#no one against my rhymes got nothing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hildergard · 4 months ago

Note

just thinking about aemond x lowborn!reader (I found myself in love with that trope) he helps her by giving her food, money, clothes, and stuff. but the reader is a younger daughter or lives in a toxic environment and everything is monopolized by her family and when aemond finds out he simply sees red. i'm sorry if this doesn't make sense, but the idea is there!!!

PRECIOUS ★ AEMOND TARGARYEN

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Lowborn!Reader

TAGS | Swearing, suggestive content, dysfunctional family

WORDCOUNT | 2.7k

NOTE | Enjoy this thing I wrote in one sitting and did not edit. If you see any mistake... no you did not. There probably is⏤English is not my first language. In my mind, they are "rich" enough to buy food so I focused on gifts instead. I hope you'll like it nonetheless. I tried to keep it short this time and, for once, I think I succeeded! Thank you for requesting this great prompt <333

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

Downstairs, the intoxicated patrons sang their bawdy songs and shook the walls of the inn. Their lewd rhymes travelled through the dingy floorboards and vanished against your parted lips.

A hand went up your spine, grazed your shoulders, and stopped on your sweaty neck.

“Where is it?”

The voice hit the air and sent shivers down your spine. That authoritative tone, those proudly exhaled consonants, those whispered vowels... His words exuded nobility and education and set your whole body ablaze. You closed your eyes for a second and imagined yourself blessed with such gift of the gab, but your sentence fell awkwardly from your bruised lips.

“What do you mean?”

The sticky sheets crumpled under your weight. You squinted to make out the silhouette of your lover. In the moonlight, his hair looked as if it had been woven from the stars.

“Where is your necklace?" Aemond asked.

Mindlessly, your fingers hit an infinity of naked flesh. You gulped.

“Oh... Well... I didn't want to wear a beautiful object liked that in Flea Bottom. Thieves are everywhere with the blockade–”

“I gave it to you for you to wear it," he cut you off.

The pitch-dark night itself could not hide his discontent.

“I know, my love," you say softly.

He had been so happy to give it to you. The gold chain and the sapphire still sparkled in your dreams. Sometimes, at night, you would remember Aemond's delicate fingers against your neck, the refreshing coldness of the precious metal on your flesh, its weight against your throat... And then, the sun would tear you from your dreams and the only thing left around your neck would be the knot of your guilt.

“No matter," he finally said.

Your prince's fingers descended on your chest, brushed against your nipple but did not linger, much to your regret. Aemond got out of bed and left your body cold⏤it was so easy to let yourself be consumed by dragonfire. It burned your heart oh so beautifully.

Without a word, Aemond bent down and took a packet out of his leather bag. You looked away from his naked body, your cheeks aflame. The many nights you had spent with him, learning the map of his muscles and flesh, had done nothing for your shyness. It died in an explosion of pleasure each night but would always be reborn in the painful awareness left in the vanishing carnal bliss.

Aemond came back and handed you the gift, one knee resting on the thin mattress. A lump twisted in your throat and rendered you speechless. With a trembling hand, you pulled the ribbon and let the fabric fall to reveal a magnificent dress.

You closed your eyes for a moment and forced a smile onto your face.

“You shouldn't have," you said through clenched teeth.

“You say that every time," he laughed. “And you know very well that I will not stop. You deserve to be pampered, my love."

You don't command a nobleman, let alone a Targaryen. Perhaps that was why Aemond kept ignoring your request, for it never changed. Every gift was answered with this phrase. There was no false modesty there, just the familiar, creeping guilt⏤an old enemy coming to torment you.

“It’s beautiful.”

Your fingers brushed against the blue bodice, where golden threads wove in a fine, expensive, embroidery⏤a huge dragon slumbered in a field of flowers.

At your words, Aemond smiled brightly and kissed your forehead. His lips left their wet imprint, which you did not wipe away. You would cherish its feeling a little longer. He moved down your cheeks and finally attacked your lips. You groaned and buried your hand in his hair before pressing your chest against his.

“I must go now," he said reluctantly between kisses.

You stepped back with a sigh and glanced at the window. The hour of the wolf was darkening the sky. Downstairs, the patrons had quietened down. Heavy, awkward footsteps echoed in the corridor and doors slammed.

At last, the more festive souls were going to bed.

If you listened carefully, you could hear the bakers already hard at work. The first to rise, they sweetened the dreams of citizens with the sweet and greedy fragrances they distilled in the streets.

Aemond slumped onto the bed one last time and pulled you in for a last kiss.

“The next time I see you, I will rip that silk off your body," he smiled before pointing to the discarded dress.

You nodded, avoiding his gaze, and kissed him one last time.

Aemond⏤hood falling on his head⏤disappeared with an uttered I love you and left you alone with your guilt. A sigh shook your chest.

You got dressed and went downstairs, leaving the stains on the linen as the only trace of your love. You absently nodded at Denyse, busy wiping the tables, and set off into the streets of Flea Bottom.

It would take you a good hour to get to the forge.

You already longed for your bed on the other side of the town.

Flea Bottom, for all its faults, provided the discretion you needed to meet your prince every night. It was Aemond who had shown you this little inn after you refused to use the secret passages leading to the Red Keep⏤you would not throw yourself into the dragon's jaws.

Your feet cursed you, but your heart thanked you for these precious moments⏤away from the reproaches and the forge, the vices of the court and the pressure of power. In this dingy room, the Prince softened and removed his iron mask to reveal the gentle soul hidden behind it, while you forgot the shrill cries that tormented your days.

It took you longer than usual to reach the Street of Steel. As you passed through the wooden door, the hour of the Nightingale was casting its first rays of sunshine and waking up the workers.

Your mother was waiting for you, arms crossed and a bucket of water at her feet.

Without delay, she ripped the dress from your hands and replaced it with the bucket. A few drops splashed onto you, soaking the front of your sweaty tunic.

“Where did you get that?” her sharp voice asked. “You stole it, didn’t you? How many times do I have to tell you–”

“I didn’t– It's not–”

She cut you off before you could come up with an excuse.

Her fingernails scraped at the embroidery, which held firm.

“That’s some good work..." she mumbled. “We'll get a few silver stags out of it... Maybe enough to repair the oven. Meredyth? Meredyth! Come downstairs and take this to the weaver next door!”

You held out a shaking hand to try and retrieve the dress, but your mother glared at you. You lowered your head, your eyes wet. Aemond's face appeared in your thoughts and the guilt⏤always there⏤ignited.

You no longer had the strength to fight the inevitable. Dawn, beautiful as it was, always had its share of disappointments in store for you. Every morning, your prince's gifts were snatched from you without remorse and sold to the nearest merchant. All that remained of your jewels and dresses was a thick leather purse hidden under the floor of your parents' bedroom⏤both took great pleasure in lecturing you about stealing and sinning.

Your mother could pretend all she wanted to be pious and kind, a good believer with a guiltless conscience, but you knew the truth. She would never go through with her threats, far too happy with the gold dragons piling up under her pillow.

Your sister ran down the stairs and grabbed the package before examining its contents.

“Oh, Mum, it's so beautiful…” She took the dress out of its wrapping and pressed it to her chest before twirling around, not minding the dirt on the silk with her ashen fingers. “Can we keep it?”

Your mother scoffed.

“To do what? You don't need an embroidered dress to forge swords and shoe horses. Why don't you go and see if Claere can take it? And you!" she turned back to you. “Clean the grindstone. You’ll sharpen the commissions next. Corwyn isn't here.”

The knot tightened around your neck as you nodded and disappeared into the workshop.

The hours passed. Sweat stuck to your forehead and the sparks from the grindstone bit your fingers. At last⏤to your delight⏤ nine o'clock struck the end of the day. You gave Duncan⏤a golden cloak⏤the dagger he had ordered, pocketed the fifty silver stags and wished him a good evening.

When he closed the door, you hurried up to your room, washed yourself with the bucket of cold water, put on one of your best dresses and ran to Flea Bottom, ignoring your mother's cries, which faded under the beating of your soles.

You arrived at the inn out of breath, but happy to be away from home. Denyse greeted you with a wink and watched you stride up the stairs. The steps creaked under your weight, but you did not care. Habit and euphoria carried you to an innocuous door.

You opened it and a body flung itself against yours. A smile lit up your face. Aemond did not wait and pulled you to the bed.

As his lips peppered your neck with kisses, his hands slipped under your body and roamed the length of your back. They clung to your dress and sought out the threads of your bodice, but suddenly stopped. You tensed. Gently, Aemond straightened up. He looked at you before his eye fell on your cotton dress.

“What is this?”

“Aemond, I–”

“Wasn't it to your liking? You should have told me. I would have asked the royal weaver to make the necessary alterations. We just received Essos fabrics. Perhaps it would have been wiser to talk to you about it before commissioning it,” he frowned.

“It was perfect.”

“Was?”

You sighed and embraced him. Immediately, Aemond's hands searched for yours. Your fingers intertwined. He pulled you against him and tucked his chin into your neck. As he spoke, his breaths hit your skin and made you shiver.

“What are you not telling me, my love?”

His closeness calmed you. With the tip of your pointer finger, you brushed his back and caressed the hollow of his spine. Your hand came to rest on the small of his back and traced invented letters that told of all the love you felt for him. He smiled against your neck and kissed it, understanding the gibberish you were writing with an ignorant hand.

The language of love knew no illiteracy.

“Y/N?”

Your sigh struggled to come out, blocked by the muscular torso against your chest. It struggled to find its way to your lips and when it did come out, it poured all its guilt into the air before suffocating you.

“It's just that... I mean... Don't get angry, please, I couldn't bear it,” you begged.

“Never, my love. Now tell me.”

“Your gifts… My parents… They sell them.”

He straightened up and sought your gaze, but you turned your head away. Guilt lacerated your throat. You swallowed to get rid of the horrible feeling, but it remained.

The Gods were punishing you.

“They sell them and use the gold for the forge or when they feel like it.”

He said nothing, which worried you.

“Stop offering me more," you stammered. “I beg you, Aemond. I can't bear the guilt any longer. Please, Aemond. You must understand…”

He hushed you and gently caressed your cheek. You took refuge in the warmth of his palm and closed your eyes. His lips wiped away the few tears that rolled down your cheekbone.

“It is all right.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, my sweet. Now please, do not cry. I cannot bear this sight.”

After your conversation, Aemond stopped bringing you gifts. Your heart sank, but you told yourself that it was for the best⏤your parents would, at last, no longer monopolise his fortune. Now, all your prince had left to offer you were his caresses and words, but you felt richer than if he had given you a piece of jewellery.

Your hammer struck the iron, sending sparks flying. They nicked at your cheeks but did not dim the smile on your face. Your thoughts drifted back to last night, Aemond's warm skin against yours, his hand between your thighs, his warmth and his thrusts…

A metallic noise brought you back to reality. You raised your head and blinked, expecting to find Corwyn in the workshop, but there was only you.

It comes from the shop, you realised.

You frowned⏤thinking about the person behind the counter⏤and wiped your hands on an old towel before walking to the front. Worry settled in your chest as you quickened your pace.

Your father never dropped his tools. Years of experience had turned his hammer into a part of his hand. He was no longer the young apprentice you or your siblings still were.

You stumbled into the shop.

“M’prince!" your father stammered. “To what do we owe this honour?”

Your wide eyes met Aemond's satisfied one. The towel fell to the floor.

“Would you like a sword? I have several that might please you. No Valyrian steel around here unfortunately," he chuckled, "but they cut just as good.”

“I’ve come to discuss your daughter's affairs.”

“Meredyth?”

“Your youngest daughter," the Prince replied.

Your father gave you an incredulous look when you reached him. His fist tightened around the hammer he had picked up.

“I heard a rumour that rather annoys me, I must admit. A rumour about valuable objects that have an unfortunate tendency to disappear.”

Your father grabbed your upper arm to keep you in line⏤ unwilling to sully his image in front of the Prince Regent.

“Her mother and I...! We've told her a hundred times not to steal! She's a good girl, m’prince. She's just a little... lost. Youth, you know," he smiled nervously. “No need to make a big deal of it. Don't you think?”

“Oh, your daughter is innocent. You are the problem, sir.”

“M-me?”

“You see, those objects were gifts. From me, might I add. And I take great offence that you not only stole them but shamelessly sold them for your own gain, embezzling money from the crown. This is an act of treason, did you know that? I could have your head for this.”

You massaged the bridge of your nose between two fingers and sighed, cursing your lover's hot blood and praying to the Gods to give you the strength. Three eyes burned at your temple⏤two of embarrassment, one of pride. You met your father's gaze and shrugged.

“I… I beg your pardon, m’prince. We didn't know.”

Your father set down his hammer on the counter and curtsied. His callused fingers waved, unsure of what to do, before plunging into the centre pocket of his leather apron.

The prince stared at your father for a few more seconds, gloating as he squirmed with embarrassment, and moved towards you. Gently, he took hold of your wrist. You gasped when a cold sensation touched your hand. You looked down and found a magnificent ring on your finger⏤a fine circle of twisted gold with several sparkling sapphires.

“And there it was. Something as precious as you," he smiled, stroking the jewel with his thumb. “A thousand stones could not compare with your eyes, but I must admit I cannot wait to see it on your finger tonight. It will be all the more beautiful under the moonlight.”

Aemond kissed your hand before straightening up to glare at your father.

“If I hear this ring has been sold, you will suffer the consequences. Is that clear?”

“Yes, m’prince.”

“Hmm. Good.”

He left the forge with a confident step and slammed the door behind him.

Silence stretched on. Your teary eyes remained riveted on the jewel. The imprint of his kiss still warmed the back of your hand and made your heart race. You shook your fingers, welcoming this new weight, and smiled brightly.

After several minutes, your father, his mouth ajar, finally turned to you.

“Now, what on earth did you do to seduce a prince, girl?

#★ WRITING #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #hotd x reader #aemond fanfic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #aemond angst #aemond x reader smut #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon fanfic

531 notes · View notes

froggibus · 1 year ago

Text

Got Me Up All Night - Ramattra

Pairing: Ramattra x fem! reader (reader uses female pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Ramattra is used to putting you to sleep when you can’t, but he’s found a far more effective way now…

CW: slight somno (consensual), size difference + size kink, thigh riding, overstimulation, edging, fingering, Ram has a cock, spanking, dom! Ram (that rhymes lol), sub!reader, possessiveness, insomnia, unprotected sex (but he’s a robot so idk how that even works lol), creampie but not really (^)

guys I am so down bad for this guy rn it’s not even funny…trying to focus on my comp games but he’s standing there being this sexy and ugh

It’s well past three am when you’re rolling out of bed and padding down the halls of the monastery. It’s been a while since you went to sleep at a reasonable time, most nights you tossed and turned until you gave up and resigned to wandering around until you found what you were looking for. Or rather, who you’re looking for.

You find him in his office, legs propped up on his desk while he studies a map. Though he doesn’t acknowledge your entrance, you know he knows you’re there. He says nothing even as you approach him slowly and climb into his lap.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle your head into his neck.

Ramattra freezes at your touch. He’s not an affectionate being by any means—he’s never really understood why humans are so caught up on it. But having you drape yourself across him, your warm body against his cool metal, he almost understands it.

He wraps an arm around you, large hand settling on your back. “Another restless night?”

You hum in agreement, nodding your head. The skin of your cheek brushes his and if he was capable of blushing the way humans did, he would. Something about you just gets into his head, and while he’s never cared much for humans and their antics, he cares for you.

“Do you want to discuss it?” His thick fingers tangle in your hair, gently tugging on the strands.

“Just wanna sleep,” as if on cue, you yawn.

He nods, going back to studying the map on his desk. Still, even as he concentrates, his hand still plays with your hair and rubs your back and brushes your fingers.

You can’t help but stare at how much bigger he is than you. Ramattra, the omnic warrior who could crush you with one hand, but he’s being more gentle than anyone has ever been with you in your entire life and a part of you just melts. Ramattra, who you thought hated you and your kind until he lulled you to sleep in his office and carried you to bed. Ramattra, who can’t communicate his feelings for the life of him—but why would he want to have feelings for you? You’re just a human, after all.

As soon as he notices your heart rate steady and your breathing soften, he’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you down the hall. He’s as careful as he can be, supporting your body with just enough strength so that you won't wake up.

He lays you down in your bed but your arms don’t loosen from around your shoulders. A quiet whimper leaves your lips. He tilts his head in confusion. You were asleep a second ago, and he was so careful.

It doesn’t seem like you’re awake though.

He sighs and lays on the bed next to you, letting your body weight drape over him. It’s a good thing he finds your sleepiness endearing.

You subconsciously wrap your arms around him, slinging one of your legs over his muscular one. You’re completely draped over him, and though the omnic could remove you at any point, he thinks it’s a good excuse to stay the night with you.

He relaxes with you, letting his thoughts wander from Omnic supremacy for a minute. He thinks of you, laying like this underneath him, showing him things he’s always been curious about. Of course, it doesn’t last long. Not when you’re suddenly whining and rubbing up against him.

He can feel your heart rate pick up too, the steady thumping growing uneven. He’s not sure what to do—are you having a nightmare? Are you in pain?

He scans you over, looking for any reason for your sudden change in attitude. He grips your shoulder and gently shakes you awake.

Your eyes flutter open, squinting to adjust to the dark. “W-what?”

You try to gather your bearings. You were having a dream, a really good dream. It’s then that you notice the dampness in your underwear and the way your legs are wrapped around one of his.

“S-sorry!” You stammer, and go to pull away your leg, but he grabs your hip and keeps you in place.

He’s so big, so strong—his fingers reach almost to your belly button while his palm is on your hip, and he effortlessly holds you still. “What’s happening? Are you in pain?”

You bite your lip and shake your head, trying to keep your eyes away from his. Your pussy is still gushing and you fight the urge to keep rocking your hips against him.

“No. I’m not hurt, I—I just…had a weird dream.”

Ramattra looks at you curiously. Your body temperature has gone way up, you can’t look him in the eye, and he can feel a warm wetness in the crotch of your pants. He’s heard of these symptoms before but he’s in complete disbelief. There’s no way you’re aroused, is there?

He holds you still with one hand while he slowly trails the other one down your side, slipping it into the waistband of your shorts. His fingers brush your swollen clit and you whine, trying to clench your thighs around his thick fingers.

Your reaction confirms all he needs to know, and then he’s withdrawing his hand from your pants and rubbing circles on your thigh.

“R-ram,” you whimper.

He finds your pleas endearing. You’re so frail and desperate beneath him, straining your hips against his grip to try and get the friction you’re so desperate for. Still, he holds you in place.

“Tell me what you need.”

You whine again, looking at him with desperate eyes and trying to rub your hips against his thick metal thigh. “P-please, let me just—”

He releases his grip on your hips and you let out a whine as you get the friction you’ve needed. You roll over so you’re somewhat on top of him, gliding your hips up and down his leg. He keeps a hand on your hip to guide you along, occasionally pressing you into him in a way that makes you lick your lips and roll your eyes.

He’s in utter disbelief. He never thought he’d be close to a human, let alone having sex with one. But you look so fucking cute, and he loves how he has complete control over you. How he can give you so much pleasure or take it away at will.

You look up at him in utter want and he knows what you’re trying to say—you need more. He rips the fabric of your shorts and underwear apart in one fluid motion, discarding them somewhere on the bed. The cold night air hits your aching pussy and the skin to metal contact is delicious.

You go faster, rolling your hips up and down in waves, the knot inside of you building. You know you won’t hold out much longer, and all you want is to finish.

Ramattra considers stopping, lifting you up and ruining your orgasm. But he’s not that cruel. At least, not for the first one. He wants to see you come undone, he wants to see how fucking pretty you’ll be when you cum for him.

It only takes a few more seconds before you’re clenching around him, muscles spasming and pussy gushing. He holds you still during it, large hand stroking your head, trying to keep you calm while you thrash around wildly.

You let out a sigh of relief, rolling off of him. “Sorry,” you say sheepishly. “I wasn’t really thinking straight and—”

Ramattra is on top of you, caging you in to the bed with his body above yours. “Who said I was done with you?”

You swallow hard. “I-I don’t think I can take another one.”

“You can,” his hand trails down your stomach, thick fingers starting to work on your clit, “and you will.”

You suck in a breath, your legs spreading against your will. You’re so wet and warm and waiting for him, your pussy practically begging to be opened up by him. He circles the tip of his finger around your entrance, admiring the way you clench the air in anticipation.

He slips his finger inside of you. Just one of his fingers is so thick, so long. He reaches places you could never dream of reaching on your own, filling you up so damn good. He works you open, watching you writhe beneath him and whine from the sensitivity.

It doesn’t take much to stretch you out enough to slip another finger in, the omnic pumping in and out of you at a brutal pace. You’re thrashing around so wildly that he keeps a hand on your stomach to steady you, pushing down and creating a pressure against the fingers he has inside of you.

He can feel your muscles starting to tense again, hear it in the way you’re whining. He knows you’re not going to last long. He curls his fingers inside of you, trying to get you closer to your orgasm.

You’re so close, you can taste it. You thrust your hips into his hand, desperate to finish. You can feel it, your whole body is begging for it.

And then he pulls out.

You don’t waste a second in trying to shove one of your hands between your legs. Ram catches your hand before you can even touch your oversensitive clit, grabbing both of your wrists in one of his hands and pinning it above your head.

“Do you want to finish?”

You nod furiously, looking at him with your messy hair and pleading eyes. “Y-yes, god, so fucking badly.”

He trails his other hand up your thigh, going so painfully slow. You arch your back, whimpering. Just before his fingers can slide back into you, just before he touches you, he pulls back.

“R-ram!”

He squeezes your wrists in warning, reminding you who’s in control here. “You finish when I say you finish. You want to be good for me, yes?”

You nod.

“Good,” he sounds pleased with your answer, and trails his hand back up your thigh.

His finger barely grazes your clit but you shiver, arching your back off of the bed. He can’t help but laugh at your desperation, the way you’re so whiny and needy for only his fingers. The way you’re so desperate to be fucked by an omnic almost double your size. It’s so dirty, he loves it.

He finally shoves two fingers back inside of you, returning to his earlier pace without letting you adjust. That burning need to cum mixed with your sensitivity from earlier and the way he’s so lost in your pussy is all too much for you. It only takes a few thrusts before you come undone around him.

This time is way more intense than the first, walls spasming around his fingers. He releases your wrists, letting you arch your back and whine beneath him.

He waits for you to catch your breath for a minute before leaning in close to your ear and whispering, “do you need more?”

You shake your head. Your skin is already feverish and sweating from cumming twice, and your pussy is so sensitive you’re not sure you can take much more.

Ramattra slaps your pussy hard, staring at you expectantly. “Do you need more?” He emphasises each word with a slap, admiring the way you gush with each one.

You like pain—he’ll have to remember that.

“Y-yes!” You gasp out, clenching your thighs together. “I need more. I-I need you.”

He hums in satisfaction, happy with your answer. “That’s the slut I know.”

His words fluster you, making your head even dizzier than it was before. It’s so brash, so unlike him, but you love it. You love how he’s treating you like an experiment.

Ramattra gets onto his knees in front of you, messing around with the plate just below his abdomen. Omnics aren’t built for breeding, they aren’t meant to procreate. But through years of the evolution of technology and omnic-human relationships, modifications have been made.

You’re shocked to see Ram remove his plate, revealing a tentacle like cock made of the same organic metal as his body. It’s long and thick, and it’s bigger than anything you’ve tried to take before, but all you want is to feel it inside of you, stretching you out.

Ramattra laughs at the size difference. He’s already much bigger than a human, and he knows that extends to every part of him. He knows that by fucking you he’ll be ruining you for every human man after, but he doesn’t care. Those human men can’t have you—no one can. They don’t deserve you.

He lines up the tip at your entrance, rubbing his cock through your folds and gathering up your juices on his length. It’s such a funny feeling for him, you feel nothing like he expected but he loves it.

He slowly pushes his way inside of you, feeling your gummy walls stretch around him. You whimper, desperately wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He pushes his way deeper, his cock stopping just past halfway.

He frowns. “You can take more than that.”

You shake your head, toes curling. “Too deep,” you protest.

He pulls out and slams back in, trying to force more of his length inside of you. He’s so much bigger than you, so much bigger than anything you’ve taken before. He completely stretches you out, reaching places you never knew were there.

He picks up his pace, slamming his hips against yours in a way you know will leave bruises tomorrow. He’s so deep inside of you, you can hardly take it. Regardless of the pain and the stretch, you find yourself lifting up your legs to give him easier access.

Ram uses this as an excuse to force himself deeper, hips colliding with yours with every thrust. He trails his hand down your stomach, squinting when he feels the slight bulge in your abdomen. He looks at it in shock—is he really that deep inside of you? Are you really that much smaller than him?

It only drives him to fuck you harder, throwing your legs over his shoulder in a mating press. You’re a moaning mess beneath him, crying out so loudly he’s sure half the monastery can hear you. Good, they’ll know who you belong to.

You’re almost sobbing from the pleasure, alternating between squeezing his shoulders and burying your head in his neck. Everything is so hot and sensitive, and he’s so big and so deep you can feel him everywhere. But you want more. You need more.

You moan out his name and please like a prayer. You’re not even sure what you want, what you need. Your brain has practically turned to mush at this point, and you’re getting close to the edge.

Ram can feel it too, and his cock vibrates in response. The feeling makes you shiver, only begging him to fuck you harder. You’re so close, so so close. All you need is a little more…

His cock pulses again and you come undone, tugging him close to you while you cum. Everything is so hot and wet and the faint feeling of him fucking you through your orgasm only drives you even more.

Your orgasm is enough to bring him close to his, cock vibrating steadily as he thrusts into you sloppily. He’s so desperate, collapsing on top of you in an attempt to get as deep as possible.

Finally, he lets go. There’s a hot warmth spreading through your stomach, and you look up at him through teary lashes. “Did—did you just…?”

“Organic nanites,” he explains, smoothing your hair back.

You nod slowly. It feels so good you don’t care, he could keep fucking his nanites inside of you all night as long as he makes you feel this good.

It’s not long until you’re starting to drift off to sleep again, your head on his chest and a leg around either side of one of his. Ram strokes your hair, admiring how fucked out you look. There’s still more that he wants to try with you, but there will be plenty of sleepless nights for that in the future.

#overwatch 2 #overwatch #ow2 #overwatch x reader #overwatch x you #ow #overwatch fic #xreader #overwatch headcanons #ramattra #ramattra x reader #ramattra x you #ramattra smut #Overwatch smut #overwatch ramattra #x You #ramattra ow

3K notes · View notes

aleskie-hischier · 15 days ago

Text

HEY OSCAR! | Oscar Piastri x Reader SUMMARY: You’ve shared a close friendship with Oscar Piastri since you first met during Freshman Orientation. When you join an open mic event that requires you to have an original composition, you channel your feelings into a song, hoping it can convey what you’re too scared to say. As it turns out, sometimes the heart speaks louder than words. AKA the Oscar Piastri University AU

Word Count: 8k Warnings: None :>> Just a lil Best Friends to Lovers ♫ Listen: Hey Stephen by Taylor Swift ♫

You sit cross-legged beneath the shade of an old oak tree in the open fields of the university, guitar in hand, fingers plucking strings with delicate care as you hum along. Beside you, a glitter pen rests on top of an open notebook, the pages half-filled with scrawled chords and lyrics that have been scratched out.

The air’s turned crisp and the sun dips lower, casting the sky in vibrant waves of orange, pink, and violet. But you're too absorbed in perfecting the melody, to enjoy the beauty unraveling above.

“There you are!” a familiar voice calls out, cutting through your focus. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

It’s your best friend, Oscar.

He crosses the field with his usual lopsided grin, looking slightly out of breath, his backpack bouncing with each step. As he reaches you, he plops down on the grass and drops his bag with a thud beside yours, the collection of keychains clinking against each other like a small wind chime.

“I thought I’d be headed to the library by myself,” he says, still smiling, his eyes glancing over at your notebook. “Didn’t think I’d find you out here, lost in…this.” He gestures towards you hunched over your guitar, scribbling glittery musings in your notebook.

You shrug, glancing sheepishly at your notebook. “Sorry bub, you might still have to go without me. I’ve got this melody I need to finish.”

“A melody?” He echoes, raising a brow and clearly amused. “You do remember we’re engineering majors, right? Not musicians.”

“Unlike someone, I actually have a hobby,” you shoot back, grinning, though your gaze drifts back to your guitar, fingers instinctively tracing the fretboard. “We can’t all be robotics prodigies, Mr. Piastri.”

“Augh!” He clutches his chest in mock injury, grinning widely. “Low blow, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes and return to strumming, catching the way he settles onto his backpack, head tilted back as he scrolls through his phone. Clearly, he isn’t going anywhere, so you continue experimenting with melodies and rhymes, though none of them feel quite right.

As the sky darkens and a chill settles in, you glance over to find Oscar still sprawled on the grass, now with his AirPods in, chuckling softly at something on his screen. Smirking, you reach over and pull one of the earbuds out.

“I thought you were heading to the library?” you tease, raising a brow.

He huffs, reaching for the earbud in your hand, though his fingers linger on yours for just a beat longer than necessary. “You weren’t going to be there, so what’s the point?”

You feel some heat rush to your face but quickly push it down. He’s your best friend—nothing more. Probably.

“So, what? You’ll just stay here until I’m done?”

“Nah,” he says, a playful glint in his eye, “I’ll stay until you decide to ask for my opinion.”

“Ask for help from the guy who hasn’t even added a single song to our shared playlist?” You scoff, pouting, bringing your focus back to composing. “Yeah, no thanks.”

He hums a response and a beat passes before he gives you a knowing look. “So, why’d you even sign up for that original-submission open-mic thing anyway?”

You shrug, mumbling, “It seemed fun at the time.”

“Not so fun now, huh?” He smirks, his gaze drifting to the notebook littered with scratched-out lyrics and half-formed lines.

“Shut up,” you groan, playfully nudging him with your foot. He laughs, a sound as familiar as it is comforting, and you can’t help but smile as you return to your guitar, his presence a steady rhythm in the background, keeping you company as the stars begin to appear overhead.

“Well, let me offer some advice anyway, since you clearly don’t know what you’re doing,” he says, sitting up and rummaging through his backpack. He pulls out a hoodie and tosses it toward you, his aim landing it squarely on your face before it tumbles into your lap. “Just…focus on what you know.”

The hoodie is your hoodie—well, his hoodie, but you’ve claimed it enough times that it might as well be yours by now. It’s the one you always reach for on cold mornings and late nights. The one that’s softer than all his other hoodies. The one that clings to his scent the longest—not that you’d ever admit you notice that.

“Write what I know, huh?” You look over at him, letting your gaze linger on his tousled hair, his bright eyes, the faint freckles sprinkled across his face. As you think about his words, you start to make a mental list of the things you do know.

You know robotics and calculus. You know the exact temperature for steeping different types of tea. You know how to sew and knit and crochet. You know chemistry and coding and…you know Oscar.

You know his quirks, his habits, the way he folds into himself when he sleeps, how he prefers his coffee, and how he schedules his day with way too many alarms. You know his class schedule by heart, the subjects he struggles with, and the way he pushes through them anyway. If nothing else, you know him. You know him in all the small, quiet ways that matter.

You slip on the hoodie, feeling its warmth wrap around you, and can’t help but give him a small, almost secret smile—a little mischievous, a little uncertain. You already know what you’re going to write about.

For better or worse, this would be a song he wouldn’t forget.

You first meet Oscar at freshman orientation. By chance, the two of you end up sitting side-by-side in one of those endless welcome sessions, the kind that packs in far too many speeches from people you’ll probably never see again. He’s quiet and a little reserved, dressed head-to-toe in school merch: a fresh university shirt and a cap with the campus logo. You’d actively avoided wearing any of it, determined not to look like the stereotypical freshman, but somehow, on him, it’s endearing. He actually seemed excited to be here, enough to wear it proudly—and, well, he was cute. That didn’t hurt either.

You, on the other hand, were exhausted. The nerves from knowing you’d be starting college had robbed you of sleep, and the stuffy room only added to the weight of your eyelids. Somewhere between the speech on campus values and the talk on student resources, your head dips forward, and before you know it, you’re fast asleep—right on his shoulder.

He’s the one who gently nudges you awake once the session finally ends, when everyone else is already getting up to leave for campus tours. Blinking in confusion, you sit up quickly, mortification settling in as you realize what happened.

“Oh my God—I am so sorry!” You say, eyes wide and filled with regret.

“It’s fine,” he says, hands slipping into his pockets, a small, slightly awkward smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Could’ve happened to anyone.”

You squint, trying to gauge if he’s serious. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

He shrugs, still calm. “I mean, it could. I was close to falling asleep too,” he admits, leaning in as if it’s a secret.

You let out a laugh, nerves easing just a bit. Somehow, he makes it seem like less of a big deal, and you find yourself smiling.

“I’m Y/N,” you say, extending your hand with a tentative smile, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness of your unplanned nap on his shoulder.

“Oscar,” he replies, reaching out to grasp your hand. His shake is gentle but sure, his grip warm against your fingers.

For a brief moment, you hold his gaze, and there’s something both reassuring and easygoing in his expression. You can tell he’s someone who doesn’t mind the little quirks in people—he’s likely someone who’d find them interesting. The noise of other freshmen shuffling around to start the campus tour fills the air, but the two of you linger for just a beat longer.

“Well,” you say, letting go of his hand reluctantly, “Which group are you in for the tour?”

“Um.” He checks his phone, squinting slightly. “Group four.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, and a smirk creeps onto your face. “Well, look at that! Looks like you can’t get rid of me yet.”

“Never said I wanted to get rid of you.” He chuckles, sliding his phone back into his pocket as you both fall into step together. “Especially not when you’ve made quite the first impression.”

After a shared laugh and an easy exchange of grins, you lead the way to the back of the line for Group Four. Building after building, you walk together, navigating the labyrinth of campus with a strange mixture of excitement and calm.

Sometimes you walk in comfortable silence—the kind that only comes in those first moments of meeting someone, when you want to say more but aren’t quite sure where to start. Other times, your conversation spills into heated debates that draw in other students before they drift away again, leaving you and Oscar to continue on alone. You chat about everything from the cafeteria’s rumored curfews to the quirky statues scattered around campus, and as each topic arises, Oscar surprises you. He’s reserved, but his dry humor and unexpected quips keep you laughing, his calm wit a perfect match for your own.

By the time you’ve seen most of the campus, you realize there’s something different about him. He’s easy to be around, comfortable and safe, but with a spark that keeps things interesting. You can’t explain it exactly—and maybe it’s too early to tell—but some part of you feels that this could be the beginning of a friendship that’s special—one that could last a long, long time.

By the time sophomore year rolls around, Oscar is celebrating seven months with Michelle, his girlfriend, while you’re somewhere around your millionth date—or at least, that’s what it feels like.

It’s fine, you tell yourself. Oscar’s always been the type to settle down in serious relationships, while you’ve leaned into the idea of playing the field, keeping things light before they turn into something more. But that idea lost its appeal fast when you realized most people in the dating pool were just looking for something casual, something fleeting.

And it didn’t help that every so often, you’d find yourself third-wheeling Oscar and Michelle. They’d gotten together near the end of freshman year, survived a summer apart while he went back home to Australia, and picked up in sophomore year as if they’d never left each other’s side.

You kind of like Michelle. You’ve spent enough time with her to consider her almost a friend, sometimes hanging out without Oscar around. She’s sharp, funny, and somehow manages to match Oscar’s dry humor in a way that leaves you in stitches. But sometimes…well, sometimes, she gets under your skin. Like right now.

“Do I look alright?” Oscar asks, running a hand through his hair for what has to be the hundredth time tonight, eyes fixed on the mirror as he adjusts his shirt and frowns slightly.

You’re sprawled across his roommate’s bed, a spot that’s become practically yours over the past two years.

Oscar’s roommate, Lando, is an upperclassman in your major, just a year ahead, and the three of you clicked almost instantly. He’s practically the big brother of your university life, guiding you through the maze of class schedules, professor choices, and which activities are worth your time.

He’s loud, fun, and has an impressive collection of video games that you all regularly raid. And thanks to him, you and Oscar have a standing invite to all the best parties on campus, where he dramatically introduces you both as his “prized students.” He’s a blast to be with. There’s never a dull moment with him.

Currently, he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing his Nintendo Switch with complete focus while you absentmindedly twist curls in his hair.

“You look fine, Osc,” you groan, “You looked fine thirty minutes ago when you first asked.” You give him a pointed look. “Which, by the way, was the time she was supposed to meet you here.”

Oscar shrugs, brushing it off with a small smile. “She’s probably just finalizing the details of the date. She’ll be here soon.”

Lando smirks, not glancing up from his game. “Does she know that offering to plan a special date—and then executing it—also involves showing up on time?”

You smack the back of his head lightly, and he yelps, finally looking away from his game. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Don’t make him feel bad,” you pout, crossing your arms.

He rolls his eyes, grinning. “Oh, so you can throw in all the little comments about her being late and flaking out, but I can’t?”

“Yes,” you say, matter-of-factly, crossing your arms, “Because I actually hang out with her. You just get the highlights.”

Lando snickers but doesn’t get a chance to reply before Oscar cuts in, his expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “Wait—so you gossip about my relationship now? Since when?”

Lando gives Oscar a devilish grin, leaning back with a smug look. “That’s classified info, Ozzy boy,” he says, “But we’ll let you in on the secret if you two either break up or end up getting married.”

Oscar looks at you, his expression practically pleading, as if to say, And you’re in on this too? You’re going to keep this a secret from me?

You can’t help but smirk, knowing how it’ll get under his skin. “What he said.” You and Lando share a quick high-five, laughing at Oscar’s groan.

Then, Lando gives you a sly look, leaning in with a grin. “Honestly though, Y/N, if you ever get tired of waiting on him, I’m single. We’d be campus royalty, you know? Top of the line.”

You snort, playing along. “Oh, totally. Imagine the headlines: Y/N and Lando—A Match Made in Unexpected Heaven!”

“Right?” Lando grins, winking. “We’d be a dream together, love.”

Oscar shifts uncomfortably, crossing his arms as he watches you two banter. “Are you two done planning your imaginary relationship?” He mutters, trying to sound casual but giving you a sidelong glance.

You glance back at him, laughing. “Relax, Osc. Lando’s not even my type—”

“Hey now!” Lando protests, feigning offense.

“—But if he were,” you continue, ignoring Lando’s dramatics, “You’d totally be the best third wheel, bub.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, but there’s a glint of something behind the exasperation, something you can’t quite place. “Yeah, yeah. Just remember who’s actually got a date tonight.”

Lando raises his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. We’ll let you focus on impressing your date, lover boy.” He smirks. “If she ever gets here.”

You give him another light smack on the head and he laughs as Oscar chuckles along, the three of you settling back into the easy rhythm of jokes and chatter. Oscar seems quieter than usual, but you chalk it up to nerves about the date—or lack thereof.

You’re just relieved to have the same easy vibe you’ve always had with them—after all, that’s what matters most.

When the clock strikes midnight, Michelle is still a no-show. No text, no call, no explanation. And Oscar is...silent. Even Lando, usually quick with a quip, notices the change in Oscar’s mood and dials down the teasing, trying instead to fill the silence by chattering about a game they both play. But even that doesn’t bring Oscar around; his usual lighthearted responses are replaced by quiet nods and distracted hums.

His clothes have long since changed from his date outfit to his usual worn hoodie and sweatpants, but the frown on his face hasn’t budged.

You and Lando have swapped places now—you’re sprawled on the floor, and he’s kicked back on his bed, scrolling on his phone. Oscar lies between you two, his head resting on your lap, eyes fixed on his screen. He’s still waiting, clearly hoping for some sign from Michelle, though by now you’re almost certain that no text is coming.

Eventually, you give him a gentle pat on the cheek, signaling for him to shift so you can slide out from under him and put your shoes back on to make the trek to your own dorm.

“The third roommate moves out,” Lando jokes, leaning back with a sigh. “Always the hardest part of the night, Y/N.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a smirk on your face as you give him a quick hug. “My presence really does brighten up the place, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He grins, playfully nudging you. “Bring her back safe, Osc!” He calls out as you and Oscar step into the hallway.

You and Oscar walk in silence, a heavy quiet that neither of you rushes to fill. After a moment, he reaches for your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, and you squeeze his hand back, hoping it’s some small comfort.

“What she did was shitty, you know,” you murmur, finally breaking the silence.

He lets out a laugh, though it’s empty, tired. “It’s kinda funny, isn’t it? I got all dressed up, wondering how the night would go, and then…nothing.” His voice trails off, resignation in every word.

You stop and turn to him, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “This isn’t on you, bub. She should’ve said something.”

He looks at you, eyes tracing the ground for a second before they finally lift, catching yours. “At least you’re here.”

“Perks of being single and unwanted,” you joke, your voice light but the words half-true. You squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I’ll always be here, Osc. No matter what.”

Hand in hand, you make your way to your dorm, basking in a silence that feels steady, solid. When you reach your door, you pause, turning to him with open arms. He steps into the hug, pulling you close, and you feel him cling just a little tighter, his warmth grounding you both.

After a long moment, he pulls back, his hands resting on your shoulders, but he doesn’t let go. “For the record,” he says softly, his gaze steady on yours, "You aren’t unwanted.” His voice grows quieter, serious. “I’ll always want you around.”

For a moment, his words feel loaded, almost more than platonic, and something in his eyes lingers a beat too long. But you brush the thought away, reminding yourself of the boundaries in place—he has a girlfriend, and he’s just been hurt tonight. He’s vulnerable. So you ignore any underlying meanings—ignore the rising tension—and you ruffle his hair, keeping things light.

“Me too, bub.” You smile, patting his shoulder. “I’ll always want you around too.”

With a last squeeze of his hand, you slip into your dorm, leaving Oscar standing there, both of you holding onto that quiet, unspoken promise between you.

Oscar and Michelle break up just before summer, right near the end of sophomore year. You can’t say you’re surprised—honestly, you’d been half-expecting it since that night she stood him up. But when he tells you, his voice low and resigned, you do your best to hide any hint of satisfaction. You give him a steady pat on the back, listen as he mopes through the last few weeks of school, and keep all those unspoken feelings locked away. After all, he’s your best friend, and that’s what he needs most right now.

Still, you can’t deny that a part of you is relieved. He’s spending more time with you again and his hoodies have officially returned to their rightful home—your dorm room. You feel a secret giddiness every time he hands you one to wear, relishing the way it’s soft and warm and unmistakably his. It’s as if things have gone back to how they used to be.

But you’re his best friend, and best friends don’t overthink the little things. So you keep it to yourself, even when you’re studying for finals together, living off caffeine and library vending machine snacks, or trading late-night rants about the professors who dared assign twenty-page essays. You proofread his pages with half-shut eyes at 3 a.m., he helps you organize your chaotic notes, and somehow, you make it through. After every three-hour final, you both wait outside the exam hall for each other, sharing a quiet sense of victory, collapsing into a laugh about how little you actually remembered from all those nights spent cramming.

When the semester finally ends, and it’s time for him to pack for his trip back home to Australia, you help him sort through his clothes and cram textbooks into his suitcase, doing your best to ignore the familiar ache of goodbye.

If your fingers brush a little too long while folding his favorite shirt, or if you find his face lingering a beat too close as you hand him one last book to pack, neither of you mentions it. These almost-moments hang in the air, the silence thick with words you’re not yet ready to say. But it’s enough just to know he’ll be back, that no matter how far he goes, he’s still yours.

At least, in the way best friends belong to each other.

When he comes back after the summer, now entering into your junior year, you notice he’s different. It’s subtle, but unmistakable—a little more confidence in the way he carries himself, a bit more certainty in his steps. He’s shed some of that awkward charm, replaced by a newfound ease that almost feels strange. You find yourself watching him more closely, catching moments that feel just a little bit different.

There’s a shift between you, too, something new lingering just beneath the surface, threading itself into each conversation. It’s a tension that neither of you dares to name. The way he walks, the way he talks to you—it all feels sharper, more vivid somehow. And the way he says your name now, in that deeper tone with that familiar hint of teasing, makes your heart race a little faster, even though you tell yourself it’s silly.

One afternoon, you’re sitting side by side on the campus lawn, watching students pass by, each absorbed in their own lives. Oscar’s fingers idly pull at the grass between you, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you, lingering just a moment too long. His eyes are warm but searching, as if there’s something he’s been holding back.

“Do you…miss me over the summer?” He asks, half-smiling but with an edge to his tone, as if he’s testing the waters.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you give his shoulder a playful shove. “Are you forgetting the reason I spend half my summer awake at the strangest hours? Making sure your calls don’t end with me passing out mid-conversation?” You raise an eyebrow, leaning back. “Trust me, bub, you’re impossible to forget.”

“Just wanted to make sure,” he says, jutting out his lower lip in a mock pout. His gaze stays steady on you, his eyes searching yours, and there’s something there—something you can’t quite place but that you feel all the way down to your bones.

You swallow, trying to keep your tone as light as his. “Oh, Oscar. No need to be dramatic. You’ve been stuck with me since orientation.” You smile, warm and reassuring. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He chuckles, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. “People have a way of leaving,” he murmurs, almost to himself, “I mean, Lando is.”

His chuckle is warm, but the laugh doesn’t fully reach his eyes. A flicker of something vulnerable, almost haunted, crosses his face. “People have a way of leaving,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, Lando’s about to graduate, and after that…well, things change.”

His words hang between you, stark against the background noise of campus life. It’s a reality you both understand: university, with its friendships, late-night talks, and steady routines, is never as permanent as it feels in the moment. Change is inevitable, and soon, it’ll come for all of you.

You scoot a little closer, letting your shoulder brush against his, grounding him in the here and now. “Lando’s an old man at the edge of freedom, the lucky bastard.” You smirk, nudging him gently. “You and I though? We’re still the same. No one’s going anywhere.”

For a moment, you both just sit there, the weight of unspoken promises lingering between you. His gaze dips briefly to your lips before flicking back up, and there’s a spark of something that feels new, unexpected. It’s as though he’s waiting for the right words, like there’s a tune that neither of you has heard yet playing gently in the background, just waiting for one of you to finally hum along.

You rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath, letting the familiar weight of his presence ground you. “We’ve got time, Oscar.”

He grins, a little reluctantly, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that softens his expression, something unguarded and real. You can feel the silent understanding settle between you both, an unspoken promise that maybe, just maybe, some things don’t have to change.

Not yet.

And now, you’re here. Typing out the lyrics to the song you know is going to be for Oscar, while lying on his bed with his arm resting comfortably around your waist, his breathing slow and even beside you. The gentle weight of his arm keeps you grounded, but it’s more than that; it’s the warmth of him next to you, a presence you can’t shake, a feeling that lingers even when he’s not here.

You’d thought nothing had changed between you two. But now, looking back, you see it—small shifts, like puzzle pieces rearranging themselves before you even noticed they’d moved. Maybe it’s the way he’s been studying your face a little longer, or the way he’s been holding your hand more often, or how he brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear without a second thought.

Then, there was that moment just a while ago. You’d been sprawled out on Lando’s bed as usual, laughing at some random meme he'd shown you. But Oscar was just watching you, a soft expression in his eyes that felt almost...territorial.

"C'mere," he’d said suddenly, his voice soft but insistent, breaking through your laughter. “Stay with me.”

Lando had raised an eyebrow at Oscar’s request, and you’d missed a small knowing smirk on his lips. But you were more focused on how Oscar’s eyes hadn’t left you, his hand reaching out in a quiet invitation.

You’d moved over to him, hesitating for only a second before settling into his arms. The way his hand had rested on your waist, his fingers drawing small circles there as you leaned against him, felt different—like he was anchoring you there, like he wanted you closer than usual. And though he’d acted like it was nothing, you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat pick up against your shoulder.

Now it’s just the two of you, the quiet of the dorm settling around you, warm and easy. Lando had left a while ago, heading to a friend’s party and leaving you and Oscar alone—though not before snapping a couple photos of you two on the same bed. The dim light from the streetlamp outside filters through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room, and you can’t help but notice how natural it all feels—like you were always meant to be here.

Oscar stretches beside you, facing you with his hazy eyes and that familiar, sleepy smile. There’s something gentle in his gaze, a kind of warmth that makes your pulse skip a little, though you try to ignore it, focusing instead on the slow rhythm of his breathing and the subtle sound of his laughter still echoing from earlier.

“Comfortable?” he murmurs, his voice low and a little drowsy. His hand, warm and steady, rests lightly on your shoulder as he draws you closer.

“Yeah,” you say, not even bothering to hide the smile in your voice. It’s almost ridiculous, the calm that fills you while you’re with him—no masks, no obligations, just the two of you in the cozy quiet.

Minutes pass in an easy silence, your head resting just close enough to his that you can feel his breath against your cheek. When you look up, he’s already watching you, eyes half-lidded, a softness in them you haven’t quite seen before. There’s a vulnerability there, something almost unguarded, as if he’s waiting for you to catch onto a feeling that he’s carried all along.

Your eyes drift closed, and soon enough, the quiet thrum of his heartbeat beside you becomes a lullaby, easing you to sleep with a sense of comfort you can’t remember feeling anywhere else.

When you wake the next morning, soft sunlight is spilling through the blinds, warming the room with a gentle glow. For a moment, you’re disoriented, blinking away sleep and adjusting to the soft, steady breathing beside you. Then you remember—you’re still here, wrapped in the blankets beside Oscar.

Oscar stirs, his eyes fluttering open just enough to catch you watching him. A lazy grin tugs at his lips, and his hand, which had somehow ended up wrapped around yours, gives the smallest, sleep-tinged squeeze.

"Morning," he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," you reply, feeling a warmth settle over you that has nothing to do with the morning light filtering through the blinds. There’s a pause, a soft kind of stillness stretching between you, as if the world outside doesn’t exist yet and you’re suspended here, in this quiet, shared moment.

"G’moooooorning," Lando groans from across the room, his voice muffled by the covers. The two of you chuckle, knowing he’ll be facing a brutal hangover today.

Still smiling, you shift to sit up, and that’s when it hits you—just how close you and Oscar are, practically nose to nose on his twin bed. His hand is still loosely draped around yours, and you can feel his steady breaths, warm against your cheek. The familiarity of it sends a pleasant hum through you, a feeling of rightness that’s been quietly building in moments like this.

Oscar’s gaze catches yours, his eyes lingering just a bit longer than usual, and you notice the small smile playing on his lips, a little shy, a little more awake now. For a split second, something in his expression feels different—like there’s a question he hasn’t quite asked, or a confession he’s almost ready to say.

You feel a flicker of something, unexpected and thrilling, settle in your chest. And in that moment, you think that maybe, just maybe, there's something more here.

But you shake the thoughts from your head. You’re just friends. Best friends.

Oscar’s bed is quickly becoming your new headquarters, if only because he won’t let you sit on Lando’s anymore. He insists it’s practical—Lando’s bed is too far from his side of the room, and Lando would complain about your stuff spilling over anyway—but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it. And Oscar’s growing possessiveness over “his side of the room” only fuels that suspicion.

One afternoon, as you’re curled up in his bed, typing out lyrics on your laptop, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, smiles, and excuses himself to take the call, wandering to the far side of the room. You’re too focused on your song to notice right away, but something about his tone pulls you from your work.

“Hey, yeah…I know, I know,” he says, his voice soft and a little bashful. You can’t make out the other end of the conversation, but whatever they’re saying has him pacing, one hand ruffling his hair as he mutters a response.

He sighs a second later, a smile playing on his lips. “Come on, it’s not…it’s not that easy, alright?” He glances over at you, catching your eye for a brief, vulnerable moment before quickly looking away, his cheeks tinged with color. “I don’t think she’s...aware of anything like that. Not yet, at least.”

You can practically hear the teasing tone from the caller without even needing the words, and Oscar groans, running his hand over his face. “Okay, but… what if… I mean, what if it messes things up?”

You pretend to be fully absorbed in your screen, fighting back a small smile. You can’t hear the other side, but the snippets you catch send a warm flutter through your chest for some reason.

“Fine, fine,” he chuckles, conceding. “No, I get it. I do.” He steals another glance your way, a softer, unguarded look in his eyes, something unspoken. “Look, I’ll...I’ll think about it, okay?”

When he hangs up and returns to the bed, there’s a new, nervous smile on his face, like he’s holding back.

“Good talk?” you ask, trying to keep your tone light, though curiosity buzzes in your chest.

“Yeah, uh, just Hattie,” he says, still sounding casual, though his eyes are filled with something quieter, maybe even hopeful. He hesitates, as though choosing his words carefully. “She, um…thinks I should take more risks.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease, leaning in, feeling the familiar, magnetic pull between you. “What kind of risks?”

He laughs, though there’s a nervous edge to it, his gaze dropping to the edge of the blanket as he fidgets with it. “Just…the ones that aren’t obvious until you actually go for them, I guess.”

You hum, shifting back to your lyrics, though your heart skips a beat. The air between you feels charged, like you’re both on the edge of something new and a little terrifying.

It’s two weeks before the open mic, and you’re sitting at your desk, carefully polishing every line, every note of the song. There’s a rhythm to it now, a familiarity as you hum the lyrics under your breath, and suddenly, it hits you—this song, this performance, everything…it’s for him.

You're in love with Oscar Piastri.

You don’t exactly know when it happened—the exact moment it shifted from comfortable friendship to something deeper. Maybe it was that quiet moment on the field when you swore he looked at your lips a little too long, or when you found yourself deciding to dedicate this song to him. Maybe it’s always been this way with you both, feelings going deeper but never having the chance to be more.

Now though, it’s glaringly obvious. And it’s stressing you the fuck out.

Lando, on the other hand, is having the time of his life.

“Oh, thank the heavens!” He snickers, barely containing his glee as you finally confess it to him, late one night while Oscar’s out with other friends. He dramatically wipes a nonexistent tear from his eye. “I was starting to think you’d never figure it out!”

“It’s not funny!” You groan, slumping back into the chair across from him, running a hand through your hair.

“It soooo is!” Lando cackles, his laughter echoing through the room. “I mean, come on, Y/N. You were acting all kinds of weird back when he had a girlfriend!”

You sit up defensively, crossing your arms. “I was being a good friend! I even hung out with her!”

“On hangouts you always had issues with!”

“She was never on time and flaked constantly!”

He rolls his eyes, his smirk widening. “Fine, fine. But what about the fact that you basically live here now, huh? You and Oscar are like a package deal.”

You stick out your tongue. “You like having me around.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” he admits, smirking. “But come on. It’s obvious now—you’ve liked him for ages.”

You sigh, shoulders dropping as the weight of the truth settles in. “Yeah. I guess I have.” You let out a breath, feeling both relieved and nervous now that you’ve finally said it out loud.

Lando leans forward, raising an eyebrow. “So, what are you gonna do about it?”

You blink, suddenly feeling a little vulnerable. “I mean…do I have to do anything? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Lando gives you a look, the kind only a big brother can give, full of patience and a hint of frustration. “Y/N, the guy looks at you like you hung the stars. Seriously. You could be a serial killer and he’d be wagging his tail while helping you dig a hole.” He chuckles. “He’s madly in love with you. I swear it.”

You laugh, feeling warmth spread through you at his words. But you still shake your head, hesitant. “You think so?”

“Duh,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Look, don’t overthink it. Just play your song, put it all out there, and see how he reacts. You’ll know.”

You roll your eyes, giving him a playful nudge. “When did you get so wise?”

“Probably when I had my graduation photos taken,” he grins, brushing you off.

You laugh along with him, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s all you need to do—play the song, let the words say everything you’re too afraid to put out there, and hope he hears it in all the ways that matter.

Two days before the open mic, you’re practicing alone in the small rehearsal room on campus, running through the song again and again. The lyrics are practically engraved in your memory, but each time you sing them, they feel heavier, more vulnerable. You’ve poured so much of yourself, of your memories, into these words—it’s impossible not to think of him as you sing them.

The door creaks open, and you almost jump out of your skin. Oscar steps inside, an easy smile on his face as he leans against the doorway, hands stuffed in his pockets. "Hey,” he says, his voice low and soft, “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just wanted to see how you were doing.”

You clear your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up as you try to act casual. "Just practicing,” you say, glancing away and strumming a few absent chords on your guitar. “You know, trying to make it sound…not terrible."

He chuckles, shaking his head as he walks further into the room. “Not a chance of that. I know it’s gonna be incredible." He stops just a few feet from you, and suddenly the room feels much smaller. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this serious about something that wasn’t for our grade. It’s kind of amazing.”

You laugh, a little too nervously. "It might have turned out to be more important to me than I originally thought.”

He watches you, and there’s something unreadable in his expression, a mix of admiration and curiosity. It makes you feel exposed, as if he can see right through you, into the meaning behind what you just said, into all the feelings you’ve been trying so hard to keep under wraps since you realized.

“Since we met…” You trail off, catching yourself, unsure if you want to finish that sentence.

Oscar raises an eyebrow, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Since we met…what?” he asks, leaning a little closer, his gaze locked onto yours.

The words almost spill out—how you can’t help but think he looks like an angel when he smiles, or how sometimes you wonder what it would be like to kiss him in a moment like this, your mind drifting to the memory of the two of you dancing in the rain, soaked and laughing as if it’s just the two of you in the world.

But you’re not sure you’re ready for that. Not with the performance so close, and definitely not when he’s standing here looking at you like that.

Though what that is, you can’t say. Or maybe you’re still too scared to find out.

Instead, you manage a small smile, shrugging. “I don’t know…since we met, it’s just been…magic,” you say quietly, the word barely louder than a whisper.

There’s a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes, something soft and almost vulnerable, and then he smiles. “Yeah…yeah, I know what you mean,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. He’s close now, close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from him, and for a second, it feels like maybe you’re not the only one feeling this.

It takes everything in you not to lean in, not to close the distance. Instead, you look away, your heart racing. "So…you’ll be there? For the performance?"

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says, his voice sincere, and the way he’s looking at you makes it feel like maybe he means more than just the performance.

When the open mic comes, you’re almost a wreck, nervous and excited all at once. When the night of the open mic finally arrives, you’re a mix of nerves and excitement, feeling each second tick by as the lights dim and the hum of the audience grows. Backstage, you tighten your grip on your guitar, casting one last look through the curtain to see if he’s there. But he isn’t.

A pang of disappointment settles into your chest. You tell yourself he’s probably just running late and that any second, he’ll slip in, giving you that half-smile he always has when he knows he’s kept you waiting. But a part of you can’t shake the small, sinking feeling that maybe…maybe you were hoping for too much.

But Oscar’s never let you down. And you don’t think he’d start now.

When your turn comes, you take a deep breath and step onto the stage, feeling the warmth of the spotlight, and yet the crowd feels distant—none of them the person you want there the most. Settling into your seat, you scan the room one last time, but he’s still not there.

With a quiet sigh, you look down at your guitar, anchoring yourself in the familiar strings, the melody you’ve practiced countless times. You close your eyes, letting the weight of your feelings pour into the chords, filling every note with the things you’ve never been able to say.

Your voice starts soft, and as you sing, memories start playing in your mind. You think of meeting him at the Freshman orientation, the awkwardness, the fragility of the budding friendship—but you also think of the way you knew he was gonna be a part of your life, the certainty with which you realized you like having him around.

Hey darling, I know looks can be deceiving, But I know I saw a light in you And as we walked, we would talk, And I didn’t say half the things I wanted to.

You picture him beside you, the way his voice dips low when he’s teasing, the way his hand always seems to find yours in crowded spaces, like it’s second nature to him. A small smile tugs at your lips as you sing, the words becoming more and more specific to your story with him.

The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you say my name It's beautiful, wonderful—don’t you ever change.

Each word spills out, heavy and vulnerable, leaving you bare as you play. Every line is something you’ve kept close, something you’ve been afraid to say, and it’s only now, on this stage, that you’re finally able to let it out.

Hey darling, why are people always leaving? I think you and I should stay the same.

Each note, each line is a confession, a quiet vulnerability you let slip through the melody, hoping he hears it—wherever he is.

As you near the song’s climax, your gaze sweeps over the crowd, people swaying in time with the music, and then, finally, you see him.

He’s standing near the entrance, face slightly flushed, like he’s just rushed in, but he’s there, his eyes fixed on you with a look that sends a surge of warmth straight to your chest.

When he catches you looking, he raises his hand in a small wave, a hint of that familiar grin on his lips. The weight on your chest lifts and you feel a renewed sense of purpose, like you’re the only two people in the room, your voice steadying as your gaze stays locked on his.

Hey darling, I could give you 50 reasons why I should be the one you choose.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you can’t help but imagine all those reasons, each one racing through your mind. You could probably give him more than fifty—and every one of them would be true.

All those other girls, well, they're beautiful, but would they write a song for you?

When you sing that line, he chuckles, shaking his head slightly. The sight makes you laugh, your voice softening as you step into the final chorus, feeling like every word has finally found its rightful place.

'Cause I can't help it if you look like an angel Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain So, come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you Can't help it if there's no one else

The last notes hang in the air as you let the final chords fade, your fingers gently leaving the strings. The song comes full circle, wrapping up with the melody that began beneath the oak tree, when you first decided to give this song to him.

The applause swells, and you stand, bowing before making your way backstage, where you know he’ll be waiting. Heart pounding, you step through the curtain, and there he is, leaning against the wall, hands behind his back, looking at you with a combination of expressions you’ve never quite seen on him before—soft, maybe a little nervous, with a hint of pride shining in his eyes.

“You’re late,” you tease, unable to keep the grin off your face.

He smiles sheepishly and, with a slight flourish, pulls a bouquet of your favorite flowers from behind his back. “Turns out flower shops are in high demand on nights like this.”

Your heart melts a little as you take the bouquet, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of the flowers. “You’re forgiven,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

He rolls his eyes in playful relief. “Good. You get cranky when you’re mad.” He chuckles as you give him a slight nudge. “C’mon let’s get out of here. Dinner’s on me.”

You nod, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and relief, and hurry to pack up your guitar. As you walk out together, his hand finds its place gently but firmly on your hip, guiding you toward the door. And if you notice the way he pulls you just a little closer, his fingers lingering as if they belong there, you don’t say anything—you just smile and let yourself fall.

For once, maybe things are exactly as they should be.

Dinner’s casual, nothing too fancy, but there’s a shift in the air. He’s more forward now, his fingers brushing against yours with a confidence you haven’t seen before. He holds your hand a little tighter, his gaze lingering on your lips more often than it ever has.

Lando was right. You knew it. And so did he.

The meal feels familiar—easy laughter, the same teasing banter, inside jokes that still land with ease. But beneath it all, there’s an unspoken tension, a hum in the air that keeps the silence between you both louder than it should be. It’s the quiet weight of a confession that hasn’t been made, but you both feel it there, just waiting for the right moment.

He links your fingers together as you walk back toward your dorm. The night feels like it’s stretching out, slow and deliberate, each step bringing you closer to something inevitable.

You break the silence first.

“When did you come in?” You ask, glancing up at him.

“A little bit before you sang…” He clears his throat, his smile teasing. He sings the line with a laugh, "The way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name, it's beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change."

You groan, embarrassed, but can’t help smiling at how effortlessly he teases you. He laughs, full of heart, and says, “I loved every moment of it.”

“Good,” you reply, the words simple but carrying everything you want to say. You lean a little closer, just enough for him to feel the shift in the air between you.

As you reach your door, you stop, heart racing in your chest. You look at him, trying to gauge what he’s feeling, the question that’s been swirling in your mind now impossible to keep inside.

“Did you get it then? What I meant to say?”

Oscar’s expression softens, and he steps closer, his hand gently covering yours where it rests on your guitar. “Y/N,” he says, his voice low, “I think I got the message loud and clear.”

Before you can say anything, his fingers brush your cheek, his touch so soft it sends a shiver through you. The world feels like it’s slowing down, the noise of the night receding into the background as he leans in just a little closer. “Play me the song again,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, “So I can hear it in full.”

You chuckle, your heart fluttering in your chest. “I should’ve just written a song with fifty reasons why it should be me.”

He shakes his head, a soft smile playing at his lips as his thumb brushes against your skin. “You didn’t need fifty reasons. Just one would’ve been enough.”

“And what would that reason be?” You ask, your breath catching in your throat.

“Because I love you too.”

And then, before you can process anything more, he’s kissing you. It’s soft, tender—like the final note to a song you’ve been playing in your heart for what feels like forever. You melt into the kiss, the world around you vanishing as he pulls you closer, his arms wrapped around you, grounding you in a way that feels like home.

In that quiet moment, as the sounds of the night drift into the background, you realize it was always meant to be this way. All the magic, all the feelings have been there since the day you met.

Everything falls exactly into place.

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri #op81 #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #formula one #f1 x reader #✩ allie's writing ✩

189 notes · View notes

gurugirl · 2 months ago

Text

DEVIL DICK | a preview

Full one-shot posted on Patreon only!

devil dick: a man who doesn't have much to offer, but he gives it his all between the sheets and keeps 'em coming back for more.

. . .

"That's devil dick," Regi said. "Dick so good it gets you hooked and coming back for more but that's all he has, ya know? So, of course, he's giving it a hundred in bed. He's got nothing else. No job or money…"

The sticky sweet, electric blue cocktail you were sipping on was doing its job. Ethanol molecules passing through the barrier of your bloodstream and the area of your brain responsible for controlling your central nervous system caused that familiar feeling of intoxication to take over.

In other words, your normally high-functioning brain, along with its good judgment was being temporarily impaired.

But that's exactly what you wanted.

It was Friday night at one of the many popular bars downtown. You had no rhyme or reason for choosing this one. You just did. And when you found yourself a spot at the end of the bar all you knew was that you were going to have three, or maybe four, cocktails and then call it a night.

The bartender suggested their Friday night $6 special, the name of which you had already forgotten. But it was tasty; a little tart and a lot sweet. Coconutty. You could pretend you were somewhere in the Caribbean on vacation. Maybe an island off of Cartagena somewhere, basking in the sun and watching the ocean lap into the white sands.

But actually, you'd rather be right where you were in the big city sipping your shitty drink on your uncomfortable stool with terrible music pumping from the speakers.

Why? Because of the curly-haired man that was a few people down and catty-corner to you at the bar. The one who kept looking at you like he wanted the same thing you did. He was drinking a brown liquor. Whisky, brandy, or rum perhaps. Neat.

His big hand wrapped around the glass as he eyed you from his spot and he sipped up the intoxicant in much the same way you were nursing your own.

No words needed to be spoken as you emptied your third cocktail. He raised his tattooed arm to call the bartender to close out his tab. And then he pointed at you, pink lips moving, curving around his vowels slowly as he spoke.

You already knew what this was. You and the man had been communicating with your eyes and body language for the past hour and now he was paying your tab and that meant you were about to leave with him.

It was a good thing that your inhibitions were lowered. The ethanol effectively neutralizing your brain's don't-do-that switch.

Your card was returned and you stepped off the stool just as Mr. Pink Lips approached, giving you a hand to steady yourself before he followed you out of the bar, hand at your low back.

The night air did nothing to sober you up when you finally turned to speak, "Thank you for getting my drinks in there."

He grinned, "You're welcome. I'm Harry."

You slid your palm against his and introduced yourself, "What now, Harry?"

"Got a place we can go to?"

"Um… yeah. We can go to mine."

Harry bought your drinks so you got the taxi. Normally you wouldn't bring strangers back to yours but, again, your neurotransmitters weren't firing off as quickly as they normally did. And you were horny and he was fine as hell.

Sitting with your thigh glued to his in the backseat of the car he wrapped his palm around your neck ever so gently and tilted your head back before sliding his lips against yours. The gesture was dominant, forceful, but he wasn't rough. It felt like he knew what he wanted and you'd let him have it for the night.

. . .

Interested in more? 👀 Consider joining my Patreon!

xoxo

187 notes · View notes

woso-dreamzzz · 10 months ago

Text

Flirts III

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen

Summary: You have doubts

You don't know when you start getting doubts.

You don't know why you start getting doubts either. There's no catalyst for it. There's no rhyme or reason.

Just, one day, when you're across the country working on a surgery, the thoughts come to mind.

Ingrid and Mapi just fit together. They have a push and pull that balances them so well. You can't help but wonder if you're ruining the balancing act.

You're the interloper here even if they were the ones that pursued you. Maybe you've made this into a bigger thing than they expected. Maybe they thought that they were just going to give you the best sex of your life and disappear into the sunset and you just got your claws into them and they were staying with you out of politeness.

Your thoughts aren't rational, you know this, but they still swirl in your mind when you return to Barcelona and break down in tears in your cousin's arms.

She looks more shocked and worried than the time you made her babysit your puppy.

"I love them," You choke out suddenly after several minutes of uncontrollable sobs," I love them so much."

"Mapi and Ingrid?" Patri asks," I don't see the issue here."

That just makes you cry harder. "I don't know if they love me back!"

"You're not making any sense," Patri says," Why wouldn't they love you back?"

"I don't know!" You snap. You're a bit annoyed that Patri's clearly not taking this as seriously as you'd like her to. "They're always together, at work, at home. I'm not around them as much! How could they possibly love me as much as I love them?!"

Patri grabs you by the arms and shakes you a bit. "You're overthinking, again. They love you even if they haven't said it yet. I know they do!"

"But how?!"

"Because I'm the smart one between us!"

You let out a little laugh as you wipe your eyes. "I think my degree in veterinary medicine would disagree with you there."

Even with Patri's reassurances, you still felt a little wary. But you pushed through it. Your cousin was many things but she wasn't a liar.

You definitely kept your distance a little bit though. You wait a few minutes to reply to messages, just to see if they'd take invitations back. You don't smother them in affection like you want to. You don't make the first move in anything.

"Are you coming to the match tomorrow?" Mapi asks one evening as you all sip wine on the terrace.

"Do you want me to?"

Ingrid sits up from where she was lazing around. She places her wine glass down on the table and captures your hands with hers. Her fingers gently rub over your knuckles.

"Why do you sound so unsure?" She asks," Hmm? What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on."

Her gaze turns cold and she pulls you to face her by your chin. "Don't lie to me," She says firmly," Or I'll have to remind you what happens to girls that do."

Your throat bobs at the reminder and you wiggle in your seat.

Mapi's moved closer to your other side, a hand resting on your thigh.

"What's going on?" She asks," You've been distant for days now. Even Patri's noticed it. She came to talk to us in training, did you know? If something's happened, you have to tell us or we can't help."

"Nothing's happened," You deny," Honest. I don't know...I just..."

"Just?"

"I love you," You declare suddenly, shocking even yourself with the conviction you say it," Both of you." The words hang in the air for a moment and you think this is it. It's gotten too real for them both. This is when they break up with you.

You squeeze your eyes tight.

Mapi moves behind you, her lips brushing up against the shell of your ear as she whispers," Good. We love you too, amor."

Ingrid's smirking when you open your eyes and she drags you in for a bruising kiss. It's sloppy as she slips her tongue into your mouth. When you pull away, you're panting.

"You're coming to the game, right?" Ingrid asks even though she already knows the answer.

You nod.

You end up in Ingrid's jersey for the match. Partly because it was the first one you saw that morning and partly because you knew that it made Mapi absolutely feral.

You wouldn't ever say that you understood football no matter how many times Patri tried to explain it to you but you could admit that you liked the way it made your girlfriends all flushed and sweaty by the end of the ninety minutes.

Ingrid's arms wrap easily around your waist as she helps you jump the barrier. She brings you into a kiss that's bordering the line of indecent in public and you barely have time to react before your head is turned and Mapi's kissing you too.

Her hand tugs on your shirt. "You're wearing Ingrid's jersey," She groans against your lips," God, amor, what are you doing to me?"

"You like?" You tease.

"I love."

Mapi pulls you for another kiss and this one is definitely not fit for the public as Ingrid rests easily on your back, your hips in an iron grip by her hands.

"You've gotten her riled up," Ingrid scolds though her tone is light and joking," We'll have to get out of her quickly before she make a scene."

"You're already making a scene," Pina complains from where she's standing nearby with Patri.

"Stop tonguing my cousin!" Patri says," It's disgusting! I told you not to do that where I could see it."

Mapi rolls her eyes. "And I told you to stop trying to police our relationship. You're not as intimidating as you think you are, amiga."

"I am so intimidating!"

"Patri," You laugh," I once saw you slip over an empty coke can and land in a bin. You're the least intimidating person I know."

She grumbles before pointing warning fingers at both of your girlfriends and storming off, pulling a laughing Pina in tow.

"She's so annoying," Mapi complains and you swat her.

"Hey, that's still my cousin. Be nice."

"She's not being nice to us!"

"Girls," Ingrid laughs," Come on. Let's get home." She smirks. "I think that we can spend our time doing something apart from arguing about Patri."

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

683 notes · View notes

myrquez · 4 months ago

Text

In Motogp there’s so much money involved, performance anxiety dominates and builds up barriers. Everyone retreats into their own pack, nothing is done together anymore. And I just adapt to it, according to the theory that it’s better to be alone than to be in a group full of fake smiles. But relationships among athletes aren’t only the ones made via some direct, classic form of communication. In sport you can actually enter into communication with someone through other ways that are more mediated but, in some cases, even more profound. With Márquez, for example, we aren’t technically friends. We think highly of each other, we respect each other, we smile to each other when one sees the other one, over the past year he’s been very fair to me, often defining me as an ideal opponent. I think it’s because he knows that I can race him very hard, but always within the rules. Which is, even if for many may not seem like it, exactly the same thing he always did while racing against me. Marc may look crazy, but he actually stands out from clichés and defies physics laws in good conscience. Unlike other riders — those reckless ones with no sense of limit, who after a crash often say “I don’t know why I crashed” — Márquez knows very well why he crashes. He often precisely crashes on purpose, just to explore that limit. He does some experiments first, then goes on to elaborate his theory. In a way, he’s an empiricist exactly like my dad was, when he purposely kept taking more and more steps forward on the track to teach me how and where to brake. It’s just that in this case, it’s the rider that does it. I like Marc. And I interpreted our famous duels in 2017 as a means to get to know each other better. In Austria and Japan we indeed were extreme, but not crazy. Adventures-seekers who like to push themselves to the limit, but not insane and neither unfair to each other […] Deep down, he isn’t irresponsible, even if he often looks for some maneuvers that have no rhyme or reason. Theoretically, and practically, they don’t make any sense. Yet I never get angry about it, not even that time in Zeltweg when it looked like I told him to fuck off. It surprises me, instead, to see what he tried to do to get a win, something like “I can’t believe it”, an amazed curiosity to see how he tried to move into this uncharted territory, the same one where, thanks to him, I consequently went into as the well. And it’s so cool. As if we both dug together a whole new vein of gold: we won’t share the prize, of course, because to keep the gold is my goal, but we still dug through it together as if we were pioneers. And this indeed does create a bond, whatever is it.

And it’s even more incredible because I exactly know what Marc is going to do in that last turn in Zeltweg. Theoretically, he doesn’t have any more weapons to attack me: at this point his Honda has less traction, worn-out tyres, less power; generally speaking, Honda is less suited to this track than Ducati. And yet he got this far, in the end […] I well know that to have Marc right behind you while going through the last corner is way too much of a problem, the worst thing it could happen to you: he’s going to try it anyway anywhere. So I’ll be there, waiting for him […] Even if we’re going at 200 km/h, I can feel upon my skin how meters get marked bit by bit. One after another. I force myself to focus on his engine’s sound to understand when and where he will attack. And when the noise is there, almost unbearable, I brake hard and leave him a bit of space on the inside line, to force him to exaggerate a bit and then overtake him in acceleration. It’s almost as if I just accepted his invite, just to deceive him later. It might look like it’s just a technical challenge, or a stunt one, but it’s actually about mind games, an hand in glove tied relationship in which our minds get connected. As in bull and bullfighter kind of way. Or, in a I know that you know that I know kind of way. To get a win in this way is a much more difficult thing to achieve, but it is much more cooler as well. When Marc gets on the inside Iine I just know that I made it, because he’s a champion, but he cannot overcome the laws of psychic. My plan gets fulfilled and the dissolving noise of his bike as he goes wide resonates with liberation. That’s when I make that gesture, automatically. Fuck off, you just got played! Real subtitle is: what did you make me do, you bastard? It’s my third win this year. It’s now clear that I am the one challenging Márquez for the title. But to me this doesn’t matter. Like it doesn’t matter that much how I just won against the one who is recognized as the hand-to-hand duels master […] What matters most is that this race has been a way to get to know each other better. Márquez, with his usual Joker smile, confesses that if he hadn’t tried to surpass me he wouldn’t have slept at all that night. That’s what perfectly defines what he is: as long as he is breathing, he will try to pass you even if he had to go through a wall.

In Motegi it isn’t that different. Here, as well, Márquez is struggling a bit more than me, but I am sure he is going to try it in the last corner. Why shouldn’t he? We’ve been “beating” each other as if there was no tomorrow for the last six laps, in some apocalyptic conditions: heavy rain, curling-like grip, no visibility at all […] Ten minutes ago I wouldn’t have thought we’d get to this point, but as soon as Márquez did a little mistake I got back on track and now we’re here, us again. Ehi, Marc, how are you doing? Our connection in Zeltweg has been restored on the other side of the world. It’s now clear that everything that is going to happen now would not be possible without the other’s collaboration. Like two alpinists in a rope team, we will get ‘till the last meter together. We overtake and we get overtaken. We give and we take. We sting like bees, fly like butterflies, and more than anything we hit like blacksmiths. At Turn 10, I change my trajectory: I’ve been studying Marc for quite a lot from behind and now I imitate him, going a bit wider. This allows me to get into Turn 11 very fast, ready for my strong suit: braking. That’s how I easily overtake him. The Ducati is very stable, everything is under control. I’d be sure to get a win at that point but an alarm goes off in my mind: I won’t give it to you this easily. Exactly. Last corner is on the right. Giving my position it’s obvious that there isn’t any physical space to get on the inside, but imagine if he does really give a damn. When I’m about to lean into the Turn, Marc abruptly arrives out of nowhere as gracefully as Hulk in a china shop. It’s not even a dirty try, more like a circus number: his engine’s noise getting closer echoes into my helmet like the drum rolls that comes just before a trapeze artist jumps. Ladies and gentlemen, Marc Márquez! Where the fuck do you want to go? You’re still sitting straight, I’m already leaning: don’t you see that we’re touching? I don’t know how, but I keep the bike in control. I suspend my maneuver for a millisecond, just enough to let him slide on the outside as I go on riding through the apex. At that point he’s way too wide, he pulls half of a miracle by leaning all on the right to keep his bike on track but has no margin for anything else. Farewell, bye, goodbye. I win today. Again. After the finish line, we stop near the track side by side. Our gloves touch. Contact. Knowledge of the other has deepened. Relationship was preserved. Despite everything, no one cut the rope and we got to the mountaintop together. It’s an awesome feeling. That’s exactly the sport that I would always like. Especially because I won. On TV I eventually admit that to win against Márquez in what he does best really excites me: this is the boost that I need for the climb to the championship, at only 11 points from the lead. Marc showers me with compliments and says that it’s awesome to battle with me for the title, the living proof that professionalism and hard work pay off. He calls me a good guy as well, and I forgive him. Actually, no. Why should I be ashamed [of being a good guy]? To pretend to be a bad guy is something that everybody can do. To actually be one when it’s needed, and to do it with a certain style, it’s something for the few.

— andrea dovizioso talking about his relationship and his duels with marc márquez in asfalto (2018)

#THIS TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG i gave away my sweat tears and blood #andrea made my life SO difficult in just three pages #this is a very (un)serious dovquez masterpost #still speechless. wish i could translate it better. he’s insane #andrea dovizioso #marc marquez #dovquez #asfalto

157 notes · View notes

pumpkinbxtch · 7 months ago

Text

𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰

— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

☆ radiostar is playin': forever always by the driver era…!

warnings: none taglist: @emidpsandia

He, apparently, was dead missing.

"He went alone on the mission with Python. He hasn't returned for three days now." A month later, Meg contacted you through an Iris message and explained everything that had happened. A month later and the days passed, nobody knew about him.

"We only know that he retrieved all the Oracles and the gifts of prophecy returned," Chiron told you, and Dionysus, for the first time, looked nervous and worried about his brother.

But if Apollo had succeeded in his mission, where was he? You hadn't dreamed of him either. Days went by and your anxiety grew.

"I didn't agree, but my brother insisted on pushing him to the limit," Poseidon said seriously, and Percy replied, "I think he took it too literally, don't you?" You suppressed a groan while your father scolded your brother with his gaze. Python was gone forever, but they knew nothing of Apollo.

"It's okay, it's only been five days," you thought, but you realized that every day you did it with a new number and without any news until almost two weeks had passed... Honestly, you didn't know how many times you had cried in all that time, you didn't even bother to hide it, and even your roommate requested a room change.

Lately, the time was bad in every sense. Thunder rumbled, and you hugged the pillow tighter, tears already rolling down your cheeks. The room was colder than usual; after all, you were alone in it. You accompanied yourself with the dim light of your desk lamp, and the flash of lightning illuminated the darkest corners. You realized you were crying over too many things, everything was very recent, you hadn't even finished processing Jason's death, and those lightning bolts... all they did was remind you of it.

"Wasn't it enough with him?" You wondered as you let out your sobs. Jason was his son just like Apollo, and if he led them both to death just to reaffirm his authority to everyone, you had no doubts that Zeus was a cruel father. The thunder shook the window, and you closed your eyes in anger, not retracting anything, even if Zeus annihilated you with one of his lightning bolts, you would never do so. Probably beyond, on Olympus, your own father struggled with annoyance with his brother, but even if Poseidon wasn't half the father that Paul was to you and Percy, he would never allow you to be harmed.

Your tennis sounded against the wet sand of the path leading to your favorite café. You walked in a ghost town with a hollow chest and the cold penetrating your bones, but it didn't matter because you already felt like those skeletons that Nico brought to the surface when he was in a bad mood; anyway, you moved forward to have a hot chocolate, it was Sunday, you had to have enough strength for classes the next day.

— Here it is — the lady said when you had just formed in line at the bar. You frowned and shook your head.

— Surely it's for someone else, I just got in line.

The girl smiled and looked at the label.

— Hot chocolate? —she asked in the waiting line, and no one recognized it, she returned to you and handed it to you again. — It was ordered in advance.

A joke from Frank? Frank didn't make jokes. But if it were, how did he know what you wanted?

You took it and looked at the label, it had a sun drawn on it that made you purse your lips. "Of course, it had to be," you thought bitterly and walked back taking the long way, the one that passed by the small Tiber.

The sunlight barely reflected on the water after all it was covered by the clouds, and you sighed as you looked at the huge body of water, your chest hurt. How did this happen? You would be better off if you hadn't entered that Grove, but you had to do your will, but you wouldn't have had those days with Apollo, which provoked mixed emotions in you again.

"this rhymes for him were different, but he hopes for put that ring and find what he's been missing."

— If you wanted to marry me so much, come back and do it — you murmured with your nose buried in your scarf and tears stinging your eyes. You cut your step and faced the river that continued to shine coldly, the small cup you held slipped from your hands with each sob, and when you let out the first whimper, you let it go. However, it didn't fall. You gasped, and when you looked beside you, your breath left you.

Of those brown curls, only a few remained mixed with the blond ones, of the freckles you counted that last time you had him too close, there were only about three hundred instead of a thousand. He was taller, and his body more athletic, but he wore the same Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans from the knees. His smile was big and triumphant, the same blue eyes you had been waiting to see were just trying to memorize your fractions in the same way you were doing with him.

— And are you serious or are you just fooling me?— His voice. You threw yourself into his arms without considering if he could be hurt, but judging by how he looked... then you took him by the shoulders, he foolishly thought you would kiss him, but you just leaned back and kicked him in the chest with the skill that only you could have.

He groaned on the ground in a fetal position, and seconds later, he rose on his elbows with a confused look.

— Idiot — you shouted as you walked towards him and knelt to be at his height. Apollo couldn't help but smile like an idiot, and you couldn't help but hug him again. — Where the hell were you?

Your whimpering caused guilt in his chest, and he took care of your head as both lay back on the grass. He stroked your hair as you clung to his chest, wishing his scent would imprint on you to never forget it.

— Hey…— He called you, and you looked up, noticing tears in his eyes too. You cupped his cheek and, before he could say anything else, you kissed him. The first kiss. He closed his eyes, completely surrendered to you, feeling like he could finally breathe freely after months. When your soft lips left his, he held you tightly, burying his face in your neck. You couldn't see it, but Apolo had a flushed face and a knot in his stomach.

But you didn't need to see it, because as he hid in you, the sun broke through the clouds, shining brightly, almost lighting up the whole world with brighter colors than before. It was with that detail that you confirmed he had become a god again, and his feelings were showing to you in too many ways.

— I…— You spoke after several minutes of silence, causing him to sit properly on the grass with you, holding your hand. — I do want to be with you. I'm not just messing around, just so we're clear.

— Do you have an alternative? — He joked, and you gently pushed him while nervously looking at your hands.

— Fool.

— For you, of course — he cooed as he took your chin in his hand and forced you to look at him. His cheeks were still flushed, but you noticed that his skill to seduce without seeming like an inexperienced teenager had returned, and that's where your first jealousy arose because you wished only you could have that side of him.

— And only for me, I'm sure — you grumbled under your breath at having that thought, and he laughed.

— I was born to love only you, believe me.— Apollo said, getting up and offering his hand to help you. — And just like art, I'll be faithful to you.

— Wow, what a great poet — you took his hand, and he took you by the waist, bending down to touch his nose to yours. You never believed in the expression "like a Greek god" until he looked at you in that way.

— Are you going to marry me? — He stroked your nose with his while gently squeezing your waist. You nodded silently like a fool, and he gave you a peck on the lips with a smirk. — I just wanted to make sure, but actually, I don't need any of that to be devoted to you. You're everything to me.

He took your hand and led you along the edge of the small Tiber, which now shone fervently.

•

— Apollo! — You shouted from the reception of the mansion on Olympus, closing the big door forcefully and looking at your husband playfully peeking behind his throne.

— Yes, dear? — You pursed your lips and approached him.

— Where are my things?

— Which ones? — He played dumb, and you sighed.

— From my bedroom at the university, where are they?

—In your room...— you raised an eyebrow — here.

You growled and pulled him to come out from behind the throne.

— I told you it would be until I graduated.

Apollo pouted and slumped his shoulders.

—But I miss you.

You smiled and hugged him.

— I miss you too, but— you stepped back and showed the ring on your ring finger —I have this, darling, and that's enough to scare off my classmates. I don't need to come down from Olympus every day when I can be in the dorms.

Apollo nodded regretfully.

— Alright, alright...— he snapped his fingers and smiled at you — everything is already in your silly university dorm.

You smiled and gave him a kiss. As you started making your way to the exit, he sighed.

— I'll see you tonight — he shouted, and you turned around smiling.

The Sun illuminates the beauty of the sea but never tries to contain it, and the sea shows the sun that even in the stormiest moments or the darkest nights, its light never fades.

#trials of apollo #apollo pjo #apollo pjo x reader #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #pjo #lester papadopoulos #lester papadopoulos x reader #apollo x reader #apollo x you #apollo x y/n #lester papadopoulos x you

231 notes · View notes

vibratingskull · 2 months ago

Text

Honestly, Thrawn needs to be terribly smitten to tease her about her crush like that 👀 I am here for it, I love smitten Thrawn!

Thrawn x F!reader

"You cannot play this card on top of the one I played, Commander (F/n).” Grand Admiral Thrawn tightly smiles.

You look at him up and down incredulous, before slouching back against the shuttle wall in complete defeat.

“Maker...” You falsely cry “I can’t understand what I can and cannot play.”

Thrawn shakes his head, rearranging his own hand. You look at the game lying on the mattress before you, trying to find the logic and pattern to play correctly. This is a Chiss card game playable alone or with partners and Thrawn was allowed to snatch a pack before his exile .

To not become crazy right away, you imagine...

This is a beautiful deck of cards with delicate acrylic paintings of flowers from Chiss worlds and Cheuhn written on it with a number.

But you cannot read Cheuhn, which is a core mechanic.

Thrawn explained the rules four times and you agreed to play without understanding a single thing so as not to drain his patience, but you went completely blind, not understanding the rhymes and reasons for each stroke.

Thrawn appears quite amused as you pull your hair out before these cards.

“Let me see your hand, I will guide you.” He leans towards you to get a better view of your cards.

You look at him scandalized, pressing the carefully drawn cards against your breast to hide them from his eyes.

“I can’t! Then you will know all my hand and obliterate me entirely!” You protest.

His gaze meets yours as he squints, gauging you, taking back his former position without departing from his small grin.

“I am already winning.”

You wince, looking at your hand. There are families, orders, and classes of cards, something about which colors can go on which colors, and then there is the matter of numbers. You sigh, if only you could read Cheuhn you could offer a better combat to the Grand Admiral, but you are clueless in this language!

“You’ll see! I will beat you!” You grumble, the smoke of deep focus evacuating via your ears.

“I admire your tenacity, Commander.”

You accepted to play this game to entertain and please your superior, and because playing something culturally significant for him gives you the illusion of being close to that remarkable man.

Maybe, just maybe, you are one of the very few in the Empire who got the privilege to play this game with him... All alone in this borderline claustrophobic shuttle.

You are back from a stealth mission and Commodore Faro almost tried to prevent him from going himself and to keep him safe behind the thick walls of the Chimaera. But like you, she knows that when he decides something, nothing will make him budge.

Not even his personal security.

If a mission of any nature needs him specifically, he will go as many times as needed, Grand Admiral or not!

And you hold him in high regard for that! So many higher officers hide behind their ranks to not descend to the meatgrinder, but Grand Admiral Thrawn goes in, gets his hands dirty and the work done! You have so much respect for him! For his cunning attitude, intelligence, and of course his tactical genius! Serving under him is the highest honor and privilege of your career!

No...

Of your whole life!

And the fact that he requested you among his entire crew to follow and help him in this mission flatters your ego better than any praise or medals, sending your heart into an absolute frenzy! He noticed you and your competencies and judged you trustworthy enough to help and protect his life.

You gulp to try and calm down and pick one red flower card, but before putting it down you show it to Thrawn. He gently shakes his head.

“Neither.”

You sigh, your shoulders lowering, detailing your flowers trying to find the ones you can put down.

“Do you want to start over or play an Imperial card game?” He proposes mercifully.

“No!” You decide, “No, no, no, no, no, no! I got this, I will find the right ones and beat you!” You greet your teeth.

This is just a stupid game! A game with flowers no less! An Imperial officer should be able to understand and play such a card game!

“This is not an easy game, Commander. It demands elegance, culture, and tactics, it is imbued with Chiss’ rich traditions and history, you cannot master it in a single trip.”

“Are you implying I lack culture and elegance, Grand Admiral?” You demand, raising your eyebrow at him suspiciously.

He chuckles.

“Absolutely not, Commander (F/n). I was simply noting that it is a game full of meaning for Chiss and you do not have the background to decode entirely.”

Your nostril flares as your hand glides back and forth over your cards. You hesitate, until you choose one out of nowhere and slap it on the the other cards, full of determination.

“This one!”

Thrawn extends his neck to see the card, before nodding in approval.

“You can play this one indeed.”

“Yes!” You shout, excited, “I am starting to get it!”

“You do. A little.” He grins, picks a card from his hand, and places it on the game, “But not enough to win I am afraid. But to be fair, you already play better than our first game, Commander.”

His card doesn’t make sense with the logic flourishing in your brain, meaning you are still not understanding the rules!

You grumble, ready to throw your cards in the air, and walk away from the game. But this is a really small shuttle, you do not even have enough space for a table and chairs, which is why you are playing on the lower mattress of the sleeping cabin, so close to your Grand Admiral, his higher body heat slowly warming up the microscopic room with waves as his heart calmly pumps blood...

Very close.

Dangerously close even.

Way too close for your sanity and for you to fully focus on those game rules! How could you focus on game tactics when you are forced to be physically close to such a man?

To your crush?

To the dearest to your heart?

You remember the Grand Admiral or Commodore Faro mentioning Chiss can see heat signals on someone’s face and body, and you are praying really, really hard it is a lie or that you misheard! Because if it is true...

“Your turn, (F/n).” Thrawn calls you back to reality.

You look down at the game where he laid a violet flower card with the number three.

Again, no rhyme or reason found in your scrambled brain...

“You seem unfocused.” Thrawn’s deep voice reaches your ears, flustering you even more.

You pick a new card and show him again, trying to get a grip of yourself and not melt on the sheets at each of his suave words.

He shakes his head, his small smile still on his lips.

“Explain to me the logic of your tactic.” He demands softly, “I will lead you.”

“I will be honest, at that point I just choose pretty cards and hope they can work.” You laugh at yourself.

He squints at you, his shining red eyes providing as much light as the bulbs around the small sleeping room. But his grin remains...

“You mean you let art guide your choice?” He demands.

“I guess I do, Sir.” You laugh more, “I am sure you can understand me on this one!”

“Indeed I do.” He seems to approve of your ‘tactic’, despite it making no sense, “Do you allow me a little experiment?” He inquires, his position subtly shifting.

“Sure.” You shrug.

“I will let you play any cards you want without telling you if it is in accordance with the rules.”

“But... Then we are not playing anymore. This party will lose all of its meaning.” You tilt your head.

“Please,” He gently insists, “Humor me...(Y/n).”

You gulp.

Grand Admiral Thrawn very rarely uses your first name and when he does it is really serious.

“All right...” You accept, a bit on edge.

Is that you or did he just... slightly get closer?

Nah, it’s surely you!

You put a new card down.

He responds.

You lay a second you find quite pretty and he tilts his head at it before adding one of his.

It continues for several exchanges, your eyes focus on the paintings, trying to pair his cards with yours, making pleasant pairs of flowers like you would make a bouquet.

You raise back your eyes to look at your Grand Admiral, tense and nervous. But he appears quite relaxed, in total control, and he responds to each card without hesitations. He harbors the exact same expression he has when hunts down your enemies, serein, focused, determined, making you melt on the spot.

You try your best not to let your inner turmoil appear, but being so close to him is a real trial! Again, you beg whatever superior being that might exist that Chiss can’t read heat signals because your face must be bright red in his eyes right now!

He sits closer on the mattress, worsening your situation.

“Fascinating.” He murmures, “Absolutely... Enlightening.”

“What? What can you see?” You demand, feeling a peek of stress in your body and a cold, nervous sweat on the back of your neck.

He does not answer but keeps responding to each card you put down. You keep going, wondering what he is testing.

Or rather, you know that he is testing you, obviously, but what part of you is he analyzing like that? What can he discover through a card game? You know he can derive crazy tactics with art pieces, but can he psychoanalyze someone just with their choice of flower pictures?

Can he psychoanalyze you?

You feel your blood beating in your temple and rib cage, your palms getting sweaty as the rest of your body with such tension. Thrawn naturally higher body temperature doesn’t help one bit! And he is so close, his musk fills your nose and invades your lungs making you see stars...

You internally shake your head, like he would ever look at you differently than a subaltern! Do not confuse and hurt yourself with such ‘What if?’ scenario girl!

Focus on the cards!

At some point, having gathered so much momentum, you both lay your cards at the same instant and your hands brush inadvertently. You take yours away right this second, but Thrawn’s hand hovers over the cards on the grounds for a second longer like he was shocked.

You bite your lips, turning your head towards him in hopes you did not offend him but you discover his gorgeous face illuminated with a contented, cheeky smile. Your eyes round up at that sight!

Why might he smile in such a way? He looks... Satisfied?

At least he isn’t disgusted or offended by anything he saw in these cards. That is a relief! But why such a pleased expression? What is he seeing?

You loom over the cards to look at them closely, trying to solve that riddle by yourself.

“Can I see your last card?” He asks gently.

You look down at your hand, realizing you only have one card left indeed. You look at it. It is not exactly a flower but a plant of large green leaves with blue veins, and pearly red buds on a stem. You turn the card to his sight, question in your eyes.

His tight smile simply stretches ever so slightly and his red eyes are now shining so much his pupils are invisible in the deep red light.

“Truly enthralling...” That is his only comment.

“What? Will you tell me what this is all about?” You ask on the edge of your seat.

“Maybe...”

You pout. His satisfied expression doesn’t disappear as he unconsciously makes his last card turn between his fingers.

“Can I see yours?” You open your palms to receive it.

He gives it a last glance with a lopsided grin and puts it in his chest pocket, hiding it from you.

“No.”

“That is not fair, Sir!” You protest.

“It is not a matter of fairness, (Y/n). But I thank you for your cooperation, I am thoroughly pleased by my discovery.” He muses, clearly pleased with himself.

Which is quite rare. He usually keeps his mood well hidden behind the mask of professionalism.

You gruff, pressing your knees against your chest, boots on the mattress, pouting even more! He gets to psychoanalyze you all he wants and doesn’t even explain what this is all about!

His hand slides under your chin to gently seize it and make you turn your head towards him.

“Do not sulk, (Y/n). It does not suit your gorgeous face.”

Did...Did he just say that? Or is there a gas leak in the shuttle and you are in a state of delirium, hallucinating this interaction?

“I beg your pardon... Sir?” You inquire in a breath.

His thumb brushes your chin before caressing your lower lips, parting it slightly. You feel your heart ready to burst through your rib cage, goosebumps slowly flourishing on your thin skin.

“This is an interesting idiom you just chose.” A faint purr emanates from his large chest and thick throat, “Begging...”

“It-It is just a simple expression, Sir. It means nothing specific or-”

His thumb caresses your entire lower lips before his large hand moves to grab your cheek gently, almost... Tenderly. You gulp, feeling ready to combust on the spot.

What is going on? Why is he doing that all of a sudden?

Is he...

Flirting?

With you?

No.

It must be another test! Grand Admiral Thrawn doesn’t ‘flirt’, he doesn’t have the time for that! He doesn’t strike you as the type to go for love stories or even simple flings. This man is focused on his work and the future and nothing else!

Anything else is an unnecessary distraction to him.

But his hand is still gently brushing your cheek right now and he seems to lean forward, closer and closer than your confused self.

“I would enjoy discovering how you... ‘Beg’ in other settings.” He caresses your cheekbone, unmistakably getting closer and closer.

“Sir?!” You gasp, out of your depths.

He tilts his head, cheeky amusement in his burning red eyes.

“What is the matter, (Y/n)? You seem so flustered all of a sudden, am I troubling you?” He asks, his melodious voice going even deeper than usual, with a lascivious tone.

“Are you- Yes you are ?!” You protest, your inner temperature rising dangerously, feeling cornered like prey between the wall and his mighty body.

“You look absolutely adorable flustered in such way. Detailing your expression is such a delight, I feel like I am admiring a masterpiece.”

“You... Wha-why?” You can only mumble as he pushes all the cards off the bed with a large arm movement, getting closer and closer.

You try to go back as he moves forward only for him to grip your shoulders and push you against the mattress, hovering over you completely. You feel your heart drumming almost painfully in your chest as he devours you with his red eyes.

Eyes full of dark energies and hunger lies deep down in them. And his stern expression seems harder than usual...

This time he is truly on the hunt.

What the hell is going on?

“Sir?” You let out weakly.

One of his hands releases your shoulder to cup your cheek once again, caressing it fondly. His carnivorous expression softens for a smile to grace his lips.

“I know, (Y/n).” He whispers with a voice so deep you feel your core contracting, making you press your legs to silence it, “I know everything.”

“Wha-What do you know, Sir? I do not understand.” You plead for Reason to come back in this exchange.

“Your feelings... The frenzy of your heart when you look in my direction, the warmth spreading in your body when you are in my vicinity, the tremors of your voice when you speak to me. I know since the beginning.”

Your eyes open like saucers in sheer despair.

“Please, tell me this is a sick joke...” You beg as your throat goes dry instantly.

He KNOWS?

You want to disappear in a mouse hole or for the ground to swallow you entirely! You are going to die of SHAME!

You press your hands on your eyes with a yelp. You can’t look him in the eyes, it would kill you instantly.

For sole response, you only hear a short snigger before feeling warm lips kissing your forehead.

“There is no need to feel ashamed, (Y/n). This is all I ever asked for.”

You separate two fingers to see through them, discovering his handsome face right over yours, his shiny rubies fixated on you like you were a treasure or something.

“... What?” You ask with shameful voice.

He shows you your last card.

“Commitment.” He opens his chest pocket to take out his last card, reveling a pure white flower with golden veins and large delicate petals, “To cherish and adore.”

You observe the two paintings, his translation resonating in your ears like a loud bang. You closed back your fingers, hiding from him again with a whistly breath.

“Do you think this entire situation is an accident?” He tilts his head, amused, “I chose you for this mission according to my plan, I chose this small shuttle purposefully, we are playing this specific game by my design. I wanted... No, I needed to be sure. I needed to know for certain for whom your heart is beating for (Y/n).” He explains patiently but with an edge to his tone.

Almost like... Pleading.

“Look into my eyes, face me (Y/n). Do not deprive me of your gaze.” He lowers himself to softly kiss your hands still on your eyes, “Let me admire the face of the woman who ravished my heart...”

You cower under him.

What is he even saying?

Was your theory about the gas leak true?

His hand gently grabs yours to pull them out of his way, revealing your flustered visage to his hungry eyes. He lets out a sigh of contentment, kissing the tip of your nose before pressing his forehead with yours, hypnotizing you with his red sight.

“Allow me at least to speak my truth. Whatever happens next is entirely up to you, (Y/n). I will not force you into anything, you have my words.”

You gulp, opening your mouth to at least say something only for your words to die at the gates of your lips.

“I love you, (Y/n). As I stopped hoping to love one day... Having you every day at my side, and having your constant loyal support helped me carry through more than you can ever imagine. Your presence helps calm down my mind and brings peace to my soul, I wish for nothing more but to live the remainder of my life with you...” He confesses, holding your hands close to his heart, “Will you allow it?”

You blink several time, looking at him at a loss for words.

“... Is that a dream?” You can’t help but ask.

He gives you a lopsided snarky grin and pinches your cheek.

“Ouchouchouch! Okay, okay!” You complain.

He releases your cheek to caress it with his knuckles, the dark desires in his eyes melting to something softer and more... Vulnerable.

Hope.

“I am serious, (Y/n). I hoped to get my response during this mission and now I know for certain. But I need your consent to pursue this relationship. Do we have a future together in your heart?”

“I...” You start before falling mute.

Your stomach is in so many knots it is almost painful. Your entire body is tense like a bowstring you feel ready to break.

Grand Admiral Thrawn is confessing to you?

And this is not a dream?

How are you even supposed to respond to that? You are beyond elated, but you did not even dare consider yourself his friend or to have any significance in his eyes and he jumps to sharing the remainder of your lives together?

This is too much at once! You cannot wrap your head around so much at the same time!

“Am I supposed to answer right now?” You ask a little affraid.

He shakes his head with a comforting expression.

“Of course not, (Y/n). You may take all the time you need to answer me, I will wait for you. For years if needs be. But I will be here, to receive and honor your response, whatever it is.”

“All right... Then I will think about it... for a bit.” You nod slowly, trying to pick yourself and your mind up after such a revelation.

A chance he forced you down the mattress, you would have felt dangerously dizzy after his confession...

“Thank you, (Y/n). This means a lot to me.” He brings one of your hands to his lips that he devoutly kisses, his eyes closed like he is savoring this instant, “Do I have your consent to embrace you?” he asks with subtle hopes in the tone.

You consider him for several second before unintentionally sniggering.

“You cornered me, pushed me on the bed, kissed my face and now you are asking my consent for a hug?” You cannot help but mock a little.

“This was incredibly inappropriate and I present you my sincere excuses for my actions. This will not happen again.” He humbly admits, “I will leave you in peace and undisturbed for the rest of the trip.”

True to his words he starts moving away to leave you in peace, but in some sort of panick you can't understand yourself you grab his shoulders to yank him back down, pressing his tall and large body against yours, crushing you under his weight.

You only realize you actually just did that when you reopen your eyes, your head in the crook of his neck, hearing his short breath in your ears.

“Hum...Sorry.” You giggle embarrassed, “I don’t know what came over me just now.”

You do not release him for all that.

“It is all right.” He hums, his arms sneaking under you delicately to hold and embrace you properly for the very first time.

He is so warm and his skin is so smooth and soft against your cheek. You circle his neck and dive your nose in the crook of his neck to inhale his musk again.

Maker how does he smells so good ?

His embrace tightens slightly in response but remains incredibly gentle as you expect from such a delicate and elegant man.

You both remain silent in this small room, holding on to each other like you were the only two tangible beings in the entire universe, until...

“Are you... Purring, Sir?” You ask dumfounded.

The notes of his chuckle rise like a melody in the room as he brushes his nose to your ear.

“Yes, I am.” He admits, “Keep that fact to yourself please, no one but you needs to know that about me.”

“All right, Sir. I will keep it a secret.”

“Please,” He asks lovingly, “Drop the ‘Sir’ and ‘Grand Admiral’ when we are alone. I want you to refer to me as an equal, (Y/n). I want to hear my name with your voice again and again if you allow it...” and he tenderly kisses your exposed neck, sending shiver down your spine.

You do not know where you are going with this. You do not even know how the rest of this trip will unfold between you two.

You just know being in his embrace is the most warm and soft place in the Universe, and you do not want to leave it for a second.

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin@ineedazeezee @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @germie2037 @leo4242564@davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x y/n #fanfic #vibratingskull

77 notes · View notes

augustjustice · 1 year ago

Text

Sharing Smokes Outside the Snow Ball

AO3 Link

It's the Winter of 1999, and Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are standing outside the Hawkins Middle School Snow Ball, sharing a smoke.

Eddie can't believe he's back here, the whole thing feeling nearly as surreal as that nightmare, wayward Spring Break over ten years ago. He'd barely made it out of that hell hole alive, Steve himself practically having to hold Eddie together as they made their way from Forest Hill to Hawkins Memorial Hospital.

Spring had turned into summer, sweltering and oppressive as Eddie slowly, painfully healed.

There had been bright spots, though. Watching Lucas and Erica squabble during the one-shot campaign he had cooked up just for the party that June. Evenings out beside the Harrington's temperature controlled pool, beer bottle sweating in his hand as he traded a joint back and forth between Argyle and Jonathan, the sound of Robin's cackle loud and bright as she managed to hipcheck Steve into the pool. Steve's own blinding smile--a longtime feature of Eddie's secret high school fantasies--being turned on him the first time he made it from the front doors of the physical therapy clinic to the passenger side of his BMW, without needing any help at all.

But then summer had ended, and Eddie, finally back together again like a character out of a children's nursery rhyme, had packed up his van and headed straight to Chicago, not looking back.

Sure, there'd been post cards sent, phone calls to Dustin and the other Hellfire brats, promises to see everyone soon. Promises that Eddie couldn't keep, even if he wanted to.

Not when he didn't dare set foot in Hawkins, not ever again.

Then, over a decade into his second life as a struggling guitarist by night, record shop employee by day, his cousin Brooke had landed on his doorstep, looking too tired and too young all at once, a bruise around her eye. Behind her, her eleven year old son was studying the apartment hall's tiling.

"I left him." Eddie didn't need an explanation for that one. Her good-for-nothing husband, Nash. "Jake won't be any trouble, he just...needs a place to stay, while I get back on my feet. Somewhere his daddy can't find him. Just for a little while."

Eddie thought of his Mama. And then he called Wayne.

"Shit, Uncle Wayne, I--don't know what to do."

"Come on home now, boy," Wayne said, easy as anything, like Eddie had left only yesterday. "Come on back home."

So Eddie had.

That had been six months ago. And now he was standing in the aforementioned middle school parking lot with Steve 'the Hair' Harrington, while their kids--and wasn't that just a fucking head trip and a half--danced the night away.

"I keep half expecting Click to round the corner screaming my name," Eddie admits as he gives Steve a light. "Remember junior year, I sold to you in the alley behind the gym? Old bat nearly got me that time."

"Remember? I literally had to shove that joint down the front of my shorts, dude," Steve admits, which draws a snort out of Eddie to match his own chuckle. "Most of the guys on the basketball team couldn't move half as fast as you did that day. You practically vanished into the woods before she even made it to the stadium. Totally shoulda gone out for the track team, Eds."

Eddie clutches his chest, as though he's been shot. "Don't speak such blasphemy to me, Harrington."

"Yeah, well, you can quit worrying. Pretty sure she finally retired," Steve tells him, taking a long drag before he's passing the cigarette back to Eddie, even that brief touch enough to send sparks of electricity up Eddie's arm. Then he shoots Eddie that charming, infamous Harrington smile, boyish and cocky, the one that says he's used to getting exactly what he wants. "Even if she's not, I'm head of the PTA. If Higgins tries anything, I'll just threaten not to bring cupcakes to the next bake sale."

"Harrington, my hero," Eddie fakes a swoon, collapsing for a brief second against Steve's shoulder, an excuse to get close.

The theatrics get no rise out of Steve beyond an amused smirk. Even after all these years, he's still used to Eddie's antics, it seems.

"You know, it was total déjà vu," he nods to the middle school gymnasium, all decked out in blue and white, "dropping Sam off here."

Though he's actually gotten to know the Harrington offspring in person since he's been back, Eddie had received the rundown from Dustin and the others on Steve's journey to dadhood in their scattered calls over the years.

The December after Eddie had left, Steve had met a girl, taken her out on a few dates, and accidentally gotten her pregnant.

With Samantha, a name Dustin had proudly persuaded Steve into as the little girl's godfather. Every bit as adorable, now that Eddie had seen her, as the gushing picture the party had painted for him, all big blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair just like her father's.

Steve had gotten down on one knee long before she was born, determined to tie the knot and do right by her mother nearly as soon as he'd heard the news.

The pair had been divorced not even two years later.

"I don't think they were ever really in love," Dustin had informed Eddie one sunny afternoon impromptu of nothing, as always blunt in his honesty. "But you know what Steve is like. He's a hopeless romantic."

Eddie didn't, not exactly. But he's gotten enough glimpses, both back in '86 and much more recently, that he's starting to put the picture together.

Steve draws Eddie out of that particular reverie with another bright laugh. And then he's recounting the memory of Dustin's hair, done up in the infamous Harrington 'do, as Steve pulled up in front of the '84 Snow Ball playing chaperone in his trusty Beemer, long since traded in for the much more affordable sedan he's driving now.

"I demand photographic evidence, Harrington," Eddie insists, smile crooked, that distracting dimple appearing in his right cheek, "you can't conjure up an image like that and then not fork over the goods."

"Hey, man, talk to Dustin. Mrs. Henderson took like...a million pictures that night," Steve laughs.

But he's already mentally going through the album tucked away on a bookcase back at home, positive he's got his own photo to show for it. It'll make for a nice excuse to invite Eddie over for dinner one night.

The subject turns then to their own checkered experiences with school dances.

"Class of '85, baby! That's when they made your 'King Steve' title official," Eddie crows, teasing as he taps Steve once on the nose.

Steve goes a bit cross-eyed, following the movement of his finger.

"Yeah, well, talk about a total let-down of a night. I didn't even bring a date," Steve admits, tone blasé. The truth is, his entire senior year had been something of a disappointed trudge towards graduation, a walk he had taken mostly alone. There had been bright spots--the little band of miscreants he'd fallen into babysitting, for one--but they had all been far outside the walls of Hawkins High. "I'm guessing you weren't around for that? Not really your scene, especially with the Munson Doctrine's strict rules about 'forced conforming.'"

He puts Eddie's words in deliberate air quotes, his turn to give him a teasing smile.

"You're wrong about that one, big boy. I saw them, adorning your glorious locks with the crown." That mischievous smile is back. "We're not that old, dude, don't tell me you already forgot the whole 'prom streaking' incident?"

Eddie shoots him a loaded, deliberate look.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute." Shaking his head with a laugh, Steve waves his arms in front of him, like he's calling a time out. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me. That was you?"

"The one and only. What can I say, Jeff and Gareth dared me. Besides, by that point," Eddie shrugs casually, "I already knew I didn't have a shot at graduating anyway, so. Thought I'd close out the year with a bang."

"You've seriously never considered doing anything halfway in your life, have you, Munson?" Steve asks, giving Eddie's shoulder an almost exasperated nudge, smile fond in spite of himself.

"Absolutely not, Stevie boy. Life's too short. Where's the fun in playing it safe?"

Eddie swings into Steve's space, then, dark eyes sparkling. Goading and flirtatious. Just like when they were teenagers, thrown together in the worst of circumstances but making the best of it, before time and pain and trauma put all that distance between them.

And if Steve's eyes drop down to Eddie's lips as they share air, slow enough it can't be anything but deliberate, and their fingers brush just a tad too intimately the next time they trade the cigarette back and forth...well. They've got a lot of lost time--and shared smokes in school parking lots--to make up for.

#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my stuff #my things #i watched the end of season 2 for the umpteenth time this evening #remembered i always wanted a steddie scene parallel to the jopper smoking scene outside the snow ball #and then wrote this in a fevered haze over the past two hours #so apologies for any mistakes and messiness

396 notes · View notes

honey-crypt · 5 months ago

Note

okay, Elliott x farmer where that man goes with Leah to the band concert w/ sam and the rest and is SOO so surprised to see his partner there, on the STAGE. He would fall even more in love if he heard his partner sing too...

Aftermath of the concert?? he definitely is all over them after that LMAO

(Sam's 8 heart event but we make it about Elliott)

a/n: a new addition to the ongoing @fuerrziah / @honey-crypt elliott-verse haha it takes place about a month after the drunk singing elliott fic :3 enjoy! (btw the song featured is something i wrote a year or so ago)

word count: 2k

warning: horny elliott & general nsfw so minors dni (i also traumatize leah)

summary: goblin destroyer is debuting tonight and elliott can’t find you anywhere! worried that you’re missing the show, he attempts to get touch with you when he gets a shock of a lifetime, as you enter the stage as the singer.

★ ballad of scylla - elliott x farmer ★

The bus ride to ZuZu City was filled with excited chatter and anxious anticipation, as the Pelican Town attendees eagerly awaited the arrival to Sam and his band’s show. Elliott, on the other hand, was unfocused on the outside world, notebook in hand and chewing absentmindedly on his pen.

“Something wrong, lover boy?” his best friend Leah jested to him. Elliott looked up and promptly removed his slobber-coated pen from his mouth, “Oh, apologies. I was lost in thought.”

Leah let out a low hum and questioned the writer, “I don’t see (Y/N) here. Did they get caught up in farm work and miss the bus?”

Elliott frowned and resumed chewing on his pen, “Unfortunately, I believe that to be the case,” he answered, words muffled by the pen, “Sam and the others don’t seem too upset by it, at least. Perhaps, they’ll be joining us at a later time.”

“I hope so,” the artist leaned her head against the window. Outside, the countryside slowly morphed into the urban scene with trees and flowers replaced by bright lights and glamourous storefronts. Elliott took the pen out of his mouth and scribbled down a few words in his notebook.

Pelican. Does anything rhyme with pelican? he tapped the pen against his knuckles, No… nothing rhymes with pelican- Oh! Farm! Farm rhymes with charm! the writer quickly jotted those rhymes down. His first month anniversary with Pelican Town’s dearest farmer was approaching and like the romantic creative he was, Elliott was hellbent on writing (Y/N) a poem as their anniversary gift.

“Elliott… oh, Earth to Elliott…” a finger snap coaxed him out of his writing focus, “We’re here,” informed Leah, ruffling up Elliott’s well maintained side-part. He let out a huff of annoyance and fixed up his hair, “Why must you ruin my hair, Leah? You know it takes me at least an hour to get it this nice.”

“‘Cuz I find it funny how anal you get about it,” his friend snickered. Elliott rolled his eyes, his friendship with Leah often overlapped with that of a sibling dynamic with the both of two teasing one another. Nonetheless, Leah was right, they did arrive at the outside concert hall in ZuZu City. Elliott hastily collected his belongings and exited the bus with Leah, making sure to thank Pam for driving everyone here.

For an outdoor concert hall, the space was surprisingly packed, as various attendees milled about the greenery and awaited for the show to start. Elliott attempted to use his height to his advantage, scouting the area for any sign of his beloved farmer. Yoba, no luck. Elliott frowned to himself, as he and Leah searched for a good spot to watch the show, Where are you, (Y/N)? I hope you’re alright.

Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail took to the stage, the three band members working with the event crew to set up their instruments and sound equipment. Elliott admired their tenacity; To perform your hard creative work in front of a crowd was always an artist’s greatest challenge. He periodically got updates from you and Sam about the band’s progress, mainly you because he didn’t spend as much time with Sam as he did with you.

“Hello!” the whining of electronic feedback and interference echoed throughout the concert hall, “Oh, jeez,” Sam tapped the microphone a few times, “Can everybody hear me?”

Many onlookers in the crowd shouted affirmations and Sam grinned, “Awesome! Well, hey everybody, welcome to the show! My name’s Sam and I’m playing guitar tonight,” he pointed to each of his band members, “We got Sebastian on keys and Abigail on drums. Together, we make… Goblin Destroyer!” a few people cheered at the name, “Tonight, we’ll be performing our debut song Ballad of Scylla, but before we do that, I just wanna shout out the person who gave me the push to actually put forth action and effort into making this reality.”

Elliott sensed approaching footsteps next to him, as a familiar figure walked upstage with Sam, “My friend (Y/N)!” you embraced Sam in a side hug, your body on full display under the stage lights. The writer gawked at your outfit; your black skull crop top left your stomach exposed and arms muscles highlighted, paired together with black bell bottom jeans hugging your hips and your worn out combat boots giving you an extra inch or so of height. Oh no, they’re HOT, so so so hot… he thought to himself, his thoughts and language rather crude.

Sam passed the microphone to you and got in position with the rest of Goblin Destroyer. You attached the microphone back on the stand and looked before the crowd, your eyes landing on Elliott and giving him a wink.

His heart fluttered with anticipation, excitement, and a dash of lust. He focused his attention on your lips, hearing a familiar ‘One! Two! Three!’ followed by a collection of loud layered beats and chords. You launched into song, grasping the microphone stand and belting out the most beautiful singing Elliott ever bore witness to.

“Waves crashing against the shore,” you sang, “The warring ships echo a roar! Through the eye of the storm, I emerge and with a battle cry, the ships submerge!” Leah pumped her fist in the air and cheered alongside the crowd of adoring fans.

“The turbulent sea drowns the crew! Lungs filled with salt water, faces just as blue!” you stared down at Elliott, eyes glowing like the mythological beast in question, “I am Scylla, devourer of treacherous sinners! Their flesh and blood, my dinner!”

Sam launched into a riff, fingers wildly strumming the various strings of his guitar, as Sebastian practically slammed his fists against the keyboard and Abigail smashed the drums. You plucked the microphone off its stand and jumped into the crowd, fans losing their marbles and reaching out to you. Yet, you paid no attention to them, as you snaked your way towards a flabbergasted Elliott.

“A storm in a bottle, a storm in a bottle! Glass threatening to break!” you grabbed him by the tie and yacked him towards you, so close that Elliott could feel your breath against his skin, “Unleash the storm, unleash the storm!”

You released your physical hold on him and climbed back on stage, but you couldn’t get rid of the mental hold you possessed over the poor, helpless man. Elliott could only stare, speechless; the music bumping in his eyes, the people around him dancing wildly, you…. oh, you. You, his beloved. You, his soul. You, his heart. You… Elliott was head over heels in love with you.

“Whirlpools of suffering engulf my being! Consuming my body must felt so freeing! Poseidon takes no mercy on my pain, for the men of sea I have slain!” Elliott hung onto every word that came out your mouth, as memories of the night you two got together flashed before his eyes.

“I was once a creature of beauty and grace! Yet, jealousy led to my home to be lace!” The moans, feeling your hot skin against his own. “The poison bleached my skin and took my eyes! Writhing tendrils of my body let out cries!” Savoring your lips, the aftertaste of alcohol mixed in your spit.

“A storm in a bottle, a storm in a bottle!” Calloused hands digging into your soft waist. “Glass threatening to break!” The delightful whimpers and pleas that your lips recited like a prayer. “Free the storm, free the storm!”

“They call me a monster for who I am!” The way you vacuumed your mouth around his cock, slurping and sucking as if it was a lollipop. “When in reality, I am just a sacrificial lamb!” His canine teeth piercing into your neck and painting it in bruises. “A creature in need of a guiding hand!” The feeling of being inside you, tight and wet with spit and lube. “Against Heracles’ sword, I take my stand!” Elliott! Elliott! Oh, how his name oozed with desperation and need.

“Punished by my creator for my love!” Thrusting into you. “To the pits of Tartarus, I am given a big shove!” Groping at your chest with one hand. “My skin burns like the poison I drank once before!” You sucking and nibbling on the fingers of his unoccupied hand. “The gods of old call for an encore!”

“A storm in a bottle, a storm in a bottle!” Your hole clamping down on his cock. “Glass threatening to break!” Pinning you down with his body weight, his thrusts frantic and sloppy. “Save the storm, save the storm!” Crying out your name, as he coated your hole with sticky seed.

The final guitar riff snapped Elliott back into the real world, as the crowd hollered and applauded at the band for their performance. You remained on stage, sweat running down your forehead and your chest heaving from the workout. Elliott whistled and clapped as loud as he could, “(Y/N)! That’s my (Y/N)!”

The crowd began to disperse while the band and the event crew started packing up the equipment. You sat down on the stage with legs dangling off the side, chugging a water bottle like your life depended on it. Elliott broke away from the crowd and approached the stage, resting his chin on your thigh, “My love,” he greeted you. A smile graced your lips, “Elliott! Did you have fun?”

“Absolutely,” his emerald irises were consumed by his black pupils, “It was a pleasant surprise to see you sing tonight. I was afraid that you missed the event because you weren’t on the bus.”

“I had to take my truck,” you answered, “but, but you know how I felt when you drunkenly serenaded me last month,” you added on before finishing your water. Elliott traced an assortment of shapes against your leg, “I don’t think you realize how much of an impact your little stunt had on me.”

You pulled the bottle from your mouth and wiped off some spilled liquid with the back of your hand, “Oh? What do you mean by that?” your eyes twinkled with playful mischief. Elliott squeezed your other thigh and pressed a few kisses against the thigh he was resting on.

“Allow me to show you.”

…

bonus:

Leah waited outside the bus, foot tapping against the concrete impatiently. She checked her watch and grumbled to herself, “Where is he?”

“Hey kid, party’s leaving!” hollered Pam from the bus. Leah let out a sigh and replied, “Just give me one second!” before jogging back to the concert hall. She scanned the area for any sign of Elliott and passed by one of the concert hall’s event crew, “Excuse me!” she asked, “Have you seen a redheaded man in a puffy, stuffy outfit nearby?”

“Oh yeah,” the crew member answered while she tided up the stage, “He went towards the parking lot.”

“Thanks!” the artist waved the crew member off and headed off to the concert hall’s parking lot. Leah walked down the rows of cars, looking which one Elliott could be near, when she suddenly heard a moan. She stopped in her tracks and waited, hearing another moan a few seconds later.

Curious, Leah tracked the source of the odd noises and found (Y/N)’s truck close by, “(Y/N)? Ell-” she cut herself short and covered her mouth to hold back a scream at the sight before her: Elliott with his pants down and (Y/N) pinned against the side of their truck. Trying not to get caught, Leah sprinted away and returned to the bus. She took the seat behind Pam and the bus driver kicked the vehicle in high gear, driving away from ZuZu City.

“Kid, you okay?” the bus driver asked.

“I need bleach, eye bleach, right now.”

#honey crypt fics #stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv elliott #stardew valley elliott #stardew elliott #sdv elliott x farmer #sdv elliott x reader #stardew valley elliott x reader #stardew valley elliott x farmer #stardew elliott x reader #stardew elliott x farmer #sdv elliott smut #stardew elliott smut #stardew valley elliott smut

85 notes · View notes

gyupinkys · 2 years ago

Text

scream

Content warning: MENTION OF MURDERS, smut, slight angst, knives, breaking and entering, unprotected sex, blood, spit, double penetration, fingering, cum play, degradation (slut, whore, etc), choking, spanking, oral (m&f receiving), SLIGHT DUBIOUS CONSENT BUT CONSENT IS ASKED, lmk if i missed anything else.

afab reader x jeonghan x joshua

WORD COUNT: 5.1K

NOT EDITED

a/n: This is my first fic so please lmk if you enjoy it :)

“Jeonghan stop lying”

“I’m not lying y/n I really saw the killer eating a apple in dino’s kitchen”

“OUT OF EVERYONE WHY WAS HE SUDDENLY IN MY KITCHEN? Jeonghan stop trying to scare y/n”

“Are you sure you're not the one that's scared Dino? Worried the sick little killer will creep up on you flexing in the mirror” Joshua exclaims with a smirk, making the group burst into laughter. Dino rolls his eyes with a pout on his face knowing it makes no sense to defend himself.

“How did you even see him in dino’s kitchen? Without dino knowing you were in his house to begin with? And why did you not say anything until now? Mingyu asked. Mingyu has been sick of jeonghan’s shit for ages now and him joking about this ghost face killer terrorizing your town seems insensitive. Across the past two months a ghost faced killer has been breaking into people’s houses with no rhyme or reason. The police are stumped and the only advice they can give to the citizens is to lock your doors and stay safe. Mingyu thinks that's shit because if he was trying to murder someone the last thing that would stop him are some flimsy locks, he’s picked enough locks in his lifetime to know.

“Ok how about we just stop talking about this? I don’t want Seokmin to start crying before the night ends” Jeonghan said with a sigh. You looked at him in confusion, jeonghan is never one to drop a conversation, especially when he can poke fun at someone. You figured he must've realized everyone was freaked out and continued your conversation with Cheol, missing the glare Joshua sent Jeonghan's way.

“Y/n make sure you stay safe ok? I know when you have your headphones on the whole world disappears, but promise me you’ll be aware of your surroundings, ok?”

“Yes cheol” you say with an eye roll. Cheol is always treating you like a child but you know he has only good intentions.

“Here, take this. You should start eating better. All those chipotle bowls aren’t doing you or your bank account any justice” Cheol hands you a bright red apple he seemed to suddenly pull from thin air. You look at him in confusion “Since when do you eat apples?” “I’ve had a change of heart after visiting the farmers market a few days ago, you can't beat those prices. I got a whole container of cherries for $4!!” He says with wide eyes, you stare at him with a blank face hoping he won't continue this conversation for any longer than necessary.

He takes the hint and announces to the group “Let's end the night here, Josh can you give y/n a ride?”

“Of course, I would hate for our dear y/n to encounter this scary killer” joshua says

“For the love of god drop this gentleman act Joshua no one buys it” you say with an eye roll.

With that everyone says their goodbyes and begins to head home. When you leave the restaurant Joshua is leaning against his car. You take a moment to appreciate him. As much as he gets on your nerves, he is admittedly one of the most handsome men you’ve ever seen. His dark hair falls perfectly across his forehead and his skin is so clear you feel nothing but raging jealousy towards him. Oh what you would give for eyelashes like his. Stupid men and their stupid eyelashes and stupid slutty waist and stupid pretty faces and-

“Y/n? Can you continue to stare in the car? We should get going”

You're not even embarrassed to be caught, you’ve been friends for so long he already knows you’re attracted to him. You’ve always been especially close with Joshua and Jeonghan, something about them settles your spirit in a way the other boys can't. The group likes to call them evil twins, they look very similar and work a little too well together… You really hope you will remain friends forever, maybe even more than friends but you try not to feed into your delusions.

As expected Joshua opens your door for you “Can’t have a pretty girl like you do any work. I’ll take care of you all night, don't worry that pretty head” he says in a low voice leaning his hand on the door.

“Just get in the car joshua”

As he drives you look around your neighborhood and see the police cars on every street and people with their windows boarded up.

“Joshua, are you not a little worried?”

“About what”

“Joshua be fo real, you know what I’m talking about”

He sighs and looks over at you when he stops at a red light.

“Y/n I don't know, I think people are being dramatic. Why would someone randomly kill people with no motive? Obviously the police are missing something. No ones coming after you I promise.”

“What about you”

He smirks at you, “Don’t worry about me pretty girl”

You give him an incredulous look. How could he be so calm?

He seems to pick up on your shift in energy, “If anything I’ll sacrifice mingyu so I can escape. I'm sure he cant fight off the killer”

This makes you chuckle. You look out the window and hope you and all your friends are safe.

As you tuck yourself into bed you get a text from Wonwoo:

GaM3 B01: R u home?

Y/N: yea

GaM3 B01: Make sure u lock ur door. Goodnight y/n

Y/N: gn

This is weird. Wonwoo rarely texts you. Why is he suddenly worried if you locked your doors? You triple check your locks and get back in bed.

Sleep can’t come to you. You put on your headphones and decide to listen to some white noise. As you settle back into bed you thank yourself for investing in these noise canceling headphones. Vernon insisted these were the best and he wasn't lying. A few minutes later you begin to drift, missing the rattle of your door knob and the small clicking noises as your lock is picked. You miss the creek of your bedroom door open and you miss the light chuckle of the intruder watching you sleep.

The next morning you wake up feeling a cool breeze. You sit up and see your bedroom door is wide open. You don’t remember leaving your door open, maybe in your sleepy haze you forgot to close it.

It’s a saturday so you get the day to recover from your hangover. You should've listened to Mingyu and stopped after your third shot but Dino always manages to get you to play drinking games with him. Last night Jeonghna had to get down on his knees and beg Dino to get in a taxi. It was not a cute sight.

You turn on the news to see there was yet another murder last night. It was a few blocks from your apartment. It seemed to happen only a few hours after Joshua dropped you off last night. You call him to make sure he got home safe.

“Hello” he says with that raspy morning voice. You can’t even lie it went straight to your core. Curse him and his voice.

“Shua did you see there was another murder only a few blocks from me?”

“Oh?”

“Did you see anything last night?”

“Nah I didn’t”

“Well where did you go after you dropped me off?”

“I went to jeonghan's place”

“Why did you not go straight home? Shua you may think you're safe but we don’t know who the killer is targeting. If something happens to you I won’t recover.” you say with a sigh.

“And what if I did know who the killer was targeting?”

“What?”

“I said, what if i knew who the killer was targeting”

“I heard you the first time, idiot. How would you know?” you said in confusion.

“Y/N Do you think I’m the killer?”

“Why would you even say that? Shua, this isn’t a joking matter! I’m genuinely scared and youre making stupid fucking jokes.”

“Did I spook you y/n?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Fuck off joshua” and with that you hang up. He’s so annoying when he acts like this.

You decide to do some research into the murders. Joshua told you last night there must be some connection to all the victims. Hours go by as you compile more and more evidence and you realize all the victims are people around your age, and spouses of people you went to highschool with.

“What the fuck” you say to yourself. The killer clearly must be someone you know. Someone you went to highschool with. This can't be one giant coincidence.

As you connect more pieces you realize you're too scared to stay here alone. Every noise is making you jump and you can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching you. You figure you should share this info with someone before you go to the police station and make a fool out of yourself. You're still pissed at Joshua so you call the next best person, Jeonghan.

As you explain yourself to him, he’s oddly quiet.

“Y/n, why don’t I stay with you tonight and we can head to the police station tomorrow?”

You agree and he says he’ll be there in 15. From the moment he arrives you feel like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. It's around midnight when he realizes he left his talisman at home. He claims there are these lesbian ghosts haunting him and if he doesn’t have his talisman at all times they’ll try to kill him. You find him ridiculous but he assures you he’ll be back soon and if anything happens to call him. It’s been 20 minutes and he’s still not back. You mindlessly scroll through netflix deciding if its in your best interest to rewatch the entire hunger games series. As you are about to embark on your journey you get a phone call from an unknown number. You answer:

“Hello?”

“Hi my love” a distorted deep voice says.

“Who is this?”

“My love, do you like scary movies?”

“Fuck off and don’t call me again”

You hang up. Talk about a mood killer. You take this as a sign to get ready for bed instead.

As you're washing your face you hear your door knob rattle. Your heart stops as you struggle to breathe. If it was jeonghan he would have texted you to buzz him in downstairs. There’s no way this is jeonghan. You turn off your bathroom light and lay down in your bathtub. Your breathing picks up as you plead with yourself to not have a panic attack. You hear your front door open and heavy footsteps fill your apartment. You call jeonghan but he’s not answering. Of course this is the one time he’s not on his phone. You call the second person on your recents. Joshua. You know if you attempted to call 911 you would fuck uo with how much your fringers are shaking. You suddenly hear ringing flow through your apartment. Tears well in your eyes. Why is Joshua in your apartment? Why did he just break into your apartment? Your breathing picks up even more as tears freely flow. You hear him pick up.

“Y/n, I know you're in here”

You hang up and shut your eyes. You pray this is all a joke he and jeonghan are trying to pull on you.

“You know y/n, you really are too curious for your own good. I always tell you to not worry that pretty head of yours on things like this”

You can hear him getting closer and you feel like your heart is about to bat out of your chest.

“I never would want to hurt you, pretty girl. I just need to make sure you keep your mouth shut.”

What? How would he know about what you found unless jeonghan told him? And when would he have done that?

You hear your front door open again. Maybe he left you think.

“Y/n?” you hear jeonghan call out.

Oh god why did he have to come now? Joshua’s probably going to kill him. You decide if he’s gonna kill you, you might as well make it as hard as possible because there's no way in hell you're taking Joshua Hong on in a fight. You make your way out of your bathroom trying to look brave but the tears still flowing through your eyes betray you.

You make it your living room and everything is dark. There’s no sign of jeonghan or joshua. Maybe they left? You feel arms wrap around you from behind and feel someone breathing in your ear. The intruder covers your mouth as soon as you open it to scream.

“Shhh pretty girl don’t make me do something I'll regret” you hear Joshua's smooth voice whisper in your ear. Here comes the tears again.

“Joshua go easy on her look how scared she is” you hear jeonghan say from somewhere behind you. You're so confused right now and the snot in your nose is running into Joshua's hand and you can guarantee he’s about to start complaining.

“My pretty girl, why couldn't you just trust me when I said you're safe?” he sighs.

“Now you're in real danger, my love” Jeonghan says suddenly in front of you.

You gasp. My love? Was he the one who called you on the phone? You start whining and thrashing which only makes Joshua tighten his hold on you.

“My love, can't you see what we're doing? You almost figured it out, use that pretty little head and put the rest of the pieces together.” Jeonghan says.

You're in no state to actually use your brain which Joshua picks up on. “Why don’t you just tell her han, I think we’ve played with her enough for now”

“But I'm only getting started,” Jeonghan says with a pout.

Joshua sighs, “Y/N were only avenging you. Do you not remember? All those people in highschool who made fun of you for no reason? They couldn't see your beauty the way we could? Having to watch you suffer all those years and beg us not to intervene killed us. Now it's our turn to watch them have to look on as their one true love suffers”

You're stunned. Jeonghan moves to turn on your lights and that pretty face you're so familiar with returns, but suddenly not as beautiful. There’s something different about his eyes when he looks at you. He’s looking at you like you're his most prized possession but also like you're his prey. You shiver in Joshua's hold. The latter pulls out a knife and begins to draw shapes on your skin. You curse your fucked up brain for the warmth begining to spread to your core. Joshua has you pressed so firmly against him you can feel all his muscles, you can also feel his throbbing cock against against your ass. Is this turning him on? What the fuck is happening?

Jeonghan speaks again, “My, love we did this for you. I planned everything so well, even the police couldn't track us. And Joshua carried out my plans perfectly. You know we work very well together” The smirk on his face was both pissing you off and turning you on. God, what is happening to you?

The deepest, most carnal part of you is sickly impressed by this. They have such devotion for you that they're willing to risk their lives and kill for you? To be completely honest you forgot about those bullies after highschool, but they clearly didn't. What else would they do for you if you asked?

You don’t even realize you're pressing your legs together until Joshua speaks up.

“My pretty girl, are you enjoying this?” he removes his hand from your mouth and you immediately deny his claim.

“So why are you pressing those slutty legs together when you know you just want to open them for us?” Jeonghan asks with a smirk.

You remain silent as Joshua moves the knife to your shorts. He whispers

“So if i touch in between your legs you won’t be wet?”

“No” you say, lying to yourself and him.

Jeonghan grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. “My love, if you lie to us we are going to have to punish you.”

You stay silent and look away. Joshua slides the knife in between your legs and presses against your panties. When he pulls it back there's a slick sheen on the metal giving you away. Joshua tisk and sighs. “What are we going to do with you?”

Joshua finally lets you go and pushes you into jeonghan, who begins to lead you to your bedroom. You try to resist but Joshua is right behind, he smacks your ass hard which immediately makes you stop. You can’t see his smirk and you walk into your room.

Jeonghan pushes you onto your bed and he and Joshua tower over you. They share a look and pounce. Jeonghan manhandles you so you're sitting leaning your back on him while he’s leaning on your headboard. He pulls your arms behind your back and spreads your legs open with his own. Joshua slides in between your legs and looks down at you. He drags his nose down your neck and breathes in your scent. You gulp.

“My pretty girl, you don’t know how long I've wanted to do this.”

He puts his hands on your thighs and looks into your eyes.

“Are you ok with this?”

You don't hesitate to say yes. He immediately dives in and kisses you. His lips are as soft as you always imagined. His scent overwhelms you in the best way possible. You feel his tongue swipe against your bottom lip and you bite it. You won’t make this easy for him. He silently laughs to himself as jeonghan’s hand flies to your neck and presses hard. You begin to feel that delicious pressure go to your head. Jeonghan tilts your head up with his grip on your neck and Joshua looks you dead in the eye.

“Behave.” is all he says before he pulls out his knife.

“I’m not scared to use this” he says as he glides it against your exposed thighs. To prove his point he presses the blade into your skin, the crimson blood flowing. He looks you in the eye as he takes a long lick. He quickly pulls up and kisses you. You can taste the metallic twinge on his tongue but it doesn’t deter you. You kiss him back fiercely until he pulls back for a breath.

“Open your mouth” jeonghan says from behind you, tightening his grip on your throat. You obey. Joshua spits into your mouth and you swallow opening your mouth to show him.

“My pretty, perfect girl,” he says, flashing that beautiful smile.

He uses his blade to cut your shorts and top off leaving you in just your panties. He smirks at the damp spot on your panties. He gives you a questioning look and you nod your head letting him know you're ok. Jeonghan rubs your hip with his free hand and Joshua cuts off your panties. He immediately runs two fingers through your folds and pulls his hand back to show jeonghan how wet you are. They both groan at the same time, jeonghans coming out as more of a whimper.

“Josh, don't forget we still need to punish her” Jeonghan calls out from behind you. You can feel his hard dick throbbing behind you. You groan.

“Put two fingers into her for me” jeonghan says and he plants his thumb on your clit while Joshua eases his ring and middle finger into you. You let out a gasp as Joshua immediately starts thrusting into you searching for your g-spot. Jeonghan lets go of your neck and turns your face to kiss you. His lips are somehow even softer than Joshua’s and you attempt to free your arms so you can touch him. He breaks from the kiss and tightens his hold.

“My love, how's this for your punishment? If you make any noises or move we won’t let you cum”

Your eyes widen and your mouth falls agape. Joshua chuckles at this and increases his speed while jeonghan presses harder on your clit making it harder for you to control yourself. You resist the urge to buck your hips but when Joshua presses into that spongy spot inside you, you let out a pornagraphic moan that has the both of them stopping their movements.

“My pretty girl, are you too stupid to follow simple instructions? Or are you just a pain slut who doesn't want to cum tonight?” Joshua says and he removes his fingers from you.

You begin to sputter an apology but Jeonghan is having none of it. He slaps your clit to silence you.

“What will it take to shut you up? Do we have to fuck you dumb for you to learn how to close that slutty mouth?” jeonghan says as he pushes you off of him and climbs out from behind you. As if on the same brain wave jeonghan pulls you to the end of the bed while Joshua removes his shirt. You look over to him to see his muscles flex as he removes his pants and you can clearly see the outline of him in his boxers. His cock is big and hard and you can feel your mouth watering as you look at him with a pout.

“You want me to fuck you?” he ask with a smirk. You nod your head yes as you feel Jeonghan's hot breath on your core.

“Or do you want me to fuck you?”

You look between them baffled. How do you pick between two of the most handsome and well endowed men you've ever seen in your entire life? At this point you rathered Joshua to kill you so you won’t have to make this choice. After a moment you reply with “both?”

They exchange a look. “Jeonghan grabs your face and looks t you for a second.

“My love, I never took you as a greedy fucking whore. Do you think you could handle both of us?”

“Yes” you immediately say. They exchange a look and jeonghan shrugs.

“Whatever you desire my love”

Jeonghan slides back down the bed and dives into your core. Licking and slurping whatever he can. He sucks harshly on your clit begining to rebuild your lost orgasm. He slides three fingers into you and immediately hits the spot Joshua previously found. Meanwhile joshua takes off his boxers and pumps his cock in his hands. You can see the precum gathering at his tip and you're dying for a taste.

“Open up” he says as he taps the head on your lips. You obey and he slides the head in.

“I won’t go easy on you, this is still a punishment beautiful”. You nod and he begins to thrust, gradually increasing his pace. He begins to fuck yout throat like your nothing but a toy, the lewd sound almost drowning out jeonghans moans as he feasts on you

“You know,jeonghan wanted me to hurt you. Teach you a lesson, but you know I have a soft spot for you. I could never live with myself if I hurt you in ways you didn't like.” You shudder and he takes this as an opportunity to thrust further down your throat until his pelvis is touching your nose. He sits there for a few seconds as you gag and struggle to breath around him. He pulls out with a moan and barely gives you time to catch your breath when he’s thrusting back in somehow deeper. Meanwhile jeonghan has you tethering on the brink of release, toying with you. He’s giving you almost the amount of pressure you need to cum but not enough. He pulls back and pulls his fingers out, sucking your essence off of them. You whine against Joshua’s dick and buck your hips begging for a release. Jeonghan tells you “ you’ll cum when I say you can, joshua come here and prep her ass if she wants both of us to fuck her its happening at the same time.” Your eyes widen as Joshua pulls out of your mouth and jeonghan grabs handcuffs from his coat pocket. He locks your wrist together and rests them on your stomach as Joshua digs through your bedside drawer for lube. Once he finds it he begins to kiss you as he slowly presses one finger into you. Jeonghan begins to undress and pulls Joshua off your mouth by his hair. He taps his cock against your face and you immediately begin to please him. By the time Joshua works three fingers into you jeonghan decides it’s time to fuck you. He tells Joshua to sit against the headboard and for you to sit on his cock. You shuffle up the bed and face jeonghan. You raise your hips and sink down onto Joshua holding eye contact with Jeonghan the whole time.

You feel like a virgin again with the way Joshua stretches you, he rubs your hips and whispers about how good you feel in your ear. When you're fully seated he lets out the sweetest whimper that has you tightening on him. You begin to bounce on him savoring how he fills you so perfectly, its better than you ever imagined. He grips your hips so tightly you're sure youll have bruises in the morning but the thought makes you want him to hurt you even more. Leave his mark on you. You look at jeonghan with puppy dog eyes, pleading for him to touch you. He tells joshua to stop fucking you which he does begrudgingly does with a groan. Jeonghan pulls you off joshua and sits you back on him, only this time Joshua is fucking ur ass while holding your legs spread for jeonghan. Jeonghan slides into you and he swears he became comatose for a second. Your heat grips him so tightly and your warmth manages to spread through his whole body it has his toes curling. He gives an experimental thrust which has you tensing. You’ve never felt so full before you feel like you're floating. Unsure of what's real and whats not. You faintly hear jeonghan ask if your ok and you nod, needing to cum and feel their cum more than you needed air. They began a steady rhythm, one thrusting in while the other pulls out. It felt heavenly, you didnt think you would be able to have sex again without imagining it was them fucking you. You felt your orgasm quickly brewing and you knew you weren't going to last.

“Jeonghan please let me cum, o-oh god i feel so full, it feels so good Shua, oh my god please please, please” you blabber. Jeonghan smiles and looks at joshua. He shakes his head voting that you should be able to cum, Jeonghan relents and tells you to cum. You let go and you feel like your soul left your body, your toes curl and you squeeze your eyes shut moaning and whimpering like a slut while they fuck you through it. You begin to feel weak but neither let up and continue pounding into you like youre their personal fuck toy. The oversensitivity takes over but all that's on jeonghan's mind is getting you to cum like that again. He begins to run your clit which has you arching your back into joshua, changing the angle for him and instantly making his cum with a whimper. He doesn't stop thrusting until he physically has nothing left in him. He pulls out and watches his cum drip onto his thighs. Jeonghan pulls you off joshua and lays you on your back, pushing joshua’s cum into your pussy and fucking it into you. You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a kiss while joshua sneaks his hand in between you and plays with your clit. Your second orgasm is near and you know it will be the most powerful you’ve ever had. Tears begin to freely flow from your eyes and jeonghan looks into your eyes.

“Cum for me my love, I want to see you fall apart on my cock” and like a trained slut you cum on command milking jeonghan in the process. He keeps thrusting until he’s too sensitive and collapses onto you.

“Jeonghan you're too heavy” you whine and he chuckles. He carefully pulls out and rolls off of you.

“Nooo now its gonna leak on my sheets” you complain, ignoring the fact that your sheets are already covered in both you and Joshua's cum. Jeonghan smirks and pulls Joshua from his spot on your bed and pushes his face into your core. Without a word Joshua begins cleaning up all of your cum, savoring the taste of the three of you mixed together. Jeonghan pulls him up and Joshua spits the mixture into your mouth. You swallow with a smile,and he collapses back onto the bed.

“So…” you say while staring up at the ceiling.

Joshua turns to look at you. “y/n I hope you can try to understand that everything we do is for you.”

Jeonghan speaks up “My love, I will never let anyone or anything hurt you ever again. If you won’t accept our love that's fine, but we will never stop protecting you.”

You try to take all of this in but it’s too much. Maybe you should just live in this perfect bubble, ignoring the fact that two of your closest friends murder people in your honor. Maybe it's ok to live in your delusion. You settle that this is something to think about another time.

“Wait, Do the other guys know?” you ask.

“No”, jeonghan replies. “We didn't want to get them caught up incase we got caught, though I knew we would never.”

“Wait, so when you said you saw the killer eating an apple inDino’s kitchen you weren’t lying? You say with a smile.

“Do I ever lie, my love?” Jeonghan asks.

“Yes” you and Joshua say in unison.

“Whatever” Jeonghan says with an eye roll.

“So am I dating two psychotic serial killers now?” you ask.

“Psychotic is a bit harsh” Joshua says while holding his hand to his chest.

Yes you are” Jeonghan says as he carries you to the bathroom to properly clean you up.

As you look in the mirror you see Jeonghan’s pretty face looking back at you. You think to yourself “I wouldn’t mind being killed by someone as gorgeous as him” In that moment you realize you're just as psychotic as them, maybe you three do belong together.

#seventeen smut #svt smut #joshua smut #hongjisoo smut #joshua hong smut #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut #svt x reader #svt fanfic

737 notes · View notes

arcade-writing · 8 months ago

Text

Tea party for two

NSFW 🍋

Pairing: Jervis Tetch x AFAB! reader

Warning: ribbon bondage, Oral - man EATS out, drool and spit kink, scent kink, he's a little weirdo, brief sex toy, March Hare! Reader, he's as giddy as he is horny, alot of whimpering, Jervis is very vocal, probably cringe dirty talk - man rhymes and speaks silly, established relationship, boss x henchmen, cheesy petnames, premature ejaculation, messy sex, creampie, mating press, a lot of praise, minor light degrading for hatter, hair pulling, table sex, abit of aftercare, they’re ridiculous your honour

I'm aware a Hare and a rabbit/bunny are very different but I don't give a shit quite frankly!

This is a non specific Hatter, it is implied he's got a gut on him and said he has curly hair but he's not detailed in description where you can't imagine your own version. He is also intended to be shorter than you but ehh again, nothing is overly defined.

Being one of the mad hatters goons wasn’t too bad. Not many people In Gotham can say they get paid to dress up for a criminal and enjoy it. Tea parties were routine at this point, always at the same time and well- you couldn’t even be so sure the clocks even worked accurately in Jervis’s underground lair. They always say to expect the unexpected but this was certainly not expected; currently you were being wheeled into the tea party on a carrier. Your arms tied to the oversized metal tray you were sitting on, your knees forced to your chest as your ankles and thighs were tied together with thick ribbon. The other goons just looked mindless as usual as the hypnotic chip in their head softly beeped. There you saw Jervis sitting in his usual chair, it was tall and wide enough to sit comfortably in. Now, you and the tray were on the table right In front of him. Displayed like a meal ready to be eaten.

“There’s other ways of inviting me to tea..” you finally spoke up, raising a brow, your foot just brushed the hatters chest. Nudging it just beneath his large bowtie.

Jervis made the other goons leave the room with a usher of his hand. Shooing them off as he tutted, having everything he wanted now you were Infront of him – perfectly presented and even tied up with a bow! Oh how marvellous! He laughed with that mischievous yet playful tone that you’ve gotten used to over time. Leaning forward as he cupped one foot with his gloved hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it.

“They say a rabbit foot is very lucky to have, wouldn’t I just be lined up for fortuitous events if I got to have a cheeky nibble on my dearest Hare?”

He pulled back to clap, giddy with his own excitement and anticipation. Giggling as he grinned so uncomfortably large, those buck teeth of his on full display. “Rabbit for dessert! They say they’re best for stews and supper but no no! But I’m sure you’ll just ooze with sweetness!”

You slightly flush, nudging his chest with your foot once again in retaliation knowing full well what this was leading to as your upper back pressed against the large and long table. You weren’t in the proper state of dress but that was because you had your own plans, until those large Tweedle henchmen came barging in. Your knees pressed together from how your tied as you could just about watch him from this position.

“oh? You’re hoping I’ll have some special filling for you to enjoy, hatter?” Your hands flex as your wrists were tied with ribbon to the handles of the large tray.

Oh such temptation in that tone of yours! It was oh so sweet and full of mischief. His grin grew wider as he licked his lips, his face so close to your knees as he hummed. Eyes darting all over you, those greedy eyes soaked up your thin fabric of your knee highs. Already drooling at just the idea, he’s been a fidgeting mess since he made those big goons grab you. And hard too, straining in his trousers already. He adjusted his big top hat to look more presentable, he was the boss after all.

“Hmm… I suppose that depends.. If I were to dig in, would I get to lick my fingers once I’m done and find all the delicious drippings and honey still on them?” He was only growing more jittery as he grew more flustered at the thought. Twitching fingers reaching for the big bow keeping your legs together as he pulled it undone.

“why don’t you try and see? I’m not a mirror, Hatter, you have to seek more than just a glance.” Even with the spontaneous and ridiculousness of it all; wishing Jervis would approach these kind of topics and desires like how most would but that wouldn’t be him. Once your legs were untied you parted them, resting your feet on his shoulders as you made sure to arch your back a little for show. “I’m sure with your attention I’ll be stickier than toffee.”

He let out an audible gasp, cheeks turning red, his eyes practically popping out of his head. A cheeky smirk flashed all over his face with that devious look in his eye. “If you insist, dear Hare.” He didn’t hesitate to move his gloved hands down and grasp your knees, pushing them more to your chest as his hands slid along your thighs. His breath became shallow and his heartbeat quickened, kissing from your ankle up to your knee. Biting at your socks the way up as he let out muffled giggles.

“Oh my! Getting a little dewy already?” He peered down at the underwear you currently had on, seeing a wet patch already formed. Just spotting an outline of something else, growing curious as his fingers danced up your thighs and to the waistband of your underwear.

As he stripped your bottom bare, he was nuzzling into your thighs as he pressed them to his head more. Tucking His face against your clit as he his big nose peeking over as he inhaled with a proud ‘oh ho ho ho!’. He loved that scent of yours; it’s why he always tried to get clothes of yours into his grubby hands. Wanting to smell you whenever he could.

You squeeze around his head, almost knocking off his top hat in the process as the ribbons and feathers decorating it tickled at your legs. Rolling your eyes with a smile at his giggles and noises of pride. Pushing him closer with your legs considering you were still bound at the wrists. “I just want your attention, makes me all warm.” You coo, your legs wanting to tense but each kiss just made your body melt.

“ohhh don’t you worry, my attention is already all yours, dear Hare” He chuckles as he nuzzles you more, your legs squeezing his head making him all squirmy, hips rolling against the plump of his chair. Getting that needed friction. “Warm is definitely the right description. You’re practically a cocoon of warmth with all that blood pumping, I’m sure your heart is just THUMPING!” He adjusted his hat to sit more firmly on his head and let his hands venture, sliding down to your slicken folds and finally found what brought his curiosity.

“And what’s this? Have you been hiding carrots from me?” He teases with a scolding brow, awaiting your answer as he feels the rubbery end of the toy currently stuffing your hole. Its end looks like cartoonish leafs and a stem, looking between you and the toy as he flicks the stem.

“I know how much you like games, I was hoping you’d enjoy playing with me but you ended up beating me to it.” You huff, your toes curling as he brought attention to the carrot toy. Biting on your bottom lip as you almost completely forgot it was there – your feet pushing him by the shoulders to be as close as he could as your hands clenched and unclenched.

“Aha! So you ARE hiding secrets.” He let out a giggle with a grin and a mischievous look in his eye, clapping his hands together in his glee, you really had no idea how much you were teasing him. Before he gave your thigh and smack as punishment. “Naughty! Naughty! Bad rabbit! Such a cheeky little thing!” He tutted and tsked, giving your thigh a few more smacks in quick concessions. “Planning to toy with your poor ol’ Hatter, I can only imagine the maddening game you would have played.”

He hummed to himself as he grabbed the rubber stem of the toy, twisting and pulling at the ends and bouncing it about between his fingers. Giving it a testing tug as he could see it wasn’t an easy fit. You gasped sharply at the slaps and then my breath caught in my throat as he played with the stem, tugging and twisting. Your reaction only just made his breathing more rapid, drool slipping past his trembling lips. His buck teeth caught on his lip as he chewed on it. "ohh I should take your carrot from you! Yes yes! Naughty rabbits like yourself don’t get lovely carrots.”

Squirming as your feet lightly kicked at his shoulder. Your hands grasping at the table cloth as you bit down on my lip tighter to muffle the sound that escaped you. “Then why don’t you take it then? Huh, hatter?” You breath out, eyes fluttering at just the thought as you saw just how excited he was getting – his energy rising and rising was more obvious. He never was one to stay still for long.

“why not indeed?” He asked as he finally stopped teasing the toy and grasped it properly, pulling with a bit more force then he thought he would have to. Pulling out the large carrot – much larger than he expected it to be- as his eyes widened, his jaw dropped slightly as he breathed in with a sharp intake of air. “O-oh my!” Marvelling at your cunt squeezed and fluttered as he pulled it out, listening to the sweet moans pooling out as it dragged along your walls. Your legs trembled as you arched. Delighting in the friction but already feeling that full sensation in your stomach retreat. His boner was pressing hard against his trousers, pre-cum smearing and wetting the fabric through his boxers at just the sight alone.

Once the toy came out with a loud pop he was staring at it with wide sparkling eyes. His cheeks utterly flushed and his heart pounding. “You…you are naughty, my Dear Hare…utterly and entirely naughty..” he breathed out, staring at your body as he can only imagine delightfully in his head the struggle you went through just to stash this carrot away just for him.

Panting, as you could feel how embarrassingly messy your thighs and pussy now were. Leftover lube and slick stringing out and dripping down to your ass. It rattled even you with how wet you were. Watching him through glazed eyes at his surprise as your hips wiggled, trying to pull his attention back into focus.

“Hatter…” You whimper, feeling so empty now. You just needed him to fill you up. You needed his attention.

His eyes are glued to the puffy folds between your legs, mouth agape and still stunned by the size of the toy and of your willingness to use it to such extremes just to get him in a tizzy. But more so, the way you gushed. Oh he has never thought of a day more fitting to be deemed Fractious day more than now. “Oh- dear Hare..” his voice was nothing but soft and breathy. As he swallowed against the sight.

His eyes looked back at the toy in his hand, but at the sound of you whimpering his focus was refocused to your wiggling hips. With haste he grabbed the largest teapot he had and shoved the carrot in it. Practically Jumping into action, Not wasting a beat he began to nuzzle your thighs and kiss around your fluttering cunt. His nose was practically smothered by your soft pussy as he huffed and puffed under his breath. His mouth opened as he began to lick away at the wetness you left behind as he moaned. His gloved hands gripping tightly at your thighs as he let out an approving groan at the mess. At your taste, always so sweet.

Your legs tighten at his head again, your hands thumping against the table as you just wanted to grab him and pull on his thick curly locks of his. He was acting like he was starved and it made your head spin. You loved it. Gasping and whining as you strained in your restraints. “Oh that’s it- my pretty Shortcake..” your breathing is thick in your throat and heavy as it escapes you. Looking down to watch him as you can just see his eyes rolling and twitching.

Your sweet mess on his face was like the perfect desert, the smell and taste driving him into a delirious state. His breath became shallow as he continued, his eyes rolling back as they fluttered. His nostrils flaring in and out as he took in your smell, it made him feel drunk. Your scent was intoxicating. His tongue taking it's time to trace around your sticky hole. Savouring every moment. He continued to suck and lick with no end.

“oh….as juicy as an apple, a ripe delicious fruit you are!” Jervis praised between slurps he let out a moan, he sounded so desperate and needy. Bucking and rolling against his chair more. “yum..yuuuumm my Hare..so sweet..so very delicious.” he hummed the song of the tea party against you. “just perfect to eat!”

You wanted to roll your eyes, to huff and complain at his nonsense but you couldn’t deny he was doing perfect. Your hands tugged on the restraints and you finally felt the ribbon loosen against the handles, yanking your arms forward and the bow came undone as your hands grabbed the back his head, intertwining into the thick heap that was his curly hair. Hatter’s eyes widened In surprise as you broke free from your bounds, his mouth opening to scold you but you beat him to it.

“Poor Hatter… you’re ravenous… someone’s been needing his desert, hasn’t he?” You coo once more, scrunching a fist fall of his hair just beneath the rim on his big top hat.

Hatter turned to putty as you pulled at his curly locks, gasping with a breathless giggle. Your fingers ran deep into his hair, his breathing was frantic as he moaned and whimpered with your hands being so greedy.

Nodding feverishly at your words. “oh yes! I’m famished! I am but a starving man and like the wolves I hunger for tasty rabbits.”

And it was true, he was ravenous, every cell in his body was hungry and wanting more. He couldn’t hold himself back anymore. His lips glued to the sticky mess that was your sex, sucking on your throbbing clit as he hummed, suckling on you like you were the finest meal he’s ever had. Moaning as he let his nose nudge and nuzzle against the pearl as his tongue slid between your folds and to your entrance.

With great reluctance, he pulled back from you as a string of saliva connected his tongue to you as he panted. His hands pried from your thighs as he began to eagerly tug off the silk gloves finger by finger. “But to truly enjoy my meal, the gloves must come off!” He declared, growing impatient as he just yanked his other glove off his hand and dived back in.

Your hands tighten In his hair as you see him discard his pretty gloves so eagerly. His hand reached between your legs to hold open your dripping cunt as he prodded his tongue inside. Keeping his face as pressed to you as humanly possible as he fucked you with his wiggling tongue. Needing to taste you inside and out. To feel you clench and flutter. To savour each dewy drop you produced just for him. Keening under all his attention as you let out a whine. One hand raising to keep his precious hat on his head as he enjoyed himself vigorously. Knowing he’d go into a moody state if his top hat was knocked off his head no matter his enjoyment. Your thighs trembling against either side of his head as you nod, unable to as words felt impossible. Feeling his tongue deep in you, hungrily lapping and fucking you.

Jervis’s eyes sparkled to see you put care into making sure his hat didn’t fall off. He had you well trained, a marvellous Hare! But then again with a good bunny like you, you would know better not to ruin his hat. Jervis’s grubby hand feel along your thigh as he uses his free hand to hold on to your hips. His other hand using his bare fingers to keep you spread open for him. Spitting directly onto your dewy spot as he giggled, chewing on his bottom lip. Sucking in what was left of his spit as he smeared it into you with his fingers. Watching it string and connect his fingers to your sex.

“Messy bunny…oh you sticky little treat.”

You gasp at the feel of his spit, leaning up as you yank on his hair and tug his head back. “filthy Hatter!” You scold, even if it did make your face warm and your body shudder. Your breathing heavy as you make his big eyes stare up at yours. Brows scrunched up to keep some display of authority. “you’re a dirty little man, aren’t you? Just spitting on your desert, no manners.”

A smile lit up his face, your voice scolding him made it all the more better. His tongue sliding out of his mouth as he let it trace along your wetness, his eyes wide as he looked into yours. Oh how one part of him wanted to put you in your place for scolding him, telling him how he should enjoy you but another whined at your light jabs at his character. Unable to decide, drunk on the taste of you as he licked his lips.

“No manners? No no! I have manners, my sweet, yes – your hatter has all his table manners but…oh you make me feel as if I am topsy-turvy! I am spun in the head!” He shook his head but he couldn’t deny this was pushing at his restraint. He needed more of you. “But I am a starving man and I am in need of more than just a succulent meal, I need warmth and a cosy place to tuck myself into.”

The hatter hastily undid his trousers and shimmered them down as he pulled himself out of his chair and up onto the table, crawling over you as he pulled your legs to your chest, his shoes letting out a squeak against the wooden table as the cloth rode up in his pursuit.

“JERVIS-!” You yelp with surprise, the teapots and cups rattling at the sudden movements. His chest pressing to yours as he nestled himself right where he needed to be, right between those pretty legs as his hands grasped at the edge of the table to keep himself steady. Your legs were hooked under his arms and dangling in the air. Staring up at him with eyes as wide as his as your breathing hitched. Heart racing faster than ever as your hands kept a tight grasp on his hair and down to his shoulders for stability. The weight of him was a welcomed change, feeling his stomach press against yours, feeling its roundness through his waistcoat.

His face was just mere inches from yours, his eyes glued on yours as you breathed. Your warm breath being the only thing he could feel with every exhalation, you could almost feel his heart beating against you. Your arms holding on to him for dear life was just the icing on the cake, a tasty cherry to top it all off.

“oh my, oh my, I’m not too heavy am I? A little hapless Hare like you, you’re not struggling with little ol’ Hatter, are you?” He teased, as he nestled into you, sinking his cock into your warm heat as he gripped the table tighter. His knees slightly bending to keep himself balanced, but more so it was then buckling at just first contact.

He sank in slowly as he stretched you out with the girth of him, as thick as the rest of him but just as short, as he let out giggles. Chewing on his lip to muffle them as he nodded. You gasp, clinging onto him as your legs kick out slightly. Letting out a strained and wobbly ‘ooooh…’ as he pressed into you. Staring down at you he spoke up once more, though strained in his words.

“mmph! Oh-oh h-haha! Hatter has fallen into his very own rabbit hole! I think Hatter will never escape! Ah-!” His hips met yours as he pressed more of his weight onto you, bottoming out completely with delight. He really has been training you well.

Scoffing at his words as your nose pressed against his, your hands gripping at his shoulders. Feeling the ribbon draped off the edge of his hat caress your cheek, returning his intense stare. “I don’t think this rabbit wants you to-“ you finally responded, able to gather the words that threatened to lose themselves on the tip of your tongue. You never wanted him to stop whenever you two got intimate, he made your head spin and your body react in ways you never did with others.

His mouth split Into a smile as he nodded, your hands on him were a delicious pleasure, his hands clawing at the table cloth. He started to pump, keeping pace with his words, his hips moving downwards to meet you. Balls smacking against your ass. “Oh…is that so?” He let out a soft moan as he felt a nice little jolt go through his body that made a little hum escape his throat as his eyes rolled slightly as a spark went through his body. Oh you were so perfect.

“mmm that’s it darling! Good Hare! Good bunny! Good good! Yes! Oh yes!”

You were clenching into him so tightly – why would he ever want to escape when your perfect sex was hugging him? Wrapping his cock In the warmest embrace he could ever withstand. Wanting him as desperately as he wants you. Panting as that familiar warm knot in his gut already formed. Your heat was too much- he whimpered. His eyes widening with a cry of protest as he thrusted into you.

Suddenly, cumming before he could even fully grasp. He couldn’t help but stutter out his breath, a bloom of shame appeared in the heat of his cheeks, trying to maintain appearance. He knew this may happen but this was not what he wanted. Not the first he’s been a quick shooter but with you? He was a man who liked to impress and this was certainly not a moment his own excitement getting the best of him was desired.

“I- you snug rabbit-“ he hissed, that pride of his burning at his own action. He was a brilliant man! The mad hatter! He was-! He…oh he was humiliated. You mouth part, my eyes locked downwards as you watch him falter. Feeling the hot seed shoot and paint your walls, not expecting it at all.

“Oh hatter…” You whine, your hands pulling him closer as you nuzzle your nose to his. “oh my shortcake..my hatter.” You coo, searching his eyes as one hand goes to his cheek, spotting the shame in his red cheeks and now wavering gaze.

“I am not so easily..explosive..” Jervis tried to explain as he tried to pull away from you. Which you hastily made sure he was securely pressed to you, the both of you moaning as his cock twitched inside you. He was in a frenzy of emotions. Your touch was so stimulating, your words sent jolts down his spine as his mind raced. His eyes were glued to your lips, almost wanting to kiss them. But strangely between you two, it felt too sacred. It was expected of two people who have such an affair.

“Did I squeeze too tight? You just make me so excited, I can’t help it, just like you can’t help that little burst, now could you?” You mumble quietly, trying to make sure he doesn't feel embarrassed. If anything, you found it flattering. You loved when he cummed and this was no different.

“oh…dear me…” the heat in his cheeks grew, and his breath quickened as you nuzzled him. Your voice was so sweet and smooth. A shiver went from his shoulders all the way down to his knees when you nuzzled your nose against his. Your comforting hand stroking his face made his lip curl up into a wobbly smile. “oh you are not mad at your Hatter, I couldn’t help it, when you squeeze and squeeze I go pop!”

“oh no, I’m not mad at all, I want…more of that-“ oh how you wanted him to just be blunt but he was a fickle man. Whenever your mouth was too dirty he’d rattle on about manners and how one Should talk to a man of his class so you do your best to reassure him. “-filling of yours, Jervis.”

Spotting his gaze flickering to your lips and you lean forward, kissing the top of his big nose as you shift my hips. Giving them a small wiggle as your feet press into his back to push his body more into yours, feeling him bottom out once again with a shudder.

“I think it would only be fair, wouldn’t you?” You give his hot cheek another caress as you smile at him. Abit strained with your own growing embarrassment. “I know you can do it, you’re the hatter and he can do impossible things, can’t he?" Doing your best to sound as encouraging as you could. You knew if he couldn’t handle it he’d say, no matter if you stroked his ego. He knew his limits.

The man's eyes were locked on yours as they met. Your words of encouragement spur him on, pushing him to go forth. A whimper escaped his lips as you shifted your hips and pushed up against him. The feeling was so incredible, your fluttering heat coaxing a few more strings of cum to ooze out.

“You-you’re so naughty and persistent…oh…oh-…oh damn it-! Just like your delicious quim you can’t go five seconds without wanting more…how is that fair? How can your Hatter ever compete with such a hungry and needy bunny like you?” He pouted, leaning over to kiss your nose back. Leaving another kiss on the edge of your lips as he trembled at the mere act. The tender kiss he couldn’t dare himself to steal.

Jervis started to pump into you once again, but this time slower. Easing himself in and out as the drag of the ridges of your walls and the veins of his cock rubbed so agonisingly deliciously together. His lips were trembling as he began to breathe heavily again. His brows pinched as he felt that confidence warm his chest as he tried to not focus on the twitch of overstimulation just on the edge of sensation. Threatening to make his brain putty.

“But- I am capable of doing many things…”

“I know you are, you’re just so brilliant like that.” You grin, mewling at the feeling of his thrusts. Tilting my head away just enough so your lips couldn’t touch, teasing him. Knowing even when he was balls deep he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you on the lips. It was cute in a way. Charming even.

Gripping onto him tighter than before as you nod. Relishing in his stamina still able to keep him going. “big capable Hatter, huh? I think it’s plenty… fair…you have someone that can’t get enough of you…”

Talking felt easier with the slow pace, words coming out between heavy puffs of air. Your head pressing more against the table, your legs squeezing just under his armpits. There was a numb pain in your back, the cold of the metal tray beneath you but your blood was rushing too fast to truly feel it. Too focus on the feel of him.

The warmth you gave him with your compliments caused him to melt further into you, your words making him smile more. But when you shifted, he frowned a bit, your tease was very naughty. Using his timidness (shocking he could still be) against him. He pouted his lips and made a low noise in the back of his throat as he pushed even more into you. Biting your cheek with a nip as retaliation making you let out a small yelp of surprise.

“But it's been…hard to not keep you filled with cream, turn you into…my little éclair-'' Jervis whined, your heat causing more shivers down his spine as his pace grew more steady. Confident. He grinned, squeezing his eyes shut as his jaw was clenched. Your walls still hugging him like your life depended on it. How very naughty you were!

“oh god- oh god your too tight-!” He whimpered out with a small cry. His hands almost ripping the table cloth as the table trembled and rocked from his movements.

“Your éclair-?” You gasp out, your brain was mush as your legs gripped and lightly kicked at his back. Your eager hands lifted up to reach his, grasping them tightly as your eyes fluttered. “you want that?” You tease more, testing how he’ll react, not the first time he’s said something like that to you but in the silly ways he spoke his filthy desires you couldn’t help but encourage him. Perhaps you were as whipped for him as cream.

Feeling that familiar knot in your stomach as your fingers interlocked. Your own orgasm approaches with each electrifying friction. Feeling his stomach just graze against your clit, the fabric of his waistcoat making you keen.

The feel of your hands grasping his and interlocking with them was like a new set of handcuffs keeping him in place. And how could he ever dream of escaping the wonderland that was you? He couldn't. He wouldn't.

“H-haha…ha ha…oh-oh yes-! I- I want you to be my little éclair. A creamy, delicious one.” He hummed, licking your cheek with one long slow drag of his tongue, tasting your skin. Just able to taste the layer of salt forming on It as his cock twitched. The faster his hips moved the more overstimulation bit at his nerves but you were far too delicious to give up. But he knew his limit was approaching. “I want to fill you till you’re overflowing…and I’ll eat you up-“

Licking his damp lips as he pressed his nose to your cheek as he groaned. Overstimulation began to sting at his pulsing nerves as tears started to form into his eyes, his second orgasm rushing towards the finish line with you.

Just another hard few thrusts and the feel of his body just flicking your bud made that knot slap. “Hatter-!” You let out a squeal, your heels completely digging into his back as your eyes squeezed shut. Toes curling as your own release crashed over you. Your hands gripping his so tight as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to stop from being too loud but your attempt was futile. The loud clattering of the table and the teapots just barely drowning the sounds out.

His eyes shot open at the sudden release of yours. His grip tightened on your hands as he moaned into your cheek, tears falling down his cheek as he slammed into you. Completely filling you.

“oh god- squeezing-! Oh dear god- oooo-ooo-“ his voice faltered as your moans took its place, his body shook uncontrollably, his mind was in oblivion as he emptied himself into you. Painting your walls again, drooling as his mouth hung open. So caught up in it all he didn’t even realise his precious top hat fell off his head!

Feeling his body slump, your hands reached up to his head and cradled it. Easing him down as he jerked and trembled. Feeling sticky wet from his drool against your skin. Your legs falling down and resting on the back of his knees as both of your bodies gave out. His knees knocking against the table with a thud. Cooing as you nuzzled against him. Your hands smoothed and toyed with his curly hair, grounding the both of you as you caught a glimpse of his fucked out expression.

“oh Jervis.” You whisper, giving his cheek a kiss as you tried to ride out the high with him. Your bodies clumsily rub against each other. Feeling the pitter patter of his tears fall down onto your cheek. Immediately consoling him with kisses under and around his eyes.

The man's body was limp, the heat he felt coursing through him left him exhausted, his lips were curled into a small smile as you nuzzled him. Your cooing voice was like a dove's melody to his ears. He was still drooling slightly, he was like a puddle of melted chocolate on your lap, utterly ruined. Liquid in your hands, defenceless and blissed. You were definitely the best sweet he had ever had. His eyelids slowly opened back up, his eyes were tired and his throat was hoarse, his cheeks were still wet with your kisses. He was too exhausted and overwhelmed to speak any words. Only able to make a few slurred giggles and whines. You had completely wrecked him, just as he hoped you would when he got those goons to bring you to him, to present you so prettily with a bow.

“sweet Jervis…my shortcake.” The high left you in a daze but the adrenaline was dying down. Letting out a small noise of discomfort, the consequences of the continuous smack of your bodies made your tailbone hit the large tray you were resting on. In your shared bliss you completely forgot you were still set up like a delicious meal and now your back was feeling sore. Trying to nudge his heavy weight off you, though it was soothing to have. Grounding your dizzy mind.

“I need to move-“

But he didn’t want to move, his legs were jelly and every bump of your bodies together made that overstimulation strike him. Whimpering as his brain screamed for him to move but his body pleaded to stay in your wet heat. He tried to roll over for your own benefit but he miscalculated how far you two were to the side.

Letting out a yelp, never more thankful the flooring of his tearoom was padded as his back smacked against the floor as he fell off the table. Bringing you with him, yelping with him, as the table rattled loudly, the tray under you went clattering down on the floor. His cock falling out of your heat only adds to the jolt. His blissful high ruined as he was forcibly snapped out of it. Blinking as his cheeks were as bright as they could be now before he started to laugh. Unable to restrain himself as laughter poured out.

His laughter cut through the second of silence that came after the crash. Blinking in surprise as you finally noticed the puddle of tea on the table and the floor from all the moving on the table in your vigorous play. Your brain needing a few seconds to catch up to the sudden fall as you looked down at him; The lingering afterglow coating your mind as you listen to his sudden burst of laughter. It caught you off guard. A surprised chuckle escaped you before I started laughing too. Joining him as you both grew amused by the ridiculousness of it all.

His giggling became more genuine, and his eyes finally cleared up as he glanced at the tea mess on the floor. If it weren’t the honeyed glaze coating his brain and the absolute enjoyment of you he’d be sent into a tizzy. He took a big breath before sighing, his laughter turning into dying out chuckles.

“Oh dear, this is why we shouldn’t partake in such acts of debauchery. It's simply not good for our health.”

Your hands slid along his chest, letting out a little whine as you can feel the consequences. The pain shooting up from your tailbone up and the emptiness without his dick stuffing you beautifully. The feeling of his cum dribbling down your thighs and getting on his stomach. Adding to the mess around you two. Nosing his red cheek as I shook my head, a few giggles slipping out.

“perhaps not having it on the table will be for the best”

“Tables will be off limits…until I make some adjustments.” Jervis muses with a grin before a small, disappointed frown washed over his face the consequences of your wildness began to take its toll on you.

His hands went to your back as he saw the little aches of you and it made him frown more. Rubbing your back in tiny little circles with his fingers. He was a responsible person after all. Even after such activities, he shouldn’t have been so greedy with you.

“Oh My dear Hare, are you alright? Are you feeling pain?” His eyebrows wrinkled together in worry.

You nodded, sighing as you sank against him, the mess can be handled after. “My tailbone hurts, must have banged it on the tray dish I was on.” You admit, utterly caught up in the bliss of it all, of him, to even notice but now with adrenaline running out of my system you could feel it. Cuddling close to him as you stroke his cheek.

Oh that displeased him greatly.

“oh bad- bad hatter.” He tuts, shaking his head as he scolds himself. Bad, bad bad.” As he says that each time he makes your hand slap his tear stained cheek, not too harshly but it left a small sting. You wanted to protest, not wanting him to slap himself but he was already moving on. Cuddling you up to him as he forced himself to sit up.

“Luckily I have all the ailments to your issues right here-“ Jervis reaches up for his hat, his marvellous top hat, but it finally struck him! it has fallen off! His eyes wide and a sharp panicked gasp left him.

“my hat! Oh! My hat! Where-? When-?!” His head whipped side to side to see if it landed with you two on the floor. His fingers tapped and searched the very top of his head as if the hat would somehow be found in his curls. “thief-! Theft! Oh I bet it was that blasted cat-!”

The man rants as he scrambles around, but still reluctant to move far from you, checking under the table cloth to find his hat. He needed his hat, it had everything – his hard work and love poured into it. He kept things tucked into the band on the inside. His precious gadget was attached to his hat. How could he ever face batman- his goons- the world without his hat!?

Knowing he was a sensitive man about his hat, you look around with him. Spotting his hat still on the table as you wobbled up, reaching over to and grabbed It. Another wince leaving you as you stretched out your back. Hastily, you placed it firmly back on his head. Making sure all the ribbons and accessories were placed on it were still tidy and didn’t get tea split on it.

“Oh there, there, see it’s like it was never gone.” You sooth, kissing both of his cheeks as you dust off some powdered sugar from the top of it. Keeping your face close to his as you did your best to give a reassuring smile. “No cat, it just fell off.”

Jervis exhaled in relief, his breathing steady again as he watched you reach over and grab his beloved hat. Your touch, sweet and gentle as you place it on Jervis’s head again. It’s as if he breathed better once it hit his head, he seemed less frantic with you there supporting him and his hat back in place. Jervis was still shaking a little, his heart pounding in his throat. You truly were a blessing in his miserable life. He knew you were different from the day he met you, when he stopped hypnotising you and you still obeyed him so happily. You were perfect. So utterly Perfect.

“Oh – my- thank you, oh- god..thank you..”

Now his hat was back, he whipped back to his usual demeanour. Smiling, kissing your nose before he pulls out a ibuprofen packet from the side of his hat, hidden behind some feathers as he lets out a ‘ta da!’.

“Now let’s get you feeling better…I think after all that I need to have another taste of my bunny to calm me down.” He giggled, a mischievous look growing back on his face, his hand stroking along your aching back as he grinned so wide.

#arcadejohn1279 #mad hatter #mad hatter x reader #jervis tetch #jervis tetch x reader #afab reader #March hare nsft #mad hatter nsft #Jervis Tetch nsft #dc comics #dcu #dc universe #Dc comics nsft #bunny nsft #he's calls me his silly rabbit and i giggle and laugh because hes so right #i am not normal about him #mad hatter! Jervis Tetch

103 notes · View notes