took a healthy swig of it myself before reaching for the shotglasses. The alcohol burned in my throat as it went down and I took a deep breath in.

We both downed a shot together. She coughed and winced as she swallowed, but nodded when I looked concernedly at her.

"I'm alright."

She reached for her second shot and swallowed it with me.

"How quick does this stuff kick in?" She asked as the glasses were once again refilled.

"Quickly."

After successfully downing three shots and of the liquor, we sat back and waited on the couch. I had made the mistake of impatience while drinking once before, and it was not going to happen again.

And then it hit.

And when it hit, it hit hard.

"Whoa," I slurred as the room started spinning before my eyes, "Yiren, you feeling it?"

She gave a tipsy giggle and fell forward, still laughing.

"I dunno, I've never been drunk bfore..."

Through the haze of drunken stupor I was seeing, I looked down and saw her ass, so sexy and perfectly positioned...she was even bent over my lap, too...I had no chance of resisting the urge.

"Ah!" She yelped as I slapped her ass, then giggled again. "Oppa..."

"More..."

I gladly complied, landing more punishing smacks on her ass. With each spank she tensed and gave a small, cute cry.

Normally my dominant side stayed at a minimum, but I had to admit to myself that in my drunk state it was starting to take over my brain. I found myself increasing the intensity of my smacks and taking pleasure in it, causing her cries to rise in volume quickly.

"Nngh yes, keep spanking me oppa!" She whimpered, swiftly approaching her peak. "Ah! Fuck yes, keep doing that!"

I kept spanking her and reached around to caress her breast with my other hand. Her moans kept building until finally she orgasmed with a squeal, the crotch of her shorts becoming very wet.

Yiren took quick, shallow breaths to calm down after cumming, and when she had sufficiently recovered she rolled over on my legs to face me.

"That was fun oppa, we should go to the bedroom."

I blinked hard. "Shit, I dunno if I can walk."

She scoffed. "Come on, let's go."

I clumsily got up off the couch and weaved my way up the stairs and to the bedroom, stumbling three times on the way there. I dimmed the lights as I entered, then fell forward onto the bed, rolling over and scooting up to let my head rest on the pillow. My shirt was going to be an unnecessary accessory once she got up here, so I removed it and tossed it aside.

She entered the bed and slid the drapes shut behind her, wearing only her soaked shorts, panties, and a bra. I was already hard from the light spanking I had given her, but the mere sight of her sexy, half-naked body was enough to double my stiffness.

She clambered across the bed and straddled me, leaning down to kiss me. I accepted it only for a second, then gripped her hips and rolled over, so I was on top.

I kissed her more aggressively now, pressing my tongue against her lips to gain entry. She eventually gave in, but we both knew she was tantalizing herself by holding out, she wanted me. She gave a tiny sigh of pleasure.

I broke off the kiss and left her blushing and panting, eyes sparkling.

"God, you're so sexy when you're drunk." She murmured to me, holding my face with both hands.

"Really?" I said, locking eyes with her. "Then maybe I should do it more often."

Normally and drunkenly, Yiren's submissive side stayed at a minimum. It balanced with her enjoyment of being in control for a pretty neutral attitude. But I could see in her deep brown eyes a need. Whether she could feel it or not, I could tell that she needed to be dominated, badly.

"Hello?" Her voice said from a long way off, the sound trying desperately to be heard over the pounding of my own heart in my ears. "You gonna do something? Or will I have to do it myself?"

She was baiting me, and I knew it. Trying to spur me into fucking her. But it wasn't going to happen yet.

"Yeah, I'm gonna do something." I growled. "And you're gonna take it, like it or not."

A shudder ran through her at my words, but she maintained her cocky, playful attitude.

"Ooh, he's getting feisty. Someone's a little drunk."

I could feel annoyance rising at her words, which was exactly what she wanted, of course. She observed me with satisfaction.

"Okay, that's it." I got off her, opened the drapes, and stood up, removing my jeans and boxers. She automatically got off the bed and knelt in front of me as I sat on the edge of it, knowing my intention. I wasted no time in grabbing her hair and forming it into a ponytail in my hand, grasping none too lightly. She gasped at my sudden roughness, and I used the opportunity of her mouth already being open to shove my cock into it.

She choked as my tip poked the back of her throat, but didn't resist as I slowly pushed further in, bringing her face to the base. She gagged, and I pulled her head back by the ponytail before slamming my hips into it again, driving my length down her throat. Over and over I brought her face back before plunging it back down, spearing her throat with my cock.

Tears gathered in her eyes when she choked, gagging obscenely on my dick. After a bit she started moving by herself, her neck on autopilot, ramming her face into my crotch. Saliva spilled down her face and dripped off her messy chin to her bra-clad breasts below. Light mascara streaks tracked down her face, joining the mess at her lips.

Yiren brought her head down one more time and held it there for a second, a choking sound resounding, before pulling off, gasping and breathing heavily. She looked at me, panting, and I felt the promise of an orgasm drifting away.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I want you to cum inside me."

I reached forward and lifted her onto the bed, setting her down none too gently on her back. I held my hand on her throat, choking her, not enough to cause damage.

She caught her breath at the rough treatment, clearly turned on. But I wasn't going to hold off on that domination.

"You want?" I breathed into her face, her pupils dilating in arousal. "Maybe you need a reminder of who's in charge."

She said nothing, but I could see a subtle change in her expression. I grabbed the waistband of her shorts and panties and pulled them over her slender legs and off her feet. Her pussy was already soaked and shining with arousal.

Yiren, still keeping up her cocky demeanor, gave a huge fake yawn and smirked cheekily. I narrowed my eyes and then reached up and tore the bra off her, making her yelp. However overweening she was acting, I could see in her face a desire to be dominated. And that was a desire I was more than willing to satisfy.

I crawled forward, lifted her legs up, and sheathed myself to the root inside her tight, wet pussy. "Fuck!" She cried out as I pushed into her. She moaned and gasped when I bottomed out inside her, firmly prodding her cervix. Her quick, high-pitched breaths heightened my arousal.

My brain was far too cloudy to control my desire, so my thrusts were fast and rough. I relentlessly pounded her, not holding back a bit and not sorry at all. I gave her ass quick smacks randomly every few thrusts, making her yelp every single time.

Her brows contracted and turned up, and her mouth stayed slightly open, her face falling into that angelic expression of bliss that never failed to make me shiver in pleasure myself.

"Oh - fuck - yes - harder - please!" She whimpered in time with my strokes. I lowered my face to her ear.

"Now remind me," I growled, her moans filling my own ears, "who's in charge?"

She barely managed to get the words out inbetween her cries. "You oppa! You're in charge! I belong to you!"

I gave her ass a hard slap, somewhat dissatisfied with her answer. "Then say it right, slut."

"I'm yours, sir!" She cried again, "I belong to you only!"

"Good girl." I said in a low voice, and I felt her shiver under me. I slowed my thrusts to a calmer pace, more to tantalize her than anything else. She was near an orgasm, I could tell, so I kept the strokes at a steady pace with a lot of force.

"Sir, please," She begged, her juices leaking out around me, clearly turned on by my dominance, "Fuck me harder, make me cum for you." Cleverly worded so as to make it like this was for me, not for her. I was not, even in my drunk-as-fuck state, going to fall for that.

"Why would I do that?" I said to her dismay, evilly grinning. "You were such a bad girl earlier, why should I reward you?"

"I'm sorry, sir!" She said breathlessly, her eyes full of desperation. "I'm sorry I was bad! Please, sir, fuck me and make me cum!"

I couldn't really help but give in, since my libido was screaming at me. So I picked up the pace and resumed my uncontrolled plowing of her tight cunt, the resistance smoothed somewhat by the enormous amounts of slick she was producing.

With every subsequent thrust, her moans became louder snd her words dirtier as I brought her nearer to her peak.

"Mmhh yes sir, fuck me harder! It's so good, fuck! I'm gonna cum for you sir!"

I pushed myself up from my elbows and held a hand to her neck, pushing down just enough to make her enjoy it. She took a sharp breath and opened her eyes, pupils dilated.

"Shut the fuck up and take it, slut," I said, groaning despite myself.

"Yes, sir," she gasped, moaning, as I pushed deeper. "Oh fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

She wasn't lying. Her voice died momentarily as her eyes rolled into her head and she bucked her hips up into me, a gush of cum spraying my abdomen. She found her voice after a second, and let out a short, loud "ah", mouth open. Her hips continued their motion seemingly independent of her pleasure-addled brain.

Her moans subsided, and an idea came to me. I reluctantly pulled out of her, a lewd squelch sounding. She lay there, unmoving, eyes open and practically heart-pupiled. I walked to the french doors leading to thr balcony and opened them, a rush of cool night air sweeping over me.

Yiren lifted her head slightly at the sudden cool draft and pushed herself up with slightly trembling arms. I went back to the bed and lifted her off it easily, then set her down on her front on the soft white couch oustide. She gave a tiny gasp as a breeze of cool air moved over her naked pussy.

"Sir...

"Fuck me again..."

I was still rock hard despite the cool air, so I climbed onto the couch with her. Her head was laying sideways towards the dark scenery, her arms were stretched out in front of her, and her ass was sticking up in the air, perfectly positioned for me to fuck.

I slid my cock back into her wet heat, drawing a languid whimper from her mouth and clenching my jaw with a groan. I started off slow, with gentle, even thrusts, Yiren moaning softly beneath me.

"Mmm fuck yes you're so deep in me oppa..."

I kicked the pace up a little and started thrusting faster and harder, quickly turning her moans to cries as I pounded her tight pussy.

"Mmhh fuck! Pound me harder please sir! Pound my little pussy! So good, fuck, yes yes please harder! So fucking big inside me, yes! Nghh oh god yes, use me, fuck!"

Her words flicking every arousal switch in my brain to 'on', I went even faster, giving it everything I had to keep pushing into her. Beads of sweat formed at my hairline at the effort. Yiren was reduced to a mewling, whimpering, moaning mess, unable to form coherent words in her pleasure. I slapped her ass hard and she cried out.

"Please - sir - harder! Oh - yes - slap me - sir!"

I spanked her harder and she arched her back, a small yelp escaping her with every thrust I gave. Pleasure was building in my lower abdomen like resistance from a compressed spring, my abs and obliques tensing in preparation.

"Yes sir, give it to me! Fuck me harder please! Nghh yes, I'm gonna - I'm gonna - fuck, I'm cumming sir!"

"Fuck!" I groaned, as she gave a particularly sexy cry that sent shivers down my spine, "Yiren baby I'm gonna fucking cum!"

"Yes - please - sir!" She managed through her high-pitched whines of bliss. This, combined with her usage of "sir", was all the initiative I needed to cum inside her.

"Oh my god yes, FUCK!" I almost roared, slamming my hips into hers one last time, burying my cock so deep inside her that it touched her cervix again and blasting her insides with hot cum. My release triggered hers, and she orgasmed again with a scream, spraying her cum out onto me.

I rolled over and off her, sliding out to let a large amount of cum come spilling out of her. She gave another soft moan and then rolled over to face me. I pulled her closer and her face and body were very hot despite the 6°C temperature outside.

"So good... oppa I love you..."

"I love you too, baby."

...

I must have fallen asleep, since when I awoke it was about 8 o'clock in the morning, judging by the sun's position. Yiren was snoozing peacefully beside me. As I slowly returned to a waking state I realized that I was stiffer than a wood plank again. Yiren's sleeping body was looking incredibly sexy, and I was entirely unable to control my sudden desire. I pulled her closer to me and pushed into her again, quietly groaning. She gave a soft moan in her sleep. I started very slowly, but even this was enough to stir her from her slumber. She breathed in deeply and shifted slightly, and I continued my thrusts, making her whine faintly. She steadily returned to conciousness, moaning more and tightening around me.

"Oppa?"

"Yes, baby," I groaned through gritted teeth, listening to her soft mewls of satisfaction. "Oh, fuck..."

Her eyes opened partially, looking lazily out at the trees, and then they closed and her eyebrows contracted upwards as I reached around and started rubbing her clit, making her gasp and whimper.

"A-ah...oh yes, k-keep doing that..."

Her head leaned back into my collarbone and I could smell vanilla in her soft hair. I grabbed her hips and slammed mine into them, driving my cock deep inside her and making her cry a loud "ah".

"Ohh yes yes yes, please keep going, I'm gonna fucking cum again, don't stop oppa!"

I reached and put my hand around her slim neck, squeezing lightly, just enough to give her the sensation I knew she liked. Her intonations of pleasure became unintelligible.

"Yes - fuck - harder - oppa - mmm yes - so good!"

"Fuck, you like that baby?" I squeezed her neck harder.

"Ah! Yes, sir! I love it! Fuck my little pussy harder! Use me! Your cock is so big, so deep inside me sir!"

"Yiren, I'm gonna cum baby," I gasped, moaning in her ear, and I felt her shiver in arousal under me.

"Cum inside me, sir," Yiren panted, arching her back into me. Her hands went to her own breasts, squeezing and massaging, pleasuring her to greater heights. Her eyes closed once more and she let out a shriek of pleasure and a long moan as sbe squirted on me again, arms and legs trembling uncontrollably as her mind whited out.

I briefly lost touch with reality as my own mind was flooded with sensation and I released inside her again. My body shuddered in pleasure and I let out a few swears through gritted teeth, thrusting my way through my orgasm. Yiren gasped and moaned throughout it, loving the feeling of warmth pouring into her.

My muscles relaxed, and I slipped out of her as we both settled down again, panting and satisfied. It was a few minutes before she spoke again.

"Oppa?"

"Yiren, baby?"

She sighed contentedly. "I love you."

"I love you too." I replied, planting a row of kisses on her neck.

"You know what I think oppa?"

"What's that, babe?"

She turned over and faced me, a devilish smirk twisting her lips.

"I think it's gonna be a really fun summer."

#kpop smut #yiren smut #everglow smut #yiren #everglow #wang yiren #everglow yiren #wang yiren smut

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from-izzy · 27 days ago

Text

[00:05] | nct mark lee

"You're not behind," it prompts the grip on his forearm to tighten, "but you are tired and you deserve to rest now."

pairing » nct mark lee x gn!reader (fast proofread once - lmk if i missed anything!)

trope/au » established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » maximum hurt and comfort because i need someone to do this for me AND IT'S EXAM SEASON FOR MEJSDKFJHDF, mwork is a fluffy boyfriend in these angst times, mark holding you tight and telling you that everything is fine, boyfriend mark lee concerned for your wellbeing, mark letting you rest against his chest

word count, estimated reading time » 1707, ~6 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » reader is stressed with academics, reader hasn't slept in a while, mark implied to be physically bigger and taller

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist🤍 'especially to you...'

HEYYYY HIIII! double update in a month which is very rare for me now 😭 and thanks for beta-ing a long time ago @sohnric !!

i def still love writing but life commitments can get heavy sometimes 🥹 and with that, this one is for everyone who is in exam prep or just having a hard time academically but also just anyone who needs comfort right now! good luck on your studies and commitments everyone! you can do this!! 🫂

with that being said, my first exam is tomorrow and i am tired-

Literally from the side, you hear the door creaking open, the click of its button free from the metal that houses it on its frame. As always, you choose to ignore it even though your heart drops slightly closer to your stomach. You don't dare to tear your eyes away from the document on your screen, choosing to look at the scorching white with your tired, slightly red eyes.

He called out for you but the only thing he's greeted with is your fingers rapidly against your keyboard. Mark is no longer surprised by your dismissive actions, sighing when it seems like the rhythm becomes faster.

Slowly, he approaches your study area, a folded finger rubbing against his eyes in an attempt to blink the tiredness away even if it's just for a little bit. When he's close enough to see what you're working on, he can't help but feel proud of your progress. The title of the document takes him back to just a few days ago when you were crying to sleep in his arms, telling him about how you have no idea and that you have hit a wall in the upcoming assignment that seems to be due so soon.

In reality, it isn't due for two more months, but it's the weighting of the assignment that has you pondering if you can really bear the burden of sleeping when forty per cent of your grade depends on this one paper.

But seeing your hair messy with an overused coffee cup not too far away from the edge of the table, he isn't sure if he would just rather see you cry yourself to sleep or see the obvious dark shadows surrounding your eyes. What he does know right now though, is that you should just rest your whole body after depriving yourself of a whole twenty-four hours with no sleep—slightly more than that now actually.

Mark arrives behind you, the front of his oversized shirt hitting the backseat of your study chair. His arms fall onto your shoulders, slowly massaging your tension away.

"Dinner?" He tests the topic first, genuinely not knowing if you have eaten today as he was busy outside the house.

You respond with a hum, "I promise, I had it." The typing didn't cease as you continued to speak to him, "Go back to bed, Markie."

If only you could turn back to see the face he makes at your dismissive answer. "Can't," he answers simply for now. "Not when I know that you’re out here tired and sleepless."

You know that this is his way of pulling you away from the technology that is keeping you up but you decide to stand your ground, "Just a bit more."

"That's what you've been saying the past half day, bubs."

The specific timeframe is what made your fingers freeze and you tuck all your fingers into your palm except for two, scrolling up towards the start of the document. Reality suddenly sinks into you when it doesn't feel like you scrolled up a lot, but the grey bar on the right side of the screen shows that you reached the top of the document. The wave of exhaustion finally hits and your eyelids suddenly fall instantly. Mark immediately encircles his arms around you, pulling your back to rest against his chest.

It doesn't take him another second to realise that you're silently sobbing in his arms, upper body trembling in shame and disappointment with how time has passed yet no real effort is physically seen to the real world. Mark presses multiple kisses on the top of your head, tightening his hold and whispering words of comfort.

"Mark..." You decide to bury your eyes into Mark's arms, the salty liquid trickling down the safety of his arms. "It feels like time is mocking me right now..."

You've always felt this way. Indeed, time will never wait for anyone or anything, yet as humans, it's ironic that we always wait for the right time. It's annoying and it's infuriating to see the long hand of the clock easily circle while you just sit still and watch it happen.

Mark pulls away only slightly, pulling your seated body out from the table so that he can spin you around to physically put your work behind you. He then kneels in front of you, his hands enveloping yours on top of your lap.

He doesn't say anything at first and doesn't even dare to fully let go of you even when he wipes your tears away from your cheeks. Mark just offers you a smile with the crease between his eyebrows evident, letting you cry out your feelings a little bit more.

"You're doing so well," he affirms his thoughts out loud. "You don't give yourself enough credit for that, so I'm here to remind you every time."

And he does.

Mark Lee has always been great at that even when you were both still friends. You were worried that he only did it when you were both still in the flirting stages too, but four years with Mark Lee and he still says the words sincerely and truthfully. In your darkest times, that's all that you need.

Your legs push your bottoms to the edge of the seat and you practically slump into Mark's embrace as you push the seat rolling away behind you. Your arms swing around Mark's neck for stability, hiding your cries in the crook of his neck.

"I'm tired, Mark..." suddenly the ground felt wobbly, your knees giving out to keep your posture somewhat upright in his hold, “and I feel so dumb.”

Mark quickly refutes with a series of firm shaking of his head, craning his neck just slightly enough to kiss the trail that your tears leave on the apple of your cheeks. You whimper against the touch of his lips and you hate that you’re worrying the person who has proven to you over and over again that he loves you to the moon and back. His black hair fell over his eyes but it’s not hidden enough for you to miss the reassuring glimpse that his orbs gazed you with.

"Your past achievements prove you otherwise as well and I promise you that you’re not.”

And he really means that.

Your tiredness is physically shown further by the way you slump over his figure on the floor. Your knee isn't even supporting you on the ground anymore, slipping you further away from him as the fabric of your longer pants helps you slide on the polished floor to bring you closer to your boyfriend.

Mark supports your weight against his, untucking his legs from under him and spreading them beside your figure. Slowly and gently, he turns you around and sits you properly on the squared patterns. Similar to before, he makes you rest your head against where his heart beats calmly while he leans backwards slightly so that you're more comfortable in his arms around your middle. Your fingers stiffly grip his forearm, mind still clouded by the next paragraph of your work and Mark picks this up.

His eyes drift up to the black font against the white electronic paper. "Tell me the next one." Referring to the idea of your work.

He does this often, repeating the main ideas of your work so that he can store them inside his long-term memory. This way, he can tell it to you tomorrow. His love transcends forgetfulness, his mind jotting down all the main points so that you don't have to go back to doing work without sleep inside your system any longer. Mark gently sways his upper body and the weight of your eyelids becomes more apparent from the hum he lets out.

"But I just don't think I deserve to rest." It feels like the world is too active for you to do so. "I feel like I'm behind all the time."

"You're not behind," it prompts the grip on his forearm to tighten, "but you are tired and you deserve to rest now."

That's all the validation you need. You just needed to hear someone say, with a mellow voice and the beating of their heart that contrasts your erratic ones, that it's alright for you to rest, even if it's for a while. The affirmation that you're doing well is gratefully received, but you just needed someone to tell you that your eyelids can fall for the next few hours on a well-deserved mattress, in a safe place.

Next, your voice box finally releases the tension to the air and Mark Lee alternates between kisses to the side of your face and whispers to the shell of your ear all the words that would make the tension around your body fade.

That's the thing about Mark Lee. He would let you cry it out audibly, not like the ones you would bury your entire face to your pillow, suffocating and gasping for air as you tried to keep the weight on your shoulders to yourself when you were still living alone.

The tears from your eyes are valid and so did the sobs that did the same from your lips. The world blurs due to the remnants of some of the stubborn ones that didn't drop to your tear-stricken cheeks—but it's fine because Mark would always turn his head to you, the side of his fingers brushing on your lower lid, careful to not hurt the orbs that he finds love and security in.

Mark still holds you close throughout the whole time, eventually seeing how your chest gradually decreases its frequency in taking deep breaths.

Exhausted and spent, you managed to whisper, "Thanks, Mark." It's croaked and easy to miss if it wasn't for the proximity that you're both sharing.

"Always." His palm rests on your jawline and he softly turns your head, your ear now on his chest. Mark lands a quick peck on your now slightly upturned lips, "I love you."

"I love you more."

Sleeping is easier for him now that the other side of the mattress is occupied and that he can feel your warmth directly on his skin in a well-deserved resting position.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist 🤍 'especially to you...'

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @haneul-and-clouds

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tired-biscuit · 11 months ago

Note

thinking about big biceped and big boobed jock kiba staring at you with hungry eyes, licking over his fanged canines with his tongue. he's hovering above you on the bed on all fours, but his dick is so big you still feel the fat leaking tip brushing against your thigh and trailing his pre-cum along your soft heated skin. he can't wait to devour you. 🩷

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: size kink

divider by @/benkeibear

kiba thinks he’s one lucky son of a bitch when you come back home for winter break and he finally gets the chance to see you.

however, he thinks he’s even luckier the moment the clothes you’re wearing come sliding off.

your eyes are big as you lay in the bed that belongs to your childhood bedroom, completely naked and pinned underneath your boyfriend’s much, much bigger body. the soft glow of the festive fairy lights that decorate the window — and which you’ve excitedly put up only hours after arriving back home for the holidays and unpacking your suitcase — reflects inside them.

as a result, there are sparkles twinkling in your pupils.

kiba thinks they make you look like a dream.

with a voice that’s barely above a gruff drawl, he leans in closer to your ear, all until your naked chests are flushed together. “make sure to stay quiet when i push in, ‘kay? i don’t wanna give your old man a reason to beat my ass.”

the way he speaks, all hushed and borderline breathless from mere grinding and heavy petting that you’ve been indulging in ever since you’ve both excused yourselves from dinner that you were having with your parents and rushed upstairs to your bedroom, makes his yearning for you evident. consequently, it also quickens the speed of your pulse.

your heart feels like it’s hammering behind your teeth because of it as you slowly nod your head yes and meekly utter, “i’ll be quiet. i promise.”

“i mean it, though.” he glances at you, a faint blush warming his cheeks. “your dad scares the crap outta me.”

“i know, ki.” you pause before giggling. “it’s brave of you to be doing this right now… i’m really proud of you.”

kiba, currently kneeling while looking nice and snug between your legs, smiles at the compliment and the rather expectant look that sits on your lovely face.

he’s got both hands on either side of your head as a means to support his own weight while you get ready to enjoy each other at long last. thick fingers dig into the pillow you’re resting on, blunt nails sinking into the delicate bedding; that is until he moves one hand in order to stroke a line along the smooth curve of your cheek now.

it is warm underneath the tips of his calloused fingertips. he’s missed you so much that he can’t help but dip down to press a tender kiss onto it before he caresses it once more, gripping you by the chin right after.

the distance has been tough. the last time you’ve seen each other was well over three months ago, and while the occasional visits have succeeded in making the entire thing at least somewhat bearable, they always seem to end much too soon for your, and his, liking.

however, you’re both home now. furthermore, you have more than enough time to make up for the one you’ve lost while attending different universities. even with the risk of your parents possibly hearing you while they surely watch their favourite TV show in the living room downstairs.

but never mind that! all you should be focusing on right now is how good your boyfriend looks as he holds himself nice and steady above you; broad back slightly hunched, strong arms flexing, making the muscles in them ripple with drool-worthy tightness.

you’ve got a literal beast of a man caging you, bending you at the waist. all those years of sports have really paid off, huh? dating a jock does have its good sides.

and that beast seems to be awfully eager to finally have you underneath him again after months of nothing but dirty texting and even dirtier phone calls. you can see it in his brown eyes, in the way the corners of his lips keep kicking upwards, in the way his fingers reach down to stroke your hips so that you can align them properly with his own.

but you can also see it in how freaking hard he is; the weight of his cock prominent, the tip repeatedly leaving sticky splotches of shiny pre-cum on your hot skin whenever it touches your thigh, nearing your center inch by inch. in how his wide chest heaves when your hand wraps around the base of it then, urging him to push it inside you already.

fat cockhead nudging your sticky entrance, you look into each other’s eyes at the contact. he looks out of place inside your room. kiba is rugged; all male and tough and mean and dark, and the bed sheets he’s planning to screw you on are pink and girly. to make things even worse, there are numerous soft, cuddly plushies surrounding you on the bed, making the situation almost sinful.

he shoves the colourful squishmallow that’s getting in the way off the bed with an irked huff before he reaches between your bodies to push your puffy folds apart with the help of his fingers. he presses his thumb onto your clit, then and your back arches in response to the pleasant sensation, a deep sigh leaving your lips.

that sigh quickly turns into feeble moaning by the time he starts rubbing circles over your most tender spot and finally presses into you, ever so slowly filling you inch by inch with the dick you’ve been longing for for the last three months. your hole stretches to accommodate the entirety of his cock, tummy all of a sudden feeling full, the heat inside it spreading like a wildfire.

the pace he has to fuck you in in order to not make noise is excruciating — it’s so slow. a shiver still tumbles down your spine when his dark pubic hair tickles your clit, but you miss the way he tends to slam into you whenever you have the place all to yourselves.

he makes up for it by folding you in half and bending your legs until your knees are nearly touching your ears, though.

and that changes everything. he holds the back of your thigh with one hand, supports himself with the other. it’s almost scary — how big he is. he covers you from view entirely with his body, and at the same time makes you feel like you’re going to burst.

breaths mix together, hasty kisses get exchanged. his pace quickens just the tiniest bit.

“oh, fuck yeah... there we go.” he grunts quietly, baring his oddly sharp canine teeth with a clench of his jaw when he feels your walls start to squeeze around him. “attagirl… takin�� my cock so well even after not getting it for s’long.”

“shit, shit, shit… god—” you whimper in response, throwing your head back into the pillow. he’s so big that it feels like he’s inside your womb, no, your throat.

“shh. you need to be quiet… remember?” he hushes in-between ragged breaths as beads of salt form and glimmer on his brow. the pink, heavy duvet he’s covered up to the waist with in case someone would decide to walk in without knocking is already making him sweat profusely. it’s pure torture for someone as hot-blooded as him.

you could say the same. feeling the touch of a hand that isn’t your own for a change causes you to turn even more slippery between your legs than you already are despite the laggard pace you have to keep in order to refrain from making the bed frame squeak and the headboard slam against the wall.

his hand leaves the underside of your thigh as he drops lower to be closer to you. you gasp when he bites you just below your collarbone, a place that he’s positive won’t be visible when you put your shirt back on. his tongue laps over the now-aching spot, sucking on it lightly, making your toes curl against the small of his back and your fingers dig into his dark brown hair.

“ki—” you whine, unable to say his name at how he keeps on thrusting into you, keeps on reshaping your entire cunt somehow. the pace is slow, sure. but it’s deep.

so fucking deep.

“c’mon, baby; i thought i told you to zip it,” he hisses lowly, his big palm clamping over your mouth. he lifts his head just enough to look you in the eyes while he drags his thumb up and down the side of your face again, your jawline. “i know it feels good but you gotta keep it together. you promised me you would.”

are you capable of doing that, though? you’re so small, so delicate. and he’s so strong, so big and intimidating — dangerous, even. it feels like he could crush your entire skull with one hand if he wanted to.

instead, he licks his teeth and swallows the saliva that’s gathering inside his mouth before he whispers, “now tell me… did ya miss me?”

your pupils grow to the size of the dinner plates that your mother had put in front of you both earlier as you nod vehemently, letting out a muffled noise of approval behind his palm that he still has firmly clamped over your mouth.

“yeah? good, ‘cause i did too… missed ya a whole fuckin’ lot. and this pretty lil’ pussy of yours.” kiba grins, feeling blood rushing south at your answer, causing him to get even more hard than he already is — if that is even possible. he’s such a sucker whenever it comes to being desired, he just can’t help it.

“now stay quiet so that i can fuck your brains out, cutie.”

#naruto smut #kiba smut #kiba x reader #biscuit drabbles #tw size kink

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aperrywilliams · 5 months ago

Text

More Than You Expect (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

——————

Author Masterlist

Part 1: More Than You Know

Part 2: More Than You Say

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!exBAU!Reader.

Summary: You have a new life, and Spencer isn't in it. But somehow, you both cross paths again. Will it be just like the wind passing, or will it stick?

Word Count: 7k

TW: ANGST WITH "HOPEFUL" ENDING. Strong language. Mention of sex, illicit acts, jail, typical CM things. A character gets injured (nothing life-threatening). If I forgot something, please let me know.

A/N: The last part of the trilogy "More Than You..." It's done, folks. What started like a one-shot a year ago is complete now. Thank you for all the comments I got about this one, your likes, and your reblogs. Tell me your thoughts about it.

——————

Big changes are usually something people are eager for or afraid of. You are in the second group. You don't like changes. There's no way you stayed in the BAU for more than a decade if it weren't in part for fear of making big changes in your life.

It's not that you don't like to imagine new things or dream of something different, but uncertainty is something you aim to avoid at all costs.

Although your predisposition, when you confessed your feelings to Spencer on a fateful afternoon at the BAU three years ago, you knew a big shift was coming, and there was no turning back. That same night, after he left your apartment, you knew it would be the last time you would see him.

And boy, that one was a hell of a change.

After thirteen years of spending together almost every day, he would no longer be a part of your life.

You handed your resignation letter to Emily the next morning. She tried to convince you to stay, but deep down, Prentiss knew whatever reason she could give you, it wasn't enough. You had already made up your mind.

-----------

From one big city to another. New York welcomed you with open arms. The NY FBI field office did, too.

Although you chose to stay as an FBI agent, your job would be slightly different from the one you had been doing at the BAU when you joined the Organize Crime division.

It was a little intimidating at first. There was a lot of action, certainly a lot of undercover missions, a bunch of criminals, too many drug busts and guns. In summary, a lot of everything. But with time, you learned that OC has so plenty of shit targets as the BAU had. It wasn't rare to come face to face with psychopaths sometimes. And your training as a profiler has come in handy more than once.

After you left DC, you never looked back. You asked Emily to please not tell anyone where you would go. You also write a letter to Garcia, pleading not to track you down, assuring her you would be fine, and if the future would make you cross paths again, so be it, but please do not push it. She replied with a full four-page letter, agreeing with your request but giving you her thoughts about why she felt you were doing wrong.

You appreciated her honestly, but it was done.

No listening to Prentiss's instructions, Spencer tried to reach you regardless. Your phone kept receiving daily calls and texts for months. You didn't reply to any of them.

Until someday, it stopped.

You should have felt relief, and sort of you did, but it was a bittersweet feeling knowing the last string that kept it joined to your old life was cut.

That was the change, and you took it.

Were you doing okay? Did you accept it without consequences? No.

But the new job needed to do its magic. You were so consumed by what you were committed to doing that nothing else mattered.

In the past three years, you have gone undercover so many times, some of them with direct life risk, but you were in one piece. You have been shot and stabbed, though, giving you enough scars to talk about.

Your teammates were and are still very surprised by your versatility and compromise. Your philosophy? Do the job, take another case, work your ass on it, and catch the bad guys.

They even started calling you the Lone Ranger. Why? Although your work involves a task group with more agents, most of the time, your missions are in solitary— weeks or months of not having contact with your team until there is some break in the case.

Once the job is done, you return home and just shut off from the world.

You only socialize after work a little or the bare minimum. Just a few colleagues know things about you besides your prominent former career as a profiler in DC. And certainly, nobody knows the true reason why you moved to New York in the first place.

It's better this way, and you are used to it.

And what about your current love life? While in DC, you didn't have one because you were pining for Spencer; in New York, you don't have one because nothing seems too serious to think of it.

Flings? Of course. But that's all. In some way, you became the same kind of person you criticized in Spencer.

Life works in mysterious ways.

-----------

"The NYPD called us an hour ago asking for one of our most wanted, Vincent Clark," your boss, Agent Lindstrom, says as Monday's morning meeting starts.

It's not something uncommon. Local police have their own OC task force, and you have worked together more than once. The weird thing is that from one moment to the next, they request information from a target, of which, in theory, only your team knows.

"And they want information because-" you enunciate the obvious question.

"They're working on a case involving a string of civilian murders in Manhattan, and for some reason, his name came up," Lindstrom fills.

"Murders? It doesn't sound like Clark's MO," John Miller - a colleague - muses.

"Certainly not. NYPD has to be wrong," you back Miller's observation.

"And why NYPD-OC are investigating civilian murders? Does it have to do with some kind of operation?" Adam Taylor - another teammate - asks.

"Not quite. The local task force is helping 1PP because things have been escalating pretty quickly," Lindstrom explains. "But we here must find out why Clark is a person of interest and verify if they're indeed wrong about him. We don't want them to blow up our intel for no reason. So, Taylor and (Y/L/N), you're assigned to go with NYPD and help to clear this up."

That's how you got a new assignment. And not as undercover; that's a shift.

Taylor is driving this time, and you only look out the window, focusing on nothing in particular.

"You okay?" He asks after some time, resting a hand on your knee. You turn to see him.

"Yeah, why?"

"You are too quiet. Maybe you are mad at me?" Taylor asks tentatively. You raise an eyebrow.

"Why would I?" He clears his throat at your question.

"Well. Because, you know, we haven't talked about the other night."

The other night. Adam is referring to when you came back from your last undercover mission of four months and ended up in his bed at the end of the day.

You tensed at his response. You knew it was a bad idea to sleep with him, but you always thought about it as stress relief, and you thought he understood the same.

"There is nothing to talk about, Adam. We both know what it was." You try to sound cool but soft as well so as not to hurt feelings - if they were there.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. I just was making sure you were okay with it."

Why do men have the compulsion to mask a question that only cares about them, like uninterested concern about you?

"I am. Don't worry," you assure Adam with a confident smile.

To your ease, the conversation ends there.

You always have kept your distance in this job, with the prerogative of not getting involved with colleagues. What went on with Taylor is still bothering you because it was something that shouldn't have happened in the first place.

-----------

The NYPD quarters welcome you with Captain Novak's handshake. Soon, you learn he wasn't aware the locals had called your boss for intel.

"I'm sorry you had to come here. We are already having the FBI help on this," Novak explains. It's a way to say they don't need you there.

But you have a job to do, so you can't just leave.

"Due to the information we got, I think we can be useful too, Captain," you point, as Taylor backs you up saying something similar.

Novak understands he should use all hands available, so he agrees to have you stay and join the group working on the case.

"Yeah. I think any information would be useful in this case. Come on, I'm going to introduce you to the task group working on this." You and Taylor follow him down a hall to the end, where a large meeting room is.

After opening the door, Novak is ready to make the formal introductions.

"As I told you, an FBI unit is helping us on this. Here is the BAU team. Agent Prentiss, Rossi, Alvez, Jareau, Lewis, and Reid."

Your breath suddenly hitch in your throat at the sight of your old team there. And everyone is looking back at you with a perplexed look as well.

Novak continues talking. "These are Agent (Y/L/N) and Taylor from the OC division." After a second of contemplation, Novak let out a chuckle. "Ha, it's weird. I have to introduce two FBI teams working on the same case with the NYPD."

The guy has a bizarre sense of humor, but he has a sense of humor nonetheless; you have to give him that.

Not that you keep a count, but it has been three years, two months, and twenty days since the last time you saw them. Plus seven hours if you consider the last time you saw Spencer. Since the night you kicked him out of your apartment.

You can't help but make eye contact with him. You both look shocked. And how not to be? Neither of you woke up this morning thinking about seeing each other again.

"Agent (Y/L/N), it's nice to see you again. Good thing OC wants to help here. I can tell you about what we have got so far."

Emily speaks, breaking the silence and setting the rules of the current interaction. She is as surprised as everyone, but it would be time for that later.

It's a welcomed way out of the uncomfortable moment, and you take it.

"Sure. Do you think Agent Taylor could catch up with the intel you got from the current suspect?"

Emily nods. "Of course, Lewis, Reid, can you help agent Taylor on that? Captain Novak, maybe you can give some insight from the locals, too?"

Tara and Novak agree verbally, while Spencer only gives a curt nod.

Spencer makes brief eye contact with you before leaving the room.

Hell, what were the odds of something like this happening? You chose OC in another city precisely because you would hardly end up working on the same case.

Well, fuck the improbability.

When you're left alone with the rest, you don't know whether to ignore the elephant in the room or acknowledge the three years in which none of them have heard from you.

"It's good to see you, bella," Rossi cuts your mind spiral.

"Yeah, hope New York has treated you well," Luke seconds.

"I'm sure OC is happy to have you," JJ adds.

Each one of your former teammates offers you positive words you didn't expect to hear after leaving the way you did.

"Thank you, guys," you mumble gratefully.

Prentiss speaks up before things turn too emotional.

"Okay, okay. We'll have time for that later. Now, we need to crack this case. Tell us (Y/N) what can help us catch this unsub?"

You proceed to explain your concern about whether they are focusing on the wrong suspect. Emily listens to you carefully, and the rest share their impressions. There is no clear conclusion, but you decide to proceed with caution, given Vincent Clark's importance to your team.

"Okay. This is what we are going to do. Luke, you and JJ track Clark's associates first. Discretely, of course. Dave, can you check with Garcia about what these buildings in this list have in common?"

Once they are all gone with a task in hand, you stay alone with Emily.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know they would call you for this case," Prentiss muses. Your mouth goes agape. Why is she apologizing to you?

"Emily, it's okay. It's me who should be sorry for disappearing like that. I - I never contacted you, and you have the right to -" You can't finish your idea because Emily cuts you off.

"I know what are you going to say, and no. We are not mad (Y/N), we understand. You didn't want to be found, and we get that."

You surely appreciate her reassurance, but it doesn't make the guilt go away.

"Spencer does, too?"

Emily furrows her eyebrows. "In a way, I think he does. But he won't tell you that," she confides.

It's better than nothing.

"Is he okay, though?" You ask, believing if his life improved after your departure, you could feel a bit less shitty.

"I can't answer that. You will have to ask him."

Emily's assertiveness strikes again, you think. She's right. It's unfair to talk about Spencer with you when you were adamant about her not speaking with him about you.

You nod. "Fair enough."

For the rest of the day, things are pretty hectic. Police officers and FBI agents are coming and going; new information comes to check, and there are more witnesses to interview. There's so much movement that you haven't been able to stop a second and think about how you feel seeing Spencer after three years.

Emily has been cautious about not assigning you tasks where you might coincide, but you still can see him in the police station, and you've even exchanged furtive glances from time to time.

Taylor catches you doing it one of those times.

"What's wrong?" At the question, you turn to see him.

"Uh? No. Nothing." You're too distracted to notice Adam doesn't believe you.

"So, they are your former team in DC," he remarks, trying to get you talking. Since you arrived at 1PP, you have barely said a word not work-related to Taylor.

"Yeah." It's the best you can give him. You know what Adam is doing, but you won't engage. You have a lot on your plate already.

Your mind starts mulling the idea of talking to Spencer. But why would you do that? You were very clear the last time you spoke about your need to step aside. You were explicit to him about not having the strength to keep supporting him in his free fall. Sure, he promised to change and all that jazz, but you knew staying would only have brought you more pain and disappointment.

Despite all the reasoning, in the back of your brain, there is still the question of whether he really did what he said he would do. It's a morbid thought you have sometimes entertained.

Taylor's hand on your shoulder brings you out of your thoughts. You look at him in a daze. "Novak is calling us," he announces, frowning. Adam knows there's more going on in your head than you let on, and he has a suspicion about what - or rather who - it's about.

-----------

It's late at night, and still, there are no clues solid enough to catch the unsub. You all start to feel the exhaustion but keep going. You haven't seen Spencer, Tara, or Rossi in a few hours, so you think Emily sent them to the hotel for the night.

Taylor told you he needed a break as well. So you're alone in one of the offices, going through folder after folder in case you overlooked something.

You're so focused that you jump when you notice the silhouette of someone standing in the doorway.

It's Spencer.

"Jesus! You scared me," you exclaim with a hand over your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to do that," Spencer apologizes, closing the door behind him. His voice is calm and collected. You inspect him with curious eyes.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, a little harsher than you have liked. Spencer contemplates his response for a couple of seconds.

"Uh, I just wanted to say hi and to know if you were doing okay?"

His voice is unsure, and you look at him in disbelief. It's your confusion that prompts him to continue. "Well, if this had happened months after you left, I would possibly have come to yell and accuse you for leaving like that. Now? Just let's say I wanted to make sure you are doing okay," he clarifies, hands in his pockets.

"Well. I'm doing okay. I hope that satisfies your curiosity." Your response is curt and snarky, and you don't know really why. He hasn't said anything out of the ordinary. Spencer doesn't seem surprised by your tone, though.

"It does. Thank you."

And maybe it's enough for Spencer to turn and leave you alone, but you have the question at the tip of your tongue.

"So you're not mad at me?"

Spencer narrows his eyes. "Uh, I didn't say I'm not mad. I said I'm not here to throw it at you," he clarifies.

For some reason, the answer to your own question ignites an old bitterness you thought was gone.

"Oh, thank you very much," you mock. "A bit bold of you, don't you think?"

Spencer scoffs. "Bold? Bold being mad after you left from one day to the next?"

And there you go. So, Spencer's main problem is that you left in a hurry rather than the reason why you did it.

"What did you expect? Did you think I was going to stay after what happened?" You ask with incredulity, standing from your spot and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Maybe not. But head-ups would have been nice," Spencer matches your sarcasm.

"Yeah, and a goodbye party, too," you deadpan, and Spencer breathes a humorless laugh. Your irony is pushing his buttons the way you know it does, even after all these years. But why are you doing it? You don't really know.

"(Y/N), you literally disappeared! I was - we all were worried. I know you didn't want to talk to me or see me, for that matter. But why leave the BAU like that?"

Spencer looks distraught just at the mention of that fact. You don't interrupt his rant.

"For months, I really thought something bad had happened to you until Emily told me you were actually okay and that I should stop bothering you."

"It took you long enough," you mutter under your breath.

For a long time, you thought your reaction and later decision to leave like that was too much. Maybe it wasn't necessary to drop everything to start over, but you knew if you wanted to leave behind thirteen years of a lot of things, thirteen years of Spencer Reid, you needed to do something big—a major change.

"Yeah. It took me long enough. But don't expect me to be cool about it. It hurt (Y/N). It hurt like hell," Spencer admits.

"Why? Weren't you living the life you wanted?" you ask sardonically, and you see how Spencer's jaw clenches.

"You know I didn't. And I told you back then I realized about that, too," Spencer says, referring to the last time you saw each other—the night you kissed, and he told you he loved you, but you didn't believe him.

"But I get it. I understood why you didn't trust I was telling the truth, and it was fair. But to disappear like that? It was a lot (Y/N)."

In some way, you truly think Spencer's feelings about what happened are reasonable, and even you can understand the grudge he holds against you. But you are not in place to admit that to him. Not when the memory of what happened starts to burn in your brain and heart again.

"Are you done?" Pettiness is the only thing at hand you can use for now.

Spencer sighs. "I don't want you to think I'm admonishing you or whatever you think I'm doing. I really get I did wrong back then, and I hurt you. I'm not dismissing that fact."

"Good! Because here I was thinking you already forgot," you state, raising your voice.

"Jesus, (Y/N). Can you stop that?" Spencer's voice raises, too, to match yours.

You are about to make another remark when the door opens.

"(Y/L/N), we are going to -," Taylor starts to say but is cut off when he sees you with Spencer arguing. You both get startled and turn to see him. "Am I interrupting?" Taylor questions with eyebrows furrow.

"No-"

"Yes-"

You and Spencer reply in unison and make Taylor hesitate. "(Y/N)?" he asks you directly this time, tentatively approaching. He looks worried, and you don't want to make a fuss right now.

"It's okay, Adam. We are discussing something about the case. I'll finish here and join you, okay?" you say, with a soothing hand on his elbow.

"Yeah, okay. Yeah. I'll be with Novak," an unconvinced Taylor says as he retracts from the office, leaving you and Spencer alone again.

When you turn to see Spencer, he has his eyes trained on you, analyzing you. It's a piercing gaze you haven't seen in him in a long time—years, to be exact.

"What?" You ask, trying to break the trance. It seems to work because Spencer clears his throat.

"Nothing. Uh. I should go. Emily must be looking for me," he mumbles before passing you. Almost leaving the office, he turns for a moment.

"I really wanted to know you were okay. I'm sorry for what I said after that."

When the door closes behind him, you are left standing, questioning whether the last ten minutes have actually happened.

-----------

'I'm sorry for what I said after that.'

Why is he sorry? Is it because he didn't mean it? Is it because he didn't want you to know?

It's not that you feel guilty, or maybe you do to some extent. Whatever it is, the thought of Spencer in the past three years has haunted you in many ways and forms.

Yeah, you came to New York to put distance between yourself and him, but what you never saw coming is that sole fact started to weigh on you in many aspects of your life. At first, you thought that due to the bond you both had forged for years, things would not look very good. Sure, it was going to take a lot of work, but you thought time would do its magic.

You tried—you have been trying hard. And even though you still believe it was the right thing to do, why have you yet to make peace with yourself?

Why has happiness been elusive to you? You haven't been able to make real friends; you haven't been able to have a healthy relationship. You've immersed yourself in the job, hoping sooner rather than later, the moment when the pieces finally fit together will come.

Will it ever happen?

When you think about that, your mind wanders to Spencer and whether what you're feeling now is anything like how he felt at the time. Or maybe how he still feels. You don't know. The times you have thought about it always end with the conclusion it's not the same. He had you back then. You don't have anybody.

Seeing him now only has fueled your self-struggle, and although you think it's not fair to take it on him this time, your actions haven't reflected that thought.

After considering your encounter in the precinct office, you concluded the best thing to do is to keep the peace between you both. To be civil and avoid the bickering. You are an adult; you can do that.

What you didn't expect is it hasn't been necessary to put your resolution into practice since you haven't run into Spencer again. The times you've seen him, he's barely made eye contact and immediately gone in the opposite direction from you.

In the meantime, the hours have passed, and you are almost ending your second day on the case, at least with more progress than the day before.

There is a good clue about who the unsub is—Albert Thomas, who has a direct link to Vincent Clark, your target from OC. Indeed, the unsub would be part of Clark's team.

Given that, you and Taylor inform your boss, and he allows you to participate in the takedown only if you can get Clark as well. It would be the conclusion of more than a year of chasing him.

It is a complicated operation, so everyone—officers from the NYPD, the BAU, and the OC division—prepares to catch Thomas and those involved with him.

Upon arriving at the abandoned building where you expect Thomas to be, Emily sends you in pairs to different points. You go with Taylor to cover the back door. Upon entering, you realize it is suspiciously quiet. The lighting is bad, but you don't want to use your flashlight so as not to alert them about your presence. You go first, and Taylor covers you. You arrive at a room where some light sneaks in. You go a little forward and peek, realizing Clark is filling some briefcases with money. He has his back on you, so he doesn't notice your presence.

"FBI! Hands up!" you shout, approaching with your gun pointed at Clark. He turns around but doesn't seem scared. Why? He is not alone.

Unfortunately, that thought comes too late. In a matter of seconds, Thomas pounces on you, throwing you to the floor. Your weapon falls meters from you. You know Taylor is behind you, but you see Clark grab his briefcases and run towards another escape door.

“(Y/N)!” Taylor shouts, and you barely hear him in your fight with Thomas. But you know if he stops to help you, you'll lose Clark.

"Go for Clark!" You shout him back, rolling on the ground after Thomas jabs your face with his fist.

You can't see Taylor, but you know he is hesitant. "Go!" you insist until you hear him running outside. Now, you can focus on Thomas. You manage to asset a blow to his jaw and push him away from you, but as you are kneeling and about to stand, he is on the floor pointing you a gun.

Where did he get that?

He is going to shoot you. You can see it in his eyes. You know the profile, too. He hasn't nothing to lose. You need to think fast. Talking to him won't make a difference. You decide your best chance is launching at him and pray the bullet doesn't hit you badly.

But before you can do so, you hear a gunshot. You close your eyes because you think it's coming from Thomas's gun. When you notice you don't feel any impact and you hear Thomas's screams of pain, you dare to open your eyes.

Spencer is standing with his revolver pointed at him. He was the one who shot, preventing Thomas from shooting you.

You let out a sigh of relief before collapsing to the floor. Although you didn't get shot, you are very beaten up, and the adrenaline rush leaves you without the energy to keep yourself on your feet.

Spencer is fast to catch you before you hit your head. There is commotion around, but you can barely hear anything. Even Thomas's screams sound far away.

"Hey, hey. I've got you," Spencer mumbles, adjusting you in a lying position, holding the back of your head in his hands.

"Thank you," you breathe out.

You won't notice much of what happens next. Paramedics come to check you out, but you only focus on the squeeze of Spencer's hand in yours. It's the only thing that grounds you as your eyes begin to feel progressively heavy. There comes a point where everything goes black, and you lose consciousness.

When you wake up, you are in a hospital bed. You see Adam with his back to you, talking on the phone, possibly to your boss. When he hangs up the call, you get his attention.

"What happened?" Your voice is raspy, so you assume it's been a couple of hours since you got there. Taylor turns and gives you a little smile.

"It's good to see you awake."

Adam tells you he caught Clark, and they can link him not only to Thomas's murders but to all the evidence against him you have been collecting over the last year. Adam also tells you what the doctor said about your condition. Despite the pretty bad blows you got, there is nothing serious, and you will be able to be discharged in a few hours.

"Where is Spencer?" you blurt out, not fully registering what you asked. A slip you quickly try to disguise. "I mean, the BAU. They have Thomas in custody?"

"Yeah. They brought Thomas to check the GWS, and after his discharge, he got into custody. And yeah, Agent Prentiss and Agent Reid came to check on you a few times," Taylor adds to his recounting with a knowing look you prefer to ignore.

Why does learning they came to check on you make your chest feel warm? You blame the medication the doctors surely gave you.

As Taylor said, a few hours later, you are discharged from the hospital with instructions to go home and not back to work in a week.

Your boss gives you the instructions on the phone. He sounds very happy to have Clark in custody and even mentions a promotion for you for such a successful operation.

You should be happy, right? But in all honesty, it doesn't feel like it.

You decide to go home to catch some needed sleep. Maybe sleeping helps to stop overthinking things. But before you can doze off, a ding from your phone grabs your attention.

Emily P: 'I hear you were discharged. We are leaving tomorrow morning. Would you like to celebrate with us and have a drink tonight? For old-time's sake?'

A nostalgic smile forms on your lips. A drink with your old team? Why not? Even if Spencer is going to be there, you already think it's time to make peace with what happened for your own good and mental health.

-----------

The sound of music and laughter makes the bar feel lively and festive. Upon entering, that's the first thing you notice. The second thing you notice is you haven't been to this place for a while, being one of your regulars when you just moved to New York. At the back of the bar, you can see Emily, Luke, JJ, Rossi, Tara, and Spencer talking and laughing, each with their drink of choice. It's good to see them like this, relaxed, enjoying the moment. It brings back very good memories.

"(Y/N)!" Emily calls you, and everyone turns to see you. You wave and stroll where they are.

When you sit down, the first thing they do is ask you how you feel after the beating Thomas gave you. You don't know if it's on purpose or not, but no one is referring to the fact he almost put a bullet in you.

The conversation flows animatedly. While you tell the most notable anecdotes from your missions in OC, they review some of their most important cases from the last three years of the BAU. The ones who talk the most are Emily, Luke, and Rossi. While JJ and Tara rather break jokes and are more affected by alcohol than the rest. Spencer is the quietest of all, but he also participates in the conversation and even asks you questions about the things you say.

If you thought it might be an awkward instance, your former team proves the opposite, even considering the circumstances and reasons why you left the BAU. And although no one refers to it, everyone tacitly knows that it is there.

They don't resent you. They understood you needed to leave, and although you didn't tell them the reasons, they knew. Even Spencer seems comfortable when you have thought he wouldn't.

The conversation comes to a stop when Emily raises her glass, clearing her throat.

"Well. Uh. It's a weird time for this, but I do think things happen for a reason," Emily prephase, looking at everybody. "So, okay. Here we are tonight with an old friend who left the nest a few years ago," Emily looks at you. "To say goodbye to another of our own who is also embarking on new paths," now her eyes settle on Spencer. "I wish you the best in your new life. We'll miss you a lot. To Reid and his last case at the BAU," Emily toasts.

As everyone raises their glasses and cheers, you can't help but look at Spencer with surprised eyes.

Is he really leaving the BAU? After all these years? Did his last case end with him saving you from a bullet?

He gives you a short glance before sipping his beer.

"Come on, we want a speech," Luke demands, and everyone backs him. You're still in shock to say anything.

Spencer's cheeks redden a bit as he clears his throat before speaking.

"When Gideon recruited me for this job, I never imagined all the things I would experience in 17 years working here—the good and bad. I will always fondly remember everyone I met here and had the honor of working with." Spencer's eyes now focus on you.

"On my first day, I was so nervous I thought I was going to mess it up. But in the conference room, I met someone who was also on her first day. Knowing I wasn't the only one helped me not to run away."

Everyone is listening with raptor attention, and you know they are looking at you from the corner of their eyes.

"Do you remember the times we said everyone would leave before us?" He asks you, and now it's your turn to feel your cheeks burn.

"Well, it didn't happen that way. But I guess Emily is right, and things happen for a reason," he muses. "I wish some things could have been different, but we can't change the past," he says before averting your gaze. "I only hope the bond we forged all these years remains, even if we don't see each other that much or at all. I thank you for everything you have done for me, especially at my lowest points. I apologize for the little I gave in return," his gaze returns to you. "Thank you, guys. I'll miss you all."

Everyone clinks glasses, and Spencer's eyes keep on you. Why does the air feel suffocating from one moment to the next? You don't know what to do; the intensity of his gaze is overwhelming, and you think if you don't do something, you will faint right there.

You discretely apologize and get up from your spot. You need air.

Once outside, the cold of the night hits your face, but it is welcomed.

Your heart is still beating fast. Why are you so affected? Is it because Spencer is leaving the BAU? Are the memories he brought back during the toast?

"Are you okay?" A shy voice says behind you. It's Spencer. He followed you outside. You turn to see him with pained eyes, and Spencer worries even more. "What is it? Do any of the bruises hurt?"

Spencer believes your discomfort is physical. How ironic. In the last hours, you had even forgotten the beating you got.

You shake your head. "No, I'm okay. It's not that," you admit, and Spencer doesn't say anything, waiting for you to continue. "Is it true? Are you leaving?" He nods. "Why?"

It's weird how that fact has shaken you—or maybe not that weird. You never pictured Spencer in a place other than the BAU. You even talked about it several times. Like you, Spencer has never liked to make big changes, and you understand him more than anyone because you still feel the same about that.

"It doesn't make sense for me to stay anymore. It has been like that for a while," he shrugs.

"But you love the BAU. You always told me it was your life," you remind him. Spencer lets escape a little chuckle.

"You told me the same thing years ago, and you left nonetheless."

"It wasn't the same," you dismiss, shaking your head.

"I know. But since then, I've been questioning my reasons to stay."

"Why?"

Spencer takes some seconds to contemplate his response.

"Well. Maybe because it should have happened sooner? Honestly, I think the only reason I lasted this long after I was released from prison is because you were there supporting me. And well, after that? It took me months of therapy to realize it and almost two years to make the decision," he confesses. You are quite shocked hearing him talk about prison and therapy. Those things were banned for to mention three years ago.

"Months of therapy?"

Spencer shrugs again. "What can I say? I took your advice. You were right. I needed help to know what I really wanted."

His words bring you back to that night. The last time you saw each other. You wondered for a long time if Spencer got to make sense of what you said to him. Did he understand how hard it was for you to decide to step aside?

"You know? At first, I started it because I had the secret hope you would come back. And I promised you to change. With time and the certainty I had lost you, I began to accept I had to do it for myself."

Spencer's eyes drift to the distance like he can see those moments of realization he had back then.

"Did you?" Your voice is soft, trying not to cut him off from his reminiscence. His gaze comes back to you.

"Yes. And I thank you for it. I know I said a lot of other things at the precinct, but above all, I understood. I still think it's unfair, though."

"Unfair? Why?"

"I pushed you to do something I'm sure you didn't want to. It was me who should have left, not you."

"Spencer-" you start to say, but he cuts you off.

"I know, it is done. But what I said at the toast? I really meant it. I wish some things would have been different. Jeez, there are a lot of things I should have done differently. I wish I hadn't gone to Mexico. I wish I had told you I loved you sooner. I wish I hadn't chickened out when we first kissed."

Spencer's voice trembles a little. He is pouring out a lot of emotions, and you are there trying to digest all of them.

"But you said it yourself. It's done." Your tone isn't accusatory rather than nostalgic. He nods, clearing his throat.

"I know. And I can't go back in time to change it," Spencer acknowledges.

"Why are you leaving, then?" You are not saying it as if it's the wrong thing to do this time; it's more that you need confirmation that he is not running from reality as he did back then.

"Because I need to find my fresh start, as you did it. Well, and because after 17 years, to stay catching serial killers is not healthy, according to my therapist," he pulls a face after his last statement, making you chuckle.

"Am I listening correctly? Will Spencer Reid do what a shrink recommended to him?" you quip.

"What can I say? I'm a new man," Spencer shrugs, and you smile for real.

It's clear to you that he says it jokingly, but there is some truth behind it. It is not that people can go completely against their essence, but time has proven to you that things can change, and it's not necessarily totally good or totally bad. It's just different in shades of gray. And as something different, there is nothing wrong in looking for another change from time to time, even if that throws you out of your comfort zone.

As you both stand there, you realize that things in life are not linear. They are constantly coming and going. It's laugh and cry, condemn and forgive, mess up and amend.

"It's getting cold here," you start, and Spencer nods. "But I know a coffee shop nearby that is open this hour. Would you-? I mean, so we can keep talking. You don't have to, of course. I know you guys have a flight early in the morning." It's tentative; you can't really read him. Are you overstepping? Your overthinking dissolves when you see a grin forming on Spencer's lips.

"I, uh. I'd love to. I mean, to keep talking. Sure."

"Great. Okay. This way," you point, starting to stroll down the sidewalk. You adjust your coat to shield your neck from the cold as Spencer shoves his hands in his own coat pockets, walking beside you.

In a comfortable silence, you both bask in each other company. Is it like it used to be? Not quite. But it's a familiarity you can relish—a newfound understanding of what changes mean between you both.

Enough to lead you to talk for hours, laughing at your own silliness and crying at the painful admissions, causing Spencer to lose his flight the next morning.

Enough to make you leave New York months later and start teaching at the FBI Academy while Spencer gets his tenure at Georgetown.

And who knows? Maybe it's the same understanding that, six months later, will make you pursue a new step after a kiss under the street lights on a cold night in DC.

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

For those who asked for a part 2 or/and part 3: @gghostwriter @sebastiansstanswhore @evvy96 @pillsbury-doughgirl @singinghamtaro-blog @atlantica-angels @lukesmainpiece @ladyofhellhounds @gubzgirl @shqwqrma @hereforfun-31 @reader1402 @theoraekenslover @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @s1lngwns

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid angst #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you

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doremimosasol · 10 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 - 𝐆𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ✧

Ravenclaw!reader here

Hufflepuff!reader here

Slytherin!reader here

warnings: blood, unconsciousness? nothing too serious I promise

word count: 1,2 k

requested

Gryffindor and Slytherin

two polar opposites

like fire and water

like two positive magnets

and so were you and Mattheo Riddle

you started on bad terms already on the Hogwarts Express, on your way to Hogwarts for the first time ever

you bumped into each other in the pathway on the train, knocking him over and making him rip a small part of his robes

(his fault by the way)

it wasn't your intention but he was absolutely furious

yelling in your face, calling you whatever names he could come up with

it wasn't a pleasant experience, that's for sure

you didn't even set one foot on the schoolgrounds and you already made one enemy

he got sorted into Slytherin and you got sorted into Gryffindor

thank god you didn't get sorted into the same house, the way he acted on the train made him absolutely insufferable

and we weren't even talking about how he acted the whole of first year

you were friends with the Golden Trio which made you all a victim of Draco's annoying pestering

but you were the only victim of the four of Mattheo's despicable behavior

he never went too far though

just some innocent teasing...

...for the first 3 years

it was when you started 4th year that it got worse

the little teasing turned into a full-on mockery

making fun of you in any way possible

it was the year that he came up with a ridiculous nickname: "little lion"

he just stopped using your own name at that point, using any moment to call you by that name

he was proud of it, that he came up with the nickname

every opportunity he saw to yell it at you across the corridor, he took it

he even used the name when talking about you to his friends, they quickly picked up the name too

dumb friends because ONLY HE could use it, no one else, it was his nickname to use

he'd literally start fuming at his friends whenever it slipped up and they called you that too

when you got asked out for the Yule ball, he went absolutely insane

he would never ask you out himself but someone else doing it instead?

absolutely unacceptable

he didn't show it to you nor to anyone, but he was so goddamn jealous

literally going insane because of this stupid feeling he felt all of a sudden

it felt like strings tugged on his heart

like those strings clenched around it, squeezing all the blood out of it

it hurt in some kind of way, like this feeling was swallowing him wholly

he never went too far with his actions...

...until tonight

you got all pretty, spent a lot of time on your make-up, and got the prettiest dream dress you could find

you felt like a princess and you were so excited about tonight

you'd been looking forward to the Yule Ball for months now

for years even, ever since you heard about its existence

but you got stood up...

you didn't get it, you thought the guy was being for real when he asked you out

it completely ruined your night

luckily, Luna came as a savior and danced with you all night

she tried to make you forget about, a heart of gold honestly

everything made sense the next day though...

you heard about your date lying unconscious in the hospital wing

he got brought in yesterday night, apparently his face was completely disheveled

it was still obvious on the shirt he was wearing, the shirt he put on for the dance

instead of white it was now covered in red

this was it.

you were no longer mad at Mattheo, you hated him

you weren't just going to let him get away with this

you'd made sure that he got at least a month of detention, his behavior was just outrageous

"I don't care, it was worth it."

words that would linger in the back of your mind from then on

worth what? reconstructing that guy’s face?

you just couldn't see him as a person anymore, his behavior wasn't normal at all

but your obvious disgust towards him didn't make him stay away from you

it even got worse than before

but it was different

he didn't hurt you anymore, it just became some innocent pestering

following you around in the corridor or annoying you in the library

all just for him to be able to see that annoyed look of yours

the scrunching of your brows and the small scowl on your face just made him want to annoy you even more, it was so rewarding to him

"Will you go on a date with me, little lion?"

huh?

you couldn't have heard that right, but Mattheo Riddle just asked you out on a date?

and you didn't even despise the idea?

you probably should've had, but he had surprisingly grown more mature up to seventh year

and as much as you didn't want to admit it, he did get more charming

more handsome

more attractive, the poles of the magnet slowly changing to negative

more your type

during the whole of seventh year, he asked you out on several occasions

he'd send you letters with handpicked dried flowers, different ones each time

you couldn't help but even find his handwriting attractive, it had this curl in it and didn't match his personality at all

it was cute

he'd sneak into the kitchen to get some cake or other sweets and he'd pull you out of your dorm room to go to the top of the Astronomy Tower with him

he felt proud of himself because he always made sure to get your favorite dessert

he’d explain all the constellations to you, showing off his knowledge about the universe

he'd call them "dates", even though he quite literally had to drag you there sometimes

you couldn't deny that you loved these so-called "dates"

they were cute and it'd shown you a completely different side of him

damn, you started to fall for him

hard

like being pushed to a cold floor

during one of the Quidditch games, he furiously came up to you when he saw you wearing of of the Weasleys' jersey

he pushed his own jersey into your chest, demanding you to change with that typical look

that look that immediately made you go weak in your knees

you couldn't show it

even the smallest slip-up of emotion could confirm your feelings for him

"Change. Now."

his voice, goddamn

it took all your strength to not just kiss him there and then

he'd push you into the dressing room and wouldn't let you leave before he made sure that you wouldn't change into that ridiculous red color again

"Green looks better on you anyway."

it looked good on you: "Riddle"

and from that day on he'd make sure that'd be the only name you'd ever wear

whether it was on his jersey or hopefully (he wished) soon next to your own name

he was the negative magnet after all

pulling you closer and closer to him...

...slowly pulling you into the trap of love

for a Slytherin after all...

#harry potter #fiction #slytherin #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth #marcus lopez arguello #Mattheo riddle #headcanons #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoriddle #mattheo x you #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle headcanon

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mowu-moment · 9 months ago

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ranking food tokens by how much personally i want to eat them

- Throne of Eldraine -

i have reason to distrust this meat pie thing, not only because of its wails of anguish but it also seems to have burst a bit in the oven. still not honestly opposed, at least the dishes are clean. 5/10.

how does one unpeel a curly banana? why are there sliced-open fruits on what appears to be a stone in the woods? where is the light coming from? i'm going to be taken by the fae and it's not even gonna taste too good while i'm at it, these things look dirty. but idk i don't mind someone else taking the wheel of my life rn. 2/10.

again, concerns about the floor food, but at least it looks more like some deliverygirl got eaten by a wolf and dropped her basket than a trap. someone already took a bite, though, maybe i should leave it be. 4/10

i have been invited to the Goblin King's Feast and while i don't fully agree with his choices i will certainly partake. boar looks wonderful apart from the hair. 7/10

- Commander 2020 / Strixhaven Commander -

i'm pretty sure cattails are poisonous to humans (not to mention the actual poisons in there) so i unfortunately can't oblige gyome's swamp soup. that crusty bread looks pretty nice though. i'll pick this thing apart like high school cafeteria lunch. 3/10.

- Modern Horizons 2 -

i at least know who cooked this one, and i trust asmor a decent bit, but this is still food for demons, so maybe it's not too good for me. goddamn do i wanna know what it tastes like though. 4/10.

- Unfinity -

i'm considering these two together. as a filthy american, i am allured by these fat-filled foods, but as a lad with a tiny stomach, i doubt i could eat enough to feel good about not wasting it. astrotorium's about excess, goddamn. the only funfair burger i've had was the best thing i had eaten in months, but it also made me ill the rest of the day. i really do want some infinity fries though, those look like the golden mean between a steak fry and a curly fry. 6/10.

- March of the Machine Commander -

meanwhile this looks like a texture nightmare. like i respect it, i imagine it's filling and fulfilling, but i don't think i ever could eat more than a bite or two. bread looks a little worse than gyome's but only a little. 5/10.

- Lord of the Rings: Tales of Middle-Earth -

my white ass loves a charcuterie board. and i'm not going to be intimidated out of it by not eating enough, since it's all in snack-sized bits already. definitely gonna overindulge this sucker. i'm nervous about some of those spreads though. 9/10.

this looks like i'm in a dream, is it actively cooking? or still hot? i can't identify what's in that pan anyway. i'm leaving it alone out of respect. wouldn't mind a drink though. 2/10.

this is not food. for humans. 0/10.

- Wilds of Eldraine -

this is a king's feast i am properly intimidated by. i'm more into it than the Goblin King's, particularly that triple-layer blueberry pie or whatever that is, but i'm going to have to be as polite as possible lest i get a face full of flaming beer. 8/10

i'll probably be eaten before this can eat me, and it barely looks like food, but at least i go down with sugar in the mouth. 1/10.

ogh. that egg looks divine. the bread looks amazing, there's a full glass, i've got like beans or mermaid tears everywhere. we've even got seasonings back there. the best damn breakfast i'll ever have. 10/10.

i would still probably eat this over nothing. there's onion, at least. i will either be hexed or violently ill, but like i could at least get it down. and maybe the witchmother is testing my strength and she'll reward me after slurping an eyeball. a convenient lie to tell myself. 2/10.

- Doctor Who Commander -

y'know, four, i think i would like a copyrighted candy. they look sad and british, which is on point. but like it's not actively killing me like half of these. i think anyway. i don't know doctor who. 6/10.

what is this? i have no idea. custard? raw batter? giant dunkaroo? is he dipping fishsticks? it doesn't look like it's done cooking, like do we need to put it in a fryer again? i'd say it's inedible but it's not poison stew so i have to be nice. 4/10.

get AWAY from me. this is a PERSONAL vendetta. i would rather try to eat spiderwebs. plus he's already eaten half of it. -10/10.

- Fallout Commander -

i can't be too mean since this is literally apocalypse food. i think i prefer this over poison stew? like i recognize it at least, even if it's foul and moldy. man has to eat something. 3/10

i'm not convinced there's actual soda in here. is this just a perspective shot or is this a giant prop soda? i don't like cola anyway. again, worth it in an apocalypse i suppose. 4/10

this soda i trust even less. it glows? does this give me magic powers in the fallout world or does it just kill me slowly? i think it'll kill me slowly anyway. i need fluid to survive in apocalypseland but damn i hate for it to come to this. 2/10.

#mtg #i haven't had breakfast yet today so this is driving me a little looney

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superprincesspea · 11 months ago

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Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 2 - A Court of Sharks and Dances

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Several weeks after your meeting with Aemond, a raven arrived at Storm's End, inviting your family to spend the summer in Kings Landing at the bequest of Queen Alicent.

The letter marked an unexpected turn of events for the Baratheon family who had never been favoured by the Queen and, though you were quietly suspicious of Aemond’s involvement, you couldn’t be certain.

Either way, your father certainly was pleased by the request. Spending the next month boring you all with the rules on how he expected you to behave at court and how it was high time his three eldest daughters found a suitable husband.

You, on the other hand, were more concerned by how this invitation would lead you straight into the dragon's den and path of the very man you’d been trying to avoid.

Vhagar had been spotted more than a handful of times gliding over the bay these past few weeks, and you had certainly not ventured down to the beach in all that time. No, you had hardly left the castle walls, and mortification had stuck to your skin like a blemish only you could see.

So, when the time arrived for you to leave for Kings Landing, you were not in high spirits. Not that your family noticed. Too busy with their own thoughts on the power and position which could be gained from a friendship with the crown, they barely listened when you feigned illness or tried to make excuses to grant you leave from the journey.

Afterall, refusing such an invite would be akin to madness. No, in your mother's opinion, nothing could make a girl feel better than a summer of opulence and splendour in the Red Keep.

Jousting, dancing, feasts and handsome young knights. The upcoming festivities should have been the stuff of dreams for an unmarried high-born lady such as yourself. But you were descending into what felt like the beginnings of your own personal hell.

Unlike your sister Cassandra, you were not accomplished in music or the arts. Nor were you fun and vibrant like Maris, who was always the epitome of charm and wit.

Defiant and sour was how Septa Orella had often described you and that was on the days when you’d tried your best to behave like a lady instead of muddying your dresses. Though you were older now, you supposed not much had changed since then. If it had, Aemond would not have caught you splashing in the waves like a naughty child.

But it was too late to do anything about that now. Aemond had seen you that day and, if Septa Orella was still alive, you were certain she would have enjoyed knowing you were finally getting your comeuppance. Not that you would have dared to tell her your reasons for wanting to avoid Kings Landing. That was a secret you hoped to take to the grave, yet you had the terrible suspicion it would soon be revealed for all to hear.

It took over a week for your family's carriage to finally make its way through the bronze gates of the Red Keep. You supposed this moment was inevitable, yet it still came as quite a shock, your nerves frayed, your stomach churning. The only comfort was the cover of darkness and the late hour which provided you one last night before you had to face the other courtiers and, of course, Aemond .

You were met by a servant who had been standing by for your arrival, and he escorted you all to a suite of well-appointed chambers which had been readied for your stay. You even had your own room. A large four poster bed commanding its centre, curtained with heavy green brocades which matched the sumptuous quilt and feather pillows. On the nightstand, there was a stack of leather-bound books, and the window was furnished with a velvet chaise on which to read them.

Everything was perfect, and you would be quite comfortable here if it wasn’t for the gnawing dread which squeezed your insides every time you thought of a certain dragon prince. And there was no remedy for that . Only resignation, though you did not want to accept the idea of actually having to see Aemond until he was standing right in front of you.

In the morning, breakfast was brought to your family's chambers on gilded trays along with a roll of parchment which summoned you all for an audience with the Queen.

Again, you tried to make an excuse which would allow you to stay behind, but Borros Baratheon had no interest in the complaints of a daughter. So, when breakfast was cleared away, your stomach only filled with nerves, you had no choice but to follow your family into the Red Keeps imposing hall.

You were announced, one by one. Your father, mother, Cassandra, Maris and then you. All presented to Queen Alicent who seemed as uninterested in your arrival as her son, Prince Aegon, who was standing by her side.

Princess Helaena, however, was very excited by the appearance of three young ladies and was quick to greet you all. Without having to ask, she explained that Aemond was not in Kings Landing at present.

He was hunting with Vhagar in Dorne and, though the thought of him racing through the sky on dragon back made you shiver, you were suddenly free, and a whole world of opportunity seemed to open up before you.

Perhaps you would not see Aemond at all, what an enticing thought that was, even if you knew it wasn’t true. Still, you would not see him for a while and that felt like long enough.

When you were allowed to leave the great hall, you joined Helaena and your sisters for a stroll in the rose garden and you were surprised by its beauty.

Roses clambered and sprawled for as far and wide as the eye could see. Every shade of pink imaginable punctuated by froths of lavender and bright purple spears of salvia. It smelled divine and hummed with the buzz of a thousand bumble bees.

Accompanying you through the turns of the garden were a gaggle of wealthy suitors, who were like sharks in the water at the smell of fresh young blood. Yet even they did not deter from the roses.

You’d brought a book from your room to allow you an excuse to avoid eye contact with Aemond. Now you had every intention of reading it under the shade of a good tree, but Tyland Lannister had other ideas.

“May I join you, Lady Baratheon?” he asked gallantly, sweeping his long golden cape over his shoulder as he knelt on the grass before you.

Though much older than yourself and of no interest to you personally, he was master of ships and favoured by the royal family, so you had no choice but to smile and say, “of course, My Lord.”

He sat a little too close, his expectant eyes waiting for you to entertain him with small talk and flattery as young ladies are trained to do. But you were not as well-bred as your sisters, nor did you have any interest in the men at court.

You held his stare, your fingers quietly itching to open your book, but he was not deterred.

“I trust your journey here was pleasant?” he said.

“As pleasant as can be expected, my Lord.”

“And you find your quarters here to be suitable?”

“Indeed.”

“That is good. Will your family be attending the dance this evening?”

“I believe so.”

He smiled, satisfied and not at all deterred by your clipped, formal answers. In fact, the conversation continued like that for quite some time. Even when you made haste to escape from the shade of the tree in favour of the sun. Lord Lannister took it upon himself to escort you around the grounds with a keen interest in everything you had to say, and he was not the only one.

After a while, you were joined by Lord Karstark and Ser Harrold, all three of them vying for your attention in a manner you were wholly unaccustomed to. Your fathers banner men would never be so bold in their pursuit of his daughters, and you had never been outside the boundary of the Stormlands before now.

You were relieved when your mother finally called you to tea and disheartened some hours later when it was time for the feast and the first of the summer dances.

Still, you had no choice in the matter, though you would rather stay in your room and make good use of the chaise and your stack of books. It wasn’t just Aemond you wanted to avoid; it was court. It didn’t seem to call to you like it did to Maris and you envied her excitement and her gown.

Hers was new, the prettiest shade of sage green velvet while yours was honey yellow silk. You loathed yellow. But that was the price of being a third daughter. It had been a beautiful dress on Cassandra, now it was too old and unstylish for the eldest of the Baratheon girls.

You had complained of such maltreatments when you were younger. But your mother had always said ‘your face was your bauble’, and it had meant as little to you now as it did then.

The saving grace was your shoes, and they were beautiful indeed. Black velvet pumps which Cassandra had painstakingly embroidered with dainty flowers and vines while hers were plain.

So, deciding to at least try to enjoy the evening, you entered the hall, which was bursting with life and vibrance and, when it came time to dance, you were certainly not without partners.

In fact, you were spoiled for choice though Tyland Lannister seemed determined to commandeer your hand at every opportunity. If you were to be honest with yourself, you enjoyed the attention, and the twists and turns of each dance with greater pleasure than you’d hoped to achieve. The music was merry, and the elderflower wine drank like sugar syrup before swirling happily in your veins.

And that’s how it was for almost two weeks at court. Fun and Frivolity.

After the first few days, you’d almost forgotten the reason you didn't want to come here in the first place. You enjoyed all the lazy afternoons in the garden and looked forward to the evening entertainment with as much excitement as your sisters.

Ser Harrold, a knight of the realm and the second son to his father’s modest estate, had quickly become your favourite dance partner. Though your hand was still very much pursued by the master of ships. So much so, that your father had begun to imagine Tyland Lannister might even propose. An idea which gave you a new dread in the pit of your stomach.

So that night, some thirteen days after your arrival in King’s Landing, it was Tyland's attention which you were trying to avoid. So preoccupied with evading his advances, you couldn’t be certain just how long Aemond Targaryen had been witness to the whole scene. Only that when you noticed him, lurking in the shadows at the edges of the room, you could hardly look away.

The wine had begun to make you feel as light as a feather, but Aemond’s presence seemed to ground you to the floor like a boulder. The dance no longer feeling as merry and Ser Harrold’s arms becoming little more than a prison for Aemond’s scrutiny.

When had he returned?

Why did he look at you like that?

When the dance with Ser Harrold was finally over, you said ‘goodnight’ and retreated to your room without sharing a single word with another soul and certainly not the dragon prince.

Then in an act of self-indulgent madness, you tried to fool yourself into thinking he might have forgotten all about that day at the beach. Or at least forgotten the finer details, yet you could remember them all.

The way he had looked at you, the curve of his smile and the soft commanding sound of his voice.

You had never hated someone until then and you hated Aemond Targaryen more than anything.

Why couldn’t he have stayed away?

The next day, the routine was practically the same as every other. Breakfast in your chambers followed by an afternoon in the gardens. Only this time, the men who had been begging for your dances, could barely look you in the eye. Even Lord Lannister had no interest in the usual small talk and left the gardens almost as soon as you arrived.

You couldn’t stop the knot which formed in the pit of your stomach. Or the gnawing realisation, that while all the other young ladies were flirting and laughing with suitors, you were cast aside. A solitary figure in a crowd of couples with only your book to keep you company until it was time for tea, and you were certainly ready for it.

You’d never spent such lonely hours in the company of so many people before, and you were certain it was no coincidence.

Had Aemond told the men at court of your indiscretion?

Would he shame your family for your actions that day on the beach?

What was worse, you had nobody you could ask without risking exposure. No, better to hold your head high and remain as calm and unshaken as possible in the face of utter social annihilation.

~~~

Thank you for reading! So many people found this story so quickly which is exciting. I wrote most of this story at the start of last year and I wasn't sure if I was going to publish it but I'm glad I have. Hopefully I'll be able to post another chapter or even two before I return to work and real life in a few days. But what do we think so far? Has Aemond revealed all? Or something else?

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 1 year ago

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Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 7

A/N: I feel like an ass for posting this one, surely I am cockblocking, but this slow-burning is here for a reason! Enjoy regardless! Mentions of anatomy and some language, Y/N gets drunk and nearly blurts all.

Summary: To be loved is to be changed.

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Chapter 7

In the day, Adrian was as glorious as the sun. At night, as beautiful and haunting as the moon and its glow.

In the month you had been in the castle, you had turned the once secluded castle into a living, existing place, for you and Adrian to simply ignore the rest of the world in. It had grown not to resemble a tattered and destroyed ruin, but instead, a place Adrian could call home once again.

Adrian himself had flourished in his skin once more: where you found him to take up hobbies when you were not with him. Before was once a man, lonely beyond an age before the age of twenty, losing his parents and closest allies, now, a man you could look upon with admiration and pride. He had grown out from his enclosed shell, opening his heart to a stranger, trusting you with his life unlike those who betrayed him.

It hurt more to know that this was your final day.

You feared for Adrian’s wellbeing, whether he would grow reclused after you left him, or would he rather thrive with your farewell?

You had grown recluse yourself from the Dhampir, finding closure in the fact that you would never look upon the face of Adrian ever again. Where could you go apart from as far out from Wallachia? Nowhere was safe for a girl like me. You told yourself when you wished you could explain to Adrian—though the words would always freeze on your tongue any time you tried bringing it up.

It seemed that Adrian had almost forgotten about the promise too, and you couldn’t help but feel guilt when he spoke of promises he wanted to do for you.

“I’ll show you one day the town nearby,” he said one night, curled up by the fire as he stared into its flames. “I know you’d like it. We could buy anything you’d like: spices, dresses, jewellery.”

He spoke of a future not just with him alone, but with you co-existing beside him, and it thrilled and destroyed you to know that this promise would crumple like sand.

The day came for you to leave, silently waking with dried tears still stinging your red eyes. You had spent all that night crying before you fell to sleep, dreaming of being with Adrian, laughter shared and memories to be made. You had even kissed him, your heart fluttering as he muttered words softly in your words that gave away he did not want you to go.

'Always and forever.' His words were soft and dying in the air when you faced the morning, and your lips could still feel his against yours, a dying dream never to be lived.

You tip-toed around to not wake Adrian, gathering anything you could and folding neatly the dresses you had been given to him. They were too lovely to be ruined and deserved to be in a place that could keep its beauty.

The only things you carried on you were the same dress you came to the castle in, rags that had been sitting in the corner of the room, waiting for the day you would have to wear them. The air grew heavy with a feeling of forlorn as you walked to find the kitchen, setting yourself by the counter and waiting for the person you dreaded to upset.

It was not long until you heard familiar footsteps drawing closer, familiar honey-blond locks coming into view as the man appeared. It snapped your heart in two to see the softness in his golden eyes as if you were better than the sun itself and you were his star. That all fell apart when his smile dropped, the uncertainty washing over his face when he saw the glumness on your face.

“Has something happened?” He did not waste two seconds stepping closer towards you, giving a small gap between the two but enough that you could be up close to him. In the four weeks, it had taken some time for Adrian to grow used to touch once again, always coiling away from your closeness, before he had taken the time to build trust and reciprocate first. "Y/N?"

He was quick to reach out to you first, extending for your arm as he pulled it towards him. He was warm to the touch, and you dared not want to look upon his concerned gaze without knowing you would blubber into a mess once again.

“You remember the promise, correct?” You lamented, watching for a moment as he took in your words carefully. It was as if everything poured through just from the question, and you could just about read every emotion visible in his eyes; melancholy, regret, grief.

“Where will you go?” His voice was quiet. Don’t go, it read in his eyes.

It didn’t dawn on you, no matter how many times you came to think of it. “Some place where it is warmer, perhaps east. But that means…” your voice cracked momentarily, “Wallachia will not be a home for me.”

“But how do you know?” His calmness cracked, and beneath you could see the grief-stricken man appear, though you did not think he would be holding concern for you of all people.

You didn’t want to answer his question, despite the unknowing questions that boiled, the silence was deafening, and it hammered in your chest like the chiming of a hammer.

“I will have to leave whilst there is still light,” you squeezed Adrian’s hand before it slipped from his, “Thank you for allowing me to use your library, and… to call you a dear friend.”

You didn’t know if that pained you more to call him a friend when your feelings had bloomed for him during your time there. A friend was the only thing you could call him: why would he want anything else with you? He’s immortal, he will have lovers come and go, but none will ever be you.

“Don’t,” he called to you when he stepped out of his reach, not expecting him to call you. Your name was a whisper on his tongue, hanging in the air as if he wished to say something more to you, “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I would be overstaying here, Adrian.” You could feel tears slip from your face, but you braved not to look at him, even when you knew he was staring at you. “You said a month-”

“Please,” there it was. Pain in his voice in the way he pleaded, desperate and gentle that you didn’t think you’d see this side of him, “I don’t think… living within these walls would ever feel the same with you gone.”

He stepped out to you again.

Closer.

His hand gingerly found your chin, raising your head to meet his gaze, delicately wiping the tear collecting at the corner of your right eye. You were both silent, only staring at one another, and never did you think anyone would stare at you the way he did with you.

“You wish for me to stay?” Forever?

Your mother had told you what that feeling would be like, though she had been young and never knew the experience herself. Did Alucard’s parents experience the same when they first met?

That feeling grew within your chest, butterflies you couldn’t stop from feeling: the great emotion that one day would bless you in having. Why was it that the moment you had to leave was when it came?

‘People come and go,’ your mother told you one day when you asked about it, naïve and full of hope. ‘It hurts when it grows for those you care for.’

Yes, you understand now why it came at this moment and all the times before.

It hurt.

Love hurt when it was about to leave for the first and final time.

It was his smile, so gentle and warm, so inviting and bright – full like the sun and the beginning of spring – that you could not decline his offer.

“I would very much like that.”

Telling yourself you had gotten used to the castle was an understatement.

The rooms you were more familiar with were the ones you kept to, never straying that much to explore. You knew that there were many rooms even Adrian never went into, telling you that they held too many memories, either good or bad.

You were understanding, knowing how much the castle – his childhood home – could hold a lot of disturbance to what he went through. He told you one day that his childhood bedroom was off limits: it was after all, where he had killed his father. He mentioned it was a place too “dampened with gloom” that you knew something else had happened for him to keep that part of the castle off-limits.

It had only gotten the best of you when you told Adrian you were going to do some cleaning, leaving him as he cooked in the kitchen.

You sprinted with much glee and inquisitiveness: the endless hallways could lead you anywhere!

Roaming the halls, you remembered to stay away from the rooms you were not allowed to go to, including his old and current bedroom. It was quite easy to get lost, taking to the upper floors, where the light grew dimmer, more eerie.

The rooms as you found them didn’t hold much for you to be intrigued until you passed what was another room in another endless hallway, you spotted that this room had its door ajar.

This was certainly a room you had not been told of by Adrian.

Bravely, the room seemed to be more of an intrigue to you than any other room. Slowly peeling the door back, you stepped through.

The room is dimly lit, with a sense of sweet orange that lingers in the air. It’s his scent, sweet, alluring, inviting; just like what surrounds you. There are books of all assortments: astronomy, philosophy, ecology, history – to name a few. Knowledge spanning from decades to thousands of years back, of all cultures and dynasties long gone and remaining. Maps hung around the room, some of the entirety of Europe, the world and one finally above his desk of Wallachia.

It took longer to find literature, where you find poetry, prose, children’s stories and old fables. You’re shocked when you stumble across some romance novels, not expecting that to come from Adrian.

His desk is a display of many things: papers, books, and journals. You dare not look in his journals knowing his work is private, but something catches your gaze. Since when was Adrian into drawing?

You find one first that makes you pick it up, a sketch of his mother, only a fine-line sketch that is only shaded and not with much detail, but you recognise her from the portraits that decorate the castle.

Will you be needing a muse anytime soon? You think to yourself, jokingly. You knew it was rude to snoop, and knowing you had come across Adrian’s study, you knew you had the best chance to look around when he wasn’t there.

But when you find his sketchbook, all nosiness takes over.

The leather-bound book is beautifully decorated, with its pages filled to the brim from use. The beginning of the pages were those you recognised simply by objects that Adrian used for inspiration: a stag beetle shell, many plotted plants and flowers some you recognised from your mother’s herbs. You read the dates that dated back to almost a decade ago, impressed by his skill at such a young age.

The more you draw the pages further into the book, the older the dates get, and his practice grows. His inspirations change from objects to anatomy. You’re impressed by the way Adrian draws the human body so well. Some sketches of hands in different positions and poses, full body sketches of a mixture of men and women, some clothed and others nude.

You could feel your cheeks darken, and though it was surprising to see the natural state of the human body, art was still captivating in showing it, Adrian drew with a way of conveying vulnerability. His mother was a doctor after all.

Other pages were of human faces: more drawings of his mother and father. Another was of a different man and woman: the woman had short hair whilst the man had a scar over his right eye and a shadow of a wispy beard on his face. You now had a reference to Adrian’s friends and allies: Sypha and Trevor.

A Belmont, scholar and sleeping soldier, Adrian told you, all out for different clauses and paths but joined to meet on one path; to kill Dracula.

You had forgotten to make sure you were still alone and not spotted looking through his things when you reached the last few of the pages, recently used. Wait a minute. You had to do a double take, imagining you were seeing double. This isn’t… who I think it is.

Those eyes, were similar to you, not that you could remember where you had seen them last. It dawned on you quickly why they were a distant memory: they looked like your mother's eyes—but that was impossible if Adrian had never met or seen an image of her.

But, as if looking back through a mirror, a glimpse through time, those eyes weren’t just hers, but yours as well.

Oh. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you dared not drop the book to draw attention to where you were. You didn’t close it, despite feeling that this was intruding—it was too late for that now.

He had gotten your likeness in a way you didn’t think he could: as if you had been captured in a moment, ready to come back to life on the page. Another sketch of you, reclined with your nose in a book and laying in a way that could’ve been uncomfortable to anyone else. Another of you tying your hair back, the ribbon dangling in your mouth, eyes in heavy concentration. The final one took you by surprise: a moment where you were snuggled into the armchair, a blanket wrapped protectively around you to keep you warm.

Have I been so blinded this entire time? It seemed like this wasn’t right: did Alucard… fancy you? You scoffed, absolutely not, there was no way—though you the more you spiralled, the more it had you questioning everything.

You had been so preoccupied with what you had discovered, that you failed to suspect the presence behind you, someone standing just on the edge of the doorframe.

An awkward cough brought you back to your senses.

“Forgive me!” You stumbled, throwing the papers behind you to hide them behind your back, in hopes you were quick on your feet. You were clumsy, ineptly whipping back to look at the blond Dhampir standing just a few metres in the doorframe. “I did not hear you come in.”

Adrian was dressed simply in his shirt, trousers and boots as he did if the weather was not too cold. It was only a small subtle detail that his dark trousers were coated and dusted with a light cast of flour, as if he had nothing else to wipe but on them. His hair was also tied up, revealing his slender neck, wisps of blond tresses falling to frame his handsome angular features.

How long had he been waiting there for? You panicked, knowing that he could’ve used his speed to reach you, using his inhuman scent of smell or to pick up your heart rate to find you.

“Yes, well, you did seem rather�� occupied.” Adrian teased, though his face was incomprehensible, his movements leisurely as he ambled into the room, inspecting if anything looked out of place.

Was he just as embarrassed as how you were feeling? Regardless if he was or not, he was very good at hiding it from you.

He stopped just to the side of his desk, eyes quickly scanning as he spotted the disarray of papers, his sketchbook ‘neatly’ placed back where it looked to have been before. He did not say anything about it, instead, resuming conversation as if nothing was out of place.

“I was asking if you were free to help me downstairs. I needed assistance in deciding which spices to add to the cakes.” He continued, watching the way you shuffled to block what you were putting back on the desk.

You were not subtle in the slightest but Adrian did not make any remark for you to be snooping, rather, he watched on in visible amusement. The refined look when he raised an eyebrow, the small smirk that made you even more flustered when you were caught.

“Okay, ready.” You gestured for him to walk in front, hanging back as you took a final glance back, wondering when Adrian started drawing you.

It’s his idea when he decides the two of you should share a bottle of wine.

Though you think it’s not good to have the entire bottle, Adrian agrees upon a glass or two, sharing thoughts as the night grows dark with the creatures of the forest outside, and your worries melt for a moment on your tongue.

The wine is sweet, not though you like it, and it's hard to consume something that feels so foreign. Adrian drinks it as if it's water, and you struggle to keep up. You’re a lightweight after all, and though you’re slower, you can feel the haziness that crawls in your vision, and you swear you’re almost seeing double.

Your laughter is warmer, chatter easier, and you notice he’s closer beside you by the table when he first brings the bottle and glasses.

“This is nice,” his voice does not slur as he speaks, and you’re shocked just by how content he is in drinking glass after glass if he could. If perhaps you didn’t say anything, perhaps he would, “It’s been some time since I stopped drinking.”

“When did you stop?” You can feel a headache begin to dull your senses, and you’re feeling bolder.

Adrian seems hesitant when he looks back at you before he answers. “I stopped after a couple of days after your arrival.” He’s nervously swirling the glass in small circles on the table, a distraction. “I’m sure the smell of piss and blood wasn’t helping.”

You chortle, “No, it didn’t, but I don’t suppose I was any different. A girl smelling of chickens.”

“I did wonder why.” He says in a dry tone, but his eyes are sincere, and you find yourself staring periodically down at his lips, the glint of his sharp teeth some distraction from the wine.

“It seems funny when I say it now, but I used to have two, and they had names.”

Adrian seems surprised by this, that of all things to have named were chickens, but he coaxes you with a raised brow, intrigued, to say the least. “Tell me they had normal names.”

“Henrietta and Duchess.”

“Oh, my God,” Adrian laughs quietly, “Next you’ll say you had a pig called Duke and a horse called Lieutenant.”

“Well, the pig was called Truffle.”

“Seems almost cruel,” Adrian laughs at the idea, “I don’t think I was any different. I did have a stuffed wolf called Fluffy.”

“Hey, that’s cute though.”

You laugh at the idea, but you’re carrying a sad smile as you continue to sip slowly at your drink. “I loved those chickens. It was weird, but I treated them like humans rather than animals—livestock. They were much nicer than-” You stop yourself mid-sentence, unsure if you’re ready to continue.

Your stomach coils as if ready to lurch, for you to leap from your chair and leave to your room, but Adrian is calm and patient, running a soothing hand over yours to console you.

“Take your time,” he says with quiet empathy, and it’s enough to pull you back to reality. “I’m here.”

“After my mama’s death, I fled to the nearby town—I was on the streets for some time, hiding behind buildings and sometimes getting shelter from a sweet old lady, before I was old enough to sell myself as a servant to any passing man who needed my service.”

You felt sick to your stomach, and the wine was not helping. “I stayed in his service for almost a decade, serving his son and wife who was no older than me.” You confessed. “It all boiled down one day when I was fed up with the fucking treatment. I was beaten if I did something incorrect, slapped if I spoke when not spoken to, and something… snapped in me. I… hurt him when he hurt me.” You pushed the wine away from you, eyes welling with tears. “I wish I did more.”

“You survived,” Adrian said with a sad grimace, “You’re much braver than most I know.”

“I didn’t feel brave then,” you admitted. “I felt like a stupid little girl, not capable of anything.”

“Hey,” Adrian seems clumsy in giving close comfort, but he tried nonetheless, leaning closer to finally embrace you. He smelt of oranges and lavender, and you nearly broke down into his shoulder, “you’re the strongest person I know. The bravest witch.”

He seemed tongue-tied with his next words, eyes moving across your face as if he wished to say something that you yearned to hear. “I’m proud of you.” He finally said, but in your mind, it didn’t seem like it was what he wanted to say as if there was something he was holding back.

Was I overthinking? You thought as you pulled away from his embrace, so tempted to lean across the table and kiss him there and then, but you pulled enough restraint to not horrify the man. “Thank you, Adrian. I’m thankful I have you.” You finally said.

“I’m thankful too.” He confesses, quickly realising what he’s just said and the blush on his face is obvious as he tries to change the subject. “I will leave you to catch some sleep. I thought it would be a good idea to head into town tomorrow morning. Gather some more supplies. What do you say?”

You smile sadly, “That’s a good idea.” You’re on your feet fast enough as you say goodnight to one another before you’re speeding down the hallway to your room, wiping the tears that have not dried from your face.

When you reach your room, you slink against the inside of the door. Your head is hammering, vision is hazy. Damn for drinking so much. You groan, only listening to the crackling of the fire lit in your room, the soft luring sound of crisp pages of a book being shut as a lovely interference.

“Ah, there you are.” the voice that pulled you from your thoughts was the one thing you needed to hear, sweet as honey as the figure emerged to stand close by from where you stood. His soft locks are pulled back from his face, and he’s practically glowing in the soft ambers of your room, the fire gently burning to keep the warmth.

Your lips are pulled into a tired smile, which the Dhampir notices quickly enough to soothe you for a night of sleep. “You’re exhausted, my little witch.” He’s yanking you by your hand, directing you to your bed. “You need sleep before it comes for you first.”

“Was it so obvious?” You laugh dryly, and the lack of sleep is fast indeed; your eyes are heavy, limbs sluggish as your mind slows from the alcohol. “I can get myself to bed by myself, you know?”

“I don’t doubt you,” he scolds lightly, the way he moves you is more persistent. “Dreams help everything go away, isn’t that what your mother said?”

“Yes.” You drawl quietly, silent in watching Adrian move around you, sitting you delicately on the edge of the side of the bed. He is gentle in getting you settled for the night, removing your outer layers of clothing until you’re left in your chemise. There is nothing overtly sexual in the way he undresses you, more so there’s such a tenderness to his touches that it almost leaves you weeping.

When you’re ready, he follows, undressing until he stands in his nightgown. You watch as he goes to as he crawls onto the other side to lay there. Shutting his eyes, his light blond hair cascades around the pillow like a halo, his body silent and still as stone.

You’re staring for some time before he speaks up, aware even without having to open your eyes. “Are you going to watch me sleep or are you going to join me?” He cracks one eye open, full of mirth as he catches the exact moment your face brightens.

“Right.” You scootch over closer, lying stiffly beside him on your back, not daring to get any cosier before he stretches like a cat, catching you by surprise as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in close.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, little witch.” He jokes, humming as he rests his head into the crook of your neck. This is all so real, and you dare fear if you fall asleep, it’ll all be gone, a fading memory to die in the back of your mind. “Am I that cold?”

“No,” you finally relax in his hold, having turned to face him, a feeling you wish not to ever forget. “It feels nice.”

“I’m sure one thing could make you feel better,” his eyes are open, watching you almost hawkishly, scooting himself closer. “Though, I’d have to know what you think.”

“What is it?”

He doesn’t answer you directly, but his eyes tell you what you’ve been waiting for. It’s the way his gold eyes glance from your eyes down to your lips, way too slowly before coming back up to meet your flustered state.

Neither of you make the first move, your heart is hammering too fast that you can barely keep up with your racing thoughts. You know he can hear how fast it's pumping, thunderous and dreadful against your ribs. It feels like it could explode any second.

Should I wait for him to lean in? Or would it be better for me to meet him halfway? To see how he reacts.

With your mind racing, your body moves on its own, ignoring your many questions and moving with little patience. A hand finds his cheek, stroking his cheekbone in contemplation, soft to the touch that you gasp from just the exhilaration alone.

You’re not waiting for him when you’re leaning close to him, closer and closer until his face is inches from yours. Your noses bump as you catch the final moment where his eyes flutter shut as you’re copying, stretching over until your lips meet his.

You didn’t know how long you had been counting for this moment to happen. Drinking him in, he is the sun, and you are a secluded plant, waiting for his rays to keep you from shrivelling. His lips are soft, neither warm nor cool as your contact is chaste and quick, and all that is gone when you’re not chasing for more-

“No,” you rasp as you pull yourself from him, leaping up to sit on the edge of the bed. “This is wrong.”

“Oh?” He doesn’t seem dissatisfied or enraged, rather it seems more like a question. He is calm when he asks, voice a soft rumble. “Is it wrong because you wish to continue? Or because you wish to experience this with him?”

You slump in your spot, guilt overflowing your body like a wave, ready to drown. “It’s wrong because… I’m using him.” You hug yourself, ready to weep aloud from it all. “I’m using him for this twisted fantasy, just to feel happy.”

This fake version of Adrian is collected, reaching your side of the bed as he places a consoling hand on your shoulder. “Happy… that you want to imagine a future with him?”

“Yes. Is that so wrong to have?” You sigh exasperated. “I want him to be happy, but I fear… I will never give him that happiness.”

“He’s been through so much already.” You continue. “I think of him all the time: like how the sun can’t live without the moon.”

You’re completely consumed by Adrian: mind, body and soul and it aches that this crush will continue to remain as one. His acts of kindness have completely floored you, confusing you to the point that you were left over questioning every small act he did for you.

The night is long and you’re left distraught, conjuring a version of him that you hope can give you comfort. “What do I do?”

“Tell him the truth.”

Your head snaps almost drastically to glare at the fake version, who simply looks just as perplexed as you. “I’m just a manifested form you created of him in your head whilst inebriated. I’m the wrong person you should be talking to.”

Sighing defeatedly, you look to him for security. “I’m… confused.”

“How so?”

“Well, I know he sees me as a friend, but he’s just so thoughtful. He carries me back to bed, and we spend all day together. I mean, he drew sketches of me for fuck’s sake—that’s saying something, isn’t it?”

“He seems lonely too.” ‘Adrian’ answers, but it’s a reasonable answer that could be what you’re looking for, regardless of how you’re feeling.

“I know, I know. He’s awkward, but it can’t just be out of friendship.”

“Tell him in the morning,” he says, “you can’t see for yourself if he’s quick to reciprocate your feelings for him. Perhaps then you’ll be able to cuddle something that’s flesh and bone.”

You chortle at his words, knowing how uncanny and realistic he is sitting beside you. “Can we just- can we just cuddle for the rest of the night? Just so I don’t feel so lonely.”

Alucard gives you a sorrowful smile, pulling you into a side embrace. “You realise I won’t be there by morning?”

It’s a sad realisation, but you come to accept it. “I know. I just… want to imagine feeling something for once.”

“Of course, my little witch,” he kisses your forehead lovingly, leading you both back down to lie on the bed. The bed doesn’t feel as big when you share it with another, now in the fond embrace of the Dhampir you conjured in your mind.

“Sleep well, Y/N.” He tells you all the right things you want to hear, the lull of sleep pulls you in deeper and deeper, his voice growing quieter. “I’m still here with you, no matter what.”

“I love you,” you slur as darkness consumes you, the heaviness of your body pulling you into a sleep you need. You don’t feel upset when you don’t hear a response, just the arms of his embrace.

By the time early morning comes, the other side of the bed is cold, and the ghost of Adrian’s arms remains.

It’s not just knowing that the person on the other side of the hallway would never know how you felt, but the sense that you could never go back to seeing him just as a dear friend.

A/N:

This was a long one to write, but I hope you enjoyed it!

#castlevania alucard x reader #castlevania fanfic #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #adrian tepes #reader x alucard tepes #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #reader is a witch #half black! reader #mixed race reader #part 7 #witch! reader #alternate universe

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glassartpeasants · 9 months ago

Text

Run Rabbit Run .08

Yandere!Eustass Kid x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, reader having a crisis, pregnancy, angst, probably slight cringe cause i've been sleep deprived and think everything good idea then, and most likely other shit i can't think of atm

A/N: apparently my body can't decide whether to write Kid or Kidd cause i wrote Kidd half way through this after spelling it 'Kid' in the last two fic's. So please bare with my stupidity

music playlist

@rebeccawinters @iggy5055 @dairygrrl @childconnoisseur @menifire1092 @nerdgeekandeverysweet-blog @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10 pt.11

~~~

Even though you’ve been counting down the months to finally reach Sabaody, a part of you yearned for just a few more weeks with G-5. Now, with only three more days till you dock at the archipelago, the excitement is palpable. Time seemed to have a mind of its own, neither hastening nor slowing. They say time flies when you're having fun, and indeed it did. Four months dwindled to three, then two, and before you knew it, you were down to mere days.

You couldn’t wait to see everyone, to reveal the person you’ve become during the two-year separation. The anticipation to demonstrate your newfound devil fruit powers and everything Smoker and G-5 have instilled in you. To prove that you've earned the title of a Straw Hat. That even in the face of pregnancy, you stand strong, capable of protecting yourself and your friends. You’ve toiled day and night to hone your abilities and devil fruit powers, all while nurturing the life growing within you.

Tashigi helped you in buying things that’d make your life a bit easier. Pregnancy pillows, maternity clothes, vitamins to keep yourself healthy, and everything in between. She even convinced you to write a journal for every day of your pregnancy. It did help a lot more than you thought it would. You wrote what you wouldn’t tell anyone else and how you truly felt about your situation that day. Some good and some bad.

A wave of emotions would often overwhelm you when something triggered memories of your time with Kidd. The echo of people calling your name, the rumble of thunder, all reminiscent of your time spent in the shadows. While you knew you’d never be the same person you were before Kidd, you have strived to heal from all the things that have transpired.

It wasn’t working very well, though.

Looking at any reflective surface has your heart shattering when your eyes land on the visible scars on your body. Trying to picture yourself without the scars was impossible as you struggled not to imagine Kidd in the image as well. It was almost easier to pretend you were born with your scars rather than think about the one that gave them to you. Even in everyday life, he'd pop into your head when you weren’t thinking about him. Closing your eyes, you still see his amber eyes staring right back at you.

Being alone with your thoughts always makes things difficult. If it were too quiet, you’d hear his voice whispering in your ear. Feeling his fingers touching your skin when you wore short-sleeved shirts was also common. Times when you were so close to slumber, you’d start to smell his presence. The only thing that seems to calm you down now is a tune your mother used to sing to you.

It had been sealed away in your memories for years, and now you managed to remember the words and tune after having a dream about her singing it to you. You watched her rock yourself as she sang the little song before tucking you in. Her face was a blur, but you could still hear her. At least you could still remember her voice. Yet when she stopped singing, you immediately woke up.

Since then, you’ve been subconsciously humming it when working around the ship. You remember getting embarrassed when Tashigi asked you what you were singing. When you told her that it was something your mother sang to you when you were a baby, she got stars in her eyes.

“You should sing to them! I heard it’s extremely beneficial to the baby!” You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Your more invested in this pregnancy than I am, and I'm the one carrying the baby.”

“I heard it’s great for bonding and-” She stopped herself before she could finish. You knew what she was trying to say and that there was no ill will behind it.

“It’s okay. I know you meant well. Maybe if the situation were different, I’d be more excited. But I don’t want to get too close to them since I’m putting them up for adoption.”

“I’m sorry. I forgot about that. I guess I just got excited for something other than listening to men yelling and fighting.”

“No, I promise it’s okay! Things happen. You meant well, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Leaning against the railing, you look out at the setting sun. The beautiful colors you memorize as you imagine sailing off with the Straw Hats. Happy laughter as you’d hear them tell their stories of their adventures from the two years you’ve been separated. You couldn’t wait to hear Luffy’s infectious laughter or see Robin's calming smile. Only three more days until you make it to Sabaody then-...

…What then?

You’d still be pregnant, on the run, and scared that any second Kidd’s going to show up and whisk you away. Even after you put up the baby for adoption, your body would still look pregnant for a while before going back to normal. Your body would wonder where the baby had gone and when it’d come back. How were you supposed to live life normally after this? Knowing that you have a baby out there that you’ll never get to see grow up. Always worry if they're safe and scared that Kidd might find them and use them as leverage to make you come back.

But at the same time, you couldn’t take them with you. The sea is no place to raise a child, let alone a baby. They could fall overboard, get kidnapped by Marines or rival pirate groups, hell, they could get ill at sea, and you wouldn’t have the medicine to make them better!

Anyway, you looked at it, it felt like nothing was the right choice. The negatives outweighed the positives in your head. It’s possible that everything you’ve experienced has made you an internal pessimist. That, or maybe you were just thinking logically. Either or, it still sucked.

“What are you thinking about?” Tashigi’s voice pulled you from your negative thoughts as she stood beside you.

“Everything and nothing at all. Three days, and then we’ll be enemies. Feels weird knowing that.”

“Yeah. It’s gonna be weird not having you around. I’m gonna be stuck as the only girl once again.” You laugh a bit at her admission.

“If only we’d be able to call one another. But it’s too much of a risk in case any higher-ups were to find out.” Both of you sigh before turning to each other.

“Why do you have to be a pirate?”

“Why do you have to be a Marine?” The two of you laugh as you see the stars start to appear in the night sky.

“The stars are pretty, huh? Maybe we can find constellations if we look hard enough.” You can see Tashigi thinking out of the corner of your eye before her head perks up.

“What if we take pictures? Like a group picture? We’d be able to remember each other even if we can’t talk.”

“You're right! We can do it tomorrow morning! I heard it’s supposed to be sunny and clear!”

“Perfect! We can go around telling the other Marines about it, and they’ll all agree. Vice Admiral Smoker, we might have to convince or drag.”

“I think it’ll be worth the extra chores.”

~~~

As you lay in your bed once more, you look out over the multiple sleeping marines. In a few days' time, you’ll never see them again. If you do, then you’d have to fight them. Once you get back to the Straw Hats, you’ll undoubtedly have a bounty from the government. Then you’ll genuinely be ‘enemies,’ but the thought of hurting any of them made you want to cry. How could you hurt those who took you in, no matter who you were? They risked getting in trouble and put themselves in danger just for you.

Maybe if your forced to fight them, you could just run away? Usopp does it a lot, so why couldn’t you?

You move slightly to get more comfy, only to hear a ‘thud’ come from the side of your bed. Gently moving to the best of your pregnant abilities, you manage to see a particular journal that you haven’t read since the first week you met the G-5.

Heat’s journal.

Biting your lip, you mentally fight to figure out whether you should read it or not. After taking months to try and process Heat’s internal thoughts and the truth about your home, perhaps you were ready to read the rest of it.

Scooting closer to the edge of the bed, you manage to grab the book by the tips of your fingers. You bring it up just enough for your other hand to hold it. A slight pain rummages through your body as you try to bring it up. Thankfully, you manage to pull it up just enough to grab it with your other hand. Snuggling into the bed more, you use the moon as a light source to read the book.

Something happened. I don’t know what it was exactly, but whatever it was, put (Y/N) in the hospital on the island we’re currently docked at. No one but Killer and Kidd himself were allowed to see her. Doctors must have been in and out of that room when (Y/N) first entered.

I can’t see (Y/N) trying to kill herself. Not with the small determination I can still see in her eyes. It had to be something involving Kidd. If Kidd can put a hot metal branding on her, then I don’t think he’d be above doing something to land her in the hospital.

I’ve talked to Wire about his thoughts on what could have happened. He told me that while he saw nothing, he heard multiple thuds and yelling coming from beneath the deck. Immediately upon hearing that, a sour taste filled my mouth. I have to go down and see for myself the room Kidd has been keeping (Y/N) in. There has to be something down there that could tell me something.

Of course, Kidd didn’t want his crew to know he almost killed you. Typical. What did Heat say when he saw you come back from the hospital? When what was the starting time when you forgot your memories. Gently skimming through the pages, you found the entry you were looking for.

I don’t think my eyes have ever widened as much as they did when I saw Kidd and (Y/N) holding hands. There was a bright smile on (Y/N)’s face when she finally came aboard the deck. Her legs are wobbly, and it looks like she’s learning how to walk again. She had bandages covering her head. Behind her and Kid was a doctor along with Killer.

Obviously, somethings not right. (Y/N) or Kidd must have hit her head so hard that a real doctor is needed. While I know it’s a very cliche scenario, I think that she must have hit her head so hard that her memory fogged. And if that’s so, what lies had Kidd told her already? Maybe if I'm able to get the doctor alone, I can get some information.

So Heat saw you the day you returned to the Victoria Punk after the incident? You were shocked that Kidd didn’t bring you back to the ship during the night. But thankfully, he was too stupid, and it allowed Heat to see the first part of the aftermath in real-time.

You don’t remember the first week or two when you got back to the Victoria. Not the doctors or leaving the hospital. It was probably for the best, though. You don’t need any more trauma than you already have.

“What were his thoughts during those five months?” Looking back at the marines to ensure they were sleeping, you flip through the pages again.

Caught (Y/N) staring out to sea earlier before the night entirely took over. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to her, honestly. I felt like I was going insane trying to figure out how or if I should help her now. She looks so happy now, but at the same time, her happiness is based on lies and blood.

Why did this have to happen? What sins did (Y/N) do in a past life that made this her reality? One minute, she was living her life, then the next, she’s stuck in a storage room on a pirate ship. I try not to think how alone she must have felt before this incident. Always being stuck in the dark and only seeing the same people over and over again. Me talking to her can only do so much. It won’t bring back her parents or friends. Nor will it bring back her home.

It still eats me knowing that I’m the reason this woman has no one left. No friends or family. Well, there’s those Straw Hats she’s told me about.

I remember them from Sabaody. Their captain was a strange one, but it did seem like he cared for his crew. If he’s willing to risk his life by storming Impel Down and Navy headquarters just to save his brother, then I think if there is any place or pirate crew for her to be in, it’d be the Straw Hats.

Maybe if I mention Saboady, it’ll spark something and clear the fog that’s invaded her mind.

"If only you knew Heat. It was the thing that made me realize somethings not right.” For a Kidd Pirate, he truly was a fallen angel in disguise. While you’ll never forgive him for what he did to your home, he proved that almost everyone deserves a second chance.

Holy shit. I can hear my heart beating in my ears. I haven’t run as quickly and quietly as I could in forever. Not to mention the underlying threat of getting caught giving (Y/N) a devil fruit.

Finding the damn thing was entirely on accident but a pain in the ass to bring on the ship without anyone noticing. Even stealing the fruit was a feat in itself. I don’t know how that fisherman found it or what he was planning on doing with it, but in the end, it’s going to a better cause.

I managed to have (Y/N) eat it by luring her outside the dining hall earlier. When I watched her eat it all, it made a slight ease wash over me. At least now, she’d have a bit more of a fighting chance against Kidd if he did anything.

I feel bad that I couldn’t tell her everything right then and there, but I was already pushing it by being so close to everyone, especially with Killer being somewhere on deck. I didn’t want to cause a scene and have Kidd freak out or anything. The longer he’s in the dark, the safer it is for (Y/N) and myself.

Honestly, I thought Killer would have knocked some sense into Kidd when he found out about (Y/N). I was obviously very wrong.

“If anything, he was just as insane as Kidd. Fueling his crazed thoughts and obsession. I still remember that dumb conversation I heard between him and Kidd about boarding up the storage room.” It pissed you off more that if it weren’t for Killer’s mask, you probably would have put two and two together quicker. Facial expressions are everything.

I caught (Y/N) staring at the sky again. Thankfully, Killer and Wire were on the opposite side of the ship, so I was finally able to talk to (Y/N) alone. She didn’t know what I made her eat initially, which shocked me. Maybe she hadn’t done anything to trigger it yet.

We both found out pretty quickly what her devil fruit power was, though.

I was trying to tell her that everything she knew about Kidd was a lie. That her life was a lie. I wanted to be more collected and calm about it, but how do you carefully say something like that? It was hard seeing her eyes flash all her emotions, but it soon turned to pain when a harsh shock hit my hands. It felt like a burning hot pole went straight through my hands.

It hurt like a bitch, but the pain subsided when I saw her looking at her hands. When I also looked at them, I saw electricity slither across her hands. I watched her put her hands together and was speechless when a ball of pure electricity formed. She started panicking when the ball was getting too big for her to control and starting to hurt her. I told her to throw it out to sea, and when she did, I felt like I was watching the moon shrink. It was so bright and slightly calming. The farther it went, the more at ease I felt. (Y/N) had a chance. She had a chance to defend herself and run away.

And I’ll be there to make sure she’s safe.

Tears fall profusely down your face, reading the last line. How can the world be so cruel? All he wanted to do was help, and yet he lost his life.

You go to read the next page only to see it’s blank. Feeling your throat dry, you start skimming through the rest of the pages, hoping to see more writing, yet there is nothing. It felt like your heart had been ripped directly from your chest. That was the last thing Heat has ever written, and it just had to be the most heartbreaking thing to read.

Curling up as best you can, considering your belly, you hold Heat’s journal close to your chest. You try your best not to sob as you don’t want to wake up the rest of the Marines sleeping next to you. Between sniffles and the slight shaking as you try to control your breathing, you whisper to yourself in hopes that wherever Heat is, he’ll hear you.

“Thank you.”

~~~

Another island was reduced to ashes after falling victim to Eustass Kidd’s wraith. A once lush and thriving island is now in flames and crumbling as the ruthless pirate searched tirelessly for a certain someone last seen there.

“God fucking damnit! When I get my hands on whatever Marines are holding her, I’m going to kill every single one of them! They’ll wish they never got involved when I break each of their bones!” Kidd’s voice boomed across the town as his amber eyes scanned everywhere.

Where are you?! Why aren’t you here?!

“Kid.” Killer’s voice breaks through the brute's rage, making him turn his head.

“What Killer?!”

“We’ve searched everywhere, and there's no sign of her. It’s not like we can ask anyone either since everyone has evacuated before we arrived.”

Ever since the incident on Halyard Island, as soon as your location was revealed in the paper, people would evacuate their homes to try to save their families and avoid the unstable tornado of destruction that was Eustass Kidd.

Some people stayed because it’d been their home since birth, and they’d rather die than leave it defenseless. There have been rebellions to try to stop Kidd, but they were always snuffed out the moment Kidd saw them. The same could be said for any Marines that were sent to stop him. Getting sent on a mission to any island that you had been spotted at was a death wish. Sometimes, the Marines were too late, and Kidd had already destroyed the island. But when Kidd would see them, he wouldn’t let any Marines leave until he talked to each and every single one of them. And since none of them had you, none of them would leave the island alive.

Your name had become a jinx to any Marine that spoke it. Speaking your name would always have the Marine that spoke it sent out on the next mission to stop Kid from destroying yet another island just to find you. And since none of them had you, they’d never come back alive to say what they’ve experienced.

After being the ‘cause’ of death for so many Marines, some rookies have given you the nickname ‘Devil’s Darling.’ It was a joke at first, but as the death toll rose and how Kidd’s name got more infamous, more and more people adopted it. And with a nickname like that, more people have come to hate you.

While you haven’t done anything, the fact is that if it weren’t for you escaping, no one would have gotten hurt. If only you had bit the bullet, no one would have lost their lives. Many victims of Kidd’s rage blame you for it. Anger and fear take over the hearts of many, and to the civilians of the New World, you’ve become as feared and hated as the man hunting you down.

The government had become more conflicted on where to stand with you. While you were technically innocent, the people have been nagging them to put an official bounty on your head. If they did, you’d only be wanted alive. The power they could hold if they managed to capture you. You could be the key to finally catching and imprisoning Eustass Kidd.

And Kidd knew all of this.

He knew the hatred the people had started to hold for you. How they’d give you to him if they managed to recognize and grab you before you left the island. In a way, he had the whole New World in his hand. Their hatred and fear was and will be the town’s own undoing.

The only people stopping him were fucking journalists who don’t say or do a thing when they see you. They are so desperate for a story and to lead him on that they don’t care about how they’ve helped in the destruction.

“Of course, she isn’t here. Fucking hate those journalists and Marines.” Kidd kicked a smoldering piece of wood in anger. Ashes fly to the sky as it did nothing to soothe his rage.

They don’t understand that he needs you. He dreams of you every night. Dreams of you laying next to him and kissing his face. Some where you were holding his child, soothing them to sleep. Humming a small tune before noticing him and smiling. You’d say something to him, but he could never remember what it was when he woke up.

And while there were dreams, nightmares followed suit. Nightmares of you falling into the ocean and sinking to the bottom with your hand outstretched for Kidd to grab and save you. Or the times when you’d be running from Marines to him only for you to get shot as soon as he had you in your arms. The nightmares plagued him much more than he dreamt of you. He’s always had nightmares when you weren’t lying next to him. Ever since the first night you’ve slept with him in his bed, he’s never been able to sleep alone without waking up sometimes during the night. The warmth your body gave him while you slept, go thim addicted.

Those first few months you left and joined those damn Straw Hats, the same nightmare happened every night. It replayed the scene of you sailing away from him over and over again. No matter what, those months without you behind closed doors were pure hell for Kidd. You were just gone from his life after being by his side for a year and a half. He’d never get to kiss you or hold you close again.

But just as Killer tried to get Kidd over you, he saw you.

He was fighting a pacifista next to that dweeb Trafalgar Law when he turned his head, and there you were. You were running as fast as you could, and there he saw you. What you were running from, he didn’t know, but what he did know was that you were alone. No Straw Hats or Marines to take you away now. You were his for the taking once more, and this time, he’d make sure you knew it-

“Earth to Kidd!” Blinking a few times, Kidd’s pulled from his memories by Killer snapping his fingers in his face.

“I was thinking! What is it?”

“Haven’t you noticed a pattern? How each island she’s at, she gets closer and closer to the Navy Headquarters?” A pit filled Kidd’s stomach hearing Killer’s words.

“What are you saying, Killer? Spill it!”

“What if their taking her to the safety of Navy Headquarters? Or worse, Impel Down?” Kidd grits his teeth at the thought. No way in hell was he gonna let those fuckers take you.

“Any Marine ship we see, attack. Don’t care if they're not in our course. No Marine ship will get past the Victoria. Search every part of the Marine ship, and if she isn’t there, sink the ship to the bottom of the sea.”

“And the Marines on it?”

“Kill them all.”

~~~

“You wanted to see me, Vice Admiral? If it’s about the pictures we did yesterday, I have some here if you want to choose one.-”

“Sit. We need to talk.” Your heart stopped for a second, but you managed to snap back and sit on the chair in front of his desk. The way he sat in his chair behind the desk made you bite the inside of your cheek. When Tashigi told you that he wanted to see you, you were nervous. She said that while she didn’t know why he wanted to, you had no need to be scared.

Obviously, she was wrong.

“O-Oh? What about?” You can feel your palms sweat as the room seems to heat up.

“The government has finally put up a bounty for you.” Hearing those words come from Smoker's mouth made time stop as thousands of scenarios played through your head. Would he turn you in?

“But I haven’t done anything! Why do I have a bounty?!”

“You haven’t done anything. But Kidd has.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“He’s been destroying islands, villages, and Marine ships nonstop. Anything in his path has become a victim of his rage. According to headquarters, we’ve lost a lot of good men to him. Rookies, Vice Admirals, and Admirals even have been killed. His bounty has tripled in the last six months. Wouldn’t shock me if it raises the next time the new bounty posters come up.” You were speechless. How many people have been hurt or killed because of you? So many deaths for simply living. This has to be a nightmare.

“I don’t understand. Why do I have a bounty for things he’s done? I’m not out here hurting people!” Smoker sighed before running a hand through his hair.

“They want to use you to lure Kidd so they can capture him. That and many people of the New World are treating you as much of a threat as kid himself is.”

“I’ve never hurt anyone! I hate Kidd as much as they do, so why do they hate me?...”

“Fear. Kidd’s insanity has caused fear to cover the entire New World. Seeing your name and last known location in the paper is a death wish for the island you were last seen at. I don’t know how these damn journalists keep spotting you no matter what disguise we put you in.”

“It’s like they’re actively looking for me. Why are they so determined to find me? People have been hurt, yet they don’t care!” Guilt starts to eat at you as the thought of countless people getting hurt because of your problems eats at your heart.

“First Heat…now this? Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?” You whisper to yourself as you lay your hands on your thighs before gripping your pants tightly. Tears start to whelm in your eyes as you bite your lip. The images of people's faces you’ve never seen before start to pop up in your mind as if to make you suffer more. The survivor's guilt already consumed you after Heat’s death, but now, with having so much more ‘blood’ on your hands, the pain was unbearable.

“Heat? Where have I heard that name before?”

“He was a crewmate on Kidd’s ship. He’s…no longer with us.”

“A Marine kill him? I don’t think I’ve heard of any Kidd Pirates getting sent to Impel Down.”

“No. Kidd did.” Even though you spoke between sobs, SMoker still managed to catch your words. He was stunned to hear such a thing. Killing his own crew? If he can do that without remorse, what else is he willing to do?

“He helped me escape the first time I was stuck with Kidd. He undid the chain that was connected to a collar Kidd had me wear and told me to run. When he saw that I had gotten captured again, he tried to help me again, but…”

“But?”

You ran as fast as you could around teh deck to try and find Heat and Kidd. In the dark, the whole boat felt like a maze. Each passing second was an eternity. How can you find them in time?

“Your fucking stupid to think I wouldn’t notice how you're trying to play hero! At first, I gave you the benefit of the doubt when you let her go the first time. But now, when everything’s good, you're trying to ruin it!” Kidd’s voice rang in your left ear, making you stop in your tracks.

“What are you talking about Kidd? Are you drunk or something?”

“Don’t play dumb! You know damn well what I’m talking about! Your telling (Y/N) shit she doesn’t need to remember! Telling her things that’ll ruin what I’ve worked so hard for! She’s happy, and you want her to be sad?!”

“That’s not happiness, Kidd! Her ‘happiness’ is based on lies! I know I’m not the greatest person. I have skeletons in my closet, but what you're doing is insane!” Hearing Heat bite back makes you dash towards the two voices.

Just then, a few loud thumps accompanied by a cough echoed across the deck. A bang was soon heard right after, and it only made you run faster. When you finally made it to the source, your horrified to see Kidd with his back facing you and a bloody, jagged knife in his hand. In front of him, you see Heat on the deck with his back leaning against the railing. Red starts to seep through his clothes, as you can hear his breathing become erratic. You watched him cough harshly and see droplets of blood shooting out from his mouth.

“I don’t remember asking for your input, Heat. I won’t let you ruin this for me. If only you had minded your business, then none of this would have to happen.” Heat gives Kidd a strong glare before laughing at him. His teeth covered in blood as he smiled at Kidd.

“She’ll find out. It may not be by me, but your house of cards is crumbling, Kidd. She’s gonna find out whether you like it or not.” You can hear Kidd crack his neck at Heat’s words.

“Not to mention, she and the rest of the crew are gonna wonder what’s happened to me. How are you gonna explain that?”

“I can just say you fell overboard. Since your a devil fruit user, you’ll sink to the bottom. The crew will believe it, and so will (Y/N).”

“Doubt it. She’s not stupid, Kidd. She’s gonna remember everything that’s happened. Her home, friends, family, and everything you’ve done to her, she’s gonna remember. And when she does, I’ll be laughing in hell.” You watch Kidd charge at Heat with the knife clutched tightly in his hand.

“No!” Running from your hiding spot, you jump in front of Heat. Despite the fear that coursed through you, you spread your arms out to a T so you can protect him from your knife-wielding lover. Your arrival brought silence among the three of you.

“(Y/N)...” Glancing back to Heat, you see the shock in his eyes. Your heart bleeds as Heats breath becomes more ragged with each second that passes.

“(Y/N)! What are you doing?! You need to get away from him! He’s working for the Marines! He’s a traitor!” Biting your lip between your teeth, you try not to cry as your lover lies directly in your face so casually.

A strong, familiar tingling feeling circulated through your arms and legs as you stood in front of Heat. Buzzing rings in your ears as the feeling grows stronger as you anticipate Kidd’s next move.

“Move (Y/N). I’m trying to protect you! He’s going to hurt you, it’s not safe next to him.” Looking into Kidd’s eyes, you stand yoru ground and still stand in his path. You can feel your heart race as he reaches out to you. The feeling of his fingertips from his real arm just barely touching your wrist before a loud ZAP could be heard echoing across the Victoria Punk.

“Son of a bitch!” Kid recoils his hand back and tries brushing it against his red feathered coat. The buzzing of the zap still ringing in your ears as you quickly turn your attention to Heat. You're quick to start inspecting him for more wounds but can only see one. A stab wound dangerously close to the heart but at a perfect position for it to be in the lungs. While Kidd missed the heart, he managed to puncture a lung which could be just as fatal. It also explains the coughing up of blood.

“Heat! Hang on! Everything will be okay! Just give me a second!-”

“Where did you get devil fruit powers?...” You stutter as you try to figure out a lie to say. Yet, you watch Heat give Kidd a bloody smirk. From that, it didn’t take long for Kidd to put two and two together.

“You gave her devil fruit powers?! I’m going to fucking kill you, you bastard!” Your heart almost stops completely as you see Kidd stomping towards the two of you. The way his face looked so sinister made it feel like you were living another nightmare.

Quick to jump to your feet again, you place yourself between Heat and Kidd. The buzzing continued, and you watched as electricity slithers around your arms and legs, helping you give off a threatening aura.

“Don’t you dare hurt him, Kidd!” Despite the electricity covering you, Kidd still reaches out. Just as you watch him reach for your arm, he changes direction and grabs your hair. With a harsh tug, Kidd throws you behind him. Your body hits against the hard wooden deck with a ‘thunk.’

You can feel the air being knocked out of your lungs as tears prickle your eyes. As you struggle to get over the pounding in your head and the ache in your body, you hear Heat cough harshly again. When you open your eyes to look at the two men, your eyes widen in horror as you watch Kidd hold Heat up by the throat. Lifting him to his feet, you see Heat struggle to get Kidd’s metal hand off his throat.

“Enjoy the bottom of the sea Heat! Say hi to the sea kings that’ll feast on your corpse, will ya?” Jumping to your feet despite still being dizzy, you dash towards Kidd and Heat. But just as you took three steps in, you watched as Kidd threw Heat against the railing, making him tumble over it and fall off the boat.

Running to the railing and praying that he’s simply hanging on, your hopes were crushed as soon as you heard the heartbreaking sound of water splashing. Leaning over the edge to see if you could throw him a rope, you only had time to see bubbles rising to the water's surface before Kidd grabbed you by the hair and began to drag you away.

“Kidd found out about it. My devil fruit powers wouldn’t be a thing if it weren’t for Heat. If it wasn’t for him, who knows how long I would have been stuck with Kidd and his web of lies.”

“How long has it been since his death?” While he could see that this was obviously a sensitive topic for you, perhaps if you spoke about it, it might loosen whatever burden his death has caused.

“A week had passed after his death when you guys found me. So, as long as I’ve been here plus a week.” Letting out a hum, Smoker continued to listen.

“It’s all my fault…If only I had been more careful then maybe he’d still be here. He’d still be alive instead of at the bottom of the sea.”

“I watched Kidd kill him. I saw Kidd kill the only friend I had and there was nothing I could do about it!”

‘That explains a lot. There’s a lot more layers of trauma she hasn’t told me or Tashigi about. If there's something that traumatic she’s keeping to herself, what else could be going on inside that she’s not talking about?’

“There are times when I feel like he’s haunting me. I see him sometimes in my nightmares. Or times when I’m leaning against the railing and go to look down at the sea only to see Heat standing beside me. But when I go to check if he’s really there, it’s always an empty space. I’ve caught glimpses of him staring at me through the crowd. People walk back and forth and I see him staring at me. But then somebody walks in front of him, and then he’s gone!” Smoker watches as your body shakes and tears begin pouring down your face. You grip your uniform pants even harder as you try to stabilize yourself as you begin to hyperventilate.

“Every time I see him, I don’t see the Heat I know. I see him as a corpse. No matter what he’s always just staring at me with lifeless eyes. It always looks like he’s…”

“At the bottom of the sea?”

“Yeah. Down there.” A minute os silence passes before SMoker speaks.

“You shouldn’t feel guilty for his death. From how much you’ve told me, it sounds like he knew the risks that came with trying to set you free. That he’d be putting his own life in danger to help yours. Do you think he’d want you to feel guilty for a sacrifice he was willing to make?”

“No.”

“Then don’t blame yourself for something that someone did of their own free will.”

“Yes, Vice Admiral.” While Smoker knew a single sentence wouldn’t fix all the trauma Heat’s death had obviously caused, he supposed it was better to get it off your chest. With Heat’s death, along with the people Kidd’s hurt in your name lingering in your mind, he can’t imagine the toll it’s taken on you.

~~~

Today’s the day. According to Tashigi, you guys should be at Sabaody before 3 pm. After months of training and pregnancy, along with your time with Kidd, you’ll finally be able to return to the Straw Hats.

It feels unreal. Almost as if it’s a dream. Yet, the dangers of Sabaody didn’t slip your mind. Bounty hunters, potential civilians willing to hunt you down, and the navy waiting to use you as bait. All odds were against you.

You did know the sunny was docked at tree 41, so maybe you could have G-5 bring you close but not too close to the sunny? The closer you are to it, the safer it’ll be for you. Well, you and the baby.

Not a second goes by where it’s not on your mind. Any time you move, you have to be cautious you don’t hit your tummy on anything. Eating foods became a test as foods you used to love, you now despise. Now, you're studying foods that are healthy for the baby and what’s not. Anything an over-paranoid pregnant woman does, you did. Even though you're gonna give up the baby for adoption when the time comes, you are gonna make sure the baby is healthy.

There was a nagging feeling that ate at you whenever you were alone. Sometimes, you could feel the baby kick whenever you tapped your belly purposefully or on accident. It was as if they were responding to you. If they could feel the vibrations from a simple tap, could they also hear you talk about not wanting them? Even if six months old, what if? You knew it was impossible for them to understand you, but the nagging feeling never went away.

Maybe when you reunite with the Straw Hats, that nagging feeling will fade away.

~~~

Another art thing. not really proud of it but it is what it is

#one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass captain kid x reader

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chaifootsteps · 2 months ago

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*sighs* Hello, Chai, this is Metallica Anon with a bit of a lengthy post. 🤘

It's been a while since you last heard from me. Mainly because I've been busy with life, getting sick with the flu earlier this month, and often times coming onto your Tumblr when the ask box is locked.

Last time you heard from me, I told you I was going to see Metallica live that weekend. I did... twice. I'll make the Metallica gushing brief. Both shows were fantástica and they had different setlists with no repeated songs. They even played "Leper Messiah" on the Friday show... which segways into the main subject of this rant.

Yep, I'm ranting about Viv again. More specifically, I have this issue involving her... *ahem*

Why can't I move on from her and her shows?!

Why am I still thinking about vile woman and her shit-shows? Why am I still reading fanfics and viewing or even commissioning fanart of her shows? Why am I still even dreaming about her shows?! It's like my mind is forever clouded in a thick red smog. I honestly can't fathom how I let myself become a fan of this demon drivel for four years. Granted, I did manage to break away, but the damage has been done. Right now, I'm feeling like Pearl from Steven Universe.

♪ It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on? ♪

I mentioned this to you before when S1 ended (which I still refuse to watch), but the one thing that Viv did that really detonated the H-bomb inside me was the twist of Vaggie being a former exterminator. I endured a lot of her shit, but somehow this was the final straw for me with Viv. Why? Was it because of its plot-hole laden ridiculousness? Was it because I perceived it as Viv sucking the fandom's dick by implementing fan theories into her show? Was it because it made me foolish that I didn't see this twist coming? I think the answer is all three, though mostly the fandom dick sucking part.

What's sadder is that I've had a similar experience with My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. Hell, it was late 2019 that I officially sent MLP:FIM to the glue factory while checking into the Hazbin Hotel. I guess history really does repeat itself. 😔

I know I've thanked you a lot, Chai, but I still feel the need to thank you for all you do. Frankly, you're the only person I feel comfortable talking to about my issues with Viv, despite the fact that we're likely thousands of miles apart. I'm actually terrified of mentioning anything Hellaverse related to my family or friends. Mainly because they would most likely not understand what I'm talking about, or I might inadvertently turn them into fans. 😬

Wowie-Kazowie, that was a load off of me being hard on myself. It's probably longest ask I ever sent you. Now I shall close this rant with a Metallica reference...

Viv, I dub thee unforgiven. 🖕

Hey, I get it, especially the dreaming part! It's annoying as hell, but you can't just switch off something that meant a lot to you...not when the quality dips or when the creator turns out to be an asshole, not even when it hurts you. The love stays with you forever, like HPV.

That's awesome that you got to see Metallica twice, though! At least the universe threw you that bone to make up for it.

#Anonymous #Metallica Anon #helluva boss critical #vivziepop critical #viv stuff #actual blog post

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httpseungmxn · 2 months ago

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Welcome Home

Idol!Kim Seokjin x Female!Reader

🍰 - suggestive

Authors Note: Welcome back in my lovely Angels! Since it is my birthday, I have decided to finally drop the suggestive Jin fic! After almost four months of pushing it off! I was definitely stuck, I didn’t know at all how I was going to write this but eventually the idea just came to me! This will not be full smut, but it will obviously be very suggestive! I hope you all enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing this! <3

Warnings: Suggestive, chest groping, grinding, mentions of Jin being hard and reader being wet, not a lot of talking happens but its implied what they both want

Triggers: none as far as I am aware

Jin had been home a day now, the first day having been spent just laying with each other and letting Jin finally relax. It was so good to have him home again, back in your arms. Sure you saw him occasionally when he was in, but it wasn't the same.

Finally getting to see him for longer than a couple hours was a wonderful feeling. Being in his arms all night, not having to worry about him safety was a nice change as well. You both hadn't left the bed since after dinner last night.

It was well after 1 in the afternoon, but neither of you wanted to move. You were laid on your side, scrolling on your phone, Jin laid behind you. His body was pressed against yours, arms wrapped tight around your waist as if you were going to leave.

His arms had changed so much since before he entered the Military. They were much stronger and held you tighter than before he was in. You wonder how you hadn't realized this before when he was allowed to visit you. Maybe you were too focused on your time together since it was limited.

You thought Jin was still asleep, willing to let him sleep as long as he wanted. Oh how wrong you were though. The first thing you felt was Jins hips pressing against you. Something you could pass as just wanting to be closer. That was swept from your mind when he began to gently grind against your ass.

Setting your phone aside. A stray whimper threatening to escape your lips. “ Jin, are you awake?. ”. His voice came out deeper than you expected and sent shivers down your body. “ Yes, I'm sorry, its just been so long. ”

His hand sliding up under your shirt slowly had your skin set ablaze. Letting your body relax against his grasp. It had been a long time since you had been touched by him like this. Almost forgetting what his hands had felt like touching you so intimately.

Jins hand slid down to the bottom of your shirt, reaching to pull it off you swiftly while the other hand groped your right tit. Gasping softly as his left hand slid down into your pants.

“ I missed you so much. ”, Jin spoke in your ear as he gently rubbed your clit through your panties. You had already been wet from a dream you had, but Jins touch had since made you much wetter. From what you could feel against your ass, you weren't the only one in the mood though.

Jin was rolling his boner right up against your ass. His index and middle finger continuing to stimulate your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. You had touched yourself countless times while he was gone, and had even used a toy a few times, but nothing ever compared to his touch.

He knew you like the back of his hand. Knew every spot that had you tingling and seeing stars. Every single time Jin made love to you, it felt like the first all over again. There was something so special about your bond with Jin in the bedroom. He was so gentle with you while also giving you what you need most.

You didn't just miss Jins touch. You missed how loving he was. He would shower you with compliments, making sure you knew how much you meant to him. Nobody had ever treated you this way before Jin. Something about him was different from everybody else in this world. Everybody else you had met before.

You were already seeing stars. Jin had barely begun to touch you, and you were already feeling close. You were not going to last long. If today was going to continue like this, it was going to be a very long and eventful day. Not that you seemed to mind at all about that. You wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.

You wouldn't trade Seokjin for anything in the world.

Authors ending note; soooooo, what did we think my Angels? I know it probably wasn’t as long as it should’ve been but I didnt want to repeat basically the same lines, I put in everything I thought fit! You guys got a loooot of suggestiveness in this compared to other fics I have done! Next will probably be another Quackity fic because I’ve had a lot of ideas for fics about him! After that its up to you guys what I write! Please do not forget that my requests are open and you can request whatever you want! Until next time my sweet Angels 🫶

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year ago

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Ghost x City Girl Reader

After your car breaks down on you unexpectedly in the middle of the night, you're left with no choice but to call the only number left available to you... Ghost.

NFSW 18+ Shameless Smut, Porn w/ Plot, P in V sex, Intimate, Steamy Makeout, Build-Up, Banter, Drama, Flirting, Seducing, Dry-Humping, Romance, Hatemance, Enemies to Lovers Trope, Cheating, Toxic Relationship, Light Angst, Characters are Flawed, Ghost and Reader are mean to each other, however things start to change, can be read like a one-shot, but reads better with context

WC: 6.1k~

Author's Note: I finally finished this chapter! Personally, I like how it came out and I like where it's going so far. Since the hatemance has been established, the only way to go is up, right? Please let me know what you think though! And please enjoy~

Masterlist

NGMLTS Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Six

"Come on, come on, come on-"

You step forward towards the edge of the road, making sure not to accidentally step 5 inches deep into another puddle of rain water. There, your eyes catch sight of another pair of car headlights on the fast approach in the distance.

Its florescent glow expands like tiny, white orbs within the black of night, speeding by ever closer each passing second.

Perfect timing.

You stick your thumb out, using your other hand to try and wave down the approaching vehicle.

"Hey!" You call out, as though they can hear you over the sound of their own vehicle. The growing sounds of trees around you blowing in the wind like it were trying to conjure up a tornado hadn't helped either. "Hey, I could use some-"

The car zips by, carrying a gust of wind which insultingly hits you on its departure. You scoff to yourself, watching their red tail-lights slowly disappear down the road, and suddenly you're reminded of the predicament you'd just found yourself in.

That's the fourth car that's driven past you since your car unexpectedly decided to take a shit on you halfway through on your drive home.

Deep down you knew you should have just had your date pick you up from the jump; your car being a piece of shit had been a secret to absolutely no one. Just three weeks ago, the damn thing died on you in the parking lot on your way home from work. However, you've had one too many experiences with being trapped at someone's place without a vehicle to know it's best to be your own ride home.

Or that would normally be the case.

Honestly you wished you'd just Ubered now that you're outside, stranded on some empty road too far from town to walk but just far out enough to be an inconvenient for anyone willing to come get you, in the dead of night at that. But at least it had stopped raining.

Its residue still remains on the dark roads. You knew you had been out far in the boonies just from the lack of streetlights, seeing how pitch black your surroundings had been. It almost felt like a wall of sorts, some sort of abyss, boxing you in. It makes you feel like you're being watched (even though you're absolutely not).

Still, it motivates you to step back into your car, settling into your driver's seat with a frustrated huff.

By now, the remainder of the car's heat had been zapped out, all its interior lights completely dead. Some false sense of hope drives you to try and twist your key in the ignition once more, only to have your dreams retroactively crushed once you see the key completely stuck in its hole, just as it had been for the past forty minutes now.

It brings you to check your messages another time. You'd all but gone through your contact list trying to find someone that could come get you; that tends to happen when it's 1am.

You called your date first, seeing as he would be the closest to you and it hadn't been like you'd left on bad terms.

One month, now that you think about it. You hadn't noticed the time flying by, though it's not to say your time together had been anything remarkable. Just a change to your usual FWB and one-night stand order. He liked taking you out on nice dates and you liked going back to his place to fuck, and seeing he wasn't insufferable, it worked, for now.

However, his ringer had gone straight to voicemail when you called. At first you questioned why that could have been, but then you'd remembered him mentioning his phone being on the verge of death in the midst of the movie you'd been "watching". It crossed him out all the same.

Soap and Price were some of the least reliable men to reach at night, though it had only been because they valued their sleep, and did so like professionals. You weren't surprised in the slightest when they hadn't picked up.

You didn't even bother calling Gaz; the man didn't have a car. And every other one of your friends was either too far away for it to be worth the drive or just unavailable. By the time you'd called the last name listed on your lifeline and it didn't pick up, the hopelessness started to bubble up again.

But then you remembered one other person you could call, someone you're sure wouldn't even bother... if he even picks up.

Ghost.

The phone sits in your hand, purposefully procrastinating, as your eyes toiled on his contact name on your phone. Reluctant.

There's really no way he would pick up; he'd all but made it clear to you that he'd rather do without your being around him as is. What makes you think he'd want to get out of bed in the middle of the night for you?

And yet, your gaze lingered on his number.

Who else was there, if not him?

You slowly dial in his number, nausea swirling in your stomach at each press, until you've heard the phone begun to ring.

You place the cool glass to your face, listening to the other line ring, awaiting to hear that familiar automotive voice message system of his.

However, the air catches in your throat when you've actually heard the other line pick up, sounds of covers shifting and a man's heavy sigh filling in this period of silence that's gone on far too long for you.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?"

You roll your eyes, sinking back into your seat as you settled in for this conversation. Welp, you called him, and here he is. Time to deal with that.

"I had no idea," you say sarcastically.

"Should probably buy a watch then," he teases.

"You offering?"

"No."

You can't help but do anything else other than smack your lips together in response. "I'll just keep doin' me then, boo," you say.

"A shock to no one, I imagine." You hear Ghost groan gruffly on the other end, clearly having been in bed. "So what then? Your date end poorly or somethin'?"

While he had been making a jab at you, his words were more revealing than he realized. Clearly, he'd still been thinking about you, despite wanting to act like you'd been the one bothering him right now.

It makes you giggle under your breath, though you're loud enough for him to hear. "It went great actually," you say. "He really knows how to wine and dine a girl down."

"No doubt letting a man actually treat you like a woman for a change is a new experience for you," Ghost remarks.

"Guess it just took finding the right guy for the job," you remark back. "He's got you on a run for your money, Manchester."

The right guy, meaning anyone but Ghost, he'd imagined. Not in any tangible way beyond whatever lust-filled mistakes you two continuously shared between each other.

Ghost pauses for a moment. You know your comment had gotten to him somewhat. Though he spares little time for you to rejoice in it.

"He can have it," he says coldly. "We're done, remember?"

You're not sure why, but hearing him say that to you yet again -- with not a heartbeat to spare, it only seemed to make your own heart run a bit colder.

Ghost only continues, his patience having run thin since talking. "Why are you calling?"

You hesitate to speak at first, your pride already having been bruised just having to call him to begin with. You sigh lightly to yourself, regaining your composure and cutting right to the chase. After all, what reason was there to be nervous? This was only Manchester.

"I need your help," you say plainly. "My car broke down and I'm in the middle of nowhere. I tried calling literally anyone else... but you're the only one who's actually answered. So... look, if you don't want to, just tell me now so I can call someone else, alright?"

Silence.

You have to look down at your phone to see if the man had hung up on you suddenly; it wouldn't have surprised you. But no, he'd still been on the other line, merely existing with his tightly shut lips.

After some more seconds have gone by, you've found the silence has driven you mad.

"Look, just forget-"

"Where are you now?"

That's not what you were expecting to hear. His words stop you dead in your tracks, your heart beginning to race once you finally had a plan in motion.

You sit up in your seat, already typing in Ghost's address into your Google Maps so you could get a good estimate of how long you'd be waiting. You wanted to cry when you saw the double digits, and nearly did when you read that 27 minute drive time.

You hum to yourself, trying not to sound too disappointed as you spoke.

"Well..." You sigh. "...It's not close."

"How far are we talking?"

What is he doing right now? He's been asking himself that questions since he tied the laces to his boots and slipped into his hoodie on the way out the door. He must look like a fool right now, he's sure.

Seven miles out had been how far you were from his place. Evidently, by the 4th mile out, Ghost had started to grow somewhat ticked off (seeing as it was now almost 2 am), but alas, he'd already been in his car and this far out, so there was no point in complaining about it now. Though he still couldn't believe he was doing it.

The night air feels good rushing through his open window. The icy wind scraps by him, leaving his pale cheeks a rosier pink, his short blond hair thrown about, and his knuckles a cold white, with the speeding swishing sounds of his car rushing down this long, empty road.

Ghost brought his balaclava with him (he had an extra one tucked away in his glove box), knowing he'll have to put it on once he's picked you up. Until then, however, he'd enjoy the freeing sensation of the wind against his skin, as it's the only thing reminding him that he is in fact driving to come get you right now and not just dreaming this.

He knew the smart thing would have been to say no. Ghost didn't trust himself almost as much as he didn't trust you not to try and escalate something out of this situation. That's how things always happen between you two after all. And yet... here he is on the road now. He'd ask himself what that was about, but he knew himself well enough.

Your car starts to come into view of his headlights on the side of the road, as Ghost has felt walls in him begin to form themselves, preparing for your presence.

He pulls his car behind you, quickly digging in his glove box and retrieving his balaclava before exiting the vehicle. It may be dark, but even then, he wasn't about to let you see him exposed so soon. Not like this, anyhow.

"There you are!" You step out of the car, dramatically swinging your arms out before slamming your door shut behind you. "You take the scenic route?"

"And I got gas," he adds.

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as a cool breeze brisks by. "Of course you did."

Ghost looks you up and down unabashedly, seeing the attire you'd chosen to wear for your date tonight -- some outfit that wasn't too skimpy, but still left a lot for a man to crave more for. He can only imagine how much your date must have enjoyed himself with you tonight... it's started to make his chest tight just thinking about it.

"I didn't want to call you," you say all of a sudden. However, when you've seen the look he gives you after hearing that, it makes you soften up somewhat. It had sounded rather harsh out loud, didn't it? So you then sigh, "I wasn't sure you were gonna answer..."

Ghost sighs, the man simmering down now having seen you become more lax. Though he doesn't say anything. He wasn't quite sure what to say, because he would have answered if you called him. He did. Yet, admitting so out loud would make that something more real than what he was willing to admit. So he stays quiet.

You do your best to bring things back to ground level between you two. However, whether it be because you'd meant to do so, or just did not care for the weight of your words, you go on with your small tangent.

"I called Soap first," you say. "Then I tried Price after that."

"Ah," Ghost says dryly. "I'm well aware that I'm the afterthought."

"Maybe so, but... I called you still, didn't I?"

"And I still came," Ghost says.

You've paused for a moment, and your voice is softer than any tone he's heard from you before. It puts him on edge and makes his heart feel caught in his throat.

"Yeah, well..." You say. "Thank you."

Funny. He's never actually heard you say thank you to him before, and it's got him more giddy than he thought he would be.

"Don't worry about it." He approaches your vehicle now, taking a closer look. "So what's wrong with it?"

"I don't fucking know," you sigh frustratedly. "I've already taken the damn thing in for repairs three fucking times already and it still keeps doing this. I'm just sick of this fucking thing at this point-"

You kick your tire out of frustration, only to have the tips of your toes connect roughly with stiff, cold, rubber, your foot doing nothing to even make a bulge to it on impact. Immediately you yelp, though you tone it down, so as not to embarrass yourself in front of the lieutenant. No doubt he was in need of some more material to use against you at work later.

Of course, he can see that you're frustrated by the situation, and rightfully so, he thought. He never liked having car problems himself.

"Need me to jump it then?" he asks.

"You can try."

And try he does. The man's come prepared, having cables already packed away in his trunk for situations like this, having been here before. You step to the side and let him contend with things, assisting wherever needed, and sharing no other words beyond trying to fix the situation.

Once the cables were all attached to the batteries and his car was running, it didn't take long for the silence between you two to become defeaning.

You both stood leaning against your cars, staring off into the surrounding woods. Lost in separate thoughts that somehow always led you back to one another.

You kept looking over at him, taking quick glances with your peripherals. He kept his gaze ahead, not having wanted to look at you too much. Each time he did, he felt something stir in him that he hadn't wanted.

But for the first time in maybe ever between you two, it's Ghost who breaks silence before you.

"Have you thought about Friday?"

Naturally, it would be about work.

The word Friday brings a reaction out of you, reminding you of things you didn't yet wish to think about. This Friday. The day you and Ghost will be sent out on a month-long assignment together. Alone...

It wasn't like you two haven't fought together before; often times the others thought you made a great duo, in fact. Combatively, that is. If it wasn't his swift and collected movements on the battlefield, then it was your own cunning creativity which often gave the team the edge they needed.

As a whole team, it was easy to work with him -- you couldn't bicker if there were a million different things to pull your attention. But you wouldn't be with the team this time. It would just be the two of you now, a feet which had NEVER been done before.

You sigh again, hugging your arms to yourself to keep warmth.

"Don't really want to think about it, if I'm being honest."

"Will you be ready?" He asks.

"I'm always ready, Manchester," you jest. "What about you? Are you ready to be stuck with me for a month?"

Dryly, Ghost says, "I'm jumpin' for joy just thinkin' about it."

You chuckle at his comment, which surprises him, for some reason. Normally, your low giggles felt weighted with teasing mockery. However, the lilt to your voice now had been something more... welcoming.

And seemingly, you've noticed it's made Ghost somewhat more chatty than usual, given his silence earlier.

"So your date..." he unintentionally lets his words begin to drag. "You said it went well earlier?" He now asks, no longer caring how the question might come off to you. A simple answer would only suffice.

However, he already knows he can't ask questions like that without bringing the she-devil out in you.

"Mmm," you hum. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Ghost groans. "Forget it."

You're silent for a moment, and it makes Ghost think the end of that conversation. Though, you spend the time thinking, weighing between talking or silence.

"My date went fine," you say to him. "We didn't really do much. Nothing worth talking about anyway."

Ghost crosses his arms now, looking down at his feet rather bashfully, kicking a small pebble that had been rested at his boot.

"So do you like him?"

"He's alright," you say. "He's real sweet. Super understanding; I've never met such an open-minded guy before. Except for Soap maybe..."

You unknowingly begin to go on about this mystery man from before, describing him in delightful detail, all of which seemed to contrast with Ghost.

"I've never had a guy do that for me before." You said more than once, and Ghost was sure it had been true. After all, he hasn't necessarily been kind to you to begin with. Hearing now the differences it would have made only made him wonder of the what if's.

By the end of your small tangent, he'd felt your point had been made clear enough. But then you end everything you've just gone on about -- the compliments, the ups, and highs -- with a final comment.

"...Though... I don't see this lasting long."

He can't deny, that had actually excited him to hear, even as it doesn't make sense to him. Though he covers it under his usual, husky voice he wielded so dangerously. "Why's that?"

You look like you want to tell him the truth. You almost do, but it hadn't been a matter of pettiness as to why you don't quite answer the man. You instead shrug, keeping this nonchalant attitude you desperately wanted him to see you for.

"I don't know," you say. "He's kinda boring."

Ghost chuckles. "Boring?"

"He's just a bit too... simple for me? It's hard to explain."

"Not toxic enough for you, you mean?"

You laugh under your breath, having found some humor in his jab. "Maybe," you admit, sarcastically so. "Maybe I need a little screaming and petty arguments in my life. It just makes everything feel so much more... passionate."

Ghost just shakes his head. "You say that now."

You begin to smirk. "I don't know," you turn to look at him. "You must like that stuff too, Manchester."

"I don't," he says.

"Bullshit," you laugh. "Admit it, you eat this toxic shit up."

"You're wrong," he says. "I loathe it. It's unbecoming."

"If that's how you feel, then what were you doing fucking around with me then?"

It's a valid question, one that makes the man grow silent. What had it been about you that often turned him from his better judgment? It couldn't have just been the sex. No. Otherwise, it wouldn't burden him so much to know you thought of other men so much more highly than him, half of which being of his own doing.

Unsure of how to answer you, the man simply says to you, "I don't know."

The silence comes quickly, but it is felt by you both. Had another car not driven by to break this sudden trance, perhaps this conversation would have gone further. You both wondered as such, even as you wouldn't say so out loud. But it's the longest you've spoken without insulting each other. That significance would not be lost.

Eventually, your car managed to turn on, its dim lights twitching back to life amidst the night. Having not wanted to be put in a situation where he'd have to turn around, Ghost volunteered to follow you back home in his car. That way, if you broke down on the road again he could at least drive you back home himself.

You had been more than grateful enough to thank him again once your car had been running, smiling in ways you've not done toward him before in the past. In those moments, it had been easy to forget about all of that, having felt himself smile back beneath his mask, from time to time.

The drive back to your place is a short one, the roads having been empty, given how late it was. Ghost follows you to your driveway, watching you park at a small, one-story home you'd recently gotten on post. He remembers his way here without your guidance, having come here on his own so many times now. He'd even picked out a spot in your driveway he liked to pull into -- that same spot beneath the tall tree in your front yard.

Now that you were home, Ghost remained in his car, prepared to see you wave him goodbye before pulling out. However, you do no such thing, instead exiting your vehicle, and approaching his window.

He rolls it down, giving you a curious look. "Something the matter?"

"Wanna come in for a quick smoke?"

No, he thought. He should say no. He already told you he was putting an end here to this. An end to this toxic game of back-and-forth romance. What kind of man would he be if he could not keep his word with something as simple as this?

He would only be a man, and a human one at that.

Ghost has already stepped out of his car and followed you over to the entrance of your home. And just as he expected -- as he had feared and wanted -- once inside, having heard the front door shut behind him and the faint sensation of your body brush by towards your living room, he knew this wouldn't just be a quick smoke.

It started out with the two of you on your couch. The minute he sat down he felt the late hours start to hit him like a tidal wave, his eyes having grown droopy and tired. You looked the same, your movements having slowed since arriving home. Though it hadn't made you any less chatty.

In between grabbing a lighter and a pack of smokes for you two (a transaction that took you five minutes to do), you both gossiped about work. Ghost always knew you were a scandalous sort, however, it had shocked you seeing how willing the lieutenant had been to participate in the conversation. He had a lot more to say than you would have thought, in fact.

Once the cigarettes were lit, things only grew more random, Ghost feeling the urge to ask you the oddest hypotheticals he could think of off the top of his head. He had been serious when asking too, judging your answers, and providing his own afterward.

And while you two couldn't put it into words, at the moment, this had felt good to have.

You sink back into the couch, having finished your cigarette, and felt that final headrush. You enjoy it. You enjoy this.

You look to the left of you to see Ghost, his large body having sunken the couch down so much that your legs couldn't help but rest against his boulderous thighs. His mask is lifted, and his scarred lips finish off his cigarette. He blows the smoke out in front of him, as his eyes stay forward. And all the while, his body has felt every bit of your presence near him.

"Why don't we ever do this?" you ask suddenly.

Ghost looks your way, finding your eyes. "Do what?" He asks, his voice a low and raspy thing, vibrating through your whole body.

"This," you gesture around you. "Actually sit down and talk like this."

"You're not usually the best company," he says.

You pout. "Have you been around "you" before, Manchester?"

"I know the bloke pretty well, actually," Ghost jokes.

You scoff, a smile curving on your lips. "Then you know that he's an asshole a lot of the time."

"I do know that," he admits.

His honesty catches you off guard. You had been prepared to say something witty back too. Now it wouldn't work quite as well, his response spinning your mind in a curious way.

Ghost speaks before you, having been digesting this conversation in full himself. "To answer your question," he says. "I saw no point in trying to talk to you like this. You didn't like me. That much had been made clear, so I didn't bother. "

"So... you didn't wanna talk to me or be my friend," you say. "Yet you'll fuck me. That checks out."

Now you catch him off guard with that comment, watching his jaw tighten. It does so even more when he sees the little laugh you let out in response after.

"I'd doubt we'd make good friends anyway," you sigh.

"What makes you say that?" Ghost asks.

"It just wouldn't work," you say, and then start to grin. "We'd just keep wanting to fuck each other, I feel like. That or kill each other, whatever comes first."

"Wha', you can't fuck your friends?" Ghost jokes, feeling parts of himself bubble joyously when he sees you laugh.

"Not if you want to stay friends."

And there it was that Ghost almost felt the words leave his lips, the question and the answer. Who said you two had to stay as friends? Who says this has to stay as anything?

"Well..." he thinks to himself, looking down at his lap, as he lets his callous thumbs rub softly over his rough palms. He's now noticed your legs resting against his thigh, and how close you've been this entire time, your body heat having felt as cozy as a blanket to sit beside. "We haven't fucked tonight."

You smirk. "We haven't been at each other's throats all night, either," you lightly cheer. "A new record."

"This make us friends then?"

Ghost notices your leg shift, as you invite them to rest on his lap, his arms having nowhere else to lie but on top of them. Having them hugged so close to him, feeling your calves shift over his crotch (purposefully he's sure), quickly started to fog his mind of any previous thoughts he now had.

You watch his gaze follow your legs, traveling up slowly, making their way up your torso, past your chest and to your neck, then stopping on your lips, which you've licked into a playful smile. His dark eyes finally find yours, and he sees that familiar look in them. The look of trouble.

"I can't be your friend, Manchester."

"Why?" he asks again, his voice low, humming through you and making your body ache for him.

"I already told you why," you say cooly. "I want to fuck you too much to be your friend, Simon."

"Well, I already told you we can't."

"Then what's your hand doing?"

Indeed, this whole time you've let his voice soothe you, words be damned, you've felt his large hands slowly slide their way up your thigh, fingers grazing you roughly, craving to feel the flesh of you beneath your clothes.

His hand pauses at the brink of your hip, his body having leaned in more since doing so. It's pressed you more against the couch, your body slowly being caged by him.

Despite his actions, his eyes look at you with frustration, a million thoughts running through him. You were driving him mad, and he couldn't get enough of it.

You merely watch his eyes drop back down to your lips, and you smile. You lift your hand up, bringing it to his collar and letting your finger hook beneath the fabric. Your smile widens as you've felt his throat swallow against the gentle graze of your finger, his mask still having been lifted up to his nose, and his breath tickling your skin. You slowly pull him closer.

He doesn't even resist, his body moving along to your guiding hand, until his face had only been an inch or so from you, his eyes half-lidded and lost.

Despite the confidence you let off, your heart raced furiously in your chest. This hadn't felt anything like your times before, where the banter had been short, seeing as the real reasons for it were often carried out in swift succession. This had felt slow. Intimate. You had his mouth so close to you, and it kept buzzing in your mind, the whole thing that had him not wanting to do this from the start. The reason for this reluctancy. Some jealousy and measly lipstick.

"Kiss me," you say.

You swear you can hear his heart beating through his chest, watching the gears shift in his head and feeling the bulge in his pants start to brush against your leg. Rather than let him come to his own conclusion, you do the thinking for him, pulling him down by the collar and guiding his mouth to yours.

The second your lips touch his, it's as though no other actions mattered to him beyond having all of you right here and now.

Ghost kisses you roughly, letting his hands cup over your face and his body completely cover you, arms caging you in like a prison. The weight of his body takes your breath away, making you gasp into his mouth, as you've felt him grind himself against you. By now, his cock was already resting painfully so in his jeans, and you've felt him take that pain out with each gruff thrust he made against you. The second your lips have parted, his tongue has entered in, massaging itself against yours as though to have the complete taste of you with him.

As his lips did their absolute best lapping away at your mouth, the lower half of himself humped between your legs furiously, parting them at every motion and leaving you throbbing from each brief departure. You can't help but do anything other than hug your arms over him, hugging him close and letting your lips keep pace with him.

His body feels every bit of your hands run against his chest, hooking around his neck and lacing beneath his mask to feel his hair. Your legs hook around his waist naturally, hips jirating against his just as ravenously, as though you'd been craving him all day. The smallest of movements you make send him deeper into a passionate frenzy, turning the man near primal.

You wanted every bit of him right now just as much as he had wanted every part of you -- it had the man completely drunk in you. Large hands cupped so firmly over your cheeks as he kissed you that you felt consumed by him, neither of you having spared a breath away. His hands slide down your neck, making their way to your breast and aggressively groping them, reminding himself of the parts of you that you allowed him to misbehave himself with. The parts of yourself that would always be his.

He thumbs your nipples through your shirt, letting his fingers roll against them, and feeling your chest rise with each moan that it conjures. Your lips part again, your voice like ecstasy to him. He'd stay like this forever if he could. That's truly how he felt at this moment.

After a while, he couldn't keep himself from slipping his hand beneath your shirt, finally feeling the warmth of your body against his skin, before retaking your breast in your hand to continue his work.

By now you've kissed each other raw, your dry-humping having grown vigorous and hot in nature; the room filled with your heavy panting and his low grunts. Ghost's hips viciously pulsate against you, the bulge of his cock bumping in just the right amount of friction against your clit to the point that you hadn't even needed to feel him inside you to feel yourself soaking through your pants. Having felt it only made him press harder against you, as the man made an equal mess of himself.

It had felt difficult casting you aside with you so ready to have him every time you've graced his presence. Ghost knows he was making a mistake, letting you play with his emotions, but good God did you make him feel good when you wanted him to. You drip-feed him that lustful attention you give away so carelessly, and Ghost took each drop with begrudging starvation.

Your hands continue to curve behind his neck, your fingers teetering at the edges of his masks and keeping him pulled in. They touch the most sensitive parts of the skin behind his ears, parts of him that haven't been touched by anyone in years. Your fingers continue to slowly glide their way up, gently pushing his mask up more and more.

Almost as though to distract you from continuing with that action, his hands shoot down to your pants, as he's no longer able to hold himself back from you. He pries them from you, throwing both that and your panties to the floor, before lowering his own jeans down.

His massive length rested against your pussy heavy, almost like a veiny leg of its own, the man rubbing and smacking himself against you to his heart's content, groaning gruffly to himself each time. He grabs onto your legs, hooking them over your arms and letting your feet rest over his shoulders, as he pushes your knees back to your ears, preparing your body for a vicious pounding.

With no hesitation, once he's settled his body over you, he drives his cock in, his girth stretching you uncomfortably as he pushes himself so deep that he's felt his balls smack against you. The second he's felt you clench around him, your legs tightening over his body, and your lips parting with a sharp hiccup-like gasp, he lets himself go into his favorite mind-numbing pace with you.

Ghost fucks you into the couch, his cock smacking in and out of you with barely a second reprieve. Each time you've felt he might slow down, he only goes faster, making sure to hear the visceral sounds which left your cunt at each thrust, squeezing an orgasm from you that he's felt shake your entire body against him.

Yet feeling your orgasm hadn't been enough, it would never be enough. He kept the pace going even after, wanting to feel every breath that left you be wrapped in him, and every thump of your heart against his chest be because of him.

Through the sheer mayhem, he put both your body and mind in right now, you bring your hands back up to his face, returning his gaze to you. With your eyes locked, you can make out every detail, every feeling you each had harbored, both the good and the bad. He would have all of you, and you would have all of him.

"I don't want this to stop, Simon," you pant out.

Ghost finds himself at a loss for words, having replied to you in his head, and carried it out through action instead. He brings his lips down to you, kissing you once again, and making sure that you could feel every part of his reply through the taste of him.

His arms hug across you tightly, the quick and brutal rhythm he had growing erratic and desperate. He groans against your lips as he's cum in you, feeling himself pulsate against the deepest parts of you.

Ghost doesn't move from on top of you, having buried his face in the crook of your neck and wrapped his arms over you. You lie beneath him, your own arms wrapped lazily over him, hugging him against you like a weighted blanket, simply holding his heaving body to your own. You rest your cheek against the crown of his head, your eyes looking up to your ceiling as you've both now felt the dreariness of the night finally hit you.

You both pant, out of breath, now left with the uncertainty of what would be tomorrow. For once, you don't say anything to break the silence. You just let him lay there, and you do too. It would be morning soon enough.

Read Part Six Here!

My goal here is to start turning a toxic relationship into a maybe not so toxic relationship. It's gotta start somewhere. I just want to write about flawed individuals (it's nice feeling seen lol). But, I hope the dialogue worked, I really liked it. But anywho, that's it with my rambling.

@deadbranch @homicidal-slvt @argella1300 @poohkie90 @sarraa-26 @quincessimus @cabreezer0117 @glitterypirateduck @0-444-4444 @crazymela @13thprogenitor

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged/untagged for the next part! If I'm not told, I won't tag because I feel like an instigator! Thank you, uwu

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #call of duty #modern warfare ii #call of duty modern warfare ii #mwii #mw2022 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #no good men left to spare #ghost mwii #ghost mw2 #Spotify

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raccoonfallsharder · 5 months ago

Text

an excerpt from Part Three Candied Apples. 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑

thievery in the garden.❤︎❤︎ ⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall masterlist | main masterlist

finally finished drafting the third (and final) part of ⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall 𖤣𖥧𖡼⚘.˚⭑ (a meetgroot), currently clocking in at 37 pages and 17,251 words of teasing, smut, and sentimental nonsense. is any of it good? who knows? but i should be done editing it and have it posted sometime next month (you can check the monthly forecast on july 1 and i should have a semi-concrete posting date by then). in the meantime, to whet your appetite...

fluff ✮ | spice ✩ | some smut ❤︎‬ | much smut ❤︎‬❤︎‬

“All right, sweetheart,” he croons, his mouth still just a breath from your jaw, from the soft needy flesh of your throat. You feel yourself sway toward him, but he shifts at the same time you do: pulling back, keeping himself just a whisper out of your reach. “Go on. Tell me what you’ve been thinking about, so I know what you like when I put my hands all over you.”

“I — I think about a lot of different things,” you manage to choke out. Your eyes flicker: catching him in your periphery, then casting back out over the city and the sparkling of its lights. You can see your rooftop community garden from here, and the ropes of plasma orbs draped like glittering diamond necklaces over the rows of growing things. You concentrate on it. Your breath feels shallow and thin, lungs straining with the weight of your need. “Sometimes I — sometimes I think about you being rough with me.” Maybe you shouldn’t say that. Maybe you should ask for gentle, for light touches and sweet words, for something romantic and soft. You do like romantic and soft, sometimes. But right now you’re so desperate — for touch, for his touch — right now you’re so greedy and needy and wanting — that any softer fantasies turn instead into bruising hands and welts left by claws, and thrusts so hard that your teeth click together in your dreams.

Admitting it aloud, though? You’re not sure you’ve ever been so humiliated in your life. Your eyes flutter closed in a wince, and your thighs clench under your ruffled skirt.

“Oh, yeah?” The drawl of his voice is low and entertained. He tsks. “Just like I thought — gettin’ yourself into trouble here, and too shy to do anything about it. You’re gonna have to be more specifical than that, princess.”

You bite your lip and hazard a sideways glance at him. “What — how—”

“What’s it like when you think about me—” His voice drops, turning predatory. “—being all rough with you?”

“I — I don’t know.” Your breath feels even more tattered and frayed. “You seem — strong. I think you could maybe — throw me around if you wanted to?” God. You press your fingertips back into your cheeks, giving up the charade of pretending to being anything but mortified. “I guess — I’m not really sure how that would work since I’m so much bigger than you?”

He tilts his face in closer to you — a whisper of his fur against the back of your fingers. “Oh, I think I can figure it out.” Each word is bitten around a sharp-toothed smile. “So tell me more, shy girl. In these damp little daydreams of yours, do I got you on all fours?”

You hiccuping a gasp, knees suddenly wobbling at the image that flashes to the forefront of your mind. “Uhm, sometimes,” you whisper. “Other times, uhm — on my back? With, uhm, my knees folded up against my chest?”

He makes a sound in your ear — a sort of low, rumbling clicking noise. The edges of his fur vibrate against you. “Uh-huh. That sounds nice to me, angel. A real nice little thing you’re just aching to give me.”

You swallow.

“Anything else, when I take you rough?” It’s a purr, you realize — a true purr. You hadn’t known a purr could sound so dangerous. “You like getting your ass slapped, angel?” The endearment sounds like a taunt, now.

You lick your lips. “I — I’ve never tried it before, but…” You trail off, everything in you furling so tight you can’t get the words out.

“But you think about it,” he finishes with a grin — so smug, so self-satisfied and sharp that you can feel it cramping your abdomen. Your eyes are wide on him when you nod, before they swerve away — trying to retain some last scrap of self-preservation.

Still, you can hear him chuckle — can feel it, teasing against the skin that’s crying out for him.

“You open to us trying a little bit of that, then?” he rumbles against you, tilting his head and dipping his nose deeper into the space between your neck and your shoulder — like he wants to nuzzle in, but won’t. He’s taunting you — maybe taunting himself too — and he’s close enough that you can pick up on the scent of him: something like juniper, and something like blackberries. Leather — probably from his uniform — and something sharp and smoky. You breathe it in greedily — take it into your lungs like you’d plant a garden of it if you could.

“M’not interested in smacking your face around,” the Captain adds, “but I’d slap just about any other part of you if you let me.” He pulls back, and from the corner of your eye, you can see his tongue run over his teeth — like he’s imagining tasting the warmth of your skin after it’s been struck a few times. “I’d frickin’ love to see you bounce, sweetheart.”

Your breath stutters out of your lungs in a shaky stumble that you try to crush back. Your fingers clutch rigidly at the edge of the wall. “I’d be okay with that,” you manage to squeak out, trying to reign in the thump of your heart on your breastbone.

His hand snaps out, black skin on black shadows, and he grips the line of your chin and turns your face abruptly toward him. It’s sudden, and maybe a little scary — your heart and belly both tumble inside you and you choke on a gasp — but it’s also the first time he’s really touched you beyond his knuckles teasing under your sundress-strap, and the featherlight bracelet of his fingers on your wrist. You immediately melt into his grasp. Everything inside you leans into him, until you dazedly think that he’s holding you up, just by his fingertips kissing your face. He startles at the way you sink into his demanding grasp — then lets another pitying smirk curl the corner of his mouth.

“Needy little Terran pet,” he muses, stroking his thumb just once, back and forth along your jaw. You struggle to hold back the little whimper wisping up over your ribs, and you think at first that you’re successful — but he must see your throat working, because he laughs again: softly, this time, but meanly.

“Gotta say though, angel, I’m not interested in what you’re okay with.”

For the first time, his voice drops from a quiet, mocking sort of laughter and into something closer to a growl. It sounds dangerous, but your body doesn’t seem to realize that — or maybe it doesn’t care. Your skin prickles deliciously: every muscle straining for him, every cell lighting up and begging.

“M’only interested in what’s gonna make you wet. And what’s gonna make you whine for more.”

Your mouth pools with saliva and you have to swallow. “W-what about you?” you whisper, and your voice is as shivery as new leaves in a manufactured Knowhere breeze, trembling on the play of shadow and soft glow, filtering over the rooftops and glimmering between the branches of Groot’s trees. “What did — what do you think about? What do you like?”

The threat in his voice drops away, but you’d be a fool to think for a moment that he isn’t still a predator in his own right. The smirk grows wider: unrepentant and leering.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he purrs. “I like to run my frickin’ mouth.”

wind·fall /ˈwin(d)ˌfôl/ noun. an apple or other fruit blown down from a tree or bush by the wind; an unexpected piece of good fortune.

semi-shy touch-deprived reader tries to avoid meeting knowhere’s intimidating captain. is profoundly unsuccessful.

based on a prompt by @creativepromptsforwriting: The apartment she moved to has a beautiful, well-tended garden. After a while she finds out that her neighbor is the one tending to the plants and she decides to help him out one day.

⭑˚.⚘𖡼𖥧𖤣 windfall masterlist | main masterlist new! flower dividers & banners by @/saradika-graphics

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