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lucllle · 3 years ago

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Diluc Ragnivindr

CW; office sex(semi-public?)

You and Diluc had a certain… relationship. In the eyes of the public and most of the workers at Dawn Winery, you were nothing more than master and maid. However, there were a select few that knew that you two were lovers to an extent. You agreed to Diluc’s request of keeping your relationship a secret from the public, albeit reluctantly.

You knew it was for your best interest, but it was upsetting knowing that not a lot of people recognized that you were Diluc’s significant other. He made sure to make up for it when he could though, so it wasn’t too bad.

—------------------------------------------

You were called into Master Diluc’s office, to presumably clean and organize it. You pulled up the skirt of your dress up just a bit more than usual, and you “forgot” to put on your bra. You walked to where he resided, peeking your head in first to see who was inside. You saw the head maid, Adelinde, briefing Diluc on the usual house affairs, and asking what he’d like for his meals today.

You walked in quietly, bowing when Diluc glanced at you. He nodded in response, then glanced back at the Head Housemaid. You smiled a bit at him, but it quickly faded when Adelinde glanced at you.

“ Oh, it’s you. I suppose you could take it from here, yes? “ She turned to look at you, gesturing at the room. You nodded, hiding a smile.

“ Very well. Make sure to dust everything off. I’m going to run a few errands. Goodbye, Master Diluc. “ She bowed before leaving the room, closing the door behind her. You snickered a bit before walking over to his desk, sitting on the edge.

“ Greetings, Master. “ You swung your legs back and forth, turning your head to look at him. He sighed, leaning forward in his seat.

“ I’ve told you not to call me that when we’re alone. “ He laid his hand on top of one of yours, looking up at you tiredly.

“ I know, but your reactions are so irresistible. “ He grunted, sitting up straight before grabbing his quill. Despite the fact that you two were lovers, you still had some duties to carry out and prioritize. You hopped off the desk and started cleaning, but you noticed him occasionally glancing up at you.

Naturally, you decided to put on a show just for him. You pulled up your skirt just a bit more than you did before, bending over to pick something up off the ground. Your dress just barely covered your ass, the back of your thighs exposed to the redhead. He could tell you were teasing him, but he just watched for now.

You continued to tease him while you were cleaning, at one point completely flashing your panties to him. He clicked his tongue, and you turned to look at him.

“ Is something bothering you? “ You walked over to him, turning his chair to make him face you. You leaned forward, smiling at him. You noticed his gaze following your chest before he looked up to meet your gaze.

“ Don’t act as if you aren’t doing anything. “ He frowned at you, but you just tilted your head.

“ Well, of course I’m not doing nothing. I’m carrying out my duties as your maid. “ Diluc sighed before he gripped your waist, pulling you close in front of him.

“ I need you to carry out your duties as my lover first, Y/N. “ Your face flushed at this, your demeanor immediately changing. You took his face in your hand, leaning in to kiss his cheek. You took a seat on his lap, your legs hanging off the armrest. You wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling him grip your waist with his left hand.

“ What do you need me to do? “ He sighed a bit, looking down at the papers on his desk.

“ Keep me company while I finish my work, please. After that, we can do whatever we’d like… “ You perked up at this, smiling at him. You used one of your hands to travel down to his chest, eventually venturing lower to his stomach. Your hand rested there for a moment while you listened to Diluc’s breath growing unsteady. You placed a finger on his belt before you worked to unbuckle it.

“ Mm… I need to focus. “ He whispered to you quietly, but didn’t move to stop you.

“ Please? You won’t have to do anything, and your hands will be free. You just… focus on your work, hm? “ He looked over at you, and soon nodded. You pulled his belt off completely before you slipped off of his lap, and onto your knees in front of him. You rubbed his thighs with your hands, but you soon lifted one of your hands away. Instead, you palmed at his growing bulge, a grin growing on your face when you heard him gasp.

After teasing him a bit more, you decided to finally pull down his zipper, showing his erection through his boxers. You kissed it quickly before pulling his pants and boxers down just enough to pull out his length. Diluc glanced down at you, putting down his quill when you licked the underside of his base all the way up along a vein. You pulled away just before you touched his tip, staring at the precum that dripped from it.

“ I’ve barely even touched you, Diluc. “ You lifted your (left) hand and positioned your thumb, pointer, and middle finger above his tip. You rubbed them up and down the head of his cock, lathering it. He let out a shaky breath, which turned into a low moan when you rubbed his slit.

“ Oh, don’t mind me. You have important duties to carry out, after all. “ You wrapped your other hand around his shaft, creating a slow, languid pace with both your hands. You watched as Diluc sighed before picking his quill up again, signing his name on a paper. He continued his work while you did as well, but you eventually let go of him.

You lowered your head, pulling your hair behind your ears before peppering kisses on his cock. Eventually, you made it up to the head of his cock, and you put it into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks out while sucking on it, your tongue attacking his slit. He leaned back in his chair, moaning. You could feel him twitch, and you quickly pulled yourself off him with a wet ‘pop’. His eyes widened as he looked down at you, shocked at your audacity.

“ You- You can’t… “ He started mumbling, but you lapped at his tip to cut him off with one of his own moans.

“ Work comes first, right? “ He huffed a bit at your use of words, letting out what sounded like a whimper when you took more of him in your mouth this time. It wasn’t very often you had control of him like this, and you were definitely gonna get consequences, but that was part of what turned you on. You pulled off of him when he sat there staring at you, to which he grunted. “ Go on. You have paperwork to do, no? “

He sighed before leaning forward in his chair again, continuing his work. You proceeded to suck him off until he got close, moving to pull yourself off of his cock. You were surprised when you felt Diluc grip your hair rougher than usual, pulling you back down while he also thrusted up to meet your face. You gagged , gripping onto his thighs while he made shallow thrusts to ride out his orgasm. You felt the tip spurt out his cum deep in your throat while you struggled to swallow it all. You coughed when he finally slipped out of you, but any cum that left your mouth was scooped up by your fingers and swallowed.

“ You sit there while I finish my work, do you understand? “ He gave you a stern look, one that never failed to make you rub your thighs together. So, you obeyed, mostly because of him smacking your hands when you tried to grab his cock again. You noticed that his cock was hardening again, making you squeeze around nothing in anticipation.

Eventually, Diluc finished his work and let out a sigh, standing up. He quickly cleared his table off, and soon offered you his hand. You stood up, your legs just a bit shaky for a moment. Diluc pulled you against him by your waist, leaning forward to kiss your neck.

“ What you did… was so cruel. “ You wrapped your arms around his neck, one of your hands traveling to grip his hair. He lifted you to sit on his desk, his hands traveling under your skirt. He gripped the fat of your thigh, lifting your skirt up with his other hand. He moved to kiss you, and you desperately kissed back. He backed away, placing a hand on your stomach and pushing you down against the desk. You looked up at him, bringing your legs closer by instinct. Diluc tsked at this, grabbing your legs and prying them apart forcefully. He pulled you closer so your ass was barely on the surface, then proceeded to scrunch up the skirt of your dress so he could see your panties.

He used the pointer and middle finger of his left hand to circle your clit, watching your wetness stain your panties. You grabbed onto your skirt with one hand, resting the other against your forehead while you looked up at him.

“ Come on… touch me like you mean it, damnit. I’ve been waiting for this. “ You furrowed your eyebrows, upset that he wasn’t inside you already. He seemed to take a moment to process what you had said, but his face turned serious while he stared at you. Diluc leaned down, putting his hands beside your head.

“ I’m going to unravel you, and I’m gonna take my time doing so. Don’t rush me. “ You grumbled a bit, but Diluc interrupted you by biting your neck. “ But… I suppose I could indulge you. We are still in my office, after all. Did you prepare yourself before you came here? “ You could feel your face heat up when he called you out like this, but you nodded anyway. He smiled a bit, kissing your cheek before he stood back up in front of you.

You felt him tap his fingers on your pussy before he pulled your panties to the side, not waiting to put two fingers inside of you. You let out a muffled moan at the feeling, covering your mouth with your hand. He was upset that the two of you had no choice but to quiet down. He spared no time to start fingering you, curling his fingers inside of you while also scissoring them. You reached down to grab his wrist, the wet noises embarrassing you.

Diluc showed no mercy to you, though, simply smacking your hand away. He unbuttoned the part of your dress which clothed your chest, revealing your breasts. He began to fondle them while his fingers were still inside of you, listening to your muffled noises. Eventually, he pulled his fingers out of you just when you were about to finish. He cut you off before you could even complain, though.

“ Quiet. I’ll give you what you want, just make sure you don’t make too much noise… “ He grabbed the base of his cock, positioning the head at your pussy. He looked down at you with what seemed like a sadistic look, which confused you. It all made sense when he thrusted into you suddenly, immediately bottoming out. Your eyes welled up with tears, the stretch mixing pain with pleasure to the point where you couldn’t tell the difference between the two. Diluc kissed your face all over, making sure to comfort you. He soon pulled back, then pushed himself inside you again. He himself had to get used to how tight your walls felt around him, but it felt so good. If it weren’t for him having self control, he probably would’ve cum on the spot.

Once he made sure you weren’t actually hurting, he started thrusting. He kept his face hidden in the crook of your neck, rendering you able to hear his small moans and groans. He slid his right hand underneath you, pressing on the small of your back to put you at an angle. You clenched around him tightly as soon as you felt his tip kiss your cervix, feeling him reach impossibly deep places. You scratched at his back, gripping onto him desperately. He hissed when he felt you yank at your hair, biting down onto your skin. It didn’t take very long for you to finally reach your high, especially with Diluc starting to pinch your nipples. Your back arched while Diluc slowed his thrusts to help you ride out your orgasm. As soon as you had calmed down, though, he continued to thrust inside of you at an almost unbearable pace. He pulled away from you, grabbing your thighs from underneath to pull you closer. You hooked your legs around him by instinct, feeling him hit your g-spot. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head- you were practically delirious at this point.

As soon as you felt him still inside of you, your legs immediately trembled around Diluc. You squeezed him even after he finished, making sure that all of it was inside of you. He pulled out of you, staring down at you while you tried to catch your breath desperately. You were caught off guard when you felt him flip you over, thrusting into you again. You reached for the other end of the desk, sobbing out for him.

“ Shh… You don’t want the other maids hearing you, hm? Only I’m allowed to hear you cry like this. “ He grabbed your hips before he started pistoning himself into you over and over, his hips occasionally jerking from the overstimulation he was giving himself. It felt too good to stop, though. Once he had come to his senses for just a moment, he left you to lock the doors before continuing.

—----------------------------------

“D… Diluc, please- It’s so, so full… no more room. “ You pleaded with him, but you were ignored. The two of you both knew you didn’t want to stop, so he paid little mind to your begging.

“ You’re taking it so well. Just a few more, please? “ He turned your head so you could look at him, his expression immediately making you fold. You nodded quickly.

“ Okay… Just- Just a few- mnh! “ Diluc covered your mouth, the two of you remaining mostly still while you heard people outside the room nearby. Diluc grinded his hips against yours, making your eyes roll backward. Luckily, no one tried to come in, and no one heard the two of you once you continued. There were more than just “a few more” rounds, though.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin diluc #genshin impact #genshin impact diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnivindr smut #diluc smut #afab reader #female reader #diluc x y/n #diluc x fem!reader

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niskoo · 4 years ago

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[22:00]

pairing: bad boy! Heeseung x reader

genre: fluff, crack

warnings: consumptions of alcohol

word count: 1.1k words (again lol)

a/n: UDIJHFIUWJA WTF THIS IS MY SECOND TIME POSTING A BAD BOY! AU IN A ROW??? AND LITERLALY THE NEXT DAY AFTER THE JAKE ONE???? A FEW DAYS BEFORE FINALS???? im screwed haha

It’s 11 pm, you’ve arrived at the party at 9:30, and you’re already tipsy and exhausted. Heeseung scowls when he sees yet another random dude trying to give you a glass of alcohol.

He takes it from him instead, sending him a sharp glare and a fake grin, protectively pulling you to his side. Once the guy is gone, Heeseung passes the glass to Jay, who surprisingly is not tipsy at all.

“Hee!!” You giggle out, stumbling in his arms, “I feel wooooozzzyyyy!!!!” Heeseung can’t help but chuckle lightly at your funny actions, sliding his hand around your waist to stabilize you against him, “I know you do, babe.”

Sunghoon comes from the kitchen with a bag of chips, passing Heeseung his car keys. The older mutters a quick thanks, before starting to trudge and pull you to the door.

He doesn’t get to get you out the door, because you’re pulling back and pointing at the dance floor, “Heeseungg!! They’re playing my favorite songgg!!!!” You’ve said that to the past 4 songs he’s had to dance to with you.

“Babe, not right now, okay? Maybe next time?” Your boyfriend tries to convince you, but all you do is jump and point at the people dancing, “Look! Even Jungwon is dancing!! I haven’t danced with him yett!”

As much as Heeseung would love to see you hanging out and having fun with his own best friends, you’re way too drunk for your own good. Without even having to ask, Heeseung is squatting in front of you and grabbing the back of your thighs, hoisting you up to his back.

You simply wrap your arms around his shoulders and continue rambling something about the cat video Jungwon showed you the other day. He passes a bunch of random people, nodding respectfully and making sure to avoid anything peaking your interest around the house.

At last, he’s out the door, with you still mumbling random things on his shoulder. He reaches into his pocket to fish out the car keys to Sunghoon’s car he let him borrow, jogging down the street to unlock it. You two arrived with his motorcycle, and he’s not so sure if bringing you home with it is safe enough.

Heeseung carefully helps you into the passenger's seat, “Okayyy, up we go, into the car. Watch your head,” You don’t process anything, but you know where you are and where you’re going.

Heeseung tries to close your door as softly as he can so he doesn’t wake you up, before whistling and walking over to the driver's seat. He plops in comfortably, instantly turning the engine on. Before taking off, he glances at your tired form, chuckling at how worn out you look with your messy hair and droopy eyes.

Your boyfriend decides to reach over and pull the seat belt over your body, securing you safely. He sits back, and admires you and how you automatically pull your legs onto the seat and lean on the window.

Heeseung sighs, focuses on the road, and takes off to his apartment. He decides to turn the radio off, as it seemed to be disturbing your sleep.

A few minutes into the drive, Heeseung takes his left hand off the wheel, resting his arm on the armrest next to him. His eyes widen when there’s a sudden touch to his hand, your touch. Your hand drapes lazily over his, just barely connecting.

Shifting his hand, Heeseung places it on top of yours, his fingers slipping right through perfectly between yours. The gesture is soft, affectionate, it pulls straight to your heartstrings despite being drunk and tired. A smile spreads through your face as you play with his pinkie finger with your other hand.

You do this for the rest of the ride, too exhausted to even process that you’ve already pulled up into the parking lot of Heeseung’s apartment building. It’s when his hand pulls away from yours when you realize what’s happening.

The door to your seat is being opened, so you instantly reach your hands and legs out to Heeseung, “Carry me peasant! My legs are far too tired to hold myself up!” Your lover laughs at your silliness, but obliges to your request.

He locks the car, before starting to head for the elevator. You do nothing but hug Heeseung and once again snooze into his shoulder.

The ride up is short, after all it’s just 2 floors up. His apartment is just to the right, the first door. He’s quick to take his keys out and unlock the door before you slip out of his arms.

Heeseung shuts the door behind him, placing both the car keys and the apartment keys in the jar on the table right next to the door. “Okay baby, wake up,”

You feel the couch cushion below you, and instantly flop and bury your head in one of the corners, cradling a pillow to your chest.

Heeseung chuckles, you simply look too cute. “Honey, come on, let’s go to bed, yeah?” His hands find their way to your face, squishing them to bring you back to consciousness. You only grumble back in protest, furrowing your brows and shaking your head in objection.

Heeseung squishes your cheeks harder, “Come on, I can brush your hair for you while you brush your teeth, and I’ll let you use my favorite pink hoodie (FROM DANIEL AAAAA) for once, and we can cuddle too, and I can play with your hair just the way yo-“

“Shh, enough peasant. Take me there.”

Heeseung laughs loudly against your finger pressed to his lips, before looping his arms under your legs and body, “Yes, my Queen.”

He then hops up, surprising you as you lift off the couch. You scream and latch onto Heeseung with yells of how he should’ve warned you.

Throughout doing all the actions he mentioned before, you couldn’t help but soften at how loving Heeseung was, and how he always put your care first and his last, helping you do all your needs, helping you with your face care, even helping with putting your clothes on even if you’re completely capable of doing it despite being a bit tipsy.

Now here you are, laying in bed and waiting for Heeseung to join you to head to sleep, thinking of all the sweet things he’s done tonight. There’s a dip in the bed, before you feel the blanket being lifted and draped over your body.

Heeseung sighs into your neck, finally feeling the inner peace he wasn’t able to get at the party. He melts when he feels your fingers thread through his hair.

“Thank you.”

It’s a very sudden statement, but you don’t take it back, you truly mean it. Your boyfriend smiles and reaches out to hold your hand, “Anytime bub,”

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen heeseung #enhypen x reader #lee heeseung #lee heeseung imagines #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung scenarios #i land #lee seeseung fluff

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jaesqueso · 4 years ago

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Relax (m)

I do not own any rights on the above image (found on weheartit).

pairing: co-worker!taeyong x fem!reader

summary: You're feeling very stressed with work so Taeyong drops by to help you relax

word count: 1,618

warnings: oral sex (receiving), fingering, office smut

a/n: just because I have this crazy idea that Taeyong gives great head! (sue me) anyways, do give me some feedback please! ❤︎

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

Swamped. That’s how you’ve been feeling in your work for the past two weeks. One of your colleagues quit her job and left the company right as you two were about to finish a big project and since your boss was having trouble finding a replacement for her it was up to you to do all the work. On one hand it was better that you didn’t have to waste time explaining the whole project to someone new so close to the deadline, but on the other you could really use the extra help. These days you felt like you barely left the office, coming in early in the morning, leaving late at night, crashing in bed as soon as you get home.

Today was the worst day of all as you’ll have to present the project on the next day, and you felt like you still had so much to do, maybe this time you will actually have to stay the night and run home for a quick shower in the morning before the meeting.

Too focused on your computer screen and the papers scattered all over you desk you barely notice the knock on your door.

“Y/N?” You look up and see a head poking through the door.

“Mr Lee.” You greet Taeyong as he steps into your office, closing the door behind him. You look at the clock in your wall and realise it’s already an hour past your regular exit time.

“Another late night?” He worried looking at your tired eyes. “You really shouldn’t be doing this to yourself, you should go home and rest.”

“Oh I can’t…” you lower your head and rub your temples. “I still have so much to do, I’m not even sure I can finish it, I’m starting to second guess every single decision I’ve made so far…”

“Hey,” he moves closer to your desk, “You’re gonna do great, you always do.”

“What if this time I don’t?” You look up at him. “I don’t want to let everybody down…”

“You’re not going to,” he smiles gently as he continues “they put you in charge of this project because they trust you, so you should trust yourself too.”

“But what if I mess it up? I can’t lose that promotion…” you look back at your papers trying to refocus on your work. This project could be your way up in the company and you’ve been working so hard for it you can’t mess up now.

“Well, if it’s up to me you’ll still get it.” Taeyong is part of the management team, although he’s not directly your boss he will have a say in that promotion you are longing for, he’s even going to attend your presentation the following day along with the other members of the board. You two occasionally saw each other in the office making the typical co-worker small talk, but over the last two weeks you got a bit closer as he usually left the company later than everybody else and you pulling extra hours every day. He always made sure to walk you to your car, doing an effort to get to know you better. You weren’t sure about his intentions but you were keen to keep your relation as professional as possible as you didn’t want to cross any line and compromise your job. Yes, he is damn handsome, but you wouldn’t dare making a move. With time you realised that behind this cool and relaxed attitude he has on a daily basis, he is a very hard working man and got where he is through his blood sweat and tears. He quickly became someone you really admire.

“Well, I want to get it because I deserve it and I did a job, not because I persuaded the board.” You smile at him, quickly looking back to your computer.

“You mean you’ve let other managers walk you to your car too? And here I was thinking I’m special!” He pretends to be hurt and offended.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” You giggle. “But, by the away, you can just go ahead today as I’ll still be here for a while.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to take a break and relax?” He gets up and walks around your desk dragging his fingers through the borders. “I could help you out.”

“That’s very kind of you but you’re not even familiar with the project.” You keep typing on your keyboard.

“I’m not.” He walks behind your chair. “But I was actually talking about the relaxing part.”

“W-what?” You widen your eyes. He cannot mean what you think he means, you’re probably just too tired and mishearing things. “W-what do you mean-”

You stop talking as he places his hands on your shoulders giving you a soft massage. You close your eyes and slowly relax your shoulders, it feels like your are being touched by an angel. As he presses into your tension points you involuntarily let a moan slip through your lips. You open your eyes again trying to understand if he heard it.

“Does it feel that good?” Shit. You’re too embarrassed to even reply so he lowers his face next to your ear and whispers “Cause I can do even better.”

You feel the warmth of his lips against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine as his hands go down to your chest over your blouse, but you suddenly come to your senses and grab his hands stopping him from going down to your breasts.

“Mr Lee…” your voice is trembling.

“You know you can call me Taeyong out of office hours.” He rotates your chair so that you are facing him now. He kneels down in front of you and snakes a hand slowly up your skirt brushing his fingertips in the waistband of your underwear. Because you were rushing to get to work this morning you didn’t even bother to put on some tights.

“T-Taeyong…” your breathing got heavier. “This is wrong-”

“My name sounds lovely coming out of your mouth.” He stops you, slowly dragging your panties down your legs as you involuntarily lift up your hips. He then pulls you to the edge of the chair pushing up your skirt and exposing your cunt.

“We really shouldn’t do this-” you spoke these words but internally you were begging him to continue.

“I told you I’d help you relax, so don’t worry, just sit back and enjoy.” He smirks as he spreads your legs, eyes never leaving yours.

You open your mouth to say something but only gasp when he lowers his head blowing some air into your pussy realising you are already wet for him. He sticks out his tongue and takes an experimental lick. You drop your head back at the feeling. Happy with your reaction he starts sucking your clit. You clench your hands around the armrests of your chair biting your lip, too embarrassed to make a sound.

Your breathing gets heavier as he circles is tongue around your sensitive bud. You’re not sure where he got his technique from but the movements he’s making are getting you too hot too fast, it’s like he put a spell on you with his saliva mixing with your own juices.

You feel a finger teasingly brushing around you hole spreading your wetness. He then slowly pushes it inside never stopping the movements of his mouth. How does one have such coordination? As he starts pumping his finger in and out, you can no longer hold the moans trapped in your throat.

“That’s it baby, don’t hold back.” Taeyong leaves your clit only to encourage your sounds and then continues his service adding a second finger inside you.

Your moans get louder and your grip on the armrests gets tighter as you feel the orgasm build up inside you. You start to squirm around, pleasure getting too much to handle, so he wraps his free arm around your thighs holding you still. He realises you are getting close so he curls his fingers on your inner walls touching just the right place to send you over the edge.

You moan his name as you come undone, arching your back off the chair. He removes his fingers out of you but continues with his tongue to help you ride off your high. This was probably one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had in your life, no one ever ate you out like that.

As you come back to reality you ear a phone ringing. Not recognising the ringtone you assume it’s his. Taeyong gives your clit a last kiss and gets up removing his phone from his pants.

“What’s up?” He answers the phone putting his fingers that were just inside you on his mouth, cleaning them up looking straight into your eyes. “Sure, no problem. See ya.” He hangs up.

You then realise you are still sitting in your chair, skirt up, no panties, legs spread, your juices dripping out of you, looking like a real mess. You quickly sit up adjusting your skirt, too embarrassed to pick up your underwear from the floor.

“Well, I gotta getting going,” he says walking to the door, “but I hope you are feeling more relaxed now. If you ever need another one of those just let me know.” He winks and opens the door.

You gulp at the possibility of having his mouth pleasuring you like that again.

“Oh and by the way,” Taeyong looks back at you with a smirk before he’s about to close the door, “good luck on the presentation tomorrow, I know you’ll do great.”

Shit, the presentation!

#taeyong smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #gimme gimme feedback #thanks for reading

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dem-obscure-imagines · 4 years ago

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Spin the Bottle

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Fandom: Marvel/X-Men

Summary: A game of spin the bottle takes a turn when you give Warren the one thing he could have never asked for.

Note: I’m in love with one (1) birb boi. I would like to give him a smooch.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.1k

Reader is: Gender Neutral

It seemed inevitable, really, that at least one of the times your group of friends hung out was going to be the time it devolved into madness. It was because of Peter, mostly. Peter and Jubilee. They insisted it was only natural that at some point, all of you would play spin the bottle. And, despite the ridiculous amount of time Scott and Jean spent staring at each other and flirting, they weren’t together yet, so everyone in the group was, technically, single.

“It’ll be fun, you guys!” Jubilee said, finishing off a bottle of Orange Crush and setting it in the center of the coffee table in the living room the eight of you were sitting in.

You were situated on the couch between Ororo and Warren. Kurt was perched on the armrest to Warren’s right.

Warren crossed his arms and leaned back, chuckling to himself. Since he’d arrived at the school, he’d been working on slowly opening up, hanging out with the others. His wings, thanks to Hank and your healing abilities, had been reverted to their feathery variant, and he talked all the time about how much lighter he felt now without those heavy metal attachments dragging him down. You were just glad you could help him out. He still, however, had the tattoos Apocalypse had given him.

Kurt told you once that he’d found Warren in the bathroom crying and trying to scrub them off, but they wouldn’t budge. It seemed he was stuck with one reminder of his time as a horseman, no matter how badly he’d like to get rid of them.

“Alright, fine, let’s do this.” You chuckled, crossing your legs. “Who’s first?”

“I’ll go first,” Peter offered, giving the bottle a good spin. It landed on Ororo, and they shared a brief kiss.

“You taste like Twinkies.” Ororo laughed when they pulled apart.

“You are what you eat,” Scott quipped, and Peter chuckled before zipping back to his spot. The game continued, causing Jubilee to kiss Kurt, Kurt to kiss Scott, Jean to kiss Ororo, and Scott to kiss Peter.

Then, finally, it was Warren’s turn.

He gave the bottle a gentle spin, sending it around and around a few times until it slowed. You swore you saw Jean squint for a second and then it stopped in front of you, the cap aimed straight at you. Your face flushed and your heart started racing. Of course. Of course it was Warren.

“Well, what are you two waiting for?” Peter asked.

You turned towards Warren and looked up at him. His face was reddening, too. He chuckled and looked at you with probably the softest look you’d ever seen in his eyes.

“Do you mind if I…?” He asked quietly, and you smiled, your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned in closer.

For a moment, he hovered there in front of your face, his warmth radiating onto your skin. His nose brushed against your cheek and then, softly, his lips met yours, kissing you tenderly. It wasn’t what you’d expected, but it was what you needed. The type of kiss that left your heart fluttering. His lips gently embraced yours and your hand wandered back into his soft blond curls. You felt him smile against you, his plush lips curling upwards.

You heard Jubilee gasp and remembered you were in the middle of the living room, surrounded by your friends, so you pulled away hesitantly, looking into his eyes to see if he was feeling the way you were. When you saw his face, however, your jaw dropped.

“What, was I that bad?” He asked, chuckling, but you could tell he was genuinely scared he’d let you down.

“You were great, but your…your tattoos are gone.” You said in disbelief, reaching up to trace where the intricate black lines had once been.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“Someone go grab a mirror.” Jubilee said, causing Peter to disappear for half a second before returning with a handheld mirror.

He gave it to Warren, who held it up to look for himself. Sure enough, the tattoos had disappeared. Warren stared at his reflection for a long time, turning his face, his fingers wandering up to graze the skin, as though they’d come back if he touched where they were supposed to be again.

“H-how did you do that?” He asked you, tears forming at the waterline of his green, green eyes.

“I didn’t know I could.” You admitted softly.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but wound up, instead, pulling you into his arms, tightly against his chest, his hand stroking your head. He was shaking as he whispered, his voice breaking, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, Warren.”

***

Once the shenanigans were over, you went back to the room you shared with Ororo, across the hall from Kurt and Warren’s and changed into your pajamas. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door and when you opened it, Warren was standing there, a sheepish look on his face.

“Hey.” You said, smiling at him. “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing good.” He grinned, chuckling. “Great, actually. Could I, uh, talk to you?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded and stepped outside your room, closing the door behind you and following him down the hallway and then eventually out into the courtyard under the stars.

Warren tentatively slipped his hand into yours and led you over to the fountain, where you both sat down, relishing in the quiet. He squeezed your hand, his thumb rubbing across the back of it.

“Thanks for earlier. Again.” He chuckled. “I didn’t mean to cry, I just…I hated those tattoos so much. I’m so glad they’re gone.”

“I’m glad I could help.” You told him, squeezing his hand back.

“You keep doing this amazing things for me and I don’t know how to say thank you.” He admitted.

“Hmm?”

“You saved my life that day in Cairo, even after I tried to…kill you…You helped me get my wings back, you erased my tattoos…” He sighed, staring at your hand in his. “How can I even begin to repay you for something like that…”

“You don’t have to repay me.” You told him, reaching up and tilting his head up so he was looking at you again. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

He looked at you for a long time, a smile finding his handsome features. He whispered, leaning in closer, “You make me so happy.”

You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “You make me really happy too.”

#warren worthington iii #warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington iii imagine #angel #angel x reader #angel imagine #archangel #archangel x reader #archangel imagine #xmen #xmen imagine

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faggottonystark · 2 years ago

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Ineed to distract myself until 11 so i can survive long enough to get lvjy merch. SO in the meantime. Immgonna share a snip it of a fic i started like last year about ctommy and cwilbur being at technos cabin alone post-cdream prison break AGHhaha. one day ill finished itttt

Tommy looks up immediately, following the noise only to find Wilbur toeing down the steps with an empty mug in hand. He turns to Tommy and raises an eyebrow, taking a very slurpy-sip from the mug. “Didn’t know you were up, man. Sleep well?”

Tommy sighs, resigning himself to sitting up on the couch and rests back against the armrest. He gives Wilbur a slight nod in reply and wraps his arms loosely around himself.

Wilbur cocks his head, briefly walking into the kitchen to sets his mug down on the counter before coming back out and crossing his legs on the floor across Tommy. He leans his arms folded over the coffee table, shutting his eyes. There weren’t many moments like this after the war. Even though Tommy was practically losing his head over Dream, he just– It’s been a while since he and Wilbur just… rested? Sat and enjoyed each other's company? It feels like it’s been eons. It’s hard to tell if Tommy likes it at this point.

Wilbur’s eyebags don’t look as bad as before his death.

He looks resolutely peaceful.

The floorboard creaks. Tommy’s cardigan hangs on the hooks by the door. He doesn’t have the strength to get up and grab his communicator.

Wilbur hums slowly, voice suffering a gritty drawl as if he too just woke up. “You sleep well?” he repeats.

Tommy hums as well. “You could say that.”

“Good, good,” Wilbur says. A beat or two passes before he speaks again, “Wanted to let you know Da— Phil texted me; said he ‘n’ Techno will be gone for a little while longer. Probably a couple days at most.”

Tommy’s vision goes pristine white. For the smallest moment, it’s as if all the circulation in his body is cut off, and if he weren’t sitting down he think he would be on his knees in terror.

“You—“ he chokes, eyes shooting bullets into the opposite armrest of the couch. They burn, threatening to spill over with unnecessary tears. “You said they’d be back in a few hours, I—“

“I know, I know—“ Wilbur quickly finishes, “but they got caught up. Too many errands, something or other.” He sits up straight, leaning back to rest on the wall behind him. “It’ll be fine, though, I promise you! Just you and me, huh? I told you we could do something by ourselves. It’s only a few days.”

#idk why its blue #Lets just all pretend is not.#dsmp fic

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sirensmojo · 4 years ago

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“KINDRED”, 2 - Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: Tommy meets a librarian that he discovered to be the chief of an underground organisation. Needing man enough allies to dirty their hands in the battle against Oswald Mosley, he shakes hands with the devil. Feelings intertwine with business, a mix that leads to unalterable ends...

Warnings: Swearing, romance, fluff.

Word Count: 6K+

❰ Previous Chapter

(...)

Several days later.

You were walking London’s street with the confidence of someone that ruled the place. Your back, straight, your head high as the air moved your hair gently, as if you were starring in an old Hollywood movie.

Your suit fitted you perfectly, a little loose so you were comfortable. You were wearing the jacket closed, one hand in your pant’s pocket as the clicking sound of your high heels resonated against the cobblestones of the empty streets.

It was early in the morning, so early the thick mist nearly extinguished the cigarette hanging on your red painted lips, but your gaze was already as determined as one can be.

‘This day will be great’ was the mantra you were singing in your head. You were supposed to open the library in less than an hour now, and you had to meet with your new employees to discuss the rules before opening.

You thanked God some of them were already a part of your organisation, which made it easier as they knew the way things needed to be done under your management.

Entering the building, the women were already waiting, in uniform and standing in a perfect line side by side.

You offered them a warm smile coming closer to them as you took your woollen coat off.

“Misses and Madams, let me welcome you to the Bridgehead Library. Now, you may or may not know me, I’m Y/N, you, strong fighter for women’s rights & aspirant to a world where we would walk the streets unafraid of any danger. Because we know how it is, for those of you that are single moms, for those of you that were disowned by your own family, those of you who don’t want to get married.”

You paced back and forth in front of the aligned women, looking at each one of them straight in the eyes, as talking with a firm and confident tone.

“You’re not taken seriously, you’re misused and abused. You fear the barmaid will not serve you a drink cause no man stands on your side, you fear the man that is staring at your body will be lurking in the shadows, following you, and rip off your clothes when you’ll be in an empty street.”

You stop in front of a face you saw in the files of Thomas Shelby while doing some research on him. You identify the individual as Ada Thorne, born Shelby, Tom’s sister.

“Well, you should know, for as long as you're willing to work here, none of the things mentioned before should ever happen to you. And your family will be fed and more... I guarantee you fifteen pounds a week. If anything… A-ny-thing may happen to you due to your gender, consider turning to Bridget, we will find a solution.”

You motioned to a blonde-haired woman sitting legs crossed at the principal desk to their right. Her hair was middle length and perfectly waved to one side as the other was tucked behind her ear.

The named Bridget glanced up to you before colliding her lit matchstick with her cigarette.

“You’re under my protection, use my name for doing whatever pleases you, whenever you want. This is your ticket to a brand new life, for all of you. And all of us, together, we can achieve great things. If the counsellor job isn’t enough for you, I invite you to turn to Ana.”

You pointed a brunette on your side, her facial expression was passive & aggressive, but for some reason, it was comforting. As if you knew you were in security in her presence.

“Now, as for the library…” You gave your instructions.

As soon as you finished your speech, it was 7, the hour of the opening.

The day was slow at the beginning, but soon enough the library was packed. Not only by people here to find a book, but packed with numerous women, all in a single file that led to a small room at the back of the first floor that had been designated as Ana’s office.

It was almost impossible for Ada not to wonder what was going on.

Were all these women wanting to find another job than counsellor?

All employees tried their best to keep quiet the visitors, following your orders, but as Ada was passing by the single file to pick up and put back books, she could hear murmurs.

The individuals were talking about politics, but something so far from what she had ever heard.

Some were talking about the tragic death of a certain Emily Davison before the war at the Derby Epsom and how they rallied the WSPU(Women’s Social and Political Union).

Others were talking about a recent speech by Emmeline Pankhurst to which they couldn’t assist due to coppers. The Shelby sister surmised that woman must be the leader of the political party given the amount of respect they paid her.

No need to say Ada was drowning in a tide of data and names she vaguely heard of before.

She didn’t pay that much attention to the women’s cause. Even after the death of her Freddie, after which reality smacked her back into the world she was living in.

It was either her family or her convictions, as being a Shelby meant drifting from the oppressed to the oppressor. But she was so focused on not being a Shelby that she closed herself to other opportunities.

She wanted to be a part of something bigger and better to help those in need. But she ultimately admitted to herself she needed her family in order to survive, which led her to jump off the communist boat.

But a part of her was always keeping her beliefs close to her heart.

(...)

*The library, fourth floor*

You turned the keys in the lock, opening your door’s office. You switched on the light and when turning back, stumbled on a man sitting crossed legs, at the edge of the sofa.

When he was sure he made his presence known, he lied backwards, extending one of his arms on the armrest, his head held high.

He was dressed in an elegant dark blue suit, white shirt, the chains of his watch knotted around one of his buttons with a fine red & blue tie around his neck.

Right above his upper lips was a full mustache, and as your gaze reached his dark eyes, you glimpsed the stranger’s neat hair flattened backward.

“What a surprise.” You let out, walking to the desk as if it was normal for him to be here. You then hung your coat on the coat rack, turning your back at Mosley.

“A good one, I hope.” The man put on his fake smile, lying eyes everywhere he could on the woman’s silhouette in front of him.

“Always, Mr Mosley. How could you be any other thing than a pleasure to see,” you came back to where he was and sat in one of the armchairs ahead “and meet.” You added, offering him a smile.

“It’s a shame we never had time to properly exchange--”

“That’s why you crept into my office.” You cut him and nodded to herself, your knuckles hitting on her thigh.

A chuckle escaped the man’s lips before he stared even more at the light-haired woman.

“It is to be said, your name doesn’t get quite unnoticed in society or amongst politicians.”

“So you’ve heard of me, even more charming.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

If he thought he could cajole you that easily, he was wrong.

“Not only have I heard of your deeds, Miss you, but I’ve been reported daily about the people you keep company with.” He stated as if it was normal for him to send people spying on whoever.

You remained silent, waiting for the man to say more.

He was gauging your reaction towards his words, lurking at any sudden change in your expression, but you kept on an unreadable face. Mosley tilted his head to the side, curiosity animating his iris.

“Leading me to question the nature of your relationship with Mr Thomas Shelby.” He continued, squinting his eyes.

“Perhaps socialists are your thing?” He spitted that last part with all the distaste he felt toward both the worker class and Tommy.

By the way your piercing eyes didn’t flinch a bit at his sneaky comment, Mosley surmised you weren't impressed, which eventuated in him smiling while keeping up the stare.

“Did you come all the way down to my library to give me a lecture on your inauthentic Dasein, Mr Mosley? There are doctors for that.”

A rictus at the corner of your lips distracted the eyes of the man in front you, who unwittingly broke the stare.

You won.

You took great delight in the void of Mosley’s expression that surely didn’t understand what you just said.

“Oh, beg pardon. Perhaps I’m using concepts you don’t understand.” You didn’t even cover the fact you were making fun of his ignorance, your eyes still as sharp as razors.

“Don’t you know Heidegger, Mr Mosley? He discusses a neat difference between what he calls Sein, that covers what Is, what constitutes human existence with the Dasein that covers the phenomenological analysis of human existence. In other words, he says there is a gap between how things are and how we perceive them.”

You got up and walked to your desk, making sure to pass by him pretty close so your perfume would meet the man’s nostrils.

You then opened the ceramic piece in which you kept your cigarettes, and as you grabbed one, you concluded.

“When it may seem to you something is occuring, that doesn’t mean it’s actually happening. It just means your senses want to believe it is happening for numerous reasons, but the main one is almost always the fear of something. You don’t believe it wittingly of course, it’s your inconscient working. But still, you just confided in me an unconscious worry named Thomas Shelby.” You ignited your cig.

By using a psycho-philosophical reference, you were showing him your hand, how studious you were, which meant he couldn’t look down on you or intimidate you easily.

His attempt to pressure you wasn’t working. And you were setting the standards high.

Mosley didn’t miss any of your movement since you got up. Eyeing you top to bottom. It was crystal clear your monologue satisfied him the most. He, that considered you as illegitimate of the high-society status you had been given.

Perhaps he was wrong?

“May I add, no offense here, that whatever concerns him, or me doesn’t concern you a bit? I’m afraid you came here in vain.” You smacked her lips at the end of her sentence, faking to be annoyed by the fact he lost his time coming here.

“I found you, Miss Y/L/N, I found you.” He repeated, fluttering his eyes as tilting his head to the side.

His way of intensely eyeing the individual he was speaking to would be quite uncomfortable for you if you hadn’t been a woman in a man’s world for so long.

No wonder why this man was so feared and yet adorned. His whole character emitted mysteriousness while arousing wonder and curiosity. It was hard, nearly impossible to read his face or even get in his mind, but you didn’t need that to face him head-on.

“And to answer your question, no. Socialists aren’t my thing, Kings are.” His brows raised at the end of your sentence.

You stared at each other some more, Mosley trying to discover the implied meaning of your sentence as you were internally laughing seeing him struggle.

“Anyway, I hope you’re finding our city to your liking. You’re from Birmingham after all.” He paused and got up, walking closer to the door with a hand in his pants pocket.”Talking of which, may I ask why not opening in a library there?” It was obvious the displeasure he felt towards your decision.

“I’ll call it ‘modern conquering’.” You responded with enthusiasm.

(...)

Ada poured wine into two cups when hearing the keys turning in the lock of her house. She first thought it was Ben, her lover coming back from his office, or wherever he was working as they weren’t truly speaking of work when together.

Her eyes widened at the sight of her brother when she turned back to the entrance of the living room. “Tommy?” Her high pitched tone expressing her surprise.

“Let’s sit down, Ada.” The man always looked worried and thoughtful, but this time it was different, his eyes were actually reflecting emotions, which usually never are.

“What’s happened”

Tommy came nearer the table and pulled a chair for his sister, without looking at her. “Sit down, eh?” He repeated before sitting down himself.

Ada didn’t stop looking at her brother, she knew him too well. Something wasn’t right. She pulled a chair for herself.

Tommy tried his best to look at the face of his sister while talking but he just couldn’t, his eyes kept drifting away. “Ben younger is dead. Someone put a bomb in his car.”

As the brunette wasn’t talking, her mouth slightly opened in shook, he kept on talking, “I don’t know how you felt about him or how bad this is going to hurt, but whatever happens just remember you have a baby inside of you.” He pointed to her tummy.

His sister let her back hit the chair noisily, searching the void for answers. “God.” She hardly sighed. “Anyone you touch. Which means anyone I touch. Which means anyone any of us touch. He never knew I was pregnant… I hadn’t told him.”

Tommy that was looking at her to support her pain, once again looked down hearing the hard truth.

“God, I didn’t love him.” She sighed heavily. “But I liked him. He was decent and good. And I wasn’t gonna marry him. The baby was a mistake but that’s okay… because I didn’t ask anything of him. God he didn’t deserve us.” A tear rolled down her cheek before she exhaled loudly again.

“Well I’ve spoken to his family. They’re going to take care of the funeral” Tommy said as Ada sniffled. “It will go down as an IRA assassination of a British military officer.” He felt the need to divulge her all he knew.

“But what was it really?” She calmly asked, looking intently at him her head tilted to the side.

Tommy smacked his lips and breathed deeply. “It was… a consequence of good intentions. My good intentions.”

She scoffed.

“I pushed him to report on the fascists. I thought it was the right thing to do. And as a result, Section D or the Branch or intelligence had him killed.”

She scoffed again, looking away this time.

He abruptly took back in hands his beret he previously dropped on the table and started fidgeting with it, looking down. “There was a kid, died in the explosion. He was ten years old. It’s funny isn’t it, how it works?” He cleared his throat and got up, starting to move forward the door.

“No, Tommy.”

He stopped, his back still turned to the woman.

“Don’t give yourself this excuse. “ Ada’s eyes were filled with tears, some of which hurtling down her face to her chin.

“He was ten years old. if I would stuck to what I do, he’d still be kicking a ball in the street. It’s funny isn’t it?” The meaning of his words was amplified by the thunder rumbling outside.

(...)

Days later.

It was the end of the day, employees had started to leave when Ada came to the entrance.

“Can I get the changing room keys?” She asked Bridget, who was sitting behind the desk, lost in a book.

“Ada Shelby? Miss you would like to borrow you a moment.” She pointed to the stairs behind her. “She’s waiting for you.” The desk lady invited the woman standing in front of her to get on her way.

Ada rolled her eyes at the mention of the Shelby name. “It’s Ada Thorne.”

The light-haired woman smiled at Ada’s comment.

She got up to the second floor and then to the third one before she wondered what her boss had to say that somebody else couldn’t tell her.

Ada rapidly caught sight of the wooden door at the end of the long corridor. She stops walking when hearing voices, a male and a female one. She stops, not wanting to get into their intimacy, but the door wasn’t completely closed, which allowed the voices to slip out pretty clear.

Not too long after she heard steps approaching and moved backward, so it didn’t look like she was eavesdropping. The door ultimately opened, and the fascist man she saw only once before with Tommy passed by her, without even glancing her way.

She knocked on the door and cleared her mind.

“Come in.”

She cleared her throat. “Miss Y/L/N, am Ada Thorne, you asked to see me?” She peek into the room.

“Yep, come in. Take a seat.” You motioned your hand that was holding a cigarette to the chair in front of her.

Her back flat against the backrest, your E/C’s eyes entered those of the Ada’s.

You were searching for the same light that was twinkling in Thomas’ eyes, in vain.

“Do you know who I am, Ada? I can call you that, right?”

“I heard about your achievements in Paris. What you did for women.” The brunette answered, uncertain of where this discussion was going.

“Do you know what I do?”

At the question, the woman ahead of you didn’t know what to answer.

Was there even a correct answer for that?

Of course, she knew part of her activities was illegal, she wasn’t blind. And, come on! She was a Shelby too, she could feel those things thanks to her brother’s choice of life.

But what her boss wanted her to say, exactly? And for what reason?

“You’re talking about the illegal part?”

“The criminal one” You snapped back.

Ada’s eyes widened.

“I surmised you didn’t. Why did you think there were that many women in here today? I offer them jobs in my London’s counterfeit money’s enterprise.” You leaned forward to Thorne, squeezing the cig into the ashtray.

You crossed the fingers of both your hands together. “You don’t really want to work here.” You forced out the words as if to convince Ada.

“Understand this library covers an underground organisation that is beyond you. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not particularly involved in the “business” of your own family. Tommy gave you a title in it but still, you’re here, working in a library to prove yourself something.

Why would I want someone like you in here? Someone that is unsure of what they are, what they want.”

The venom entered Ada’s ear going directly to her chest, depriving her of oxygen for a short instant. But her eyebrows surely knitted in anger.

“Stop acting like you know everything when it is clear you understand nothing.” She gained composure again.

“I heard, you didn’t even want to be a Shelby in the first place, running away from your home and your family.” You nodded, your eyes still deep into Ada’s.

“You ‘hear’ things and you take it as the absolute truth? And you’re the leader here.” Thorne chuckled to herself, her eyebrows raised high.

You sneered at the comment.

“What is the problem with my family anyway? If you want to fire me because I’m a Shelby then just do it. I’ll not come burning your library if that’s the matter.”

The librarian cackled, putting your head into your joined open hands, elbows on the table. “God! No! That’s not that. It is more about the fact that the first time you’re getting involved in that kind of organisation it’s not your brother’s. Not your family’s.”

Ada looked away, realizing what the light-haired woman meant. She, who never was included in the family business, rather by choice than by abandonment of her family, was employed in a pseudo library that was covering for dirty activities.

“It’s ironic indeed. But what makes you think I wouldn’t want to work here knowing the truth?”

You shrugged. “You never worked with your brothers. Even your aunt, Polly is actively working there.”

“It was my choice.”

“So you’ve changed your mind.”

Ada dismissed the talk, another question seeming to be more urgent:

“But why didn’t you just let me be unaware of all this and be like the others.” She retorted.

“Because you’re not ‘like the others’. You’re a Shelby and a Thorne. Your brother is sitting at the House Of Commons amongst politicians while getting his hands dirty here and there, and your deceased husband was a very known communist leader. You’re everything but random, understand that.”

“So you’re telling this to me out of goodness?” She laughed at you without even hiding her reluctance toward this eventuality.

“Respect.” You rectified with a solemn tone.

The brunette stops laughing, her expression becoming serious again. She didn’t quite get your the true motives, but she had other questions.

“What are your relations with my brothers, are you enemies?”

“No.”

“Allies, then?”

“No.”

Even if you told Ada about the true roots of this library, she wouldn’t talk about the arrangement between her and Thomas. It wasn’t your place to do so, and you didn’t think Ada needed to know, at least for now.

“It’s not like you’re going to get your hands dirty anyway, but if anything should happen to me, they will associate you with me, so they’ll come for you.”

“Who’s they?”

“Coopers, I don’t have them in my pocket.”

Thorne seemed to be in her head, probably rethinking her intention to keep working here as a counsellor.

“You were already working here with the old owner so I’ll let you choose rather you want to stay or leave. But don’t stay because you want to prove something to yourself, or your family. I don’t need a crybaby. If the communist cause you defend isn’t matching with the cause I fight for, leave.”

Your words cut in pieces the thick atmosphere that had settled between the two women.

(...)

Thomas convened a family meeting.

Everyone was already waiting for him at the pub. Charlie Senior and Curly were sitting at a table drinking from the bottle, while Johnny Dog and Jeremiah were sipping on whiskey at the counter, next to Aberama Gold, too occupied looking at his future wife Polly.

She were sitting at a table with her son and his wife, Gina.

As Arthur and Finn passed the door, the oldest Shelby got behind Michael and didn’t miss the occasion to stumble wittingly on his cousin’s chair, pulling away the younger’s back from it.

Next, he hassled to sit near the counter, pouring himself some liquor that he drank in one go. Finn reluctantly came and sat at the table between Gina and Polly.

Tommy finally arrived, walking around the table to place himself in front of everyone.

“First of all, an apology from Lizzie. She can’t be here. Charles has a violin concert. Also, welcome to Mr Aberama Gold. He and Polly are to be married in three weeks with my blessing. From now on, Aberama will be welcomed at our meetings. First item: business. A bereavement. Colonel Ben Younger, who may perhaps have become a member of this family, was taken from us, four days ago, by dark forces. We’ve made some investigations, we think we know who planted the bomb. In the meantime, our thoughts are with Ada and the baby inside of her, who may one day, sit at these meetings but… Hopefully under happier circumstances.”

“Let’s drink to happier circumstances.” Pol’ offered while pouring some whiskey in her and Tommy’s cup.

“Yeah.” Arthur agreed, raising his glass. “To Ada.” He added, soon joined by all the people in the room.

Tommy coughed at the burn of the whiskey and continued his speech, “Item number two: an announcement regarding Michael.” He coughed again as if to release some tension in him, his hand rose toward the younger Gray.

“Before you go on, Tommy, there’s something I’d like to say, to the whole family directly, regarding finances and the future of this company.” Michael stated, getting comfortable in his chair, and from the corner of his eye, he could see his mother glaring at his wife.

Gina ignored her, looking down and smoking a cigarette.

“According to your own estimations, this new venture of the delivery and shipment of opium will bring into the company around £2 million per year. Therefore, due to the amounts involved, I think this company should be restructured.” He continued, looking fearlessly at a pissed Tommy.

“Michael. I think this can wait ‘till outside the family meeting.” His mother tried to postpone the confrontation.

“Restructured in what way?” Tommy asked, not because he was genuinely interested, but because he needed to know if Michael’s betrayal had limits. Which it didn’t have.

“Because of the amount of money involved, shipment and dispatch will become the primary source of income in the company. It’s simple mathematics.” Gina proudly announced, deciding to match her husband’s audacity as she looked Thomas the wrong way.

Her husband got up, going behind her as he placed his hands on both her shoulders rubbing them gently. “With the help of my wife, I will organise an expansion into America, where the narcotics business is just beginning to grow. I have very good contacts in Detroit, New-York, Boston, who I’ve already spoken to about this. And Gina has family who are very experienced in this kind of business.”

It seems like the woman surely gained composure thanks to the assurance in her husband’s voice because she finally decides to look back at Polly, who was staring at her the whole time with an unpredictable longing to plant her butterfly knife in her.

Gina, quickly glanced away as if to snub her husband’s mother.

“According to the conversations I’ve had with them, with a regular supply of pure opium from China, within a short space of time, the American narcotics business will bring in $20 million per annum. Enough money for you to enjoy an easing burden you all now feel. See, I know that the scars and the wounds, they’re on the inside, not on the outside. And as a member of the new generation, I am able to take that burden off your weary shoulders. A new decade is coming. There’ll be new opportunities and new territories, more money than we’ve ever had before.”

He stops looking around to everyone to pause on his cousin only.

“Tommy, you can still do the good work that deep down you want to do. Mum, you can get married and live in that big house.”

Polly happily glanced at Aberama, letting herself dream of a good life for a second.

“Arthur, you can be the man that Linda wants you to be.”

“Fuck Linda.” Arthur interrupted.

Michael turned to Finn, walking toward him to rest behind the seated man, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it proudly.

“Finn, you’ve proved yourself. You’re part of the new generation. You could come to New-York with me.” Michael finished his speech. His wife handed him a file that he gladly took in hands. He walked to Thomas and dropped the file on the table that rested between them two.

Tommy’s eyes went to the file before lifting to Michael’s determined face.

“Here is my proposal. A full restructuring of the company. I will be managing director… and you can be non-executive chairman. But under an assumed name to protect your reputation. I found the name of a dead man. You will be registered as Mr Jones.”

He turned toward the other people in the room. “You will each receive a percentage of the profits as an annuity. And you will no longer have to engage in any of the associated activities.”

Michael then grabbed the file to hand it to Tommy.

“Take a look at the future, Tommy. At least read it with an open mind.”

The head of the Peaky Blinders paused, looking at Michael intensely before taking the file. “It’s cold in here, Michael.” He finished, turning to the fireplace and throwing the catalogue there.

Johnny Dog let out an excited laugh, surely due to the heavy atmosphere the two cousins had settled.

“Tommy the Americans want to deal with me.” Michael’s jaw tensed as his voice raised with impatience.

“Item number three--” Continued Thomas as if nothing happened. But he was cut off by Gina’s venom:

“Tell him the truth.” She seemed unsatisfied with the way his husband chose to handle the situation. Tommy’s eyes hassled toward the young woman, speechless. “Go on. He can take it.” She continued.

His eyes went back to Michael that looked away, immediately, as if he didn’t want to come to this end.

“Tell me the truth, Michael.” Tommy encouraged, exasperated by this whole scene.

“The Americans don’t want to deal with an old-fashioned backstreet razor gang. Those days are done.” Michael gained composure again, looking blankly at Tommy.

The latter couldn’t even correctly react that some men entered the pub, needing some help to handle Bartley, who was convinced he was still at war. Everybody got out of the room in a hurry except for Michael, Gina, Tommy & Pol’.

Passing by Michael to get out, Arthur leaned to his ear slowly, “Fuck the Americans.”

Tommy turned around, hand on the wooden piece as he was leaning above the fireplace, looking intensely into the orangish flames.

“I’m doing this for you Tommy. It’s time… And you know it.”

The concerned one, closed his eyes taking a deep breath in and tried to calm his nerves and think. But nothing came to him, he couldn’t even properly swallow how much Michael’s betrayal had extended, the worst was that he was sure, it wasn’t the end of it. His cousin probably wanting to take everything from him slowly he surely voluntarily omitted things.

“Tommy, Mum’s leaving. John’s dead. Arthur needs help. Ada’s man was killed in your own backyard because you fucked up.” Now that there weren’t people to impress, Michael let the anger he felt toward his cousin’s actions.

The elder blue-eyed man couldn’t stay calm a second more, he abruptly turned around, grabbed the bottle of whiskey that was on the table and violently threw it in the fire, creating the flames to only grow bigger. Gina was scared, she held her chair with tightened hands and Polly and she jumped with surprise on their chair.

He turned again to Michael as the latter held him a butterfly knife already open.

“Go on, Tom. Go on cut me. Like the good old days. Or… See this for what it is. A natural succession that someday must happen” His arm going down again.

At this point, the Shelby brother had calmed down, finding funny the proposition he was offered. His lips smacked and breathed deeply, looking at anything but his opposant. He shook his head in disbelief, “I gave you an opportunity, Michael. You betrayed me. Don’t be here when I get back.” He looked at his younger cousin, deceived by him and angry at himself.

After losing $2 millions in the Wall Street crash., Tommy gave him an opportunity to come back to England and pay him what he owed him, but even there, in the boat, Michael met with people that are Shelby’s family enemy. When that happened, Tommy gave him the benefit of the doubt. And now this? Michael went too far, and this time Tommy will not close his eyes on it. The only reason his cousin was still breathing was that he's Polly’s son.

He walked around the table and addressed Gina, smacking his fingers as he pointed her, leaning forward. “You. You can tell your family--”

“Let me guess.” She interrupted him, the same satisfying face she had at the beginning of the meeting. “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” That wasn’t a question.

Michael grinned, as Tommy quickly got out of the pub.

“Right?” Gina mockingly asked.

(...)

Tommy was spending most days at the House Of Commons lately doing speeches in favor of fascism to the greatest pleasure of Mosley.

That day, he was there from early in the morning to the evening. It was already around 10, but his assistant opened the door to his office, saying someone was there but without having an appointment.

“Who it is?” He asked, raising a brow, one of his hands went in his pocket to check on his watch.

“The librarian.”

It’s been nearly two weeks since your last meeting and at the simple mention of you, he would find his blood boiling in anticipation of the wave of feelings you brought him.

His pulsions talking for him, the Shelby brother ordered to let you in without questioning why you were here that late.

“Mr Shelby, you asked me to get information about a certain Michael Gray?” You came in like a tornado, your voice filled with sarcasm mixed with enthusiasm as you were the one pushing him to act on his cousin’s betrayal weeks ago.

How ironic was it that he had to learn the hard way you had been right since the very beginning, you surmised something must’ve happened between the younger gray and him given the determined words he’d written on the note he left at the library sat in one of the two chairs facing his desk. “No time for formalities.” You agitated the folder in her hand.

He almost gasped at your movements, he had forgotten how sensual you were.

Whenever they would meet, you would succeed to arouse something in him, maybe even igniting a fire that couldn’t be found when you weren’t around.

“You might want to read that!” You nodded to yourself, your brows raised high as if you detained the most important information of the decade.

“You do me the lecture.” His playful tone made you look up to him. Your head tilted at the sight of the glasses hanging on Tommy’s nose as you released a little “huh” from your lips.

He squinted his eyes, not knowing why the actual fuck did you do that. Did you just judge him or was he dreaming?

He took off the glasses and placed them on the table, not wanting to deal with that face you just made again, all while remaining silent and invited you to begin.

You clicked your tongue in disapproval. “Do you think it’s going to be free, Mr Shelby?” You looked intensely at him, your own eyes devoid of emotions.

He hated the fact you were able to just erase your emotion from your face and your eyes as he desperately wanted to see things in them. But him being him, he too put on an expressionless face.

“What do you want?”

“Everything, but you can’t give that to me. So I’ll just answer ‘whatever’.”

He frowned, not understanding her point.

“When I’ll need something, you’ll be answering present without the option to say no.”

He remained silent, quite taken aback by how forward you was. His jaw clenched, tension building up in the room. If stares could send lightnings, they’d both be nothing but a pile of ashes by now.

Reading his silence, you deduced it means he was alright with the deal and proceeded to answer his previous wish, do him a lecture.

“It is written here that Gina Gray’s family isn’t rich, but they weren’t starving either…” You begins. You then allowed a sweet “bla-bla-bla” to come out your lips as passing over the words searching for a specific part.

Tom didn’t miss your deeds a bit. From the enthusiastic tone in your voice to your serious face. He looked at the way your were sitting, legs crossed with the file on your thighs as you was slightly leaning forward.

No wonder your were excited to show him your findings while handling business like a boss. He caught himself thinking your were cute.

It was the first time he’d seen your that commited. He’d seen you focused, but you were always passive whereas now, your seemed completely into what your were talking about.

“The part that interests us is this one ‘Has an uncle that meets up at the docks several times a week with a group of people being a part of the drugs industry. It seems they cover their activities by the image of a protestant group and illegally sends rifles under God’s cause to our beloved Scottish friends, in other words, the Billy boys. And this, on a daily basis.”

You patted the paper.

“It is written here, they counted around 6 boats per month, Tom.” You raised your kindling gaze to the icy blue-eyed man.

He paused, his lips slightly opening before sliding a hand on his face and looking down.

It seems Tommy didn’t believe what he was hearing.

He leaned on the desk and opened the wooden box where his cigarettes were.

His back harshly met his chair as he stared at the woman, blinking.

“I’m serving it on a plate, to you, Thomas.” You”d serenely let out, as if you understood him without having him saying anything. “Just deal with it.”

“How much do you trust this contact?”

“I trust him with my life.” You responded.

With this partnership, he didn’t proceed the same as usual by offering something in return. He didn’t have the time to give you a proper offer that you'd already started to work in favor of his plan against Mosley, so this relationship was more based on the trust they have into each other rather than a commun exchange of services.

Today was the first time you’d ask him to return the favor, and it was today as well that the man had to wittingly choose to trust her blindly.

He coughed and lighted his cig, and put an elbow on the wooden desk as he was still deeply in thoughts.

You got up, moving slowly and leaned on the desk, hands flat on it, her face not even a centimeter away from his. “If you don’t trust that,” you pointed at him and then at you, “end it.” You finished.

The mood automatically shifted due to the tension that has quickly installed between the two individuals.

Not for even one second did you imagine things to get this sensual. Here you were, desperately searching other's eyes out of each other’s grip.

Tommy’s eyes hungrily drifted to your lips, and stayed there more than it should’ve.

You moved back and turned your heels, leaving the room.

Too much in too little time. This. What that even was, and what did it mean?

This was the reason why you never got emotionally involved in business . But that was different now. But for you, that always kept the idea that the past wasn't supposed to repeat itself, the present was slapping maybe too hard.

Thank God you succeeded at getting out, not because of Tommy, but utterly because of yourself. If you had stayed so much as one second more, you didn’t know what you would’ve done, or maybe you did know but preferred to bury it away.

It was easier that way.

Following Chapter ❱

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x y/n #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic

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hlizr50 · 3 years ago

Text

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 7

Cassian provides comic relief.

And Gwyn and Az spar for the first time since... everything.

Read on AO3

“Well today was interesting.” Nesta raised a brow. Gwyn chose to play dumb.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shrugged. Her head wasn’t really there, she knew, and her friend could have seen it from miles away.

“Gwyneth Berdara!” Nesta huffed, crossing her arms. “I held you last night as you cried over the shadowsinger and today you can’t stop ogling each other and grinning like fools. What. Happened?” Gwyn smiled sincerely, leaning in to kiss her sister on the cheek.

“I love you, and I will forever be grateful that you are by my side. And that you stalked straight into that study and gave him hell,” the priestess laughed. “We talked last night. I found him in the training ring.”

Gwyn and Nesta sat on the sofa in the library, legs tucked beneath them. Training had ended and hour before and Nesta had practically dragged the redhead inside after being caught in the middle of one-too-many sidelong glances between the priestess and the shadowsinger. Nesta’s ice-gray stare bore into her through narrowed eyes.

“So what? You’re miserable for three weeks and he says he’s sorry and magically everything is fine? I’m disappointed, Berdara.” Nesta scowled. “I wanted you to at least make him squirm a little.”

Gwyn’s head rocked back as she laughed, likely the most genuine mirth she’d experienced in weeks. “Don’t worry, dear Valkyrie. He’s not off the hook yet.” She felt her nose crinkle as her friend’s eyebrows lifted again, this time in surprise.

“Explain, Gwyneth,” she commanded.

“Well,” Gwyn paused, contemplating how to keep the story succinct. “I made him explain himself, and he walked me through his past. He said he wouldn’t blame me if I couldn’t forgive him, but that he cares for me… as more than a friend. And I told him I felt the same.” Her heart swelled just as it had the night before, a quiet confession she hadn’t been sure she ever wanted to hear. Not unless it was from Azriel.

“WHAT?!” Nesta shot to her feet and began pacing excitedly in front of the fireplace with her hands covering her mouth. Then she stopped, turning to Gwyn and leaning on the plush armrest. “So are you an item now?”

“No.” Gwyn’s smile was smug as her friend groaned dramatically and collapsed playfully over the sofa arm. “Not yet, at least.” Nesta lifted her head.

“Oh?”

“I told him that things would go back to how they were before this necklace debacle. That’s how our relationship developed in the first place.” She absentmindedly fingered the pendant as she spoke. “He has to prove to me that he won’t fall into this cycle of guilt and self-loathing and deciding for me what I want or deserve. And once I can trust that he won’t push me away like that we’ll find out what’s next.”

“Darling priestess, I’m impressed!” Nesta pushed herself back upright, leaning once again on the couch. “What did he say?”

Gwyn felt the heat in her cheeks as she recalled the roughness of his declaration, his voice unlike any other time she’d heard him speak.

“He swore to me that he would.”

“He swore? Cauldron, Gwyn, you have him wrapped around your finger already!”

“And then I hugged him.”

Nesta’s lips quirked up on one side and she tilted her head. Gwyn wasn’t sure what to make of that reaction, like she was being studied. “And what did he do then?”

“What else does a person do when you hug them?” The priestess giggled. “He put his arms around me and hugged back.” She conveniently forgot to mention that he’d seemed to breathe her in after that. That it had felt like he was trying to pull her so far into him that she wouldn’t be able to pull away. It had been the most incredible feeling.

Gwyn looked to her friend but found a narrowed gray gaze and flaring nostrils.

“CASSIAN!”

The priestess squeaked as she launched herself to the opposite side of the couch, desperate to quiet her sister’s call. She balanced a knee precariously on the armrest, slapping a hand over Nesta’s mouth.

“Nesta Archeron,” she hissed. “What in the Mother’s name!”

“CASSIAN! Library! NOW!” Nesta held Gwyn’s wrists in her hands, lips curled in amusement. The redhead struggled to quiet her, a string of obscenities rolling from her lips. “Berdara, such language! Hardly becoming of a priestess!”

Said priestess pushed off the sofa arm and pulled Nesta down to the ground, pinning the eldest Archeron on her back between her legs. Her victorious smirk fell when she looked up to find the Illyrian general staring down at them, arms crossed over his broad chest and eyes twinkling with mischief.

“I’m going to kill you, Archeron,” Gwyn growled before flashing a bright smile at Cassian. “Hello, General.”

“I’m not sure what’s happening here. I don’t know if I should be concerned, jealous, or aroused.” Cassian’s grin widened as the priestess scowled, even as she felt the blush burning her cheeks.

“You’re a pig,” his mate muttered before pushing her captor in the stomach. “Get off me, Berdara. We have things to discuss.”

“I don’t see how your mate belongs in this discussion,” Gwyn retorted, but rose to her feet and offered a hand to the other Valkyrie. Nesta got up and they helped dust each other off. She lifted an eyebrow at the copper-haired priestess, her smirk creating a coil of suspicion in Gwyn’s stomach.

“Cassian,” Nesta cooed before turning to face him. “Apparently our dear priestess and the shadowsinger shared an embrace last night.”

“Is that so?” Gwyn pressed her hands to her face, trying to douse the fire that was blazing in her cheeks as the Illyrian fixed her with an unyielding amber stare.

“It is. I’m guessing you didn’t know?” Cassian’s gaze moved to his mate.

“You think Az would tell me something like that?” He laughed, sending Gwyn a wink that only ignited her face further. She groaned and collapsed onto the fluffy cushions of the couch, desperate for this conversation to end.

“He’s your closest friend, isn’t he? I tell my best friend everything.” Gwyn peeked out from between her fingers in time to see Nesta fix a pointed glare on her. “Although, it seems my best friend may be wary to do the same.”

“Nes, Azriel doesn’t tell me anything about his love life. He knows I’ll immediately use it to make his life miserable.”

“Gods, Cassian, please don’t,” Gwyn pleaded, planting her hands on either side of her thighs. The Illyrian plopped onto the couch next to her and shot her a boyish grin.

“I make no promises, little Valkyrie.”

She took in his hulking form as she shook her head at him, a smile creeping onto her lips. Cassian was the personification of strength and power, with confidence that toed the fine line into arrogance. With those rippling muscles that were never truly hidden – no matter how loose a shirt he wore – it was any wonder he didn’t have females hanging from those thick biceps at every moment. But she imagined Nesta would put an end to anything of the sort quickly and in the most terrifying way. Gwyn had always been somewhat surprised that the general hadn’t absolutely terrified her, but she had been remarkably intimidated – his reputation, his swagger, his skill. There was a time not-so-long ago when she couldn’t have imagined feeling so self-assured. Even now she was sure she’d never quite make it to Cassian’s level of easy confidence, but she had come so far from that soft-spoken, timid nymph in the library.

“I don’t even know why I asked.” Gwyn rolled her eyes and flopped back against the velvet tufts and buttons of the well-worn couch.

“Aw, now don’t be like that, Gwynnie,” the general pouted and leaned toward her. She crossed her arms and grimaced, freckled nose scrunching at the nickname. “I promise I’ll try to be good. But that’s all I can promise.”

“He just can’t help himself,” Nesta mused.

“Well I appreciate your effort, I suppose. Since it will be so difficult for you.”

“Anything for you, little Valkyrie.” The general tapped a finger on the tip of Gwyn’s nose and guffawed at her glare. Apparently she wasn’t as intimidating as she’d hoped. But she saw Cassian’s eyes soften, amber gaze shining in the afternoon sunlight through the large windows. “I’m glad you were able to talk to him. Nes had us worried last night.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your boys’ night. I never would’ve asked her to –“

“Don’t be sorry. I’m not.” The honey-haired Valkyrie crossed in front of Gwyn and placed herself on her mate’s lap, looping her arms around his neck. Gwyn’s heart squeezed at the casual display, the intimacy of it. It wasn’t a big deal for the couple before her, but… was that something she could have? Something she could do? Would Azriel want that – closed-off and guarded as he always seemed to be? Smiling and laughing was one thing, but public displays of affection? “Shit got done thanks to me. And if that’s what it took to get him to stop being a fucking imbecile then I will never apologize.”

“I think things are on the right track now.” Gwyn smiled, though she kept her gaze focused on the whorls of dark wood grain in the coffee table. “Hopefully.”

~~~

Two Days Later

Azriel’s shadows wafted like smoke around him, an indication of a peace that was beginning to bloom inside him. Although he had awoken in the middle of the night, it wasn’t his typical darkness and demons that chased him out of bed. He closed his eyes and grinned, feeling the familiar weight of Truthteller in his grasp. Maybe his body was simply accustomed to waking up in the middle of the night, now, and it would take months – or years – of relatively peaceful sleep to change that.

The shadowsinger inhaled deeply, letting his body feel everything around him – the cool night air caressing his wings, the soft glow of the moon brightening the backs of his eyelids, the grounding presence of solid stone as he pushed his weight down through his booted feet and into the packed dirt of the ring. Then he lifted his foot and began the dance, a more elaborate form of the eight-pointed star that he had developed centuries ago, mixing intricate close-proximity blade work with feinting, defense, and hand-to-hand. Every flick of the wrist was carefully choreographed in time with a metronome of inhales and exhales, every shift in weight a perfect harmony accompanying the melody of blade and fist slicing the air.

This, he understood, was one of the most feared males in all of Prythian. Every step, every breath calm and calculated – the result of ruthless research and perfect practice. The Spymaster understood that physical strength and prowess were absolutely important, but the ability to predict and bend and break an enemy hinged on one’s ability to intimately understand every part of the mind inside the body. To so deeply know those who would do harm to his Court, his family, was to be them and see their chosen path, ideally before they even chose it.

And so the dance continued.

Azriel felt the skin of his bare chest and back tighten, pebbling as the breeze and the curling shadows wicked the perspiration from his tanned flesh. He loved this feeling, the quiet and cold of the night a safe haven against prying eyes. They were always on him. He felt them as intensely as if they were the brush of fingers on his skin – lustful longing glances, morbid curiosity over his scarred body and ruined hands, abject and wide-eyed terror at the Spymaster in the flesh. Sometimes his shadows helped hide him, and sometimes he loosened their leash, allowing the inky tendrils to writhe and pulse in his wake, reminding the world just what he was.

Darkness. Malice. Death. The vilified and reviled Court of Nightmares personified in the heart of the beauty of the city of starlight.

So many times he had resigned to himself that he should take residence there, in the Hewn City. Too many times he had been tempted to shut himself off from the love and light of his family and his court and let the shadows consume him. He was endlessly grateful to those who had reached out their hands and walked him back from that ledge – a cliff hanging over the raging black waters of sorrow, brokenness, anger, and fear. Cassian and Rhys. Mor. Feyre.

Gwyn.

Even in the solitude of his midnight practice he could feel the burn of her ocean-deep eyes and scent the hint of rain and water lilies –

Azriel’s eyes snapped open and he spun the quarter turn he knew would leave him facing the doorway. There he found the priestess, clad in those leathers that didn’t hide an inch of her, Cauldron damn him. She leaned against the frame with crossed arms and graced him with a soft smile. He could feel his shadows curl under her thoughtful gaze and he cursed them for once again not alerting him to her presence. It took him but a breath to take in the sight of her, not wanting to ogle her so obviously – a crass male instinct he worked desperately to beat into submission. Gwyn seemed to glow in the night, but while her smooth porcelain skin shone in the moonlight and her straight hair was a fire burning against it, he was captivated always by the teal depths of her impossibly expressive eyes. The emotions he had seen there had nearly brought him to his knees more times than he cared to admit.

“Please, Shadowsinger, don’t stop on my account.” She waved those graceful fingers in his direction, urging him on.

“And give you a free show? I don’t think so.” The sound of her full-bodied laugh may have been the most glorious thing he had ever heard, the sincerity of it something he’d taken for granted. The shadows over his shoulders seemed to vibrate in time with her mirth.

“And what of all I saw before you even realized I was here?”

“A free preview, of course.” He let his lips quirk into a wry smile. “To tempt you.” Gwyn snorted – Mother above she snorted at him. And when she only lifted a skeptical eyebrow at him, he continued.

“Spar with me. If you win I’ll let you watch.”

“You must think mighty highly of yourself if my beating you in a fight would win only the opportunity to watch you train the eight-pointed star, beautiful and elaborate as it may be.” Azriel knew his face was tinged with heat – beautiful – and could only hope the night was dark enough that the priestess couldn’t see. He knew his traitorous shadows would be no help. They seemed to revel in his vulnerability with her, always drifting in her direction and refusing to shield him in any capacity. Not from Gwyn. And while she was clearly unimpressed she pushed away from the wall and strode toward him. Her hair fell over her shoulders and he wondered for a moment why she hadn’t tied it back.

“What brings you here, then, priestess? If not to spar, or to watch?” Azriel knew that her trips to the training ring were borne of sleepless nights, demons and nightmares he had not been able to save her from. But he also knew how she abhorred pity, bristling against it much like he did – a gleaming mirror to his shadowed soul. The spymaster shuddered and took a cautious step toward her as she stopped an arm’s length before him. Her eyes had never left his, and he couldn’t see the exhaustion and pain that had shimmered there only days before. But he still had to ask.

“Are you still having that nightmare, Gwyn?” He knew he didn’t need to explain further, knew that she would understand his ask. He flared his wings, trying to ease the tension between his shoulders that had lodged there as he recalled the wrenching shame of the night he’d been made aware of the full extent of her suffering, the consequence of his stupidity.

Her straight copper hair swished around her face as she shook her head. Azriel felt the unimaginable weight lifting from him as the corners of Gwyn’s mouth ticked up in a gentle smile. A shadow broke away and twirled through a loose tendril that had fallen over her cheek, as if boasting to its master that it could caress her skin and he could not. Azriel’s throat bobbed as he made to speak, but the Valkyrie beat him to it.

“Are we sparring or not, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn stepped away from him, giving herself space to execute a few quick stretches. “If you are to be believed, my viewing pleasure hangs in the balance.”

The spymaster rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t live that down for awhile. He kept silent as he centered himself, rolling his neck and shoulders as he waited for the priestess to take her fighting stance. She deftly wove her hair into an easy plait and tied the end with her ever-present white ribbon.

“Do you just keep a ribbon on you at all times?” Azriel teased.

“I’m always prepared, Shadowsinger.” Gwyn’s eyes narrowed as she answered matter-of-factly. “It’s practically my signature now.” And although the Illyrian chuckled and shook his head, he was inwardly marveling at how she could be so strong and bold and brave and yet still be… adorable.

As Gwyn lowered her hands to her sides, she took a breath. Azriel watched, transfixed, as she seemed to transform in the pale blues and grays of the moonlight upon the stone. Her eyes fluttered shut and she squared her shoulders, breathing in with a patient and measured ease.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Azriel could feel the air around them as it seemed to still along with the redhead – no longer the playful young priestess, but a warrior preparing for battle. He bent his knees and shifted his weight, preparing for what would face him when she opened her eyes. Even his shadows hung frozen over his shoulders, paralyzed in anticipation.

The Valkyrie didn’t give him time to admire how her incredible eyes had become dark and infinite with determination and deadly calm. She struck immediately.

The shadowsinger was taken aback for the briefest moment, but of course he knew that was what she had intended. Often when they sparred it began measured and slow. They knew each other too well, understood their strategies, strengths, and tells. So many times they would simply circle for what seemed like hours, silently daring the other to make the first move. Or relentlessly goading each other until one of them reacted.

Gwyn immediately jumping on the offensive was unusual, and he kept his eyes keenly focused on her face, her breathing, her movement, in an attempt to divine her plan. He deftly blocked punches and ducked under a kick meant for his face, grinning when he heard the muttered curse under her breath. His grin widened as she moved away from him, chest heaving.

“Winded already, Berdara?” Azriel cocked an amused eyebrow as they circled each other. “How disappointing.”

“My training has suffered a bit these last few weeks,” she retorted, wiping the back of her hand over her brow.

“Oh, I am well aware. I saw Nesta knock you on your ass the other day.” The shadowsinger aimed for that same shoulder, the one she left exposed when she was exhausted, throwing a punch, then a kick, and then another punch. Gwyn managed to dodge the kick but couldn’t fully avoid the second fist. She staggered backward with a grunt.

“I’ve been somewhat preoccupied,” she growled. A pang of guilt struck him, but he didn’t let it show, didn’t let it move him. He knew she hadn’t been training healthily, and he knew it was because of him. But their relationship in the ring was just as much about trust and accountability as it was about supporting each other and fighting their lingering darkness. He would not pity her, and he would not take it easy on her.

“Again, priestess. I am well aware.”

Gwyn’s response was to lash out, sending an uncontrolled punch at his face. Azriel caught her wrist and spun her around, caging her in his arms with her back against his chest. He tried to ignore the feeling of her panting body against his as he angled his head to whisper in her ear.

“Your enemy will not wait until you’re ready to strike. You must always be primed, skills honed and mind settled. Even when stupid males make your life unnecessarily difficult and painful.”

The priestess tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but his arms were strong as stone. But he wasn’t prepared for her to stomp her foot into his instep. She managed to escape his arms, but he kept his grip on her wrist as she whirled to face him. She wound her wrist from his hand and in the same breath he spun and kicked his leg out low, sweeping her feet out from under her. Azriel was upon her as soon as her back hit the ground, thighs straddling her stomach. Her loss of breath made it easy for him to grab her wrists and pin them to her chest.

“You must always take care of yourself, Gwyneth Berdara. Always be at your best. There must never be defeat for you. You will not falter. You will not be taken. Is that clear?” His voice had become thick as his throat tightened, the shadowsinger only just realizing the implications of her deterioration over the previous weeks. What if there had been an attack? What if something had happened? Gwyn would have been in no condition to fight. That was not a prospect he was willing to entertain. “Is that clear, Berdara?”

“Yes.” Gwyn’s answer was barely a whisper between gulping breaths. Pink stained her cheeks, but he couldn’t tell if that was from his fierce command, their compromising position, or the physical exertion. Azriel didn’t immediately release her wrists and instead leaned back onto his heels to stand. As he rose and stepped backwards over her legs he pulled her to her feet.

“You’re out of practice, priestess,” he scolded, chuckling as she scowled and pulled her arms away from him. She strode over to the water table and poured a cup from one of the half-empty pitchers left from training. Azriel had expected a retort, and when she didn’t fling one he took his time to join her, first retrieving his discarded shirt from the other side of the ring. They stood in silence, letting the night breeze cool their skin and steady their breathing. Gwyn’s teal gaze drifted to the city below, a rainbow of twinkling lights in competition with the black starlit sky. The shadowsinger was content to be silently near her, present for whatever support she needed. He took the chance to appreciate her lovely face in profile, the moonlight illuminating the freckles painted across her cheeks.

“There wasn’t any real reason for me to come up here tonight,” Gwyn admitted softly, keeping her eyes focused out into the night. “I just… wanted to see if you would be here. I wanted to spar with you again, finally. Like we used to.”

Azriel took a moment to soak himself in her confession and allowed the guilt to wash over him briefly. That there was even a shred of insecurity inside her, the smallest thought that he wouldn’t be there for her. He would snuff out those thoughts if it took him another five centuries. “I told you I would prove it to you, that I would earn your trust again. It felt… right. Tonight, I mean.” And then that beautiful smile graced her full lips. She still didn’t turn to him, but he knew without seeing how that smile would light up her eyes. His shadows lazily churned, basking in her contentment, and the shadowsinger allowed himself to delight in the golden spark of hope in his chest when his priestess finally answered.

“Yes. It does feel right.”

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bangtanbetchfics · 4 years ago

Text

friction | knj (m)

genre: office au, romance, smut rating: explicit // 18+ pairing: kim namjoon x reader word count: 7.0k suggested listening: 1 billion views - exo-sc | creme brulee - gfriend | underwater - baekhyun | playlist warnings: m/f, m/m, explicit language, explicit/casual sex, masturbation, enemies to lovers, light bondage, light dom/sub, sex toys summary: your pesky and overworked assistants meddle in your relationship with your sexy rival -- kim namjoon -- and find themselves caught in the crosshairs of love and all-out war. notes: enjoy enjoy enjoy! a true labor of love. navigation: ch. i | ch. ii | ch. iii | masterlist | ao3

FRIC·TION | conflict or animosity caused by a clash of wills, temperaments, or opinions.

Taehyung yawns, interlacing his fingers and pulling his arms above his head in a stretch. He moves his neck side-to-side until he hears a satisfying crack, indicating the adequate stretch of the muscle. He waits for his computer to finish powering down before clicking the lamp on his desk off.

Taehyung’s hand reaches for his coat, but he hesitates as he looks over at your office.

The blue glare seems to amplify your stressed expression and the mildly dark crescents under your eyes.

“Ma’am?”

Taehyung quietly raps at the glass door to your office and it startles you from your concentration.

“Hmm...yes, Tae?”

You respond, mildly annoyed, as you pull a neon post-it note from its pad to stick to the desk.

Taehyung looks at you, his eyes forming wide circles as if he's ready to convince you of something. You can immediately sense his question before you exhale through your nose.

“It’s just that it’s getting late and I-” Taehyung starts, wrapping a hand around the glass doorframe.

You shake yourself out of your funk and look at him fondly, your brows coming together in compassion.

Before your mouth can form a response, the phone at Taehyung’s desk rings.

He gives you a small bow to pardon him before he jogs to his desk to pick up the phone.

“Yes, Sir. Yes, yes. Yes, yes, yes. Of course, Mr. Min,” Taehyung looks at you a few times, pointing at the phone. “I’ll send her right up.”

Taehyung's eyes widen at you before hanging up the phone.

You come to the threshold of your office, leaning your head on the frame.

“Was it Min?” You ask, and Taehyung nods in response.

“He wants to see you immediately. Didn’t specify what it was for.”

You chew at your lip and then dig in your pocket, tossing him your corporate card.

“I’m so sorry, Tae. Do you mind staying until I come back? There’s just a lot going on this week with the product launch, and I’m sure he’ll add more to my plate,” Taehyung puts his hand up and shakes it.

“Of course. Anything you need.” He responds, slipping the plastic card in his pocket.

“Thank you.” You whisper, your hands in a prayer. He bows as his eyes watch you walk off.

Taehyung rolls his chair up to his desk, and he hits a few digits on the dialpad.

“Gonna be another long one,” Taehyung sighs out into the receiver.

“Same here Tete,” The singsong voice responds, equally as disappointed.

“I should have your cock in my mouth right now, but I’m here ordering takeout for the third time this week,” The voice whines.

“Jimin!” Taehyung growls into the phone, but the sound quickly dissolves into a laugh.

“What’s so funny? It’s not good for my figure,” Taehyung can tell there’s a pout in Jimin’s voice.

“Especially my ass.” Jimin continues, the pout growing deeper.

“I love your ass. Shutup.” Taehyung chuckles. “You said you’re stuck here late too?”

“Yeah. I know the product launch is coming, but Joon never stops working.” Jimin whines. “He got called upstairs by Min a few seconds ago.” Taehyung gasps and sits up in his chair, rolling it closer to his desk.

“Hmm…” Taehyung hums. He places his elbows on the surface, using his free hand to ruffle his silver locks.

“What? You sound interested.” Jimin inquires, and Taehyung drums the desk with his fingers.

“My boss did too.”

✹✹✹

Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The slow ticking of the clock snips through your veins. You press the nail of your index finger into the flesh of your thumb, creating a small crescent-shaped indent in your skin.

You feel your heart picking up pace in your chest; steady thumps beating at your ribcage. You turn your hand around to stare at the indentation on your skin, waiting for it to vanish. It does, slowly.

You look at your boss through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of his office, his mouth busy moving in response to someone on the other end of the phone’s receiver. His hair is a textured bowl of platinum blonde, and his long, bony fingers move through a mass of papers on his desk.

You’re unsure of why you’ve been summoned; Yoongi never summoned anyone to his office unless it was serious. Being two days out from a product launch with you at the marketing helm...well, that was never a good sign.

After a moment, heavy, confident footsteps echo through the hall.

You see a man -- all legs in his dark, smartly tailored pants -- and he immediately diverts attention from your buzzing thoughts. His aura fills the entire space, and you sit up straight in your chair.

The man’s long wool trench coat brushes at his ankles, the black fabric stiff at the tips of his shoulders. He shrugs the coat off and carefully folds it in half, placing it on the chair behind him.

He suddenly feels your eyes on him from across the room, and his sharp gaze snaps over to meet yours. His eyes crinkle at the edges, and he extends his hand across the coffee table between the two of you.

“Kim Namjoon. I’m guessing you don’t know why you’re here either?” His voice comes out in a dark, velvety tone, catching you off guard. Your eyes can't help but fix on his as you shake his hand.

“Not a clue,” You respond coolly, and the dimples in his cheeks make themselves known.

You clear your throat as his eyes hang onto yours in return, and you feel your lips subtly part. Snapping yourself from his aura, you quickly release his hand and look around the room to find something else to concentrate on.

“Guess we’ll find out...” Namjoon shrugs, sliding back in his seat. You offer him a nod in response, nervously swallowing the exchange down your throat.

You then cross your legs, pretending to be busy on your phone.

After processing the interaction, Namjoon licks the inside of his cheek -- his head hanging down in a mild defeat for a second. He reaches into his pocket to pull out a tattered copy of The Art of Loving.

As he reads, your eyes peel from your phone and notice the way his turtleneck hugs his form, the dark fabric dipping in at the valley between his firm chest. A few lavender-tinted hairs slide from Namjoon’s slicked back style into his dark brown eyes, and his smokey gaze suddenly rises up to meet yours.

Fuck. He’s caught you.

Your eyes widen in a few seconds of brief panic and dart back down to your phone. You move your thumb around through the pages of apps; it’s all you can manage so suddenly.

Namjoon smiles to himself as he looks back down, quietly dipping a finger to his tongue to stick to a page of his book.

Before he’s able to turn the page, Yoongi pops his head from the office.

“You ready?” Yoongi asks, turning his head in your direction.

You nod and watch Yoongi shuffle back to his desk.

You inhale and smooth your skirt as you stand, noticing Namjoon’s eyes following your fingers as they glide over the red fabric adorning your curves. He calmly looks back down and blushes as you catch him; his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously as he pretends to continue on with his book.

“Wish me luck,” You notice the way his gaze lit something sexual afire in you, but you couldn’t pay any attention to that right now. “Nice meeting you.”

Namjoon looks up at you again, his fingers tense on the pages of the book.

“Likewise.” Namjoon’s smouldering eyes are fixed on you as he responds, and his gaze continues to follow you into Yoongi’s office.

You reach a chair across from Yoongi’s desk, sneaking a glance at Namjoon one last time over your shoulder.

Namjoon exhales the tension from his body as he watches you take a seat.

✹✹✹

You sit in the chair across from Yoongi’s desk, admiring the glittering cityscape behind him.

“I love being in here. It’s so refreshing.” You sigh, your eyes floating back to Yoongi.

“Yeah, kid? Well, it could be yours soon,” He chuckles. “I’m actually sick of looking at it. I’m ready to move onto my next venture.” Yoongi says this as if he’s in his forties, but he’s the youngest CEO in the vicinity. It's indicated by a giant, framed magazine cover of himself on a wall in his office: Top 30 Under 30 in Technology.

“C-Come again?” You murmur as you’re taken by surprise, and you sit up in your seat.

“You heard me. I want either you -- the CMO -- or Kim, the CTO running things," Yoongi says, standing up. He calls you over with his finger, motioning for you to sit in his chair. "Either of you are my best shot.”

You plop down in the cushy leather fabric, and your eyes meet Namjoon’s again. You purse your lips together and swirl the chair around to face the cityscape.

“How’s that feel?” Yoongi asks as he adjusts his cream turtleneck.

“Damn good.” You growl, your nails digging into the armrests.

“Well, there’s no reward without risk,” He says, and you raise your head in interest.

“Try me, Min.” You demand as you cross your legs, leaning back in the chair.

“I want you to launch the product in my place at TechX this week.” He mentions casually, and you shriek in response as you shoot up from your seat.

“You can’t be serious, Min!” You throw your hands on your hips. “Isn’t that in two days? In Vegas? And like, the largest product launch ever for this company? ” You inquire, looking over at Yoongi.

“See! You understand the gravity of this launch. And yeah, and I haven’t even finished the keynote yet,” Yoongi cackles, slapping his thigh. “Partner with Kim on the presentation. It’s in front of twenty-thousand too, so make it good.” He sits down, racking away at the keys on his laptop.

“You and Kim are both equally matched in terms of qualifications, so whoever can secure the biggest investors to ensure the longevity of the company will get a leg up in interviewing for the position.” Yoongi continues nonchalantly.

“Got it?” He taps one last key, stopping only to look up at you.

“Yes, Sir.” You nod, feeling a tightness creep into your chest.

✹✹✹

“Jimin, can you book my accommodations, please?”

Jimin hands Namjoon a bag of takeout before he rolls his chair up to his desk.

“Vegas, leaving tomorrow. Business class. King bed. That hotel that’s hosting the conference. You know the deal.” He rattles out, taking the bag of food.

“Of course, Sir.” Jimin nods, watching Namjoon walk into his office.

Jimin navigates through a few windows on his screen before settling on a corporate travel portal. He’s able to book the flight without a problem, but the hotel is where he’s running into issues. He quickly dials up Taehyung, waiting for the other side of the call to pick up.

“Are you seeing the same thing?” Jimin asks, and Taehyung clicks his tongue.

“No rooms, right-” Jimin starts. “Just one left…” Taehyung cuts in to finish his sentence.

“But shit, there’s your boss and my boss.” Jimin twirls his finger around the coiled cord, pondering what to do next.

Jimin hears a eureka snap on the other end of the line.

“Crazy ass idea here, Jiminie,” Taehyung chuckles.

"What is it Taehyungie?" Jimin purrs out, the curiosity rising in his voice at the end of the question.

“What if...they just stayed in the same room together? There’s only one King room available, and it’s the last room in the hotel. They’re both so...particular.” Taehyung continues, pressing his mouth into the receiver to keep his voice low.

Jimin throws his head back so far in laughter that his chair tips over. Taehyung hears a crash on the other end of the line, and hears shuffling noises as Jimin gets back up.

“Fell off your chair again?”

“Y-Yeah. God you're a genius! An evil one,” Jimin gathers his breaths.

“I mean...she’s fucking hot. And she’s single as fuck because she’s holed up here every night.” Taehyung whispers into the receiver, making sure to glance over to check that you’re immersed in work.

“And Joon’s smoking hot, too. He’d melt her icy panties right off,” Jimin clicks his tongue before he slaps his desk.

“Dammit, we’re doing it. Think about it. Off work by five? What a world.” Jimin chirps, clicking away at his screen. “To add an extra layer of fun, I’m checking the romance option.”

“Jimin! Jimin. They’re gonna kill each other.” Taehyung giggles, gasping to catch his breath.

“Either they share a room and let romance bloom, or its whack-a-roach at the Motel 6.” Jimin’s tone is confident, but it makes Taehyung erupt into another fit of laughter.

“What? What’s the worst that could happen?” Jimin commands a response, but Taehyung continues to laugh.

“Mmm...we lose our fucking jobs?” Taehyung responds darkly.

The two pause for a second, but continue laughing into their phones.

✹✹✹

“What’re the topline details for the trip, Tae?” You ask, sliding on your sunglasses and pulling a handle up on your hardside luggage.

“Your flight...as you know is in three hours, and your car’s outside right now.” Taehyung walks up to you, handing you an iPad with a copy of your itinerary. “You’ll be staying at the Palazzo where the conference is held, and check-in should be getting started as soon as you arrive.”

“Mwah. You’re the fucking best,” You chef’s kiss your fingers. “This is exactly why I hired you.”

You pull your luggage behind you, but Taehyung puts his hand up.

“Try not to get too excited. Please note that the room I was able to secure for you was the last room at the hotel two days before a conference of this size,” Taehyung says, pulling his hands behind his back.

“Okay...your point being?” You ask, pulling your sunglasses down to look into Taehyung’s eyes.

“Uhm, so, how do I put this?” Taehyung asks himself rhetorically, drawing his foot across the floor nervously.

“Tae...” You growl, your gaze slowly turning into a glare.

“Erm, you’ll have to share the room,” He starts.

“With Kim Namjoon.” He winces as he gets the words out.

Your mouth drops open in shock, and your iPad crashes to the floor.

✹✹✹

You peruse through a luxurious spread of food in the airport lounge: crabsticks with melted butter drizzling from them, exotic finger sandwiches, spreads and dips and the like. You grab tongs, dropping a few items onto a small plate. You quickly look through the drinks on display and decide on sparkling water.

Suddenly, you spot Namjoon arriving in the lounge and you quickly tuck the bottle of sparkling water into your armpit. You grab your plates, quickly followed by your luggage and make a mad dash for a secluded cubby in the back area.

You quickly throw on your headphones and prop up your iPad as you swipe through a few documents.

Just as you stuff a crabstick in your mouth, you feel a tap on your shoulder. You look at the fingers, then up the veined arm wrapped with white cotton fabric, and you see Namjoon.

He licks his lips, letting out a shy chuckle just before he speaks.

“Did you really just try to avoid me?”

“Mm-maybh, ‘nd wh-r about it?” You blink at him, your words unintelligible as you slowly chew a mouthful of seafood. You furrow your brows, slightly irked by Namjoon seeing you in this state.

“I’m sure those two jokesters told you,” He continues, and you shrug as you delicately bite a small cucumber and cream cheese sandwich. “That you’ll be my roommate for the next two days.”

“I didn’t hear it, and I won’t acknowledge it,” You retort, dropping the last bite of the sandwich in your mouth. “I’m going to find another room if it’s the last thing I do.” You dust crumbs from your hands but stop as Namjoon lets out another light chuckle.

“There aren’t anymore in the whole of Vegas. I checked myself. The only other hotel left in town is the Trump Tower,” He crosses his arms and then shakes his head. “And no one wants to be caught dead there.”

“Fuck!” You can’t help but scream out, and a few people turn to look in your direction. You bury your head in your hands, and comb your hands through your hair in frustration.

Namjoon taps your shoulder again and you look up.

“Finger sandwich?” He asks, licking a finger as you glare up at him.

✹✹✹

A flight attendant walks by the two of you to do a visual safety check, and you’re in the middle seat -- Namjoon in the aisle.

“Champagne? Champagne? Water?” Another attendant walks by with a tray full of alcoholic beverages. You spot her, reaching over Namjoon to grab a drink off the tray. She lets out a gasp, shock entangling her features.

The beverage quickly makes its way down your throat, and you slam the plastic cup back on the tray.

“Sorry. She’s not having the best of days,” Namjoon whispers to her and finishes his off as well, handing it to the attendant. She scoffs, continuing on down the aisle.

You shuffle your hand in your bag to locate your iPad, slipping it from its sleeve. As you look at the screen you sigh, your eyes roving over the deep cracks.

“Please turn all devices to airplane mode as we prepare for departure…”

The plane starts to rattle over the tarmac, turning to face a new direction every so often.

“What the heck happened to that thing?” Namjoon asks, leaning over to look at the fractured device.

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” You respond without looking at him. You swipe through a screen of apps before clicking into Keynote. “I scanned through the presentation, and Yoongi was nowhere near done. We’ll need to wrap up by tomorrow evening.”

“We’ll also need to submit some requests to the photographer and Design team so that the remaining graphics and specs will be ready by the time we land in six hours…”

Namjoon nods, watching as you swipe through the slides, breezing through improvements for each. Your words seem to fade out, and he finds himself enamored by your gung-ho nature as he watches you speak.

“Got it?” You ask and notice Namjoon is silent, causing you to turn your head in his direction.

You search his eyes for a response, noticing his pupils are blown as he looks at you. He covers his throat so as to not give away the unexpected heat rising up his skin.

“Sure thing. I’ll have the Product team get right on all of that,” Namjoon responds before he looks down to type an email into his phone.

You look back down at your iPad, nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tuck your hair behind your ear.

You take a second to press your head back to the seat as the plane takes off.

Namjoon reaches below the seat in front of him and pulls out his iPad to begin typing information into the slides. He glances over at you furiously typing and swiping before you grimace.

“Ow, fff-” You growl, looking at your index finger.

Blood starts to pool in a small cut, and Namjoon takes notice. You look over at him and watch him reach into his bag to pull out a travel-sized first aid kit. He takes out a small alcohol wipe and grabs your finger, pinching the towelette to it. You wince, sucking air in through your teeth.

“You should really get that fixed.” He says as he takes a small bandaid and covers the cut.

“Uhm, I will. Thank you.” You say quietly as you search his eyes, and then tuck your hair behind your ear again.

You break eye contact with him as your heart starts to patter in your chest...and fuck. You know you're in trouble from here on out.

Namjoon chuckles to himself through his nose as he takes a world newspaper from an attendant.

The newspaper covers his face and you sneak to observe your finger -- trying to not let a smile curl up on the edges of your lips.

✹✹✹

“Checking in?”

A woman asks you in a singsong voice and you nod, motioning for Namjoon to give you his identification card.

You're tired, hungry and irritable from the flight and certainly not willing to engage with this ultra-chipper woman right now.

“Ugh, beautiful! How long have you two been together?” She asks, smiling as she looks at the two of you.

“We’re not a couple and we’ve only just met, why do you ask?” You inquire, swiping through a few things on a digital screen anchored to the desk in front of you.

“Oh...you’re not?” You stop what you’re doing and look up at her. “No. We’re here for the TechX conference.”

The woman releases a nervous breath from her throat and readjusts her blouse.

“Well...oh my, the room I have booked for the two of you is one of our most romantic rooms.” She giggles out nervously, not sure what to do as she hands you a sleeve of keycards.

“I’m gonna fucking kill Taehyung when I get back,” You grumble, taking your credit card and the sleeve before you march off toward the elevator.

The elevator lobby is packed, and both you and Namjoon slip into a crowded elevator.

You find yourself suddenly sandwiched between the back of a woman and the front of Namjoon, and you tighten your muscles so you don’t make bodily contact with either of them.

The elevator jerks as it reaches the floor before yours, and Namjoon collapses over you. He looks down at you as his hands land to press on the wall on either side of your head as he holds himself up.

“God, sorry,” He groans as he waits for other people to exit before he can steadily stand on his own two feet. Your eyes grow wide as you look up at him, a prickly heat creeping up your throat. His face is so close to yours from the fall that you can feel his breaths on your skin.

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking over at you as he’s able to stand up straight.

Namjoon thinks nothing of the brief moment, but you gulp and give him a silent nod.

“This is us.” He says before he clears the way, watching you walk out in front of him.

✹✹✹

As you enter the room, you hear smooth jazz floating from a digital radio.

You drop to your knees: you see rose petals on the bed, a bucket with ice and champagne, a towel swan and a bouquet of additional roses wrapped with packages of chocolate. You drop your head into your hands and laugh out loud, and Namjoon looks down at you. His eyes quickly scan the room and he lets out a screech before he covers his stomach to laugh.

“I-I s-swear we were set up,” You gasp for air through your laughs. “God.”

“The wall between the shower and our room is frosted. Frosted!” Namjoon yells as he waves his hand through it to show you as you approach.

You both can’t help but giggle.

“God. I haven’t laughed that hard in so long,” You mention, swiping a tear hanging on at the edge of your eye. Namjoon smiles, his dimples lighting up his face.

There’s a sudden silence as your eyes meet, and you try to find something to busy yourself with -- deciding on unraveling the towel swan.

“Anyway, I’m gonna shower. We can just relax for now as we wait for everything to come in.” You quickly open your luggage and pull out a swimsuit and a cover up before heading into the bathroom.

“And oh. Please be an adult...no peeking?” You raise your brows as you pop your head from the bathroom.

Namjoon nods in agreement, beginning to unpack his luggage. He grabs his clothes nonchalantly to head to a nearby drawer, but he unintentionally catches your silhouette in the shower.

Namjoon gulps as he feels a tightness growing in his jeans. He clears his throat, continuing on with placing his clothes into the drawer.

✹✹✹

“Okay, okay, yes. I’m so sorry. It was the best we could do under the circumstances, and yes-” Taehyung nods his head as Jimin takes another bite of a sushi roll.

“Oof, was that her?” Jimin asks, swiping his mouth with a napkin.

“God, yeah. She’s pissed. And she yelled. She never yells at me, Jiminie.” Taehyung pouts.

Jimin laughs as he throws his head back, rubbing Taehyung’s back.

“Don’t worry Taehyungie,” He giggles. “I’m sure they’ll thank us soon enough.”

Taheyung smiles at him and opens his mouth to receive one of the rolls on his tongue.

The two giggle as they look at each other, mouths full.

✹✹✹

You swim in the Olympic-sized pool at the hotel before you pop up from underneath.

A hand runs through your hair to smooth it on your head before you start to float on your back. The intense rays of the sun start to heat up your skin, but you nearly moan at how good it feels.

Namjoon settles down in a lounge chair before he sees you with your eyes closed on the water.

You only have on a swimsuit, but in a man’s mind it was the near-equivalent of seeing you in your underwear.

Namjoon attempts to sneak away before you can spot him, but your eyes open just as he does.

“Hey! Kim Namjoon! Is that you?” You shout, paddling up to the edge of the pool. He grimaces and meets you at the edge, looking down at you.

“Did you really just try to avoid me?” You throw his question from earlier back at him, smirking.

“What? No.” Namjoon scoffs and clenches his jaw -- a bit delighted, a bit turned on.

You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows, still awaiting a real answer. His thoughts are still racing for a clever response and you can tell he’s caught off-guard.

You emerge from the water, toweling your hair and body. His eyes widen as he tries to keep them focused on your face, and you smirk at him again.

"Cat got your tongue?" You tease, wringing out your hair.

The devilish look in your eyes shoots straight to his water trunks and he presses his legs together. He quickly wraps the towel in his hand around his waist to cover himself before you detect anything, and your eyes follow his movements.

“Uhm, you know what...I don’t feel too well,” His voice trembles. “I’m gonna go back to the room.”

Namjoon takes off in a hurry, and you scoff as your brows come together in confusion.

✹✹✹

Namjoon lets out a few strained moans as he tugs at cock -- now rock hard and bulging with thick veins. His eyes squeeze shut as you come into memory, and he attempts to regulate his arousal through deep, frantic exhales.

The way the sun was kissing your body, the movement of the water as it drizzled down into the valley between your breasts, the smirk and banter that lit his desire alight. He gasps as he strokes his cock faster, his grip growing firmer by the second. He feels his balls tighten, his cock growing stiffer with lust.

He growls as he nears cumming, taking a moment to spit on in his hand and spread it generously over his shaft. He jerks his cock as fast as he can, his wrist snapping in different directions to switch up the sensation of his movements. He bucks into his hand at the last few moments, wondering what it’d be like to have you atop his cock instead.

Namjoon cries out before his cock hardens, his thick load pulsing in random patterns across his chest.

"Fuck," He suddenly hears footsteps floating down the hall and he swiftly pulls his trunks up.

He grabs a few tissues from the night table to quickly wipe himself off.

“Namjoon? I’m back,” You announce as you open the door. “The pool’s great, you can’t miss it.”

You enter and he tosses the tissues to the ground.

You observe that Namjoon’s form is rigid and that he’s sitting up on the bed as he scrolls through his phone. Something’s weird and quiet about the energy in the room, but you just shrug it off.

“Hey.” His tone is stoic, but you can sense his voice is caught in his throat before he clears it.

“Should we close out the final pieces of the presentation tonight?” Namjoon continues, his eyes now following you as you walk around the room.

“Sure thing, eight sound good?” You ask, smiling in his direction.

All he can do is look at you with his eyes wide and nod.

✹✹✹

“How’d you find this place?” You ask, picking up one of the books stacked on the table for display.

The rest of the bar is almost like a library -- straight from Beauty and the Beast. You look up and around as bookshelves from every angle are filled with books.

"Your drinks." A waiter arrives, carefully placing each drink on the table.

"I like to wander and I stumbled upon it. I frequent here when I come to Vegas," Namjoon smiles at you, satisfied with himself. "It's a nice place to unwind and get work done outside of the hotel." You nod, impressed with his response.

"I love all of the giant KAWS figurines here, too," You mention, and he turns his head to look at you. "The valuation on those in a few years is gonna be insane."

"Oh, you like art, too?" He tries to hide the gush in his voice, but you chuckle to yourself.

"Sure do." You reply, taking a few small sips from your cup as you look at him.

As Namjoon sips at his Jameson whiskey on the rocks, you can't help but absorb his carefully slicked back hair and the leather jacket on his frame.

Namjoon notices from his peripheral and bites his lip as subtly as he can, drawing his iPad from his briefcase.

After a few minutes, he looks up from what he's typing to see you've already downed half of your drink. You drop the cup from your lips and your eyes grow wide with embarrassment.

"God, sorry, please don't judge me," You chuckle as you peel the drink from your mouth and lick your lips. "They only have good French Martinis in two places in the world. Vegas, and Europe."

Namjoon chuckles back at you, and you notice his eyes float down to your lips.

Your breath quickens for a second, but he breaks eye contact by looking down. He purses his lips and his dimples pop out before he looks at you through his lashes.

"You've got a little something..." He motions at the foam on your upper lip, and you attempt to swipe it with your tongue. He shakes his head a few times as you continue licking your lips to no avail.

"May I?" He asks warmly. With a nod from you, he takes a miniature napkin to wipe your top lip. He's so close that you can smell the spice of his cologne, and you look into his eyes.

A slight panic forms in his gaze before he pulls back.

“There.” He says without looking at you, placing the napkin on the table.

Both of you shake the interaction off, and you reach into your bag to pull out your iPad.

"I had Taehyung drop in the graphics. All we have to do is finish up the text," You say as you start to type, and Namjoon brings his focus back to his slides.

"Got it. I had Jimin drop in the brief outline he retrieved from the Product Lead, so we can just work from that as we go along." Namjoon chimes in, and you nod.

"I'll activate the full social strategy and content team back at the office," You continue as you type. "I'll let them know that we're almost locked so they can get ready to fire up the site and social promotions."

Namjoon smiles to himself again, absorbing the incredible synergy between the two of you. It only pushes him harder...and makes him harder. He clenches his jaw as he feels the sensation filling his lower half, but he shakes his leg to stay focused.

"Is there something wrong?" You ask, looking down at his leg.

"Hmm?" He asks, not even noticing his leg still moving.

"Oh!" He says looking down and stretching his foot out, but it bumps yours instead.

"Fuck. Sorry!" He yelps. You chortle, continuing on with writing.

You look at him for a bit through your peripheral, admiring his absolute focus on the task at hand. He picks up a pen to draw it around his plump lips, and you can't help but feel a twinge between your thighs. You inhale and let out a breath to take your focus off the sensation.

Just as you do, a crackle of thunder rips through the air and a few customers gasp and break into a din.

You and Namjoon look at each other, and a few flashes of lightning light up each of your features in the dim bar.

"We should get going before it rains," Namjoon says as he starts to pack his bag. "We can finish this up at the hotel."

You follow suit.

✹✹✹

As the two of you walk outside, the rain begins to trickle. Despite the warm Vegas air from earlier, the temperature significantly dropped in the evening and it made you shiver.

Namjoon notices, and despite him being cold -- he drops his coat on your shoulders.

"Oh. Please don't do that on my behalf." You say as you look up at him, but he keeps walking.

You couldn't worry long, noticing as raindrops begin to soak Namjoon's white tee.

"Just up here," He looks down at you and points at the hotel, but it suddenly starts to pour. He grabs your hand to quickly pull you across the street before the light changes, and you pull his jacket over your head.

Namjoon doesn't stop running until the two of you land in an empty elevator. He sighs, slicking his wet hair back with a hand. You notice that his shirt is soaked, seeping into the grooves of his firm chest and abdomen.

You arrive at the door to your room, nervously shuffling in your bag for your keycard. You can feel Namjoon's warm breath at the back of your neck, and you feel goosebumps form on your skin.

"Here." He says, reaching around you to insert his key. You feel as his body heat radiates around you as you walk through the door.

As you enter the room you shiver at the blast of air conditioning -- pulling Namjoon's coat further over your shoulders.

Namjoon returns from the bathroom with a towel, and removes his jacket from your frame.

“Sorry, it’s totally my fault for suggesting a place so far away,” He wraps the warm fluffy towel over your shoulders, and you close your eyes in comfort.

"No, it was really fun," You open your eyes after a few seconds, shaking your head as you look up at him.

Namjoon almost looks away as you open your eyes, but his gaze fixates on yours -- causing you to lose the breath in your throat as you quickly look down.

"Thank you." Your voice only manages to come out in a whisper. You somehow get the courage to let your eyes scan his body, and then look back up to meet him still looking down at you.

Namjoon’s chest lightly rises and falls as neither of you break eye contact -- his eyes floating to your lips. He tucks your hair behind your ear, and your breath catches in your throat. His thumb moves to trace over your jawline and your bottom lip as he moves in to hover his lips over yours.

The air buzzes with a sparkling heat as your lips brush together -- neither of you wanting to be the first to make a move.

“We shouldn’t do this, right?” He whispers, the tip of his nose grazing over yours.

"No..." You whisper back, a bated desire in your voice.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You give him a slow nod, drawing your bottom lip in-between your teeth.

You lick your lips and he tilts your head to the side, his own lips inside the shell of your ear before he speaks.

“That red dress...from yesterday? It was all I could think about for the rest of the night.” The deep vibrations from his voice causes you to let out a satisfied moan as you tilt your head back.

“Does that turn you on?” He asks, his hands sliding down your body to grip your hips.

A heated lust overcomes you, and you let your lips feverishly embrace his. Your hands roam up his wet body and land over his shoulders before you pull him closer to you by the back of his neck. The momentum dizzies you both and your back slams into the wall.

His hands move to your waist as he covers you, pulling you flush against his hard, wet body. It causes your lips to part, and he slips his searing tongue into your mouth. You easily lose the upper hand as he grips your ass, causing you to let out a whine into his mouth. His plush lips kiss at your neck, and you run your hands through his damp hair as his kisses reach your collarbones.

Namjoon moves to wipe all of the items off a cabinet near you, and the chocolate and roses crash to the floor. He throws you on top of the surface, his lips eagerly gliding over yours.

Namjoon's hands roam up your dress and on the outside of your thighs as his fingers tuck under the top of the fabric of your underwear. He tugs at the fabric as if he's going to remove it, but he jerks it up hard instead -- soothing the growing ache between your thighs. He twists the fabric in a bunch so he can keep pulling at it in intervals to soothe your clit.

Your head falls back in desperation and he takes the opportunity to suck a hickey into the exposed skin. He nibbles at the skin harder and you gasp, gripping the back of his mullet.

Namjoon growls into your ear as you pull his hair, and yanks your underwear down each of your thighs.

Just as he does, he feels his wrist buzz. He pulls from your lips to look at his watch.

[Assistant: Park Jimin.]

Namjoon lets out a long exhale through his nose. He rests his forehead on yours, both of your lips still swollen and vibrating from the session.

"I have to take this," He lets out in a deep exhale before touching a green icon on his watch to receive the call.

"Are you alright, Sir?" Jimin asks, hearing Namjoon’s intense breaths cooling on his end.

"Just came from the gym, don't worry about me. What’s on fire?" He breathes out, and the edges of your lips curl upward at the lie.

"Nothing at all, Sir. I've just called to give your daily rundown as requested." Namjoon sighs, forgetting it’s something he did in fact ask for.

“Can I call you back in five?” Namjoon asks, and you shake your head.

After Jimin hangs up, Namjoon immediately dives back into your lips. You savor it for a few seconds, but you tease him a few times as you pull away.

"I think we should finish up in the morning and get to bed," You whisper, your hand floating down his cheek. "Long day tomorrow." You bite your lip as you look into his eyes.

Namjoon lightly growls in disappointment as he pulls you down from the top of the cabinet.

You lift your hair up into a ponytail, and you turn around and look over your shoulder.

“Mind helping me with the zip?” You ask, and you feel the heat from his breath at the back of your neck drawing goosebumps from your skin. His breaths shallow out with every inch of the zip, and he lets out a light groan as it ends at the curve of your back -- just before your ass.

“Thanks.” You whisper as you head toward the bathroom, looking over your shoulder once more with a grin before you disappear around the corner.

Namjoon waits to make sure you’re gone before he screams into his fist out of frustration.

✹✹✹

“Seeya, I’m gonna head over to the conference hall to start getting prepped,” Namjoon mentions, stuffing a croissant in his mouth as he picks up his briefcase. “You said you’ll be a few minutes behind me, right?” He asks, using his free hand to push his glasses up his nose.

“Uhm, sure! Yes! Yesyesyesyes. Have a nice day!” You nod eagerly, your eyes wide as you watch him head toward the door. He furrows his brows, finding you a bit too enthusiastic.

As the door shuts, you hear his footfalls disappear down the hall and you toss your robe to the ground.

You take in a deep inhale. You knew you needed to be focused for this presentation, and you definitely couldn't have what happened last night top of mind.

Where to start? Him eyeing you in the office? The wet t-shirt? Oh, yes. There.

You sink down in the bed and slowly spread your legs, your fingers gliding over your already wet lips. You gasp in pleasure as you recall his plump lips dragging on your neck -- his teeth embedded in the sensitive flesh. It’s enough for you to dip a finger inside of yourself -- make it two -- before you let out a moan.

The thing that really made you wet, though, was his mind. The fucking book bar? Kudos. His knowledge of the product? Points. A tattered copy of a book about love? You were practically dripping down your thighs at the thought. Those nerdy glasses he wore before he left this morning? Fuck me.

It’s all enough to make you cum until-

Bzz. Beep.

You quickly draw the covers up on your frame and you can feel your cheeks burning as Namjoon enters the room.

“I...left my coffee...” He says cautiously, seeing your robe on the floor before his eyes meet yours. “Uhm, sorry?” His voice comes out in a high, questioning pitch -- and he grabs his coffee before he hurries himself out the door.

As the door shuts, you kick your feet around in the bed and then slap your forehead.

Fuck. He caught you.

#bts imagine #btssmutclub #btsbookclub #bangtanidx #bts smut #namjoon fanfiction #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #bts fanfiction

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jaderabbitt · 4 years ago

Note

Hahaha i was rewatching phantom blood and just remembered that Dio was going to be a lawyer so 👉👈 how about some Lawyer Dio Brando NSFW x shy assistant please ? 😳

your wish is my command. i loved this prompt a lot, but i will admit that i think i could’ve done a lot better with this. i couldn’t for the life of me agree on one way to execute this, so i kinda just kept writing. and writing. and now it’s 1.4k words.

haha.

oops.

hope you like it! and for the anon who asked for Bruno, don’t you worry your pretty little head, i’m working on it!

Discusses: shy!reader, fem!reader, pet names, mentions of voyeurism, NSFW, straight smut, filth

Setting down the coffee cup on Dio’s desk, you took some time to reorganize the papers and metal racks before he arrived. You always came in to the firm early to make sure that the impending work you knew was coming wouldn’t overload you. Dio had a tendency to pass off the work he couldn’t be bothered to do to you, but you guessed that’s really the reason you were hired. Though, you couldn’t for the life of you find out why you were chosen over the other, more qualified applicants that you had seen when you were waiting for your interview. Truthfully, you thought that Dio disliked you.

Sighing to yourself, you walked towards the floor to ceiling windows, looking down at the city below you. Even though the United Kingdom was known for its permanent rainy days, you were pleasantly surprised to see the sun rising. You thought of how Dio would look with the sunny backdrop, and the vision in your mind made you blush. His blonde hair would be golden in the rays of the sun, his blood red eyes darkened with lust, that unwavering smirk with incisors that were a little too sharp.

It gave you shudders, but before you resigned to stop thinking about your boss so dirtily, you felt a hand on your lower back. Squealing in surprise, your face flushed quickly with heat when you saw the very person you had been having nasty thoughts about.

“M-Mr. Brando! I didn’t hear you come in!” you managed to stammer out, but it only served to make his lips curl up deviously. “Stating the obvious, now are we?” he said, and though the statement sounded condescending, his tone was anything but. It was laced with playfulness, something you weren’t expecting to come from your new boss. His hand laid a little too close to your bottom, but it was gone as quick as it came. You tried not to think much of the touch, but you couldn’t help the spark of hope and desire that came from thinking it was intentional.

The day continued on like any other, with you sneaking glances at Dio, and him smirking when he raised his eyes to catch you. You always quickly looked somewhere else, desperately trying to seem inconspicuous, but you ultimately failed every time.

After receiving a phone call, you buzzed a client in to meet with Dio. You felt a slight pang of disappointment that you were no longer going to be alone with him for a while, but you quickly dispersed that thought. Instead, you made sure that tea was available for the meeting, and quickly debriefed him on what to expect from the client. You were expecting the usual grunt and nod of acknowledgement, but instead you received a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and a “thank you, darling.”

You almost fainted then and there.

Finally, the end of your shift was coming to a close, but you tended to stay a bit longer to finish up anyways. You were usually alone on your floor, and it served for a great working environment. Only, tonight, Dio decided he’d accompany you.

What luck you had.

Seeing him remove his suit blazer and roll up his dress shirt sleeves had ignited a flame in your core, and you weren’t sure if you’d even be able to focus on your work anymore. You were so occupied with trying to busy yourself and take your mind off of your unnervingly hot boss across the room, you didn’t notice him sneaking up behind you.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice how you’ve been looking at me all day, love?” he whispered gruffly into your ear, his carefully manicured hands coming up to rest at your shoulders. You found yourself naturally easing into his touch before realizing the situation you were in.

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about, sir…” you meekly responded, earning you a deep chuckle and a chair spin so that you were facing him. “Oh, but I think you do. In fact, I would wager that you did it on purpose,” he growled out, crimson eyes darkened with lust, narrowed at your squirming body. Dio made a show of looking you up and down and licking his lips before finally settling on your own. He leaned in and captured your lips with his own, and before you could even think about reciprocating, there were hands roughly separating your thighs. You gasped in surprise, and it allowed him access to explore within your mouth with his tongue. When he pulled off, there was a line of saliva connecting the both of you, and the grips on your thighs seemed to get harder when he glanced down at the crevice between.

“You dare lie to me when you’re this wet? Tsk, tsk. You should know better, you little minx.”

You went to protest, but you couldn’t find any words when a finger trailed a line back and forth on your clothed cunt, making a squelching sound on each pass through. You bit on the knuckle of your index finger to suppress the moans Dio elicited through his actions. Trying to coerce those sounds out of you, he hiked your skirt up and thrusted two of his large fingers underneath your panties and into your dripping hole. You squealed and moaned out before you could catch yourself, easily becoming embarrassed and covering your heated face with your hands.

“There we go, kitten. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he affirmed, picking up the pace of his fingers and stretching you out, readying you for something much larger. Your whimpers didn’t go unnoticed, and when you peeked between your fingers, you noticed how hard he was against his slacks, and just how big the bulge seemed to be. You moaned simply at the sight, and once more at the feeling of his fingers leaving your insides.

Dio took his time in licking his fingers, humming at the taste and smirking at your shocked expression. Impatient as he is, he swiftly unzipped himself from his slacks, and you were left to come to terms that you would soon be torn in two by your boss. You couldn’t help but stare at the monster that resided between his legs, but were interrupted by the hand lifting your chin so that you made eye contact with him.

“My eyes are up here, pet.”

He laughed at the way you pouted, but it was quickly erased by how your panties were yanked out from under your skirt, and you couldn’t help but gape at Dio when he pocketed them. In the blink of an eye, you were pulled further down the chair, legs spread to the point where they were touching the armrests, and you screamed out when you felt Dio plunge his cock straight into your cunt. “Hush now, pet. You wouldn’t want to alert the rest of the building now, would you?” he groaned out, and that’s when you realized he was only halfway in, as he seemed to sink further and further into you. The walls of your pussy clenched around him, and he scolded you, saying that you needed to relax, lest he actually tear you apart.

When he bottomed out, you swore you could feel him touching your cervix, and you were reduced to a mess of moans and whines. Suddenly, his hand was around your neck as if it were a choker, applying pressure as he started roughly pounding into you. You couldn’t do anything but scream silent screams, your mouth hanging open and your hole full of him. Dio seemed as if this didn’t even make him break a sweat, easily breaking you apart with his cock.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the coil in your lower half, and he knew it was coming. You held your own thighs spread apart as the hand that wasn’t around your throat reached down you swipe back and forth at your clit. He rubbed circles into it, and you gasped out his name. “Say it again. Scream who you belong to!” he growled out, and you did exactly that. You screamed out his name in pure ecstasy, climaxing at that moment. But, that didn’t make him falter. He continued ramming his cock into your cunt, overstimulating you to the point where it was becoming painful. You were relieved to feel him still, as deep as he could possibly be. You bit your lip and whimpered at the feeling of his warm spurts of cum painting your insides. All you heard in your post-orgasm haze was your own panting, unknowing that this was just the appetizer.

He was going to take you as a full course meal.

#dio brando x reader #dio x reader #jjba x reader #jjba #reader insert #fem!reader

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marmosa · 4 years ago

Text

evenings with you.

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: none!

A/N: harry potter won’t be the only thing i write about, but for now it might be since a few of my friends are really rekindling my love for the universe (not jkr tho, fuck that bitch).

***

The common room buzzed with people running about, chatting among themselves and waiting impatiently for their slower friends so they could make their way down to the stand for this week’s Quidditch match. The fireplace crackled nearby, a sharp undercurrent beneath all the busy conversation.

“You know [y/n],” Evie spoke up, leaning her head back over the armrest of the couch, “red eyeliner really suits you, you should wear it more often.”

“Thank you darling, I’m not so sure it’ll become a regular part of my attire, but it sure does make spirit wear even more fun to wear,” [y/n] chuckled, glancing at her reflection in the tiny handheld mirror she kept with her at almost all times.

“Whatever you say. I personally think that that Weasley boy you fancy is going to love it, he does seem like the type to enjoy bold colors,” Evie hummed pretending to ignore the daggers being shot at her form [y/n]’s eyes.

“Would you quiet down! What if he hears you? We’re all Gryffindor’s you absolute fool,” [y/n] hissed, reaching forward and imitating a strangling motion.

“I’ll start quieting down once you two go on a proper date, it’s so boring that you’re still taking this long to have finally made a first move,” Evie drawled, pushing herself into a sitting position, “besides-,” she paused and small smirk drawing onto her features, “speak of the red-headed devil.”

[y/n]’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she quickly composed herself, panicking on not only what she planned to say but why he’d decided to approach them in the first place.

“Hey Evie,” Fred chimed cheerily, turning to [y/n] with a more reserved gentleness, “hey [y/n]. You two heading down the pitch yet? The game starts soon and we’re gonna need as much support as we can get.”

“You boys don’t need the flattery, your ego’s already too big from the last two games you absolutely crushed,” Evie scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully at Fred’s request.

“Hey, you never know how things can turn out. One wrong move and our winning streak could fall apart!” Fred feigned offence at her remark, placing his hand over his chest.

“If you really need a good luck charm, I heard [y/n]’s kisses are one of the most lucky charms there is,” Evie teased, sticking her tongue out at her now hot-faced friend.

“I’m not kissing anybody, especially not a quidditch player, it’ll go straight to their head,” [y/n] muttered, tipping her head up in pride to prove her point, “besides, Fred here does just fine without any sort of charm.”

“Now don’t be that way [y/n], that’s just rude. You know I’ll take any luck I can get though, if the offer still stands,” Fred teased, plopping down on the sofa next to her and tapping his cheek suggestively.

“Watch it,” [y/n] grit, elbowing him in the side.

“Hey! Careful with the merchandise! I have a match to win,” Fred frowned, holding his hands up to protect himself from any other preemptive attacks.

“Whatever,” [y/n] muttered, rolling her eyes, “If you so desperately need a good luck charm, here.” She reached behind her and un-clipped her necklace, dangling the golden pendent with the heart charm at the end in front of him.

“Are you sure,” Fred whispered, eyeing the chain cautiously, “I wouldn’t want to break it.”

“It’s not fragile, besides, you can repair it with a quick spell can’t you?” She grinned, letting the chain sink into his palm.

He pressed his lips together to hide his smile, making quick work of putting on the necklace and tucking the pendent under his collar, grinning widely at an amused [y/n], “I have a good feeling about this match.”

“You say that about every match,” [y/n] teased.

“I mean it this time,” Fred beamed, looking up as Oliver called his name from the portraits entrance, “Well, I must take my leave. Send me your luck from the stands ladies, I bid you adieu,” He nodded before jogging off, scooping his helmet off a nearby table as he ducked out of the common room.

Before [y/n] could get lost in her thought, Evie squealed loudly and nearly pounced on her, squeezing her arm, “You two were so flirting! That has got to be the cutest thing I have ever seen, I can’t believe you two haven’t made out already!”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” [y/n] bit back a smile, leaning her head onto her friends shoulder as she allowed herself to bask in the warmth of their small interaction, “Anyways, we have a match to go watch, up and at it now, yeah?”

“Hot chocolate and gossip afterwards?” Evie asked, shimmying excitedly.

“Wouldn’t want to do anything else,” [y/n] grinned.

***

“YOU COULD’VE HIT THAT, FOCUS WEASLEY, FOCUS!” [y/n] screamed from the stands, her cries probably getting drowned out among the other student’s commotion.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have teased him so much, it might’ve rubbed off,” Evie sighed, nudging [y/n] slightly, trying to gain her attention.

“Probably,” [y/n] muttered, furrowing her brows as she eyes the scoreboard, the players, and the commentators, “should’ve given him that kiss,” [y/n] continued, more to herself than anyone else.

The game continued on, both Gryffindor and Hufflepuff holding their own as the time ticked by to the end. As soon as it had started it had finished, Gryffindor scoring the victory by less than 15 extra points, relief flooding over the students packing into the stands.

“I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT!” [y/n] called out from the stands, as the students jeered and began making their way out of the stands and back into the castle.

Fred caught her eye as he soared around on his broom, beaming wider than she could’ve hoped for, waving at her frantically and nearly falling off his broom in the process. She laughed to herself, muttering a few insults under her breath as Evie dragged her along, insistent on getting their favored spot in the commons before anyone else could.

The Gryffindor victory did nothing short of energize the entire house, the common room nearly shaking with joy and pride, drinks and snacks alike being shared like the last supper they’d ever have.

Evie cheered with everyone else, still bounding on the same adrenaline high everyone else was. She plopped back down on the couch, wrapping an arm around [y/n]‘s shoulder, “Have you seen Weasley yet?” she questioned as quiet as she could against the deafening noise of the common room.

“Nope, not yet, he’s probably off doing something stupid with the boys,” [y/n] shrugged, a little bummed she didn’t get to see him, but still overjoyed with the outcome of the match nonetheless.

The night passed by in a blur. A few hours packed full of speeches, songs, jokes, stories, and food, everyone eventually falling upon the inevitable crash of exhaustion. Nearly everyone but a few stragglers had retired to their rooms for the night, the common room surprisingly clean for how much chaos had already ensued.

“I’m heading to bed, you coming?” Evie offered, pushing herself off the couch and onto her feet, sore from the hours of insistent standing.

“I think I’m going to hang around for a bit, you head up. I’ll make sure I’m as quiet as mouse when I return, won’t wake a soul,” [y/n] promised, waving goodbye to her friend as she snuggled into the couch, the crackling of the fireplace becoming the background to her nightly pondering session.

She remained engulfed in thought as she recalled the events of today, he face running hot as she remembered Fred’s witty remarks along with the thought that he was indeed wearing her necklace. Her mind reeled enough that she didn’t notice the mop of red hair rapidly approaching her as silent as could be.

“[y/n]!” Fred whisper-yelled, startling her out of her reverie.

“Shit-! Fred? Don’t scare me like that you moron,” She hissed, shooting her leg out to kick at his defenseless legs.

He hopped backwards and situated himself on the couch as soon as she’d stopped kicking, “Still got some fight in you huh, the party didn’t wear you out?”

“Of course it did, I’m just,” She shrugged, unsure of what to answer, “congrats on the win today. You did a,” she paused, pondering her words, “average job. Could’ve been better.”

Fred’s mouth dropped open as he absorbed her words, shocked and amused that she’d jab at him like that, “You are just being a little spitfire today, aren’t you?”

“And what’s it to you, Weasley,” She hummed, turning her body to face him, knees still hugged tightly to her chest.

“I’m starting to think you hate me,” He mumbled, pouting and leaning his head onto the back of the couch.

“Close but not quite. You can be charming,” She smiled, “sometimes.”

“You know what,” he sighed, “I’ll take it. Perhaps me keeping your necklace in tact will earn me a few points?”

He pulled the charm out from under the collar of his hoodie, holding it out like a medal of honor. [y/n] leaned forward and held the pendant in her palm, examining the gold heart for any dents or scratches. Fred held his breath, batting his eyes a few times at how close she was, the smell of cinnamon and sugar heavy coming faintly from her.

“It seems you did keep it in tact, I’m impressed,” She grinned, letting the pendant swing back onto his chest, tapping it reassuringly with her fingertips.

“I-uh, thanks,” He stumbled over his words, still recuperating from her closeness, “Do you- do you want it back?”

“Hm? Oh no, you can keep it. I have a feeling you could use some luck on your side,” She hummed, leaning her chin into the divot between her two knees, looking up at him with inviting eyes.

“I’ll cherish it until my dying day,” He proclaimed proudly, squaring his shoulder for a moment to enlarge his frame.

“I have no doubt in my mind that you will,” she giggled, her heart being overtaken by a fuzzy feeling, head lolling to the side.

Fred glanced down at her sleepy face, her eyes blinking in a slow manner and her body moving sluggishly, “I think you’re ready for bed.”

“Says who? I’m not even tired,” [y/n] yawned, defeating her entire point.

“Here, I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll give you my hoodie, just like you gave me your necklace, if you go to sleep right now,” Fred offered, heart hammering in his chest as he realized just how direct he was probably being with such a request.

Her eyes widened slightly before sinking back down, a lazy smile pulling its way onto her lips, “It’s a deal.”

Fred grinned widely, yanking his hoodie off by the back of the collar, stretching his arms up and over his head to get it off.

[y/n] couldn’t help but catch the quick glimpse of his toned abdomen that wormed its way into the open as he forced off his hoodie. She quickly composed herself, trying to not let him see how her eyes were nearly ready to pop out of their sockets.

“Here, I hope my cologne isn’t too overbearing,” He handed her the hoodie, the locket now on display in the center of divot in his neck.

She took it graciously and inhaled his scent out of curiosity, her brain going fuzzy at the lovely smell of ceder-wood, evergreen, and mint that filled her nose, “It’s actually really nice, keep buying whatever cologne this is.”

“Why thank you, that’s actually very kind of you,” Fred smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Of course,” She smiled, “well, a deal’s a deal. Off to bed I go.”

“Yeah, Of course.”

The two of them stood up, [y/n] pulling on the hoodie and basking in the glow that was Fred. He looked down at her as she fiddled with the sleeves, turning side to side to get a feel for it, the gesture itself making Fred’s face burn red.

“I think I look ready to take on the world, what’s your take?” She chuckled, being slightly taken aback when she looked back up to see Fred covering the bottom half of his face with his hand, the tips of his ears burning red.

“It, yeah, it looks great. Grey suits you, you should wear it more often,” he nodded, still refusing to make eye contact with her.

“Thanks,” [y/n] nodded, suddenly embarrassed to have even agreed to take it in the first place, “Well, goodnight Fred.”

“Goodnight [y/n],” he passed her a tight-lipped smile as she shuffled off to her dormitory, he mind suddenly clouded with doubt.

“She’s gonna be the death of me,” Fred muttered to himself, watching her disappear around the bend, cursing under his breath and heading off to his own dormitory.

***

“HE GAVE YOU HIS HOODIE!” Evie shouted, shaking [y/n] awake as their other two roommates chuckled to themselves, running around as they got ready for breakfast.

“That he did,” [y/n] replied in a groggy voice, stretching out her limbs as Evie paced back and forth next to her bed, going on about “a date not being far behind” or something of the sort.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow your roll there chief,” [y/n] sat up and rubbed at her sunken eyes, “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Evie stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look at [y/n] with complete disbelief, “You’re kidding right? That’s the most idiotic thing that has ever come out of your mouth, and you’ve said some pretty dumb shit.”

“It’s not idiotic! He looked at me weird when I put it on and he probably regret it anyways, it’s not that big of a deal, I’ll just return it to him when we go to breakfast,” [y/n] muttered, sitting up and beginning to work on her morning routine.

“You’re ridiculous, I hope you know that,” Evie scoffed, returning to whatever she had been doing before she decided to corner [y/n].

“Mhm,” [y/n] replied.

The Great Hall was already bustling with students when the two girls arrived, both of them eyeing where they’d be sitting. They settled on a spot between two second years and a few people from the upper years, plopping down in the seats.

[y/n] couldn’t help by feel nauseous as she cradled the sweatshirt in her lap, glancing up and down the table for the boy that was most likely obliviously responsible for making her regret every advance she’d ever made on him.

Evie looked over at her poor friend, reaching over and rubbing her back softly to try and sooth the obvious nervous knot that had tied itself in her stomach, “It’s okay. Things will work out just fine.”

Evie had her downfalls as a friend, insisting that [y/n] be bolder and more direct with the way she carried herself day to day, but when it came down to it she loved her friends dearly and would put them above anything else.

“Thanks,” [y/n] muttered, poking the french toast around on her plate.

The two finished their food quickly, [y/n] not taking much time at all as she had chosen not to eat very much anyway. As they made their way out to go spend some free time before their first class of the day, the same mop of fiery red hair made its appearance.

“Hey [y/n], Evie, how’re you on this fine morning,” Fred smiled, stopping in his tracks as his brother George and their pal Seamus continued on their way to secure spots at the table.

“Just fine thank you Fred,” Evie smiled softly, “I was actually heading to the library to study before my potions exam, so I’ll leave you and [y/n] to it,” she gave [y/n]’s shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before heading off.

“Good morning [y/n],” Fred chirped, a nervous edge to his voice as he stared down at [y/n].

“Good morning Fred,” [y/n] smiled halfheartedly, rocking back and forth on her heels as she worked up the courage to confirm her supposed rejection.

“What’cha got there,” Fred quipped, pointing to the object clutched in [y/n]’s hands behind her back, “you’re not hiding things from me now, are ya?”

“Not at all,” [y/n] chuckled sadly, “It’s, uhm, it’s actually your hoodie,” she held it out in front of her, refusing to make direct eye contact with Fred.

Fred’s face fell, not even trying to hide his disappointment at this sudden turn of events, “Oh,” he reached forward and took it from her.

“I figured you’d probably want it back, and I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, cause y’know were not, like dating, or anything. And you probably wanted it back anyway, it was stupid of me to take it in the first place,” She started to ramble, heart wrenching at the absolutely broken expression Fred was giving her right then, her mind screaming abort as she wished she could have just taken everything back right then and there.

“I get it,” Fred muttered, his words clipped short, “Thanks for the hoodie back.”

Without another word Fred turned on his heel and walked into the Great Hall, leaving behind a cracked [y/n] and blanket of regret. [y/n] started choking up, swiveling around and sprinting to her dormitory, her robes billowing behind her.

What had she done?

***

The next week had passed by painfully slow. Each day felt like a stab to the gut, the blade being turned deeper and deeper into the wound. [y/n] was miserable, no matter what he friends tries, she was a lost cause, sucked into her own regret. Evie did everything in her power to get [y/n] to warm up again, but she knew it was no particular use.

Fred had chosen to give [y/n] the silent treatment, even going as far as to avoid her in the halls, common room, quidditch field, you name it. That week had absolutely broken the two of them. [y/n] had never been so upset over a guy before, that it was exhausting for her to even focus on anything else but the sour taste in her mouth. Fred wasn’t taking it well either, his brother having to practically drag him out of bed for quidditch practice.

This week had a rapidly approaching quidditch match, Gryffindor against Ravenclaw, and the prospects were not looking too well on Gryffindor’s side. Students had taken to relaxing a bit as they slowed down school work to let the quidditch players prep and the other students rest.

Evie had to go to breakfast herself the morning before the quidditch math as [y/n] had opted to sleep in as she had two free periods that morning. [y/n] wanted to curl up and cry more than anything, the locket she’d lent Fred swinging beneath her shut eyelids almost taunting her. She knew prospects were looking grim for their victory, Oliver Wood would have a breakdown nearly every other day leading up to the match, and she could only wonder how Fred was taking the teams fruitless practices.

Fred, on the other hand, spent that morning curled up in the common rooms, toying with the locket as he stared out the windows towards the field he’d be playing on later that day. He felt sick to his stomach, his good luck charm feeling less than lucky that day. More than anything, he wondered what he’d done to get her to be so repulsed by his advance, his eyes watering at the notion that she’d done nothing more than respond to him in a friendly manner that he’d just selfishly misinterpreted.

The quidditch match had finally arrived, the team stalking out of the common room as the other students sat in lackluster enthusiasm, a few of the upper years demanding they show at least a little spirit to hype the team. It was a wasted effort, but the stand still vibrated with anticipation nonetheless.

The match came and went and it was painful to watch to say the least. Gryffindor did so poorly it was as if you were watching a completely different team. Students left the stands that afternoon, solemn and sad, totally bummed at the outcome.

[y/n] got caught in the current and ended up at the back of the pack as they filed out of the stands, her hands tucked in her pockets to keep them warm from the cool breeze. She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and felt a pang in her chest as she recalled just how cozy she’d felt in Fred’s hoodie. Cursing under her breath, she descended the steps, lost in her own mind, completely overlooking the quidditch team that appeared behind her.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up to see a mop of red hair, but quickly calmed down when she realized it was the other twin, “Hey George,” She muttered sympathetically.

“Hey [y/n],” He smiled weakly, obviously torn down by the loss.

“Sorry for the loss. We’re proud of you guys either way,” She reassured him, reaching over and squeezing him in a side hug.

He leaned into her and smiled softly, “Thank you. I appreciate the consolation. But, uh, I think Fred needs it more,” he nodded his head backwards towards the back of the group, Fred hanging his head low with his brows furrowed painfully close.

[y/n] was taken aback, but swallowed her pride nonetheless and nodded understandingly, excusing herself as she carefully pushed through the crowd, until she ended up at the back.

“Hey,” she whispered, clutching her hands in front of her.

Fred looked up, his face wet with tears, quickly wiping them off with the back of his hand as he realized who he was talking to, “[y/n]? I thought you already went in?”

“Nope, got caught up in the surge,” she chuckled.

“Oh,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” she chewed on her bottom lip, concluding on her choice of words, “can we talk?”

Fred wanted nothing more than to say no and run away, his heart wrenching at the inevitable conversation they were going to have where she turned him down gently in that smooth voice she always used when she wanted to be empathetic, but he knew it was unavoidable, “Sure.”

The two broke off from the crowd and settled in a small study room, a hall or two away from the boys changing room where he’d deposited his broom and helmet. They sat on one of the couches that was pushed against the wall, [y/n] with her knees facing Fred who’d rigidly sat facing forward.

“I’m sorry about the-,” [y/n] began, only to be cut off.

“I know you’re here to reject me and I’m sorry I if I ever made you uncomfortable with my advances, it was never my intention to make you feel bad, so you don’t have to say anything or pity me because it’s fine, I should have know from the beginning, and quite frankly-,” Fred began to ramble, all his feelings tumbling out at once, his filter failing him.

“Woah, woah, woah! Slow down darling, that wasn’t even where I was going to start,” she backtracked, reaching forward and taking his hand in hers, “I was going to say sorry for the game. I was going to build up to that, but, what do you mean I’m here to reject you?”

Fred finally looked up from his lap and over at her, his face starting to flame a bright red, “oh, I’m sorry.” His eyes started to well up and he exhaled deeply, trying to blink the tears back, but ultimately failing.

“Oh, come here darling,” she cooed, pulling him to her as he cried into her shoulder, his arms wrapping around her and holding her tightly to his chest.

They sat like that for a while, Fred dumping all his bottled up emotions into [y/n]’s shoulder while she rubbed gentle circles into his back. Her hand traced up and rubbed at the nape of his neck, fluffing up the curls that lay there. When it seemed like he’d finally gained some composure, she pulled back, sliding her hands up to cup his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry I ignored you for so long,” He whispered, grasping her wrists ever so softly as she thumbed away the lingering tears on his cheek.

“And I’m sorry I did too,” She muttered, frowning slightly, “I never thought your advances were uncomfortable. I relished them, actually,” she chuckled awkwardly, biting back her own tears now, “I returned the hoodie and said those shitty things because I didn’t know what to do when you looked at me like that. I thought “there was no way he likes me that much” and I convinced myself I was right.”

She dropped her hands and started rubbing furiously at her eyes, the pent up emotions finally shoving their way out. Fred pulled her close once more, pressing her head into his chest as she cried into his shirt, his hand caressing her hair reassuringly.

“I ignored you because I didn’t know what to do with myself,” Fred confessed as she calmed down, “I liked you so much that the thought of you not wanting anything more hurt more than anything. I couldn’t fathom how stupid I’d been, because I didn’t want to. And when you said those things it was like the final nail in the coffin, I realized I had to come to terms with your rejection.”

“You like me?” [y/n] muttered, looking up at him, somehow in awe.

“Have I not made that clear enough yet?” Fred chuckled in disbelief, shaking his head, “we’re hopeless. Absolutely and completely hopeless.”

She broke into laughter as he grabbed her and pulled her down onto the couch with him, a shrill giggle leaving her lips as she fell along with him, pressed to his chest.

“Evie was right, I am an idiot,” [y/n] sighed, pushing herself up so she was eye level with Fred.

“The most idiotic, idiot I know,” Fred concurred, giggling when she gave him an offended look, “Okay maybe not the most idiotic.”

“You’re impossible,” she huffed, glancing away from him.

“And you’re infuriating,” Fred muttered, grabbing her chin gently and turning her to face him.

She watched in silence as he thumbed over her lips, still wet from the tears that had fallen down her face moments ago.

“Can I kiss you?”

“I though you’d never ask,” she breathed a sigh of relief, leaning down and connecting their lips.

It was salty and slow, both of them moving in tandem to bandage one another’s bruised hearts. She caressed the sides of his face lovingly, curling her fingers in his mess of fiery red hair while he pressed her as close as he could, flattening his hands against the curve of her back.

They pulled apart for a moment, both smiling softly, reeling in the moment.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to do that,” Fred confessed, breathing a sigh of satisfaction.

“Guess that makes two of us,” [y/n] grinned.

“Can I kiss you again?” Fred quipped, excitement getting the best of him.

“You don’t even have to ask,” [y/n] replied, pressing her lips to his once more.

#harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #gryffindor!reader #fred weasley x [y/n]#[y/n]#hogwarts #quidditch #mar writes

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lovestrucked-again · 5 years ago

Text

Something You Should Know

Summary: Your boyfriend asks you to help teach one of his colleague’s a lesson and you agree reluctantly. He forget’s to mention one thing though, his colleague’s pretty hot.

Genre: smuT Pairing: boyfriend!Jaehyun x female Y/N x Johnny x (ft Yuta) Word count: 4.8k

Warning: SMUT, cheating? if you read to the end it’s like pSyCH. handjob, oral sex (Jaehyun/Yuta/Y/N), teasing, ass sex? mindblank forgot the term, double penetration, sex, nipple teasing, humiliation, dirty talk.

a/n: Hi, how has your day been? :) _____

“What was that about?” You ask, your eyes still on the TV as Jaehyun falls back against the couch after a long call.

“Just Johnny,” He sighs, ruffling a hand through his hair.

“How’s he doing?”

“Not bad, he just wanted to come round sometime soon to catch up with us.”

“That sounds nice.” You hum, agreeing with the idea.

The TV show continues, the tiny forms of pixel racing across the screen to produce one of your favourite movies you’d chosen to re-watch. It’s a lot harder to concentrate with Jaehyun beside you. His fingers restlessly tapping against your leg as his eyes are on trained on you instead.

Finally, you cave in to his stare, “What?”

He grins, reaching for the remote to pause the scene before talking, “Babe I have a favour to ask.”

“What is it?”

“Johnny’s been acting like a real jerk recently, thinking he can fuck anyone he wants including one of the managers at work.”

“So?”

“I was thinking,” he pauses, sitting cross legged on the couch and turning his body to face you, “Maybe it’d be fun to wind him up a little through the evening, like if you could openly flirt with him and leave him hanging then send him off.”

The idea runs through your mind. “What? Why me?”

“Because you’re hot.”

You can’t help but laugh, “To you maybe.”

"Are you kidding? Several of my mates say how lucky I am."

"Oh yeah, like who?" You question, suddenly very intrigued.

"I'm not telling you that," Jaehyun frowns in reply.

You laugh at his pouting form, his dimples furrowing further into his cheeks as he keeps his gaze level with yours. You relax a little into the couch, thinking about his suggestion. “Are you sure about it?”

“Yeah why not?” He crosses his arms, leaning back against the armrest, "It's only a bit of fun, I just want to put him in his place, you don't actually have to sleep with him."

Just for fun. Not actually doing anything physical.

“Yeah okay, I’ll help.”

*** When the night finally comes around, you struggle choosing out an outfit, but eventually decide on purposefully picking a rather shortish skirt with a low V line shirt, allowing your push up bra to show a nice cleavage.

While you’re choosing your accessories Jaehyun finishes up in the shower, your back towards him as he stares into your reflection through the bathroom mirror. "Fuck, you look gorgeous,” Jaehyun comments, leaning against the ensuite doorway, "I want to bend you over and take you now."

You clip on the pearl earring on your ear and turn around to face him. The visible bulge underneath his towel. "I can see that.” You laugh, giving him a side smirk as you stand up, pulling your skirt up a little.

You walk over to Jaehyun and pull his towel away so his standing naked. Your hand reaching to grab his cock and gliding your hand over it very slowly. Jaehyun lets out a low moan at the contact of your skin on his length. His voice getting louder as your hand works its way up and down his cock.

“Does that feel nice?” You purr.

“Ugh fuck Y/N,” he groans, “you look so fucking hot right now.”

“Isn’t that what how you want me for Johnny?” You tease

Seeing you in your short skirt, your low cut shirt and your breasts almost hanging out your bra, he second thinks the idea. Jaehyun trusted you to follow the plan but he was sure, certain, positive that there was no way Johnny would let you go tonight.

You drop onto your knees, still grasping tightly on his member, his cock now staring right in your face. You part your mouth open, and lightly lick the tip of his cock, tasting the familiar saltiness of his pre-cum.

Jaehyun remains still, completely lost in his ecstasy as he watches you suck on him, savouring every moment as you greedily slurp and suck his cock. His balls tighten as you play with them, your hand squeezing them gently as you continue to suck.

“Fuck that feels so good.”

The pressure builds inside his balls as your hand slips a little higher. His cum shooting straight into your mouth as you swallow it straight down. Jaehyun leans more against the wall to support himself as you suck on him, milking everything out and down your throat. You finally let him go as you feel his orgasm subside.

"Babe that was so good," he sighs, helping you up on your feet as you wipe away the droplets of cum sliding down your lip.

"That was a teaser, maybe if you’re a good boy tonight I’ll let you have some fun before bed.” You tell him, giving him a little wink as you go back to your dresser to fix your makeup.

"I can't fucking wait for that," Jaehyun groans staring at your backside.

“Go get dressed Jae.” You laugh, watching him daydream through the reflection.

***

You leave Jaehyun to get ready and make your way downstairs, preparing everything for their game night. The beer, spirits and snacks are all stocked up in your fridge just next to the dining room where they would be playing. At around 7:30, Jaehyun finally joins you, making sure everything’s set.

Doyoung’s the first to turn up, followed by Taeyong, Yuta and Taeil. You know all the guys so naturally, you give each of them a hug as they enter, each in turn letting them eye you up in surprise at your outfit; all of them giving you a wink, aware of the real purpose for tonight.

“How are you feeling?” Yuta asks, trailing behind as you lead him and the others to the setup game zone.

“Not too bad.”

The doorbell rings and you excuse yourself, letting Yuta join the others as you skip down the hall to answer it, ready to put the plan into action. Except what Jaehyun had failed to mention to you earlier, was what Johnny actually looked like. You had met his other colleagues, the group of them having worked together for many years. But Johnny, well, Johnny is something else.

You cling onto the door for support, feeling your knees weaken when you see him. Johnny was tall, well built, brown hair and had looks to die for. He smiles as you stare.

“You must be Y/N,”

"Uh yes," you stammer out.

"I'm Johnny," he says offering you his hand.

"Of course, come in," you reply shaking his hand, which feels a bit odd considering all the other's had got a peck on the cheek.

Johnny follows you down the hall and into the dining room. You take a quick detour and run into the kitchen to get him a beer. Jaehyun quickly appears by your side.

"Fuck, you could have told me he was so hot," you blurt out. Jaehyun gives a little smirk, amused at your flustered reaction to his colleague.

"Sorry, didn't think it mattered. Either way, he's a ladies’ man and he knows it, so we want you to put him in his place. Oh and he's already mentioned how lucky I am. Get to work and show him he can't have everything he wants.”

You take a deep breath, turning your nerves into a forced smile as you take on the role. As the night goes on, you can tell that Johnny behaves with an air of arrogance and you can hear him talking about his conquests at work and how he’s now planning his next move on one of the directors who was in her fifties.

"If I can get in her pants, I'll be right up the ladder," you hear him say.

You hide the laugh that's about to escape your lips, swallowing a gulp of the soft drink in your hand. Yep Jaehyun was right. This guy really does think a lot of himself, good looking or not. You continue to supply the boys with drinks and snacks, taking every opportunity to show a bit of yourself as you lean over the table, reaching unnecessarily far for no reason. At one point you turn to go and feel a smack on your backside. You let out a little yelp and turn around, unsurprisingly discovering its Johnny.

"Proper beauty you've got here Jaehyun, no wonder you look tired all the time," you hear him say, followed by a deep chuckle.

“I’m not an object asshole.” You mutter to yourself, storming away to cover your irritation from being seen.

You’re in the kitchen when you hear Johnny asking Jaehyun where the toilet is. He guides Johnny through the kitchen, passing you briefly to the downstairs bathroom which is rarely used. You have your back to Johnny as he comes in and you jump, feeling him creep up behind you.

"So, just how did Jaehyun manage to find a sexy woman like you?" he whispers into your ear as he gets a little too close, letting his chest brush against you.

Time to up my game. You carefully undo a button on your blouse to reveal more of your bra and cleavage and turn around; with some difficulty as Johnny’s right behind you. His height makes it incredibly hard to stare him straight in the eyes and while you attempt to keep his gaze on your face, it’s pretty obvious that he’s looking somewhere else.

"Do you think I could have done better then?" you ask with a pout.

"Jaehyun’s good, but you seem way out of his league," he replies

"Would I be good enough for you?" you ask fluttering your eyelids, feeling a bit of a fool as you do so.

Johnny manages to hide the shock from your question, believing your show, “You’d be more than good enough.”

He leans forward and you place your palms on his chest, pushing him back to keep the little distance between yourselves.

"Forget it, there's only one man that's going to have this," you tell him, following his gaze to your chest, "and it certainly isn't you."

Johnny takes a step back, throwing his hands in the air sarcastically pretending to be offended. "What's all this about you little prick tease? You've been giving me the come on all night" he chuckles, bringing a hand through your hair.

You swat away his hand before buttoning back up on your blouse.

"You really think my boyfriend was going to invite you into his house and have you fuck his girlfriend?" you snarl at him.

"Shit, I'm sorry, but I've not done anything, you were the one flirting with me," he genuinely did look sorry and you feel a pang of guilt.

"Look, the guys are fed up of you bragging about your conquests and treating women like dirt, they just wanted to teach you a lesson that was all."

"It'll take more than that," he says, turning back to his arrogant self, "well if you do fancy a bit of a change sometime let me know." Then he was off to the toilet before going back to the game of poker.

You were furious at his attitude, your anger directed as much to Jaehyun as to Johnny, for getting yourself into this in the first place. Johnny was a good looking guy, but yes, definitely full of himself. Was it all just an act though, he had seemed hurt when you had a go at him. You decide you had enough of the little game and it was time for you to retire upstairs and return to the comfort of your bed. Jaehyun appears just as you’re about to leave the kitchen.

"Everything all right baby?" he asks.

"No, it is not all right, I'm going to bed. You can continue your game and get your own drinks." You tell him, arms folded, throwing the hand towel on the kitchen bench as you walk off.

Jaehyun looks puzzled, but he doesn't question it.

An hour or so later, Jaehyun appears in your shared bedroom. You’re already changed into a nightie, but left your little thong on; too lazy to switch it. You weren’t happy with Jaehyun for making you wind Johnny up, but at the same time it had got you aroused, so if he apologised it wouldn't all be wasted. However, when you see him stumble through the door, you realise even if he did apologise he was in no fit state for anything else. Clearly they had moved on to the whisky.

"Good game." you say flatly.

"Yeah, I think so." He slurs, “Look I'm sorry about earlier, you should have said it would make you uncomfortable." Jaehyun flops down onto the bed, bouncing the mattress and your bpdy, and you know for a fact, he would be staying there till morning.

He mumbles out a barely audible sentence, his face pressed into the pillow, "A few of the guys are staying over. Taeyong’s in the spare room and Johnny is downstairs, I think he's watching the football or something."

A minute later and Jaehyun’s knocked out, completely cold. You switch off the bedroom lights, pulling the bedsheets up to cover the two of you; tucking yourself in. But whatever Johnny’s watching, it begins to bother you, the TV unnecessarily very loud.

“What a pain.” You mutter, throwing on a dressing gown over your figure to check downstairs. You grab your phone on the bedside table, flicking the torch light on as you make your way out the room. As the screen light becomes brighter you notice it isnt football that's playing, but rather a late night TV chat channel with a couple of girls with rather large breasts on the show, talking about nothing in particular. You walk over to the TV not even bothering to give Johnny a glance before turning it off. When you turn around to face the sofa, your jaw almost drops; Johnny lays there fast asleep, pants half way down his legs and the most enormous semi erect cock in his hand. What the fuck?

Not only had he comes to his friend’s place and try something with his girl but the fact that he was now crashed out on your sofa watching porn on the TV and in the middle of a semi wank. Suddenly, a realisation hit you; now was your chance. You unlock your phone, clicking into the camera app to take a couple photos of Johnny lying asleep, cock in hand. This will wipe the arrogant grin off his face.

That was your original plan. But you end up standing there staring at his cock for a little longer, it’s far bigger than what you had seen and you were a little shocked to admit it. You manage to get so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t realise Johnny had woken up.

"Impressed?" he asks, his voice a little raspy with a knowing grin.

Your eyes flicker between his eyes, to his dick, to the wall behind him, unsure where your focus should be as you choke out your reply, "What? Oh... Oh shit..."

He laughs. "Hey don't worry, everyone whose seen it has the same reaction," he says pointing his cock at you.

"I'm going back to bed," you stutter, turning to go.

"Hey wait," Johnny calls after you in a loud whisper. You don't know what compulsion it is, but you stop and turn to face him; who’s now standing. You peek a glance down, noticing his cock has hardened a little but still isn’t fully erect. "Now, as you've been taking photos of it, perhaps you'd like to experience it in the flesh."

"I didn't ta..." You let the words drop as Johnny grins at you.

"Keep the pictures, I'm sure they were really for your own use anyway," he says with a smile. “Come on, I bet you've never experienced one this size have you? Jaehyun won't ever know, he's probably knocked out from the whisky."

You know it’s complete madness but you falter, you can’t keep your eyes off his member and the temptation to touch it, to let it fill you, was growing with every passing second. You were sure that in length it would definitely beat your boyfriends and thickness was almost the same size. You can’t even imagine how it can fit inside of you, but you have a feeling you’re about to find out. Johnny gently takes a hold of you and sits you down beside him on the couch.

"I really shouldn't be do..."

"Shh," Johnny whispers

He leans over and kisses you very softly on the lips. You don't back off, instead slightly open your lips and let Johnny take the lead. You were so turned on, although you weren’t sure if it was the arrogance of the handsome man doing it or just his huge dick standing to attention between his legs. You kiss for a couple of minutes, animal passion slowly taking over as you respond to him.

He lifts up your gown, revealing your erect nipples sticking up, the cold air rushing past. He smiles at you while you keep your eyes low, feeling the heat rise to your cheek. He removes your gown easily and throws it aside.

"Mind if I touch them?" he asks enjoying the sight of your nipples.

You shake your head slightly. Of course I don’t mind. You have no idea what had suddenly come over you but you were desperate for this man to take you. Johnny plants more soft kisses on your lip's and begins to caress your firm tits with his palm. You let out a moan of approval. He gently goes to work on each of your nipples, tweaking them between his fingers. You lean back, revealing all your nakedness except for the pink thong, which is now sporting a very damp patch.

"Fuck, you have the most gorgeous body. Can I kiss it all over?"

"Please," you whisper, "I would like that."

Starting at your neck Johnny works his way down your body, spending plenty of time sucking and nibbling at your breasts and nipples. You lay back as he moves down past your belly and towards the top of your thong. Johnny looks up at you and you nod.

His hands roam up to your hip, easily taking hold of the soft material and slips it down your legs leaving you fully naked. He looks in admiration at your pussy, and slightly parts your legs, going to work with his tongue. You bring your hands towards your breasts, fondling your tits in ecstasy as Johnny circles your hardened clit and laps at the juices that are dribbling from your entrance.

"Tastes good," Johnny murmurs as he continues to lick your cunt.

You groan again and take hold of Johnny’s head pushing him into you and arching your back so you can get as much of his tongue as possible. You’re so close to coming, but you fight it off desperately; you wanted his cock to push you over.

"Fuck me," you plead, letting go of his head.

Johnny doesn’t need asking twice. He brings a cushion under your head and spreads your legs as wide as possible. You’re still unsure whether that monster can fit inside your pussy, but you’re sure as hell wet enough and willing to give it a go. Johnny pushes his big purple helmet, smothered in pre cum, against your opening teasing you by slightly slipping it in and then pulling it back out.

"Fuck me, pleeeaaase," you beg.

"Sure thing," Johnny replies and in one go pushes the whole length of his cock straight into you without a warning.

"Agggh," You cry out.

It hurts momentarily, but within seconds the feeling of his cock completely filling you up is more than you have ever experienced before in your life. Johnny sets to work at a slower rhythm as your pussy, if it’s possible, gets even wetter. You can just about see his cock covered in your love juice each time he pulls it out before thrusting back in and making you gasp every time. You can’t believe you’re even doing this, the guy was a dick, but hell did he know how to take a woman to heaven and back.

The two of you continue fucking this way for a couple of minutes, wrapped up in each other's sweating bodies, moaning and panting before you tell him you want to get on top. He slips his cock fully out of you and it springs up. You grab hold of it and wank it, barely able to get your hand fully enclosed on it. It feels like gripping the thick end of a baseball bat.

"Impressed aren't you?" He asks breathlessly.

"Mmmmm," You purr in reply.

You let go of his cock and ask him to lie on the rug on the living room floor. Johnny gets on the floor and, with some difficulty, you squat down over his cock. Your pussy is already feeling severely damaged from the initial fucking he had given you, but in a very very good way. You take hold of his shaft and guide it into your pussy. You still can’t believe that it’s possible to fit the whole thing in, but you’d done it once and so without hesitation, you slide down his pole again until you can feel your own juices seeping out onto his pubic hair.

"Oh that is so fucking good," you groan.

"Ride it you little whore.” Johnny grabs hold of your breasts as they droop above him.

"Pull my nipples," you urge. Johnny does so and you gasp once more in ecstasy.

"Oh my god this is so fucking good,"

You lean forward and nestle your head into Johnny’s neck as he thrusts his hips in the air knocking against yours, his cock driving into your pussy.

As it turns out you’re going to feel Jaehyun’s cock a lot sooner than you thought. You lift your head up to arch yourself back and really work on Johnny’s cock but you freeze on the spot.

"Oh fuck..." you mutter.

Jaehyun’s standing in front of you, just in his boxer shorts, with his cock sticking out of them while he moves his hand up his length.

"Shit, I..." You go to get off Johnny, but he holds onto you and you notice Jaehyun wink at him. "Wait a fucking minute," You gasp, "was this a setup?"

"Afraid so," Jaehyun replies, "Johnny saw your picture in my wallet one time and said how gorgeous you were. I told him if he could beat me in a game of poker he could have you if you'd let him. I knew you'd get turned on flirting all night."

You struggle to process the words, Johnny not slowing down as he pounds into you, your body being bounced up and down as you stare at Jaehyun. Clearly Jaehyun had not been as drunk as you thought. You hadn't exactly been turned on, but now you definitely were. You gasp as you feel the cock buried inside you begin to twitch and Johnny brings his fingers between your squished bodies, squeezing gently at your clit.

“Ugh..” the moan escapes your lips, although it’s meant to be silent. Both the boys hear it, and it powers Johnny more as he stretches himself back into you.

“You look so fucking hot,” Jaehyun murmurs moving closer to your brushed up bodies, “Bend over and keep fucking him, there’s no reason why I should be sitting on the sidelines.”

Johnny manages to work at a faster pace, sliding his cock in and out of your pussy, fucking it thoroughly and wildly. Jaehyun moves out of your sight and behind you, most likely just watching your body being bounced up and down.

But suddenly, you feel something wet trickle down your ass and before you know it, there’s a finger probing at the entrance. He pushes a finger straight up, letting you cry out again. You’d had his cock in your ass before, but the fullness inside your pussy already was going to prevent anything else from entering you without causing a lot of pain.

“Ahhh fuck, go slow,” you beg

Jaehyun holds his cock inside you, letting you warm up to his length as Johnny continues to move in and out of your pussy. Slowly, he eases his cock into you as Johnny holds your waist, holding you still to allow them in. They both work to build a rhythm, feeling their cocks rub against each other through the thin lining of your walls; the friction getting them both even harder. The initial pain which had been present before Jaehyun had first forced himself inside you had faded and now, you were in heaven.

With the grunts and moans coming from the three of you, it was only a matter of time before Yuta fumbles down the stairs, initially half asleep. When he finally makes out the figures on the floor in the living room, he strips himself free, instantly feeling much more alive. “Can I join?”

You had forgotten he was still in the house but seeing him at the entrance of the doorway, his cock standing erect, you nod. What the fuck is one more cock in the equation going to do?

It’s a rather awkward position but Yuta manages to squat down and force his cock into your mouth, letting you suck roughly around him. It’s a difficult task to concentrate on the length in your mouth as your body continues to be pounded from both holes. You grasp onto Yuta’s cock with your hands, attempting to guide it to your mouth, but each time you manage to grab it, your body jerks and his pre-cum slobbers against your lips, painting around the edges.

Although Yuta is the last to join, he’s the first to explode. His first spurt of cum landing into your mouth with a struggle. He gets up quickly, wanking his cock as fast as he can, showering the rest over your face and hair with his creamy cum. He squeezes the tip, forcing every last drop of cum from his cock before he finally flops against the couch, watching the remaining scene unfold.

You manage to hold on for a few more minutes before you finally feel the need to find your release. The feeling of two cocks rubbing against each other inside you becoming too much.

“I’m cominnng,” you scream, feeling the gush of juice fill your insides and burst around Johnny’s cock.

The two boys hold still, pushing themselves up to your hilt as you feel the overwhelming rush of your orgasm hit you. It seems to go on forever as you cry in ecstasy. Your body shakes with sheer pleasure as you come down from your sexual high and that image seems to do it for the boys.

Jaehyun pushes himself into your ass as far as he can, grabbing onto your hips as his cum shoots deep into your passage. He continues to fuck you as he empties himself, making sure every last drop is left inside before he finally slips out.

Your focus goes back to the man beneath you, hands gripping at the sides of his chest as you claw at him, letting him guide you to reach your second high; Jaehyun’s presence being pushed back in your mind. Your body shudders and trembles as you’re left to hold your weight up before eventually, you give in, losing feeling in your arms as you fall onto Johnny’s chest and your pussy spasms with his twitching cock.

“Let me fill you up,” he groans, thrusting deeper inside to shoot a stream after stream flow of cum into your worn out pussy.

“Don’t stop until you’ve fucking ruined her,” Jaehyun calls out from behind; clearly getting into this.

With a few more hard thrusts, Johnny falls back against the floor in exhaustion; your body following with his. The room is filled with your heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself as you lay still, scared to take his cock out. When you finally feel him soften, you carefully ease yourself off it, leaving a trail of Johnny’s cum dripping from your pussy.

***

The night remains in your memory as an exhausting event. You’re not sure how you wake up in bed but the faint recollection of Johnny’s voice echoes inside your head as you remember Jaehyun’s warmth surrounding you; helping you off Johnny.

“Good game, let me know if you want a rematch.” Johnny chuckles, directing his words to your boyfriend.

Jaehyun laughs with him, the vibration of his chest causing your body to rock in his hold as you attempt to fight off the droopiness of your eyelids. With the very little energy you have left, you being thinking of next time. Your boyfriend never lost at poker, so you were certain, he must have deliberately lost the game and he would definitely, do it again.

#nct smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #jaehyun smut #johnny smut #nct jaehyun #nct johnny #nct yuta #nct127 #jaehyun x reader #johnny x reader #nct #kpop smut #smut #jung jaehyun #seo johnny #nct x reader

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mandoinevarro · 5 years ago

Text

NO REFUNDS

Words: 5.1k :))

Rating: E, baby

Warnings: Smut (surprise surprise), bad words :0, masturbation, a biiiit of praise kink, face fucking, cumplay? let me know on the comments, etc. etc.

a/n: Happy Star Wars day!! The first few lines of this are an attempt at dumb comedy, but humor me a little and you’ll get a reward (smut) along the yellow-brick road

Finally, the lanky kid behind the counter stops air drumming with two chicken bones gnawed dry and trails his dopey eyes from the gloved fist on the table, up a bracer, and along a flexed arm, until they settle on the Mandalorian helmet staring him down and waiting for an answer. The employee removes the music bandeau from around his ears and settles it down, its noise so loud Mando can hear it from where it lays. The kid scratches the whiskers of facial hair growing patchy on his cheeks and thoughtfully nibbles on one of the bones, trying to figure out what one does when a client shows up.

“Uh, what?”

“I need to speak to the owner,” the Mandalorian repeats slowly.

“Oh, uh.” Mouth gaping like a fish too stupid to know it should fear hooks, the kid calmly turns his attention to the four walls of the hardware store, searching for guidance in the fluorescent signs hanging around the room and dictating the store’s rules like they’re ancient scriptures:

NO CHILDREN

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

NO IMPS

NO REPUBLIC OFFICIALS

NO REFUNDS

NO APPOINTMENT, NO MEETING

“You, uh,” the kid continues, lingering on that last stanza and flicking open a dusty agenda that probably hasn’t been touched since the war ended, “you got an appointment, uh, sir?” He drags a greasy finger down the planner, squinting at nothing and pretending to read the page that Mando can clearly see is empty.

The bounty hunter sighs, holding on to the last reserves of patience that hang precariously on the cliff of his self-restraint, threatening to let go and leave him to his own anger. “No. But she’ll see me.” You better. You better fucking see him. “I was sold equipment here a few days ago, some of it faulty. I need to speak to her.”

The navigator. The fucking navigator. Of all the bunch of overpriced, black market scraps you’d somehow convinced the Mandalorian to buy from you last time, it just had to be the navigator. He still has his old blasters. Pumps are cheap. Even the deflector shields he could’ve done without for a couple of months. But the fucking navigator. The lack of droids on the Crest means that Mando relies solely on the navigator to set coordinates. Without it, he wouldn’t be able to find his way out of a system, let alone make hyperjumps. Even worse, the model is so old, its glitching isn’t recognized by the control panel, so he had to hover around the atmosphere of this damned planet for three days before figuring out what it was, throwing off his schedule and losing track of two bounties in the process. All because you sold him a damaged version of the one part he can’t do without.

But your gaping-mouthed kid worker seems too unused to visitors to really care about Mando’s request, too entertained nibbling on a bare bone and eyeing the costumer in front of him as a knowing smirk cracks his lips and he says, “I dig it.”

“You…you ‘dig it’? I don’t…”

“The whole, y’know.” He draws circles in the air with the bone, signaling the beskar armor while he wipes the sauce around his mouth with a sleeve. “The, uh, Mondolarian vibe you’ve got going on. Very retro, dude. I dig it.”

Mondo…? Bewilderment overshadows irritation for a second, and Mando focuses all his energy into searching the kid’s vacant eyes for a sign of intelligent life. “I…I am a Mandalorian.”

Fucking stars above, it’s never easy with you. If not your endless teasing, it’s the exorbitant prices, your unwillingness to compromise, or your scurrying around so he’s forced to play cat and mouse with you. Your latest impossible challenge for him to tackle is, apparently, getting a straight answer from the obtuse employee you must have handpicked from a catalogue of idiots to torture Mando. Maker, he’s surprised your store hasn’t gone bankrupt yet. He can’t imagine anyone else in the galaxy putting up with your whims. And he only does it because…well, because…

After dedicating a couple of seconds to crafting the perfect response for what appears to be his very first client, the kid muses, “Well, shit, what do I know.” He flashes a toothy smile as he rereads the dogmas on the walls. “Says nothing about Mondolarians here, but, uh—”

“—Look,” Mando bargains with your gatekeeper, trying to level the exasperation escaping the vocoder, “I only have one faulty part. Let me talk to the owner, and—”

“—Shit. I bet it was the microvalves.” Your staff of one hangs his tuff of hair in shame, swaying it limply from side to side, before staring straight at the visor apologetically. “My bad, dude, I’ve been trying to get them right, but I always fuck them up. It’s hard, y’know? Red with red, white with white. Why not red with white? Or—”

“—No. What? No. Listen to me. You sold me a busted—”

“—I sold you?” the kid scoffs, his eyes suddenly snapping wide and offended, ignoring Mando’s clenching fists, which usually make normal people cower. “Excuse me, mister Mondolarian sir, but I don’t, uh, don’t recall selling you shit, in fact—”

“—Not—not you personally, the store, look, just—”

“—in fact, I’ve never even met a Mondolarian before and you’ve, uh, no right—no right— to judge my microvalves that I worked hard on—”

“Let him in.” Your voice carries its usual amusement as it cuts between the Mandalorian and the kid, breaking off the bickering from both ends and drawing their attention to the melody’s source. You lean on the doorframe leading to your workshop, holding a pair of pliers in one hand and a wrench in the other. Grease is smeared on your face, where teeth bite down on a playful smirk and the twinkle in your eyes speaks of terrible intentions—like always. You tilt your head back to the room behind you. “C’mon, Mando. Let my receptionist work.”

With a sigh, the hunter moves towards the separate room, not before glancing back at the receptionist, who throws him one last disapproving look and wraps the bandeau that never stopped blasting music around his ears.

“Why do you keep him here?” the Mandalorian grunts as you push yourself off the doorframe to move inside your studio.

You shrug. “It’s him or droids.”

Mando trails after you inside the cramped workshop, filled to the brim with piles and piles of sensors and motors and all the other scraps from dubious origins you collect, fix, and resell. He closes the door behind him and pushes a large tube hanging from the roof to the side to walk closer to you.

Facing him, you plummet on your wheeled chair with a sigh, your arms dangling off the armrests, still holding the wrench and the pliers, like you’re the monarch of your little kingdom of junk granting him an audience.

There, Mando finally gets a good look at you, and—much to his annoyance—you’re as lovely as always. Glistening and greasy, you’re still beautiful with oil stains on your skin and fat droplets of sweat trailing your temple. You beam at him from your squeaky throne with that faint grin that attracts nothing but trouble. Maker, no wonder you always manage to talk circles around him. But not this time. This time he won’t fall for your little games. He won’t, he won’t, he won’t. Tonight he’s walking out of here with all of his money, no matter how much you bat your pretty eyelashes at him.

The Mandalorian squares his stance and straightens his back in a futile attempt to intimidate you, strutting ahead firmly and pointing an accusing finger at your face.

“You sold me a—”

“—a busted navigator.” You roll your eyes and push yourself to your legs abruptly before the hunter can get any closer. He stops dead on his tracks. You wave the wrench and the pliers in the air like the conductor of an orchestra. “I sold you a busted navigator.” The vowels are dragged out with an exaggerated tune to make fun of him. “Yeah, I heard you the first four thousand times, Mando.”

Without looking, you drop the pliers to the side. They land dead center on an open storage box. Perfectly. Almost rehearsed. Something clicks. The Mandalorian suddenly finds the missing piece of a puzzle he didn’t know needed solving, and he feels his shoulders deflate and release some of the anger that drove him to your store in the first place.

You peacock closer to him, one foot in front of the other and swaying your hips as you look down to the wrench in your hand. “But, you should know by now,” you murmur once you find yourself only inches away from the beskar, your voice morphing its earlier mock exasperation into the tone you only use whenever you two aren’t talking business. You look up at him, failing miserably at masking the mischief in your eyes. “I don’t do refunds.” You lift the wrench and grin as it taps the beskar breastplate lightly with a tink.

And before you can blink, Mando’s hand flies to your wrist to clutch it roughly, squeezing without hurting you, but with enough strength to force your fist open. Just like he knows you like it. The wrench falls to the floor with a bang that makes you jump. It’s Mando’s turn to smile when he pulls you by the wrist to press you closer against him. The cocky glint in your eyes dulls into confusion.

“I never said it was the navigator,” he informs you lowly.

You tense under his grasp and shift your jaw. “You knew I’d come back,” he continues, encouraged by your grimace. Staring at your feet, you half-heartedly try to wriggle away from his grasp, but he grabs your other wrist instead and holds you flush against the cold beskar. “Okay. I’m back. Now give me my money.”

But his satisfaction is short-lived, because if there’s anyone in the universe who knows no shame, that’s you. So you simply bite your lower lip and move your head from side to side to shake hair and embarrassment off your face. When you look up at the visor again it’s with that brazen insolence that secretly gets the Mandalorian going like nothing else in the galaxy.

“A girl gets lonely in here,” you purr. Your wrists relax, and make no attempt to pull away. “Can you blame me for wanting you back a little earlier?” Your plush lips curl into the perverse smile of someone who’s holding all the cards, making heat rush involuntarily to his crotch. And it drives him fucking insane. He could have you tied, shackled, or bent over, and you would still sneer at him like you had him wrapped around your finger.

At his silence, you wedge a leg tightly between his thighs and massage it against the bulge between. Your gasp in fake surprise when his length hardens at the first hint of a brush, too unused to any sort of physical contact to remain neutral to your bold caresses. He bites down hard on his lip to suppress a moan. He won’t give you the satisfaction.

Mando’s learnt, though, that his restraint only feeds your audacity. Only makes you taunt him more. His lack of response spurs you on, and you crane your neck forward to lick a slow line along the beskar of the chest. You blink at him playfully as you go, stuffing your tongue back into your mouth once you reach the top edge of the breastplate.

You must find it funny. How his ribs expand and contract in anticipation. How he tends to roll and unroll his fists in an attempt to suppress the instinct to throw you on top of the table so crowded by clutter that he can barely see the surface beneath and fuck the smirks off your face. How he always gives in. How he stiffens both scandalized and impossibly aroused every time you introduce him to some newer, filthier act. You must think it’s so fucking funny.

And as much as the bounty hunter wants to shove you back against your crumbling wheeled chair, he knows you’ll only enjoy it more. So he simply lets go of your wrists and steps back.

“I’m only here for my money,” he lies.

The vicious grin grows wider. “Oh, so you’re making me work for it tonight.” You step back and lean against a table with your arms crossed over your chest, purposefully pushing your tits against the cleavage. Mando shifts in his place. Licking your lips until they glisten, you give him a once-over. You study him inch by inch, and an uncomfortable rope knots in his stomach when he realizes that this is how his bounties must feel when he watches them wordlessly.

Your eyes settle on his visor, and a decision seems to cross them as you walk over to sit on your creaking chair. “Or maybe you just want to hear me beg.” You part your legs wide and clutch the armrest with one hand while the other disappears under the waist of your pants. The contour of your hand shifts up and down slowly inside the crotch of your trousers, and your lips crook into a full O as they release a deep, foul moan. “Is that it?” Your eyes are glossy and malignant, trained on his visor. “You want me to beg for your cock?”

His leather gloves ball into fists, trying to coax blood into his head and away from his…well, his other head.

Yet you hold him in place with that sinful stare and the lewd whimpers that you know get him off, and yes, fuck yes, he wants to hear you beg and sob for him all night as much as he wants to clog your throat with his shaft and make you swallow your teasing.

But he can’t let you win. You can’t scam five thousand credits out of him and expect him to throw himself into your arms no questions asked. He wants to put an end to your little tyrannical rule on his cock. And he wants his fucking money back.

So the powerful Mandalorian watches helplessly as your hand quickens under your clothing and you throw your head back in ecstasy. That fucking smirk doesn’t leave you, though. Even less so when your palm picks up some speed and you hear his breath hitch involuntarily at the visual, loud enough to override the vocoder.

“C-come on, Mando, don’t—” Your hand sinks deeper into your pants and you hum at the adjustment. “Don’t you wanna teach me what—what proper cos-costumer service looks like? Huh?”

His cock jumps in his pants when you say his name in a wanton gasp, and Mando can see you’re sweating and moving your hips faster against your palm. He’s so hard it hurts.

Your smile falters and you frown impatiently as the pent-up tension threatens to snap in your body.

“Don’t cum,” Mando blurts before he can stop himself.

“Or what?”

“Or I won’t give you what you want.”

Your movements halt on command, and the hunter almost envies the control you have over your own body to be able to backtrack on the very edge of your release. You hold your hands up in triumphant surrender as you watch the Mandalorian approach and stop just a breath away from your body. He stands tall before you, crowding you with his size and turning down the volume on the nagging voice that reminds him that he’s letting you win.

Eyes on the prize ahead of you, you lick your lips and snake a hand beneath your sit. You pull a lever and the chair plummets a few inches until your mouth is directly in front of the rigid tent growing in his pants. Expert fingers undo his belt and lower his fly, but, stars, nothing is fast enough when Mando already feels the veins of his cock growing thicker and thicker. Skipping all formalities, your hand sneaks inside, cups his balls, and pulls all of him outside. He groans when you grab his shaft and squeeze hard from base to tip, your bare palm catching awkwardly on his equally dry skin. Mando melts into the sensation all the same, but you seem displeased with your palm’s lack of fluidity.

“Fuck. Hold on.” A pair of fingers disappear into your mouth and down your throat as far as they’ll go. You choke on them dramatically and your eyes water slightly, but they shine when the two small intruders drag outside your mouth, pulling a thick string of elastic spit with them and dropping it on his shaft, pulsing with anticipation. You lean forward and look up through your lashes as you unroll your tongue slowly and more gooey saliva dangles from it. It’s too dense to spill onto its target, so you pluck the heavy ropes from your mouth and smear it manually on his cock, while a thread of it hangs on your chin.

“Fuck.” Your tiny clenched fist wakes up every nerve in his body as it drags up and down his shaft, obscene and perfectly lubricated. Mando’s hips buck into its grasp involuntarily, so suddenly that you flinch at the unexpected jolt. It’s a small comfort for him, to see that he can also surprise you. But then you’re giggling again, locking him in place by grabbing the buck of his belt with your free hand.

“Eager,” you remark. You lean forward and place a chaste kiss on the tip that digs into his spine. Maker, it was barely anything, but he’s so hard and your mouth is so close. “Aren’t Mandalorians,” you tease, “supposed to have self-restraint?”

Mando’s only answer is a low groan and a gloved hand that tangles on your hair and pushes you forward. You resist, though, instead wrapping a fist around his base and dragging your hot tongue up his underside, stopping just before the tip. A tortured whimper echoes around the helmet, and the Mandalorian is not sure if you could hear it because his muscles pull tighter, drawing his attention to his cock and your mouth and the fact that the latter is not wrapped around him for some reason. As if you could read his mind, you suddenly engulf him whole. Spit gathers on the edge of your lips as you suck on his length, swallowing around the tip and swirling your tongue around his girth.

“Fuck, you’re so—so fucking g-good at this.” You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft that make his knees buckle. He always forgets how good it feels with you. He forgets that you take him perfectly like all your holes were made for him to fuck. That you make his blood run hot with every swing of your tongue and every spasm of your cunt and every insolent remark that escapes your lovely mouth, now busy pleasuring him.

You settle on his head and suck on the bulb, hollowing your cheeks to let him feel the delicious inside of your mouth. Mando grabs handfuls of your hair with both hands, still trying to extinguish little whimpers before they leave his throat. And you can tell. He knows you can tell because determination clouds your eyes as you yank him closer by the belt. You drag your tongue in a circle around the ridge of the head, before dipping into the slit on the tip and finally earning a punched out groan and some beads of precum as a reward. Somehow, you moan and chuckle at the same time, opening your mouth as strings of spit fall to the floor.

“You’re hard, Mando,” you coo, pumping his length while you rub it on the side of your face, “throbbing and so, so hard. You should’ve come to me sooner, baby. You’re desperate.” You suck on the head again, and the Mandalorian’s grip on your hair turns to steel, pulling you into him and no longer asking. Moaning, you let him, taking him as far as you can and wrapping a fist where you can’t reach. Your other hand releases his belt and snakes down to your lap, fumbling with the waistband of your pants.

Somewhere in the swamp of sensations drowning his thoughts, an idea flashes in Mando’s head, and he holds on to it before you can suck it out of his tip. One glove lets go of your hair and quickly grans the hand lowering into your heat to resume touching yourself. His cock still in your mouth, you look up at him with furrowed eyebrows and a silent question.

“You can’t c-cum,” he explains, forcing words out of a throat that right now only wants to moan, “un-until you give me my—my refund.”

You groan and roll your eyes, taking your mouth off him with a pop. “Fuck no,” you breathe as you pump him faster and harder, almost making Mando lose his resolve. Almost. His hold on your wrist tightens. “It’s store policy.”

“Y-yeah?” You continue sliding your fist along his shaft, as you lean forward and lower your face to start lightly licking his balls. The room spins around Mando, and his grip on your hair pushes you into him until you suck on one ball gently. “Is—is it store p-policy to—ngh—to f-fuck your clients?”

You chuckle against his taint. Your head straightens to set your attention back on his tip, where he’s leaking an almost embarrassing amount of precum. A thumb brushes over his slit, gathering the pearls and bringing them into your mouth to taste him. The way you rub your core slightly against the chair is sneaky enough, but the Mandalorian catches the movements and tugs your hand and hair tighter as a warning. Your shoulders slump. “I’ll give you half,” you offer.

Mando guides your hand lower and curls it around his swollen cock, silently begging for your attention. His hand wraps over yours as he squeezes your fist and drags it along his shaft at a pace of his liking that sets his insides ablaze. “Eighty.” The helmet falls back as he revels in the wet sounds of your hand sliding back and forth his cock and giving him a nice enough memory for when he inevitably goes back to the Crest and is forced to take care of his needs himself.

You let him guide you, cupping his balls with your other hand and swirling your tongue around his darkening tip. Mando’s chest trembles with a long moan at the toe-curling feeling of your warm spit and your clenched fist working so hard for him, until you drop him from your mouth and answer, “Seventy.”

“N-no, I—”

“—Seventy,” you repeat and twist your hand away from his grasp, leaving his seeping cock throbbing and abandoned, “or you don’t cum.”

Fuck, he was close. He was so fucking close, before you turned the tables. Like fucking always. A part of him cradles his already bruised pride, shaming him for—yet again—not being able to hold it together around you. But his cock tugs harder. More insistently. It pulls every fiber in his body and screams at him to give you whatever the fuck you want.

“Fine.” He nods his head once, before his better sense can convince him otherwise. “Seventy.”

A full, beautiful smile that almost makes Mando forget he’s getting scammed graces your plump lips. You waste no time shoving your hand inside your underwear again and moving your arm frantically as you give him a couple of throaty whines. You open your mouth as wide as it’ll go and blink up at him, inviting him to take you however he so pleases. He tangles his fingers on your hair and shoves you against him as you wrap your lips around his cock and muffle your mewls on it.

The Mandalorian starts fucking your face, getting his money’s worth as he moves you back and forth. Your eyes water and you gag with every shove, but you work earnestly for him, hollowing your cheeks and moving your tongue and pulling just about every trick on your toolbox to make Mando’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

And stars, even through your pants and his helmet, he can still smell your arousal. He hears the wet squelching of your fingers working your pussy fast and if he could only get a look. One look is all he needs to cum, he’s sure, one fucking look at your clenching cunt and he’s done.

“F-fuck, l-let me see,” he pants, “let—let me s-see you—see your p-pussy cum, just—fuck—just a mo-moment, please, j-just…”

Tears from all the gagging fall out of your pretty eyes as you open your mouth and stand up, taking your trembling hand outside to fumble with your trousers. Your thumbs are hooked under their waistband and push down slightly before you suddenly stop and stare at the Mandalorian gulping all the oxygen he can get and waiting for you. “Sixty,” you say carefully.

Too intoxicated with you and too focused on the blood beating hard on his cock, Mando couldn’t care less. He doesn’t give a shit about percentages or money or parts or whatever half-forgotten excuse he had to come here tonight. All that matters and all that’s real is whatever he needs to climax, and if it means letting you win, so be it. “S-sixty. Yes. Whatever. Just—just take your fucking pants off.”

One swift movement and your pants and underwear pool around your ankles. Yanking hard on the hem, you manage to pull the right leg off your boot. You don’t bother with the other one, letting it hang on your left leg as you climb back on the chair, spreading your legs and hooking one thigh over the armrest to offer him the best view possible.

Mando’s cock threatens to spill at the sight. You’re fucking soaked. Your folds are blushed and slick and swollen with all the blood accumulated on your cunt. Three fingers rub your aching clit and everything around it with messy strokes, as you stare at the bounty hunter with raw lust and moan for him loud and clear, and this. This is worth the fucking navigator.

As soon as his shaft ghost over your face you lean into it and reach for him with your mouth. Mando takes your head between his hands and resumes his previous brutal pace, his eyesight now directed at the way your cunt spasms and seeps more juices with every circle you press against your lips. And, fuck, you’re taking him like you’re hungry for his cock. Pushing harder and further and faster despite the gagging, you’re making Mando see blotches cloud his vision and feel how his muscles turn into hot, thick magma. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he can’t hold it in anymore. His balls start pulling up as a warning and you’re sucking harder and mewling around him.

“I—I…I’m gonna—I—”

Mando can’t find enough words to put together for the life of him, but you nod and manage a chocked “Mhmm” and bob your head to the pace of your quickening fingers and stars oh fuck—

The wave of his climax hits him hard on his back and makes him curl around you. He braces himself against the top of your chair and the change in position makes his cock slip outside of your mouth, but his vision goes completely black and all he can feel is the rush of pleasure crushing his bones into dust. Maybe your name is falling from his lips, but he can’t be sure. The never-ending spurts of cum falling somewhere hoard most of his attention, and he focuses on that thick and heavy release, so rare for him that he puts his mind into savoring every second.

It’s not until the echoes around his ears dissipate that the Mandalorian hears you’re still whimpering. Hunched over you, he opens his eyes just in time to see you gather some of the seed that he spilled on your neck and bring it down to smear it over your bundle of nerves, rubbing it one, two, three, four times, before you’re sobbing long and loud. Your hole tightens around nothing, your forehead resting on his cuisse, and Mando thinks he could get hard again just from the image.

You both stay like that for a while, curled into each other and panting in turns, until Mando gathers all the energy left in his system to pull himself upright and shove his softening shaft back into his pants. It’s only then that he sees just how much of a mess he made: Cum landed everywhere. It hangs thick all over your face, on your neck, on your hair, on your clothes. He blushes darkly and he’s about to open his mouth to apologize, but you sense it. Somehow. You wink and brush off his shame with a smile and a wave of your hand, standing up to get dressed. But Mando’s quicker. He kneels in front of you and gently raises your underwear until it hugs your hips, wishing for a fleeting second he could press a kiss on the supple flesh there. You grab his pauldron for balance to sneak your foot into the pantleg that Mando holds open for you.

For once, it’s he who breaks the silence. “I…I do want my sixty percent, you know.”

“Of course.” You smile sweetly at him, reaching back to your work table to grab a clean rag, rubbing it against your face and neck. “I’ll even throw in some free microvalves for good measure.”

—

Taglist of two so you can keep each other company :) : @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon

#the mandolarian #the mandalorian x you #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x ofc #the mandalorian smut #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mando smut #star wars smut #star wars day #his fucking microvalves that he worked hard on

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