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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 11 months ago

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All Yours. Only Yours.

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: smut

It's been a little over 4 months since you and Lewis were forced to part your ways. It's been a little over 4 months since you have not been feeling yourself.

You weren't officially in a relationship, but you both fell hard for each other, you saw a future with each other. You were his baby girl, the only woman he wanted everything with. And you, you felt the happiest ever with him, safe in his arms, in his embrace. His kisses and his soft touch were your safe haven.

But 4 months ago all of that stopped when your father found out you were seeing Lewis. Your father completely lost it when he saw Lewis' arms wrapped around your waist and his lips pressed against yours. He couldn't stand the fact that his little girl was with a man 14 years older than her. He didn't see you as the woman that you were and so for him that relationship between the two of you was unacceptable.

At that very moment he forbade you to ever see him again. He told Lewis that if he ever approached you again, he would not be held accountable for his actions. He didn't care that Lewis was a seven time world champion nor that you would be financially secure with him for the rest of your life and you would never lack for anything. In his eyes, Lewis was a slob taking advantage of a young girl, his daughter, he despised it as much as he despised him.

You tried to protest, to convince him that Lewis' intentions with you were pure, that he would never do anything to hurt you and the most important thing that you love him and that you are truly happy with him. You begged, you were desperate, but that only made him angrier so that's when he gave you an ultimatum - if you choose to be with Lewis, you can forget that you have a father. It was either Lewis or him.

Your father's lack of understanding broke your heart, and it broke Lewis to see you like that. He could handle many things, but seeing his girl suffering was not on of those things. Lewis decided that he was not going to be the guy who stood between father and daughter and destroyed their close relationship.

He was forced to make one of the hardest decisions of his life and get away from you for good. He pushed you away, pretended he didn't want to see you again even though he was dying to. Deep down you knew why he was doing it, but that didn't ease your suffering one bit.

One night you cried so much that you physically felt pain in your chest. You could no longer spend your days and nights wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he had found someone new or if he was still thinking about you. You felt like your head was going to explode from all those questions you didn't know the answers to. That's when you found yourself knocking on his door late at night.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He asked as he opened the door. His eyes quickly filled with worry when he saw you crying in front of his door, but little did he know that as soon as you saw him, you instantly felt better.

He was standing in front of you, shirtless, looking down at you and barely holding back from pulling you to himself.

"Lew..I can't..I can't take it anymore.." You sobbed. "Don't you dare push me away and tell me that I can't be here because I don't wanna hear it!"

His eyes softened at your words and heart hurt a little even though he felt relieved that you still felt the same way about him.

"Baby girl.." He wiped away the tears under your eyes with his thumbs before pulling you into a tight hug. The tightest one yet.

"I miss you, Lew" You whisper as you wrap your arms around his neck your eyes darting to his lips. "Don't you miss me too?" You ask tilting your head a little as he brushes the hair out of your face.

"Of course I do" He sighs leaning his forehead against yours. "Fuck, I miss you more than I thought was possible"

"Then let's not miss each other anymore. Let's put an end to this agony and be together" Your eyes pleaded.

"Y/n, I want that more than life itself, but you know it's not that simple"

"I don't care, I've had enough. I won't let anyone else decide my happiness." You stated. "It's you that I want. Maybe some people will find it hard to accept, but it's 10 times harder for me to be without you than to fight with my dad."

Your words somehow brought peace to his soul. They encouraged him to fight for you and your future because for him there was before you, but there is no after you.

"I never thought you were gonna get that much under my skin. I should be pushing you away right now, telling you you should find someone else, someone better for you. I just can't seem to.. Or I don't want to. Or maybe both."

After what felt like ages, his lips finally met yours again. The kiss wasn't soft nor gentle, it was hungry and passionate, eager for more. "Come here" He slammed the door before patting the back of your thighs to which you responded by jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You never broke the kiss as he led you towards his bedroom and laid you down on the bed.

He helped you take off your clothes leaving you only in your bra and panties. He took a second to admire your body tracing his fingers over your hip bone. "You're so beautiful, baby"

You smiled at his compliment tilting your head to get a better look of him as he started leaving kisses all over your stomach. Once his lips reached the hem of your panties, he stopped for a second to look up at you while his hand caressed your leg.

"Can I kiss you here?" He asked softly.

"Please kiss me there" You quickly granted his request.

"Spread your legs for me"

He left a kiss over the lace fabric before tugging them down your legs and letting them fall to the floor. He started slowly, licking you lazily up and down your folds. You were so eager for him that you could feel your wetness trickling down your holes. You clenched your legs around his head giving him a perfect opportunity to grab your ass and bury his face deeper.

"Ahh, yes, yes" You moaned as his tongue swirled over your clit. He was changing his pace, leaving quick kitten licks and then attaching his lips to your clit and sucking on it.

You started to move too much from the pleasure that was overwhelming you so he put his hand over your stomach to keep you in place. His other hand found your entrance and the tips of his fingers started teasing you circling around it.

"Please" You pleaded.

"Please what? What do you want, baby?"

"Put your fingers in me"

The sight of you lying so spread out for him, whimpering his name, begging him for more made him grind his hips against the mattress trying to create any kind of friction to his rock hard dick.

Granting your wish he pushed his index finger in. His eyes were stuck on your parted lips and closed eyes, he loved how responsive, how obedient you were to him. You arched your back as he added another one pumping them in and out of you. It didn't take long for your legs to start shaking and squeezing around his head.

"That's it baby, cum around my fingers"

As you finished, he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips to taste you not wasting any drop as he licked them clean.

"You did so good" He said softly into your ear before he kissed you.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"Have you been with anyone else since we stopped seeing each other?" You were curious. You don't know how you would react if he actually was. It would hurt you, definitely, but you'd still want him as much as you do now.

"No, baby girl, the other side of this bed belongs only to you." He smiled caressing your cheek knowing there was no other girl for him except for you.

"And what about you?"

"All yours. Only yours." He assured you once again bringing peace to your mind and heart. "Gonna prove it to you right now" He said leaving sloppy kisses down your neck. "Gonna show you how much I missed you"

Pulling down his shorts and boxers, he pressed his dick against your stomach slowly grinding himself up and down while holding his weight on his arms just above you.

Your hand slid down taking him in your hand and giving him a few strokes. Your touch made him shiver and groan in response. It was as if he was waiting for your permission.

"Fuck me, Lew" You whispered. Your hand led him to your entrance and he wasted no time pushing himself inside of you. He left kisses all over your face and stayed still so you could get used to him. Once you felt ready he started slowly thrusting in and out of you.

"You feel how hard I am for you? Only you can make me this hard, baby" You moaned at his words wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Uhh, yes baby, fuck me, fuck me hard"

"Fuck, baby, you're so dirty" Lewis got a little carried away at your prompting so he suddenly and strongly increased his pace. Your breasts spilled out of your bra as he pounded into you and he couldn't resist but to leave mark just above your nipple. "So fucking perfect"

Your brought your hands to your boobs squeezing them and playing with your nipples and the sight drove him completely crazy. It awakened the animal in him so he pulled out only to push his dick all the way inside you. You winced pushing your hand at his pelvis as he hit your deepest spot.

"You okay, baby? Want me to stop?" He asked with concern.

"No, no it's just you're so big and so deep inside" You whimpered.

"Yeah, baby? You feel me here?" He smirked putting his hand over your lower stomach. "You feel me in your stomach? Just a little more love, I'm almost there. You gonna cum with me?" You nodded as he started slowly moving again.

"Take it just like that. My good girl taking my dick so well. So pretty. Can't get enough of you." You moaned as your hand slid down your stomach adding pressure to your clit while Lewis continued fucking you.

"You gonna let me fill you up?"

"Mhm" You moaned.

"Yeah? Wanna see my cum dripping out of your pussy" The pressure in the pit of your stomach started building up again with every dirty word that left his lips. "Gonna get you full of my cum, fuck" That's all it took to push you over the edge and come undone around him. You screamed out his name and his orgasm followed yours filling you up to the brim.

Both panting, sweating, you could hardly catch your breath as a strong sense of pleasure coursed through your bodies. Still deeply immersed in you, he propped himself up on his elbows hovering over you and leaving a kiss on your cheek. "Are you okay, baby?" He asked.

"I'm more than okay" You smiled rubbing his cheek with your thumb as his eyes lit up.

"That's good to hear."

"Let's take a shower and cuddle until we fall asleep, yeah?"

"Wait, before we do that, I just wanna tell you something"

"Tell me what?"

"I love you, so much" And there it was. His first I love you to you. The first time he said it out loud even though he's showed it in so many ways already. "Wanna spend the rest of my life with you"

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I love you, baby."

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 blurb

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cooneyscross · 9 months ago

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odio amarte

Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!reader

summary: All of your Barca teammates think you and Alexia need to get together, but the two of you are 'enemies'.

(i do not speak much Spanish, so if some of my translations are wrong I apologise!)

a/n: not proof read or edited and very short

'What is wrong with you Alexia!' You exclaim when the Spanish girl spills her cup of coffee all over the table, the brown liquid smudging your notes that you had been working on forever.

She looks up to you and sends you a dirty glare. 'It's not my fault that you've taken up the whole table with your stupid homework meaning I had no where to put my cup.' She snaps back gesturing to the mess you had created everywhere.

'You could've just asked me to move some stuff.' You tell her sighing as you try to make out the messed up words. 'Or do I scare you to much?' You tease a small smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.

'¿alguna vez te callaste?' (do you ever shut up?) she mutters walking away into the kitchen leaving you alone to try and clean up her mess.

No one really knew why you and Alexia despised each other so much, some of the fans thought it was because Alexia was scared that you would replace her on the team and others would make up crazy rumours that were definitely untrue.

You're teammates didn't have a clue and to be fair neither did you. You hated Alexia because she had always been mean to you, and you had no idea why. If you were entirely honest you didn't really hate the girl, you often found yourself enjoying the attention she gave to you whenever you two were arguing.

After a while of rewriting your notes you placed them all in a neat pile and stood up stretching your back. You're teammates had left to go to the shops about an hour ago, leaving you and Alexia home alone together. They were meant to be back soon but you still had some time to kill and decided to do one of your favourite things.

Annoying Alexia.

You wonder into the living room of your and Keira's shared apartment, sitting on the armchair next to the couch where Alexia was already sitting, her eyes glued to her phone.

The Spaniard hated it when you would bite your teeth, a nasty habit you often found yourself absentmindedly doing.

This time however, you purposely starting chewing on your nails. Pretending to stare out the window, when in reality you were staring at the blonde girl on your couch, a grin forming on your face when she noticed your actions and her jaw tensed.

Her mouth stayed shut though, not wanting to give you the reaction you clearly wanted.

Alexia had not known you for very long, but in the time you had been teammates at Barca your relationship had been rocky to say the least.

She was entirely to blame for your constant bickering, she was the one who hadn't even bothered being nice when you'd approached her on your first training session.

Alexia did feel bad for how rude she had been to you, but once she had began and you had retaliated she couldn't back down and seem like a coward in front of you.

That would be humiliating.

On your first day, Alexia was late, but you'd immediately caught her attention. You'd only been there for a few hours but you already seemed so comfortable talking with all the girls like you'd known them for ages.

You'd already had Alexia hooked and she didn't like that. She didn't like the way that her heart would race whenever you laughed or the way she'd look in the mirror to checked how she looked whenever you walked closer.

In all honesty she was scared of her feelings.

She felt like a stranger in her own body, completely foreign to all the feelings she was experiencing.

She'd never felt this way before for someone she'd only just met.

It didn't seem like it at all. But those feelings had stuck with her for almost a year and a half now.

She hid it behind every insult and eye roll. She'd blame it on her anger whenever her cheeks flushed red at something you did.

But the Spanish captain was still yet to react to your nail biting, which was unusual for her, and you're nails were beginning to bleed from biting them for too long.

Disappointed in the result, you decided not to back down just yet, starting to make clicking noises with your tongue knowing that it always drove Alexia crazy.

It only took a few seconds for her turn around and face you. 'I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work.' She snaps making you grin as your plan had worked.

'Are you sure about that?' You tease, making her roll her eyes and huff as you begin clicking your tongue even more.

'odio amarte!' (i hate that i love you) she groans hands flying up to her hair.

All of a sudden your clicking stops and your whole face burns bright red. You didn't know a lot of Spanish as you sucked at learning languages but you'd learnt quite a bit from just hanging out with the other girls.

You thought you hadn't heard her right. Surely she wouldn't say something like that right? You must've translated it all wrong.

Alexia had noticed the way you'd frozen up and how a light blush painted your cheeks.

'Alexia?' You questioned, voice weak and quiet not quite processing what she had just said. 'Why did you say that?'

Her eyes widened and all of a sudden the normally cool and composed Spanish captain felt sick. She was so used to muttering stuff in Spanish around you that she'd forgotten you actually did know a fair bit.

'Nothing.' She said but it didn't matter, you both knew exactly what she had said and now all insults were long gone, instead you sat in an awkward silence.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to take a big risk; 'Do you mean it?'

Alexia didn't know how to respond, she couldn't really say that no, but she also didn't want to confess the truth.

'I-I guess...' She stutters her cheeks permanently pink. 'I guess that I do.'

You were in shock for a while not knowing how to respond.

Alexia didn't know what to do either. She don't know what made her get up from her seat and do the one thing she never thought she'd do.

She kissed Y/N L/N...

'I keep finding new ways to stuff up don't I?' Alexia sighed when she pulled away from the kiss.

'No.' You say, putting your fingers up to her lip. 'You didn't.'

'I didn't what?' Alexia says shocked, looking at you with wide eyes. Not believing what you had just said.

'You didn't mess up.' You said sternly, placing your hand on her shoulders and looking at her in the eyes 'Not even a little bit.'

'You sure?' Alexia asks you, looking down and biting her lip in nervousness.

'I think I'm sure.' You say, a small and nervous smile on your face. 'As long as you don't regret doing it.'

'I don't' Alexia exclaimed a little too loudly causing you to move a little bit away from her due to the loudness of her voice.

'I'm sorry.' She said, laughing awkwardly and rubbing the back of her head.

'Don't worry about it.' You smile a small laugh also escaping from your lips.

'No really I'm sorry.' Alexia says, her mood changing to much more serious 'I'm sorry for being a dickhead for the past year, I shouldn't have been that rude to you.'

'I mean, I was rude as well, you're not the only one at fault here.' You laugh lightly.

'No, you were only like that because I didn't give you a proper chance and I'm sorry.' She says, looking genuinely sad.

_______

Meanwhile, Keira, Lucy, Ingrid and Mapi were all walking home from the shops together. Mapi slower than the others as she had been forced to carry all the bags.

'I wonder how Y/n and Alexia are?' Keira wonders, everyone knowing how much you to argue. 'Probably wasn't the best idea to leave the two of them alone together.'

'y/n/n had uni work and Alexia said she'll stay and make sure she's alright.' Lucy states 'Half the time I can't tell if they're fighting or flirting, it's kind of funny. I wonder who'll make the first move.'

'Let's just hope they're not at each others throats again. I hate when they fight.' Ingrid sighs, taking a bag of Mapi after noticing her struggling.

'I agree, when they fight they're one step away from getting together. I don't think I can handle anymore of their longing stares at each other when they think no one is looking. The two of them cause most of my stress now.' Keira sighs, shaking her head.

The English midfielder sticks her key into the lock of your shared apartment when the four footballers arrive opening the door and walking in.

They all make their way to the living room. Absolutely nothing prepared them for what they were about to see.

Sitting on the couch, Alexia Putellas and Y/N L/N were at each others throats. But not in the fighting way. Keira choked on her own saliva in shock, Lucy and Ingrid gasped and Mapi just yelled.

'¡mis ojos!' (my eyes) Mapi exclaimed, startling you and Alexia causing you to pull away from each other. Blushes covering both of your faces.

'Surprise?' You say sheepishly.

part 2?

sorry this isn't the best

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #lionesses #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #spainwnt #barca femeni #lucy bronze #keira walsh #mapi leon #ingrid engen

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doujindungeon · 2 months ago

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summary: tonight, you had no plans to take any requests for your dj set at london's acclaimed ministry of sound. so what do you do when your boyfriend carlos shows up in desperation to request that you take him back? rating: nc-17 pairing: f!reader/carlos content warnings: established relationship, smut, oral sex (reader receiving, carlos DEFINITELY giving), if you're trying to see a grown man be horrendously down and desperate to get you back pull up word count: 5.8k

There would be no Sade played at the club tonight.

It wasn't as if you had anything against the group’s discography–far from it.

Rather, you were simply adamant to play literally anything else during your DJ set at the Ministry of Sound.

Tinashe, Daft Punk, Kylie Minogue–if it truly came down to it, you’d even throw on some Enya.

Because it only took one request for one particular song that instantly would remind you why you currently weren’t on speaking terms with your boyfriend.

Carlos.

You knew getting into a relationship with a man with such international renown and adoration came with certain risks, some compromises, and unavoidable sacrifices. By no means would you ask that he forsake his lifelong passion for racing for you–especially since comparatively, it would be similar to him demanding that you give up your blossoming career as a DJing producer to settle with being his housewife.

Still, it didn’t hurt any less when some weeks ago you asked if he would be able to come see you at any of your shows during your ongoing tour, with a few stops happening to align with his racing schedule breaks.

He said ‘no’ with big apologetic brown eyes and a jutted bottom lip.

Though his expression was precious, the look on his face was the exact same one he made over and over whenever he declared that he wouldn’t be able to see you perform.

To this day in the weeks since, you were still struggling to block out the argument that left a trail of missed calls, pitiful voicemails, and ignored texts from your boyfriend in its wake.

The prelude to the current song of solitude that you had been performing on your own since.

While despising the idea of keeping score or anything close to such a ridiculous notion in your relationship with him, there was still an inescapable pain wedged in your chest between the seeming care and desire you both gave to one another–especially as the two of you were careful to guard your love for one another with discreet privacy away from the prying public eye. Throughout this year, you managed to make time between touring and working on your next record to fly out to support him on his races whenever you could.

Not to mention, you couldn’t deny his late night calls as he begged for you to come join him at whatever fancy hotel he was staying in with ragged breath, desperate desire lacing every single one of his words.

And your public profile and prestige were nowhere near his.

Carlos had all the resources and capabilities to literally meet you halfway, and yes he was the embodiment of a hopeless romantic, but there was a matter of actions speaking louder than words, and he could sweetly murmur in your ear and continuously text “ti amo mucho, my vida” to your phone all he wanted, but based on how he treated you and your own passion, it just felt like he couldn’t give any less of a shi–

You bit back a curse as you found yourself fumbling a crossfade between tracks.

That was enough about your boyfriend, who should be locked in press conference purgatory by countless journalists after placing third in Imola today after George and Max.

It was full focus on your DJ set moving forward tonight.

Separate from your tour–which had you performing to a sold out crowd at Brixton Academy the night before–your presence at Ministry of Sound was actually a last minute addition. While you were lazily partaking in brunch after sleeping in through the morning at your hotel room, one of your local DJ friends texted and asked if you would be down to join his show as an opener for a casual, low pressure set.

You happily agreed and by the late afternoon, you announced your guest appearance on social media.

And now, here you were, dressed simply and summery–a tube top that hugged your curves, shorts that cut just below your bottom, and a pair of tennis shoes with a few of your favorite accessories. While London summer nights weren’t ungodly, a sold out club show turned the historic Ministry into a damn sauna.

With you also bouncing around to the bumping beats of your mixes and occasionally hopping on top of the DJ booth to hype up the crowd, this ensured that your skin was going to be beyond glistening by the end of your set.

A drink was definitely in order.

Prepped to perform once you were done with your set, your friend was happy to be your personal waiter, frequently traveling to and from the bar with any drink you fancied, along with a few personal recommendations.

But it wasn’t until he returned with a particular mix that left you pleasantly surprised as he set it right by your DJ controller.

It was your favorite cocktail, mixed and garnished to your exact preference.

“The bartender said that someone ordered this for you–a fan I think?” Your friend remarked with a hand cupped over their mouth, his voice raised to fight against the booming volume of the club’s cacophony of inebriated cheers and your remixed beats.

Your eyebrow quirked as surprise turned to suspicion when you noticed a couple notes stuck to the bottom of the glass. Still, you proceeded to pluck at the bits of paper, both left damp from the condensation formed from your drink.

Beneath the strobing lights and haze from the club’s state-of-the-art smoke machine, you squinted at what was written on both notes.

hello lovely can you play sade pls :)

i miss you so much :(

You froze.

The scribbled handwriting was one you knew all too well.

Your first instinct was to quickly scan around the crowd, doing your best to hide your shock–especially when you knew somebody was going to have their phone out, whether pointed at you while you performed or clubbers taking a selfie. Though, with the mess of writhing bodies, the blinding colorful lasers, and the heady fog of nicotine and machine, such efforts were futile.

With this, you immediately resorted to tapping at your phone screen to see if there were any texts sent or missed phone calls.

Nothing.

Outwardly, you smiled at your friend in thanks for bringing your drink over.

But inwardly?

The festive adrenaline from performing was morphing into hollowing tension.

He had to be here.

But this was utter insanity–your boyfriend had weeks if not months in advance to prepare to see you at one of your concerts when you initially asked if he would be able to make it out, but he outright turned that down and said he couldn’t make it.

Yet to show up from across another country–regardless of how relatively short of a flight it was–on a show you only just barely announced earlier in the day?

You sighed to yourself as you brought your cocktail up to your lips, gulping it down in one go.

Yeah, that was Carlos all right.

Being essentially stalked by your own boyfriend at your own show–you definitely weren’t drunk enough for this.

It was then that your phone screen suddenly lit up with the arrival of a new text.

You glanced down.

drink up my pretty girl ♡

You suddenly felt so much more exposed than ever before.

Wherever he was in the club, he had a full view of you.

It made you wonder how long he had been watching you on stage. Did he catch you climbing onto the booth to shake your ass while encouraging the crowd to let loose? Or when you were bouncing around so much to some bubblegum bangers that your breasts almost spilled out from your top? Not to mention, all the sultry slutty lyrics that you were happily mouthing out to the crowd while you continued to perform–you could only imagine the sort of nasty yearning was likely flooding his brain.

Before your argument, he was already calling you constantly to come join him after mere days spent apart, and it had since been weeks since the two of you were physically in the same space so you knew without a doubt he was likely on the brink of insanity!

Regardless, you knew deep in your heart that whatever naughty thoughts were swirling around his head, the moment you were ever within his reach, he’d be hauling you off to bed–or any other sufficient surface–, his apologies mixed amongst needy kisses and breathless moans while his hands clawed at your clothes–

You brought a hand up to your face to fan away the rising heat in your cheeks.

This was most definitely not the time to delve any further into such a scenario.

For now, since you still had a fair amount of stage time before you would swap out with your friend, you re-centered your concentration back to your set, spinning club classics with tracks from your own discography while you continued to curate the club’s vivacious atmosphere.

Along with thinking of how you were going to slip away without having to encounter Carlos.

All while his texts flooded right in.

ohh!! this song!! one of my favorites from you!!

i’ve been playing this a lot during my recent workouts!! it reminds me of you 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Rather than text back, you opted to instead immediately transition this very song to Alice Deejay’s “Better Off Alone”. And though you smiled at the crowd’s cheers upon hearing the iconic synths of the sacred Eurodance track, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pain in your chest knowing that his signature injured puppy look was going to be plastered all over that handsome face of his upon realizing what you just conveyed.

It didn’t help either that when you took a step back to groove around and sing along with the crowd chanting out the chorus in drunken unison, another glance at your phone had your heart twist all the more.

don’t say that amor

or play that

please.

The weight of the period in his last text could’ve leveled the entire club.

You were compelled to scan around the crowd once again, your gaze trying to cut through the layers of smoke and lasers to determine just where the hell Carlos was playing voyeur from.

At the same time, your phone continued to light up with more messages, a shining beacon amidst the haze of the club.

only thing i want right now is to dance up there with you

especially while you have that little outfit on 🥵🥵🥵🥵

For both of your sakes, you prayed that this wasn’t about to be the turning point where he dared to start sexting you while you were performing. Dealing with him while he was begging for forgiveness was a handful in itself, but trying to win against him while he had you begging for him to ruin you thoroughly was impossible.

i miss waking up with you in the morning 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

i miss YOU!!!

Thankfully he opted to go more sentimental than sexual.

Still, at this point, you wondered if it was best to break your vow of playing no Sade to cue up the intro of that song just to hard cut to the anthem of FC Barcelona.

You knew you would never see the light of day ever again if you did such a thing.

Carlos would make sure of it.

Yet while dipping to such petty lows was a tempting thought, you resigned to stop your search for your lover to focus on closing out your set, especially since your friend had returned from his last bar run of the evening.

With yet another one of your favorite cocktails in hand, notes stuck to the bottom once again.

While you had no desire to peer at whatever your boyfriend scrawled out, you would at least savor another drink to help deal with his shenanigans this evening–

“Wait, is that Carlos Sainz?”

Your friend’s voice by your ear, raucous cheers from the crowd, phones raised high in the air, the heave of your chest as you choking and sputtering on your first sip.

Your head snapped up to witness Carlos being lifted and propped up by a merry group of club bros. He immediately commanded any and all attention, looking as breathtakingly handsome as ever even while dressed in a simple yet ungodly pricy blue dress shirt and black pants.

Having once struggled to pick him out within the crowds of Ministry, you found yourself frozen and still in place as his eyes immediately locked directly with yours. Though he was all smiles as he ran a hand through the wild waves of his raven black hair, his gaze was nothing short of smouldering and intense as he stared directly at you.

Even with the club air hot and humid from all the writhing bodies, you still found yourself shivering.

He most definitely was watching you flaunt your body while you danced around earlier.

Your voyeur had just come forth to present himself now as your hunter instead, refusing to be ignored by you any longer.

And yet, you denied him your attention as you quickly busied yourself with mixing, your mind in a flustered flurry of beat matching and figuring out your escape plan.

At the same time, you braced yourself.

Carlos Sainz Jr. was at a club, surrounded by the adoring public.

That song was going to be mentioned, to be requested for you to play by a cheeky drunk or two or five.

Was it not your role as the DJ to honor his appearance by playing one of his most favorite songs?

Even while unbeknownst to everyone in the club that he had pissed off this very DJ a few weeks ago?

While you wondered how you were going to try to avoid the inevitability of having to play that particular Sade single, your boyfriend continued to do the absolute most to catch your attention. After all, he was right in the center of the crowd, so you were bound to look his way regardless.

It was when he managed to catch your gaze a few songs later as you were finally finishing the rest of the cocktail he last sent over that he had you ensnared.

His eyes quickly closed for a wink as he grinned from ear to ear, flexing his body as he danced while purposefully maneuvering and twisting his body to effectively cause the top couple buttons of his dress shirt to pop right off.

You nearly dropped your glass.

The generous glimpse of his bared chest had you immediately turning your eyes away, even as your teeth sunk into your bottom lip.

Weeks of separation could end tonight. If you dared to be within arm’s length, you could very well undo the rest of his shirt buttons along with his belt while he tore off your flimsy excuse of an outfit.

But it was at that moment that one of your biggest fears suddenly turned into your salvation.

Your set’s finale was nigh and you knew just the song to play.

Grabbing hold of your mic, you smiled cheerfully at the crowd while you lifted your hand in a wave. “Ministry, you were so lovely! Thank you for having me! While this is my last song–” You giggled hearing the medley of disappointed ‘awws’, placing your hand over your heart, “It’s okay! You still have an incredible set to enjoy by this distinguished gentleman beside me!”

As tempting as it was to pull your friend into a side hug, you also valued his safety with your boyfriend still very much in the audience and still very much casting his gaze right in your direction.

And it was because Carlos was still hanging out with the clubbers that you were certain that victory was within reach.

“For now though–!” You winked at the crowd.

At Carlos.

Your smile turned into a smirk.

“–this one goes out to the Smooth Operator himself, Mr. Carlos Sainz!”

A look of shock flashed over his handsome features as a familiar jazzy opener began to slither out the speakers, all while the crowd rejoiced and cheered at getting to bear witness to such a rare opportunity with the illustrious driver.

Full attention was on him yet again, whether by starstruck eyes or phone cameras set to record.

The perfect opportunity for you to make your getaway.

Your friend looked confused as you stepped away from the booth while you gestured for him to take your place, your phone in hand. However, wanting to not linger any longer than necessary, you quickly brought your lips to his ear as you declared, “I’ll tell you later! Just keep my USB safe for me, okay?”

Though still curious, your friend only smiled and offered you a thumbs up with a mouthed “You got it!” before he assumed your previous position in preparation for his set.

You didn’t waste a second longer.

Daring to not look back, you quickly seized the chance to head backstage, smiling in thanks to security for granting you entry even as your heart fluttered from an adrenaline far different than the one you usually experienced while performing.

The energy thrumming in your veins was manic, on-edge, skittish.

“Smooth Operator” clocked in at 4 minutes and 11 seconds.

That was barely enough time for you to rush by your dressing room to grab your bag, let alone to grab a towel to wipe at your sweat-slicked skin. And with London being especially busy and bustling on a night like this, even if you were able to call up a taxi, it wasn’t as if one was going to instantly pop up at the back of the club to whisk you back to your hotel. If anything, by the time your getaway car arrived, there was a good chance that Carlos would already be awaiting for you there–

You brought your hand up to your eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply as you continued to stride on ahead, doing your best to calm your nerves by basking in the cool air-conditioned air circulating throughout the backstage hallway.

Now was not the time to get caught up in the possibilities.

Action and instinct were key when pressed for time, and so you made your way to your dressing room all while you brought out your phone to begin ordering up for a ride back to your hotel. As you sought out your purse, you could still hear the muffled thrumming beat of “Smooth Operator” with the crowd enthusiastically shouting out the lyrics together as one.

With your boyfriend likely remaining captive by the adoring public, you felt more assured as you slung your bag’s strap over your shoulder while stepping back out into the hallway backstage.

And it was as you were about to finally confirm your pick-up that some commotion from the entryway had you pause in surprise.

Especially as you heard a very familiar voice blare out,

“–mate, please, I need to see her!”

You felt hollow.

Your breath was caught in your throat.

As though time itself had frozen, you slowly turned your head towards the end of the hallway to lead back out to Ministry’s dancefloor.

You saw the back of the same security guard who previously granted you entry, his hands raised and seemingly gesturing for someone to calm down.

There was no need to guess identities.

After all, it was just so very much like Carlos to be absolutely hellbent on seeing you, public attention be damned.

As this occurred, the crowd boomed with cheers as the final seconds of “Smooth Operator” played out while your friend encouraged everyone to give you a round of applause for such a lively set.

His turn to perform had come at last.

All while your lover was very much adamantly trying to gain access to you.

The thought of the very same phones being trained on Carlos while he danced now being locked on him being denied entry by a security guard was at the forefront of your mind, as was the idea of your boyfriend making a scene becoming a significant distraction for your friend’s imminent performance.

Daring to risk scandal for your attention whilst in the midst of the season–just how much had your boyfriend spiraled down and unraveled since the two of you fought?

You found yourself shivering again.

Not from the air conditioning.

Rather, it was seeing a man so decorated and acclaimed as him willingly debase himself in his desperate pining for you.

A sigh escaped your lips while you slipped your phone away into your purse as you made your way over towards the backstage entrance. Once you were within earshot, you cleared your throat before you called out with a pristine, “Excuse me!”

The sound of your voice had Carlos perking up akin to that of a dog being called forth by its master, his eyes gleaming as he eagerly peered over the security guard’s shoulder to get a better look at you.

Your eyes were trained on the security guard however, a sheepish smile forming on your lips as you remarked, “So sorry about all this!” Your index finger pointed right towards Carlos’s direction just before you gestured back to yourself.

“He’s with me.”

Even you couldn’t resist from casting a glance at his face at that moment.

What you saw was nothing short of rapturous relief.

While the security guard grunted out an “Understood” in response, he still looked towards Carlos warily as he stepped aside to let him enter.

“Don’t matter if yer Prince bloody Harry, mate. If I say ya’ can’t pass, then ya’ can’t pass–”

Yet the man’s words fell on deaf ears, especially with Carlos immediately sprinting past to tail after you as you had already spun on your heel to begin walking back down the hallway.

With his refined athleticism, he was already just a breath behind you in mere seconds, following every step you made until you both were in your dressing room.

While you strode on ahead, he was of mind to lock the door upon shutting it closed behind him. When he turned around to face you, it was at that moment that you were able to finally get a much better, much clearer look at him, without the smoky murk of the dancefloor getting in the way.

As the ceiling lights cast down on him from above, you could see both soft relief and utter exhaustion on his face. His post-race fatigue was a sight you were familiar with, yet with the newfound darkened circles that were under his eyes, it only declared how little sleep he was likely getting during your time apart.

Yet as he quickly approached where you stood, each step that closed the distance between you both seemed to bring more life to his handsome features. His lips parted, his voice tender as he called out your name with adoring reverence.

“Thanks for the save back there, my love.”

He opened and held his arms out, a welcoming beckon for you to enter his embrace.

However, you merely held your ground, your tone exasperated in response. “Well, I couldn’t really sit by and watch you make headlines for a stupid reason.”

His head tilted to the side, his expression both confused and crestfallen. “What stupid reason?”

Your arms folded over your chest as you cast your gaze down to the floor.

“Getting into a fight with security while you have hundreds of people and their phones on you–I’m not worth you making yourself look like an absolute fool–”

You suddenly found yourself being drawn forward and pressed against solid, sturdy muscle while a pair of arms wrapped themselves securely around your body.

“What would be so stupid about everyone finally seeing how much of a fool I am for you, cariño?!”

The tremble in Carlos’s voice had your head quickly snapping up in shock.

Just as instantaneous were his hands moving to cup your cheeks, soothing warmth emanating from his calloused skin.

He sought out your gaze, conviction etched clearly on his features while the look in his dark brown eyes was fiery with passion. “I’d rather the whole world laughs at me than ever make you sad again. The time spent apart from you after what happened–” His voice trailed off as he closed his eyes with a shake of his head, pain latching onto every one of his words. “–it killed me more than you could imagine.”

As his eyelids fluttered open, he peered at and spoke to you with utter remorse. “I’m sorry, amor, I’m so sorry.”

Your instincts cried for you to soothe him, the sound of his wounded tone clawing at your heart. Yet before you were moved to speak, your mind drew forth the memories of all the times he offered his meager apologies every time he said he couldn’t come see you perform. This led to your quiet and strained response of, “It’s words versus action though.”

Yet he took this with stride as he nodded. “And I understand that, I really do–” On his last word, he then closed the gap between your faces, his forehead pressing gingerly against yours, his lips mere millimeters away from your own while he affirmed with iron-clad resolve, “–I never want to make you feel like I’m belittling your career ever again so from now on, I swear this to you: as your lover, I’m going to be better in supporting you. If I have to get my own private jet, if I have to drive over by myself, if I have to run on foot–whatever needs to be done to see you perform, I will do it.”

His expression was serious and determined, akin to the very same look he conveyed whenever he slipped his helmet on before taking to the track.

The way he spoke left absolutely no room for doubt, his voice heartfelt and sincere.

A smile soon found its way to your face as your heart began to swell with joyous relief.

“I’m holding you to it then, Carlos.”

One moment, you watched sheer bliss sweep over his face.

Immediately after, his mouth was on yours for a kiss you both had been craving like nothing else. The warmth and the taste of his lips were divine, all sensations you yearned for during your time spent in separation.

When the two of you parted for air, he winked at you as he teased, “Actually hold me as well too while you’re at it, yeah?”

Giggling, you obliged him by finally returning his embrace, your head resting on his chest while you pressed your body tightly against his with affection. “As you wish.”

While your action was innocent in intention, Carlos still found himself shuddering as he felt the sweet and soft pressure of your breasts, all while he basked in the familiar sensation of your embrace along with the smell of your perfume mingling with your natural scent. Not to mention, he was still fully riled up from seeing you bounce around in your revealing attire earlier.

And as he felt your cheek affectionately nuzzle against the exposed expanse of his chest, he knew you were in a similar state.

One of his hands was already hovering by the hem of your shorts as he suddenly cleared his throat. “Now, with that said–”

He held your attention once more as you peered up at him curiously. His thumb returned to your cheek, stroking over your skin reverently as he elaborated further, his voice sounding much huskier than before. “I know this doesn’t excuse what I did to you before though, so right here, right now–” The tender touches on your cheek stopped to swipe over your bottom lip instead. “–I’m gonna make it up to you, okay princessa?”

“Right here…?” You repeated curiously, only for a gasp to escape you as you felt one of his big hands proceed to grope your ass through your shorts. As a moan tumbled from your lips, you gazed at him with wide and astonished eyes. “But shouldn’t you be resting? You literally raced and flew all the way out from Imola today!”

One of his eyebrows raised while he cheekily grinned.

“What about it?”

Before you could respond, Carlos took the chance to steal another kiss, making sure to tenderly nip at your bottom lip before he went on to sweetly clarify, “I’m finally reunited with the love of my life after a very stupid mistake I made. I need to make sure this isn’t a dream. Besides…”

The fingers of one hand moved to cup your chin as he smirked. “Don’t think I missed the way you bit your lip when my shirt opened, amor.” At your immediate flustered expression, he chuckled and decorated your face with even more kisses while he continued to indulge himself with feeling up your ass.

“And believe me, the feeling is very much the same–” To emphasize his words, he pressed you even closer to him while he slowly ground his hips against yours, making sure you would feel every inch of his stiffening bulge through his pants. His lips journeyed over to your ear, his voice gruff as he spoke, “You can feel it, yeah?”

“I–” You moaned once more as your head fell back in pleasure, reaching for his shoulders to better steady yourself as your knees buckled. “I do…”

Seeing your neck exposed further, he didn’t hesitate to seize the chance to bring his lips right at its juncture, eager to start marking up your skin with kisses and bites. His voice deepening with desire, he rasped out, “I don’t think I can wait for a hotel. Seeing you dance around on stage in this little outfit all night long–” The hand he had on your ass moved to start cupping and fondling your breasts while also playing with the waistband of your top. “–you already know fully well that I don’t have that kind of patience, amor.”

“And neither do I.”

It was Carlos’s turn to be surprised as you took lead in guiding him over to a nearby couch. As soon as your back fell back against the plush cushions, the two of you quickly descended into maddening passion together.

A flurry of hot open-mouthed kisses, clothes left ripped and yanked by impatient hands, repressed affection finally spilling forth–primal instinct took the forefront over thought, especially in the case of Carlos, who was able to strip you down fully first.

The moment he flung what was left of your now torn panties over his shoulder, he was eagerly diving his head right in-between your thighs, the stubbled bristles of his facial hair scratching your skin while he noisily feasted on your cunt, his tongue hungrily swiping up and down your drooling entrance. Intoxicated by your taste, possessed by the cries of his name from your lips, encouraged by the tugs of your fingers in his hair, he kept on and on with savoring you fully until you were left writhing and squealing with the bubbling rise and harsh crash of your orgasm.

Prideful satisfaction was blatant on his face as he withdrew away to sit back on his ankles, his chin gleaming with the mix of your essence and his saliva. While his tongue swiped over his smirking lips, he gazed down at you with smouldering passion as he admired the sight of you catching your breath–the hot heat in your cheeks, the precious way you were sprawled out on the couch, and the temptatious glisten of your drooling core.

While he knew you wanted nothing more than to return the favor, he simply couldn’t wait to truly reunite with you.

With his shirt, pants, and belt flung in some random corner of the dressing room, all that was left was for him to remove his black boxer briefs.

He was fully nude soon after.

Catching the way your eyes immediately focused on the sight of his thick, throbbing cock, he let out a chuckle as he happily situated himself right between your thighs once again.

Yet rather than toy with you with his tongue, it was dragging the blunt sticky tip of his dick against your core. Hissing in pleasure from your sticky heat, he eyed you directly as he purred out, “Poor gatita–must have been so starved for milk while I’ve been away, eh?”

“Don’t tease, don’t tease, Carlos, please.”

The sweet breathlessness of your voice, the needy lift of your hips, the pleading look in your eyes.

He damn near orgasmed right then and there.

“Wouldn’t even think of it,” he reassured with a wink as one hand reached for your hip while the other lined his cock right up against the entrance of your cunt. “Because from now on, I’m going to feed you–”

As he spoke, he slotted his dick right inside of you in one full motion. Hearing you squeal out his name while the scorching tight heat of your core enveloped his cock nearly had him forget his train of thought. But as you reached for his shoulders to pull him down for a kiss and to have something for your hands to latch onto once he began to quickly work his thrusts into a relentless and punishing rhythm, he proceeded on, his words mashed against your lips.

“–dance for you–”

He seized hold of your breast with one hand, squeezing the soft plushness as his fingers pinched at your nipples, recalling earlier how the sight of them almost popping out of your top had him drooling from the corner of the club he was watching you perform from.

“–travel for you–”

The exquisite pain of your manicured nails clawing at his shoulders, the fierce embrace of your legs around his hips, the sweet vice of your cunt continuing to milk his cock–he was driven further and further into madness and was determined to drag you down with him.

“–fuck you–”

While he wanted nothing more than to kiss you further, his mouth parted from yours as he looked right into your eyes, his expression ravenous yet loving as he declared from the bottom of his heart,

“–and love you endlessly.”

You smiled up at him adoringly, with that very same affection matched in the way you dreamily replied with, “And it’s the same from me to you, Carlos.”

He grinned and happily brought his head down for his lips to rejoin yours for another kiss, continuing to pound away into you until he was flooding you full with his cum–the first of many orgasms to be messily shared on this night alone.

And truly, if there was anything that you had come to realize on this particular evening, from having once wanted nothing to do with your boyfriend to now feeling like the luckiest woman around to receive his love, it was that this man was just too goddamn smooth for his own good.

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literally have not known peace WHATSOEVER the moment i laid eyes on this video 😭😭

but thank you all for taking the time to read this piece of the pancake prince !!! 🥰🥰🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️ it always means a lot !!!

in the meantime i may or may not have added a couple hints on what my next f1 piece will be 🙆‍♀️🤫 expect another update soon enough !!!

other than that my inbox is open for requests so please feel free to drop some by--more info can be found on my pinned !!! 🙋‍♀️💌 thanks again !!!

#carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #cs55 x reader #cs55 x you #cs55 smut #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 smut #f1 smut #formula one smut #formula one x you #formula one x reader #reader insert

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sunkissedmayu · 2 months ago

Text

You were always a high achiever student. Never have you ever had a grade below 95% in every subject. You actively participate in every activity there is in your school, may it be sports or academics. But suddenly, your dad made the decision to leave your current city and live in Gotham. He got a job there which paid higher than his current salary and offers much better workloads. Your father contemplated accepting this offer. Of course, Gotham is known to have crimes everywhere. He couldn't afford his only daughter to be exposed to this kind of environment, but he doesn't want you to live in poverty either. Thus, he accepted this offer.

Things haven't been good, especially your first week there. You find it hard to adapt to the new community, as people seem to be used in this kind of situation. Even though you mustered all your confidence, you're still hesitant. You tried to brush all your worries since you never had any difficulties in studying. You thought you'd ace in this school as well, like in your former school. But boy, you were wrong. Yes, you're still a top student but you're always second to him, Damian Wayne.

You only know a few things about your rival. First, he's the son of the richest man in Gotham, Bruce Wayne. Second, he also transferred to this school a few months before you. Third, he's very competitive but shows zero and no interest in everyone. Because of this, you see him as a bratty nepo-baby who looks down on everyone. You don't hate him, nor despise him. You just find him very annoying. Yes, he doesn't show any interest in everyone but you were an exception. Every time you and him take an exam, you'll race with him on who's faster on answering the exam. The challenge doesn't end there, you guys would have to wait for results and brag to each other on who got the highest score. When he wins in these challenges, he'd normally wear a smug smile and tease you.

Damian considers you as his academic rival, and you also thought the same. Until one day...

You were spending your time in the library, trying to figure out how to solve this specific question about geometry. He saw you and walked his pace towards you. You saw him and greeted him by putting your gaze on him for a while and back to your scattered studying material on the book. He sat in front of you, then he initiated a talk. "Hey, having a hard time?" he asked as he snooped on the questions you've been working on for hours. You nodded your head, still fixating on the question.

"Do you perhaps need help?" you put down your book, surprised. Damian Wayne never offered someone his help, as he finds it bothering. People would line up just to have them taught by him but he refused every one of them, thinking it was a bother. You didn't answer him, as his question caught you off guard but he explained how to answer the question very fluently. His voice was not annoying, as his normal, smug voice would talk to you every after exams. He was just explaining this mathematical problem but hell, you're not used to it. His actions weren't normally like this, but weirdly, you find this fluttering.

The moment he finished his explanation, you asked him a question. "Why did you help me?" You gave him a very confused face as you're still confused on why he did that. He flashed a smile, not the usual, smug smile but a soft smile. "Just trying to be good, is there anything wrong?"

You shook your head and lowered it, feeling embarrassed about your question. But you know yourself that you were not only embarrassed, you were flattered. God, you thought. You might have started to have feelings for your academic rival, the notorious Damian Wayne.

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@sunkissedmayu's thoughts 💭 noticed how most of my works are about Damian? very demure, very mindful. lol, i might become a Damian Wayne connoisseur at this point.　　　　　　໒꒰ ‎˃ࡇ˂ ꒱১

#damian wayne #damian al ghul #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #batfam #batfam x reader #dc universe #dcu #dc comics #fanfic #im just a girl #i love damian wayne #fanfic x reader

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criminalamnesia · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty like the sun

warnings: reader described as having long, silver hair; no use of y/n; female!reader; Targaryen!reader; sneaking around with harwin; little sliver of angst but that’s it; fluff; not proofread sorry

summary: you spend a morning with harwin.

author’s note: I miss harwin strong. that is all.

The soft, early morning light poked through the thin fabric covering your window. You stirred in bed, eyes scrunching tighter together as you attempted to will yourself back asleep.

“Good morning,” Harwin’s chest rumbled with the sound of his voice. He was almost whispering, as if afraid to spook you. One of his hands trailed up your back, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin.

“Mhm,” you grumbled, refusing to open your eyes. You snuggled closer to his side, your head laid right over his heart. The reassuring rhythm of its beat brought a small smile to your lips.

“What time is it?” You asked after a moment of comfortable silence, your eyes still closed. You could feel the heat of the sun now, its rays more intense as it rose in the sky.

“Almost time for me to go,” he replied. The hand trailing up your spine moved to rest in your hair, his fingers lightly scratching at your scalp. His free hand moved over your body, looping around you and pulling you impossibly closer.

It was always like this in the mornings you spent together. Hushed words and warm touches. The two of you tangled together, holding each other as close as possible. This time was sacred to the both of you. It was stolen from the rest of the Keep, something just for the two of you to share, damning the rest of them.

“Do you have to?” You asked, but you already knew the answer as you finally opened your eyes. You tilted your head back to look up at your lover. His eyes met yours, and he gave a small smile as he nodded.

“You know I do, Princess. I cannot be caught in here, your father would have my head.”

You rolled your eyes as you turned your head to plant a kiss to his sternum. He hummed in contentment.

“You underestimate my power in this keep, Ser. At most, my father would have your finger. Maybe a hand, if it were a bad day for the King,” you grinned as you teased him, meeting his gaze once more.

It was Harwin’s turn to roll his eyes now. His fingers dug deeper into your scalp, massaging the skin there. You groaned and swatted his hand away, knowing his actions would put you back to sleep.

As much as you wanted to succumb to the welcoming embrace of slumber once more, you knew you’d regret it. Harwin wouldn’t want to wake you, and so he’d slip from the room quietly, depriving you of the chance to wish his farewell. You despised it when he did that– and he knew as much, yet he still tried.

He told you once that he hated seeing the look in your eyes as he left, and that’s why he tried to lull you back to sleep. He didn’t want to watch the sadness and anger seep into your expression as it did every time he snuck away.

It wasn’t sadness and anger aimed towards him, of course. It was at this whole situation– the fact that you two had to hide your affections. The King had made it quite clear you were to remain untouched and unmarried until your sister, Rhaenyra, found a match.

You disobeyed his wishes, but what the King didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him– at least that’s what you believed.

“Where do they have you stationed today?” You questioned the man below you as you turned your gaze to the villainous window that disturbed the peace the night gave both of you. “Guarding ‘Nyra again?”

“Guarding you, actually,” he said, and you sighed.

Having your lover guard you was a double-edged sword. You were with him all day, but you were not allowed to truly be with him. It was almost torture, how the man you loved was right beside you and you couldn’t touch him. You couldn’t even speak to him the way you wanted. You had to remain proper, as did he, and you had to keep up this carefully constructed facade of a princess and her loyal guard.

“You do not wish to be accompanied by me today?” He asked, and you finally pushed yourself up, your hand resting on his chest to support yourself.

The arm he had looped around you fell, his grip now at your waist. His thumb caressed the skin there as he watched your face with concern. His other hand remained in your hair, moving to brush strands of silver from your eyes.

“You know that is not the issue,” you told him.

“Sometimes it is the issue. Remember just a fortnight ago, when you asked for another guard just because I slipped out the night before?”

“You did not tell me you had to go,” you said as you shuffled over to the other side of the bed. His hands retracted from your body to let you move.

“I was not aware I needed to ask your permission to get a glass of water,” he retorted, and you scoffed.

“The last time you snuck out during the night, it was because you were sent to guard my sister for her two week journey to see whoever that lord was. Lannister? Baratheon? I do not recall— but it does not matter. You did not tell me you were leaving!”

“Love–” he began, but you spoke again.

“No, I know, Harwin. You did not know either. I am not trying to fight,” you reached a hand towards him, which he clasped in one of his own. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you smiled.

“I just worry for you. I fear one day you will slip out before I can say goodbye, and I will never see you again.”

Harwin frowned, his eyes trained on you as he gave your hand a small squeeze. You inhaled deeply. “I do not want to keep sneaking around,” you admitted.

“Nor do I, but–” he began.

“But we must,” you finished his sentence with a sigh. “Just until my sister finally meets her match. Which will probably be after we are all dead.”

Harwin laughed and used his grip on your hand to pull you back into him. You gave a sound of surprise as you fell onto his chest, both his hands snaking around your body to keep you glued to him.

“The Princess will wed soon, my love. Your father will make sure of it. And if not, then I am sure you will make sure of it. Gods help Rhaenyra if it gets to that point. You are quite scary when you are angry.”

“As scary as Daemon?” You questioned, your eyebrows raised as you glanced up at Harwin. A teasing grin painted your lips.

“Oh, much scarier. The Rogue Prince wishes he was as terrifying as you.”

“Careful, Ser,” you giggled. “My uncle would feed you to Caraxes for such an insult.”

“It would be an honorable death, dying to defend my Princess.”

You shuffled upwards so that your face was right above his. Your hair fell around the both of you, creating another barrier the sun streaming through the window fought to break through.

“You are insufferable,” you whispered, your nose brushing his.

“Am I?” He asked with a grin.

“Mhm,” you hummed in answer before lowering your lips to his.

The kiss lasted a few wonderful, peaceful seconds before a sobering knock sounded at the door.

“Princess!” Your lady-in-waiting called from behind the door, her knock becoming louder as she tried to rouse you. Unbeknownst to her, you were very awake at the moment.

Your eyes widened as you looked down at your lover who was very much naked, very much still in your bed, and very much late to his post.

“Princess, are you awake? Are you in there? I don’t see Ser Harwin out here. Are you alright?” You could hear panic begin to sneak into the woman’s tone. You knew how it looked to her– a locked door, no guard, and a silent princess? She probably thought you were dead.

You pulled yourself from Harwin’s embrace once more and hurried out of bed, reaching for the night clothes you had discarded the night before. Harwin followed suit in rushing from bed. He began grabbing at clothes and armor, trying to be silent but quick as he redressed.

“I’m awake!” You shouted to your lady-in-waiting as you ran a hand through your hair. You turned to watch as Harwin gave up on buttoning his shirt and began gathering his armor in his hands.

“You have got to go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“I am trying! This damn armor–” he groaned as he nearly dropped his metal chest plate. You cringed as you watched his barely catch it, releasing a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. That sound would’ve had your lady busting down your door in an instant.

“Princess, are you alright in there?” You heard your lady ask as the door knob jiggled.

“Quite!” You yelled back, your pitch rising in panic. You rushed to Harwin’s side and began snatching up the remaining pieces of his armor. You ushered him to the secret passage in your room, prying open the door and all but pushing him inside. “Just looking for something!”

You pushed the armor in your hands into Harwin’s, who was looking at you with a wide grin.

“What?” You asked incredulously, curious as to how he could be smiling at being nearly caught.

“Looking a little disheveled, Princess.”

“Gods, go!” You scolded him with no real bite to your words. You shoved at his broad shoulders, careful not to disturb the mountain of metal in his arms.

He gave a quiet laugh as he swiftly ducked down to kiss your forehead. “See you soon, Princess.”

With that, he disappeared down the dark passageway and you all but slammed the door closed. You quickly concealed it once more before smoothing down your nightdress, taking a deep breath, and opening the door for your lady-in-waiting.

“Gods, I thought you were being killed!” She cried, her voice shrill as she surged into the room.

You gave a breathless laugh as you shut the door behind her, noticing a forgotten trinket of Harwin’s laying on the stone floor. You swiftly kicked it under your wardrobe before your lady turned to face you.

“Where was Ser Harwin? He was not by your door,” she questioned as she began to assess your appearance.

“Oh, I sent him to fetch me a glass of water well before you arrived. He never returned. I suppose he was roped into something more important.”

“Hm,” your lady hummed, unconvinced, but she didn’t press the topic further.

The two of you fell into comfortable silence as you went through your routine of dressing.

Finally, as your lady finished clasping a ruby necklace around your neck, she cleared her throat to speak.

“Did he at least take all his armor with him this time?”

Your cheeks turned a deep red, and your lady laughed.

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gothicxreylover · 3 months ago

Note

Sorry, but the widow scenario/headcanons with the Hashira were really good, so I wonder if you could do it with the uppermoons as well, when you're able though? I don't know why I like the trope of a widow, who can't let go of their first love, and now the new lover who's trying to get the widow's attention to them.

𝕬 𝖒𝔬𝖚𝔯𝖓𝔦𝖓𝔤 𝔴𝖎𝔡𝖔𝔴

This has been sitting here for a while lol sorry for taking long I hope you enjoy!

Douma

For Douma, your grief was a mystery that he couldn’t understand, but he found it utterly fascinating. He was used to people worshipping him, hanging onto his every word, or even fearing him. But your heart was caught somewhere he couldn’t reach—a place he couldn’t control. And it infuriated him in ways he couldn’t admit.

“Why so glum, my little flower?” he’d chirp, leaning in far too close as his colorful fan danced idly in his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about them. They’re not here anymore, you know.”

His words carried an edge, cloaked by his usual cheerful tone. Douma’s solution to your grief was to smother you with his attention, constantly distracting you from your thoughts. He’d sit you on his lap, brush your hair, and chatter endlessly about anything and everything—anything to keep your mind from wandering back to the person you’d lost.

When his attempts at distraction failed, his tone would shift. “You’re wasting your tears on someone who doesn’t matter anymore,” he said one evening, his usual smile faltering. “Don’t you see? I’m right here. I can give you everything they couldn’t.”

But no matter how much he tried to replace them, your heart remained elsewhere. That realization drove him to dangerous extremes, and his jealousy turned into obsession. He would destroy anything—any memory, any object—that connected you to the person you lost, all while insisting he was doing it for your own good.

Akaza

Akaza’s obsession was driven by his need to protect you, but your grief left him feeling helpless in a way he despised. He had strength, power, and the ability to destroy anyone who posed a threat to you. But he couldn’t fight the ghost of the person you loved.

“You deserve better,” he told you one night, his fists clenched at his sides. “They couldn’t protect you, but I can. I’ll never let anything hurt you again.”

Akaza’s frustration grew with each passing day. He hated seeing you sad, but what made it worse was the way your sadness wasn’t for him. No matter how much he tried to comfort you, your thoughts always drifted back to someone who wasn’t there.

One day, as you sat quietly, gazing at the ring you still wore, Akaza crouched in front of you. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he asked, his voice softer now. “They wouldn’t want you to be like this. They’d want you to be happy.”

But what Akaza didn’t say—what he couldn’t admit—was that he wanted to be the one to make you happy. He wanted you to see him, to love him the way you loved them. And every time you looked at him with sadness instead of love, it chipped away at his patience.

Kokushibo

Kokushibo’s obsession was a quiet, simmering thing. He didn’t express his emotions openly, but the intensity of his feelings was unmistakable in the way his golden eyes followed your every move.

At first, he told himself that your grief didn’t concern him. You were alive, here in the present, and the person you mourned was not. Yet, no matter how much he tried to push those thoughts aside, he couldn’t ignore the way your sorrow consumed you.

“You cling to the past,” Kokushibo said one night, his deep voice breaking the heavy silence. “It will not bring them back.”

His words were blunt, but they carried a weight that spoke of his own regrets. Kokushibo saw too much of himself in you—clinging to memories, unable to let go of what was lost. It made him want to keep you close, to pull you away from the pain that haunted you.

Though he rarely spoke of your grief, Kokushibo’s actions spoke louder than words. He would destroy anything that reminded you of your past love, believing that cutting away the ties to your old life would free you from your sorrow. But his protectiveness often felt like a prison, leaving you isolated and unable to mourn in peace.

Hantengu Clones

The Hantengu clones each reacted to your grief in their own distinct ways, their fragmented personalities pulling you in different directions as they fought for your attention.

• Sekido was furious at your inability to move on. “Why do you keep thinking about them?” he snarled, his tone laced with irritation. “They’re gone. Forget them already!” His anger wasn’t born from malice, but from jealousy. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else occupying your heart.

• Aizetsu was the complete opposite, his sadness mirroring your own. “It hurts to see you like this,” he murmured, his voice heavy with melancholy. “I just… I want you to feel better. But I don’t know how to help.” His gentle demeanor made him the easiest to be around, but his sorrow often made your grief feel even heavier.

• Karaku tried to distract you with flirtation and charm, his mischievous grin never far from his face. “Come on, sweetheart,” he said, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Why waste time crying when you’ve got me here to cheer you up?”

• Urogi took a more chaotic approach, laughing off your sadness and trying to drag you into his games. “Stop being so serious all the time!” he exclaimed, swooping down beside you. “You’ll forget about them faster if you start having fun with me!”

Their conflicting approaches left you overwhelmed, each clone vying for your attention in their own obsessive way.

Gyutaro and Daki (Platonic for Daki’s pov)

For Daki, your grief was something she couldn’t understand but desperately wanted to fix. She’d cling to you like a child, her possessiveness growing with each passing day.

“You don’t need them,” she said one evening, her voice trembling with emotion. “I’ll be your best friend now. I’ll be everything you need!”

Daki loved the way you treated her with kindness and patience, something she rarely experienced. But her jealousy over your lost friend burned brightly, and she hated that she couldn’t completely fill the void in your heart.

Gyutaro, on the other hand, took a harsher approach. “Why are you still crying over them?” he asked gruffly. “They’re not coming back. You’ve got us now. That’s all that matters.”

Though his words were blunt, Gyutaro’s actions spoke of a quiet protectiveness. He’d keep a watchful eye on you, ensuring no one else could hurt you again. But his possessiveness, combined with Daki’s need for constant attention, left little room for you to grieve in peace.

Nakime

Nakime’s obsession was silent and calculating. She rarely spoke, but her control over the Infinity Castle gave her complete power over your surroundings.

Whenever she sensed your thoughts drifting back to your lost love, she would subtly manipulate the castle, leading you away from places where you could dwell on your memories.

“You will not find solace in the past,” she said one day, her voice calm but unyielding. “This is your home now.”

Nakime believed that if she controlled your environment, she could control your heart. She removed any reminders of your old life, leaving you surrounded only by the cold, shifting walls of the castle. Her obsession was suffocating in its subtlety, a quiet force that slowly stripped away your ability to mourn.

Muzan Kibutsuji

Muzan was enraged by your inability to let go of your past love. To him, your grief was a weakness—one that tarnished the perfection he sought to create.

“You are mine now,” he said coldly, his crimson eyes narrowing. “There is no need to dwell on something as insignificant as the past.”

Muzan’s solution to your grief was absolute control. He would strip away every trace of your old life, erasing any reminders of the person you had loved. But even as he tightened his grip on you, he couldn’t completely extinguish the memory of your spouse.

“You will forget them,” he commanded one night, his voice low and dangerous. “You belong to me, and me alone.”

But no matter how much he tried to control you, Muzan’s frustration only grew. His obsession wasn’t just about owning you—it was about breaking the part of you that still loved someone else.

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bosbas · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 11: tell me I've got it wrong somehow

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 4.3k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, small part of the dialogue in French, idiots in love!!, mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), mentions of blood

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

A/N: FINALLY. except not really. oops!

June 30, 1816 – If last night’s ball was any indication, it seems Lady Y/N has lost interest in finding a husband this season. More than a few whispers indicate that the Montclairs will journey to Spain to find better prospects for their youngest daughter. Let this be a call to action to the eligible bachelors of the ton so that they might consider being more… enticing suitors for our beloved Y/N. All this, of course, is to ensure that the Montclairs do not flee to the Spanish sun at the conclusion of the season. If nothing else, the Montclairs must stay so we can avoid losing Lady Y/N’s much-needed sense of style.

Colin stared in disbelief at Lady Whistledown’s column, letting it fall from his hands as he leaned back in his bed. If you were going to Spain at the end of the season anyway, why was he still here? He’d much rather be as far away as possible from anything that even remotely reminded him of you.

Unfortunately, Daphne had given him some sort of misguided hope that staying in England would magically make you like him. Or perhaps make you hate him a little less. But it was becoming increasingly apparent that this was not the case.

He wasn’t exactly sure what had changed from one day to the next, but you could barely look at him now. After your promenade, Colin thought you’d finally put your differences aside, and he could, at some level, be grateful to Lord Barlow for that, even if the man had acted completely indecently.

But the truce didn’t last.

Just three days ago, he’d run into you on the way to your father’s study to discuss pearl diving, and his heart had nearly skipped a beat when he saw you. You looked beautiful as ever, of course, and he was just staring at you dumbly, wanting to take in as much of you as possible.

You’d been humming as you walked down the hallway, smiling softly to yourself as you passed by a particularly large flower arrangement you had most likely received from a suitor. At that moment, Colin was sure that if you ever looked at him like that he would never recover.

Colin had tried to call out to you. Maybe if you were out of sight of the rest of the ton, you’d be more willing to speak with him. But the words had died in his throat as you had looked up and spotted him, just staring at you, across the room.

Your eyes had widened, and your demeanor had instantly changed. A switch from serene to shaken so sudden that Colin had barely had time to react before you had clutched your skirts and ducked into the nearest room.

And though Colin had traveled halfway across the globe largely on his own, he had never felt so far from someone.

Even now, in his room, away from Montclair House, he couldn’t help the deep shame that washed over him as he recalled how immediately you had rushed to get away from him. And Colin still had no idea why.

That was the worst part of it all. If he only knew what the problem was, he’d fix it. He’d do anything to be with you. Colin had had more than his fair share of escapades during his time abroad, but nothing even came close to the feeling he got when he was around you. The only person he’d known to dislike him. It was a cruel twist of fate, and he’d think it was funny if he didn’t physically ache with the need to be near you.

The irony of the situation was not lost on Colin. The more he was consumed by you, the more you pulled away. He’d been doing his best to avoid social functions for this very reason, but he feared he would not be able to do the same tonight.

“Colin?” called Violet, peeking her head through his door. “Is everything alright? You look a bit…”

“I’m fine,” insisted Colin, wiping his slightly damp eyes and sniffing as he sat up.

“Anthony and Kate are hosting a ball tonight,” said Violet carefully. Colin’s recent absence from balls had not escaped her notice, but as much as she felt for her obviously lovesick son, he was not excused from familial duties.

“Yes, I’m aware.”

“And you will be in attendance.”

Colin groaned. “Must I really be there? It’s one ball!”

“Actually, it’s been something like fifteen balls,” Violet shot back, unimpressed. “And I have graciously allowed you to be absent from them, but you will not miss your brother’s ball. You are still a Bridgerton. We do not miss family events.”

Sensing he didn’t quite have a choice, Colin sighed, “Very well, then. Could I at least continue sulking before we go?”

Violet laughed softly and gave her son a sympathetic smile. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Being in love. Even if it’s a complicated situation such as this one.”

“I’m not in love!” lied Colin. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not love.”

Violet raised her eyebrows pointedly but said nothing, closing the door quietly as she left her son’s room.

Once he was alone again, Colin let out a frustrated groan and rubbed his temples. You would more than likely be in attendance tonight, and he needed to prevent what had happened in your hallway from happening again. He didn’t think he could bear having you practically sprinting away from him as soon as you saw him again.

Colin would simply have to stay out of sight of you. It was the only way he could stay at the ball. He didn’t ever want to look into your eyes and see the disdain and hurt that he saw three days ago. So, he decided he would be a wallflower tonight. Anything to keep you from seeing him. He would need to exercise a gargantuan amount of self-control to stay away from you when being near was the one thing he wanted, but the pained look in your eyes that haunted his sleep was enough to keep him in check.

---

Viscount Bridgerton’s ball was proving to be a supremely amusing affair. Your mother had decided that Louis should start looking for a wife, never mind that he was only two-and-twenty, and you were thoroughly enjoying watching how he was passed around from eligible lady to eligible lady.

After nearly an hour of dancing and politely chatting, your brother finally stumbled over to where you were standing. Of course, you couldn’t help but snicker as he muttered something or other about needing a drink.

“Tais-toi,” muttered Louis, crossing his arms over his chest as he crossed his breath (Shut up). “Maman veut aussi que tu danses avec quelqu'un” (Mother also wants you to dance with someone).

You turned to him, eyes wide. “Vraiment?” (Really?).

“Oui, c'est un autre duc,” Louis nodded and smiled evilly, gesturing toward where your mother was speaking to someone who looked to be at least Philippe’s age, if not older (Yes, it’s another duke).

“Non, mais je peux pas,” you whined (No, but I can’t). You thought your mother had given up on finding you a husband for this season, but you supposed she couldn’t help herself if it was a duke. Even if he were a prince, you were not so sure that you would want to speak with him.

Nigel Berbrooke and Lord Barlow, and you supposed Colin Bridgerton, too, had significantly dampened your excitement for the season. At this point, you were just looking forward to going to Paris for a few months once the season was officially over and trying to find a husband again in Spain next year.

But you didn’t even want to think about that. It felt like you were preparing for a prison sentence. One last year of traveling before you were limited to the confines of your future husband’s home with no escape other than your own mind. It was a chilling thought, and you were trying your hardest to avoid thinking about it. However, having your mother chatting you up to a duke was complicating that a bit.

Standing beside you, Louis was feeling quite annoyed after one grueling evening of speaking to unmarried ladies and their mamas. However, he knew that you had experienced about fifty times that many. So, taking pity on you, he leaned down and whispered, “Va dans le jardin, vite. Avant qu'elle ne revienne” (Go to the gardens, quick. Before she comes back).

Your eyes looked to the open doors leading to the gardens, and you decided the slightly nippy air was worth it if you could escape your mother and the unnamed duke. There were enough people outside that there was no risk of being caught in a compromising position, but it was far away enough from the ballroom that you knew your mother wouldn’t be able to find you immediately.

Flashing your brother a grateful smile and squeezing his arm, you practically ran toward the exit, wanting to get away as soon as possible. Once you were outside, you maneuvered yourself so you were hidden behind a fairly large plant, but still had a view of the ballroom through the window.

As Louis had predicted, your mother had come back to where you had been standing, duke in tow. She gave Louis a questioning look when she didn’t see you, and he simply shrugged, pointing to the other side of the ballroom. You sighed in relief, silently thanking your brother and promising to stop being quite so irritating toward him.

“Y/N?” you heard a voice say behind you.

Your stomach dropped. You turned around slowly, growing nervous as Lord Barlow came into your line of vision.

“Lord Barlow,” you said, feigning politeness in an attempt to avoid a scene. Your last interaction with him had not gone so smoothly, and you were afraid of what he would do now.

“So it is you,” said Arthur Barlow, his face contorting into an ugly sneer. He had never sounded so chilling when you were courting him, but you supposed at that time you hadn’t done yet anything to make him act so abrasive.

You cleared your throat nervously, looking around to see who else was nearby. But it seemed that everyone was too intrigued by this confrontation to put a stop to it. You internally cursed the duke for showing up at the exact moment that you wanted to be inconspicuous, but you smiled politely anyway.

“I hope you’re doing well,” you said awkwardly, not quite sure what else to say.

It seemed like the right thing at the moment, seeing as how no one, not even Lady Whistledown, knew what he’d been doing since he proposed to you. However, Barlow’s quickly narrowing eyes clued you in to the fact that it had actually been the exact wrong thing to say.

“You hope I’ve been doing well? You hope? I’m sure you do, Lady Montclair,” he said sarcastically, fury evident in his voice. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to learn that the Barringtons are positively drowning in debt. Sorry, were drowning in debt, since I had to pay off all of their debts once I was forced to marry into the family. And now I’m in financial ruin, all thanks to you. You, Y/N, have brought on the downfall of the Duke of Monmouth.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t the least bit pleased that things had turned out poorly for Arthur Barlow. But more than satisfaction, all you felt was indignation as you looked at the pathetic man in front of you.

“I believe it was your decision alone to go outside the night of the Bridgerton ball, Lord Barlow,” you said, trying to sound as biting as possible. “It is a shame that your hubris has ruined your dukedom, but kindly leave me out of it.”

Barlow’s frown deepened and his eyes narrowed further, if that was even possible, as he practically shook out of barely contained anger.

“You harlot!” he screamed at you, raising his hand and reaching out to you.

“Barlow, you will cease at once!” came a commanding voice next to you.

You turned to see Colin Bridgerton at your side, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach that you felt every time you saw him. But now was not the time to get distracted by inconsequential feelings.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to do this,” you urged Colin. “It’s not worth it. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

And surprisingly, you meant what you said. As much as you disliked Colin Bridgerton, you had no desire to see him hurt, even less so because of you. In some twisted way, you cared about this man. Far more than you cared about Lord Barlow, whom you had been ready to marry at one point in time. And more than anything it made you impossibly frustrated.

Upon hearing Colin, Arthur scoffed and turned to face him. “I see you’re happy to be next in line for my cast-offs, Bridgerton. But let me tell you, she’s far too uptight, that one. Won’t even put out when you tell her to.”

Immediately, your spine stiffened, anticipation tingling through your nerves as you sensed the mounting tension in the air. Colin growled lowly, clenching his fists and stepping closer to Lord Barlow. Yet, just as it seemed he might strike, the duke swiftly sidestepped, causing the Bridgerton to stumble.

Your lips parted in a silent scream as you saw Lord Barlow aim his fist at Colin. You watched, as if in slow motion, how Arthur’s knuckles made contact with Colin’s nose, and you felt tears welling in your eyes as he fell to his knees, his head thrown back with the force of the duke’s punch.

“Colin!” you screamed, finally finding your voice. You could barely breathe, feeling like your heart was beating out of your chest.

You rushed to his side, only vaguely registering that Lord Barlow was being roughly escorted out of the garden and likely out of the ball as well. Your eyes were glued to Colin, who was groaning in discomfort and bleeding profusely out of his nose.

“Colin, are you alright?” you gasped, kneeling beside him, and clutching his arms as you choked back sobs, your heart still beating out of your chest. “You shouldn’t have done that,” you scolded, tears running down your face as you found yourself unable to be civil with him even when he was kneeling on the ground with a bloody– and most likely broken– nose.

Colin, who was clutching his nose and groaning in pain, shot you an amused look. “Do I at least get some credit for trying to defend your honor?”

He sniffed, wiping away some of the blood with his hand, and reached for a handkerchief by his breast pocket. You were staring at him, horrified, as the blood kept streaming and he winced in pain. You had stopped sobbing now, but a steady stream of tears remained on your face as the panic mounted in you.

“Colin, you shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered again, trying and failing to sound upset with him as you instinctively reached out to wipe some blood off his cheek. You hiccupped as you reached over, trembling slightly as you did, but his hand caught yours before it could touch his face.

He suddenly smiled wide, and you rather thought he looked a bit deranged. There was blood on his face and his hands and he looked more than a little banged up, but he was still smiling widely at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Can you say that again?” he asked, his eyes searching yours.

“Say what? That you shouldn’t have done that?” you sniffled, wanting to cross your arms over your chest in annoyance but not wanting to let go of his hand.

“No, the part before that,” he said, smiling cheekily as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“How are you smiling after someone broke your nose?” you said, growing irritated with him but not quite letting go of his hand yet. “You could have gotten seriously hurt. That was a stupid thing to do, Colin-”

“Yes, that. Again,” he pleaded, the yearning evident on his softly smiling face as he grabbed his handkerchief with his free hand, holding it up to stop the flow of blood from his nose.

“Colin-”

“Yes, that’s it. Just say that again.”

You shot him a confused look. “Colin?”

Is that what he wanted you to say? His name?

“Yes?” he pressed, smiling wide at you. “Can you say that again, please?”

“Again? Colin, why-”

“You hadn’t ever called me Colin before,” he said, looking at you wistfully. “I like how it sounds when you say it.”

“Oh,” you gasped softly. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Bridgerton, I forgot myself. It-”

“No, please,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t bear to have you call me Mr. Bridgerton one more time.”

You averted your gaze and bit your lip, suddenly feeling very conflicted. This was Colin Bridgerton. This was the man who had jumped at the first opportunity to compromise you once he heard you didn’t put out for Lord Barlow. You could not be on a first-name basis with him.

“Y/N,” he said softly, cautiously.

And suddenly you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. Maybe you could allow yourself to be on a first-name basis with him. Maybe it felt too good to hear him say your name. Maybe you weren’t strong enough to hold him at arm’s length, and a half arm’s length would have to do.

“Colin.”

“I didn’t give him access to that terrace, you know,” Colin spoke, a hint of indignation lacing his words.

You nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. “I know. I was looking for anyone to blame when Lord Barlow was the only one who wronged me. Your mother told me he forced the door open.”

“I could never have done that to you, it would’ve been unseemly” Colin insisted, gripping your hand tighter.

But you froze. Couldn’t he have done that to you? Based on what you knew about him, he certainly could have. But it was so difficult to parse the man who had just now defended you against Lord Barlow, who was sitting on the ground next to you and holding your hand, with the man who had wanted to continue Nigel Berbrooke’s disgusting conversation at the Danbury ball.

Feeling you stiffen, Colin’s heart clenched. This couldn’t be happening again. What had he done wrong this time? He was here, on the ground, literally bleeding for you, and you still had something against him.

“Please talk to me,” Colin begged, suddenly feeling very desperate to fix whatever was happening between you once and for all. “If you want me never to speak to you again, I will do that, but I must know. I must know why you hate me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, retracting your hand from Colin’s and placing it on your lap as you looked anywhere except for him.

“I don’t hate you-” you started weakly, but he was having none of it.

“Oh, spare me. I am not a fool. You hated me from the moment you saw me in Lady Danbury’s ballroom, even before our rivalry properly began.”

You bit your lip anxiously. If you were to tell Colin why you truly disliked him, and he was to take it in bad faith, you would be finished. Colin could tell everyone that you had been unchaperoned in the presence of two men of the ton, and given his place in society, no one would hesitate to believe him.

But it was exhausting. Hating him was far more difficult than anything you’d ever done, and you weren’t particularly eager to keep doing it. Perhaps this was the only way to let go, and trusting Colin right now would make things infinitely easier.

You finally met his gaze, feeling his blue eyes boring into yours. There was no anger in his expression, just a look of concern, with a hint of something else you couldn’t recognize.

Resigned, you sighed. “I saw you with Nigel Berbrooke at the Danbury ball before you even asked me to dance,” you explained.

A look of realization came over Colin’s face, and his lips, caked in dried blood, parted to make a perfect circle.

“Oh heavens,” he said, sounding terribly embarrassed. “I apologize that you had to see that. Honestly, I would feel worse about what happened, but he really deserved it.”

“I beg your pardon?” you said, frowning. “He really deserved what?”

Colin’s eyebrows furrowed and he sent you a questioning look. “You saw me break his nose in the gardens, right? That’s what you’re talking about? I promise I’m not usually a violent man, though I’m not particularly proving my point tonight. I apologize if I scared you off; it was not my greatest moment, but I do stand by my actions.”

“You- You broke his nose?” you said, your confusion growing as you tried to piece together what Colin was telling you.

“Well, yes. That’s why he left town for a month. His face looked something awful, and he was too embarrassed to say why. Though that won’t be a problem for me, since everyone already saw my nose get broken anyway,” he shrugged, wincing as he lightly touched his nose. “That’s what you were referring to, no?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no,” you said, mortified as the realization dawned on you.

“What?” he pressed. “What is it?”

“I didn’t see any of that. I heard you talking with Mr. Berbrooke in the hall. He said that you could have any girl you wanted and that you just had to look for one with a big dowry and good hips. And then you asked to continue the conversation outside. And I thought- I just thought-”

Colin’s eyes widened. “And you thought I actually wanted to continue the conversation.”

You nodded, barely able to meet his eyes because you were so embarrassed. “But I suppose you just went out to the gardens to... Oh, no. And when he came back into town, he told me the only reason you were- the only reason anyone was pursuing me was because they wanted what I wouldn’t give Lord Barlow.”

“Y/N, I would never-” Colin started, fury in his voice, but he was too mortified to continue.

All this time, you had every right to resent him, and yet he stooped to childish antics to spite you. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t actually said those things; they were completely vile, and Colin understood that Nigel implicating him in that kind of talk would have been a glaring warning for you.

The incessant teasing, snide remarks, and rude comments were a grave misjudgment. How could he have treated you so poorly? How could he have treated anyone so poorly, for that matter? He had presented the most unbearable side of himself, sometimes descending into cruelty, all because he felt insecure. You had a valid reason for your hatred, and his behavior was nothing but a misguided attempt to mask his own insecurities.

What a complete mess.

“I’m sorry,” he said, resigned.

You shook your head quickly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I-I misunderstood and let that guide my actions. The fault is all mine.”

“Except it really isn’t, is it?” he said, reaching for your hand again, desperate to have contact with you again.

But you drew your hand back, too embarrassed that you had rushed to assume the worst so quickly. How differently the season would have gone if you hadn’t spent half the time trying to get under Colin’s skin.

“Either way, I’m so sorry,” you said, mortified as you saw just how much blood was on his face.

Colin had been willing to put himself in harm’s way to protect you and your honor. And you had spent months thinking he was one of the men who had no respect for you. You shook your head in disbelief, chiding yourself for your headstrong ways.

“I’m sorry, too. You had a real reason to dislike me, and I was just being childish,” Colin said, his eyes dropping to your mouth as you anxiously bit your lip.

If he wasn’t caked in dried blood, he might have tried to kiss you right now. He knew it would probably hurt like the devil, given that his nose was most likely broken, but he would have been willing to endure that just to feel your lips on his. But he couldn’t do it. Colin could still taste the bitter metallic taste in his mouth, and he knew he was in no state to be kissing anyone.

You nodded at Colin, fixing a stray strand of hair that had fallen out of place. “Can we be friends now, then?” you asked, half-smiling. “And not just as a favor to Eloise.”

Instantly, Colin’s heart dropped. He scolded himself for thinking you could ever consider him as a suitor. It was a well-known fact that you were looking for a titled gentleman with a large fortune. And, as a third son, he had neither of those things.

“Yes, friends,” he smiled wide, not wanting to fracture the fragile peace he had been waiting for since the moment he met you.

Friends was alright. Colin could do friends. He’d take anything at this point.

But as you turned away from him to see Anthony rushing over to scold his brother for starting a fight in his home and nearly giving Kate a heart attack, Colin felt his smile falter.

Oh heavens, he really did love you.

—

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slttygeto · 7 months ago

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༉‧₊˚. PLAYLIST

༉‧₊˚. episode 06: temptation's tangle

preview: ". . . “What’s the occasion?” “Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin. “What? You don’t trust me?” “Exactly, I don’t.” “Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” . ."

content warning: suggestive content, abandonment issues, hanma is a d!ck but what's new.

word count: 5,4k

➜ ┊: @softshuji @mitsuwuyaa @kariatenoh @reiners-milkbiddies @citrusteaa @bejeweled-night-33

➜ MASTERLIST

➜ note: yet another chapter woohoo!! this one's a bit exciting for me because we get to see new characters appearing in the reader's life. and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

༉‧₊˚. reblog + comment!

Saturdays were for resets. You didn’t like to go out that much during the weekends, so it was a hassle to reject your co-worker’s offer to go out for drinks the night after a long week of exhausting and intense work. You would much rather stay inside, go over your to-do list and look around your place to see which area needed the most cleaning. The kitchen was definitely a mess, but your room? Good lord. Your room looked as though a hurricane had passed and devoured it before spitting it out.

No matter how much you tried to be organized, you always found yourself with a mess on the floor, half of your makeup on your vanity and the other half in the bathroom along with a bunch of shoes lined up next to your entrance. You puff out some air as you stand in the middle of your room.

“I really need to get my shit together.” Have you said these words before? Absolutely.

Will you probably say them again in two weeks? Oh, of course.

But right now, you need a distraction from what happened two days ago–something that quiets down the voice that keeps nagging you to grab your phone and check if he sent a message, if something had changed. You recognized that you were being a walking contradiction–between promising yourself to be mad at him and loathing him only a week ago, to suddenly wishing he was in your bedroom, pinning you to your mattress and drilling his cock into you–yeah, you were a mess.

It’s not like you didn’t have a vibrator, or hands! Your hands did an amazing job at fulfilling your needs, you knew where to touch yourself, how to stroke your pussy in a way that had your back arching and your eyes rolling to the back of your head. A sigh would then escape your lips, a needy one because nothing felt as amazing as a mindblowing orgasm after teasing yourself for so long. Your hips would then buck up, and your hand is rubbing very messily at your poor clit before you cum with a loud and long moan–

“Shuji–!”

You snap out of it so fast, jolting up away from your bed and blinking at your reflection in the mirror.

What the fuck?

A grown ass woman–one who gets action…not that often, but still enough to fulfill her needs, daydreaming about a man whom she slept with once? It doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it does, you're too deep in denial to admit that the person you've been longing for is the same man who shaped parts of your teenage years, even if it was only for a short time.

The heavy sigh that leaves you is so loud that it bounces off the walls of your empty apartment. So vacant, but it reminds you how Hanma’s short yet dominating presence was enough to make it feel…less hollow. You hated how he filled the void that you had been long wanting to replace, whether it be by decorating your space with greenery or going on pottery dates with friends or even getting your cat more toys just to watch him run around the apartment–the loneliness was hard to swallow. You despised the feeling, it gripped you by the throat and forced you to remember the framed pictures sitting on the shelf above the TV. Friends, family, co-workers–you were made of pieces of them, each having given you a memory to cling onto and use it as a lifeline.

What do you do when that lifeline is barely hanging by a thread?

Your eyes land on the singular picture that rests on your nightstand, and your frown deepens for a moment as realization hits you. The two people in this picture were supposed to stay with you for a long time, your protectors as they liked to call themselves. You purse your lips and inhale deeply. The bitter aftertaste sitting on your tongue is hard to wash down.

You were perfectly fine being shaped by bits of everyone you'd ever met, but weren’t your brothers meant to be there for life?

“Here, keep this on you all the time.” You stare at the shiny knife as your oldest brother places it on your nightstand, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and you’re forced to close your book.

“A knife?”

“Yeah, it’s for your safety.”

“Ran, why would I need to carry a knife with me?”

“You never know,” you’re not sure if that’s meant to comfort you—probably not.

Ran Haitani is very proud of the fact that he had adopted you. Technically, his parents did–but he hated them, and they abandoned you a long time ago, so it was he who adopted you. He remembers you being a tiny baby in your mother’s arms the day that she had picked you up from the adoption center, said something about how she was so excited for this new chapter of her life, and both Ran and Rindou were excited–over the moon to be welcoming a little sister. At 6 and 5 years old, they didn’t know what blood related meant– it never mattered to them in the first place even as they got older. You were a Haitani, their precious little sister, and that meant the whole world to them.

However, the bond grew a little bit stronger after your parents left. Your father was the first to abandon the family, you were 5, Ran was 10 and Rindou’s 9th birthday was approaching. You remember it being a cold day–it wasn’t gloomy outside or anything, but as you sat in the middle of the living room with your brothers by your side, the apartment felt a bit bigger, emptier. A child is fragile, anything can affect them if not dealt with properly–the absence of your father was the first time you had to experience your ‘big feelings’ as Ran liked to describe them. You don’t know what holding back tears is, so you cry as you hug your knees to your chest and let Rindou soothe your back with a gentle hand. It’s a small gesture, but enough to anchor your stuttering breaths.

“It’s okay,” Rindou says as you sniffle. When you look at him, you see that his eyes are glossed over with something–tears. He blinks them away as soon as he catches you staring at him. “It’s not like we need him, right?”

“Of course not,” Ran speaks confidently, standing over you and Rindou with a superhero-like stance. “As long as you’ve got me, nothing will happen to you!”

“And me!” Upon seeing his older brother act like a superhero, Rindou quickly jumps up and stands next to him. It’s adorable, it gives you hope–your little child body, so overwhelmed with emotion and having to deal with the abandonment of a parent temporarily distracted by the two boys standing in front of you.

“I’m Sailor Uranus,” Ran extends one arm outward with his fingers splayed, while his other arm is bent at his side. He shares a look with Rindou, trying to mask his wobbling lips. Rindou averts his gaze, cheeks set ablaze with overwhelming emotion. Sadness, embarrassment mixed with determination to make you, his little sister, feel better even for a few moments.

“And I’m Sailor Neptune!” Rindou extends his arm forward, with his other hand pointing slightly upward towards you. Your heart swells with emotion, and you bring your arm to your face to wipe your tears.

“I..I’m Sailor Moon!” You join in weakly, and for a moment—(just a small one), everything seems okay. You have your brothers with you, recreating your favorite characters’ pose and trying to cheer you up. Just for a split second, you’re distracted from the ache that invades your heart and spreads all over your chest.

But distractions are bad. Like a bandage on a leaking dam, offering a false sense of control while the real flood builds behind them.

You had always looked up to your mother. It’s natural for a child to have an innocent fascination with one particular parent—after your father left, your mother had become everything to you. Now that you look back at it, it was definitely fear of being separated from her. Losing her so unexpectedly like you did with your father. You would sit in the living room waiting for her to come back from work, whilst Ran and Rindou were outside playing and didn’t necessarily mind the absence of their mother. They were older after all, and perhaps were able to see her for who she truly was earlier than you did.

“She’s not going to come back on time,” Ran announces from behind you. You don’t move, still looking out of the window and waiting for her silhouette to appear. “You have to eat.”

“No,” you don’t mean for your voice to crack, but alas you’re a child and you cannot control your emotions. You wear your heart on your sleeve and the hurt you’re feeling from your mother’s repetitive tardiness is very apparent. “I’m not hungry.”

As if to mock you, your stomach growls the moment you say it. And Ran sighs behind you before approaching you.

“No–” you push him away when he wraps his hand around your arm. “I won’t eat–!”

“Rindou hasn’t eaten all day,” Ran’s voice is stern. It momentarily distracts you from your stubbornness and your bottom lip starts wobbling. “He doesn’t want to eat without you—so please,” his voice is now barely above a whisper and your eyes meet his own lavender ones. The sob you choke out is raw, painful–you can’t hold it back any longer and you fall forward, attaching yourself onto your older brother. The taller boy holds you, rubbing soothing circles on your back as he heaves out a sigh.

No child deserves to go through this.

A few months later, you get accustomed to seeing your mother less often. By the age of 10, Ran and Rindou had managed to make a name for themselves around the area–the rulers of Roppongi. You choose to ignore the events that led them in juvenile detention, you don’t necessarily associate that with great memories but life feels… simple.

Whilst Ran brings the food and takes care of anything money related, Rindou is the one who is in tune with your emotional needs. He holds you in his arms when you are sad and caresses your head when you’re upset after a particularly nasty fight with Ran. Rindou reminds you of the importance of the rules that they had given you when they started ruling Roppongi, that the way you dress is very important as a Haitani—their little sister.

You carried that with you through adulthood.

The walls of your apartment have heard you cry for them, felt your sobs and longing. It’s strange how your apartment only knows of their existence through pictures, like ghosts they've never seen in person. Like hearing the echo of laughter in an empty room—faint and distant, yet it lingers, reminding you of the voices that once filled your childhood.

You are filled with sadness and melancholy and longing—you feel ready to burst like a heavy rain cloud but somehow, you find the strength to hold it all in whilst darkening everything beneath you. Whilst the past few years have been one of the most important ones in your life, you can't deny that with every person you encountered, the shell guarding your heart grew tougher. Like armor forged over time.

It’s useless to grieve the past, you can’t let it distract you from the task at hand, so you grab your vacuum cleaner and get to work.

Hopefully you’re done before sunset.

–

Ding dong

The digital clock on your microwave flashes 8:12PM in red, bold colors. You did your usual cleaning, showered and dried your hair, planned an outfit for Monday and were checking on some work you needed to do before the week starts. Who would visit you at this time of the day?

None of your co-workers had texted you all day, and you were hoping that they weren’t here to try to convince you to go out. Saying no to them the first time was hard as it is.

“Shoooo,” you tell your cat as he races you to the front door. “Go away, you can’t get out,” you mumble to your fur companion as you place him on his cat tree and watch as he digs his claws into the plush fabric before running away to your room.

Ding–ding ding ding!

“Coming! I’m coming,” you rush to unlock the door, forgetting to check through the peephole. As you open it, you get a whiff of a familiar perfume and a tall figure is standing a little too close to you.

“Wha–”

“I got dinner.”

Of course it would be him.

He stands before you in all his glory. Brand new suit, messy hair (he must’ve had a long day) and shoes that definitely looked less shinier than usual. You try not to stare too hard at his body, fight the carnal urge that tells you to keep your eyes a little longer on his thighs and lean against the door frame with your arms crossed over your chest.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Being hungry?” You glare at his sarcastic comment and Hanma shrugs his shoulders with an amused grin.

“What? You don’t trust me?”

“Exactly, I don’t.”

“Well just to remind you, we agreed to be fuck buddies so–”

“For fuck’s sake–” you yank him inside your apartment and Hanma almost lets out a giggle at how flustered you looked. “You need to stop saying shit like that in my hallway.”

“What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“People could hear you,” you shoot him a glare as you walk away from him. Hanma doesn’t miss the chance of checking out your ass in your tight booty shorts. He licks his lips and follows right behind you, plastic bags rustling as he places the food on the kitchen counter.

“What did you get anyway?” You ask as you sit back on the kitchen table, nose shoved deep in your laptop as you continue your work. You’re far too focused on the words in front of you to notice that Hanma had quieted down and was now fully staring at you–taking the sight of you and placing it at the forefront of his mind.

Despite having seen you naked before, Shuji thinks that you look the most attractive like this. Like the adult women that you matured into. He can’t remember the last time he saw you this concentrated—(was it when he snuck into your room as teenagers? He found you sitting at your desk, nose buried in your homework that you didn’t even notice him opening your window after he had climbed your fire escape). He can’t say he doesn’t like it. The smallest details stood out to the same man who claims to be nonchalant about everything else–the slight pout and frown to your lips, eyebrows furrowing and eyes darting across the screen, pausing briefly to take in each and every word. You wear glasses now.

(And glasses look good on you, they make your nose look cute).

A sigh escapes your lips and as you inhale, you finally catch his stare. Intense like a spotlight, analyzing your every move and pinning you in place.

For obvious reasons, you feel tense under the weight of his golden eyes fixed on you. Exposed, stripped of any secrets you hadn’t even dared to write down in your diary. Hanma’s eyes had the effect of unraveling every guarded truth, as if his intense gaze alone could coax confessions from the deepest corners of your soul.

Like how you touch yourself to the thought of him.

You avert your gaze towards the bag, growing uncomfortable with the suffocating silence.

“So?”

“Ramen.” You almost deadpan at the man. It’s fascinating how he can shift the tension in the room just by spilling out a few words.

“You bought ramen??”

“Am I not allowed to?” He pushes himself off of the kitchen counter and starts walking towards you.

“When you said I got dinner, I thought you meant a meal,” you take off your glasses and place them on the table before staring at the bag tiredly. “That’s an unhealthy meal, Hanma.”

“That’s what I get for dinner, usually.”

“You’ve got money.”

“Your point?”

“Go to restaurants??” you say in disbelief and Hanma shrugs his shoulders as he stands next to you, enjoying the obvious height difference. One that reminds him of how big his hands looked on your thighs that night.

“Tooooo much work,” he drags out his words before stretching his arms over his head. The action elicits a yawn out of his lips and you scoff before grabbing the bag and emptying its content on the table. “Besides, what’s so bad about having instant ramen?”

“It’s unhealthy,” you reply flatly, reaching for the electric kettle. You fill it up with water before pressing the ‘on’ button, the action coming to you so quickly and naturally that it makes Hanma raise an eyebrow.

“Hey, you turned it on a little too fast for someone who thinks instant ramen is unhealthy,”

“Because this is my kitchen?” The reply you give is laced with sarcasm, absolutely done with whatever he has to say and all Hanma does is just stand back and grin. How fun.

“Right, of course,” you avert your gaze the moment Hanma’s fingers wrap around his tie, loosening it to allow himself to breathe a little–feel comfortable in an apartment that has already welcomed him twice already. Does he remember the layout? Not exactly. However, his brain is able to trace the map from your kitchen to your bedroom like a professional cartographer. The detail was etched in their mind, like a name carved into stone.

So he makes himself comfortable, he walks past you and into the living room and you watch as he sits on your couch and stares around your decorated space.

“Is that a cat tree?” he points at the item sitting near the window.

“Mmmh,” you hum in response, pouring water into the instant ramen cups. “Why?”

“ ‘s just that I’ve never seen your cat,” he looks around, trying to figure out where your fur companion might be. “But I see signs of that fucker everywhere.”

“Don’t call my cat a fucker.” You almost hiss and it catches Hanma off guard. Not that it was the first time you ever spoke to him in that tone, but you must be very attached to your cat.

“Whew,” he whistles as he raises his arms in the air.. “My bad. Didn’t know you were that kind of person.”

Your eye twitches.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you pause on your way to the living room, the cups of ramen were starting to burn your hands but you could care less.

“Y’know, getting all defensive over an animal?”

“You mean have empathy and emotional connection?”

“Emotional connection with a cat?” Hanma braces himself forward with his elbows on his knees. His side profile comes into view, but he quickly turns to face you and he sees the way you were slowly losing your patience. “That shit is for people who are lonely.”

It is eerily silent after that. For a good five seconds, Hanma doesn’t seem to understand why you give no reply nor do you make a move. He looks away, pats his pocket to find his phone and turns to look at you. You are still glued to your spot.

You hope he doesn't hear the sound of your heart breaking, or notice the way your body instantly deflates.

“It must be.” Your reply is devoid of any emotion. You look away from Hanma’s intense gaze, suddenly growing uncomfortable under all of the attention he was giving you. As you take a seat on the couch (while maintaining a good distance between you and the tall man), you push Hanma’s cup towards him.

“Here.”

“Thank you.”

Hanma doesn’t feel comfortable with the silence. It bothers him that he doesn’t.

You try not to pay attention to him, but it turns out that it’s a hard task given how huge the man is. He spreads his legs on your couch, leaving you almost no space, so you have to nudge his thigh with your knee.

“Move, you’re taking up too much space.” You’re still avoiding his gaze, and Hanma’s finger twitches as he reaches for his ramen cup.

“I’m a tall man, doll.”

“Don’t care, you’re sitting on my couch.” You say it with a hint of childishness, your tone laced with annoyance.

Hanma chooses to let it slide and slightly closes his legs, allowing you more space on your small couch. However, your behavior still doesn’t sit right with him. You're not truly aware of your surroundings, even though it may seem like you are—one moment you’re holding your chopsticks, the next you’re looking for the remote control. Hanma watches as you jab at the noodles with your chopsticks, seemingly unfazed by the steam rising from the cup.

“It’s hot.”

Be careful.

“Ah!” you hold a hand to your mouth, your chopsticks falling on the surface of your coffee table. Your eyes are pricking with tears, and you fan your mouth whilst internally cursing yourself for not paying attention.

“Told you it’s hot,” he sounds unbothered—perhaps a little bored, but still reaches for your face to grab it. You don’t fight back despite the urge to get away from him—from his touch. His rough hand holds your jaw like a rag doll and you force yourself to open your eyes. “Open up.” He takes notice of your swollen lips, then you stick out your tongue and it’s reddened.

In that moment, you realize there's no space left between the two of you. Any distance you tried to maintain with the tall man has vanished, and you let it happen—you let yourself forget why you're mad at him, giving your mind a break from the constant tension around him.

Everything quiets down, you instantly find yourself lost in the same gaze you had been trying long and hard to avoid. You feel hot—you are sure Hanma’s body feels like a furnace against your skin. However, like two flames flickering inches apart, you both burn with the same heat but never quite touch in a way that would have you melting like a candle.

It’s a continuous tug of war inside your brain as you hold his gaze, your pulse quickening with each subconscious attempt at moving closer to him—even by an inch. Technically, the two of you were now fuckbuddies, two friends who fuck when the other is free or one is feeling like it. There were no strings attached, no responsibilities, no—

“Ya hungry?” Hanma’s voice is a few octaves deeper. You feel a chill run down your spine before making a poor attempt at shaking your head whilst he’s still holding your jaw.

You feel a pair of lips against yours, and you take it as a response to what you had told him.

Hanma’s kisses are rough—he pushes his entire body on top of yours as he kisses you, trapping you beneath him.

You’re glad the cushions beneath you are soft, because the way he pins you down is anything but.

Dominating and playful, he moves his lips against yours in such a dizzying manner that you have to tap his shoulder to ask him for air. But even when he pulls away from your lips to allow you oxygen, his lips land on another patch of skin—your cheek, your jaw, his teeth nibble at your earlobe and he can feel his cock throb when you buck up your hips.

“Impatient, aren’t we?”

He presses his forehead against yours and you grow annoyed. Frustration washes over you as you realize you crave more of him, even though you know you shouldn't allow the man so close or invade your personal space. Yet, here you are, yielding beneath him. His kisses are like a wildfire in your veins—once it ignites, it spreads uncontrollably, and no matter how dangerous, you can’t help but feed the flames.

And feed the flames, you do.

Hanma has never seen you so eager, so needy—sure he’s fucked you before, he’s nestled his cock so deep within the snug walls of your pussy but this–

This was different.

You’re craving him—his lips against yours like a lifeline. Not once has he seen your body move so desperately against his own whilst your clothes are still on. It makes the muscles of his face twitch.

Smirking, he grabs the back of your thigh and pushes it up to your chest before leaning down—face dangerously close to yours. He doesn’t say anything, eyes scanning your expression—the twitch to your lips, the slight furrow to your eyebrows and the sigh that escapes through your nose from how needy you are. You throw your head back against the couch, nudging Hanma’s butt with your free foot.

“You’re staring.”

“Am I?” His tone, his words—they make the butterflies in your stomach erupt like wildfire. You can only afford to whine in response, clearly struggling to take his teasing. He is so dominant— to the point where submitting to him was the only choice you had. As you lie beneath him, Hanma is like a cat playing with a string, effortlessly toying with your patience and leaving you both frustrated and horny.

Incredibly horny.

“Shuji,” you reach your hands towards his face, holding it and brushing your thumbs against his cheeks. You brush your nose against his, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so softly—so gently that it makes him chuckle.

“You’re gentle with it,” he breathes hotly against your lips, digging his fingers into your skin to show you how rough he likes it. You’re about to push him off of you, straddle his lap and show him that you can be rough with it. It feels like a treat you’re craving, it’s attached to a string and Hanma keeps pulling it away from you every time you’re about to have it—

A loud moan escapes your lips when he’s back on you so suddenly, not giving you enough time to breathe or ground yourself. Gripping his shoulders, Hanma enjoys the feeling of your nails digging into his skin—it ignites his body on fire and heightens his senses. The tall man grows more aware of your body temperature, of the vanilla body lotion you had freshly applied onto your skin or how you seem to be letting your nails grow longer—he’s locked in.

“Oh doll,” he breathes out against your lips as he pulls away. You’re about to moan in response, rile him up further until he’s snatching your clothes off your skin and dig his cock deep into your insides–

“Fuck!” Hanma shouts–no, he screams out of nowhere and is pushing his body off of you. “What the fuck?!”

“What–what?! What’s wrong?” you’re confused, a little startled as you push yourself up with your elbows.

“Motherfucker–” you hear hissing from the end of the couch, and you look behind Hanma to find your cat sinking his claws into his back. “Let go of me!”

“Calm down!” you try to separate the two, get your cat off the couch and Hanma to stop reaching for the back of his blouse.

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down when this little fucker–I will fucking–”

“I said calm down.” you repeat sternly. Your hands reach for your cat’s paws, although he hisses at you, you still understand that it’s a normal reaction for him. Standing up, you grab your fur companion who tries to wriggle out of your hold and he comes face to face with a furious Hanma.

Your cat hisses again.

“The fuck is his problem?”

“He’s not used to strangers,” you caress your pet’s head, sensing that he’s on high alert. “Let alone men.”

“Your cat hates men?”

Your face twists. “My cat isn’t a misandrist.” You roll your eyes at him. “He just… doesn’t appreciate men.”

“Fancy fucking word–”

“Anyway, I’m taking him to his room.”

“This fucker has a room?”

“Technically it’s my office.”

Hanma watches as you walk away with the fur companion who meows very loudly, making his dislike towards the man very clear. He hears you try to shush the pet, promise it good food and treats as long as he behaves and if Hanma didn’t know any better, he would think you were crazy.

Maybe you were. He would never show that much patience towards an animal.

But now he is able to process what has happened. Assessing the situation, the realization that he got cockblocked by a damn cat hits him like a truck and he sits there, dumbfounded and half offended.

Cockblocked by a fucking cat.

You walk back into the living room, looking a bit embarrassed and Hanma takes it that you had come to the same conclusion as him. You stand next to the couch, awkward and stiff and your hands are fiddling with the fabric of your shorts before you open your mouth.

“I-”

“Don’t even.”

Hearing his bored tone, you deflate and sigh before plopping next to him on the couch. You were now drier than the Sahara and he didn’t seem interested in rearranging your insides as he was a few moments ago.

Well, you still have your food to finish.

“Want me to heat up your food again?”

“Mmm, sure.”

—

Hanma plans to leave as soon as he’s done eating. It’s almost hilarious the way he grabs his jacket the moment he slurps the final noodle into his mouth and you don’t have it in you to ask him where he’s going.

After all, it wasn’t part of your agreement. Despite the fact that you didn’t even fuck properly tonight, you still knew that his business wasn’t yours to know and his presence was always going to be temporary.

“The elevator’s working by the way,” you are throwing the cups of Ramen in the trash when you suddenly speak up and Hanma has to pause his movements.

“They fixed it?”

“After paying a huge sum of money, yeah they did.”

“That’s good.”

“Mmmhm.” Cold and distant, this is how you want to present yourself to the same man who has no problem taking your heart in his hands and shattering it into small pieces.

“Next time I come over, I hope that fucker doesn’t dig his nails into my ass next.” Next time.

“I’ll make sure we fuck on my bed then.” You say playfully, bringing the glass of water to your lips and Hanma watches as you maintain eye contact the whole time.

“Oh yeah? Already planning the next time we gonna fuck?”

You shrug your shoulders. “You were good. I’d be a fool if I said I didn’t want it again.”

Hanma chuckles, offering his signature smirk with a tilt to his head. “Good? Not great, or fucking amazing?”

“Good.” You put emphasis on the word, but the tall man notices how you avoid his eyes and it’s an indirect confession.

“Sounds like you want me to change your mind.” Squeezing your thighs at the sound of his deep voice, you almost moan in relief when you see him start to take off his jacket.

Fucking finally.

“Maybe I do.”

—

The November cold was unbearable. The man shivers inside his own car and his hand reaches towards the heater to turn it on. He doesn’t understand why he is here, it was too late for him to be parked under a residential building and he sure hopes he doesn’t look suspicious with the way he keeps checking for the door.

“Come on, come on…”

Almost on cue, the door opens and a tall figure walks out. Hair messed up, clothes half adjusted and a cigarette hanging off his lips. It was none other than Hanma Shuji. The man watches as the criminal checks his phone for a good ten seconds before blowing out smoke, his chest stutters a bit as he scoffs and he shoves the device into his pocket before walking towards his car.

Hanma doesn’t seem to notice the unknown car and the mysterious man is grateful for that. He wants to avoid problems.

However, how was he going to explain his sudden visit at 11:30PM?

He shouldn’t…or perhaps he should.

When you open the door, your eyes are heavy with sleep and the man can’t help but stare at the love bites littering your neck.

“Hey, missed me?”

Your eyes widen and you instinctively open the door wider.

“Chifuyu.”

༉‧₊˚. interested in commissioning me? if not, leave a ko-fi!

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

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thatfrailsoul · 9 months ago

Text

– Parts of me that I seek in you

tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, 3 )

When we strive to connect, to know someone... There are many different reasons for which our heart calls more for one person than the other. The appearance, the ways, their mind or heart, their actions or deepest goals and desires... No matter what it is, there is always that something that makes them shine in the darkness that surrounds us. And, very often, that something is the same as the one that we lost, can't find in ourselves... So we desperately look for it in others. With such perseverance and obsessive need that, sometimes, we allow it to lead us to those that perhaps, at the end, we would've preferred to not meet.

So what is it? What you miss in yourself but so desperately need? Where or when did you lose it? And where and how can you finally find that missing piece?

Slow down for a moment. Breathe. Listen to your heart, to its rhythm. Allow it to speak to you. And choose the image that seems so familiar, so similar to what you feel. Remembering that, whatever the message might be, you are free to listen to it or to let go. Without the need to make it fit. Because your true answer will always find you, the moment you will be really ready and will have the need.

– Pile One,

the star, the ten of cups and the fool.

Your poor and innocent soul... Your tired heart, your consumed mind... The only thing you ever wanted, the one that you wanted back then, was simply to leave it all behind. All that pain, all that fear. All the reasons why you couldn't ever be enough or right for someone, for anyone, that for once you just desired to don't hear... You found the last bits of your strength, patience and courage, all that remained in your shattered heart. And you used them to try to heal. All those numerous wounds, so many that it just feels like a whole and single, draining, torturing, one.

But what did it give you, in exchange of this incredible resilience to try to heal? Only a little relief, a little distraction... That hid that hole that was becoming bigger and bigger, with each time that you worked on - or to be exact forced - the healing of your soul.

And this is the thing. This is what ruined it all, what made it so difficult and challenging. What influenced so many others areas of your life... One little but so important detail about who you are, the way you are. And how much you got used in this life to beat yourself up, blaming for every single disgrace that you experienced... How often you repeated it, demonstrated it to yourself with every step that was supposed to help you heal. You never were gentle, patient, understanding. You never gave yourself credit for how many right things and choices you made. Or how many others mistakes never were really yours, but of somebody else. You did none of this. But only focused on rushing, on becoming better, on healing faster, growing, so you could be sooner worthy and ready to show what a good person you are to this world. You were angry, frustrated, ashamed. You despised yourself for needing healing and learning in the first place. You regretted every single additional day that you needed to get it together. Only noticing how many flows you still have, how many wounds are still bleeding, how many triggers you still can't endure.

Your desire, your intention, was so good... So innocent, genuine and truly right. But so quickly and scarily naturally it became just another cage and punishment that you gave yourself. Changing the whole purpose, the whole meaning, of a journey that is so pure. That was never supposed to be so rushed, give you so quickly those results that now you are so angry to don't see manifesting in your world... And that you decided, unconsciously or perhaps not, to look for in others. The ones that seem so beautiful, so healthy and whole. The ones that seem to go through life so gracefully, no matter the obstacles or challenges on their path. The ones that seem to be able to influence you so positively, if only you stay close to them, showing you the right ways and directions. Supporting you, helping you in doing it correctly, like you seem incapable of doing on your own.

But, no matter how much we adore to think the opposite, we indeed are the only ones responsible for our journey. For our battles, our victories or our loss. No matter how supportive, how close others are, they still can't really help us. Not when we don't allow even our own self to do the needed work. You can't fight through it, not this journey. You can't do it with the only motivation and push being your own meanness, judgment and resentement for the things that you dared to do or not. You can't be there, behind your own back, looking closely at every your step and action, ready to attack if you don't do it right.

But you can allow yourself to take more time. To be slower. To make more mistakes. To feel once again that pain, if it's the one that still overwhelms your heart. You can remember. You can reflect. Learn something from it. Or maybe not. Because it is normal, it is right, to take time to heal, to go through it with all the needed ups and downs.

And you can still do it. You can continue this journey changing your pace and rhythm, or simply starting from scratch. You can and need to do it. Because no-one else can help and guide you, as you can do to your own self. By being gentle and understanding with your heart and mind, that indeed do their best to allow you to feel and experience this life.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

– Pile Two,

the magician, the fool and the page of swords

You have something so beautiful, so unique, within yourself. Such passion that, if not explored and shared, can consume you inevitably. Consume that power that you sometimes forget to have. So you always took care of it. You always nourished it. In the moments when it felt as natural as breathing, and even in those where it was too similar to a torture, that need to create and do something but without any idea on why, how to start or from where. And even if, thanks to you and your deepest love, this passion and calling did survive... It is starting to fade now. Submerged with all the questions and doubts about whether or not it is worth it, if you are good enough to do it at all, if it is really that important... All because for quite sometime you were the only admirer and supporter of your work.

You are wavering, your steps and actions as you create become more and more unstable, as every inspiration or idea seems not enough to be worthy of the success, even just appreciation that you want. But this something... Is so yours, so made perfectly just for you and to express your soul... That you can't really just leave it. You can't just stop doing it, even if it is becoming hard to be satisfied as you used to, because you so naturally always gravitate back to creating and allowing your mind and heart to speak up through every step of your work. So you keep going, with a non consistent rhythm, many set backs, infinite doubts... Doing it, because you feel this need and desire so much. But not really enjoying it anymore. Because in the eyes of others it never seems good enough, and therefore it doesn't feel enough for your own self. For the one that, in the first place, you were supposedly creating it for.

It is so natural and normal to have the desire to share, to welcome others in your universe in a sense, to show them who you are or how you see this world... But what starts so innocently and genuinely, a way to connect to others and don't feel so different or not understood, an alternative type of motivation and fuel for your creativity even... is so often soon to become exactly what kills it, overwhelming your every idea with the judgment of others, and their way of seeing the world.

It just shifted your perspective, about yourself and your work. It made you feel little, insignificant, too simple or too much, confronted to what others seem to consider deserving and worthy of their attention and love. It made you feel useless, because when your creation was ignored, you felt like what was really being rejected was your soul that spoke through your work.

And time after time, day after day, this calling became so faint, almost non existent. Not because it is really going away... But because you are just the one that tries so desperately to ignore it and to not hear it. Convinced that following it would be useless, without anyone appreciating and admiring what you do. Convinced that doing it for your own self and enjoyment is not really worth it, because it doesn't give you any income, any fame, any support and appreciation from others. Convinced that it is only and simply a waste of time.

But is it? Is it really completely useless if you are the only one to whom you dedicate the creations of your soul? Or does it give you a chance to feel and experience this world in your own way, processing those emotions and thoughts, reinventing them? Does it give you back the ability to breathe and feel at ease, once you allow everything that overwhelms you flow out through your work? Does it fill your time with excitement and enjoyment? Does it give you a safe place, that allows you to rest and hide from everything else? Does it make you feel proud of who you are and what you did, what you were able to create with your own mind and hands? Because even if it does only one of these things... Than it is worth it. Because this is what gives you the energy and fuel to live this life, to appreciate it, to go through it. Having something that always protects and expresses your soul.

You can't do only what assures you the interest or appreciation of others. You can't do it for so long as you are planning or trying to do. You can't do it without constantly feeling on autopilot, thrown from one work to another, trying to satisfy every one of them in hopes that in return they will support your work. It is not true to you. It is not what you want or need. It is not even something that you can do, the things that they want. It is only a play, of which you are trying to learn all the phrases and rhythm, but that you can keep up with only for so long.

This life is not unfair, wrong, useless, a constant and neverending annoying and painful cycle. But it is this way for you, who doesn't have anymore that tiny but vital component - the language of your soul. You are suppressing it, you are limiting it and judging. For what? For whom? For what reason? This is not something that needs to be enough or good for others. It is not something that needs to give you incredible success, wealth or recognition. It can, but before any of that it needs only to be something that you enjoy. Truly and simply.

You don't need to find new ideas, ways, hobbies, interests, sports, studies, paths to explore - you just need to comeback to what you already know that you love. And welcome it in your Iife, starting doing it again and more. Just for your own fun and enjoyment, that will overflow from your heart to every other aspect of your life. Connecting everything, and making it free from the torture of unsatisfaction and frustration that you endure.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

– Pile Three,

the devil, the justice and the star

Sometimes we cross paths with those that perhaps we weren't meant to be with, we weren't meant to create and have the same story as the one we desired and pictured so well. It happens. It hurts. Then, eventually, it goes away. But when it happens again and again, one person after another... One betrayal, lie or misunderstanding after the other... How can one not notice the one element that connects them all - themselves? How can one not think, even in the slightest, that perhaps it is not working out because of who and how they are?

So one dives into it, tries to remember every single moment, analyse their own ways, with the desperate need to find that wrong something and change it, making everything in themselves right again. With the need to demonstrate that it is something that can be changed and that it won't be this way forever. That they can and will be better, more worthy, more right, and for this reason chosen by someone. And perhaps they do find it, that something, they work on it day and night, fight their own demons and who they are, and come out of it brand new. They put themselves out there, open up to people and try genuinely to connect... And then it happens all over again. The same pain, confusion, uncertainty, doubts, betrayal or a broken heart. But they did the work right? They changed, or did they not? And there it goes the fear of not being worthy no matter what, of being destined to loneliness and hurt, or perhaps of not doing enough. And some collapse, they hide, and try with all their forces to make themselves enough, to not need anyone else in their life. While others... Others don't say it out loud. Don't think about it. Hide it deep down. And try to make things work no matter what it means to accept and endure, just to not have yet another person leaving them behind.

And you... You are doing it right now. With them, or with others in your life. Subtly, unconsciously, you force yourself to stay. No matter the words you hear, the actions you see, the promises that you know are already broken and mean nothing to the person by your side. You stay. Because walking away might mean that there never will be someone else, that you will be the only one you will have.

It is difficult and painful to think about being somehow different and wrong, never enough. It is even more difficult to try to work on it and change yourself. It is difficult to face not only the pain but also the loneliness. To feel that fear of living this way forever creeping on you with each day. So staying, trying to be more understanding, patient, docile, considerate, delicate, silent and comfortable for others... Seems indeed less difficult and scary, because in return they too will stay. Even when it is clear that you are torturing and consuming yourself. Even when you so clearly and surely know that the way you are treated is not okay at all. All for that acceptance, that tiny affection, even if not genuine. All for those things that you think you will never be able to find in yourself, and might not find once the people that are now in your life will not be here anymore. A void that, perhaps, won't ever be filled with another person, with another connection or love.

But by convincing yourself to adapt to others and what they look for or don't love... You did exactly that one thing that will not allow people who are genuinely interested in you to come closer. Not when that place in your life is already occupied by another someone. Not when you show so ardently and persistently that the way you are treated is what you want.

A right person - the one that is interested in you exactly the way you are, not less not more - even when so close to you to see you... Will never be able to do something, to help you, to take you out of this play pretend and torture... Because no one can do what should start from you, what you should be ready to finally to do: to protect yourself, t be treated right, to be loved and appreciated for the way you are.

It is safe, please believe me. It is safe for you to be who you are. It is safe for you to don't accept scraps of love and attention from others. It is safe if you walk away from those who can't find that one thing they want in you, who is already perfectly fine and enough. It is safe for you to don't force it. It is safe for you to let them all go. Because the space they will leave behind them is not something so negative as you convince yourself to be. It is not a sign of loss. It is only more space for your own self to grow, to bloom, to be who you are. To shine so proudly and brightly and to be seen by those who will notice and love you. And not the ways you can adapt to someone elses need, desire or mood.

P.s. If you would like to receive a more personal message and guidance about your situation - find out all about it here!♡

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the-oblivious-writer · 2 years ago

Text

Let the Light In |1|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Princess Tara

Summary: You and Tara Carpenter never got along much. One of the things she looked forward to when leaving Woodsboro was never having to see you again. But one day she unexpectedly bumps into you on her first day at Blackmore University

Warning(s): Swearing, underage drinking and mentions of intoxication, the loving part of their enemies to lovers story has definitely not started yet

Notes: This is gonna be fun

Masterlist|Next part

It was Tara’s first day and of course she was already running late for her first class. She had turned down the maps that were offered at the entrance… goodness did she regret that now.

About seven minutes left until the start of her class and she was ninety nine percent sure she was walking in a circle. She figured she would make one more attempt before asking for help. Just as she began to walk another lap, she bumped into somebody. She was about to apologize but cut herself off once she realized who she had bumped into.

“Sorr—oh it’s you,” her apologetic tone quickly turned sour.

You rolled your eyes at this. “Lovely seeing you too,” you quipped.

Tara scoffed as she knelt down. “What are you even doing here?” she asked while picking up her belongings, you did the same, grabbing a couple of your pens that had fallen.

“Well, you know how I’ve always adored college campuses. I can’t get enough of’em,” you snarked, earning yourself a familiar unamused expression from Tara.

Oh, you’ve missed that.

You exhaled, giving her a look, before continuing, “What does it look like, princess? I’m attending college.”

Tara didn’t appreciate your matter-of-fact tone. She stood before roughly shoving one of your books to your chest. “We’ve been over this, don’t call me that.”

You’ve had the same nickname for Tara for years now. It pissed her off each time you used it, and each time you felt yourself grow with amusement.

“I mean, what are you doing here—in New York?”

“Decided I’d go to a college near my family. What’s it to you?”

Tara rolled her eyes. She sees your condescending tone is still very much present. Gosh, how she despised you. Just when she thinks she has gotten away from everything she left behind without looking back, you show up with your ceaseless snarkiness.

“You know how much I’ve missed our back and forths, but I have no idea where I’m going and my class starts any minute now.”

You didn’t let the blatant sarcasm she started out with stop you from playing into the compliment. “You sure know how to make a girl blush.”

Unfortunately, her attention wasn’t on you. Her eyes were wandering, almost frantically, as she tried to look for the door to her film class. You wondered why she didn’t just grab a map at the entrance. You wore a small smile and looked at the girl.

“Lucky you, we’re headed in the same direction. My class isn't far from your destination,” you told her.

“Great. Perfect. Show me?” Tara impatiently asked, immediately filled with regret as she saw the smug smirk that played on your face. She wanted nothing more than to slap it right—

“—As you wish,” you winked at her and began to walk.

Tara let out a small groan, a familiar feeling returned at your action. The same feeling she got when you pulled a prank on those cheerleaders who teased her or whenever you seeked her praise after pulling another one of your mischievous stunts on the town. It was bad enough you were making your problems her own, you didn’t need to give her a sickening feeling on top of it. She always excused that feeling as stress, stress you gave her.

She always did wonder why you did what you did to those cheerleaders. She feels vain for even assuming she was a contributing factor, it’s probably just a coincidence. But then again, that smile you gave her after Chad told her what happened said otherwise. Right?

She never understood you. She didn’t understand you then, and she doesn’t understand you now. You were insufferable to no end.

“We art h’re,” you said, snapping her from her thoughts. Tara noted another thing that hasn't changed; you were a major dork. Wait… did she only walk about three steps?

“Are you serious, it was right here?”

“You were never good at direction,” you remarked.

“And you’re still as infuriating as ever.”

You shook your head, disappointment on your face. “That’s no way to thank somebody. Where've your manners gone?” You feigned a hurt look, placing your hand over your chest.

“Blah blah pthh,” she mocked you. Still mature as ever, you see.

“Good one,” you said in a monotone voice.

“Thank you,” she said with the same energy. “Now, I get you’re obsessed with me, but I have to get to class.” Without waiting for a response, she shoved passed you and entered the classroom.

A downward smile played on your face as you watched Tara walk into her classroom. Once she was fully inside, you walked the long distance to your own classroom. As you made your way to your class, Tara sat down next to Mindy with a huff.

“Uh oh, I know that look. What’s up your ass this time?” Mindy asked while Tara settled in the seat beside her.

“The same pain in my ass from high school,” Tara grumbled.

Mindy raised her eyebrows, immediately hit with recognition. She knew exactly who Tara was referring to. “Shit. Really? Never thought I’d get to see you two at it again. Never say never I guess,” she sighed as Tara groaned and put her head down.

—

You opened the door to your shared apartment, throwing your bag on the floor and dramatically plopping down on the coach. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes as the door to your roommates room opened.

“Y/N, you up?” she asked. You opened your eyes before sitting up and nodding at her. “Okay good, I need your opinion.” She held up two tops. “Which one should I go with?”

“Uh… left one for sure,” you answered, pointing to the left top.

“Right?” she said in agreement.

She’s been talking to this girl for a bit now and tonight would be their second date. “So, when do I get to meet the girl that has my roommate so smitten?”

“And you embarrass me? Yeah, no. I’m gonna hold off on that.”

You jokingly scoff at her comment. “Come on, Anika. I solemnly swear,” you said while saluting.

Anika let out a small laugh, “I’ve never been more convinced,” she sarcastically replied.

Later that night, you’re left alone in the apartment with nothing to do while Anika is out on her date. You try to pass the time by watching whatever sitcoms are on, before getting a message from one of your friends asking if you were free.

Henry (8:32 pm) you free? I’m so fucking bored rn 😩

bestie (8:33 pm) what do you have in mind?

Henry (8:33 pm) heard about a frat party goin on tn

bestie (8:34 pm) idk, you know how I am with parties

Henry (8:34 pm) ohhh come onnn my little wallflower pleaseee

bestie (8:35 pm) I don’t feel like being around people rn

Henry (8:35 pm) you NEVER feel like being around people

Henry (8:35 pm) besides there’ll be that balless beer you like and you can stay in your little corner if you want

bestie (8:36 pm) Fine.

Henry (8:36 pm) YAYY pick you up in fifteen?

bestie (8:37 pm) okay

Read at 8:37 pm

When the two of you arrived at the party, you immediately wanted to curl up into a ball. Henry stayed by your side for a while but then ventured off to do his own thing. You sat down on a couch, beer in hand, as your right leg bounced.

A large part of you just wished this couch would swallow you whole.

Not far from where you sat, Chad and Ethan leaned against a wall as they talked. Chad told Ethan that this was the night, the night they would find the girl for Ethan. But after about an hour of looking and rejections, Ethan wasn’t feeling as great as he was when the night first started. Maybe he should just call it—oh cute girl.

“Wait—what about her? She’s cute.” Ethan pointed towards a couch, a hopeful smile on his face.

Chad looked in the direction to where he was pointing. His eyes widened at the sight of you sitting on the couch. “Holy crap.”

Ethan scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “What is it? Is she taken or something?”

“Uh, you know that girl that Tara was ranting about earlier?”

“Yeah. She was pissed, but what does that have—oh. Oh. That’s her?”

Chad nodded as he looked at you then back at the curly haired boy. “Oh boy,” was all he could say before sipping on the red solo cup in his hand.

As Chad gave Ethan a little more context on you and Tara, Henry walked over and sat down beside you. “What’s up?” he asked while lightly nudging the side of his knee with yours.

“I feel like eyes are on me, but I don’t know from where and it’s really starting to tick me off,” you told him before you took another sip of your beer.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re not being, like, stalked or something,” he said in his reassuring voice.

You nodded before you looked down your bottle to see you finished it. “I’m out. Come with me to get another?”

Henry hummed and you both got up, walking towards the table where all the drinks were. You really didn’t care for drinking, you found most of what was on the table disgusting. The table wreaked, you could practically feel your nose hairs burning off. You only ever drank this one brand of beer, ‘ball-less beer’ as Henry likes to say. It was low-alcohol and you were fine with that. You needed something to do at these parties you were dragged out to without making yourself look like an idiot.

As Henry was talking to somebody else, you were beside him. When you went for the bottle not far from you, a familiar voice reached your ears.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice before rolling your eyes.

“At this point you’re stalking me, you have to be,” Tara added with exasperation.

“Someone’s full of it. A friend dragged me here, Carpenter, not everything pertains to you,” you said with unapologetic sarcasm.

“I’m supposed to believe you actually have a friend?” she questioned with an incredulous look.

“Now you know how I felt when I discovered there was more than one person that supposedly tolerates you,” you shot back, slightly tilting your head. “But the more you know, I guess.”

“All I’m hearing is that you can’t comprehend what it’s like to be tolerated,” she quipped, returning the condescending energy you spoke with. She lifted one of the bottles of Vodka, inspecting it, before tucking it under her arm.

You noticed this and stayed silent. This caught you off guard for some reason. Maybe you never thought you would see the day when princess Tara would be going to frat parties and drinking. She hasn’t changed, yet has, all at once.

Her comment was long forgotten as you got lost in your own train of thought. Tara walked away just as you returned with a tap on your shoulder. You looked and saw Henry.

“You alright?” he asked you. The person he was just talking to had left.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m just gonna head back,” you said.

“Want me to join you?”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s okay. You can go. You know where to find me.”

“Alright, but let me know when you wanna leave,” he said. He raised his fist and you reciprocated, bumping fists. He gave you one last nod before he left, already catching up with someone he knew. He was always the social butterfly.

You sat back down on the couch, snapping off the cap to the beer bottle you grabbed and taking a sip. It was disgusting but, as established earlier, it was something to do. You took out your phone and scrolled through your notifications where you saw two messages from your older brother. You clicked on one of the messages.

Dickhead (9:01 pm) mom wants to know if you’re coming over for Lily’s birthday

007 (9:43 pm) as far as I know

Dickhead (9:45 pm) took you long enough

007 (9:46 pm) relax, it was only 42 mins

Dickhead (9:46 pm) how do I know you didn’t get kidnapped in those 42 mins????

007 (9:47 pm) You’re so fucking dramatic

Dickhead (9:47 pm) am I? Or are you not dramatic enough?

Dickhead (9:48 pm) where even are you rn

007 (9:48 pm) Some stupid party, not that it's your business?

Dickhead (9:49 pm) whatever idc

007 (9:49 pm) Seems like you do

Dickhead (9:50 pm) I should block you

You were about to send the reply you typed up but a loud thud against a nearby wall stopped you. You looked up and saw an extremely drunk looking Tara being held up by Chad. You recalled him as one of her friends from Woodsboro.

“Alright, I think it’s time to go home,” he told the intoxicated girl.

She shook her head in defiance. “No, ‘m fine,” she slurred, still struggling to stand on her own.

“Yo, Ethan!” Chad called over a curly haired boy, Tara winced at his volume. The other boy nodded, and seconds later, the three exited the party, leaving you with a weight at the pit of your stomach.

You guess some things really have changed since you last saw Tara.

Back at the Carpenter-Bailey residence, a worried Sam anxiously awaits for her little sister. The flush of relief she felt when Chad messaged her lasted only so long while each minute stretched. She was debating whether or not she should go to them when she heard knocking. As soon as she looked through the peep hole, she opened the door, here worry immediately taking over.

“Finally, I was worried sick! I was trying to call—wait, is she drunk?” Between the speed of Sam’s words and their volume, Tara grew nauseous and overwhelmed.

“Ugh, too loud,” she groaned; she looked half asleep as she leaned against Chad.

Sam sighed at the sight of her sister. Since they moved to New York, this wasn’t a foreign state to see her sister in, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

“I’m gonna wash you up. We’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” she said in a gentle voice as she got closer to her sister, ready to take her off Chad's hands.

Tara immediately clung onto Sam’s waist, the action tugging at the older Carpenter’s heart. Chad mumbled an apologetic, “sorry,” as Sam walked Tara to the bathroom.

After it was ensured that Tara was alright and taken care of, Chad said his goodbyes, along with Ethan, before leaving.

—

It was the next day, and you had history. Ten minutes passed and just as you were taking notes, the door slammed open. Everyone turned their head and saw Tara wearing a black hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of sunglasses. You could safely assume she was suffering from a killer hangover after last night.

Your professor, who stood at the front of the classroom, looked at her for a moment before adjusting his glasses with a subtle sigh. “Find a seat,” he lazily said before continuing the lesson.

Everyone else returned their attention to the professor, or whatever else they were doing before, but your own eyes followed Tara. You couldn’t help but notice the only available seat was beside you, how ridiculously convenient. Why wouldn’t today be the day people felt especially curious?

With numerous painful steps, Tara approached the seat beside you. By the time she arrived, you had already turned back to your notes. “You could’ve just skipped,” you whispered without skipping a beat, still not looking up from your notes.

“Sam made me go,” she grumbled back whilst she attempted to subtly tilt her head to catch a glimpse of your notes.

“You live with your sister?” you asked; you used your arm to block her view of your notebook.

She rolled her eyes, painfully so, her head was throbbing. “And?” she inquired in a defensive voice.

You shook your head, finally looking away from your notes. “Meant nothing by it. She seems nice,” you reassured her.

“Since when have you two talked? I mean—obviously you two crossed paths. But I didn’t realize you two had talked talked. Like, obviously, at some point in time—”

Familiar with the Carpenter’s rambling routine, you cut her off before she could speak further. “—Me and her briefly met earlier, before… yeah,” you said.

That was as specific as you were, it was as specific as you would like to be. You weren’t hiding anything, you just wanted the metallic taste in your mouth to go away.

“Really?” Now Tara was curious. “When was that?”

You exhaled, putting down your pencil. You already had a feeling you weren’t going to get much work done with Tara sitting right beside you. “Maybe if you spent as much time taking notes as you did interrogating me, you wouldn’t have to peek over my shoulder every five seconds.”

Tara immediately looked away from your notes as she slumped in her chair. “Whatever, Y/L/N. I’m only here because it’s a mandatory class,” she said.

“Geez,” you mumbled to yourself before throwing a pencil to Tara. “At least look like you’re doing something.”

After what felt like an eternity, the class finally came to an end. It didn’t take long for you and Tara to grow sick of one another. You were both more than ready to leave, almost racing out the door on your way out.

Outside the classroom, you met Anika. You were about to greet her when Tara shoved passed you without sparing a single glance. You rolled your eyes, something you found yourself doing a lot, as you exhaled, “fucking princess.”

The interaction may have been just a few seconds at most, but Anika still felt the tension. She could slice through it with a knife.

“Y/N, please don’t tell me that’s the girl you’ve been ranting about,” your roommate practically pleaded.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused at this. “Yes…”

“Of course she is,” she sighed. “Well, that girl I’ve been seeing?”

“Mhm?”

“They’re friends.”

“Really? That’s… great,” you said whilst attempting a supporting smile for your friend.

This was going to be quite the year.

-----------

A/N: First chapter finally posted!

(EDIT) A/N: I think this came out well

#jenna ortega #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x y/n #scream #scream 6 #let the light in #jenna ortega x reader

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gremlinmodetweeker · 9 months ago

Text

An Olive Branch Among Thorns

Okay so more a/b/o König because heck why not. The last one was so angsty that I had to bring these two back together a bit. I mean, I can't have König just hating the reader, right? Nah there's gotta be more. Also, world building!

Story below cut

An Olive Branch Among Thorns

You’d spent the past week in König’s home off base. He came back every night, prepared you a meal, and then retired to his office before heading to bed. At first, you’d considered it rude. Then you considered the fact that he was hiding from you in his own home. With that understanding, you had more sympathy for the alpha as he tried to keep the distance between you.

Tonight, he was cooking something a bit more exciting than usual. It was a simple spaghetti, but it was better than the microwave meals he’d been making for the past few days. It was startling to see him cook, particularly because you’d realized the man was a far better cook than you’d chalked him up to be.

He diced the onions into fine little cubes before dashing them from the cutting board into a frying pan. The sizzles that came forth was ripping hot and bright, the only sound that filled the kitchen aside from the whirring fans of the fumehood.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you asked once more as you sat across the kitchen island.

König looked up at you. His ice cold eyes washed you over briefly, then trained themselves back on the floor.

“No.”

If you hadn’t been listening, his answer would have been lost among the thuds of the knife coming down on the cutting board.

You hated to watch, but he didn’t dare give you a single job to do. Instead, you hung about like an unwanted phantom, unable to tear yourself away from the only action you’d seen all day. Before König came home, you’d spent the day reading the books that covered the home like wallpaper, but you struggled to find something that kept your interest for longer than half an hour. It all seemed terribly dry.

When König had come home, you’d greeted him as you did every day, and he ignored you as he did every day. It was a painful routine to lose yourself in. You desperately wanted to have any sort of human interaction but he kept you shut in his home, out of sight out of mind. It was a simple way of keeping you, and for understandable reasons. He didn’t want to become attached. You desperately wished he would change his mind.

You watched the large man maneuver his body through the tiny kitchen with startling ease. You wondered how long he’d lived here to know just how to duck his head to avoid slamming it into the cupboards as he stood up. Evidently, long enough to figure out how to tuck his enormous frame under the fumehood.

You saw the pure hatred in his eyes when he turned back to look at you. He hid it behind a mask of concern, but you saw that brief flicker for long enough to know just what you were to him. A pest, if that. You knew he despised the fact that he had to care for you. If he could, he would toss you out by the scruff of your neck, but the SHA kept a strict eye on the status of matched couples. Then again, it wasn’t uncommon for alphas to harm their omegas. You’d heard too many horror stories of alphas losing control and tearing their omegas apart. There was a story on the news every other week about it. When König looked at you, the raw hatred that he exuded was enough to remind you of just what place you held in this world.

He hissed as a splatter of oil spat up onto his hand.

Instinctively, you ducked your head and apologized.

As he ran his hand under cool water, he turned to address you properly for the first time since he brought you home.

“Why are you sorry?” he barked.

You flinched and squeaked out, “I’m supposed to be cooking for you.”

König dried his hand and turned back to the frying pan without another word.

You thought that would be the end of it, but it seemed König had other ideas.

“You’re not expected to do anything for me,” he said quietly, “I’ve lived on my own for long enough.”

You scowled.

“What am I supposed to do then?” you challenged him, more vitriol in your tone than you intended.

You’d hoped he hadn’t noticed for a brief moment. Of course, by the way he set his shoulders back and drew himself up to his full height, you couldn’t be further from the truth.

“You,” he glared at you, “are meant to sit down and be quiet. That’s part of being an omega, ja?”

You grit your teeth, “Part of being an omega is providing for their alpha.”

König’s eyes sharpened as his nostrils flared, “Part of being an omega is listening to what an alpha says.”

“So what am I supposed to do all day?” you challenged him further.

König’s harsh glare softened to a defeated look, “I don’t know.”

You guessed you shouldn’t have expected him to know. So thus, you sat quietly and waited for him to finish making the pasta sauce.

Not much later, König turned back to you with a bowl full of spaghetti. Instead of passing it to you, he walked to the table and set the bowl across the table from him. You looked at him for further instruction, but he said nothing as he began to eat.

You slunk into the other chair and picked up your utensils. You looked between them and König, who was pointedly avoiding looking at you.

“Thank you,” you said quietly before eating.

His acknowledging hum was lost by the taste of the bright tomato sauce on your tongue. Fresh herbs entangled with the savory taste of meat as you took in another mouthful. For someone who only cooked microwave meals, you were surprised to find yourself enjoying the fresh meal.

“You like it?”

You looked up at König, who was watching you intently. You didn’t know if you preferred his absence or his intense interest.

“It’s great,” you said quietly before taking another mouthful.

“Gut,” König nodded and turned back to his meal.

You waited a bit before you decided to try and break the silence.

“Was work okay today?” you asked quietly, afraid of your own voice.

König didn’t reply and for a moment, you thought that maybe he hadn’t heard you.

After a brief pause, König cleared his throat, “It was. Was your day okay?”

You put your fork down briefly.

“There wasn’t much to do,” you admitted.

König nodded carefully. He drummed his fingers on the table before he looked back up at you, “It must be lonely here.”

You nodded timidly.

“I see…” König finished off his bowl. He stepped to the kitchen, piled more into his bowl and then sat down with a groan that was echoed by the chair.

“It’s not a big problem,” you tried to say but König waved you off.

“No, it is. You’re in my home now, so I’m responsible for you,” König grumbled as he took another mouthful, “I will give you a phone.”

A phone?

“You’re giving me a phone?” you looked at him strangely, “but aren’t omegas not supposed to own phones?”

König glared into his bowl, “Those rules are meaningless.”

“But what about the SHA?” you asked.

“There’s no laws barring omegas from having their own devices,” König grumbled, “that’s just a myth.”

You looked down at your hands. All this time you were allowed to have your own phone? Your father had strict control over your phone and laptop before you were taken into the SHA program. You’d never had unrestricted access. The thought boggled your mind.

“I can get you one tomorrow,” König promised, “and when I come home I’ll show you some forums where you can talk to others.”

“Other omegas?” you asked hopefully.

“If you’d like,” König offered, “or there’s mixed boards where you aren’t bound to messaging within your own class.”

“That exists?” your world was steadily falling apart at the seams.

König’s eyes widened, almost as though he was shocked or frightened by what was only obvious to you.

“You never knew of those?” König asked incredulously.

“My father never showed me those,” you told him.

“Your father controlled your access to the internet?” König scowled.

“Yeah? Every omega I’ve met uses restricted access devices,” you looked at him as though he’d just grown a second head.

“That’s…” König shook his head, “that’s not right. Look,” he lightly hit the table with his fist, “under this roof, you’re free to do as you please. It’s not my job to control you.”

“But you’re my partner,” you immediately winced.

“I’m not your mate,” König sighed. He tapped his spoon on the table once, twice, then took a deep breath before saying, “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me. I never wanted a mate. It’s too… It’s risky, in this line of work.”

“How come?” you asked.

“Because you could lose me the next time I go overseas,” König explained, “I’m a soldier. I won’t stay here forever. When you lose me, you’ll be matched to another alpha-”

“Or a beta!” you interjected hopefully.

König’s eyebrows knit together.

“You don’t know much about the matching program, do you,” König stated flatly.

“I know enough,” you took a sip of water.

“Well, since you’re an omega O, you’re not likely to get matched with a beta,” König’s lips formed into a line, further exacerbated by a scar that ran back from the left corner of his mouth.

“But my mother was matched with a beta,” you refuted him easily.

“Was your mother and omega O?”

You crumpled into yourself.

“She was an omega A.”

König pointed his fork at you, “Exactly. Omega Os are matched with alphas almost exclusively. So after me, you’ll probably get another alpha. If you’re unlucky, an alpha A, like me.”

You shuddered.

König watched you carefully before turning back to his food.

“So I’m right,” he muttered, “you are scared of me.”

“I’m not scared of you,” you retorted, “I just… I don’t know what other alphas are like.”

König frowned as he glanced up at you briefly, “You don’t know?”

“Not really,” you admitted, “I was in an omega only school growing up.”

König’s face fell, “So you have no idea what we’re like.”

You shook your head.

“Well,” König swirled his fork in his pasta, “we’re bigger. Stronger. You know all that though, everyone does.”

“You’re the biggest person I’ve ever met,” you admitted.

König snorted and shook his head, “I get that a lot,” he chewed carefully before swallowing heavily, “anyways, alphas are known to be aggressive, impulsive. Very…” he searched for a word, “primal. Back in ancient times, we were the ones to control territory and protect our people. Nowadays, we’re too head-strong for the modern world. So they use our bodies for labor, and we’re left to deal with these urges ourselves.”

“I know that stuff,” you tried to hide the tremor in your voice, “I watch the news.”

“What, with alphas tearing apart their partners?” König snorted, “half of those aren’t even real. It’s just a media stunt to turn the public against alphas. The same thing happens to omegas too. You’re made out to be weak nymphomaniacs. You see that too, right?”

You nodded.

“Most alphas will never hurt their partners,” König insisted, “ever. We don’t do that. We’re human beings, not monsters.”

“So you won’t hurt me?” you asked hopefully.

“Never,” König determined, “I would never hurt anyone I don’t have to. You, as my legal partner, will never be hurt by me.”

You nodded along. He’d never hurt you, but he’d never hold you close enough to hurt you either. You tried not to let it hurt you, you’d cried for days over your situation, and yet still it stung to hear ‘my legal partner’ instead of ‘my partner’.

You set your spoon down in your bowl with a final clank.

“I guess I’ll speak to you tomorrow?” you asked solemnly.

König looked down at your bowl and then back up at you.

“If you ever need me,” König traced the rim of his wine glass with a finger, “I’m usually in my office when I’m home,” he looked up at you with a heavy stare, “you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

You tore yourself away from his stare to go and clean your bowl. As you walked out of the room, you could feel his stare still lingering on you until you made your way into your bedroom.

AU Masterlist

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gunnerfc · 1 year ago

Text

Tension’s Rising | Alexia Putellas x Spain!Reader (18+, minors DNI)

Summary: you seem always to be paired with Alexia during national team camps and each time, the two of you can never get along, until one camp where you can’t deal with the captain anymore

WC: 1.6K

Warnings: strap use (r receiving), both R and Alexia are kinda mean (calling each other names like bitch, whore, slut), top alexia, bottom reader

AN: It’s been a while since I’ve written anything smutty (aside from my Aitana fic) so bear with me as I get back into writing smut lol

You looked forward to national team camps since it meant you got to see a lot of your close friends you don't see often while playing in the States. It sucked being away from your teammates for extended periods of time but each camp, you made up for it.

The one thing you despised about national team camps was being roomed with Alexia. You seemed to always be paired with the captain during breaks and each camp she was determined to get on your last nerve. You knew she was doing it on purpose, leaving her clothes on your side of the room, listening to loud videos (mostly games of whoever you would be playing) with no headphones, among other things. When you asked some of your fellow teammates, those who also played with Alexia in Barcelona, they looked at you as if you were crazy. The actions you had described not matching the closed-off persona they knew Alexia to have.

Why she decided to act this way with you, you weren’t sure. However, you were determined to finally tell the captain off for her behavior. You were one of the last to arrive at camp, having a longer flight than most of your teammates. You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes when you picked up your rooming assignment, once again seeing your name next to Alexia’s. Once you had made it to the elevator and you were alone, you groaned out loud, not looking forward to next week and having to be in the same room as Alexia.

When you arrived on the floor where the team would be staying for the next few days, you waited a minute before unlocking the hotel room, bracing yourself for whatever Alexia would have done to the room before you could say anything. Walking into the room you were met with Alexia’s stuff on one of the beds and Alexia’s herself on the other.

You didn’t speak to the midfielder, choosing to ignore her presence altogether. You rolled your eyes as you threw her things onto her bed before quickly unpacking your things.

“Are you not gonna speak?” you heard from behind you as you got your training kit out for tomorrow. You mocked her quietly before turning around to give her a tight smile before muttering “hola.”

You turned back to your things and as you continued, the video Alexia had been watching got progressively louder. You knew if you didn’t say anything now, on the first night, you wouldn’t for the entire camp.

“Can you please not be such an inconsiderate bitch? For one camp I would like to be able to relax in my room without having to clean up after you or listen to your annoyingly loud games. Is that too much to ask for?” you snapped at the blonde, not backing down from finally confronting her.

You watched as shock graced Alexia’s features, though it was quickly replaced with a smug look. You had to shake your head to rid your thoughts of how attractive your captain looked at the moment, you were dead set on seeing this through.

“You shouldn’t speak to your captain like that, you know,” Alexia taunted as she sat up on her bed to fully face you. The blonde moved so she was now sitting on the side of the bed, her body closer to you than wanted at the moment.

You tried as hard as you could to focus on the matter at hand, but you couldn’t deny just how hot Alexia was, even when she did the simplest of things. You turned back to your things that were on your bed, your back now facing Alexia. You could hear her moving around but refused to turn around.

You felt her standing right behind you, her warm breath hitting your neck. You felt your heartbeat pick up as her hands came to rest on your waist, pulling you flush against her front.

“Speaking to your captain that way should be punished, bebita,” Alexia whispered in your ear, pressing as close to you as humanly possible.

It was now that you felt the strap on that she was packing. The thought of her wearing a strap while waiting for you almost made you moan but you held it in. Alexia’s hands on your waist sipped under your shirt and you let out a small gasp at her warm hands on your cool skin.

Alexia’s hands traced up and down your sides, moving to rest just under the bottom of the sports bra you were wearing. Before you could process what was happening, Alexia’s hands were off your body and she had taken a small step back. You missed the warmth of her body immediately as you turned to face her.

The blonde was still wearing the same attractive smirk as she watched your chest move up and down rapidly. Without thinking, your hands found her neck and you were pulling her into a deep kiss. Your lips moved against each other, tongues exploring the other’s mouth. Alexia moved her hands to have one on your hip and the other resting on your ass. She gave both a squeeze and you didn’t fight back the moan this time. You were glad Alexia’s mouth was on yours, preventing the moan from being louder.

With your lips still connected, Alexia guided you toward the desk that was in the hotel room. You pulled away for a quick intake of air before leaning back in but Alexia had other plans as her hands left your shirt from your body. The midfielder was quick to strip you completely naked before doing the same to herself. You didn’t have time to take in her naked form as Alexia’s hands were once again on your hips, turning you around so you were bent over the desk.

You moaned quietly as you waited for her to do something, this was not what you had pictured in your head when you thought about finally telling her off. One of Alexia’s hands moved between your thighs, tracing a finger up and down your right thigh, getting closer to where you needed her each time.

“You’re so wet already, bebita. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already dripping.” you could hear the smirk as she spoke.

“You’re such a whore,” you heard her mumble in your ear which was followed by a small chuckle as you moaned.

You couldn’t think of a sarcastic response in time before you felt the tip of Alexia’s strap push into you. You braced yourself on the desk, your body involuntarily pushing back against Alexia as she bottomed out inside you. Alexia had a tight grip on your hips as she let you get adjusted to the size of her strap on.

Her thrusts started slow and easy before she couldn’t handle it anymore. Alexia was trusting into you quickly and the only sounds filling the room were your moans and the sound of your skin hitting each other.

“F-faster, por favor,” you choked out as best as you could in between moaning.

One of Alexia’s hands left your hip to gather your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulled your head back slightly. Her thrusts sped up as she angled her hips slightly to push deeper into you. The blonde leaned down some to leave harsh bites along your neck and the back of your shoulders. You could feel your orgasm quickly approaching and you knew you weren't going to be able to last much longer.

“You wanna cum, slut? Wanna make a mess all over my cock?” Alexia husked into your ear before biting your earlobe. You let out a small cry before you repeatedly moaned “sí” in response to her question.

Alexia let go of your hair to hold on to your hips again as she continued to pound into from behind. “Go ahead, bebita, make a mess on my cock.” the blonde groaned from behind you, her grip tighter than it was before. You were sure there would be some bruising there tomorrow.

With a loud moan, you came all over Alexia’s strap, your eyes tightly closed as you fell apart. Alexia kept thrusting in you as you reached your orgasm, helping you get through it. Her hips eventually slowed before coming to a stop. You whined as she pulled out of you and you could still feel your core pulsing from the simulation.

You struggled to catch your breath for a few minutes, Alexia handing you a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. You gratefully accepted the water, not trusting your voice without it. You sat the bottle on the desk you were bent over before standing to face Alexia.

The blonde was still wearing the same smirk as her eyes looked you up and down, pausing to look at the wetness that had run down your thighs. When she met your eyes again you could see you weren’t done for tonight, Alexia still wanting to “punish” you for how you spoke to her.

While this wasn’t how you pictured the conversation going, had you known it would have resulted this way, you would have snapped at the captain a lot sooner. You kept these thoughts to yourself, letting Alexia guide you to her bed, letting her have her way with you the rest of the night.

You weren’t sure if this would change her behavior during camp, but if not, you would just have to keep snapping at her so she could continue giving you orgasm after orgasm as “punishment.”

#woso x reader #woso #barca femeni x reader #espwnt x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso smut #alexia putellas smut

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ametistacollinsworld · 2 months ago

Note

Oh if I, a simple baker boy may, can thou ask for Oblivious! Gender neutral Reader x Very Flirtatious!Goob in which Goob suffers, trying to get Reader to blush, or even…Fall in love?!

Oh how scandalous of me >:3c such a sneaky one I am!

💫🧡🩵Oh Oblivious Reader my beloved!🩵🧡💫

Thanks for the request! Hope u like itt!! Gobbie Goob boy!! <3

You've always been very close to the Craft brothers, even considering them your best friends in Gardenview.

Scraps has always been a very friendly and kind toon to you, and her brother, Goob, wasn't much different from her, always being a sweetheart.

For as long as you can remember, Goob has always been very nice to you, not that he wasn't nice to others, of course.

But one thing you noticed is that Goob always seemed to try to include you in everything he and Scraps did, which you thought was very adorable of him.

Not to mention that he could sometimes be very clingy and affectionate for no particular reason, which you didn't mind too much, always appreciating the extra affection.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You were washing the many plates and cups from the breakfast dishes as a favor to Sprout, wearing one of the kitchen aprons and humming softly to yourself.

You were washing another one of the dishes when you suddenly felt a familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist, as well as a small kiss on your cheek, making you let out a small giggle.

"Goob? What are you doing, you big goofball?" You asked softly with a smile, continuing to wash the dishes as if it was no big deal. Goob doing things like this were already very common for you anyway.

"Enjoying the beautiful view up close. You always manage to look beautiful doing anything… not fair." Goob spoke softly, resting his cheek against your shoulder, seeming to stop and watch you.

You hummed softly at the words, turning your head and giving him a smile.

"Well, I'm sure you don't have to try either, since you're absolutely adorable just the way you are." You said with a smile, giving Goob a kiss on the forehead and then turning to continue washing the dishes, feeling his arms loose around your waist.

"Goob? Are you okay?—" You tried to ask, but when you looked in his direction, he was already walking out the kitchen door, leaving you with a confused face wondering what had happened.

Goob had his back leaning against the wall as he covered his extremely flushed face with both of his hands, thinking about your sweet words and how you had kissed his forehead.

"Ughh… am I that bad at this?" Goob spoke in an embarrassed tone to himself, trying to keep the thought of your lips away as he walked away from the kitchen.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Day after day, Goob tried to flirt with you, trying to make you blush with the hope that you would fall in love with him.

But of course… you never seemed to notice his efforts.

Poor Goob, poor toon boy in love with (Y/n) who doesn't despise him, but is just very oblivious to the cute little craft's loving actions.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

You and Goob were drawing and doing arts and crafts together in his and Scraps' room, while his sister was too busy helping Brightney to join in on your little art session.

You were drawing with crayons while Goob seemed to be making something using colored pieces of paper, scissors, and crayons.

You were so distracted by drawing your drawing that you didn't even notice Goob approaching you, finally gaining your attention when he softly touched your shoulder and quickly hid something behind his back.

"Yeah, Goob? Do you need anything, buddy?" You asked softly with a smile on your face.

Goob seemed to swallow hard, giving you a small nervous smile with flushed cheeks before taking out what he had hidden behind his back, finally revealing a large colorful heart cutout that seemed to have a small message written in crayon in the center.

"For me?" You asked curiously, only earning a small nod from him, who just pushed the card a little further towards you for you to take, which you did, taking the card carefully and starting to read.

On the card was written:

"Are you an artist? Because you're really good at drawing me in."

"Awwww! That's adorable, Goob! You're such a cutie pie!" You exclaimed with a big smile, going towards him and giving him a big hug, which he froze, but soon hugged back slowly, giving a small soft sigh, giving a little smile.

"Someday... maybe…" Goob whispered to himself, burying his face against you head as you rested your face against his chest.

Maybe someday he'll be able to make you realize his feelings for you…

Until then, let's keep drawing with crayons and making origami hearts together. <3

#dandy's world x reader #dandys world x reader #dw goob x reader #dandys world goob x reader #dandy's world goob x reader #dw goob #dandys world goob

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mylovelies-docx · 2 years ago

Text

Love Bites (But So Do I)

🎃 HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ALL MY SPOOKY, HORNY BITCHES 🎃

I'm finally participating in Kinktober, but it's literally the last day and it's whatever the fuck I wanted to write.

Pairing: Innocent!Vampire!Reader x Werewolf!Bucky

Plot: Reader is suffering from hunger pangs due to national blood shortage. Bucky offers a solution.

C/W: 18+ MDNI!!! (I am so for serious). Loss of virginity, age gap (Reader is late 20's), what’s the name for blood drinking?, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex, slight dom/sub, knotting, cock-warming, fluff, resolution of mutual pining.

Vampirism is cool and all, but it also fucking sucks sometimes.

Like during a national blood shortage.

You’d been turned only a couple of years ago around the time of your 25th birthday. You can’t quite recall what happened, as everything around the event is distorted in your memories. All you know is that you were on a mission with some of the other Avengers one second, and then the next you were lying in the med bay with an intense craving for blood.

Everyone was surprisingly accepting of your new ‘condition’, with the exception of one person.

Bucky.

Bucky wasn’t on the mission where you were turned into a vampire, so he had no idea what he was walking in on when he stopped by to visit you in the med bay. You distinctly remember the look of worry and confusion on his face when he peered through the window and saw you strapped down onto the bed. You’d given him a forced, awkward smile and turned your head away, not able to look him in the eye.

You heard the door to your room click open and Bucky began to call your name, but then he inhaled sharply, unable to finish his question. You turned your head slightly and peeked back at him. You could tell immediately that Bucky’s werewolf senses had picked up on the change in your DNA, his instincts telling him that you were now his enemy.

You leaned your head back against the bed and closed your eyes, devastated that Bucky hated you before you could even have a proper conversation with him. You’d been on the team for a few months at that point, only really developing surface level friendships with everyone. They were all welcoming enough, but your anxieties prevented you from letting anyone in.

With your eyes closed, your other senses were able to accommodate for the loss of sight. The gust of wind from Bucky opening the door rushed up your nose, and a heady, intoxicating scent lit up your brain. Your eyes popped open and you stared at Bucky, noticing his heavy breathing and his pulse pounding against the arteries in his neck. Your mouth watered at the smell of him, divine and irresistible in a way that no one else had been up to that point.

A choked keening had erupted from your throat, your wrists and ankles straining against the bonds holding you down. You twisted and pulled, trying to break free and make a run for Bucky, but he’d immediately sensed your desire to drink his blood. A shutter fell into place over Bucky’s face, masking any expression that might have been there. He sucked in one final deep breath and slammed the door to your room, storming down the hallway and away from you.

As soon as you could no longer detect Bucky’s scent in the air, your mind cleared somewhat and you were able to realize just how out of control you had acted and how embarrassed you were at your actions. But you were also unable to stop imagining running after him and sinking your teeth deep into the flesh of his throat.

Slamming your head a few times onto the bed underneath you, you cursed yourself. Bucky barely even liked you before, but now he probably despised you – not just for what you were, but for how you acted, as well. You’d gotten off on the wrong foot with him to start, but then you’d stumbled hard and crossed a line by almost ripping your arms to pieces in order to get to him.

You’d never been able to look people in the face or hold eye contact for very long, but it’s especially true when it comes to Bucky. You’re not exactly sure why it is that your heart races and butterflies fill your stomach, but the feelings bubble up and prevent you from speaking and make you uncomfortable in your own skin. This happens every time you meet someone new or are with people you don’t really know, but the sensations that flood your body when Bucky is around are 100x worse than anything you’d felt for anyone before.

You’d realized in that hospital bed that whatever you’d felt for Bucky prior to becoming a vampire had changed, had become almost unbearable. His scent never left your thoughts and your mind always drifted off to think about Bucky: what he was doing, where he was, who he was with. Your eyes would darken and turn red, fangs lengthening when you imagined him with anyone other than you.

It’d taken you weeks to recover your sanity completely. You’d drained bag after bag after bag of blood, never feeling completely satiated, but unable to find out why. Some members of the team visited in those weeks to determine if you were safe to be around, and although the aroma of their blood wafted through the air and surrounded you, you never reacted to any of them the way you had to Bucky that first day. Dr. Cho had decided that you were no longer a threat after your successes, so she’d allowed you out of your restraints. You were finally able to walk the halls again and explore the compound.

Though the sunlight wouldn’t kill you (discovered during Dr. Cho’s studies), your skin would prickle and start to burn after prolonged exposure, so you tended to avoid the daylight. You’d wander the halls after everyone had turned in for the night, lamenting the fact that you could really only spend the evenings with them all before they needed to sleep.

You’d catch whiffs of Bucky as you stalked the night, your pulse racing and endorphins fizzing through your veins, but he never appeared. Bucky kept his distance from you for nearly a full year after you’d nearly attacked him. You couldn’t blame him. He’d been tortured enough in his life, he didn’t need the added stress of you trying to suck him dry every time he entered the same room as you.

It took some time, but you were finally able to cohabitate the same spaces with him again. Even though your mouth watered and your hands longed to reach out and grab him, you refrained. You kept yourself distant in order to make him more comfortable with your presence even though nature meant for your two species to hate each other.

You understood why Bucky had such a vehement reaction when he smelled you for the first time after your transition; walking the streets of New York, you’d catch of whiff of wet dog and dirty sock, immediately identifying werewolves as they prowled the streets, their stench clinging to your nostrils and turning your stomach. You’d grimace and walk away as fast as you could in search of clean air not polluted with the presence of werewolves. If grody socks and dirty mongrel was what you perceived werewolves to smell like, you can’t imagine what Bucky must smell emanating from you.

The only thing that doesn’t make sense is that you’d never found Bucky’s scent displeasing: in fact, the fresh, pine scent drove you crazy and had your body begging to be near him despite knowing that he’s a werewolf. You feel insatiable whenever he’s around, needing to consume blood soon after in order to calm the raging hunger within you.

Your mouth waters at the thought of the hot liquid filling your mouth and sliding down your throat, warming your insides and sending shivers all the way down to your toes. It’d been nearly a full day since you’d last tasted the savory red substance.

A nation-wide disaster the Avengers had handled yesterday required the hospitals to use up most of their stores of blood, leaving you feeling guilty for even thinking about taking the life-saving liquid for your own benefit. All the Avengers were out celebrating a job well-done and the prevention of more death and destruction that would have occurred had you all not been there to help.

The fight yesterday had taken everything out of you, and you were unable to drag yourself from the couch where you had collapsed earlier in the day. Your head is spinning and your muscles are weak from the lack of blood in your system. Some of the others had offered you their blood to help you feel better, but you’d declined and told them to go out and donate it to one of the blood banks that were in desperate need.

You’d never drank directly from a person in the years since you’d become a vampire, choosing instead to avoid the intimacy that must come along with the action. Holding someone’s wrist in your hands as you clamp down on their radial artery, nuzzling your face into the crook of their neck and sucking a mark around the two perfect puncture holes from your fangs – it just felt overwhelming.

And besides, the only person you could even imagine suckling from was Bucky and he’d never offer you his blood, regardless of whether it was in a bag or straight from the source.

You groan as your stomach contracts in on itself, the emptiness feeling as if there’s a black hole inside of you and you’re going to be consumed from the inside out. You feel foolish for turning your friends’ offers away, but there’s no way you’d have kept them from enjoying themselves after everything they went through yesterday. You can only hope that Dr. Cho is able to procure something for you in the morning or else create some alternative to the human blood that sustains your life force.

You’re curled in the fetal position on the couch, clutching your stomach and trying to think of anything else besides this nauseating hunger you feel. Your eyes squeeze tightly shut and your face scrunches in agony. You moan once more, unable to hold it in.

All of a sudden, your senses detect the presence of another person in the compound – a door in the residential wing swishing open and the pad, pad, pad of socked feet walking towards you. The sweet, fresh smell of a pine forest after a spring shower wraps around you, easing the pain enough for you to open your eyes and witness Bucky walk into the living room and find you lying there. His face contorts momentarily, but then smooths back out.

“Y/N?” he questions. You whine at the timbre of his voice, the rich sound penetrating your eardrums and burrowing into your veins. “What’s wrong?”

You wince as another hunger pang claws through your gut. “I’m –” you whisper hoarsely. “I’m hungry. So hungry.”

“Hungry?” he asks. “What about the blood you keep in stock?” Bucky walks over to the hospital-grade equipment in the kitchen behind you, looking for a blood bag you know isn’t there. You hear him open and close the door, quickly ascertaining that there is nothing to be found within. Bucky quickly walks back over to you and crouches a few feet from the couch. “Where did it all go?”

A red-tinted tear falls from your lower lashes, leaving a pink streak along your cheek. “The… the civilians,” you murmur quietly. Even with Bucky’s enhanced hearing, he has to lean closer to hear what you say. “They n-needed it more th-than me.”

“Shit,” Bucky mutters under his breath. A determined look comes over his face as he rolls up his sleeve. He holds his wrist in front of your mouth and barks out a command. “Drink.”

You barely find the strength to shake your head at him in refusal. “No,” you whine. “I’ve never… I can’t…”

“Yes,” he growls, “you can. And you will.” Bucky stretches his mouth wide and rolls his head on his neck, transforming his normal human teeth into the incisors of a wolf. He bites down onto the center of his wrist, tearing open his vein and shoving it back in your face. “Drink.”

Your bloodlust overtakes you at that moment. The warm, coppery blood seeps down his wrist and beads onto the sofa beside your head. Your hands move of their own accord, your mind fighting a losing battle with your instincts. You grasp Bucky’s wrist and wrap your parched lips around the gaping wound. You lick and suck where Bucky’s teeth had torn apart his own flesh. At the taste of Bucky’s blood hitting your tongue after years of craving it, a pleasured whimper crawls up your throat and forces its way between your parted lips against his flesh.

Buck’s metal arm reaches around and cups the back of your head, holding you in place as you continue to feed from him. “That’s right, doll,” he says. “Take as much as you need.” You feel the cold pressure of his hand as he strokes your hair away from your face. “Fuck. Been waiting for this. For you.”

The words send a shiver through you and you would have happily stayed right where you were for the rest of eternity, but the mouthfuls of blood have quickly turned into a trickle. You whine at the realization, running your tongue over Bucky’s wrist to confirm that his wound is healing too rapidly for you to continue drinking. You cry and raise your eyes up to Bucky’s, tasting his blood that had dribbled down your chin as you lick your lips.

“It’s –” you try. “You’re not…”

Bucky curses once again. “I heal too fast and the vein is too small for the amount of blood you need.”

He takes a hair tie from his pocket and quickly runs his fingers through his hair, gathering it all into a bun at the back of his head. Bucky rises swiftly and picks your body up into his arms. He cradles you against his chest as he settles quickly on the couch and places you in his lap. He circles one arm around your back to hold you upright and uses his other to guide your mouth to his throat.

“Bite,” he commands.

You whimper at the authority in his voice, but shake your head. “I’m okay,” you plead. “I – I don’t know how –”

“It’s instinct,” he replies harshly. “You do know how.” He takes your head and pushes your face further into his neck. “Bite me. Now, Y/N!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you cry, resting your forehead against his skin and struggling to maintain the hold you have on your sanity when Bucky’s pulse is thrumming just under his skin. It’s right there. So close you can hear the blood as it rushes through his veins. This is the closest you’ve ever been to Bucky and his scent is beginning to drive you insane. You pant heavily against his throat, exhausting yourself from the effort of holding back.

Bucky releases a sigh and a sliver of tension leaves his muscles. The hand against your back strokes up and down, settling your body as it shivers against his.

“You won’t hurt me,” he says. “If I use my claws, the cut will be too big and I'll bleed too fast. Your teeth are so small, I won’t even feel them,” he soothes.

You hesitate for a moment before saying, “... you promise?”

“I promise, baby,” he hums.

The softness of his words is all it takes to tear down your defenses. You suck in a breath and bare your fangs. They sink into the skin right above his jugular and you feel the slight pop as you pierce its wall. Blood gushes into your mouth and you feel something inside you pop open just like Bucky’s vein.

All of the sudden, you become acutely aware of everything Bucky.

The rhythm of his heart as it pumps blood through his body and into yours, his breaths as they leave his mouth, the sounds he makes as you suckle at his neck – as if he’s enjoying every second of having your lips at his throat and sucking the blood as it floods into your mouth in time to the pulse of his heart. You can feel your own heart race to match his, beat for beat.

You moan at the sensation and pull harder against Bucky’s neck. Needing to be closer, you swing a leg over his lap to straddle him, hooking one arm around his shoulder and the other around the back of his head. You feel Bucky’s hands grasp your hips as he holds you tight to his body.

Involuntarily you roll your hips against him, rubbing your covered core over the bulge in his jeans. The action elicits a groan from Bucky and the contact sends an electric current through your body, forcing your hips to seek more friction. You continue to grind against Bucky’s crotch, your panties becoming soaked and leaking through your shorts and onto his jeans.

You continue to draw from Bucky’s neck as he begins to thrust against you in response to your motions. You moan at the extra pressure against your mound and work harder to match his rhythm.

“Fuck yeah, baby,” Bucky groans. “Using me so well to work that sweet little clit.” You whimper against his neck and brace one arm on the back of the couch, gaining leverage and moving your hips faster against him. “You gonna cum like this, darlin’?” He pants into your ear. “Gonna cum when I haven’t even touched you yet?”

At his words, you release your fangs from his throat and take big, heaving breaths. You pull away and stare down into Bucky’s eyes, his pupils dilated and staring deep into your own. You lean down quickly, capturing his lips with your own like you’ve dreamed of doing for so long. Bucky returns the kiss feverishly, working his tongue between your lips and delving into your mouth. You continue to grind yourself against Bucky until you’re nearly delirious with lust and feel a tight knot forming between your legs.

Bucky’s fingers snake between your bodies and pull the fabric of your shorts and panties aside so that he can run his fingers along your soaking slit.

“What a good girl,” he growls. “Already so wet for me.”

He nudges one finger at your entrance and you keen at the pressure of his thick finger trying to enter you. You huff against his mouth, trying to relax and allow his finger entry.

“’s okay, sweetheart,” he breathes against your throat as he trails wet kisses from your lips down to your shoulders. “’m not gonna hurt ya.”

You nod your head feverishly and lean backwards, changing the angle of your hips so that his finger has more access. It slips inside and your pussy clenches hard around it, not used to anything filling you so full. You cry out in pleasure as he crooks his finger against your walls with what little room he has.

“Goddamn, you’re so tight,” he huffs. “Have you not done this before?” Bucky questions you, using his free hand to pull your face back towards his so that he can kiss you once before letting you respond.

You shake your head no and cry out again as he withdraws his finger and plunges it back into you. He continues to massage your walls while he pulls his finger in and out, in and out.

“Then is this okay, baby? Do you like this?”

“Yes! Yes, Bucky! I – I love this.”

He sucks your bottom lips between his teeth and holds it there for a second before letting go. “Let me see how much you love it, Y/N. Come on, cum for me.”

“Uh, ah, I’ve never –” you half confess before stopping yourself by biting your lip and throwing your head backwards.

“You tellin’ me you’ve never let yourself orgasm, pretty girl?” he asks you. “What a tragedy,” he growls against your neck, finger still working between your legs as he slowly tries to fit another one inside you.

“Unh,” you whine in time with his finger thrusts, feeling the stretch of your hole as the slick from your core coats his hand and allows his second finger entry. You gasp at the sensation of his two thick fingers inside of you and the heel of his hand against your clit. The knot in your stomach feels as if it’s stretching as tight as it can go, pulling and straining to be undone. You work your hips in time with Bucky’s hand, trying to get him deeper inside you where your body screams for more.

“But don’t worry,” he whispers against your ear. “I’ll take care of that right now.”

Bucky’s other hand comes up and pinches your erect nippled through your shirt. The sharp sizzle of pain morphs into pleasure as he surges through your nerves and rips the knot in your core apart. Your hips freeze and your knees lock tight against Bucky’s hips, every muscle in your abdomen clenching and your walls bearing down on Bucky’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl,” he breathes. “Look at you cumming all over my hand.” His words send another blade of pleasure to your core and you squeeze his fingers tighter. “You like when I talk to you, baby?” Bucky asks. “You like when I tell you you’re a good girl?” Bucky chuckles at the realization that his words cause your pussy to work his fingers harder.

“Does my sweet, pretty girl want to cum on my cock?” He wonders, tracing a finger down the side of your face and then slipping it into your mouth. You instinctively suck on his digit, lathing your tongue around the tip. Bucky sucks in a sharp breath when you nip at his finger with one of your fangs.

“Dirty girl,” he teases as he takes his finger from your mouth. He grabs your chin and looks into your eyes again. “Will you let me fuck that tight little pussy of yours?”

You moan and nod your head. “Yes! Yes, Bucky – please!” you cry out.

With a wolfish grin, Bucky grabs the back of your thighs and holds you up as he carries you out of the living room and towards his bedroom. You notice two little pinpricks of blood where your fangs had been earlier, the skin already healing over. You lower your mouth back to Bucky’s throat and lick his skin clean. Bucky bounces you in his arms and kisses your lips forcefully as he finally arrives at his room.

He crawls with you up the bed until your head is nestled on his pillows and his body covers yours completely. The warmth of him encompasses you and his scent surrounds you where it pours from his sheets and clothing scattered around the room. Bucky’s bedroom smells just like him, like being sheltered by a grove of pine trees as the sun rises in the sky after a long, dark night.

Bucky slides his hands under your shirt and pushes it up your chest, kissing your breasts as they’re exposed. You hum at the warm, wet kisses he places on your nipples before he pulls the shirt over your head and up your arms. Next, he kisses your lips and slowly makes his way down your body, leaving a trail of warmth in the wake of his lips as he reaches the waistband of your shorts.

His fingers curl around the elastic and tug them down, down, down, your legs. Bucky sits back on his haunches, your shorts and panties dangling from the end of his fingers. You reach to cover yourself with your hands, never having had anyone look at your naked body before.

His glacier blue eyes lock onto yours and freeze you in place. Bucky shakes his head once, telling you to stop hiding yourself from him. You slowly pull your hands away, not exactly sure what to do with them now that they don’t have a purpose.

Bucky hums in content at seeing your naked body lying on his bed, wet and ready for him. He slides backwards off the bed, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. Your face heats as he whips his shirt over his head, exposing his solid chest and torso. He reaches for the button of his jeans and slowly undoes the fastenings. He watches your eyes widen when his cock springs free, finally relieved of its confinement.

You can’t take your eyes away from Bucky’s dick as it stands at attention, the pink tip weeping liquid. You quickly glance up at Bucky’s face, and see amusement flicker in his eyes.

“I don’t th-think…” you stammer.

“Oh,” Bucky rumbles. “It’ll fit.”

Bucky positions himself on top of your body again, pulling your legs apart so that he can nestle his hips between yours. You feel as his warm, hard length rests between your lower lips and up onto your mound. He’s so big that you could wrap both hands around him and there would still be leftovers. You swallow hard and look up into Bucky’s eyes as he hovers over you.

“Are you sure?”

He leans down and presses a hard kiss to your lips. “I’m sure.”

Bucky guides his tip to your entrance, coating the head with your juices. He slides it up and down your slit, notching it against your clit and sending shocks to your core. You slowly bring your knees up and wrap your feet around the small of Bucky’s back, reaching your hands to grab onto Bucky’s metal wrist where he has it placed above your head. You look into his eyes as a smile graces his lips.

“Good girl,” he praises. Your body shivers at the compliment and you smile shyly back at him. Bucky takes the head of his cock and slowly notches it into you, pausing at your gasp of air. “Relax, doll,” he says as he leans down to kiss you. You melt into the kiss, allowing your legs to relax slightly and your walls to open enough for Bucky to slide in a couple of inches.

His cock is thicker and longer than his fingers and your body is unsure what to do with so much of it inside you. You whine against Bucky’s lips, the stretch and pressure unfamiliar.

“It’s okay, baby; you can take me.”

You nod and consciously relax your pelvic floor, imaging the muscles loosening up and allowing Bucky inside. You can feel the effects immediately, Bucky’s hips closing the gap and the tip of his cock lodging deep inside you, the notched head putting pressure against a point inside you that forces all the air to leave your lungs. You suck in a sharp breath as Bucky fully sheaths himself inside you, barely believing that his entire length rests within your walls.

“That’s it, doll,” Bucky commends your efforts. “Told you you could do it.”

You smile at him earnestly, proud of yourself for taking all of him inside of you at once. He brings his flesh hand up to your face and pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb. “I’m gonna move now, okay? You ready?”

“Yes,” you breathe. Your heart pounds in your chest as Bucky slowly slides from you until he’s almost completely out. Then, in one smooth motion, he presses back inside, the head rubbing against the spot that made you lose your breath when he entered the first time. You stare into each other’s eyes as Bucky continues to rock into you, his hips meeting yours with every press forward.

You can’t help but sigh at the sweet pleasure that builds from Bucky’s measured pace. You unwind one hand from Bucky’s metal wrist and reach for his face, closing your eyes and capturing his lips in an ardent kiss. The feeling of him moving inside you is nice, the coil from earlier returning to its place inside your core.

You cry out suddenly when Bucky’s next thrust enters you with more force than his previous ones. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, seeing the heat of your cheeks spread down your neck. He smirks and slams into you again, harder. Your eyes widen and your breath rushes out with the thrusts, your walls constricting around him with the repeated motion.

“You like that?” he questions, thrusting hard into you again. You gasp when he picks up speed and force, slamming into you over and over again. “I said: do you like that? Answer me.”

“Uh”-thrust-“huh”-thrust- you answer, your affirmation being knocked out of you as Bucky slams into your core. The rapid, harsh thrusts have the ridges and veins of Bucky’s cock sliding against your walls, and you can feel every single one of them tightening the coil inside of you until it is stretched tight once again. Bucky continues to thrust, taking you higher and higher and higher until there’s no room left inside of you that your emotions seep from your eyes, your pink-tinged tears from pleasure rather than pain this time.

You gasp for breath repeatedly, listening to the wet sounds of Bucky thrusting in and out of you, the moans and muttered praises falling from his lips.

“So good for me.”

“You take me so well.”

“Look at you, crying over my cock because it’s making a mess of your sweet little cunt.”

The praise sends you soaring, you can’t help but whimper and sob into Bucky’s mouth as he keeps his face close to yours, making sure that you like everything he does to your body, monitoring your cries of pleasure to make sure he’s doing the best he can.

The coil begins to fray and snap. You begin to tense up, the sensations becoming too much.

“I think,” you moan, “I’m gonna…!”

Before your body completely lets go, you feel Bucky snarl into your neck and bite down hard with his incisors. You feel a flood of endorphins rush from Bucky’s mouth and travel through your body, pooling in your core and lighting the coil on fire. You cum hard on Bucky’s cock, liquid gushing from you. Your mind goes completely blank as your body shudders and shakes against Bucky’s, your pussy sucking him in as if it will never let him go. Buck retracts his teeth from the mark on your neck, licking his tongue over the puncture wounds.

“Oh, fuck yes, baby girl. Look what I did to you – no one else will ever make you squirt like I do. No one will ever touch you. You’re mine, baby. No one else’s. I’m never letting you go.”

You stare down in enraptured surprise as you feel Bucky’s cock suddenly swelling inside you, locking him in place. He’s buried to the hilt and you feel a bulging just inside your entrance, preventing him from thrusting any more. Bucky groans loudly in your ear and you feel warmth and extra pressure against your walls, filling you to the brim with Bucky’s cum.

Bucky leans down and nuzzles into your neck, placing tired kisses against where he’d bitten you. “Mine,” he growls. “Say it. Tell me you’re mine,” he commands.

Your eyes drift closed as the after effects of your orgasms and Bucky’s mark leave you breathless and blissed out. “Yours,” you murmur. “Always.”

Bucky flips you both over, his knot keeping you firmly locked together, unable to separate even if you wanted to (which you don’t). He lays you gently on his chest and holds your face in both of his hands. He wants you to look at him, but your eyes are so heavy that you can barely lift them.

You hear Bucky’s low voice as you drift off to sleep, but the words don’t make any sense.

“My mate.”

***

Your eyes snap open at the feel of soft lips against your forehead, then your nose, then eyelids and cheeks, and finally against your own lips.

You pull away immediately, hands covering your mouth in absolute horror. The previous night comes rushing back to you when you sense the heaviness of a mark on your neck and the aching pulse between your legs. Bucky looks up from where he lays beneath you, his expression turning puzzled and then quickly alarmed at your words.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m sorry, Bucky. I didn’t mean to. I can’t believe –” you gasp out, placing your hands over your entire face and scrambling away in embarrassment. “I don’t know what came over me. I told you. I’ve never done that before, I didn’t know that would happen. I – I must have hypnotized you or something!” you cry out. “I didn’t know that was something I could do! I'm so sorry. I never should have –”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he calls, rushing to sit up and pull your hands away from your face, tilting your chin up until you’re looking at him. There’s a tender look on his face that you’ve never seen before, as if he’s dropped all of his walls with you. Your heart shatters at the realization that you’ve made him do things he never wanted to.

His eyes soften, almost as if he could understand your thoughts just by looking into your eyes. He tries to get you to calm down, to regulate your breathing by taking in deep breaths of his own, but you’re too full of anxiety and self-loathing for it to work.

“It’s okay,” he consoles you. “We didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“How is that possible?” you sob helplessly, trying your best to divert your gaze from his. “You don’t even like me. You’ve never liked me and especially not after I became a vampire. I mean, you’re a werewolf! You hate me. You couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as me for a year.”

“Shhh,” Bucky soothes. “When did I ever say I hated you?”

Your brows furrow in confusion, your breaths continuing to heave in and out of your chest, but your heart somehow calms of its own accord. You feel its beat echoing around you and you realize that Bucky’s heartbeat is working to calm yours, his eyes peering into your own while his hands rub up and down your arms in a soothing motion. “I – we’re enemies,” you say quietly. “Vampires and werewolves have always hated each other.”

“Do you hate me?” he questions, turning your face so that you’re looking at him once again.

You hesitate for a moment before shaking your head softly. “No.”

“And I don’t hate you,” he states, raising a hand and softly stroking your hair.

“But you…?” You try to make sense of what Bucky’s saying. “You can’t stand me. You avoided me after – after I…”

“Because I didn’t want to scare you,” Bucky murmurs. “I knew that if I was around you, I would do something I would regret.”

“...like kill me?” you wonder.

Bucky’s lip quirk into a small smile and he chuckles at your question. “No, Y/N. Not kill you.”

“Then what…?”

“After you were turned,” Bucky begins. He pulls his hand from you and clasps your hands within his, gently stroking your skin with his thumbs. You watch, entranced, as his fingers move over your skin. “I realized something as soon as I walked into your room in the med bay and scented you for the first time.” He tugs on your hands until you look up into his face. He smiles softly down at you with a look of pure adoration and love. “You’re my mate, Y/N.”

You stare at him in confusion. There’s no way – that’s not possible. “How… How is that possible? Are you sure I didn’t hypnotize you into thinking that?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and laughs. “You didn’t hypnotize me – that’s not real, and you know it.” He moves one hand to your throat, where he caresses his bite mark on your skin with his thumb. “I don’t know how it happened or why the universe saw fit to bind us together, but it did.” Bucky bends his head and smiles ruefully at you as he continues. “I knew you were going to be special to me the first time we ever met, but you were so quiet and you avoided me like the plague, so I thought you were afraid of me.”

You feel the anguish coming from Bucky as he thinks back on how you treated him these last couple of years. How your inability to meet his eyes or hold a conversation with him led him to believe that you were frightened to be near him, frightened of him.

You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on your folded arms. You glance away and say softly, “I’m… I’m not good with people. Sometimes it’s okay, but others… it’s like I forget how to talk to people.” You flicker your eyes to his quickly, but look away just as fast. You raise your fingers to your lips and rub back and forth, a nervous habit you’ve had for years. “If…if I… like someone. It makes it worse.”

“And that’s why you wouldn’t talk to me?” Bucky questions, pulling your hand from your mouth and placing a kiss on the center of your palm.Your face flushes and a small smile flits to your face. You nod your head while looking down at your knees.

“Well,” he says, “I like you,too.” You raise your eyes to see a smile lighting up his face and brightening his eyes. “I always have.”

“You do?” you ask, checking to be sure that Bucky isn’t just saying these things because you slept together after feeding from him. “It’s not because of what I did last night?”

“No, sugar,” he replies. “I’ve wanted to be with you this whole time.” You watch his eyes scan your face, watching your reactions and feeling your emotions through your new bond. “Do you want to be with me? I wasn’t going to mark you without asking first, but my instincts wouldn’t allow you to be so close without claiming you.”

You shyly pull your hair over your shoulder where Bucky’s mark resides. You worry a strand between your hands and look up into his eyes. “I… I like it,” you confess, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest at your bold words.

“Good,” Bucky states. He leans into you and brushes your hair back away from your shoulder, exposing your mark and placing a tender peck against the raised edges. “Because you’re mine.”

You nod and tilt your head to the side, allowing Bucky to trail his lips up and down your throat before he makes his way to your lips. He kisses you deeply, his tongue sliding into your mouth and meeting with yours. You hum and unfurl your body, climbing into his lap as his hands guide you into straddling his waist.

“I’m yours,” you agree.

“And I’m yours,” he echoes.

________________________________________

So I didn't have time to make the part 2 I was thinking about for this, but it was never a direct continuation anyway.

Hope you enjoyed! 🎃

#kinktober #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #smut #bucky barnes fic

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