#it's like every so often the mask slips and i see something horrible underneath | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

plush-rabbit · 4 years ago

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Smile For Me

Warnings: Noncon, Somnophila

Word Count: 2.8K

A/N: I’ve really fallen for Ghostface and that seems unfair (Part 2 to Picture Perfect)

You’re easy prey. Nothing more than a simple deer, a lovely little rabbit that he gets to stalk and hunt. There’s something odd about you, something so sweet and incredibly cute that he wants to corrupt. You change your locks, you add a sensor light that must have made a pretty dent in your wallet. He can see how you move behind the blinds, your silhouette, the way you walk and how you hold something in your hands, and he runs the first few times, but after the third time, he decides to push his luck, linger close, hidden behind a shed in your backyard and minutes pass until he realizes that there are no sirens. You don’t call for help, your alarms are nothing more than for decoration, to ward off a lesser person. You trust that whatever was lurking outside, has fled. And he falls for you naivety more. He falls deeper in love with you, covering his mouth with a gloved hand, the faint bitter taste of copper still lingering as he bites down to avoid his laughter ringing throughout your backyard.

Ghostface stalks you. He watches and learns what security system you have and it’s almost laughable when he finds out that it is nothing. All you have to protect yourself are different locks. The lights were nothing more than that, sensor lights that can do nothing more than to catch a rodent that lurks in your backyard. The locks might be different, but you don’t have an alarm, there are no cameras inside your home to record that he wandered around- drank from the bottle of your cranberry juice, sat on your couch and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, dried mud that crumbled and he stared at it, wondering if you would even notice, but with a swipe of the side of his palm, it falls and disappears into your carpet. You have no camera to watch as he grabs your underwear and jerks himself off in your bed, his mouth open behind his mask as he creams himself on your belongings, the memory of how you felt already fading in his mind. And once he’s done, he‘s left sticky and wet, creamy slipping down and it’s only a matter of time till you come home. He wonders how often you wash your pillowcases and he dries himself on your pillow, a soft thrusting motion that leaves his already sensitive cock dribbling with more seed, spreading it on your pillow. When he comes back to watch you, he sees through the blinds how you touch the pillow, your lips pouted and your fingers brushing against the hardened cotton. He wonders if you know.

You’ve captured his attention- enough for him to leave his other prey and focus solely on you. You fret around your home, clean and check every crevice, a pair of scissors in hand and he scoffs in amusement. He palms himself through his jeans. He wonders how you would really react if he were hiding inside your house. He can hide himself in your closest, jump out and wrestle you to the ground, watch as your eyes grow fearful and he’s salivating at the thought of entering you already, knowing how well you’d take him. With a soft sigh, he pulls his hand away. All he has to do now is wait for you to fall asleep.

Grateful for the night, he watches in silence. You walk around in your room, towel around your body, letting it fall off of your body and rest against the bed, your naked body alluring, the soft yellow light glistening off of your body, and you walk to your dresser, lotion against your body, spread thin, the creamy white disappearing onto your body. You sleep in a camisole, a lace trim around the straps, stitched onto the soft dip where your naked breasts lie, nipples already pert and peeking through the shirt. Your underwear are a soft blue, raising up your hips with a teasing dip to your sex. He doesn’t have to wait long until you’ve fallen into your slumber, body still and after a few minutes, he’s inside your home.

It doesn’t take much to break-in. A simple twist and a careful step, and Ghostface is undetected, inside your home. The weeping mask stares down at you, a single twist of his fingers and your lamp is on, the glow of the light doing nothing but make you furrow your brows and with a simple shush, a coo under his breath that makes him feel like a dotting lover, you return to your relaxed state. It’s not much, but seeing you asleep- vulnerable and willing- is enough for him to kick off his boots. Clothes are slowly discarded, the pale, horrific mask still kept on, the soft cloth of the hood tickles at the base of his neck, and he’s above you.

There isn’t much that makes him actually lust for others. He’s always been more fascinated in other areas of the human body, but there was and still is something about you that makes him yearn, to grab at you and mark your body. And one day, he’ll do it with your consent. He’ll come and greet you as Daniel- have you call him Danny- pull out the smile, pull you close and throw you on his bed, have you want him and there will be the sick pleasure of knowing that you’re fucking a killer and your personal tormentor without you knowing. But for now, he slips off your clothes, raises your thin shirt and he’s slow and methodical, pulling you into a sitting position and having you lean against his body, your gentle, warm breaths against his chest, your shirt is removed. He lays you back on the bed, hair fanning out into a halo, strands falling in front of your face and with a simple brush, the smooth fabric of his gloves cold against your skin. Your underwear is too delightful to tear off, simple and pure against your skin, something so sweet that it’s almost wrong of him to dip his fingers underneath and pull down your bare legs.

Asleep and undisturbed, his hands are on you. For a brief moment, his mask is off, eyes that hold something fierce in them watch you, the low rise of your chest, goosebumps pricking at your skin and his smile is hungry. His face buried into your sex, tongue at your heat, his spit warming you and moistening past your folds. The tip of his tongue swirls around your entrance, a gentle dip into you, and in your sleep you clench your walls, a soft squish against his muscle and he smiles against you, wide and teeth pressed against your soft flesh. He presses his face forward, nose pressed against your clit, lips puckered and he kisses you, a soft, sensual kiss against your cunt, tongue slipping past his lips, and into yours, flickering inside and on the tip of his tongue, he can taste your sweet nectar, oozing in a thick puddle against him.

The mask returns, hiding his identity and in it’s in place, the gloves are removed. There’s a sound outside, a racing car that screams through the night and in his chest, his heart races and his body flushes, his face heating up, sweat beading on his forehead and two bare fingers enter you. You’re slick enough to enter but he can feel the tight grasp of your sex, something that he’s sure stings by the way you shift under him. His fingers curl in, a beckoning motion inside of you, fingertips brushing against your walls, slick slowly starting to form until the clicking noises in the room intermix with your breathy, soft moans- a cry that whimpers past your lips. He grows hard above you, watching your breaths deepen, the wet, shucking noises of your cunt grow louder, fingers slipping in and out, your arousal dribbling past his fingers and down to his knuckles. It’s awkward, fingers pushed deep inside of you, his knuckles kissing at your cunt as a strong hand reaches to grab his camera, holding tight onto it, his fingerprints dirtying the screen and it’s shaky, a horrible picture when compared to his previous works. He forces himself to still, fingers half way inside of you, limp and still compared to your throbbing, wet cunt that still leaks and there’s a click. On the screen is a captivating photo of your cunt teased with his fingers. And as always, Ghostface isn’t satisfied.

Metal clicks against each other, a soft chime in the room that acts as a lullaby, pulling you back into sleep, your body relaxing, breath going back to its own undisturbed tempo and all that remains is a wide-eyed man staring at you through a mask. Dark eyes are unwavering as they stare at your sleeping body- you look so peaceful, so rested and deep in slumber that he’s sure you must have had a heavy day and he feels almost sad at that thought. Bare hands grab at your breasts, thumbs pushing around the pert nipples- he’s almost sad that you had to grow through something so heavy without him- his hands lower to rise against the swell of your belly- he promises to himself that you won’t face it alone next time- one hand holds onto your hip, the other against the base of his cock, pre-ejaculate beading off his slit in opalescent pearls.

He lowers himself to you, the plastic of his mask brushing against the shell of your ear and he’s hopeful that you’re listening to him. “No one is allowed to touch you, you know? I’ll make sure of that.” His cockhead is pressed flushed against your entrance, arousal mixing and getting lost with each other. Nails dig into your hip, perfectly formed crescents appear on your body, the hint of blood is familiar to him and makes him almost inhumane. His laugh is sharp, unforgiving and cruel, as he presses himself further into you, the welcoming hug of your walls wrapping tight around him and he releases his hands from your hip and himself. “My fucking muse,” he whispers harshly, stilling himself inside of you, your walls pulsing against him, a gentle pull deeper into you. “My naïve-” his hand covers the swell of your belly- “dumb little muse.” He wonders if you’re late. He wonders what you have done to either rid yourself of his kin or to prevent yourself from being bred. “I wonder what it’ll be like-” his thumb arches gracefully over your stomach- “seeing you with a child, tits full of milk, cunt always creamy, ready for a good pounding.” He laughs lowly, hooking an arm underneath you, hand spread against your spine, arching and he’s deep inside of you, feeling you tighten against him.

The masked killer is grateful that he’s forgotten how you feel. You’re limp, nothing more than a warm sex-toy for him, curved and heavy underneath his hand, neck bent and mouth parted, and he smiles when he sees your eyes begin to flutter. That’s what he wants. He wants to see your fear. Intruding on you in your sleep is wonderful, invading your home and snooping around your things is nothing more than an extra step for him, something for him to relax himself with, but with all your fearful glances, he’s never realized that he could force you to look scared, to see it up close and personal.

He continues to thrust against you, moving his cock and a hand, large and heavy, fingers that look perfect and immaculate, wrap around your throat, small, pale scars wrap around his fingers like rings of past lovers, memorabilia that is only seen when looked upon closely. He tightens his hand, cutting off air and your body reacts first, going rigid, hands raising and eyes popping open in horror and he truly does ponder what it must be like to see him. Your nails dig into his hands, eyes already wet with tears, and you’re horrified. He can practically smell it off of you, the dripping arousal, the way he can feel your heart speed up through the pulse in your neck, the way you gasp for breath and he can hear you whisper out something, strained and hoarse, only able to be heard when he stills his hips and stops the lewd noises that scream from your cunt.

“Ghostface,” you mumble, bottom lip trembling and a lovely blue color forming on your face.

His smile is stretched comically beneath his mask. “That’s right.” He pulls out, the tip still warm inside of you, leaking with arousal and he slams back into you, legs tensing, muscles strained and taut as he fucks you. “The one and only,” he whispers, pressing the mask against your face, the soft mesh of the black mouth kissing against your frightful parted lips.

He keeps a hand around your neck, loosening it enough for you to breathe again, while his other hand slips between your meshed bodies, dipping past your mound and into your slit, circling around your clit, feeling it throb under his touch. He laughs and it’s full of pride. He holds you close, pulling you deep against him, a soft cry when you instinctively clench as he circles around your pearl. Tears slip past your eyes, catching against your eyelashes like pearls, latching onto his hands like dew on the morning, and he’s pressed himself still against you, hand leaving your clit, and reaching blindly for the abandoned camera, taking a picture of you with a hand around your throat and tears a simple, but handsome ornament. On the screen is you, terrified and crying and he tosses the camera to the side, plastic buried into your chest as he fills your hungry cunt with his seed.

“I can’t wait to see you with a round body.” He pushes himself further against you, cock dribbling inside of you, filling you with copious amounts of semen. “Fat fucking tits-” his tongue pushes against the black fabric covering his mouth, licking at your chest that has moistened with his quick breath- “a creamy, little cunt that will beg to be fucked.” His hand returns to your clit, pinching the bud between two fingers and hearing you squeal makes him thrust his hips, shivers running down his spine, the sensitivity making squirts of thick discharge fill your already prepped cervix. “Trust me-” he rises and looks at you and he knows he’s making eye contact- “when I’m back, I’ll make sure to make you feel good.”

He latches onto you, hand escaping your neck and he hears you gasp for breath. You wheeze and croak, crying and pleading for him to stop and it only pushes for him to go further, to fuck you until your muscles start to tense, twitching and pulsing. You moan and it’s muffled by a bite of your lips. It’s a short sound, cutoff and ruined by you, but it’s alluring, melodic and making him shove two digits into your mouth, pulling your jaw down by your teeth and his fingertips rest flat against your tongue. Your moans are stretched, muffled and broken and it’s still enough for him to want more, to push himself deep inside of you, to have you reach your own high if it meant he could hear more of your perverse sounds.

“Say my name,” he murmurs, naked body sticking to yours by his sweat. “Scream. I want to hear you say the name of the one who’s making you feel this good. Scream and I promise that you’ll survive this night.” He kisses you through the meshed black of the mask, salvia swapped and spreading into a thin puddle of his mask, pushing his tongue through it until he feels as if it’s going to rip. You were always going to survive. He’s had too much fun to ever let you go but you don’t know that and he uses it to his advantage.

It’s a whisper, a soft movement of your lips against his. Your nipples rub against his chest and his name is broken with your voice. “Ah,” you sing, tightening your legs and your high is approaching. “Ghost-” he can hear the disgust and lust mixed with each other- “Ghostface,” you murmur. It’s repeated until your voice is hoarse, lust taking over, eyes heavy and rolling back, arms reaching around him and you’re entangled in a gruesome hug with him, moaning his name as your cunt clenches around him, flooding with your release, his name a mantra under your breath, echoed in the room and he stills, spilling inside of you. Eyes closed and resting his body onto you as you squirm underneath, desperate to continue your high. His name, “Ghostface” slowly murmured, a mess of his name as you release against him.

#ghostface x reader #ghost face x reader #ghostface #danny johnson dbd #dbd x reader #dbd ghostface #dbd ghostface x reader #the ghostface x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson headcanons #danny johnson imagine #tw: somnophilia #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: breeding #i couldve done better with the breeding aspect but eh #rushed ending so sorry about that

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reidsnose · 4 years ago

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Young and Beautiful

overview: spencer and reader spend the day together and feel like little kids again

genre: fluff

a/n: ok i think this concept is so cute but i feel like i wrote it dumb LMAO but its fine i'm excited tho lmk if y'all like it at all :)

masterlist

the setting sun peaked through the trees as you and Spencer walked around aimlessly. it wasn't often that you had days off, let alone enough to spend together. and the city was curiously empty, the usual bustle of the day having died down by evening. most people are itching to go home on a random Wednesday night.

"i really don't like the look of those clouds y/n." Spencer warned, pointing towards a large, dark gray cloud.

"i already told you i checked the weather and they said no rain!" you countered, though you had to admit the cloud looked pretty hefty. "it will probably just pass us over."

he hummed a hesitant agreement and carried on with the conversation you two were having. you looked around as the two of you talked, taking in the peace of the moment. the light breeze, the the hum of distant cars as you neared a park, the way the sunlight sparkled in Spencer's eyes as he talked, a golden tint covering the world around you.

he watched you soaking up the beauty around you, wondering if you ever saw your own. you were truly the most beautiful person alive. inside and out. he smiled to himself as your eyes lingering on the empty playground.

"you wanna go to the playground?" he asked, your eyes lighting up.

"is that weird? like were fully adults why is that twisty slide calling my name?" you giggled.

in a surge of confidence, he grabbed your hand and started running towards the playground with you, the rouge on your cheeks masked by the flush of a quick run. when he was around you, he felt like a kid again. you did too.

you tried not to think about how your hand tingled from holding his. it was only a couple of seconds and probably meant nothing, but you couldn't shed that wonderful feeling.

you guys raced to the slide, giggling like a bunch of school kids at recess. he beat you to the twisty slide, climbing quickly to the top and sliding down head first right off the end. you followed immediately after, arms stretched in front of you like superman and landing on the floor next to him.

"God, this reminds me of making a 'best friend' every time i went to the playground as a kid," you laughed, standing up and offering him a hand.

"cant say i relate to that," he chuckled, grabbing your outstretched hand and hoisting himself off the ground, sending a surge of electricity through his veins.

"oh come on! you never met another kid at the park and you two swore to be best friends forever and then never saw each other again?"

"nope," he replied, popping the p, "i didn't go to the playground much when i was little, nor was i the most sociable kid."

"hmm..." you hummed, "well i think you need to experience that."

he chuckled, but this time it was your turn to grab his hand and lead him somewhere. you two ran to get under the jungle gym, his long legs struggling to fit underneath.

"what are we doing under here?" he laughed, grunting as he pulled on his legs so he could sit criss cross.

"you're making your first ever playground best friend." you answered simply, sticking out your pinky. "do you...state your full name.."

"Spencer Walter Reid." he laughed, looping his pinky with yours.

"do you Spencer Walter Reid pinky promise that we will be best friends forever and ever?" you asked, trying hard to keep a straight face and failing miserably.

"i do." he answered, shaking your intertwined pinkies up and down after he was met with silence.

"ok now ask me," you whispered.

"do you...state your full name.." he echoed.

"y/f/n." you giggled.

"do you y/f/n pinky promise that we will be best friends forever and ever?" he asked, stifling a smile.

"i do." you answered, pinkies still linked in front of you.

"ok now what?" he whispered.

"by the power vested in me by this playground, i now pronounce us best friends forever. we may now kiss our thumbs." you announced.

he laughed confused and you both leaned in, pecking your own thumbs on the pinky promise hand, only the distance of your linked hands between your lips.

he blurted a fact on the history of kissing, how it was used in the olden days to seal the deal. he also mentioned how all the pinky promises he's ever done never involved him kissing his thumb, you laughed and said that it must be a Vegas thing.

you two used just about every piece of playground equipment, truly feeling like little kids again. giggling and screaming and being immature, your inner children completely taking over.

a clap of thunder interrupted you two while taking turns jumping off of the swings. your eyes grew wide as you looked at each other, recalling how you swore it wasn't going to rain.

just as you opened your mouth to say it still might not rain, it started absolutely pouring. the both of you were drenched in seconds, grabbing haphazardly onto eachothers hands and breaking out into a sprint, running as fast as both of you could in the direction of Spencer's apartment (which was much closer than yours).

but he did not have the long distance endurance, and to be honest neither did you and after a few minutes of running, you guys were still about half a mile away, huffing and puffing and soaking wet.

Spencer wasn't sure if most of his breath was lost from running, or from holding onto you this long. maybe a mix of both?

"lets just walk! were soaked already so who cares!" he shouted over the pitter patter of the storm, still hand and hand with you.

"who are you and what have you done with Spencer," you laughed, lifting your joined hands above you and twirling underneath.

he only chuckled a response, this time he lifted your intertwined hands allowing you to twirl again, humming a classical piece horribly off key.

the two of you started dancing down the sidewalk, spinning and jumping and swaying and leaping and laughing til you could barely stand. his lanky limbs flying left and right as you took turns humming different styles of music, even opting for an Irish jig at one point. and all in the pouring rain.

this was arguably the most fun either of you had ever had and we all know what happens to time when you're enjoying yourself. before you knew it you guys had arrived at his apartment.

water dripped from the both of you as you ran up the stairs, slipping and sliding all over the place.

"let me give you some of my clothes to change into so you don't have to drive home all soaked," he offered, unlocking the door and beckoning you to come inside.

"thanks bestie," you giggled, suppressing a shiver as you stepped inside.

he grabbed two towels, handing you one as you followed him into his room and watched him searching his dresser for something to give you.

he gave you a pair of sweatpants and told you to pick any sweater you wanted, causing you both to turn a deep shade of red as you realized you were sharing clothes.

he grabbed some clothes for himself and went to go change in the bathroom, letting you use his bedroom for more privacy. it was always the little things he did for you that made your heart burst.

you pulled his sweater over your head, taking in the smell of him that lingered on it. you smiled to yourself as you did, realizing you're already close enough with him to recognize it.

you finished changing and walked out of his room, seeing him reading on his couch, lounging in comfy clothes.

the sight of you in his clothes left him speechless, he imagined if you two were dating this might be a common occurrence. he shook his head of the thought and stood up as you offered him a smile, grabbing your keys off of the counter.

"thank you for today Spencer, it was.." you looked up at him trying not to get lost in his eyes, "..so much fun."

"thank you for making me feel like a kid again, there aren't many people who can do that. i don't know what i would do without you" he smiled, stepping slightly closer to you.

you couldn't believe your ears, or what was about to come toppling out of your mouth. he was just being so sweet and sentimental, your brain short circuited.

"love you forever." you blurted, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

to your surprise (and delight), he stuck out his pinky, which you gladly looped with your own.

"love you more." he professed, leaning in to kiss his thumb.

him admitting this gave you an incredible rush of confidence and as you both went in to seal the deal of the pinky promise, you tightened your pinky with his and pulled your hands down, pecking his lips with your own.

it was a quick kiss but you still felt like you were on top of the world.

Spencer barely had time to process what had happened before it was already over. he couldn't believe it. the perfect kiss with the most perfect girl and he nearly missed it.

he pulled you back for one more, slightly longer kiss, just to make sure. you both smiled into it, floating around on cloud nine.

you pulled away and smiled widely at his lovesick face before giving a small wave and walking out the door, scampering down the stairs and out to your parked car.

he snapped out of his daze and ran to the window, waving goodbye to you with the worlds dopiest smile on his face. it dropped suddenly as he realized he never truly asked you out on a date.

"y/n!" he called from the window. you looked back up at him and waved, "do you wanna go out this weekend?"

you laughed before calling back at him, "its a date!"

ultra mega super cool taglist

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @spenxerslut @violetspoetic @aperrywilliams @b-a-utiful @eevee0722 @srhxpci @reidemandweep @imdefinitelyfloating @random-human-person @gurkiloni @luvspence @calm-and-doctor @ssavanessa22 @singularityjc @sydnee-kom-spacekru

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a-dorin · 5 years ago

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will you be my valentine? | star wars x reader

little blurbs on how the lovely men of star wars ask you to be their valentine!

poe dameron

unfortunately, poe could not spend the holiday with you due to a mission. once he came back, he found you immediately, scooping you into his arms, holding you tightly into his chest. of course he felt horrible that the two of you had to celebrate a day late, but he still wanted to spend time with you. that night, the two of you had a picnic, and laid out on a blanket, stargazing for hours. poe faced you so that your eyes met, his brown eyes twinkling in the dark.

after a while, the two of you began to talk, holding conversations about everything. the topics ranged from the stars, to the resistance progress, to the kinds of food you guys liked. you loved when poe opened up to you, as the trauma of the war often left him silent. however, tonight was special, a memory you’d hold in your heart for a lifetime.

“will you be my valentine?” a goofy grin was plastered on his face.

“of course,” you giggled, pressing your lips to his for a tender kiss.

kylo ren

the commander of the first order was never one for celebrating holidays, or even acknowledging them. however, since a certain engineer had caught his attention, he was sure to celebrate valentine’s day this year. sure, he thought everything was cliche and sickening, but he had a soft spot for you. kylo ren thought you were beautiful, alluring him at every encounter. that morning, on your daily route, you noticed a tall shadow standing in a corridor, glowing underneath the lights. you arched a brow, confusion and excitement swirling in the pit of your stomach.

kylo ren, the man everyone feared on the ship, was standing before you, a small bouquet of flowers held in his leather gloves. you felt a small smile form, as you realized his mask was off, his features prominent. he outstretched his arm, you taking them in your fingertips. momentarily, your hands touched, a blush spreading into your cheeks.

“i have a request,” kylo stated, his voice low, “will you be my valentine?”

you nodded, “yes. of course.”

a sheepish grin spread across the commander’s face, his heart swelling. he escorted you to your duties, elbow linked with yours, the two of you content.

general hux

general armitage hux was hopelessly in love with you. the only catch: the two of you worked together as officers, so your relationship was strictly professional. however, kylo ren was off on an independent mission, so it allowed the first order employees to celebrate valentine’s day. that night, at a banquet, hux eyed you from across the room as you giggled with your coworkers, a drink in your hand.

he approached you confidently, “ms. (l/n), can i have this dance?”

“of course,” you nodded, your voice warm.

hux whisked you to the dance floor, his technique flawless as one hand rested on your waist, the other on your shoulder, “i have to say, you’re the most gorgeous woman i have ever met.”

a blush spread through your cheeks, “you are quite handsome yourself, general.”

“would you do me the pleasure of being my valentine?” his question surged with eagerness.

“of course,” you placed a soft kiss on his cheek, “i have been waiting for you to ask me that all day.”

for the first time in months, you witnessed a grand smile stretch across hux’s face, “well, we were both preoccupied with our duties?”

you bit your lip, eyeing the ginger up and down, “are you going to be preoccupied with duties later tonight?”

the general’s face turned a shade as red as his hair.

luke skywalker

with the weight of his ancestry and jedi training bearing down on him, luke had been beyond stressed lately. as one of his closest friends, it pained you seeing him exhausted. it was evening when you approached his quarters, the sun well set beyond the horizon. you knocked softly on the door, a tray of luke’s favorite delicacies in your hands.

“come in,” his voice rose from behind the door.

you opened it, walking into the room. the glow of a lantern cast a warm light over the room, luke’s skin glowing golden as he studied ancient texts, flipping through the pages of a book.

his eyes glanced up from the book when he noticed the tray beside him, “is this for me?”

“yes,” a giggle escaped your lips.

“thank you,” the blonde’s eyes softened, “it really means a lot.”

“well,” you shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “you mean a lot to me, luke.”

he rose from his chair, wrapping his arms around you, “i have a question for you, (y/n).”

“and that is?” your lips were dangerously close to his neck.

“will you be my valentine?” he titled your chin up, his blue eyes locking with yours.

“of course,” you murmured.

luke leaned in, the space between you closing as his lips collided with yours.

han solo

a sigh escaped your lips as you sat in a chair in the control room, han desperately attempting to carry out the mission, chewie keeping guard at the door. things were not going according to plan, per usual with han solo, but he was reassuring the resistance that everything was under control. of course, the man wouldn’t do any damage to his ego, swallowing his pride for once.

“listen,” han cleared his throat catching your attention, “if we don’t make it through this mission, i have something i wanted to ask you.”

you pursed your lips together, unsure of what was going through the pilot’s mind. of course, the mission had to take place on valentine’s day, a holiday that was not traditionally celebrated, but it was fun nonetheless.

“what do you want to ask me?” your tone was cross. of course you were upset with han. most of the time the mistakes were his fault anyways.

“will you be my valentine?” a smug grin replaced the look of concern.

“han, we’ve been together for a couple years,” you deadpanned, “is that really what you want me to remember before we die?”

“oh come on sweetheart,” han groaned, “i love you, (//n) (y/l/n).”

your annoyance with the pilot dissolved, your heart skipping a beat, “i love you too, han solo.”

darth maul

patiently, you awaited the arrival of your lover, the zabrak of darthomir. he was on a mission, with the intent of finding his sworn enemy, obi-wan. worry was the main emotion overwhelming you, as maul promised he would return within a few days. it had been a week, and you were terrified that he was gone, forever.

of course, it didn’t help any that it was a day of love. valentine’s day was wrapping up, your sadness rising as you realized you didn’t get to spend it with your love.

the creaking of a door caught your attention, causing you to sit up in the bed. the moon glowed, light filtering in through the curtains. maul entered the room, a shadow in the darkness. you swallowed, sensing his aura of despair and disappointment. the mission was not a success.

the zabrak slipped into bed, his black and red back facing you. gently, you began to run your fingertips along his spine, tracing his tattoos. he let out a sigh, “i missed you, my love.”

you pressed a gentle kiss on his shoulder, “i have been waiting for days for your return.”

he rolled over, his amber eyes gleaming in the night, “i know, angel. i am aware that day was a holiday as well. i feel insufficient that i could not spend the day with you.”

shaking your head, any resentment for maul disintegrated, “don’t apologize. i understand.”

“i love you, my valentine,” maul murmured, placing his hands on your cheeks, pulling you in for a sweet and gentle kiss.

finn

since finn is very shy when it comes to romantic gestures, he knew he should ask someone who was more experienced for guidance. of course, the first person he went for advice was the ladies man himself, poe dameron. the two of you had been best friends for a long time, but finn was ready to confess his feelings for you, since the day was so special regardless. on valentine’s day, you sat at your desk in the infirmary, noticing a brightly colored box. you opened it, your heart softening when you grasped the necklace in your fingertips. finn poked his head in, smiling when he noticed you opened his gift.

“did you like your gift?” he inquired, eager for your response.

“i love it,” you gushed, rising up from your seat.

“will you be my valentine?” finn beamed.

“yes,” you nodded, “i would love to.”

the two of you embraced, happiness filling you to the brim.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #poe x reader #poe dameron x reader #hux x reader #general hux #poe dameron #finn #finn x reader #darth maul #han solo #han solo x reader #luke skywalker #valentine #valentine's day #star wars #star wars x reader #will you be my valentine?

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unsteadygalaxy · 4 years ago

Text

all is soft inside chapter 11

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3, my username is the same there!

previous | next

11. one day life will be kind

Mother is soft.

They don’t know a lot of things, but they know that much. Mother is soft as she cradles them in her arms. She’s singing something sweet and soothing, and it distracts them from their tears. Why are they crying again? They don’t remember.

They look up at her with wide, shining eyes, and watch her mouth as it moves. Her braids fall over her shoulders, and their fingers grasp at them, pulling lightly. She laughs and tugs their wandering hands away, kissing their little palm.

“I love you, little one. Keep your curious heart with you always. It will serve you well.”

They’re too little to understand what she’s saying, of course, but the tenderness of her tone makes them smile and laugh. Mother is so kind and warm. And soft.

------

Father is soft. Mostly.

He tosses them gleefully in the air, and they just giggle. He catches them, of course, like he always does. Their mother looks on, caught between amusement and worry, and she cautions Johann not to drop them.

“I won’t!” he replies, smiling at her. “Brigida, my love. You worry too much.” He looks at them. “Your mother means well, little one. She just wants to protect you.”

They know their parents love them. They know they’ll always be there to protect them.

Until, of course, they aren’t.

------

Artur is not soft.

His hands are rough and scarred and cracked from how dry the air is, and they pass uncomfortably against their knee as he bandages their bleeding wound. They wish Mother was here. Her hands were always soft, made so by the lotion she spread between her palms each morning. But Mother is gone now. She’s resting under the ground, like Amma and Afi. And Father.

“Okay,” Artur says gruffly. “No more bleeding. Better now?”

They nod, their tears smearing across their arm as they wipe their eyes.

“Good. Be strong, young one. Save your tears.”

He stands up and pats their head, leaving them alone on the porch. The pain in their knee stings, but it soon subsides to a dull ache. They run across the meadow to lay in the grass, running their fingers through the long green blades. The grass is cool and soothing. And soft.

------

Sigrid is only soft when she’s not teaching them how to throw an axe.

“Again!” she commands, but there’s a glint of fierce pride in her eyes. They run to the target and pick up the axe from where it had fallen and scurry back to the mark.

“Feel the weight of it in your hand, young one. Balance it, and breathe deep…”

They follow her instructions carefully, aiming for the center of the target. They suck air into their lungs, raise the axe, and throw as hard as they can, a small grunt leaving their chest.

The axe embeds itself into the target, just barely off center.

Sigrid smiles. The lines around her eyes soften.

------

Some of the villagers are soft, afterwards. And some are not.

They know it’s not their fault. Their brain knows it, but their heart can’t keep up. After all, they had failed to obey Artur in the first place, and he was dead because of that.

He was dead because of them. And the villagers knew it.

“Take responsibility for your actions,” one of them says, seething at them. “You will forever be in the Gods’ debt.”

Bloodhound had watched Artur’s funeral ship disappear over the lake. They had watched as something in Sigrid’s heart died when she looked out over the horizon.

And years later, they watched as their aunt, too, dissolved into the water.

There weren’t many of them left after that.

------

Boone is soft.

He often tells Bloodhound of his dreams to leave the village, to leave Talos, to become a doctor or a nurse somewhere he could properly flourish. These confessions are whispered between feverish kisses and gentle caresses in the dark- always in the dark; it’s easier that way- and Bloodhound wants to go with him.

“There are so many opportunities out there, Hound!” he gushes to them, lying bare next to them under the thick furs, his blue eyes sparkling in the darkness. “We could save people. We could help them.” He is quiet for a moment. “We could learn things that would have saved Artur.”

Bloodhound is silent every time he says that. He mentions it many times. To Boone, the IMC is that opportunity for something more. Bloodhound cannot forgive, nor can they forget that the IMC’s arrogance buried their parents under the ice.

But Boone can.

Boone turns nineteen and leaves the village, his beautiful eyes full of pain and anger.

Days later, Bloodhound also turns nineteen. They walk through the forest one last time, giving the old facility a wide berth, and no one from the village sees them for years.

------

Bloodhound very quickly finds that the universe is like a jötunn.

They’re nineteen and a half years old and sleeping on the streets.

The city is too loud. It hurts their ears and rumbles constantly and plucks at their mask with its curious eyes, demanding everything. They are not careful enough. It takes from them without mercy, shreds every bit of dignity from them without restraint, rips open their chest without any care in the world who they are or who they have been.

In a way, they’re grateful for the anonymity. They’re grateful for the trial. Every night, they offer up their pleas to the Gods to guide them and help them choose the right path. But the Allfather is no longer listening. He abandoned them the moment they left Talos.

They think they deserve it. Just a little. (Or a lot.)

Sometimes, people offer them a place to stay. They decline. They are used to huddling under doorsteps, crouching beneath benches, sleeping underneath the canopy of trees in the park.

They miss the forest. They miss the village.

They miss Mother.

------

They are twenty and they think everything might be okay.

Ophelia smiles at them wearily, sliding them a large stack of plates to be cleaned. “Careful with these!” she always cautions. “These are the only plates this whole place has got.” Wisps of her red hair poke out from under her hairnet, and she reminds Bloodhound of Sigrid. Their heart aches in their chest.

Their hands and forearms throb from washing pots and pans all day, but they scrub each dish carefully, stacking them next to the sink. When they are done, they sigh, remove the rubber gloves, and lean against the counter. They and Ophelia talk about everything and nothing, exchanging stories and jokes as they clean up for the night.

But Bloodhound slips on a puddle of water and crashes into the counter, sending the stack of freshly cleaned plates tumbling into the ground. The glass shatters into millions of tiny pieces, littering the floor with a minefield of shards, and George fires them on the spot.

George is not soft. Not in the slightest. But Bloodhound can’t even blame him.

------

They are twenty and a half and their whole body aches.

“No,” they choke, clutching their chest, pressing the respirator into their face. They’re barely keeping themself off the ground, having been brought to their knees by the burning in their lungs. “No more. Please. I cannot.”

“You think that because your lungs are broken that you cannot master the blade?” Huizhen barks, pointing one of the dao swords directly in their face. “You are wrong, young one, as you often are. It is not your lungs that limit you.”

Bloodhound wants to scream, to yell, to rage against his expectations, but this language is firm and unyielding, and their tongue cannot form the words.

Huizhen sighs and offers them a hand. At least he is soft, sometimes.

------

They are twenty-two and Kwan’s knee presses uncomfortably into their chest.

“Please,” they gasp, trying to wrench her off of them, feeling the impact of her blows all across their body. “I am done, please, get off-”

“No, you are not done,” she says sternly, the line of her mouth thin and severe. Bloodhound struggles against her grip, their hands scrabbling against her knee. “You are not done until your Gods will it. Do you wish to betray your Gods, child?”

“No, never-”

“Good.” She lifts her knee and stands, leaving them gasping on the ground, massaging their ribs in anguish. “Honor them. Beg for their forgiveness and bring them glory. You are capable of so much more than this.”

Kwan’s eyes are hard, critical, pitying. She shakes her head at them and walks away.

------

They are twenty-five and they want nothing more than to go back home to Talos.

A fist connects with their chest, and their breath exits their lungs in a thorough whoosh. The impact knocks them back a little, and they stumble over their own feet, trying to stay upright. Another fist comes flying at their face, and they dodge it just barely. Bloodhound ducks and jabs their fist up into the man’s stomach, but he barely even flinches. He sends a fist into their gut, and another into their jaw, and they fly backwards, hitting the ground hard.

They feel the mask break around their face, and they panic, trying to press the pieces back together. But their hands are shaking and their breathing won’t settle, and their lungs burn horribly with exertion and shame. The mask falls fully to the ground, and a thousand pairs of eyes bore holes into their face.

“A face only a mother could love, that is!” a spectator jeers, as someone plops a wad of bills into his outstretched hand.

“Poor ugly bastard, no one would want a face like that,” another laughs, throwing a crumpled up piece of paper into the ring. The crowd begins to laugh and boo and jeer, and Bloodhound’s heart dissolves in a roaring maw of acid.

Their opponent looms above them, and they can’t do anything but stare up at him in terror. His eyes glint with a triumphant spark, and nothing about him is soft at all.

------

They are twenty-six and their money has run out.

They lurk in the shadows, waiting for some unsuspecting poor soul to wander out of the bar. A man stumbles out the door, leaning against the frame for a moment before he promptly throws up into the trash can.

Bloodhound seizes their chance.

“Are you all right?” they ask as they approach him, trying to make their tone friendly so he’s not alarmed by the mask. It doesn’t work.

“Who’re you?” he slurs, trying to pull away from their outstretched hands.

“Do not worry. I am just going to call you a cab,” they soothe, grabbing him to hold him upright. He immediately goes slack in their arms, and Bloodhound swiftly searches his pockets for his wallet or billfold. They locate it with ease and pocket it, and they’re left feeling a strange sense of longing.

They haven’t touched another person like this in years. Never mind that it’s not romantic. Never mind that it’s not even platonic. The pressure of this man’s body against theirs satisfies a deep ache they have been harbouring for an eternity, and they have to force themself to instantly let go of him. He stumbles blearily and collapses against the wall of the bar, groaning.

They walk away, the man’s wallet burning a hole in their pocket.

------

They are twenty-eight and what they’re doing feels so, so wrong.

“Just hold still,” she murmurs, her soft, well-manicured hands moving down their chest and stomach to undo the belt around their waist. Bloodhound tries to relax, tries to press their head back down into the pillows and let Keres do her work. She’s beautiful, and certainly attractive, and they know that she would treat them well, but this feels so foreign, so alien. They… they don’t deserve this. Not after… everything. Panic and fear seize their chest, and flashes of memory flit across their eyes- Boone’s beautiful blue eyes locked on theirs as he moved in to kiss them; his hands on their body as they moved together; his heartbeat in their ear as they relaxed in his arms, breathing heavily-

Her fingers make quick work of their belt, button, and zipper, and she’s eagerly teasing the pants off their legs when they cry out, “Stop!”

Keres’ lust-filled eyes wander up to theirs, and she looks irritated. Cross. “What is it?” Her voice holds no softness, only a hard frustration that Bloodhound flinches against.

“Please, just stop,” they beg, pulling their pants back up in a hurry. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done this.” They nearly kick Keres in the face in their rush, and she dodges, scoffing.

“Fine,” she spits, sitting up straight and pushing all her gorgeous brown hair over one shoulder. “I bet you couldn’t handle me anyway.”

Bloodhound scrambles off the bed, grabs their bag, and is out the door before she can insult them any further. The moment they had refused, she had been so biting, so annoyed. Bloodhound does not think they would have enjoyed it like she thought they would.

But she could have been soft.

------

They are thirty-five and tired. So tired.

They slide the card back across the table, fold their arms across their chest, and shake their head. “I have no need of your petty squabbles for fame and glory,” they say, their tone flat and emotionless. “I have my own path to follow, and I do not wish to disrupt it.”

Blisk shrugs. “Up to you. You know where to find me.” He pushes his chair back and stands, and then begins to walk away. But he stops, seeming to remember something, and turns. “You know, that accent of yours sounds a little familiar. Met a doctor a couple years back that sounded just like you. Wouldn’t happen to be from Talos, would you?”

Bloodhound stiffens. “No.”

“Shame.” He shrugs again, and yawns. “Knew some scientists that were there when the meltdown happened. Nasty stuff. Wonder if they might know anything about the team that died?”

Their blood turns to ice.

They pick up the card and pocket it. “Count me in.”

Blisk smiles. There is no softness there. “That’s what I thought.”

------

They are thirty-eight and their senses are muddled and crossed.

Bloodhound can just barely make out a couple of voices fighting, but they’re much too tired to try and figure out who they are.

“Hey, look, I’m just trying to see if they’re okay-”

“And I am telling you that their medical details are none of your business. Bloodhound’s privacy contract very clearly states that no one aside from myself or Ms. Che is allowed inside their room after matches without their express consent. You will just have to wait, Mr. Witt.”

“...Damn. You’re just as stubborn as they are.” A pause. Then, “Why do you sound just like them?”

Bloodhound’s eyes flutter, then open.

An ache immediately settles into their limbs, concentrating in their skull and neck and radiating outward to their extremities. The light from above the medical bed pierces their eyes and makes them sting, and they turn their head away in discomfort. Their head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. Bloodhound groans a little, their hand moving to rub their eyes. Someone has removed their helmet and goggles, but they’re not afraid. They trust their doctor with their life.

The sound of quiet feet greets their ears and they look up, squinting through the bright lights above them. “What happened?” they ask in their native tongue, and their mouth is uncomfortably dry.

“It seems that you lost.” Boone’s voice is tired, annoyed. Bloodhound’s vision clears up, and they watch as Boone scribbles on a clipboard, his blue eyes sparkling under brows furrowed in concentration. His white-blond hair is tied up in a bun, little wisps falling out at his hairline and his nape. A long-forgotten curl of fondness takes place under Bloodhound’s ribs, but they allow it to drain away, knowing they’re just high on pain medication. Their time with him has long since passed.

“And so it does. How long was I asleep?” Their voice feels brittle and drained, and they swallow to bring some moisture back. It’s difficult, but eventually their mouth no longer feels dry and sticky. “And where is Artur?”

“I sent Artur on his way. He’s fine. Not a scratch on him. It’s only been a couple hours since the end of the match.” Boone replies. He finishes writing and clicks his pen. “You’re good to go. Rig did its job. You should only have a headache for a couple hours.” Boone inclines his head toward the door, finally looking at them. “You’ve got a visitor, by the way, and he’s quite insistent upon seeing you. Keeps bothering me every time I leave the room.”

Bloodhound’s eyes wander to the door, and they spot shadows of a pair of feet passing back and forth on the other side of it. They would recognize Elliott’s anxious pacing anywhere. A smile wanders onto their face, and they forget that they do not have their goggles on to help hide their emotions.

Boone scoffs and rolls his eyes, his jaw set. “Really, Hound? Mirage? That’s just pathetic.”

“What do you mean?” Bloodhound asks, a hint of defensiveness creeping into their heart.

“Heartthrob of the Outlands, isn’t he? Bet he’s got a new person in his bed every other night.” Boone strides over to the whiteboard on the wall and jots down a few notes.

A strange flash of annoyance strikes Bloodhound’s chest, and their eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know that, Boone. For all you know, he could be completely inexperienced.”

Boone laughs, his face incredulous and doubting. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Houndie. Mirage, a virgin? Even you know that’s a load of shit.”

“Don’t call me Houndie,” they snap, locating their goggles to put them back on. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Oh, fine, Bloodhound,” he replies, rolling his eyes. He hands them their helmet from where it had been lying on a side table, just as they finish stretching their limbs. “Just get your things and get out of here. And if he kisses you, don’t say I told you so.”

Bloodhound’s cheeks burn fiercely, and they’re more than happy to put the helmet back on. “Him? Kiss me? You’re out of your mind, Boone.” They get up from the bed and test their balance, keeping a hand on the sheets. Their head pounds and spins just a little bit, but they breathe deep through the respirator and the spinning soon stops. “Elliott would never bother with a face like this. Besides, who said I was interested?”

“Oh, it’s Elliott now?” Boone smirks. “That familiar with him, are you?”

“Oh, hush,” Bloodhound says, already irritated with him. “Do I get anything for the pain, or must I suffer even more because of your nonsense?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t like taking an entire magazine of R-99 bullets to the head?” he says sarcastically, already starting to change the bedsheets. “Of course I’m helping you out. Top drawer, over there.” He points to the counter in the corner, and Bloodhound goes to retrieve the bottle of pills. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“You know I would never say that,” Bloodhound sighs, rolling their eyes and pocketing the small bottle. Boone was often so sarcastic and assuming- those were qualities that Bloodhound did not like in him. Even after nearly a lifetime of losing each other and finding each other, there were some things that never changed. “Thank you, Boone.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Hound.” Boone nods to them as they walk out into the hall, and Bloodhound inclines their head towards him as they shut the door.

Bloodhound winces as a wave of pain radiates throughout their skull. They can’t wait till they are safely in their apartment so they can take off the mask, down some of the pain pills, and hopefully take a nap. The medical bay is mostly empty now, with only a few doctors and nurses walking through the halls towards their patients. They look around the hallway, and sure enough, Elliott is standing up from his chair, a relieved expression on his face.

“Hey,” he says, a smile breaking through as he walks toward them. “Your doctor finally let you go, huh?”

“Yes, he did,” Bloodhound replies, glancing behind them to make sure they properly closed the door. “I trust him with my life. I hope you can understand his reluctance to allow anyone inside while I am not aware of who is present.”

“Of course,” Elliott replies, nodding. “Hey, why does he sound like you? You guys have really similar ac- accents. Are you siblings or something?”

A funny little jolt electrifies Bloodhound’s veins, and weirdly, they laugh. “No. Boone and I are not siblings, but… we did grow up together.” The casualness with which they drop such a guarded piece of information startles even Bloodhound, and they snap their mouth shut. Thankfully, Elliott has seemed to pick up on when they feel uncomfortable, so he does not push the question further, even though Bloodhound can tell he wants to.

“Are you okay?” He fidgets with his fingers a little, and Bloodhound notices that he has not yet gone home to shower- his hands are caked in dirt and blood. He still smells like sweat and gunpowder, but Bloodhound can just barely make out the scent of his cologne beneath it all. They blush.

“I am fine, Elliott. Why are you still here?” they ask, a little harsher than intended. They find themself wishing they could take off the mask so he could see the smile that they force onto their face so he knows they’re not mad.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he replies, shrugging. “Can’t a man check on his friend?” He raises an eyebrow, and Bloodhound can sense the playfulness in his tone.

“You are right,” they admit, bowing their head a little. “Thank you. You are very kind.” They stand there awkwardly, not sure whether to leave or stay, but Elliott begins to walk to the exit, and Bloodhound follows him without a second thought. “Congratulations on your win today, félagi. It was much deserved, and I am proud of your improvement.”

Elliott laughs and ruffles his own hair, and the way it sticks up makes a curious little feeling rest under Bloodhound’s ribs. “Hey, thanks! I’d say sorry for landing you in the hospital, but it’s just an uc- up- occupational hazard at this point.” He shrugs. “Least I could do is make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be fine,” they assure him. “I have a headache, but it will soon subside.” Bloodhound rolls their neck as they walk, sighing. They suddenly remember the way they had run out on Elliott the night before, and shame floods their stomach, twisting it painfully.

“I am sorry for leaving so abruptly last night,” they murmur, their own fingers beginning to fidget with the bits of fabric on their coat. “I… I was overcome by an unpleasant memory, and I did not want to disturb you with my emotions.” The apology does not feel sufficient enough. Elliott has been so patient with them, so kind and supportive, and they’ve done nothing but hide from him. They want… they want to open up to him. Would that be safe? Would it be smart? They don’t know, but the burden of keeping everything to themself is beginning to weigh on them, and they hope that Elliott can withstand the enormity of their secrets.

Elliott shakes his head. “I was really worried about you.” His voice is low and warm, and it feels like an embrace of warmth. His arm twitches, and it almost feels like he wants to grab their hand. But he thinks better of it, and instead goes back to fidgeting with his fingers. “It means a lot, what you told me. I know that must have been hard.”

Bloodhound’s heart fills with a hope they haven’t felt in years, and if they weren’t still in the hospital, they would have pulled him into their arms right then and there. The urge is so unlike them, so uncharacteristic of their usual persona that they wonder just how much the pain medication is affecting them. They settle their emotions and touch his arm briefly. “Thank you, vinur minn. I am blessed by your willingness to listen.”

An idea comes to their head, and if they had thought of it a couple weeks ago, they would have immediately rejected it. But things could change so quickly, and they had. Elliott is a testament to that. So they open their mouth and ask, “Would you like to visit me in my apartment later this evening? After we have both sufficiently washed, of course.” Their cheeks burn spectacularly at the implication, but he cannot see it, and for that, they are grateful. “I owe you a great many explanations.”

Elliott looks like he’s just been hit with a frag grenade. He stares at them blankly for a few agonizing moments, and Bloodhound thinks they have overstepped their bounds, but he begins to babble. “I- are you sure? I mean, yeah, absolutely! That would be great!” The grin that splits his face makes their heart leap spectacularly in their chest. “I would love to. You definitely owe me, H- I mean, Bloodhound.” His cheeks blaze, and it’s so endearing to Bloodhound that they smile at him stupidly underneath the mask.

“It is settled, then,” they announce, just as the pair of them reach the exit. “You are welcome to arrive any time after eight. That should give us both plenty of time to wash up and eat dinner.”

Elliott nods vigorously, smiling like a schoolboy. “It’s a date! I-I mean-” His face drains of color and he shakes his head. “It’s a, uh, it’s a m-meeting, or whatever you want it to be. I mean, it could be a date if you wanted but I, uh, I mean, that would be fine, I… guess?” The poor man looks like he wants to melt into the floor, and Bloodhound’s heart pounds in their chest as they chuckle.

Bloodhound is enchanted by his eagerness, by his willingness to be with them, and they hope they are not making more out of this than it is. “I will see you then, Elliott,” they say, touching his arm once more. They give him one last lingering look before they walk out the door and into the crisp Solace air.

#apex legends #miragehound #apex #bloodhound #mirage #bloodhound apex #bloodhound apex legends #mirage apex #mirage apex legends #elliott witt #elliott witt apex #elliott witt apex legends #miragehound fanfiction #my writing

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miki-snake · 5 years ago

Text

Sick of Losing Soulmates

📖: Y/N was never lucky with relationships and lost many soulmates on her way. With her current partner though, she was ready to risk it all.

Or - where y/n is going down on one knee💍

⭕️: mentions of past abusive relationship

🔍: 2.1k+

A/N: inspired by “sick of losing soulmates” by dodie

What a strange being you are, God knows where I would be If you hadn't found me, sitting all alone in the dark

Y/N has been through her fair share of relationships and honestly, she never had a good nose for the right guys. Her last relationship though, was by far the worst. There was no doubt that if she didn’t break out of the hell on that day, she’d still be stuck inside of that dark place. Her last partner was nothing but a manipulative and abusive asshole to her. He gave her bruises all over her body and isolated her from all of her friends. Well, there were still some people who stuck by her side through the horrible time.

What the hell would I be, without you Brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth

One particular friend was also the reason why you got out of that awful situation. Tsukishima has always been a tease with a foul mouth but he was also one of your best friends. Everyone knew about your situation and you still tried to keep yourself together. You forced yourself to smile and laugh, you just didn’t want to show them how you were slowly crumbling underneath your mask. Your friends did try to get you away from the jerk but you just weren’t in the right mindset to go through with it. After some time they just stopped trying to convince you and instead they focused on making your time as enjoyable as possible with them. None of them changed the way they acted towards you and you were glad for that. Tsukishima too, didn’t change and continued with all the teasing and snarky remarks.

But one time, his teasing just seemed to trigger something inside of you and you started to cry in front of him. You couldn’t even remember what it was that he said to you, you just knew that he didn’t mean any harm by that. To say that Tsukki was shocked would be an understatement. He was never the guy that could handle a lot of feeling besides occasional annoyance. You remember how he came closer and didn’t know if he should place his arms around you or if he should say something. So he opted for option c and placed his right hand on your head to pet you.

Your mask was falling in front of him and all he could come up with was petting your head. The gesture alone made you cry harder, but not because you were sad that he didn’t say things like “It will get better soon”. No, your tears were falling because you were so happy that he was there for you. It didn’t bother him that you were falling apart right at the moment, he just waited with you until your tears ceased and not once did he stop stroking your hair.

It was on that day, when you poured out all of your pent up feelings, when you felt like you could finally breathe again. Throughout all your venting Tsukishima never left your side and slipped in one or two comments, letting you know that he was actually listening to you. Once you were done you felt how his hand left your head and grabbed your wrist instead. A soft pull led you to fall into his chest and the smell of strawberries and coffee embraced your body. You two just stood there in the middle of the street, while he held you and you swear you never felt so happy before.

Through Tsukki’s support and encouragement you broke the curse you were trapped in at last. To be honest, you’ve never been so terrified in your life as in the moment you told your fucked up, now ex-boyfriend that you were breaking up with him. He got loud, threw stuff through the room and was coming at you with his hand raised, ready to “knock some sense into you”. Of course, he couldn’t get to you because you actually came prepared. Well, you just told Tsukishima that you wanted to end things and he came up with the ideas to go save and call back-up, just in case. So, when the jerk was pouncing at you he didn’t really get that far because Daichi and Sugawara, also called the y/n protection squad, were bursting through the door to save you. Daichi full on rammed into the idiot and restrained his hands behind his back, while Sugawara was holding up his phone recording everything.

The asshole spewed out more curses and tried to wriggle himself out of Daichi’s grip but there was no chance of escaping when Daichi got angry. There wasn’t much more you remembered from that scene because Tsukishima came to get you out of there as fast as possible.

You never heard of him again and you were very glad about it. It was like you could start all over again and your friends were also happy to see you more often with a real smile on your face. You were slowly healing and getting over your past but that didn’t mean that there weren’t any remnants of your past relationship left on you.

'Cause I'm sick of losing soulmates, so where do we begin I can finally see, you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

It was hard for you to believe in love again and trusting somebody in that sense became near impossible for you. Well, it wasn’t like you needed to be in a relationship anyway. You had your friends around you and you were content with how things were going. Though, you did long for someone who would truly love you from time to time. The problem wasn’t that you missed someone who would smother you with their love for you, no. The problem was that every time you would imagine someone holding you in their arms, a certain tall blonde guy with glasses plopped up in your mind.

It never occurred to you that you could be in love with one of your best friends and even then, it had to be Tsukishima? Since the day he was there for you when you broke into tears you could feel how something inside of you was changing. You were more aware of his presence and sometimes catched yourself staring at his soft features for what felt like forever. However, you were so sick of losing people and you would never want to lose Tsukishima as a friend, so you did the only thing that came into your mind. You denied your feelings. Though, over time it only got harder for you to run from your emotions, they just kept on getting stronger and you longed even more for his touch.

Slowly it got out of hand and you also started to avoid him, but never think that Tsukki wouldn’t catch up on your little changes. He saw how you tried to put more distance between you two and how you would start to panic when his eyes catched yours. It irritated him to no end because he didn’t understand why you acted so stupidly, so he just took the matter into his own hands.

Yeah, I'm sick of losing soulmates, won't be alone again I can finally see, you're as fucked up as me So how do we win?

One day he had enough of your antics and he cornered you at your locker after your courses ended. You remember how he looked so annoyed and frustrated when he asked you about your suspicious behaviour. You weren’t sure if he had noticed but of course he had to expose you like that. Your face was a blushing mess and you really tried to deny everything he dished out. He blocked you when you tried to flee the scene and he was so close you could smell the faint scent of strawberries again. It was so embarrassing but somehow he got you to stutter out a confession that you tried to escape from the past few weeks.

You didn’t want to lose him as a friend, you didn’t want to be alone again. Still, it was exhausting to avoid him all of the time and you started to feel lonely without his usual teasing. Tsukishima was surprised by your sudden confession but then he gave you a light slap on the back of your head. A whine left your lips and you wanted to complain, though you were cut off by him calling you an idiot.

“And that was the reason you were stupidly ducking your head down, whenever I catched you looking at me?”, his lips held his typical smirk but you could see a faint blush on his cheeks. His hand grabbed your wrist just like back then and tucked you into his chest. You two were just standing there, in the middle of the hallway and embraced each other.

“I like you too, idiot.”

We will grow old as friends, I've promised that before so what's one more In our grey-haired circle, waiting for the end?

You and him have been together since that day, which was now five years ago. You two were living with each other in an apartment and it felt like nothing has changed. He was still making fun of you every chance he got but you’re also the only person who could see him in his vulnerable and soft state.

Back in the days of your toxic relationship you could’ve never imagined yourself being as happy as you are right now. You got into the career you wanted, had an independent life and all of it you could share with your fantastic boyfriend. Back then you couldn’t dream about tomorrow because there was no use for it when you were caged inside that horrible relationship. Today though, was a different story. With Tsukishima by your side you could even imagine the bright future with him as your husband and one or two children around you two. You could hope for what was going to come and the thought of tomorrow would cast a smile on your lips.

Time and hearts will wear us thin So which path will you take, 'cause we both know a break Does exactly what it says on the tin Sure, nothing can be certain in life and you won’t be able to predict the future. What was now your own little paradise could turn into a nightmare by the end of the dawn. Even though there is a chance that you could be wrong about the two of you, it didn’t matter to you anymore. He was the one who held you up when you couldn’t stand on your own and he still was. He still was your save space, where you could let yourself fall and be sure of him catching you. It didn’t matter that there were statistics about how often relationships and especially marriages fail nowadays. You just wanted to think about how there was a chance of you two spending the rest of your life together.

I won't take no for an answer

And that is why you found yourself on one knee in front of your boyfriend of five years, in the living room where you two just finished your weekly documentary friday. You two were clothed in your loungewear, pillows and blankets scattered around the floor and in your hand a simple silver ring with the initials of the two of you engraved on the inside of it.

“Tsukishima Kei, you made me by far the happiest girl on earth for being my boyfriend for the last five years. You gave me so many reasons to believe in this relationship and made me feel like you and I could take on the world if we wanted to. You are my best friend, boyfriend and my soulmate. I used to believe that eventually every person would leave me, it would only be a matter of time. But with you, I dare myself to hope for a bright and fulfilling future that is waiting. I dare myself to hope that this could last against all the odds. I believe that you, my soulmate, are someone I won’t lose on the way to my dream. As I said, you made myself very, very happy back then. And today you could make me even happier with this promise of a future together.”

Without a word Tsukishima slid down from the couch and took your kneeling form into his arms. You closed your eyes and breathed in the familiar scent, your arms circling around his waist while a content smile settled on your lips.

“Of course I’ll say yes...idiot.”

#tsukishima x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima kei #kei x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima imagine

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hopeworldfan · 5 years ago

Text

friends-with-benefits

summary: jungkook had a reputation and you were curious if he lived up to it.

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 10k+

genre: fluff, smut, angst, college!au

warning: smut, deepthroating, cunnilingus, dirty talk, jungkook is a dumbass, reader is a dumbass, i don’t understand body shots

Parties were never really your thing. They were loud, full of sweaty people, and almost everyone was drunk as fuck. The fact that you weren’t popular enough to get invited to any in high school had nothing to do with it. When college rolled around you didn’t have any plans to fall into the partying stereotype. You were going to keep your head down and focus on your studies, and you were never good at making friends so you doubted you would be getting invited to any wild parties anyway.

What you weren’t expecting to happen was for the girl who responded to your post on the university website about needing a roommate to end up being the exact opposite of what you were. Rose was amazing, everything every little girl dreamed of being; smart, funny, drop-dead gorgeous, and on the fast track to being the captain of the cheer squad her senior year. Typical stereotypes would peg her as being a stone-cold bitch, but she was honestly one of the nicest people you had ever fucking met. The two of you had very complementary personalities and it didn’t take long for the two of you to become best friends.

As Rose’s best friend, you were invited to parties by association, and she always made sure you went. At first, you were hesitant. You didn’t want to go and end up standing in a corner with a cup of warm beer you weren’t going to drink, but Rose always made sure you had a fantastic time. She introduced you to all of her friends and they all thought you were adorable and funny as fuck, so you fell in with the –quote, unquote- cool kids.

It was so new, a complete one-eighty to what high school had been like for you. People knew who you were, they went out of their way to talk to you. For the first time, you didn’t dread group projects because no matter what class you were in, you had people who wanted to be in a group with you. Your confidence had literally never been higher.

Yet, you were still single. Yeah, you were funny, and so many people loved you, but it was Rose that everyone wanted. Not that you blamed them because she was hands down the hottest person you had ever seen. You thought people like Rose only existed in magazines. Besides, you liked being single anyway. There was no drama, no heartbreak, you liked it that way.

“C’mon (y/n), let’s do body shots!” Rose suddenly shouted, and a cheer went up around the frat house you were currently in.

“Fuck yes!” You shouted back with a giant grin, letting your best friend drag you along. You’d never had much shame, to begin with, plus you had enough alcohol running through your veins to throw all caution to the wind.

The table was quickly cleared when you arrived, and Rose was the first to jump on. She had a long line of willing volunteers to no one’s surprise. One boy made his way to the front and you grinned when you saw who it was.

“Joonie!” She cheered. Namjoon was the frat leader and Rose’s not boyfriend slash boyfriend. She claimed they weren’t dating, that she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, but you saw the way they looked at each other, and you heard their kinky ass sex through the paper-thin walls of your shared apartment.

“Heard you were doing body shots, so I had to be the first in line.” He grinned and flashed a smile your way before turning his attention back to Rose. You really liked Namjoon, he was probably the sweetest guy you had ever met. He wasn’t at all what you expected of a frat leader. Whenever he was at your apartment, he’d make conversation with you, he’d approach you if he saw you on campus, and often times he’d invite you out when him and Rose were doing something. Plus he was probably one of the smartest people you had ever met and you would not have passed statistics without his help.

Almost too soon Namjoon was done with Rose and it was your turn to hop up on the table. Though you weren’t as popular as your friend, college boys weren’t picky, so you weren’t worried about no one lining up for you. However, you couldn’t mask your surprise when you looked up and saw Jeon Jungkook standing in front of you, his signature confident smirk on his face.

You knew who Jungkook was, you’d have to be stupid not to. Everyone knew who Jungkook was; a member of Namjoon’s frat, arguably one of the hottest guys on campus, and a complete fuckboy. A few of Rose’s friends loved to talk about how great he was in bed; you’d heard all the details surrounding the hookups. You had to admit, you were curious, and it had been so long since you’d been fucked, and he was standing in front of you looking like sex on a stick.

You’re not sure where the sudden confidence came from, either from the alcohol running through your veins or from the smirk on Jungkook’s face but you grabbed one of the nearby shot glasses and poured the tequila, stuck your fingers in the glass and make a streak down the side of your neck, sprinkled the salt, and nestled the shot glass right between your cleavage.

Someone handed you the slice of lime and you didn’t hesitate before putting it in your mouth, meeting Jungkook’s heated gaze and raising one of your eyebrows while the crowd around cheered and whistled. He stalked towards you, gripping your thighs and forcing them apart so he could slide in between your legs. The noise from the onlooking crowd only increased and you couldn’t help the blush that crept along your cheeks.

Jungkook didn’t say a word, just keeping that confident smirk on his face as he leaned down towards your neck. Your heartbeat increased and it took everything in you to silence the moan that wanted to slip out when you felt his tongue slowly lick up the side of your neck, going far past where the salt started and ended. He pulled back and dropped his head to your cleavage, grabbing the shot glass was with his mouth and tossing his head back. You watched in awe, admiring just how fucking hot he was.

He slammed the shot glass down next to you and his intense gaze caused a bolt of excitement to run through you. His hands crept further up your thighs and his face inched closer and closer to yours and your breath hitched when he finally grabbed the lime from your mouth. Your lips brushed against his and disappointment coursed through you when he pulled back, sucking the juice from the lime before tossing it.

You were just about to jump down from the table when Jungkook slid back between your legs. “Where do you think you’re going?”

The words were out of your mouth before you even had time to consider if it was a good idea or not. They didn’t call alcohol ‘liquid courage’ for nothing. “To your bedroom ideally.”

For the first time since your encounter began, the confident smirk slipped from his face and embarrassment flooded through you. He was looking at you with wide eyes, obvious surprised by your suggestion. It was a horrible idea; he probably had a dozen girls much prettier than you lined up to sleep with him. Of course, he wouldn’t choose you.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to let you down.” He finally said with a cheeky smile, nothing like his confident smirk from earlier. Before you could formulate a response, he hooked his arms under your thighs, lifting you from the table. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and tightened your legs around his waist to keep yourself from hitting the floor.

The shouts and cheers from the crowd were deafening as he began carrying you to what you assumed was his room.

“I’m perfectly capable of walking.” You protested somewhat weakly because holy shit you could feel his muscles rippling underneath the thin cotton of his shirt and that was hot at fuck.

He chuckled in response. “You won’t be tomorrow; I’m just getting you used to it.”

A bolt of arousal shot through you at his promise. You never would have imagined this was where your night was going to go, but you were happily along for what was looking to be an exciting ride.

Jungkook shouldered open the door and effortlessly locked it before taking the last couple steps to his bed and putting you down with a gentleness you weren’t expecting. Your eyes had just started to wander around his room when his lips were suddenly against yours and all hope of rational thought was out of the window because his lips were so much softer than you expected and felt so good against yours.

His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, wordlessly asking permission and you all too happily gave it to him. You moaned into his mouth when he deepened the kiss and he pulled back with an airy chuckle.

“That’s a sound I can’t wait to hear more of.” You couldn’t fight the blush that spread across your cheeks and his lips were back on yours in the next instant. His hands tugged at the hem of your shirt and you broke away from each other, only for a moment so he could pull the fabric over your head and carelessly toss it. There wasn’t time to feel self-conscious before his lips were trailing down your jaw, moving down to your neck, leaving hot kisses in his wake. He stopped at the base of your neck to pay a little extra attention and you mewled when he found a sweet spot. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot.”

You were practically preening at the complimented. It did wonders for your self-confidence to have a guy as hot as Jungkook think you were attractive.

“Are you going to spend all night kissing my neck or are you going to fuck me?” You asked because while the kisses were nice, you were so fucking horny and just wanted the godlike boy to fuck you so hard you couldn’t walk the next day like he promised. While you appreciated the foreplay, you were already soaked.

Jungkook growled which only fueled your arousal. “Someone’s eager.”

“Just wanna see if the great Jeon Jungkook lives up to the hype.” He paused for a second before throwing his head back and laughing.

“You really are something else (y/n),” He commented before reaching behind your back and deafly unhooking your bra with one hand. That shouldn’t have been as hot as you found it. “And don’t worry, I do.”

He stood up to finally dispose of his clothes and you shamelessly stared. You’d seen him shirtless before but had never wanted to ogle. Now, you had every excuse to ogle and you were taking the opportunity and running with it because holy fuck. It should have been illegal to look that fucking good. He caught you staring and confidently smirked. “See something you like?”

“I guess you could say that.” You replied immediately with a shrug of your shoulders, slipping your bra off and tossing it to the side before doing the same with your shorts and panties. You were thanking every god in existence you had taken the time to shave last night.

“Good, because so do I,” Jungkook said darkly, eyes drinking in your naked form. What you didn’t know was that he’d had his eyes on you for a while now. You were always at the same parties, hung around the same people, and he couldn’t help being drawn to your presence. There was just something about you, something about the way you always had a smile on your face, the way your nose scrunched up when you laughed, just, the way you were you. He’d wanted to get to know you, but you were Rose’s friend and he had a less than savory reputation, which meant Namjoon had explicitly warned him not to fuck with you when he had been caught staring one time.

Jungkook respected his leader, and he knew you were too good for someone like him anyway, but then you showed up at the party looking hot as fuck and when he heard you were doing body shots…well, he physically could not stop himself. He wasn’t expecting you to be so confident, you had always seemed a little on the shy side and maybe it was only because you had alcohol running through your veins, but fuck, it only made him want you more. However, he still wasn’t planning on doing anything else other than maybe ask for your number, but then you were the one to suggest heading to his room and all of his self-control was out of the window.

Besides, this wasn’t going to be like with all the other girls he brought to his room. That was all just fun and games, him living up the college experience. It was different with you. Yeah, he wanted to fuck you, but it went beyond that. He wanted to get to know you, to hang out with your clothes still on, and sure things were backward as fuck now, but he wasn’t going to pass up the chance to sleep with you. He wasn’t an idiot.

“Fuck.” You breathed when Jungkook stepped out of his boxers and you finally saw his cock. It was big, of course, it was. Unease settled in the pit of your stomach, coupled with excitement which just left you feeling confused.

“You think you could take my cock, baby?” He grinned, wrapping one hand around his length and giving it a few pumps. You shivered when he moaned. Could you take it? You had no idea. Were you going to give it your fucking all though? Hell yes.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” You said, a bit nervously when he joined you on the bed, having already slipped a condom on. He spread your legs wide, positioning himself right at your entrance. Unease and excitement shot through you again.

Should you tell him?

Did it make a difference?

Would this really be that different from all your other times?

Uh-” You started nervously and Jungkook immediately paused, meeting your eyes with a confused look. “I feel like I need to disclose something first.”

“Are you a virgin?” He asked immediately, eyes wide and you chuckled.

“Not technically?” You supplied with a sheepish smile, suddenly feeling the most embarrassed you had the entire night. Jungkook just raised an eyebrow at you and you sighed. “Um, well, I’ve never actually had sex with a guy before.”

“So, you’re a virgin.” He said simply and you shook your head.

“I mean, honestly, the whole concept of a ‘virgin’ is a scam in the first place because what really constitutes what a ‘virgin’ is in the first place?” You were rambling, you knew you were rambling. His cock was literally inches away from your pussy and you were rambling. That sounded about right, you needed to get to your point. “I’ve had sex with girls before, I’ve been fucked with strap on’s before, but never uhh the real thing, and you’re bigger than any of the straps I’ve been fucked with.”

You watched as Jungkook fully comprehended what you just said. The blank look on his face morphing from shock to curiosity, to surprise, before finally settling on a darker look that fed your arousal.

“I really didn’t think you could get any fucking hotter, but you proved me wrong.” Because the image of you being fucked by another girl with a strap on was just about the hottest thing Jungkook could have ever imagined.

“So yeah, uh, no pressure or anything but you’re representing the entire male population here.” You commented and Jungkook laughed before sliding his hands up your thighs. Goosebumps spread across your skin and your breath hitched when you grabbed the base of his cock and rubbed the head against your slick entrance.

“I think I can handle that.” He smirked before his expression morphed into something softer. “Just let me know if you’re ever uncomfortable and I’ll stop.”

You nodded once and tried your best to relax when he started to slowly push into you.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” He hissed as your walls expanded to accommodate his size. You fisted the sheets and instinctively arched your back at the intrusion. It wasn’t painful, just mildly uncomfortable, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

You hadn’t even realized you closed your eyes until you felt a gentle kiss on your forehead and your eyes shot open. You hadn’t even realized Jungkook had shifted to where he was hovering only a few inches away from you. The concern on his face made your heart flutter. You were expecting a quick fuck, not for him to actually care.

“Are you okay?” He murmured and your heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t the fuckboy shit you signed up for.

“Yeah,” You replied immediately. “You’re just…really big.”

He dropped his head to where it was resting in the crook of your neck and you felt his whole-body shudder. “Fuck.”

You knew he was probably using every ounce of self-control to restrain himself. He continued slowly sheathing himself inside of you, careful not to make any sudden movements. His breath was hot against the base of your neck and you shivered when he moaned, finally bottoming out.

He was without a doubt, bigger than any of the straps you had been fucked with. You didn’t think you had ever had anyone reach of deep as he was. He rolled his hips the slightest bit and your right hand shot up to grip his bicep. The bitch felt rock solid and you didn’t think you could get any more turned on but holy fuck.

“Shit I’m sorry, did that hurt?” He asked immediately, raising his head to meet your eyes. A blush coated your cheeks.

“Quite the contrary, just fuck me already Jungkook.” You purred, stomach twisting in excitement when you saw how dark his eyes got.

“You got it baby girl.” You gasped when you completely pulled out of you and the sound became strangled when he roughly thrust back in. “Fuck (y/n), you feel so fucking good.”

You physically could not form words when he began harshly thrusting into you. The only thing you could do was throw your arms around his toned shoulders and hold on for dear fucking life. He hissed as your nails dug into his skin, scratching down the wide expanse of his back.

“Do you like that? Do you like the way I’m fucking you?” He breathed, his breath hot against your ear. You should have known he would be into dirty talk, good thing that so were you.

“Fuck yes, oh god, I love the way your big cock feels in my pussy, the first real cock I’ve ever had.” You panted, shivering at the way Jungkook was moaning in your ear. There had never been a more erotic sound.

“You’re so filthy (y/n), what a dirty girl.” You mewled as his thrusts became shorter and more intense.

“Oh fuck.” You wouldn’t last much longer, you were surprised you had lasted as long as you did considering how long it had been since you’d been fucked so good. Jungkook was certainly living up to his reputation.

“Are you going to cum for me, baby? You going to cum all over my thick cock?” He groaned, feeling your walls tightening around him. Getting you to your peak before he let himself cum was so much harder than he thought it would be. You just felt so fucking good, and that coupled with the sounds you were making made it exceedingly difficult.

“I’m going to cum oh my god, oh fuck Jungkook.” You babbled, on the verge of nonsensical. In the back of your mind, you were baffled that you were about to cum strictly from vaginal stimulation, that had never happened before. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip to keep from crying out when your orgasm hit you, trying to remember that you were in a frat house and there were rooms on either side of you.

“Oh fuck (y/n).” Jungkook groaned when your walls clamped down on his cock. He only managed a few more pumps before burying himself in you and letting his own orgasm wash over him. The two of you lay there for a few minutes, a thin layer of sweat coating your naked bodies as you tried to catch your breath.

“Well, you’ve definitely done your brethren justice.” You finally said with a playful grin, needing to say something lest you feel awkward as fuck. Jungkook lifted his head from where it was resting in the crook of your neck and laughed, a sound that caused butterflies to stir in your belly. He was so cute when he laughed.

“I’m glad.” He smiled before bringing his face down to yours and placing a gentle kiss against your lips. It took you by surprise. It was soft and tender and not something you expected from the infamous fuckboy. Maybe he had a soft side post orgasm. Whatever, you weren’t complaining.

With a content sigh, Jungkook pulled back from you and rolled to his side, getting up and disposing of the condom. You admired the way the muscles on his back flexed with every movement he made. Damn, you really fucked that greek god of a man. Go you.

Despite your fatigue, you knew that typical one-night stand rules meant you didn’t spend the night, so you swung your legs over the side of the bed and tried to get to your feet. Tried being the keyword because your legs felt like fucking noodles and you immediately fell back onto the bed. Jungkook’s laugh rang through the room and a blush colored your cheeks.

“I did warn you.” He teased and you shot him a playful glare. “Where are you going off to anyway?”

You merely blinked at how owlishly. “Uhh, home?”

He tilted his head in confusion. “You can spend the night here, it’s super late and not safe in the slightest for you to head home now.”

Wow, he really was crushing all the fuckboy stereotypes you had about him. “Oh, okay. Well, I still have to get up so I can go to the bathroom.”

Jungkook nodded once before slipping on a pair of basketball shorts and grabbing a shirt and a pair of shorts from his dresser and tossing them at you. “Put that on and I’ll walk you the bathroom.”

You could have argued, but you really didn’t feel like squeezing back into your party clothes, so you just complied. The shirt fit loose around your body and you had to tie the shorts tight to keep them from falling. “You don’t have to walk me to the bathroom, I can make it myself.”

“One, you can barely stand up right now, and two, I’m not letting you wander out when there’s a bunch of drunk guys around.” Your heart did a little flip flop at his words and you just sighed because those were both excellent points. The second attempt at getting to your feet went better, though your legs trembled a bit with every step you took. Jungkook just had a very arrogant smirk on his face as he watched you walk like a newborn dear. That stroked his ego.

He wrapped one of his around your shoulders and led you to the bathroom. The music from downstairs was still going strong and you passed more than a few couples making out in the hallway. You were glad you didn’t see anyone you knew because it was pretty obvious what just happened by the marks littering your neck and the fact that a shirtless Jungkook had his arm around your shoulders.

He stood guard when you went into the bathroom to pee –because fuck UTI’s- and you grimaced when you got a good look at yourself in the mirror. That boy really showed no mercy to your neck. There was no way you could hide the plethora of hickeys. Everyone was going to know you got fucked. Oh well.

Jungkook grinned when you walked out and happily escorted you back to his room. You shimmied off his shorts and the two of you slid into his bed. It wasn’t how you had expected your night to end. You were going to have so much to tell Rose tomorrow.

“Why are you on the opposite side of the bed?” Jungkook laughed and you blushed again. Because you didn’t know what the fuck was going on anymore.

“Well, where am I supposed to be?” You asked a bit haughtily, turning to face him.

“In my arms?” He suggested, loving the way red colored your cheeks. His arms were opened wide and you shyly scooted closer to his side. He wrapped his arms around you, and you settled against his form. The arrangement was surprisingly comfortable. The fatigue from the day finally hit you and you felt yourself drifting off.

As if sensing you were about to fall asleep, Jungkook placed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Goodnight beautiful.”

“G’night.” You mumbled before drifting off.

You slipped into consciousness slowly, confused about your unfamiliar surroundings before you felt a pair of arms wrapped around your form and you remembered the events from the night before. Sunlight was beginning to peak through the curtains, and you craned your neck to see Jungkook’s sleeping face.

He looked so fucking cute. That had to be illegal. There was no trace of the guy who gave you perhaps the best orgasm of your life. Your heart skipped a beat and you mentally berated yourself. Down girl, you couldn’t go catch feelings for THE Jeon Jungkook. The two of you had a fantastic night, you had to take it and go.

As carefully as you could, you extracted yourself from Jungkook’s hold, not an easy task since he was holding onto you for dear life. You tiptoed around the room, grabbing your things and checking your phone, seeing a few texts from Rose. Hopefully, she didn’t think you were murdered last night.

Luckily, it was about six in the morning so you hoped you wouldn’t run into any of the guys as you snuck out, even though you were sure they were used to girls sneaking out. You spared one last look at Jungkook, noticing the way how his face had scrunched up as he patted the now empty side of his bed. With a sigh, you opened the door and made sure to quietly close it before making your escape.

“(y/n)?”

You squeaked before whipping around, clutching your belongings to your chest. “Fuck Namjoon, you scared me!”

“What are you doing here?” He asked and you watched as his eyes traced your form, taking in your too big attire, the marks on your neck, and then taking in the door of the room you had just came out of.

“Uhh.” Was all you could manage.

“He’s kicking you out this early? I’ll talk to him, don’t worry.” Namjoon said and you could see the way his jaw clenched.

“Wait, no no no,” You started with a nervous laugh. “He didn’t kick me out, I just figured I should leave before things get awkward. I would have left last night but he didn’t want me leaving so late so here we are.”

Namjoon was silent for a beat as he comprehended what you said before sighing. “If you say so. Look, Jungkook is a little brother to me, but I know how he is. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

You were touched that Namjoon actually cared so much about you. Rose really needed to cuff that man. “I appreciate the concern Namjoon, but I know what I’m doing. I can take care of myself.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder and smiled down at you. “If you say so. Well, Rose is in my room and I was about to drive her home so you could tag along.”

“Perfect.” You grinned.

Rose managed to keep her questions to herself until the two of you were back inside your shared apartment. She had practically been vibrating the whole drive home.

“(y/n)!” She squealed the minute the door shut. “You fucked Jungkook?!”

You laughed sheepishly, bring a hand up to rub the back of your neck. “Is it that obvious?”

“Bitch! Anybody with two eyes could see you got fucked last night when you add that a whole house party saw him literally carry you to his room…yes it’s that obvious!”

Oh yeah, you forgot about the very public sweeping you off your feet. “Well, uhh, yeah.”

Rose squealed again, grabbing your hands and pulling you onto the couch. “Tell me everything! Was he really as good as all the girls say he is?”

“Oh my god,” You groaned, throwing your head back to rest on the couch. “Rose, he’s even better. Hands down the best sex I have ever had, and I’ve had some pretty good sex.”

“Ugh, I’m so happy for you! Just be careful, I don’t want you getting attached and getting hurt.” She said, concern clear on her face.

“Don’t worry Rose, I know it was just sex, I know how it works. You know, Namjoon was worried about it too, he’s really sweet.” You watched the blush coat Rose’s cheeks and the dreamy look in her eye at the mention of Namjoon.

“I know. He’s great in bed too.”

You just shook your head. “He really wasn’t what I was expecting though.”

Rose cocked her head in interest. “What do you mean?”

“Like, he was sweet. Not that I was expecting him to be an asshole or anything, but the way he kissed me when all was said and done took me by surprise and he was super cuddly. It was wild.”

Your friend’s forehead scrunched in confusion. “Wait wait wait, back up. He kissed you after sex? And hold up, you were there this morning, so you spent the night?”

Your expression mirrored hers at how baffled she sounded. “Uhh yeah. He kinds insisted I stay the night.”

“And you just slept? No round two? Or three?”

“No, we just slept.”

“Huh,” Rose said after a minute, “From what I’ve heard from other girls, for one he doesn’t kiss after sex, and I’ve definitely never heard of girls spending the night just to sleep.”

“Huh, I dunno. Maybe he just didn’t want Namjoon to be mad at him since I’m your friend. It’s whatever, we had a great time, I’m satisfied.” You replied with a shrug. Rose still looked like she was thinking, but you couldn’t let yourself dwell on it. It was just sex; you couldn’t get your hopes up.

Jungkook was confused when he woke up alone, but just figured you had plans or something, even if he would have preferred to wake up with you in his arms. He’d just slid out of bed when his door swung open and Namjoon stormed in. Uh oh.

“I asked one thing of you Jungkook, asked you to stay away from one girl on campus.” He started, arms crossed and staring down the younger boy.

“It’s not like that hyung!” He defended.

“Then tell me what it’s like.”

“I like her.” He admitted, red tinting his face as he stared at the ground. “Yeah things are a little backwards right now, but the sex was her idea and I wasn’t going to say no!”

“You like her?” Namjoon repeated, finding it hard to believe. For as long as he’d known the younger boy, his serious relationships had been far and in-between, not to mention short.

“Yeah,” He replied. “This isn’t what I do with the other girls. I want to get to know her better.”

Namjoon sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Fine, I’ll believe you, but I swear to god Jungkook if I find out you’re pulling some fuck shit on (y/n) I’m going to beat your ass, and not just because of Rose. I like her, she’s a sweet girl.”

“I promise hyung.” Jungkook stressed and Namjoon sighed again before leaving.

By the time Monday rolled around, you felt ready to conquer the world. It was funny how getting dicked down so good could do that to you. Your skin was clear, your crops thriving, you were ready to face anything the world was going to throw at you.

“(y/n)!” An all too familiar voice shouted, halting your walk across campus. You whipped around immediately, and your eyes widened when you saw Jungkook striding towards you, a giant grin on his face.

Okay, maybe you weren’t ready for anything? Because this you weren’t ready for.

“Oh, hey Jungkook.” You smiled, still confused. Was this normal? You were fully prepared to never talk to Jungkook again, not wanting to seem stupid for thinking that the sex meant something.

“You left so early the other morning. I had wanted to get your number.” He admitted, looking slightly sheepish. It was entirely different fromthe confident guy from the other night. It was endearing.

“My number?” You parroted, still feeling like you were in an alternate reality. Why would Jeon Jungkook want your number?

He chuckled and your heart fluttered. “Uhm yeah. How else am I supposed to contact you?”

Duh. How else was he supposed to contact you? That made perfect sense.

…

Nope, you were still baffled. However, you gave him your number because it would have been foolish to say no. “Great! Uhm, I’ll text you later?”

He was staring down at you with those dark brown eyes and you felt your mouth go dry. What was happening? What universe did you stumble into? This wasn’t what you signed up for.

“Uhh yeah.”

Things only got weirder when he actually texted you like ten minutes later. He had wanted to wait longer than that but physically could not stop himself because he just wanted to talk to you immediately. You were surprised to find that you really liked talking to Jungkook. He was funny and seemed genuinely interested in your thoughts and ideas.

However, in the back of your mind you had to keep reminding yourself that he was a fuckboy! You didn’t know what his aim was but catching feelings would only end up with your being hurt, you were sure of it.

That didn’t stop you from talking to him though because you were a dumb bitch who loved getting her hopes up.

Friends what benefits. That’s the label that made the most sense for you because, after a few days of texting and a few hours at the coffee shop, you were in a very familiar position that involved your legs in the air and Jungkook between them. Then a few days turned into a few weeks and suddenly three months had gone by.

“Fuck, yes, just like that.” Jungkook groaned, one of his hands fisted in your hair and you took his cock down your throat. There were tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, but you fought to keep your throat relaxed as your nose was buried in his carefully trimmed pubic hair. You were thanking that one ex-girlfriend who had a thing for seeing you deepthroat her strap because you had a lot of experience in this area.

However, you were still struggling more than you would have liked to due to his size and you had to pull back a minute later before you started choking.

“You’re fucking amazing.” Jungkook sighed, helping you to your feet and crashing his lips against yours. “Lay down so I can return the favor.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice; you were already dripping from blowing him and were curious to see just how talented he was with his tongue.

“Fuck you’re so wet and I haven’t even touched you.” He observed and you blushed.

“It’s your fault, so get down there and deal with the consequences.”

“Yes , ma’am.” He grinned before doing a fake salute and lowering his head to place gentle kisses to your inner thighs. You sighed contently, it had been so long since you’d been eaten out and you had a suspicion that Jungkook would be exceptionally good at it. “My favorite meal of the day.”

A sarcastic reply was on your lips, but it dissipated when he flattened his tongue and licked up the entirety of your slit, doing circles around your clit when he reached it.

“Oh, fuck Jungkook.” You shuddered and you heard him chuckle before diving right back in. That man was talented with his tongue in a way that downright sinful. When he sucked on your clit you bucked up against him and he brought his hands to your hips, pinning you to the bed.

“Don’t worry baby, you’re going to ride my face one day, but not today.” He promised and you groaned, throwing your head back against your pillows. “Your pussy tastes so good, the sweetest treat I’ve ever had.”

You mewled at the compliment, bringing your hands to your chest and tweaking your nipples as his tongue worked wonders. His teeth gently grazed against your clit and your whole body trembled. One of his fingers slipped into you and you moaned loudly, not caring that you didn’t know if Rose was home or not. Jungkook’s pace only increased at your reaction and he slipped a second finger in.

“Oh my god.” You cried out, feeling the pressure building.

“Are you going to cum (y/n), cum all over my face?” He prompted, raising his head to look at your trembling form. It took everything in him not to cum right then and there, just from getting you off.

“Yes, oh fuck Jungkook, I’m going to cum.” You were so close, so fucking close. Jungkook knew it was almost there and he toyed with the idea of edging you. It was something he wanted to see, you begging for release, crying because of how bad you wanted to cum. One look at the fucked out look on your face and he decided to save that for another day.

Your release hit you hard and you couldn’t do more than gasp at the intensity of it. Jungkook didn’t stop either, making sure to squeeze out every last bit of pleasure before lifting his head and grinning at you. He licked his lips and you shivered when he brought his hand to his mouth and licked his fingers clean.

He moved between your legs to hover over your, bringing his lips down to yours and you moaned into the kiss, the mix of his saliva and your pussy tasting way too fucking good. You stayed like that for a few minutes, letting your sensitivity fade a bit. You appreciated the thought even if you did like toying with overstimulation sometimes, that was a conversation for a different time.

You both moaned when he finally pushed into you, easily sliding in since you were still soaked from your orgasm.

“You take my cock so well baby.” Jungkook praised and you clenched around his cock, he immediately noticed, and a shit-eating grin was plastered across his face. “Do you have a praise kink (y/n)?”

“Oh my god can you just fuck me?” You asked, trying to deflect the question because the answer was a giant ‘yes’.

Luckily Jungkook complied, pulling out almost all the way before thrusting back in. This time was different from the first time, maybe because he had a better idea of what you could handle, maybe because you were more comfortable around each other, maybe because neither of you had been drinking, either way, it was somehow even better. Something you hadn’t thought was possible.

You didn’t stay in missionary for long this time and you weren’t complaining because the way Jungkook was hitting it from the back had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He was hitting even deeper than before and you hadn’t even thought that was possible. His grip was tight around your hips and you were certain there would be bruises tomorrow which only turned you on even more.

“Fuck yes baby, you take my cock so well, your pussy was made for my cock.” He growled, roughly slamming into you.

“You fuck me so good Jungkook, never been fucked this good before.” You panted, sweat dripping down your forehead.

“I’m the only one who can make you feel this good, no one else can fuck you like this.” His thrusts were starting to become uneven and you knew that meant he was getting close. So were you, but it wasn’t until one of his hands moved to your clit that you felt your second orgasm of the night really start to build. “Cum for me (y/n), be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

That was all it took for you to reach your peak. You collapsed against your pillow, keeping your ass in the air as Jungkook pounded into you, thrusts short and intense.

“Fuck, can I cum on your back?”

“Please do.”

He pulled out of you and you heard the lewd sound of his hand moving up and down on his cock. You craned your neck to watch as his finished himself off, and the look on his face when he finally came was one of the most beautiful things you had ever seen. Streams of cum hit your back and you shivered.

Jungkook sighed contently, pausing for a minute to take in the sight of you, naked, ass in the air, pussy still glistening, and his cum painted on your back. He wanted to engrave it in his memory.

“Towels are in the second drawer in the bathroom.” You offered, the novelty of having cum on your back quickly fading. Yeah ,it was hot having him cum on you, but that didn’t change the fact that you thought cum was gross. You knew some girls thought it was hot, but that was not you.

“Oh shit, yeah, be right back.”

“Hey Jungkook.” You heard Rose greet when he walked out of your room and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, uhm, hey.” He replied awkwardly and you laughed again. You heard your door close and sighed thankfully when he wiped his cum off with a wet towel. “Do you think she heard us?”

Finally, able to fully collapse on your bed, you did so with a happy sigh. “Oh definitely, these walls are paper thin.”

You turned your head to see Jungkook looking the slightest bit sheepish. “Believe me Jungkook, she deserves it. I’ve had to listen to her and Namjoon’s kinky ass sex more times than I can count.”

He laughed at that and your stomach flipped. You liked his laugh.

“You should have said something; I could have had you really screaming.” You instinctively squeezed your thighs together.

“Is that a promise?” You asked innocently and saw the way his eyes darkened.

“Wanna find out?”

The breathy ‘yes’ was barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours.

Jungkook didn’t leave until the next morning and you were sitting at the dining room table, a cup of coffee in your hand and a peaceful smile on your face.

“Okay, we’re having an intervention,” Rose said seriously, plopping down across from you with a serious look on your face.

“What are you talking about Rose?” You laughed, the smile slipping when you saw that she wasn’t joking.

“What is going on with you and Jungkook? And don’t give me that friends-with-benefits bullshit.”

“But that’s what we are.” You defended and your best friend threw her hands up in the air.

“No, you’re not (y/n). Friends-with-benefits don’t do the shit that you two do, they don’t go on dates, they don’t bring you flowers, they don’t cuddle and watch movies.”

“They’re not dates.” You weakly protested because, in the back of your mind, you knew that. You knew that wasn’t normal friends-with-benefits activities, but that was the only way you could think to label what you and Jungkook had.

“Babe,” Rose said softly, the frustration fading to concern. “You’re in love with him, I can see it clear as day.”

And there it was. The thing you had been vehemently denying every time your heart fluttered or you thought about just how nice his lips were. Tears began streaming down your face before you could stop them, and Rose jumped up.

“Wait! Don’t cry! He loves you too you dummy!” She said frantically and your eyes shot up to meet hers.

“What are you talking about?” You sniffed.

“God you’re an idiot, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. That boy brings you flowers, takes you on dates, and didn’t you tell me he ate you out for thirty minutes straight the other day? Only stopping because you insisted?”

A blush coated your cheeks as you remembered the incident she referred to. “Okay? That doesn’t mean he’s in love with me.”

Rose sighed. “So Namjoon told me not to say anything but Jungkook told him that he liked you, and that was way back when you first slept together, and we were talking about it the other day and Joon said he hasn’t brought a girl home that wasn’t you since that night. I see the way he looks at you babe, he’s so whipped it’s ridiculous, he would do anything you asked him.”

You were reeling from your best friends’ words. That was impossible. There had to be some kind of explanation because there was no way someone like Jungkook would ever like someone like you. It was like Rose could read your mind and her expression softened. “(Y/N), why is it so hard for you to believe that Jungkook actually has feelings for you too? To the point that you wrote off everything the two of you did as ‘friendly’. When have we ever cuddled like that while watching movies?”

You looked down at the table, fiddling with your thumbs. “I just, Jungkook is really hot and super popular, and I’m just…me.”

“And you’re fucking amazing babe, really hot and super popular and the funniest person I’ve ever met. I’m pretty sure my friends like you more than they like me at this point. Look just…talk to him. Even if by some one in a million chance he says he doesn’t feel the same way, I know you have feelings for him and you can’t keep seeing him like this if he doesn’t feel the same because that’s not healthy. There’s a party at the frat house this weekend, please, talk to him.”

“Okay Rose, I will.” You promised; head still muddled.

You were the walking dead a few days later as you trudged across campus to your lecture. It was midterm time and you had been up literally all night studying for it. It was going on hour twenty-three of being awake and you had a full day ahead of you. You felt like shit.

“(y/n)!” It took your tired brain a second to register that someone was even calling your name, and another second to recognize the voice, but when you did your heart skipped a beat. When you turned around and saw Jungkook striding towards you, a cup of coffee in his hands and a smile on his face, your heart was ready to stop. Rose’s words were still running through your head and you couldn’t look the boy in the eyes, even when he was finally standing right in front of you.

“Hey Jungkook,” You greeted softly. It was too much, too early, and you were too tired. You didn’t want to have to think about how you were in love with the hot guy in front of you, not when you were already past the point of anything feeling real due to sleep deprivation. “What’s up?”

“Here, I figured you’d need this after all the studying you did last night. You’re on your way to your test right? I know you’re gonna kill it!”

Your eyes shot up, seeing the boyish smile on his face and the coffee he was offering in his outreached hand. He really wasn’t helping the whole ‘in love with him’ situation. “Oh my god, you didn’t have to do this.”

His smile only grew wider as he watched the blush color your cheeks. “I know, I did it because I wanted to. Take it, I got it just the way you liked it.”

You shyly took the coffee from his hands and took a little sip. He really did get it just the way you liked it. How did he even remember that? You’d only gotten coffee together like twice. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”

“You can show your appreciation by giving me a kiss.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. This wasn’t friends-with-benefits behavior, but you complied anyway because what were you going to do? Tell him no? So you reached up on your tiptoes and gently pressed your lips against his.

It was so different from your normal, lust-filled, passion-driven kisses. There was no smashing of lips, no heavy breathing, not bites and moans. It was soft, and tender, and made your whole chest feel warm. How did you not realize you were in love with him before because it was glaringly obvious now.

“You’re coming to the party on Saturday, right?” He asked when you pulled apart.

“Yeah, about that,” You started awkwardly. “I uhh, need to talk to you about something, maybe after the party? I have midterms all week so that’s the next time I’m free.”

He brought one hand to the side of your face and you instinctively leaned into his touch. You were fucking whipped. “Of course babe. Is something wrong?”

The genuine concern on his face took you by surprise. “No! Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okay.” He said with a gentle smile before lowering his face to yours and placing a gentle kiss to your lips. “One more for good luck. Now go show that test who’s boss.”

“Sir yes sir.” You smiled.

The party was in full swing by the time you and Rose arrived. She tried to stick by your side, but you shooed her away. You didn’t exactly want her on your hip when you talked to Jungkook. The whole situation would be embarrassing enough without having your best friend witness it.

It was surprisingly hard to find said boy. He was usually at the center of the party, but you couldn’t find hide nor hair of him.

“Hey (y/n)!” You whipped around, smiling when you saw Namjoon standing behind you.

“Hey Joon!” You greeted over the almost deafening music. “Have you seen Jungkook?”

The older boy seemed to think for a minute before answering. “I think he went grab something from his room.”

“Thanks!”

“See you later!”

You knew the way to Jungkook’s room like the back of your hand having been there so often lately. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute with the thought of just why you were seeking out the boy. This conversation was no something you wanted to have, but Rose was right, you were in love with him. If he didn’t feel the same way, continuing to sleep with him wouldn’t be healthy.

His door was cracked open when you approached it and you paused to collect yourself. After taking a deep breath, you reached forward to push open the door, but your movements froze when you heard a very much female voice coming from the room.

“C’mon Kook,” The voice giggled. “We always have fun together; I miss that cock of yours.”

What the fuck? You shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be listening to this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Besides, he could reject her advances, you couldn’t jump to conclusions just because of what she said.

“I said no Amber.” You exhaled softly, feeling some of the tension slip away. Okay, good thing you didn’t immediately jet out assuming the worst. “I have a girlfriend.”

Nope, you should have jetted out because this was so much worse. Right when you were about to back up and make your heartbroken escape, some drunk frat boy bumped into you, propelling you forward into the room.

“Shit.” You squeaked, landing on your knees.

“(Y/N)?” Your eyes shot up, meeting Jungkook equally surprised look. The girl, Amber or whatever, was standing incredibly close to him, one hand pressed firmly against his chest. That wasn’t what bothered you though, it was the fact that he had a girlfriend.

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. He had a girlfriend. What did that make you then? The side piece? Did she even know about you? The thought made you want to throw up.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” Jungkook shouted frantically when you scrambled to your feet and darted out of the room. You had to get away from him because you were going to cry, and that last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry.

Unfortunately, your legs were short and his were long, so you’d only made it a few steps before his hand was wrapped around your arm, halting your fleeing.

“Let go of me.” You said quietly, pathetically. It made you cringe; you didn’t want to sound pathetic. You wanted to sound angry, you wanted to be angry. To yell at him, to hit him, but all you felt was such a crushing sadness it felt like you were drowning.

“It wasn’t what it looked like babe.” He said desperately, begging you to believe him.

“Don’t call me that.” You shot back. “And let me go.”

“(Y/N) please, you have to believe me, I-”

“I said let go!” You shouted, louder that time and managing to draw the attention of a few people. You lifted your head, meeting his gaze and his grip on your arm loosened when he saw the tears beginning to stream down your face.

“Babe…” You took the opportunity to tear yourself from his grip and throw yourself into the crowd of people. There wasn’t any particular direction in your mind, you just had to get away, and that’s how ended up literally running into Namjoon.

“Whoa there, tiger.” He said jokingly, using his arms to steady you. The smile dropped from his face when he saw the tears trailing down your face. “(y/n), what’s wrong?”

“Can you take me home? Please. I want to go home.” You sobbed and he paused for a few seconds before nodding and scanning the crowd.

“Just, stay here for a few seconds, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.” He said and you nodded, wrapping your arms around yourself. He was back in a few seconds like promised, and your tears only started coming faster when Rose wrapped herself around you.

“Baby oh my god, what happened?”

“I just want to go home, please Rose.” You cried and she nodded, guiding you out of the frat house and into Namjoon’s car.

They were both quiet the whole way home, just letting you cry. Rose sat with you in the backseat, keeping you in her arms. They didn’t poke and prod about what happened even though you knew they both had to have some kind of an idea.

“(Y/N), what happened?” Rose asked softly as you curled up on the couch. She took a seat next to you and Namjoon stood nearby.

“I’m so fucking stupid.” You muttered, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes again. “He has a girlfriend.”

“What are you talking about?” Your best friend prompted.

“Jungkook, he has a girlfriend. Some girl was coming onto him and he rejected her, saying he has a girlfriend.” You buried your face in your arms, curling into an even tighter ball. The hand on your back stilled and you could feel the anger radiating from Rose.

“Joon. Outside. Now.” She barked and you watched the two of them leave the apartment. You’d never heard your best friend yell, you weren’t sure she was even capable of it, but she was so loud you could hear it from inside. Great, now you were fucking up her relationship.

Wiping the tears from your face, you got to your feet and migrated to your room, collapsing onto your bed and willing yourself to sleep, not wanting to have to face the real world anymore.

Jungkook was more stressed than he could remember. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, and seeing the way you looked at him, he knew that’s exactly what happened. But it was all just a misunderstanding! Amber was coming onto him, and he was rejecting her! You just came in at the wrong time and fuck, you just wouldn’t listen to him.

He’d been blowing up your phone with messages and calls, but you were ignoring him. How did things go so wrong so quickly? Things had been going so well between the two of you. He had just picked up his phone to call you for the umpteenth time when his bedroom door was slammed open and Namjoon stormed in.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?!” The older boy roared and Jungkook immediately took a step back. Namjoon didn’t anger easily, and he couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen him this angry.

“It’s a misunderstanding, hyung! Amber was coming on to me, but I rejected her!” Jungkook defended immediately, already knowing why his frat leader was so angry.

“That’s not the issue! You have a fucking girlfriend?! I told you not to pull any fuck shit with (y/n), stringing her along while you have a girlfriend qualifies as fuck shit! And who is this girl anyway? You haven’t brought anyone over but (y/n)?”

Jungkook’s mind was reeling. “Hyung, what are you talking about?”

“She heard you tell Amber you have a girlfriend!”

“(Y/N) is my girlfriend!” Jungkook stressed and saw the way Namjoon’s face morphed from anger to confusion.

“What?”

“We’ve been dating for almost three months.” The two boys just stared at each other for a minute before a Namjoon started laughing. “Hyung, what’s so funny? Who else would my girlfriend be?”

It took a few minutes for Namjoon to compose himself enough to actually reply to the younger boy. “Jungkook, let me ask you something. Did you ever ask (y/n) to be your girlfriend?”

“Uhh, I mean, no…but we go on dates and I bring her flowers and we talk all the time…and have a lot of sex.” He replied sheepishly and Namjoon started laughing again. “Stop laughing!”

“You’re such an idiot.” He said in-between laughs. “You can’t just assume things like that Jungkook. (Y/N) thought the two of you were friends-with-benefits, then she heard you telling Amber that you had a girlfriend tonight and thought you were talking about some other girl.”

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat. That was it? That’s why you were upset?

“Go fix this Jungkook, and please just tell that girl you’re in love with her.” Namjoon didn’t have to tell him twice.

“(Y/N), get up!” A voice hissed, pulling you out of her deep sleep. “Get your dumb ass up right now I swear to god.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me? Heartbroken, remember?” You groaned, sitting up and glaring at your best friend.

“Jungkook is here and you’re going to talk to him.” Your heart immediately dropped to your stomach.

“What kind of best friend are you? Aren’t you supposed to hate him with me?”

“Get up and go talk to him before I drag you out of this bed.” She threatened and you huffed before sliding out of your bed. Jungkook was the last person you wanted to talk to, but you knew better than to test your normally mild-mannered friend. “He’s standing outside.”

“Fine.” You grumbled, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and trudging to your front door. It wasn’t like you could avoid Jungkook forever, you were hoping for at least a few days though. Your hand was heavy on the doorknob. He was right on the other side, the boy you loved, the boy who had a girlfriend.

Might as well get the shitshow over with. Then you could go back to your normal, boy-free life and happily swear off relationships for the rest of your life.

“What do you want Jungkook?” You asked immediately after swinging the door open. Seeing him took your breath away, why did he have to look so good all the time?

“You’re my girlfriend!” He shouted immediately and you just blinked up at him.

“What?” Was all you could manage, and his hands moved to grip your shoulders.

“I was talking about you, you’re my girlfriend. Or, I thought you were, I thought we were dating. I really like you (y/n) and we were spending all that time together and going on dates, I kind of just assumed we were in a relationship.” He confessed, a blush creeping across his cheeks. You were still speechless, unable to think of anything to say in response.

“Wait, how long did you think we’ve been dating?” You finally asked, forehead scrunched in confusion.

“Since the first time, we went out for coffee.” He mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“Huh.”

“Huh?” Jungkook parroted.

“I really am an idiot.” You said with a sharp laugh. “God it all makes sense looking back at it, I was so convinced that you couldn’t possibly have feelings for me that I just wrote it off as being friends.”

“Friends don’t have the kind of sex that we do.” Jungkook pointed out and you giggled.

“Friends-with-benefits?” You suggested and he just shook his head. “I just…I’m sorry.”

Jungkook cocked his head. “Why are you apologizing? I should be the one to apologize for not being clearer.”

“I just don’t understand why you’d want to date me.” You confessed softly, dropping your gaze to the floor.

“Hey,” Jungkook breathed. “Look at me.”

You lifted your head, locking eyes with him and feeling your heart thud painfully against your chest. He was so gorgeous.

“You are so amazing and funny and beautiful. I literally love everything about you, spending time with you is my favorite thing to do. I just, I really like you.” You were both blushing at his confession. “And the way you take my cock down your throat is the hottest fucking thing on the planet.”

You slapped his shoulder as he laughed. “Way to ruin a touching moment.”

“We can have other touching moments.” He suggested with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

“I,” You started. “I really like you too Jungkook.”

“Good.” He chuckled. “It would have been awkward if you said you didn’t after all that.”

His large hands cupped your face, tilting your head up so he could press his lips against yours. You melted into the kiss immediately.

“Just one question.” He said, breaking apart to smile at you. “Will you be my girlfriend.”

You laughed before leaning forward to touch your lips to his. “Yes.”

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk x you #sky writes #jeon jungkook

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dontenchantme · 5 years ago

Text

haemophobia

Rated E, Solomon x MC, Asmo x MC - contains smut.

[vampire au] some people were afraid of blood. she was too, but for an entirely different reason.

fics masterlist

She knocked on the door. “Solomon?” she called, wondering if he was in his room. There was no answer, so carefully she tried the door and found it was unlocked.

He was sleeping on his desk, his silvery bangs falling carelessly over his eyes. An open book lay in front of him and she smiled, shaking her head. How long had he sat there, silent and unmoving, poring over his latest grimoire?

She glanced at the small glass bottle in her hand, wondering if she should pour it out for him. The smell would no doubt wake him up, but he seemed so peaceful when he was sleeping like this. It made her heart ache, looking at his serene face.

She was hoping for far too much. She knew all he thought about was his research. He was obsessed with his work, constantly searching for the forbidden rituals that would allow him to revive the dead. He had given up everything he owned for more time.

With a sigh, she placed the bottle gently next to him, taking care not to rouse him from his slumber. It was good that he was finally getting some rest. When was the last time he slept? Three nights ago? Last night she saw him rummaging through the kitchen with a haunted look in his eyes. They exchanged pleasantries, he smiled, then he left the kitchen empty-handed, declining her offer to bring dinner up to his room.

Part of her wondered if he was going out of his way to avoid her. It certainly seemed to be the case. She felt the distance growing between them, even if he insisted that nothing was wrong, that he was on the verge of a breakthrough and he just needed to push a little harder – she could feel him slipping away through her fingers, and it made her feel…disappointed? Was that the right word? She wasn’t sure.

In the beginning, they got along so well. He was the first to make her feel welcome, the first to take an interest in who she was as a person. The others needed some time to warm up to her, and she didn’t blame them for that, but Solomon had a soft smile and a curious, observant gaze that never made her feel threatened no matter how much he probed into her secrets. She felt comfortable telling him about herself.

He was the only one who felt like he wouldn’t take her secrets and use them as a weapon against her. Eventually, she grew to get along with all of them, but he would always hold a special place in her heart. The recent distance between them made her feel antsy. Like her daily routine had been horribly, rudely disrupted.

Her eyes flitted to the bottle, then to his lips, which were slightly parted. In slumber, there was no frown marring his face, and she wished he could look like this more often, especially when he was awake. He was mesmerising, almost angelic in his beauty, and she found herself reaching for him – her fingers were almost touching his hair before she came to her senses and abruptly turned away, her heart racing.

Solomon didn’t like being touched without warning. She knew that, so what on earth had she been thinking? She glanced at him again and saw that he was still sleeping, oblivious to the world around him. She left the room, making sure to close the door quietly behind her, then exhaled and shook her head. She was such an idiot.

Deciding that she needed a distraction, she went down the stairs and headed to the common room, wondering if anyone would be there – if she was lucky, she’d bump into Satan or Simeon, and they’d be able to distract her with stories about their day. Satan was an excellent storyteller, and Simeon always made her feel at ease with his peaceful smile and gentle demeanour. It was practically impossible to irk Simeon.

She heard voices drifting from the common room and paused, trying to identify who they were – someone laughed, a sweet, almost feminine sound. Asmodeus. Another person replied, a deeper baritone that she recognised to be Lucifer’s voice.

What were they talking about? She was used to seeing the oldest-born scolding his brother about bringing women back to his room, but they seemed to be having a regular conversation now. She cleared her throat before she stepped into the room and saw two pairs of red eyes turning towards her, one pair filled with amusement, the other cool and aloof. “Aren’t you two going to sleep?” she asked.

Asmodeus chuckled. “Us? You should worry about yourself, little lamb,” he teased. “Night-time is when we are most active, you know…unless you’re Simeon. No one understands what’s going through his mind.” He shrugged, though his gaze never left hers. She was unable to look away from him, and as she watched the tip of his tongue flicked out, wetting his lips. “Why don’t you come and sit here with me, hm?”

She smiled. “Aren’t you going to the pub?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. Lucifer frowned at her comment, but Asmodeus seemed unbothered by his reaction.

“Not tonight. I like to have some time for myself, every once in a while.” He winked. “Though you know, you’re always free to join me in my room, darling.”

She shook her head, though her lips curled up at his casual flirting. She had stayed here for long enough to know that Asmodeus behaved like this with everyone, that it didn’t mean anything, and she didn’t have to be shy when he paid her any attention. Though admittedly, it was flattering that someone as gorgeous as him would give her the time of day. She wasn’t ugly, but she wasn’t the most stunning of ladies either.

Lucifer sighed. “Don’t encourage him,” he warned her, and she gave him a demure smile, lowering her gaze politely. “Asmo, didn’t you have errands to run tonight?”

“Mm, nothing that can’t be done tomorrow.” Asmodeus waved his hand carelessly, watching her rather than his older brother. “And I couldn’t just leave our fragile little flower on her own, could I? She must be here this late for a reason.”

Asmodeus could be incredibly observant when he wanted to be. That was probably why he was good friends with Solomon. At least it looked like they were friends – at other times they seemed ready to strangle each other. “I can’t sleep,” she said.

As she spoke, she made her way to the chaise longue. Asmodeus patted the spot beside him, and she was about to sit when his fingers suddenly wrapped around her arm and he pulled her onto his lap, laughing at her yelp of surprise.

Lucifer shot him a disapproving look, which didn’t bother Asmodeus in the slightest. “I’m going to bed,” the first-born announced, rising from his seat. “Don’t keep her up too late, Asmo. She’s human, after all. And she has errands to run tomorrow.”

“Just leave us alone, Lucifer.” Asmodeus tutted, and Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him, a final unspoken warning before he swept out of the common room, heading towards the stairs. Asmodeus waited for his footsteps to fade away before he looked back at her with a conspiratorial grin on his face. She couldn’t help but return his smile.

Yet when he spoke, his words were soft and sensual, and the mood shifted abruptly, making her breath catch. “Tell me, little lamb, what are you thinking about that’s gotten you so worked up?” he whispered, running a slender finger against her jaw. His touch was pleasantly warm, and she was suddenly incredibly aware of the fact that she was sitting on his lap. “You’re awfully tense, you know.”

“I’m not…” She didn’t sound convinced, not even to herself. Asmodeus smirked, and her mind blanked out when he lowered his head, his face suddenly right in front of hers. She couldn’t look away from him, from those mesmerising eyes that seemed to alternate between orangey-brown and vivid scarlet, depending on his mood – from those full lips that curved up when her breath hitched, inches away from her mouth.

“You’re not?” he asked, his voice quiet. “I can feel how stiff you are, darling. If you wish to lie, then you should come up with something more convincing.” He studied her for a moment, then she saw his eyes darken and he buried his face in her hair, a low moan escaping his lips. “You smell so good. I wish I could just give you a little nip,” he murmured, and she froze when she felt his fingers tilting her chin up.

She ought to get off his lap and leave, but there was something intoxicating about Asmodeus – something about his lullaby-like voice, something about the way his soft lips pressed against her throat, that rendered her immobile. Helpless prey just waiting for the predator to pounce on her and devour her completely. “May I?” His voice was husky, and she felt rather than heard the question – his lips slid across her skin and she shuddered when she felt the slightest hint of fang.

She was tempted to say yes. He rested his mouth right where her pulse thrummed, racing from fear – from desire? Her fingers clutched weakly at his shirt, and his grip on her tightened, his arm sliding from her shoulders to settle around her waist.

If she was being honest, she had always wondered how it might feel. Ever since she stumbled into this mansion in the middle of nowhere, a lost traveller drenched from the rain, and suddenly found herself living in a den full of bloodthirsty predators – just a few months ago she would have thought herself insane for even entertaining this thought, but she knew them now. She knew what they were like underneath the masks, how they interacted with each other, how they had opened their hearts to her.

And Asmodeus, for all his usual playfulness, was perfectly serious now – he wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that. But there was a dark, almost feral promise in his eyes, a look she had never seen on him before, a look that whispered of unbelievable pleasure as long as she was willing to give in to him. She would be lying if she said he didn’t enthral her.

But then she remembered hooded, yellow-blue eyes and a haunted smile and she hesitated, unwilling to grant him permission but still halfway under his spell. Her lips parted as she struggled to come up with the words to respond, and Asmodeus took the chance to kiss her then, making her jerk in surprise – his fingers twined through her hair and she felt his desperation, his thirst as his mouth moved against hers.

She stayed still for a moment, unsure of how to react – there was a little flutter in her heart, but she pushed it away, unwilling to acknowledge her possible attraction, the possibility that she wanted this, that she wanted him to bite her – and after a few seconds she came to her senses and pulled away, trying to control her breathing.

“Asmodeus –” she started, but then she heard a cough and looked in the direction of the entrance. She froze when she saw Solomon standing there, an eyebrow raised at the sight of them together. Suddenly, she just wanted to hide.

“I apologise, am I interrupting something?” he asked. She wanted to protest, to say that there was absolutely nothing going on, but then he met her gaze and suddenly she didn’t know what to say. His eyes were blank. Distant. “I wanted to thank you for bringing me dinner, but I suppose you don’t need my thanks.” His gaze flitted over to Asmodeus, and his eyes narrowed. “Please keep it down. Some of us are busy.”

“Just go back to your grimoires, Solo,” Asmodeus grumbled. Solomon gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and turned away – she tried to say something, but her voice failed her, and she just watched as he left, disappearing from her sight.

Once Solomon was gone, Asmodeus sighed. “He has an uncanny knack for showing up whenever you’re alone with one of us,” he muttered. “It’s like he’s psychic…”

“I have to go.” She felt like cold water had just been splashed on her face – the fog of his charm had lifted, and she felt completely lucid. There was a strange sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, and she knew she had to go after Solomon.

Asmodeus didn’t try to stop her as she got off his lap, though when she glanced at him there was something almost sad in his smile. “Good luck, my little lamb. Lord knows you’d need it,” he said, and she felt almost guilty seeing that expression on his face – but it wasn’t her fault. He wasn’t interested in her. Was he?

She shook the thought away and went up the stairs to Solomon’s room, where she guessed he’d no doubt be, looking through yet another ancient spellbook. He was hardly ever out of his room nowadays. She took a second to calm herself down, her hand reaching hesitantly for the door. Squeezing her eyes shut, she knocked and waited, knowing perfectly well he was awake this time.

There was no answer. “Solomon?” she said, keeping her voice down – she didn’t want the others to hear her. “It’s me. May I come in? Please?”

A few seconds passed, again without any response. She was about to give up and turn away – maybe she could try explaining herself tomorrow morning, after they had some time away from each other – when the door suddenly opened and there he stood, watching her impassively. “Aren’t you busy with Asmo, little lamb?”

She winced. It was strange to hear him use Asmodeus’ pet name for her. Almost wrong. “We need to talk. It’s not what it looks like.” She stared pleadingly at him and she could see him wavering – she continued to look at him and finally, he sighed, beckoning her inside his room. She went in gratefully, closing the door behind her.

“Well?” Solomon folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t know why you feel any need to explain. What you want to do with Asmo is up to you; it’s not in my place to interfere.” The lack of emotion in his words made her heart ache.

“But I want you to interfere,” she protested. He didn’t say anything, but he stared at her with an unfamiliar intensity in his yellow-blue eyes, and she swallowed, trying to put her thoughts into coherent words. “After I put the bottle in your room, I…I went to the common room to try and distract myself. Asmodeus was there. We talked for a while and then – I’m not sure what happened, but we – I don’t know.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” Solomon tilted his head, his gaze still unreadable. “We are simply friends, are we not? If you want to fool around with Asmo, then I wish you all the best. Though I would warn you to be careful. He’s quite the connoisseur of women. And I wouldn’t want you to break your heart.”

She could hear a note of concern in his voice, but the thought that he viewed her only as a friend made her chest tighten. “I don’t want Asmodeus, Solomon. He isn’t who I’m interested in.” He didn’t say anything, and she lowered her gaze to the ground, forcing herself to take deep breaths. She didn’t want to look at his face.

There was the sound of footsteps and then she felt his hand cup her cheek, forcing her to look up at him. His eyes were lit with interest, and her breath caught as she met his gaze – something fluttered in her belly, a foreign sensation that made her clench her fists. “Then who are you interested in?” he asked, curiosity in his voice.

He was probably curious because that was just the kind of person he was. It didn’t mean anything. “Nobody,” she muttered, trying to turn away, but his grip was firm, and he didn’t allow her to move. “What business is it of yours?”

Solomon exhaled. “You were the one who came here, insisting on explaining the situation – then the moment I start asking questions you decide not to answer?”

She squirmed, uncomfortably aware of his fingers on her skin. “It’s not a question relevant to the situation,” she answered. As she spoke, her gaze flitted all over the room and landed on the glass bottle she had brought up to him earlier, still on the table. It looked like he had barely touched it. “Have you had your dinner?” she asked, abruptly changing the topic.

He seemed surprised by the sudden question. “Yes. I’ve had it.” He glanced at the bottle as well, and his eyes darkened slightly, his hand falling from her cheek. “I…” He hesitated, then he shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he murmured, but he had caught her attention, and she peered at him, trying to read his expression. For some reason, he looked almost guilty.

“There’s something wrong, isn’t there?” She frowned. “Do you need more? Are you still hungry?” Strange, though. One bottle should be more than enough for him.

He met her gaze, and there was reluctance in his eyes. “Don’t worry about that. It’s nothing particularly important. But you should go. It’s getting late.”

“You know we have plenty more in the kitchen. Just give me a second and I can get some more for you. Then you’ll be able to concentrate on your books.”

“Don’t!” His sudden vehemence made her freeze, and she blinked, taken aback by the unexpected intensity in his voice. “Don’t take more. It’s not…it’s not enough,” he whispered, and she noticed with trepidation that his pupils were blown out, the yellow-blue of his eyes barely visible. The air in the room simmered with tension.

“Solomon…?” His name barely left her lips before he snarled, closing the small gap between them and pushing her against the wall – she couldn’t breathe, just staring at him as he towered over her, their bodies so close that she could feel his warmth bleeding through her clothes. His nearness made her dizzy. “What are you doing?”

“I’m so thirsty.” His voice was different, lower than she was used to, and there was a huskiness to it that made her toes curl. “You have no idea how delicious you smell.”

She gasped when his lips parted and she saw his fangs – it was the first time he ever bared them in front of her, and she wasn’t sure whether the thrill that ran through her was due to fear or excitement. “You can’t – you can’t bite me,” she whispered.

Diavolo had promised that she would be safe from the residents of the mansion. All she had to do was run errands and help Barbatos with a few chores. And when any of the men were forced to attend social events, she acted as their partner, helping them fend off the attention of the ladies. Well, unless that man was Asmodeus.

Barbatos told her once that Diavolo kept her around because she amused him, and she didn’t dare to question the word of the young lord who owned the mansion. In the beginning, she didn’t even realise they were all vampires; she just thought they had a strange penchant for red wine but assumed that was normal for noblemen.

Staying in the mansion was a far better alternative than sleeping on the streets. On the first night, it was a choice between this place or braving the thunderstorm, and after that, she thought it might be better to stay here and earn her keep than to try and venture out. The world was not kind to those who were penniless and alone.

“I can’t…” Solomon’s voice was quiet, almost dazed. “You smell like Asmo.” She felt his lips press against her throat and she tensed when she felt his teeth scrape her skin, a slight sting that faded into the briefest hum of pleasure. “I don’t like it.”

Should she protest? Should she struggle and scream for help, should she push him away? She knew she was supposed to. But she didn’t want to. “What are you going to do about it?” she whispered, looking intently into his dark eyes. He groaned.

“Need to get that smell off you. Replace it with my scent.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck, and she moaned when she felt his lips pressing butterfly kisses up her throat to her jaw, his breath ghosting against her ear. His body was flush against hers and she could feel every inch of his arousal – she whimpered, reaching blindly for him, and with a growl, he scooped her into his arms and placed her on his bed.

This was sudden. Unexpected. But not unwelcome. The mattress sank beneath his weight as he leant over her, capturing her mouth with his – she could feel his fangs in the kiss, leaving tiny little scratches on her lips. But they didn’t hurt.

The more attracted a vampire is to a human, the better that human smells to them. And that is why you cannot fall in love with anyone here. Barbatos’ warning floated through her mind, but at this point it was hard to care – not when Solomon was on top of her, unbuttoning her blouse, pushing away the collar, his lips trailing all over her bare skin. Everywhere he touched felt hot, and she gasped when he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot, the area where her neck curved into her shoulder – her back arched and she clung tightly onto him, his name falling from her lips.

“You smell so good…” There was a desperation in his voice she had never heard before. “My throat is on fire. No matter how much blood you bring to me, it’s just never enough.” His gaze was heated. “Do you know how hard it is to stop myself from pouncing on you every time you bring me my meals?”

Was that why he had been avoiding her? “You can have me,” she whispered, her arms looping around his neck. “As much or as little as you want. I’ll give it to you.”

He groaned. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he hissed, and she pulled him down for another searing kiss, shifting so that he was cradled between her thighs – his hips jerked against her and she moaned when his hardness ground against her core, a wave of pleasure crashing through her.

“I promise,” she told him, her fingers winding through his hair. It was as silky as it looked, and when she pulled lightly at his silver locks he groaned again, his gaze filled with an overwhelming need that made her giddy. “I’m yours if you want me.”

“Me wanting you was never the question.” He didn’t bother to undo the rest of her buttons – he just ripped the blouse apart and impatiently pushed her brassiere aside, exposing her breasts. She whimpered when he took one pert nipple into his mouth, cupping and kneading the other breast with his hand.

Every time his fangs grazed her skin, she jerked, and she felt herself growing hotter, her body writhing underneath his ministrations. He was careful not to bite, though she was starting to wish he’d just sink his fangs into her – what would it feel like, to be bitten by Solomon? She had heard from the other residents about how enjoyable a vampire’s bite could be. The thought of being bitten by him…

Another spasm of pleasure shot through her, going straight to her pussy. She was already wet, and she whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist, hoping he’d get her message – she wanted something in her. Now. Solomon let his tongue flick against her nipple once more before he let go, and she was unable to stop the cry from escaping her lips. “What do you want?” he murmured, his voice husky.

“You. Inside me. Please.” She was too far gone to care about being embarrassed, and his eyes narrowed at her plea – within seconds he had peeled her skirt off her body, and she was tilting her hips, encouraging him to strip her even more.

He didn’t touch her panties, though the heated look he shot her went straight to her groin, and she had to clench her thighs together – instead, Solomon removed his shirt and undid his belt, stepping out of his pants in one smooth, fluid motion. The next instant he was back on the bed, his fingers sliding over her wet sex, and she bit her lip, frustrated by the thin layer of cloth that separated them.

She moved her hands down, prepared to remove her underwear herself if she had to, but his hands seized her wrists, preventing her from going any further. “No.” He stared down at her, and she whined, arching her back – his fingers tightened. “Let me…let me do this,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Please.”

She couldn’t turn down the plea in his voice, so she nodded, and he exhaled, his grip on her loosening slightly. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers drifting back to the hem of her underwear – slowly, languidly, he slid a finger against her pussy, teasing her through the damp cloth. She gasped, pressing her thighs together, but he shifted so that he was between her legs, preventing her from closing them. “And so wet for me.” He inhaled, blinking slowly, and he looked almost dazed.

He pushed her panties aside then, hooking them with one finger, and she shivered when he lowered his face, his sharp teeth teasing the delicate flesh of her inner thigh. Every fleeting touch made her shiver, her fingers sinking into his blanket, her head jerking back into the pillows. His lips lingered on her, soft, tantalising, torturous.

“You smell so good.” She barely heard his whisper, and she looked at him through eyes that prickled with tears – he sucked gently on her inner thigh and she cried his name, her skin beyond sensitive at this point. “Do you – do you want me to bite?”

For a moment, he sounded almost afraid, but she swallowed and nodded, holding his gaze. His eyes widened, and he looked at her with an expression so tender that she could feel herself melting – then in the next moment she felt a sharp sting and she jerked into his mouth as his fangs sank into the soft skin of her thigh.

The sting lasted barely even a second. Suddenly all she felt was heat, the sensation of his mouth on her, the warm liquid dripping down her skin – she sank into the waves of pleasure that swept through her, the fever in her body reaching an intensity she never thought possible. It felt like she was about to combust.

Her body was tightening, and everything hurt in the most exquisite way. She was so close, she was teetering on the precipice of the most glorious fall, and her fingers reached for him, her back arching so that she could twine her fingers through his hair. She could barely register anything that wasn’t him. She trembled, wishing this would come to an end but at the same time hoping he would dangle her in the jaws of eternity, hoping that this beautiful, delicate torture would never reach its climax.

She only vaguely felt his hands tearing off her panties, and then his fingers were in her and she screamed, the burn from his bite and the sensation of his hand on her sex proving to be a lethal combination – she came undone around him, sobbing his name like a prayer, and she felt his tongue run over her thigh, cleaning off the wound he left behind. His eyes were bright, feverish. She felt light-headed.

He didn’t say a word. He just shifted his hands underneath her thighs and brought her legs up to rest on his shoulders – when he slid himself into her, she spasmed, still sensitive from her high. He pounded into her with the ferocity of a man possessed and she lost herself entirely in the euphoria of his touch, unable to put together a coherent thought. Solomon, Solomon. Her mind was full of his name, and when he leant down to kiss her – she noticed his fangs were gone – she kissed him back with careless abandon, her legs shifting to wrap tightly around his waist instead.

“Solomon!” She choked out his name when he drove himself into her, deeper than he was before – his head fell against her neck and he was panting, his fingers wrapping around her wrists and holding her down. Her hips were tilted up to meet his, and she could feel him constantly hitting a particular spot within her that made her body quiver. “Please. Please. I-I want…” She didn’t know what she wanted.

But he seemed to understand. He let go of one wrist to squeeze her breast and she arched into his palm, her eyes rolling back. With a quiet hiss, he slipped his hand between her legs, circling her clit as he continued to pound into her, and before long she was screaming again, her body clenching tightly around him, desperate for him to join her in her blissful throes of pleasure – a few more thrusts and then he spilt himself within her, gasping her name, his hands reaching up to push her hair away from her eyes.

He remained inside her for a while, and she tried to catch her breath, her chest heaving. His silver bangs were plastered to his forehead, and his eyes, though still filled with desire, were no longer as predatory as they were earlier. His gaze flitted from her face to her bare breasts, then back again. “I…I should apologise.”

“For bedding me?” she demanded. “A little late for that, isn’t it?”

“No. I mean yes. But no.” Solomon looked almost embarrassed now, though he had yet to slip out of her. “For biting you. I might have taken a little too much…”

That explained her dizziness. She had thought it was just the sex. “I wanted you to. Don’t feel guilty.” She reached up to cup his face, though her arms trembled from the effort. “You need my blood, don’t you? You kept saying you were thirsty.”

He frowned. “I do. I hate it.” He lowered himself onto her so that his body pressed against hers, their faces mere inches apart. “You were told, weren’t you? When we fall for someone, all we can think about is that person’s blood. It sings to us. All the blood we drink from other sources…it becomes bland. Flavourless. Disgusting.”

She suddenly remembered the recent skipped meals, the haunted look in his eyes, the listless foraging in the kitchen. “How long has it been?”

“A month,” he whispered. “A month since I realised my feelings for you. A month since I drank anything that pleased me. A month where just smelling your scent was enough to light an inextinguishable fire in my throat.”

“Were you avoiding me to protect me?” she asked wonderingly. He hesitated, then he looked away from her, a quiet sigh escaping his lips.

“If we aren’t careful, I could very well lose control and drain you dry one day,” he murmured. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to be responsible for the death of yet another person I care about. That’s all.”

A person he cared about. Her breath caught even as sorrow filled her chest – it was this haunted, mournful gaze which first drew her to him, and gently she turned his face back towards her. “I’m stronger than you think I am,” she promised.

He laughed. “I’m afraid I must agree. Only strong-willed women or blatant fools would tempt Asmodeus without giving him what he wants.”

She blushed at the teasing lilt in his voice. “It wasn’t intentional.”

“I can’t blame you. He’s quite the charmer. The way he persuades women to lie with him is an art in itself.” His voice hardened. “But you’re mine now, and I’m afraid I don’t share. No matter how sweetly your blood sings for the rest of them.”

The ring of possessiveness in his voice made her toes curl. “I’m yours,” she agreed, her heart racing at the confession.

“Yes,” he answered, ghosting his lips across her throat. She sighed, shuddering at his gentle touch. “And I’m yours.” He held her gaze, then he gave her the sweetest of smiles, one that made her stomach flip. “I love you, ahuvati. You give this cursed second existence of mine something to live for.”

“I love you too.” She traced his perfect features with her fingertips, drinking in the sight of this beautiful man looking at her with such tender adoration in his eyes.

He growled low in his throat, his hips jerking against her, and she gasped, placing her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. “Wait. You still want to continue?”

“You thought that was the end?” He raised an eyebrow. “Now that you’re mine, I’ll have to mark every part of you. The others need to know who you chose, and I’m not letting you go until you smell like me, and your blood whispers my name.”

Those words were filled with promise, and she closed her eyes, a soft, needy moan escaping her. “Whatever you want,” she told him, and he captured her mouth in another kiss, this time soft and loving.

She could drown in his arms. She wanted to. The rest of the night, she forgot her name and her very identity, losing herself in him, and he in her. When she woke up the next morning with her limbs sore and his arms wrapped loosely around her, a strange feeling of peace spread throughout her entire body, and she smiled.

He was a dream, the most beautiful dream she ever had. She didn’t know if he was real or a mere figment of her imagination, but either way, she wasn’t prepared to wake up. She didn’t want to let him go.

#asmodeus #solomon #asmodeus obey me #asmo obey me #solomon obey me #asmodeus x mc #asmo x mc #solomon x mc #obey me #obey me shall we date

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adacarisi · 7 years ago

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Can you do something where Barba loves rough sex but the reader really doesn't but she doesn't say anything cause she loves Barba too much and then he finds out and super sweet smut ensues? 😊😊😊

Honesty about sexual preferences is very important, you don’t see that kind of open communication a lot in the media, but in real relationships it’s very important. That being said, enjoy.

You had never met anyone like him. He had a presence that dominated any conversation, and when you were in a room with him you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fashionably clad body. Lucky for you he seemed to have the same predicament with you. Rafael Barba had asked you out the night you met, despite wanting to play the long game with you, as was his specialty. He had strode over as soon as he saw another handsome ADA begin chatting gaily with you and interrupted your conversation with his introduction.

Rafael treated you in glorious fashion, as you continued to date he became more and more attentive despite his busy schedule. He adored you, it was all he could do to not tell you so every minute of the day. You never left his thoughts, he would find himself smirking at his legal pad in court, envisioning the next time he would see you.

You were gentle and kind, he was strong and firm. You matched and complimented each other so well. Except for one thing, Rafael was a bit rough in the bedroom, at first you assumed it was just pent up anticipation or anger from a trial, but he was consistent. Everything felt wonderful, and he never hurt you, you both even had a safe word, but you wanted everything to be softer, slower, closer.

You hesitated to bring it up because you were terrified of shaming him, making it seem as if his sexual preference was out of the norm, or deviant. Especially with his line of work prosecuting sex crimes you feared that he would think the sex you had was non consensual. It wasn’t, you just wanted him, Rafael, you wanted the sweet man you had come to know so well in the last few months.

You planned to tell him when he got home from court, you had exchanged house keys a few weeks back and would wait for him to come home at his apartment. You took it upon yourself to make him dinner, or at least pick something up seeing as he would never find the time. You cared for him deeply, you might have even loved him. So now you were waiting in your sweatpants and his Harvard Law t-shirt, laid on his couch watching his press brief from earlier in the day.

His keys sounded loudly in the door as he jangled them about and your first worry was that he was drunk. It happened more often than you would like. Rafael could hold his liquor, but on his worst nights he would drink more than he could handle and stumble home, frustrated and drunk. He always apologized profusely as you helped him out of his suit and into bed. It was hard. But every time it happened you would forgive him with a kiss before tucking him in next to you. He would pull you hard against him like a doll and roughly nuzzle your head with his cheek before falling fast asleep.

You sat up on the couch as he fell into the apartment, dusted in snow that had been falling all day. He paused and smiled at you before taking off his coat and dropping his briefcase with a thud.

“You would not believe the day I’ve had…” He started as he approached you, kicking off his shoes in the small hallway off the living room.

“Wanna talk about it?” You asked, already knowing most of it having watched his press brief a few times before he walked in the door.

“Not right now…right now…all I want to do…is fuck you until neither of us can stand.” He pounced on you, growling as he bit at your neck and sucked along your jaw.

“Raf…”

“What’s our word?” He asked gruffly, his hands slipping underneath his Harvard t that clung loosely to your body.

“Raf…Raf…Rafael!” You pushed him off of you and stood, heart pounding and eyes filling quickly with tears you desperately did not want to fall.

He sat up quickly with wide eyes, reaching a hand towards you as if trying to calm a skittish animal.

“I don’t want…”

“Hey…hey, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” His voice trembled and he looked so shocked it broke your heart.

You started to cry, and Rafael didn’t know what to do. He wanted to pull you into his arms and comfort you but he was still confused at what had happened. Did you not like him anymore? Did you want to end your relationship? Had he done something? Said something?

You could almost hear the thoughts pounding away on the inside of his scull so you sat yourself in his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck as you cried softly. His hands were hesitant but they found their way to your thigh and back. He took a few sharp inhales, obviously trying to keep himself from crying too. You had to say something now, you had panicked him.

“Raf…I…I really care about you, and I really like being with you, but…but sometimes…I just wish…you weren’t so…so rough.” You spoke slowly, worry and caution coating every word.

“Okay…I can do that…of course I can do that, cariño, why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” Rafael took a deep breath to calm himself and rubbed a hand up and down your back in a soothing motion.

“I…oh Raf…I…” You struggled for words, not knowing how to tell him why you had waited without revealing the depth of your emotions for your man.

“You’re not…afraid of me…are you?” He lightened his grip substantially as you broke away to face him.

“No baby no…I just…I want you to be open with me, I don’t want you to think I don’t like what you like in bed, because I do, I just want you to be softer, more gentle.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, his voice low and eyes lost.

“Sweetheart you didn’t know, baby all that matters is we’re talking about it now.” You reassured him with a light kiss on his brow.

He looked devastated and it broke your heart in two. All Rafael could think was that he had hurt you, every time you had sex, he had hurt you.

“Are you okay…I mean…” He didn’t know the words to express how sorry he was, suddenly a montage of your sexual dalliances flickering before his eyes, wondering how he had missed your discomfort.

“Raf you didn’t hurt me, I’m fine, I’m more than fine, I’m with you.” You ran a hand through his hair but he flinched slightly as if somehow trying to distance you from further harm.

“But now I’ve ruined it. I’ve ruined us.” His voice was dejected and his expression one of total despondence.

“You have not! Rafael the last thing I want to do is have you blame yourself, or somehow think that I haven’t enjoyed our time together. Being with you is, god, so wonderful, please don’t think I’ve been hurt or…traumatized.”

He fell silent and the look on his face worried you, you could physically see the mask fall over his features as his eyes returned to yours in an expression of neutrality.

“If you would like to…go. I understand.” His voice betrayed his emotions, as his arms left your body entirely.

“Rafael, I’m never going. Never. I love you. And I’m going to stay by your side for as long as you’ll let me.” This was the only thing you could have possibly said to heal him, to save him from himself.

There are moments in life, terrible situations of loss or grief in which one is totally and utterly at a loss for words. One cannot know what another needs so desperately to hear, the many or few words that would soothe and suffice. But sometimes, sometimes those words are spoken into the heavy silence, by chance or by a bond so deep they seemed the only words that could be spoken, and they heal, salve and reconstruct.

These were the words Rafael needed to hear. The words he had been waiting to hear for decades. Though he would have no one think so, he had felt horribly, terribly, miserably, desolate…for so many years. Left in the cold by one lover and then another, his trust fading until he no longer trusted anyone, unable to relinquish his guard he had constructed so flawlessly.

But here you were, saying the only words that silenced the screaming congress in his head, the only words in the entirety of the English language that would allow him to forgive himself.

“I’m never going. I love you.” You repeated and his mask fell, melting like a cascade of silk ribbons into your hands as you caressed his face, pulling him from deep within himself where he had retreated.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated once more as you stroked over his brow and nose, placing delicate kisses in a path as you went.

You took one of his hands and placed it on your chest so he could feel the calm beat of your heart as it pulsed against your ribcage. That seemed to soothe him, his fingers flexed and pressed against the fabric of his t-shirt.

“Rafael Barba, you have nothing to be sorry for.” His eyes flicked up to yours and you couldn’t help but gasp softly at the total lack of inhibition in them.

He was relaxed and at peace, the weight of you on his lap and the beat of your heart under his fingertips. Rafael Barba surrendered himself to you, to your scent, to your voice, to your words.

“I trust you.” He spoke, his voice light at this admission.

You took his other hand and kissed each finger slowly, taking his middle finger into your mouth with a light suck and brush of your tongue.

“I will never betray that trust.” You spoke after removing his finger from your mouth and pressing his palm to your cheek in a tender motion.

“Did you mean it?” His voice was small and so unlike him it gave you pause.

“What baby?”

“You love me?”

“I’m afraid so.” You smiled softly trying to return your usual humorous rapport to the moment.

He brushed his hand over your cheek, feeling the rise of the bones in your face as he moved over them.

“If you’ll let me, I’ll show you how you can love me too.” You moved forward on his lap to convey the physicality of your intentions.

He nodded and you rocked your hips over his a few times before standing and pulling him with you towards his bedroom.

It was dark, you didn’t turn on the lights, you didn’t need them. Light from the city flickered in and out, street lamps below and headlights acted as candle light, soft and seemingly natural as you pulled him down beside you on the bed.

He hooked one leg over yours and kissed you so lightly you wondered if your lips had made contact at all. You moved your hands along his suit clad body and helped him push off one layer at a time until his chest was bare. Rafael slipped you out of his t-shirt in one smooth motion, kissing at your upper arms as they were revealed to him.

It felt as if everything were moving in slow motion, the kisses were long and languid, his touches even longer and softer. You moved his hands to your breasts and demonstrated on top of them how you liked to be squeezed and fondled. He observed carefully and repeated your motions exactly before he brought his mouth to your nipple. He rolled his tongue around the raised skin, sucking ever so softly before dragging his tongue wetly down the swell of your breast towards your ribcage.

You moaned softly and he watched as you pressed your head into the pillow behind you, rolling onto your back from your previous position facing him on your side.

He continued downward, kissing your stomach softly and then wetly, sucking along the plump area around your belly button. Rafael looked to you, not taking his eyes from your face as you watched him move even lower before waiting for your approval.

He wrapped his arms under your thighs and anchored himself to you before kissing your center once, twice, three times with the upmost tenderness. You reached for his face and caressed where you could make contact as he licked you slowly, his tongue tasting your arousal more strongly than ever before.

Rafael hummed and moaned as he moved agonizingly slow, working you with the tip of his tongue before lapping at you even more slowly. Just when you were almost over the edge he gave you a final kiss before moving his body over your own.

You pressed against his chest with your hands until he landed on his back, your faces maintaining the same distance apart as you moved. You sucked on his jaw in the spot you knew he loved and listened as he moaned quietly. Ghosting a hand down his torso you let a finger fall and drag along his center, chest to pelvis before unbuckling his belt and removing his pants.

He looked painfully hard when you eased his briefs down, so you rewarded him with a few kisses of your own before taking him into your mouth. He whimpered a few, “Oh God’s” before collapsing back onto the pillows with a hand on his forehead.

You moved gently and carefully, extending every pleasure you gave him tenfold. Your tongue tasted him as he had tasted you, and it sent sparks through your stomach and spine. He fought to keep his hips in place as you took him further, nearly his entire length in your mouth and throat. You saw his hands clench his sheets and he cried out, meaning if you wanted him inside you you had to stop now.

You laid on your back and he rolled on top of you, taking care not to press too hard against your body as he did. Now he was afraid, afraid of losing control and being too rough with you. You saw this written across his features and pulled his head towards you to kiss him, firmly and surely.

“I love you.” You spoke tracing a finger down his cheek.

Rafael lined himself up with you and pushed inside of you slowly. He watched every motion of your body as you took him in, observing for any hesitation or pain. You were in raptures as he bottomed out, throbbing inside of you as he stilled.

He still hadn’t moved after a couple of moments so you placed your hands on his bare hips and urged him with the motion of your hands. You instructed him silently with your legs, moving along his back and thighs in tandem with his slow thrusts. Rafael cried and whimpered at the intimacy of the moment, you joined him delighted by the sounds he was making. You urged him a little faster with a nip on his ear and he obliged while moving a hand to your clit, his fingertips brushing along his cock as it slid in and out of you.

Rafael moaned your name, his eyebrows knit together in concentration, his jaw slacked and open at the pleasure he didn’t know was possible. The pleasure of intimacy, slow, undistracted intimacy.

He rolled your clit softly and you kissed him hard before sobbing into his open mouth, that was his cue that you were seconds away from your climax. Rafael repeated the motions and you reached for his hands, pulling them up to rest in yours beside your head. He tented over you as he continued thrusting, the both of you whimpering and sighing, groaning and gasping at the strength of the sensations caused by such soft and tender ministrations.

His eyes fell shut and he choked as his own climax began to eat away at his synapses.

“Look at me baby…look at me.” You moaned, his grip on your hands even tighter as his body began to contract.

The second his green eyes flashed open you came, focusing all your energy on keeping them open to maintain the bond of eye contact. He gasped loudly as you squeezed around him with the force of your climax. Rafael fell further onto you pressing your breasts into his chest as he came, every bone in his body melting away into an array of glitter that burned like fire.

He couldn’t stop moaning as he recovered, only pulling out of you minutes later. As he struggled for his breath and words you laid your head gingerly on his chest and purred.

“I love you.” He managed, the words sliding from his tongue as if they had been on it’s tip for months.

“I love you too. Thank you…for being so…gentle.”

“Was that…” He tried before taking a deep inhale.

“Very…I’d say the–” You almost finished before he stole the words from your lips.

“Best?” You could almost feel his smile as his arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer.

“Yes.” You chuckled softly, stroking his chest hair with the tips of your fingers.

“You know…we can do the rough stuff sometimes, I don’t mind. Just not…all the time.” You spoke truly, genuinely wanting to indulge him every once in a while.

“Whenever you want.” He closed his eyes and you knew he was about to fall asleep so you kissed him once more with a hand on his cheek.

“Thank you…for understanding.”

“Of course…I love you.” The words made him feel warm, warm and safe.

They had a similar effect on you as well. You whispered the same to him with a smile before drifting off into sleep, blissfully at peace in Rafael Barba’s strong arms knowing this was only the beginning of something truly wonderful.

#rafael barba x reader #rafael barba #raul esparza #barba #law and order svu #adacarisi #smut

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imaginedolanscribbles · 7 years ago

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Halloween

Ethan x reader

warnings: descriptions of movie violence, light swearing

words: 4.241

a/n: I’m back with a new imagine, like I promised (yay!). This one’s halloween themed and it mentions a movie i haven’t actually seen so sorry for inaccuracies (I’m a huge coward when it comes to horror movies whoops). Hope you like it :)

When Ethan invited you over for movie night you expected … well, you didn’t expect this.

After going out for coffee twice and for dinner once, a movie night was the usual next step. You weren’t sure what he expected from this evening, you just hoped there would be no candles or roses or any of that kind. You’d had that once before, the guy went totally overboard and fully expected you to be so swept away by it that you’d sleep with him. Needless to say that particular relationship didn’t work out so well.

With Ethan things had gone well up to this point. He was quite contradictory, drawing you in more and more with each unexpected layer revealed. Ethan was funny and loud, but also much more thoughtful than he’d let on at first. In the beginning he’d been confident but curiously enough his confidence seemed to diminish with every new meeting. He put his foot in his mouth so often you’d lost count, in effect making you relax around him so quickly, by the second coffee date you’d forgotten to keep up the façade you usually keep up during the early dating phase.

So. You aren’t sure what exactly you’d expected this movie night to be like, just hoped it wouldn’t go horribly wrong but to be fair, you have enough faith in Ethan by now for that to be a fairly slim possibility.

When you turn up at his door and he opens with a smile, you’re distracted by your thoughts of how he kissed you short and sweet when you arrived at the restaurant last week. When he’d dropped you off afterwards he hadn’t made another move, he had made the first step and it had been your turn. You remember how clumsy your hands felt in the dark of the car as you reached for him, the door already opened because you’d almost chickened out. Your fingers had found the lapels of his jacket and you’d tugged, leaning forward slightly – and luckily that had been enough to get the message across. Ethan had followed your tug easily, his nose brushing against yours for a second and then there had been his lips on yours. Well, first you’d almost missed, but he’d adjusted himself minutely and then his mouth fit yours perfectly.

His lips had been softer than you’d expected them to be, all plush warmth moulding against your mouth. You’d lingered for another second and he’d pulled back a few centimetres, teeth shimmering in the darkness when you automatically chased after him. Your hands had slipped around his collar and the soft curls at the back of his neck had tickled the tips of your fingers. He’d kissed you again then, less gentle this time, pushing just enough to make your grip in his hair tighten. Your gasp had been loud in the quiet of the night around you.

Your fingertips prickle with the memory of how his hair had curled around them, silky soft, warm skin just underneath. Ethan can’t read your mind, though, thank God, and you don’t blush that easily, so he shouldn’t be able to guess what you’re thinking of when he gestures for you to come inside.

When the door clicks shut behind Ethan, you turn around to him and two fingers hold your chin up as he ducks down to kiss the corner of your mouth. He lingers for a second and you can actually feel his smile against your skin. “Hi.”

“Hey”, you reply, your voice quieter than you’d aimed for. “I brought popcorn.”

He steps back to examine the microwaveable popcorn you’re holding up. “Perfect. Then there might be enough snacks for the both of us.”

He plucks the popcorn out of your hand and waves for you to follow him into a kitchen area. Behind the counter you can see a huge couch facing a big screen on the wall. On the coffee table before the couch are bags of potato chips, various nuts and a few bottles of coke. No candles – or roses, for that matter. Phew. Good sign.

Ethan instructs the microwave to make your popcorn and turns back to you, leaning backwards against the counter. He’s wearing loose fitting jeans that are cuffed at the ankles, a grey t-shirt that has a rip at the collar and reveals a hint of his collarbone, and his feet are bare. His hair looks even more curly than usual and you suspect he showered earlier.

“So”, he says, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest.

“So?”, you ask, unsure what he means. Aside from the popcorn you didn’t bring anything, since you have no intention to stay over. You still took maybe a bit too long to piece your ‘looking my best but oh so casual’ outfit. Trying to look as good as you can for this boy with the kind eyes and a smile that could power all of LA at night, is no crime after all.

“I thought we could watch Halloween, since it’s season appropriate and all that”, he goes on. The popcorn starts popping simultaneously with your heart sinking. Damn. That sounds like a horror movie, doesn’t it. “Assuming you like scary movies”, Ethan says, his smile now more than just a hint.

“Hate them, actually”, you mumble.

He laughs and shakes your head at you. “Funny.”

Uh-oh. This is not good. Are you really that sarcastic that he doesn’t realize when you’re being serious? You’re not good with horror movies. It’s not the violence or blood or anything like that, it’s the fucking tension that gets you every time. The music (or lack thereof) is the scariest thing ever and you usually turn off the sound when a scene gets too scary – meaning, you’re using subtitles whenever you watch anything even remotely scary. Goddammit, why did you let Ethan pick the movie? He’d told you he liked scary movies, how could you be so stupid? You should probably tell him you weren’t joking before this gets too awkward …

The thing is, maybe Ethan could have a field day with you scared shitless and hiding in his shirt or some other romantic-comedy-trope. But he won’t, because you’re not like all those pretty girls in said movies. You don’t get scared and hide, nope, you start talking. Talking all over tense, scary scenes is the only way you can endure such a movie, which of course completely ruins the experience. Maybe you could try and shut up this time ... ?

Ethan beams at you and starts rummaging through the cupboards presumably in search of a bowl for the popcorn. “I thought about Saw for a moment, but then that’s not really scary, just gory and gross. If you don’t like Halloween we could also watch The Conjuring, just so you know, but I thought Halloween fits October better.”

Oh god, no. You’ve heard of the Conjuring and it’s supposed to be maybe the scariest recent horror movie. Halloween doesn’t really ring a bell so it could be okay. It’s got to be okay. Somehow. It’s too late now to tell him you were being serious, isn’t it? Fuck.

Ethan finds the bowl just in time for the microwave to finish making the popcorn pop. The smell fills the kitchen, automatically reminding you of movie theatres and wide, comfy seats. Ethan curses when he burns his finger as he opens the bag and shakes the popcorn into the bowl, and you watch his shoulders shift under the fabric of his shirt. The dark chocolate colour of his hair looks even creamier in contrast to the light grey of his t-shirt, and your hands itch to pull the collar down just an inch and press your lips to the bronze skin of his nape.

“Let’s go”, he pulls you out of your fantasy and you follow after him to the couch, where he plops down and watches you totally inconspicuously out of the corner of his eyes. You hesitate for a second, then you grab the blanket that is laid over the part of the couch that’s farthest away from him. You’re almost sure you can see him deflate, but you carry the blanket with you and sit down next to him. You scoot back as far as you can until you’re with your back against the cushion and your thigh alongside his. This time you’re absolutely sure you can see him smile, even though he keeps his face turned away.

“Salt or paprika?”, he questions and opens the salt potato chips when you point at them. He hands you the bag and you’re pathetically glad to have something to hold onto. Then he fills your glasses with coke, grabs the remote and leans back, the bowl of warm popcorn on his lap. With a smile to you he presses play and settles against the cushions, one arm on the backrest behind you, the other one shovelling popcorn into his mouth, eyes trained on the screen. In any other situation you would be amused or even charmed, maybe thinking about when the right time to cuddle against him might be, but as it is your heart is still somewhere around your knees and you stare at the screen, accepting your fate and waiting for the first scare to make you hate your life.

It starts slow, which is good since you don’t feel the need to break any tension a scary scene might create. On the other hand it makes you tense up more and more, as you wait for it to go from creepy to full on scary. In an effort to keep Ethan oblivious to your tension, you shift around a lot in order to loosen up your muscles before they start cramping. It’s barely fifteen minutes into the movie and you’ve already eaten half the bag of chips out of pure nervousness. At least Ethan doesn’t seem to mind your continuous shifting. He pulls his legs up and crosses them Indian style, leans back a little more, and readjusts his arm behind you so it forms a warm, solid weight just along your shoulders. You manage to slide down a bit until his arm is at your nape and you can rest your head on it, by masking it like you’re just snuggling further under your blanket. He doesn’t miss a beat and immediately turns his hand until he can play distractedly with your hair.

You would enjoy this at least four hundred percent more, had the movie not started to play a crazily tense piano riff that makes your spine feel like an icicle. The murderer is close but you can’t look at the screen, instead you focus on the coffee table before you. The light from the screen is flickering over it and you realize the rest of the room is completely dark. Immediately you fight the urge to look behind you and check there’s no one coming at you with a huge ass kitchen knife. Shit.

No talking, this is a movie night. You have to remind yourself to keep your mouth shut, but the music is so tense you can’t feel your toes anymore. Your lower lip starts going numb from the way you’re biting it, to keep all the stupid words from bubbling right out of your mouth. Your hand trembles a bit where it is closed tightly around the bag of chips and you almost jump when it crinkles noisily. Ethan doesn’t react, his eyes locked on the screen you can’t even glance at, but the noise gave you an idea: you start shoving chips into your mouth and making the bag crinkle and rustle as loud as you can to drown out the creepy piano-sound.

You’re so focused on the crinkling noise, you don’t realize immediately when the scene changes (someone died messily, now the murderer needs a break). When there’s a hand tugging on the bag, you jump slightly, and when you look up Ethan has one eyebrow lifted at you, half a smile on his lips. “You wanna swap?”

He nods to the bowl of popcorn in his lap, and this time you flush a bit. You shrug and nod. “Sure.”

Popcorn isn’t noisy. Popcorn can’t distract you from anything. Ethan just took away your last resort. Shit. You take the bowl and grip it tight enough to hide the slight tremble in your hands. Ethan’s hand at the back of your head stops playing with the ends of your hair and cups your nape, as though to calm you down. His hand is so big, if he tried his fingers could probably reach his thumb. As it is his thumb just strokes up and down behind your ear, the sensitive, thin skin there positively on fire. The rest of his fingers are a warm, anchoring weight – luckily far enough away from your pulse, otherwise he could definitely feel your heart racing with the strange mixture of fear (of the movie) and attraction (to him).

You’re good for the most part of the movie, you would say. You don’t rustle with anything – and Ethan, sadly, doesn’t either. In fact, Ethan is so drawn into the tense (horrifying) scenes that he doesn’t notice you focusing hard enough on your blanket to burn a hole through it, whenever that damned piano starts up again.

But then the ineviteble showdown happens.

And looking at the dark folds of soft fabric in your lap isn’t enough anymore, closing your eyes never helps as it makes you even more susceptible to any sounds. Ethan’s hand has stopped moving and when you look up he is even leaning forward a bit, concentrated wholly on what’s happening on screen. The piano dies down and the killer stops pursuing his last victim, who is trying to hide. The camera shows you where the masked maniac with the knife waits for her. Your throat is too dry. You hate this. You can’t even express how much you hate this. This is terrible. You. Hate. This. You want to turn it off and punch Ethan for making you watch this far, you want to turn off the sound and put on something ridiculous like ‘Yellow Submarine’ or something, so this will look ridiculous instead of scaring the living lights out of you. Fucking Ethan.

The last victim is close to the killer now. Her breathing is loud. There is his face again in that horrible mask. Right. Fuck this.

“You know a knife is actually really stupid as a weapon for a mass-murderer”, you can hear yourself saying right into the tense silence when the girl on screen searches the room for the killer while he’s really right behind her and lifting his arm to kill her. You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so thankful for the disruption your voice creates. “A gun or something would be so much quicker, and less messy if you think about it. He could use a silencer, so it would be almost as silent as the knife. People die quicker, too, if you hit them right, so really using a knife doesn’t make any sense from a logical point of view, right?”

Ethan is frowning. He throws you an irritated look and hums in agreement or not, you can’t say. You also don’t care. That bloody piano has started up again. “Of course, a gun is so much less dramatic than a ridiculously huge knife. I get why they would do that, but still it just seems stupid to m— oh, c’mon, he didn’t even really hit her, look at how much blood that is! Wow, now that is dramatic. It looks like a fountain.” Your snort doesn’t sound half as nervous as you feel. Since you started talking you feel so much better, though, your heart has even risen from its position at your knees to somewhere around your stomach area so it’s almost at the right spot again. “My god, that poor actress. She probably had a sore throat after they shot that, I don’t even want to know how often they made her scream like that. It’s kinda funny, though, don’t you – “

“What … “, Ethan turns abruptly to you, his forehead is furrowed in irritation and, shit, okay, you’re annoying him. You didn’t force him to watch a fucking horror movie with you, it’s his own fault, a tiny voice whispers in the back of your head. The girl on screen gurgles, blood still spurting impressively far from her wound, and it sounds like someone is blowing bubbles in a glass of water. “What’s the matter with you? Could you, like, maybe tell me all this, y’know, afterwards? This is … it’s the finale.” He points at the screen and his annoyed look turns into genuine confusion. “This is what the whole movie built up to. Why would you … “

Great. Now you really feel bad. This was a bad idea. You ruined it. This is not how you expected ‘movie night’ to go. “... I’m sorry.”

Ethan pauses the movie and leans back with a sigh. The arm on the backrest behind you is gone as he rubs his wrist over his forehead and stares up at the ceiling. You pull the blanket tighter around yourself. You should probably go.

“It’s, uh, okay.” He shakes his head at the ceiling and just when you make to get up, he turns his head around to look at you. His brows are still drawn together and he tries for a confused half-smile. “Do you … usually talk through movies?”

“No”, you mumble and pick at the blanket. You’re sorry and you feel awkward and annoyed, at him for making you watch this, at yourself because you didn’t have the balls to just tell him you really hated horror movies.

“Then what? If it was boring, you could’ve just said so, you know?”, Ethan shrugs and looks back at the screen. “If you want we can watch The Conjuring afterwards? I didn’t mean to bore you, after all.”

“No!” You said it a bit too loud and a lot too quickly, and he definitely noticed, you can tell from the way he stares at you questioningly. “No, I – it wasn’t. It wasn’t boring, Ethan”, you stammer, cringing inwardly about the way you’re fumbling for words.

“Sure seemed like it”, he mumbles, sounding almost a bit sulky now.

“I have never seen this movie, how can it bore me?”, you ask and glance at the paused screen again. It shows some blurry, dark forest or something.

Ethan’s frown has only deepened when you look back at him. “Well then … why … would you ... ?“ You can tell the exact moment he realizes, his eyes widening slightly and his mouth dropping open slowly as he stares at you in doubt. You’re actually blushing now and you can’t meet his eyes, too awkward does all this feel, and you start fidgeting with the blanket again. “Don’t tell me – you were being serious? You hate horror movies?”

You shrug, stubbornly keeping your eyes down. “Yeah? So?”

“I – why didn’t you tell me you weren’t joking?” You can feel him gesturing, but refuse to look up. “You watched the whole entire thing, although you hate scary movies!“

“It’s not that they’re scary”, you grumble into your lap. “They’re … I don’t know, I just hate the music, okay? That shit is just creepy and I can never forget it. I’ll probably think about this damned piano for the next half year whenever I need to go to the basement or through a dark parking space or something stupid.” You pick at a loose thread, embarrassment high in your throat. “’s just stupid…”

Ethan doesn’t say anything long enough for you to finally look up and when you do, his face is a mixture of amusement, sympathy, and ‘aww’. Great. Now you really want to punch him.

“Horror movies scare you?”, he repeats and it’s not funny, it’s patronizing and he’s being a dick and … okay, it maybe is a bit funny.

You shove against his chest and bite the inside of your cheek to hide your embarrassed smile. “Shut up.”

Instead of giving you space Ethan leans forward, closer to you, and repeats with a lopsided smile: “Horror movies … scare you?”

“Ethan”, you whine and scowl at him instead of pushing him away again. He grins even wider and unfurls his long legs to get up on his knees. He positions his hands on either side of you and is now close enough for his curls to tickle your forehead. He smells like shampoo and fabric softener and you just want to sink your fingers into his hair and make him shut up.

“Horror movies actually scare you?”

You groan and throw your hands up in frustration. “Stop it.”

Ethan bites his lower lip, which doesn’t help hiding his smile one bit, and when you try and lean away to get some more space between you and him, you lose your balance and just sort of slide into a half-sitting, half-lying position against the backrest. Ethan blinks down at you, surprised for a second, then chuckles and bends down further until his forehead rests against yours, effectively pinning you where you are. His arms are caging you in, one of his knees is between yours and the blanket has fallen to somewhere by your hips. Your hands want to touch and feel and haul him in so much, you have to curl them in the cushions by your side. Not like this. He doesn’t deserve you wanting him, when he’s behaving like this.

“Okay”, he says, hot breath hitting your lips and you lick them instinctively. There is nothing apologetic to be found in his eyes. “Then let me paraphrase it: could it be you’re afraid of horror movies?”

You give up. “You’re such an asshole.”

Before he can think of some clever retort, you lift up the few centimetres to his mouth and finally he shuts up. Ethan keeps his position for a few seconds, then bends his arms until he’s resting on his elbows, left and right to your head. His mouth moves against yours and he tastes like popcorn. Your head is swirling and you almost feel drunk as your hands are finally allowed to touch. One slips straight into the curly hair at his nape, taking a hold and tugging lightly. The other one grips the soft fabric of his shirt, where it is falling loosely around his hips. His weight is pushing you down into the couch, until you feel like you’re going to sink fully into, with him covering you head to toe. His breath is hot in your mouth, his taste sweet on your tongue, his smell filling up your nostrils and making your head spin, and he is a heavy weight resting between your legs, all solid, warm skin, muscle, and bones pressed up against you until you feel like you can’t breathe.

“What d’you want to do now?”, he finally asks, breathless and with quite pink cheeks, a few seconds or maybe an eternity later, you really can’t tell. You know exactly what he’s aiming for, and exactly what you want right now. But he was being an asshole and just because he knows how to get what he wants, doesn’t mean this is the right time to give him precisely that.

So you arch your back a little, loosen your hold on his hair to draw your finger along the line of his jaw, and rub your thumb over the sliver of naked skin between his t-shirt and jeans. His mouth curls into a smirk.

“Ethan”, you sigh and cover his lips with yours, pushing hard enough for him to lean up and away, but gentle enough for it not to hurt.

When you’re both in an upright position you lean back a little. “Hm?”, he hums.

“I want to watch a good movie now”, you whisper, fighting down a smile.

It takes him a few seconds. “Ye – oh.”

His whole face falls and you can’t help but burst out in laughter at his disappointment. It’s his turn to look sheepish now.

“Your … face … “, you gasp laughing, and it only makes you giggle harder when he tries for a serious, unamused expression.

“What did you have in mind then?”, he tries to distract you and reaches for the remote again. You’re still laughing and when you sag forward to rest your head against his shoulder and continue to laugh, he doesn’t shrug you off.

“You’re easy”, you chuckle into his sleeve and sit up again when he grumbles in response. There is a smile playing over his lips and he’s shaking his head, like he’s trying to reprimand you.

“You’re mean”, he shoots back and you only shrug. “So. What’s it gonna be?”

“Inception”, you decide on a whim. Ethan hums in agreement and you pull up your blanket again and lean fully against him as soon as the first notes of the soundtrack start playing. He curls his arm around you again, only much more confident this time, and if his hand rests a bit too high on your thigh and he starts pressing his lips to your neck halfway through the movie, who cares?

my Masterlist

#dolan twins imagine #ethan dolan imagine #ethan dolan x reader #halloween #movie violence warning #making out #snogging #whatever you want to call it #teasing #horror movies #scared reader #light swearing

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ponacopuck · 7 years ago

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A Leap Towards Silliness: A Dragon Age Fanfic

Notes: wow has it been a VERY long time since I’ve written anything. I come offering some Dorian/Rawley fluff this fine evening. Enjoy!

Dorian hated the Hissing Wastes. Even the glorious heat of the day couldn’t make up for the traitorous dip in the temperature come nightfall, the local wildlife intent on murdering their entire company, and the sand. Oh, how he loathed that horrible sand. It filled his boots and wiggled into every fold and crevice of his clothing. The coarse, persistent granules stung his eyes, crunched between his teeth and found their way into places better left un-sanded. He hated the Hissing Wastes.

The Inquisition forces set up a tiny city of tents amongst the dunes. A group of researchers squabbled with increasingly louder voices over a pile of dusty scrolls and ancient dwarven artifacts. Dorian itched to take part in the lively argument. Enthusiastic academic discussion was not exactly easy to come by in the middle of the endless desert. Academic discussion on a topic of which he was knowledgeable even more difficult to find it seemed after quietly sitting among spirited argument over the proper storage of ancient Dwarven earthenware.

His thoughts wandered, as they seemed most likely as of late, to the Inquisitor. Trevelyan didn’t seem to hate the Hissing Wastes as Dorian did. In fact, it appeared quite the opposite. He marveled at the Dwarven ruins atop the dunes and set his dracolisk to full speed across the never ending sand. The horrible beast would bellow and trumpet his disdain for the uneven ground, but was not the kind of creature to back down from a challenge. The memory of Rawley’s grinning face upturned towards the harsh midday sun set Dorian’s stomach into a pleasant squirm he would never admit to. When his gaze was detected and the smile turned in his direction the squirm sent a rush of fire coursing through his entire body. It was becoming increasingly difficult to remain cool and aloof in his presence.

Dorian did his best to search the campsite for him without looking as though that was his precise intent. The line for dinner trickled down to a few stragglers and scouts returning from their posts. He followed the raucous sounds of revelry that would undoubtedly lead to the Chargers. If Rawley was not to be found by the food tent it was a safe bet that he would be seated with the rowdy group of mercenaries; grinning at Bull’s horrible jokes or listening wide-eyed to their tales of epic battles and close calls. A frown that bordered dangerously towards a pout settled on Dorian’s lips as the Charger’s campfire appeared free of a certain young mage.

“He’s up on the ridge.”

Dorian did not have to turn and look at Varric to know the dwarf was smirking. The slight lilt to his words, said in that infuriating way that suggested he knew better than everyone else in the room. Dorian was not overly fond of being wrong or losing at any sort of game, imagined or otherwise. He turned, nose raised in the air and his hand at the ready to wave dismissively at any further comments.

“I’m sorry, are you speaking to me?” he asked, bristling at the smug laugh his attempt at nonchalant garnered.

“Yes, Sparkler,” Varric replied around another gruff chuckle. “You trying to tell me you’re not prowling about for our beloved Inquisitor? If not your choice of his usual haunts is quite the coincidence.”

“I was not prowling,” Dorian hissed, warmth spreading in a treacherous path across his face.

He was not one to blush. If pressed he would blame the rise in color on the remaining heat of the day. Judging by the smirk on Varric’s face he wouldn’t believe him.

“Right, of course, an honest mistake,” Varric said. He let out another infuriating chuckle and lifted his hands in defense.

Dorian huffed through his nose, his mounting desire to find Rawley quickly outweighing any flicker of pride clinging to his thoughts. “So…on the ridge you say?” he said, adding a dismissive wave of his hand as though he wasn’t hanging on the dwarf’s every word.

To his credit Varric didn’t prolong his teasing. He was known to give comrades a hard time, but he was never one for open cruelty. “Under the statue to the west.”

Dorian fought the urge to turn immediately in the offered direction and instead managed a small bow of gratitude. “I think perhaps I will see if the Inquisitor…needs anything.” He turned on his heel before another blush could betray him. The sand crunched beneath his boots, every new step proving more difficult as the incline steepened. Noise from the camp faded into the endless expanse of the sky above and a pale green veil fire beneath the looming stone giant marked his destination. The mere thought of who sat waiting beneath that statue sent a flutter through his chest and caused an unabashed smile to spread across his face. It wasn’t so long ago that he would chide himself for such a reaction. It was silly and dangerous to give into flights of fancy, to let another occupy his thoughts so completely. There was a time he would curse such thoughts and force them from his mind. He felt as though that was a life time ago.

“Dorian.”

He was certain he would never tire of hearing his name spoken in such a way. A warm smile followed the Inquisitor’s excited tone, the green tint of the veil fire casting dancing shadows over his face. Rawley sat beneath the torch, atop a patchwork quilt, a large book spread across his lap. He set the book aside and moved over to make room for another beside him on the quilt.

“I was hoping you’d find your way up here,” he said, dusting off as much sand from the fabric as he could manage. “I know you were busy with the researchers.”

“I must admit their topic of debate was not concerning one of my areas of expertise,” Dorian replied. “And if your hope was to be found you may have chosen a more conspicuous location.”

He flicked out the bottom of his robes and made a show of sitting down beside him, keenly aware that a pair of fetching green eyes watched his every move. He smoothed out his robes and reached for the discarded book. Dorian’s curiosity could not be quelled even if he was placing the majority of his energy into appearing alluring.

“Taken up a new interest in astronomy have you?” he asked, running his fingers over the faded page covered in star charts.

“I wouldn’t say it’s a new interest,” Rawley replied, pressing up against Dorian to follow his course across the chart. “I’ve always loved the stars,” he said, leaning back on his palms as he turned his face towards the sky. “And have you ever seen so many in all your life? Beautiful.”

Dorian hated the Hissing Wastes. He hated the sand and the endless stretch of horizon that grew no closer no matter how many times you crossed it. Despite this deep-held animosity he felt a certain amount of gratitude for any place that could place such a look of awe on the Inquisitor’s face.

“Yes…beautiful,” Dorian murmured, never lifting his gaze towards the sky.

“I used to track them from the tower at the Circle,” Rawley said, his voice small in the great expanse. “The lights from Ostwick dulled most of them, but I would try and remember the sky at my family’s estate outside the city. Those were the same stars.”

There was a quiet sadness in his words. A melancholy gained only in loss. Dorian reached for his hand. Such a simple gesture and yet it set his heart racing. Eager fingers laced with his, warm and strong against his skin. Faces tilted towards the sky Dorian’s heart raced for another reason as Rawley gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t speak of it much,” Dorian said. “Your home, your family.”

“Ostwick hasn’t been my home since the day they took me to the Circle,” Rawley replied, a small shrug raising his shoulders. Sadness clung to his words with icy, persistent fingers; the weight of it faltering slightly under the glimmer of hope in his eyes. “But Skyhold is starting to feel like one. Don’t you think?”

“That’s awfully sentimental of you,” Dorian said, instantly regretting the flippant remark as Rawley’s face fell in response.

“I…it’s nice to have somewhere to go back to, is what I meant,” he murmured. “With the people I care about.”

The warmth in Dorian’s chest rushed from his body as he felt the fingers laced with his slip away. He curled his fingers into the quilt beneath them, the sand underneath shifting and sliding along the fabric. Sentimentality was something in his past that always came veiled in sarcasm. It more often than not accompanied an expert roll of the eyes and equally biting reply. Earnestness was an entirely different creature altogether. One he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around. He wasn’t beyond trying. Especially if it meant banishing the hurt expression now firmly etched on the Inquisitor’s face.

“It is nice,” Dorian said, doing his best to sound sincere in his own right.

He reached up with careful fingers to frame Rawley’s face. His skin was warm to the touch as it ever was; fire masked under flesh and bone. He longed to be near it. To forever bask in the glow of it. A kiss pressed to slightly parted lips, chaste by most accounts, set Dorian’s heart fluttering once more. It was terrifying in its innocence; sharp and clear like his first kiss all those years ago in Tevinter.

“To have someone to come home to.”

Dorian whispered the words into the expanse. The great blanket of stars above seemed to suffocate them in those few terrible moments when they went unanswered; hanging like spirits under the night sky. He sighed into another kiss, this one more urgent than the last. Lips parted eagerly to the slide of his tongue. He pulled Rawley towards him, his fingers sliding through his hair as his heart drummed an ever increasing rhythm in his chest. His heart threatening to skip a beat at the whispered reply from the man beside him.

“You always will.”

#Dorian pavus #dragon age inquisition #dorian/inquisitor #Rawley Trevelyan #Rawley/Dorian #i have some far less innocent ficlettes with these two just waiting to be finished #some serious smut #no really #super smutty

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sariasprincy · 8 years ago

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The Choices We Make

It was supposed to be fluff and ended in so much angst. I’m sorry…we’re only getting started.

The Choices We Make MadaSaku Part one

With trembling hands, Sakura slowly lowered herself onto the bathroom floor before her knees gave out on her. She exhaled shakily, no longer sure if the churning of her stomach was from what she had just learned or rather the morning sickness she suspected she had been experiencing for a few days now. Most likely a little of both.

It felt unreal. She had thought she had just been pushing herself too hard and not taking care of herself again as the hospital once more became overrun with injured shinobi. With summer about to be in full swing, the number of missions always increased as small cities bordering their country requested the assistance of their ninja. Never once had she considered the possibility of being pregnant. Not until Shizune had teased her the night before when she walked into their shared office to find Sakura demolishing an entire box of donuts by herself.

Sakura would have taken a test right then if not for the fact an entire squadron had been rushed into the ER from an ambush. The women had spent the whole night fighting for the lives of their comrades and while Shizune had chosen to celebrate their victory by catching up on some sleep, Sakura had slipped away to the bathroom.

Another rush of emotion swelled in her chest as she pulled the test from the counter to hold it at eye level. There was no mistaking the double blue line that told her she was expecting, but there was no relief or happiness. Only aching anxiety of what she would do now.

Pressing a hand to the base of her throat, Sakura closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, no longer able to stare at the plastic stick. How the hell did this happen?

Well, she knew how it happened, but how did it happen?

Sakura didn’t need an exam to tell her how far along she was. She already knew she was approaching her sixth week as it had been that long since the last time she’d been with anyone. She tried not to recall that night, but it was hard not to now that she was facing the consequences.

A coded scroll had come in from Suna. Normally Shikamaru was their go-to cryptographer, but with him being out of the village on a mission, the Hokage had asked for Madara, the Head of the Uchiha Clan, and Sakura herself. Having worked with the older male on multiple occasions and even once healing some nasty wounds from a hard-won battle, they had worked together comfortably, their intelligence and intellect easily melting together.

Until they deciphered the letter to find it was from Temari detailing Suna’s plan to protect itself from the ever-growing threat from the Village Hidden in Valleys. Attached had been a second page they would later learn after decoding it was a very personal note for Shikamaru, describing in far more detail than Sakura ever needed to hear exactly what the Sand kunoichi would do to him the next time she came for a visit.

Her conversation with the Uchiha Head had turned more brazen and flirtatious after that. Somehow, they had ended up half-naked as Madara took her on the very counter they had been hunched over only minutes before with her thighs around his hips and his arms caging her in as their mouths kissed every inch of skin they could reach.

It had been a one-time thing. They had parted ways and never spoken of the matter again, even on the occasion when they shared tea and perhaps a meal. Sakura hadn’t regretted their night together. Until now.

Again, the question of what she would do crossed her mind. She needed to tell Madara. But she didn’t want to tell him. With his status, it was all very complicated and things could get very political very quickly. She would have to calculate and consider everything very carefully before she did anything.

But not right now. Right now, all she wanted was to go home, sit on the couch, eat a tub of ice cream while she cried and take a nap. All in that order.

And that’s just what she did. Except after Sakura kicked off her shoes and made a beeline to her freezer, she realized she didn’t have any ice cream. Or any food in her fridge at all that hadn’t already expired. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes and she slammed the door closed before she wiped at her face furiously.

Sakura would not allow herself to be overcome with emotion. She was a strong kunoichi, in every sense of the word. She had trained under the Godaime herself, she was the first person in the village to kill a member of Akatsuki, she had mastered the Yin Seal and she…and she had gotten herself pregnant with Uchiha Madara’s child.

Sakura promptly burst into tears again. Through blurry eyes, she found her way to her couch and unceremoniously plopped down onto the cushions before she buried her face in her hands. She didn’t know how long she cried as she curled into herself but eventually the tears stopped as she drifted off, her body and mind in need of rest.

It was unclear how much time had passed before Sakura roused again. She woke groggily, her bones like heavy stones and her eyes itchy and puffy. She felt no better emotional or physically than before her nap, and she was content to just roll over into a more comfortable position and fall back into the blissfulness that was sleep when she realized she wasn’t alone.

Slowly Sakura rolled over to face her quiet visitor, already having recognized his chakra. Though what he was doing in her little living space, she had no idea.

Kakashi.

He was sitting in her armchair, the one she frequented often while reading through medical textbooks and journals, his feet propped up on the corner of her coffee table and his familiar, orange book in hand. Some moments passed, the silence broken only by the soft rustling of a turning page, before Sakura finally pushed herself up, aware Kakashi would not have stayed if he hadn’t a reason.

After rubbing a hand over her swollen eyes, Sakura peered at her old sensei. He was dressed as usual in his black, shinobi pants and three-quarter sleeve shirt while his mask and forehead protector covered the majority of his face. His boots were absent, left next to the door by her own, as was his Jounin vest but otherwise he looked no different than he normally did. She eyed him tiredly. He didn’t look injured. So what did he want?

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Her voice was quiet but raw and rough from her earlier release of emotion. If her face hadn’t yet given away the fact she had been crying, her voice definitely had but she made no move to cover it up. Kakashi had been a part of her life for over ten years; he had probably noticed something was wrong the moment he walked through her door - or snuck in her window. She hoped that wasn’t why he stayed.

“Whenever I’m late, I always like to think of an excuse before I meet with the person,” Kakashi said without lowering his book. “However, since I didn’t give you the opportunity, allow me to offer you some. ‘Lost on the path of life’ is always a personal favorite of mine. As is ‘A black cat crossed my path, you see, so I had to take the long way around.’ They’re both very good so please feel free to take your pick.”

Confused, Sakura’s brows furrowed as she shook her head slowly. “What’re you talking about?”

This time Kakashi did lower his book to peer at her with his visible, dark eye. He studied her a moment before he sighed. “It appears you’ve forgotten about your poor, old sensei. We were supposed to meet to spar three hours ago.”

Her expression remained unchanged until a vague memory resurfaced of her agreeing to meet him just before noon before getting a quick lunch. In all that had happened that morning, Sakura had completely forgotten and she let out a low groan as she pressed her palms to her eyes before she dragged her hands down her face.

“I’m so sorry. A squad was ambushed late last night and I…” Sakura trailed off as she recalled the little, white stick she had thrown into the back of the deepest drawer of her desk. Tears filled the corners of her eyes, but she swallowed thickly and blinked them back. “A lot just happened this morning and it slipped my mind.”

“I see,” Kakashi murmured. “Are you alright?”

The quiet concern coloring his tone immediately brought her tears back with renewed vengeance and a few escaped down her face before she was able to wipe them away. “No,” she said shakily. “I mean yes, but I…I don’t know.”

He stared at her perplexed. “Okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

Sakura’s immediate reaction was to shake her head and keep it all bottled up, but she trusted Kakashi and she knew if there was one person she could talk to about her situation, it was him. Her old sensei may be a little dorky and a lot of a pervert, but when it came to personal affairs, he could be trusted with even the darkest of secrets. She took a breath as she prepared herself for what she was about to reveal.

“You’ve fucked up before.”

Kakashi blinked. “Thanks…I think?”

“No,” she corrected. “I mean, you know what it’s like to make a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake.”

His confusion was evident even behind his mask, but he nodded slowly nonetheless. “I have. More times than I care to count.”

His honest admission gave her some reassurance but she still hesitated before finally saying the words she hadn’t yet admitted to anyone: “I slept with Madara.”

“Last night? How…?” Kakashi asked. “Wait, was this before or after the ambushed squad.”

“No. It was a month and a half ago.”

“Oh,” he murmured. But he was always excellent at reading ‘underneath the underneath’ and his eye widened. “Oh.”

Automatically his gaze dropped to her stomach and she looked away as her eyes filled with tears again. The room lapsed into silence with the exception of her soft sniffling and Kakashi waited for her to regain most of her composure before gently prodding, “Are you two…is he courting you?”

A hollow laugh escaped her as she wiped the dampness from her eyes. Her mascara from the night before stained her fingers and she let out a soft curse as she attempted to wipe the black smears onto her shorts. She looked up when she suddenly found Kakashi standing next to her, a tissue in his hand, and she murmured a quiet thanks as she accepted it from him.

“No,” Sakura finally answered as she cleaned her face. “It was a one-night…thing.”

“Were you drunk?”

She looked at him sharply as he settled himself beside her. “Why do you ask?”

Kakashi merely shrugged unapologetically. “I’m not judging you. Uchiha Madara’s kinda known for being an ass. I’m just surprised you’d do him. Willingly.”

It was a moment before her glare faded. “It just sorta happened.”

“It always does,” he muttered quietly. Then louder he added, “Are you going to tell him?”

“I don’t know. I mean, what will happen if I do?” she asked. “He’s the Head of the Uchiha Clan. Am I going to have to marry him?”

Kakashi shot her a mildly amused look. “You’re the Godaime’s apprentice, Sakura. She would kill Madara before she allowed anyone to force you into a marriage with him.”

His light teasing caused a small smile to caress her lips but it quickly faded. “Still, this child is half-Uchiha. You know they’re not going to let me raise it on my own. They’ll want to train them as a shinobi, whether it’s what me or the baby wants.”

“Then will you terminate?”

His question hung in the air like a physical weight. She had already considered the option but just like the time before, she felt her throat close up and her heart ached behind her ribs at the thought. Sakura had always wanted children - at least one girl - but she hadn’t planned for one this early in her career and she didn’t know if she was ready for one yet.

“I don’t know,” she eventually whispered. “There’s a lot to consider.”

Next to her Kakashi nodded, fully aware that the decision she was to make was hers and hers alone. “Well you don’t need to decide right now,” he told her. “Or even today or tomorrow. Just think about it. But you’ll need to decide before you start to show. You don’t want Madara to learn by rumor.”

She nodded but didn’t reply as she picked absently at her tissue. Kakashi rested a supportive hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze before he withdrew his touch. He was never one for physical contact but the simple gesture gave her some solace and the heavy burden on her shoulders felt lighter - if only a little.

“Do you need anything?” Kakashi finally asked.

Sakura pursed her lips together as her chin trembled slightly. “Ice cream.”

He blinked in surprise and opened his mouth, but his words seemed to fail him. She got the impression he was about to tell her that hadn’t been exactly what he meant but then his shoulders slackened and an amusement smile formed under his mask.

“What flavor?”

tbc…

#madasaku #madara #sakura #kakashi #a little #kakasaku #in this one #but it will be madasaku #this is what came out of the shitty month i had #so expect the next few chapters to rip your heart out #because that's the mood im in #-pouts-

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comic-movieheroesranked · 8 years ago

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Cinematic Comic Characters Ranked! (Year 2006) Final Part

Another list makes it’s debut! 2006 six was a slow year for comics with only the debut of V for Vendetta and Superman Returns, as well as the sequel X-Men: The Last Stand. Because of this I decided to add two movies from previous years the slipped passed my radar. From 2003 we had The Hulk and from 2004 we had The Punisher! Here’s the TOP 20!

*SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ALL MOVIES HIGHLIGHTED ABOVE*

20. Joan (The Punisher)

"Good memories can save your life."

The other new neighbor in Frank's life, she tries the most out of the three to break Frank out of his shell. She tries to get him to open up by talking about her own past, mainly her reputation with horrible men. After Frank deals with one of them I think she starts developing feelings for him, but I knew that nothing was going to happen because he still was mourning the death of his entire family, including his wife. Still, she's there for him and helps him in every way she can, like a good neighbor should.

19. Finch (V for Vendetta)

"One thing is true of all governments-their most reliable records are tax records."

Finch started out on Sutler's side, the Nose of the government aka the investigators. He was in charge of finding V and bringing him down. But the more he investigated, the he started to realize that his government is corrupt. Sure, V uses him like a pawn to help bring down Creedy and Sutler but he still understands what needs to happen, which is why he lets Evey trigger the train.

18. Kitty Pride/Shadowcat (X-Men: The Last Stand)

"Who's hiding? Dickhead!"

Kitty has been a cameo in the last two films and is finally a main member on the X-Men team. A love triangle starts between her, Bobby, and Rogue early in the film, which is mainly what her character arc is about throughout the movie until the final fight. She proves herself during the fight, taking on the Juggernaut herself and saving Leech from being killed by Magneto and the Brotherhood.

17. Jimmy Olsen (Superman Returns)

"Welcome back, Mr. Clark!"

Jimmy is such a nice guy and just someone you need around because his positive and often silly attitude is just the perfect way to lift someone's mood. He helps Clark adjust to his old life again, completely unaware that he's actually Superman. I'm surprised no one put both their returns together, honestly. He's the perfect sidekick and helps Clark out a lot, whether he's in a costume or not.

16. Deitrich (V for Vendetta)

"You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were underneath it."

A comedian that understands his government is a power-hungry dictatorship. Unlike V and his followers, Deitrich stands up to the government the only way he knows how, by mocking them on his show. However, this gets him beaten and taken away by the government and ends up executed for his 'betrayal' to Sutler and the government.

15. Charles Xavier/Professor X (X-Men: The Last Stand)

"And because the fate of many will depend on a few, we must make the last stand."

He was a father figure to many students at his school, including Jean. When she returns back to life, Xavier knows that the reason for it is because she's been possessed by the Phoenix. He tries his best to lock the Phoenix away in Jean's mind, causing doubt from Wolverine, but in the end the Phoenix is just too powerful and ends up obliterating his entire body. Xavier is able to transplant his mind into the body of his brain-dead twin brother, however, and manages to survive.

14. Jean Grey/Phoenix (X-Men: The Last Stand)

"Save Me."

Jean Grey is back from the dead and has become the Phoenix. In all honesty, the main plot should have been about the Phoenix destroying everything NOT everyone trying to protect/destroy the mutant cure. But even as a sub-plot, she showed she could be very dangerous. Right off the back she killed Cyclops and Professor X and in the final battle she kills hundreds of people and nearly destroys on entire island before Wolverine gets the real Jean to break through before she dies.

13. Richard White (Superman Returns)

"Were you in love with him?"

Richard is such a great guy. Like, SUCH a great guy, but you can tell that he just isn't the right guy. He's not to blame, of course, it's hard to compete with Superman but man did he try. He loves Lois, he raised Jason as if he was his own son, and he showed a lot of bravery flying that plane in the storm so I can see why Lois will try to work it out with him but I just don't see it being endgame with Superman back in the mix.

12. Bobby Drake/Iceman (X-Men: The Last Stand)

"We're not kids anymore."

I really liked Bobby in this movie, he ended up taking on a lot of responsibility. He's still very respectful and assuring with his relationship with Rogue, despite her doubts of him wanting to be with her. There's an obvious connection between him and Shadowcat but he doesn't pursue it at all, instead he's just there for her as a friend, which she clearly needs after Xavier dies. He also joins the X-Men team to fight off the Brotherhood, achieving his popular 'Ice Form' when he faces off against Pyro. At the end he still chooses to be with Rogue, even if he completely disagrees with her decision to take the cure.

11. Howard Saint (The Punisher)

"He's asking for help. So let's help him."

The man in charge of the biggest crime family in Florida, Howard Saint. He blames Castle for the death of his son and thinks he settles the score by killing him and his entire family. Too bad Frank doesn't stay dead. He comes back as The Punisher and slowly starts to destroy everything Howard holds sacred in the most brilliant way. Instead of doing it himself, he has Howard do most of his dirty work, letting his paranoia get the better of him as he kills Quentin and Livia, cuts ties with his other businesses, and basically drives him insane until everything he worked for goes up in flames. It isn't long after that Frank shows up and kills Howard once and for all, tying him up to the end of a car as it drives in a bunch of exploding vehicles.

10. Lois Lane (Superman Returns)

"Clark is...well...he's Clark."

I personally loved Lois Lane's journey in this movie. She was basically abandoned by Superman after falling in love with him and had to figure how to move on without him. Slight problem: she was pregnant with his kid! Still, despite all that, she really overcame her grief and climbed on top as one of the world's best reporters. Her career was flourishing and she was happy with Richard and Jason so naturally things had to get complicated with Superman's return. He brings back a lot of conflicting feelings Lois had dealt with years before and, even worse, also brings his enemies out of hiding. This puts Lois and Jason in danger, until she realizes Jason inherited Clark's powers and now has to include Superman (who she still doesn't know is Clark Kent) into her life so he could be a father to her child.

9. Ororo Munroe/Storm (X-Men: The Last Stand)

"Wherever we may go, we must carry on his vision. And that is a vision of a world united."

This is the closest we got to the Storm in this trilogy being as badass as the Storm in the comics. She shuts down any ignorant thoughts that claim mutants are a disease that need to be cured and finally has fight scenes where she proves just how badass she can be with her powers of weather manipulation. At the end of the film, after Xavier's passing, Storm now takes up leadership of the school and the X-Men team, having proven to being the most qualified to do so.

8. Valerie (V for Vendetta)

"With all my heart, I love you."

Valerie was my favorite character and I teared up hearing her story. Her whole life she fought for her right to love who she wants and when she found her partner, Sutler had to take over and ruin everything. Yet, despite losing the woman she loves, despite being taken herself and tortured to the point of death, she still finds it in herself to show her love to the inmate locked up next to her, V. He uses her note when he simulates torture on Evey, who is so touched she decides to keep the letter. Her unconditional love is what keeps both V and Evey alive and is what helps keep them fighting for justice.

7. Hank McCoy/Beast (X-Men: The Last Stand)

"Oh, my stars and garters."

Beast was the best newcomer to appear in the film. His diplomatic personalty was hilarious to see collide with Wolverine's bash and snarky one. He climbed his way up the political ladder to secure himself a position where he can fight for mutant rights, but finds himself returning back to the school once the threat of the cure and Magneto start to grow. During the final fight, the true beast comes out where he dishes out some kick ass combos against the Brotherhood and is the one who delivers the cure to Magneto, turning him human and ending the war.

6. Evey (V for Vendetta)

"But I will never forget the man and what he meant to me."

I could never understand why it took so long for Evey to join the cause. This was someone who saw her parents and her good friend get taken away for sticking up to a corrupt government, yet she still cowardly tried to save Lilliman- A CHILD RAPIST, I might add. She was frustrating to watch and as fucked up as it was for V to torture her like that, it truly did help her reach her full potential. Her rebirth scene in the rain was such a contrast to V's in the fire. While his represented hate and vengeance, hers represented truth and justice, something that was lost at the beginning of the film.

5. Clark Kent/Superman (Superman Returns)

"You will see my life through your eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father and the father becomes the son."

Honestly, I get why no one thinks Clark Kent and Superman are the same person. There's sucha huge change from Clark's clumsy personality to Superman's charming one. And let's face it, the world is abundant with guys with black hair and blue eyes. Still, I'm surprised no one noticed that they both mysteriously returned at the same time. It was great seeing the Man of Steel saving the day again, and he got really creative with his powers. X-raying the debris to dust before it landed on the civilians was pretty damn clever if you ask me. I'm surprised he didn't reveal his identity to Lois after finding out he's Jason's father, maybe they were going to save it for the sequel that never happened.

4. Erik/Magneto (X-Men: The Last Stand)

"Who will you stand with-the humans? Or us?"

One of the best villains in film, Magneto returns to ignite his ongoing war with the humans. It's hard to disagree with him when literally every bad point he has against humans is proven to be true literally two scenes later. He knows a huge war is coming and only stops his momentum briefly to mourn Xavier's death before recruiting the Phoenix as his ultimate weapon. Magneto shows his incredible power by ripping off an entire bridge off the ground as well as teaming up with Pyro to rain down blazing cars on his enemies. However, his failure to recognize Wolverine as a threat ends up coming back to bite him in the ass and he ends up turning human, the thing he despises most. Although, it doesn't look like the effects of the cure will last long as Magneto is able to wobble his very metal chess piece at the end of the movie.

3. V (V for Vendetta)

"People should not fear their governments. Governments should fear their people."

The anarchist that brought down an entire dictatorship by himself. Sure, he had help along the way, but V orchestrated everything like Beethoven would with one of his masterpieces. Was he sometimes unnecessarily dramatic? Absolutely. Did he commit wrongful actions himself or set up wrongful deaths? Yes. Did he do everything with the intent on what's best for the people of London? Who knows. He had a vendetta and along the way he freed hundreds of people from a corrupt government, all while doing it in a mask that is now a symbol for revolution.

2. Frank Castle/The Punisher (The Punisher)

"Frank Castle is dead. Call me...The Punisher."

Frank Castle spent most of his adult life fighting to bring down bad men and women. Mostly undercover, he finally retires from the FBI and plans to spend the rest of his life in London with his family, but it's never that simple. We watch the man lose his entire family in a plot of revenge made by Howard Saint and his family. So with nothing to lose, Frank Castle decides to do the same. This man makes Howard kill not only his wife, but also his best friend before exacting justice for his lost family. He decides that the law isn't always justice and decides to take on murderers, rapists, and other monsters himself, giving them the punishment he think fits.

1. Logan/Wolverine (X-Men: The Last Stand)

"Then we stand together. X-Men...all of us."

Wolverine has come out on top once again! Now permanently staying at Xavier's school Wolverine tries to adjust from being solo to now being a team player. He doesn't get the luxury of time to do that when suddenly Jean is back his life, apparently now being controlled by the Phoenix. He tries his best to reach out to her, but his failure only leads to the death of Xavier. In the final battle, Wolverine finds himself leading the team against the Brotherhood, managing to finally defeat Magneto before going against the Phoenix. Despite finally getting Jean back in control, they both agree on what needs to be done. With tears, Wolverine kills her so that the threat of the Phoenix dies with her. It's the biggest growth we've seen of Wolverine in the trilogy as it's the first time he truly considers himself as part of the X-Men and becomes one of the permanent leaders of the team.

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