#the red note at the bottom appears to be an author’s note

[kvothes]

pornography by richard siken, in the diagram

[sturnioz]

‘THE BEST MAN’ — CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

pairing. christopher sturniolo x fem!reader genre. fluff, smut

word count. 7.1k

❝this is a wedding! i'm trying to be classy today!❞

content warnings. plot with smut, explicit content, sex with a stranger(?), oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, bathroom sex, riding, dirty talk,

authors note. not sure if i wrote chris well :/ but first chris fic on the blog yay, i hope you enjoy

You remember the first day you met Jennie: her soft hair curled in waves down her back, the rosy red tint on the apples of her cheeks from the cold weather, and how her smile and eyes gleamed when she introduced her twelve-year-old self to you at the playground. She was dressed in a sage green sweatshirt and jeans, and even though it was a simple outfit choice, you couldn’t deny how gorgeous she looked in it.

You remember the first day you witnessed Jennie suffer through her first heartbreak; her hair thrown up messily with strands framing her face, her eyes were puffy and wet, and her chapped lips were curled into a frown. She had a sage green blanket wrapped around her form as she sat in her room, surrounded by endless amounts of tissues that were scattered from the door to her bed.

It’s crazy, you thought. Even at that moment, she still looked gorgeous.

You remember the first day Jennie had met ‘the one’: her hair tied back into a sleek ponytail, her eyes adorned with glittery makeup, and her lips full and glossy. She wore sage green jewellery that dangled from her ears and around her neck. Her cheeks were flushed a soft pink as she locked eyes with a man at the grocery store, and a shy grin formed on her lips as she kept her gaze on his, completely mesmerised by his appearance. Despite her nervousness, she still looked gorgeous.

Today will be another unforgettable day—her wedding day.

You’re captivated by her beauty: her hair is curled in waves down her back, just like the day you first met her, with strands framing her face. Her makeup is light and gentle, her eyes shining with excitement as she patiently waits for the makeup artist to apply the finishing touches. Her body is covered in the most beautiful sage green wedding dress you have ever seen.

“Are you going to cry?” Jennie’s voice teases you as she meets your eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and her bottom lip forms into a playful pout. “Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying.”

The makeup artist tuts, pointing her brush at you warningly. “No crying.”

You laugh and gently pat under your eyes, hoping not to feel any moisture. “I’m not going to cry. You look gorgeous, that’s all.”

“Thank you,” Jennie smiles softly in response to the compliment, expressing her appreciation. She also gives a quiet thanks to the makeup artist who had just finished touching up her face. Jennie leans forward to take a good look at herself in the mirror, pleased with the results. “My mother wasn’t too happy about me going for a coloured theme instead of the traditional white wedding, though.”

“It’s your wedding. You do whatever you want,” You reassure her, briefly glancing down at your silk, cream bridesmaid dress and smoothing your hands over the material. “Sage green has always been your colour, anyways. I would’ve been surprised if it wasn’t included in your wedding.”

Jennie beams in response, “Right! But on top of that, my dad wasn’t happy either. He wanted a traditional wedding in a church… He’s not exactly thrilled to be invited to his only child greenhouse wedding.”

“This wedding is for you and Justin, not your parents,” You say with a straight face, clearly not impressed with her parents' thoughts towards the special day. “If anyone needs to be happy and satisfied, it’s you two.”

“Well, I would be even happier if you brought a date—”

You interject, deadpanning, “Are you seriously bringing this up again?”

“It’s my wedding!” Jennie whines, turning around in her chair to face you with a pout. “How could you not bring a date? What happened to the guy you were speaking to on Tinder? I thought things were going well with him!”

You immediately scoff at the mention of him, shaking your head. “He was completely obsessed with talking about himself that I could barely get a word in, and he was constantly glued to his phone, looking at his ex-girlfriend’s social media posts. Hard pass.”

Jennie purses her lips in deep thought, absentmindedly playing with the end of her curls as she contemplates. You observe her, knowing that look all too well—the look of an idea brewing in her head or a plan already forming. 

You prepare yourself to immediately disagree with whatever she’s about to suggest. However, before anything spills out, the door to the room slides open, revealing Jennie’s mother, who gasps at the sight of her daughter.

Taking it as your cue to give them some privacy, you announce quietly that you’re going to step outside for some fresh air. You briefly greet Jennie’s mother, offering a gentle rub on her arm as you pass by, and allow the door to slide shut behind you. 

You take this as your cue to leave, wanting the two to be alone and experience a moment together. You mumble to Jennie that you’re going to step outside for some fresh air before giving a quick greeting to her mother, rubbing her arm gently as you slip past, allowing the door to slide shut behind you.

The exhale you breathe out is deep, and your heels click against the marble flooring of the building as you make your way outside and into the sun, the warm rays shining down, and you shield your eyes with your hand to block the bright beams. You gaze over at the greenhouse conservatory where guests are mingling outside or taking their seats inside. 

A smile forms on your face as you spot familiar faces, waving to a few old classmates Jennie had invited, and you begin to walk towards them, intending to give them a warm welcome. But as you take a step forward, your right foot twists beneath you, your heel becoming lodged in a crack in the concrete below. 

You smile when you see a few people you recognise, waving at a few old classmates that Jennie had invited and you go to walk towards them to give them all a proper welcome, until your right foot twists beneath you, your heel getting caught in the crack of the concrete below you.

A panicked ‘Holy shit!’ escapes from the side, and a hand reaches out, grabbing hold of your bicep to steady you and prevent any further damage. You wince at the slight twinge of pain in your ankle, but you’re relieved to find that nothing seems to be broken when you look down. You mutter curses under your breath for wearing heels that you’re not used to walking in. 

You turn your head to thank your rescuer, expecting to see them chuckling at your clumsiness, but you’re taken aback when you see a boy with messy, brunette hair staring at you with wide, startled light blue eyes and his mouth agape.

His attractive appearance catches your attention, and since he’s an unfamiliar face, you’re intrigued to know who he is and what connection he might have to the wedding. But before you can utter a word, he breaks the silence between you both.

“You literally almost died.”

Your brow raises in amusement, “That’s a little dramatic.”

“No, I’m dead serious. It was a Final Destination moment waiting to happen. Ankle snapped in half, face smashed to the ground, all mangled, blood everything… I swear, I had the visions, dude.”

You blink, taken aback by his vivid imagination. “You have an interesting way with words.”

The corner of his lips curls into a mischievous grin. “And you have an interesting way of walking.”

“Touché,” You respond, pursing your lips as you glance down at your heels with a soft hum. “I blame them. They’re difficult to walk in.”

He chuckles, his eyes lingering on your heels for a moment, “I mean, I’d be nice and offer to swap but, uh, I don’t think your shoes go with my outfit.”

You playfully raise an eyebrow at him, taking the opportunity to thoroughly check him out. His white dress shirt is neatly tucked into his black trousers, accentuating his slim waist. His black blazer is left unbuttoned, and the matching coloured tie lays clean and ironed against his chest.

You can’t help but grin, “I don’t know… I think you’d look pretty good in a pair of heels.”

He bursts into genuine laughter, a faint blush colouring his cheeks as he runs his fingers through his hair. He then extends his hand towards you, introducing himself as Chris. You smile and take his hand in yours, introducing yourself in return, and the sound of him softly repeating your name sends a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Chris goes on to explain that he’s one of Justin’s brothers and also one of the best men chosen, mentioning that he’s the youngest triplet. You share with him how you know Jennie and that you’re her only bridesmaid, filling him in on the little details. 

He listens intently as you explain your long-standing friendship with Jennie, smiling warmly at you and even adding his own comments about when he first met her, and how well she and Justin are matched, to which you instantly agree. 

The conversation between you both flows so smoothly that you’re almost shocked, unable to fully understand how you can feel so comfortable and compatible with someone you’ve just met—you more or less wish you had met someone like Chris on Tinder instead.

“I think the ceremony is about to start,” Chris announces, glancing at his phone to check the time and the messages flooding his screen. He pockets his phone and wets his lips, a grin spreading across his face. He extends his arm towards you, offering it to you. “Can I walk you inside? You know, just in case you trip over your heels again or something.”

Feeling a bit shy but unable to contain your own grin, you nod in agreement. You slide your arm through his, your hand resting against his bicep. “Just in case, of course.”

The ceremony unfolded before your eyes, and it became the most beautiful moment you’ve ever witnessed. 

Tears well up in your eyes as you watch Jennie make her way down the white carpeted aisle, arm in arm with her father, and a radiant smile gracing her lips. She looks absolutely stunning.

The second wave of emotion hits you as you witness the love and happiness between Jennie and Justin. Their whispered vows, the tender embrace, and the loving kiss they share leave you and many others in tears. The guests join in with boisterous claps and heartfelt cheers, celebrating their union.

And then the third, and thankfully final, wave of tears washes over you as the triplets take the stage for their best men’s speech. Chris, in his touching words, comments on the beauty of Jennie and the ceremony. Matt chimes in, expressing that in all the years of being Justin’s brother, he has never seen him this happy, thanking Jennie for the permanent smile on his face. Nick follows suit, expressing his eternal gratitude to her for bringing happiness to his brother’s life.

Third, and thankfully final, wave of waterworks happened when the triplets began their best-men speech, how Chris commented on how beautiful Jennie and the ceremony was, and how Matt was the one to claim that in the many years of being Justin’s brother, he has never seen him this happy and that the permanent smile on his face was all thanks to Jennie, to which Nick followed through and admitted how eternally grateful he would be for her giving his brother his happiness. 

You weren’t going to cry again, although the food served at dinner tasted delicious, and you resist the urge to kneel down and praise the chefs for their outstanding work. Instead, you keep your emotions at bay and thank them as they come to clear the plates from your table.

Tess, a shared friend of yours and Jennie’s, strikes up a conversation with you during dinner, reminiscing on past memories and current. Then her eyes get fixed on the happy couple mingling with Justin’s family, and she comments;

“You know, I always knew Jennie would be the first one from our class to get married. I just didn’t expect it to be with someone slightly older,” Tess smacks her red, painted lips together and takes a sip of her wine, nursing the glass in her hand. “She’s always had this aura about her, you know? Meeting the perfect guy young, falling in love, getting married in her twenties, living in a fancy home with a white picket fence, husband, kids—maybe even a dog or two. God, I wish I had my life planned out like that.” 

You raise an eyebrow and offer a gentle reminder, “Well, nothing is stopping you. How are things going with you and Ryan?”

Tess gives you a look, “Do you see a ring on my hand?”

“Not yet,” A chuckle leaves your lips, pushing Tess’s hand out of your face as she waves it in front of you. 

She laughs, retracting her hand back to tuck her hair behind her ears. “What about you? Have you been seeing anyone recently?”

“No,” You can’t help but sound a bit bitter as you respond, not in the mood to recount the string of disappointing Tinder dates and unsatisfying hookups that have left you feeling frustrated. “I’m going to live a miserable single life. Maybe I’ll get a dog to make me feel less lonely.”

“The last time we spoke, you were seeing Jennie’s cousin, right? Was his name Liam?” His name makes you grimace and Tess snorts, covering her mouth to conceal the rest of her amusement. “Was it that bad?”

“To be fair, he did warn me that us fucking in his apartment would be risky because of his roommate being there.”

Tess’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What do you mean? Does his roommate never leave the apartment?”

You let out a frustrated wail, frowning at the memory. “No! They share a fucking room. Their beds are literally pressed together, toe to toe!” Tess is unable to control her laughter now, almost spitting her wine across the table as she splutters, but you take no notice as you shiver at the memory. “They turned their perfectly capable extra bedroom into a makeshift gym… it was scary.”

“Please, your dates can’t be all that bad,” Tess says, and you almost break into the story of your much recent date that you had explained to Jennie prior, but your attention is drawn to a soft call of your name. You turn in your seat to see Chris standing behind you, wearing a boyish yet kind grin on his lips.

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to realise that he’s asking if the chairs beside you are free, and you nod dumbly, offering him a smile as you expect him to grab the vacant chair and take it wherever he needs to go. But to your surprise, Chris slides the chair out from beneath the table and sits beside you.

He begins to explain, “Justin and Jennie are talking with her family. Nick is taking pictures, and Matt’s with our parents. It was getting a little boring over there, so I hope you don’t mind me bothering you instead.”

“Not at all,” You smile warmly at him, “The speech was amazing, by the way.���

Tess chimes in without missing a beat, her tone teasing. “She cried,” She nods towards you, and you playfully nudge her with your shoulder. “But she’s right, though. You and your brothers did a great job with the speeches.” 

Chris grins in response, running his fingers through his hair to push the curls away from his face. You can’t help but admire the sight, a desire to reach out and run your own fingers through his locks briefly crossing your mind. But you keep your hands occupied with holding your wine glass, maintaining a respectful distance. 

Tess’s boyfriend, Ryan, soon joins the table, and he immediately strikes up a conversation with Chris. The two of them engage in a series of discussions and topics that leave Chris laughing loudly, unable to keep himself upright, his shoulder brushing against yours every so often, and you can’t help but feel flustered as his warmth radiates towards you.

You are so embarrassingly touch starved. 

As the conversation continues, Ryan suddenly excuses himself, mentioning that he’ll treat the entire table to drinks. Chris offers to accompany him, and he dips his head low in your direction to quietly ask about your drink preference, but Ryan’s hand clamps down on Chris’s shoulder, assuring him that he knows everyone’s favourite drinks. With a firm tug, Ryan pulls Chris towards the bar, leaving you momentarily disappointed and longing for more interactions with him.

Tess observes the duo walking towards the bar, wearing a mischievous smirk on her face. She then shifts her gaze to you and comments, “He’s cute. Like, really cute.”

You nod, a light laugh escaping your lips. “I know,” You admit, your voice filled with amusement. “I actually met him earlier. He saved me from tripping over these heels like an idiot.”

“Wow… so, you literally fell for him.”

“Funny,” You snort, finding her words amusing. Finishing the last sip of your wine, you place the empty glass on the table and wipe the corner of your lips with a napkin. Your attention shifts towards the bar, where Chris and Ryan are engrossed in conversation, both laughing. “Fuck,” You mutter softly. “He really is cute.” 

“Ask for his number,” Tess suggests, “Or bring him home with you later. Keep your bed warm.”

You playfully gasp in response, “This is a wedding! I’m trying to be classy today.”

“Oh, I’m far from classy,” Tess scoffs, sending a sultry look towards Ryan, who meets her eyes from across the room and winks at her. “I almost jumped Ryan outside when I saw him dressed in the suit.”

You burst into laughter at Tess’s comment, but before you can fully respond, Chris and Ryan return back to the table, carrying a tray of drinks. They distribute the beverages, and you patiently wait your turn, smiling at Chris as he takes his seat beside you, holding two glasses of red wine in his hand.

He hands one over to you, “You cool with red wine?”

You hum, taking the glass between your fingers with a smile. “I’m cool.”

Chris returns your smile, his grin widening as his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. “Cool.”

The drinks start to flow through your system, and soon you find yourself becoming increasingly tipsy and talkative. Engaging in lively conversations with the table, the topics range from various subjects to the details of the wedding itself. Jennie and Justin finally join in, accompanied by Nick and Matt.

Chris, too, seems to be in a similar state of tipsiness, becoming more talkative and touchy.

You don’t mind when you feel Chris unintentionally lean against you, his body pressing lightly to yours as he listens intently to Jennie she speaks. He hangs onto her every word, his laughter filling the air whenever Justin interjects with a joke or flirty comment, or when Matt and Nick chime in with their own commentary.

During this interaction, you can’t help but notice how animated Chris becomes when he speaks. His hands are in constant motion, emphasising his points, clapping them together, or even slamming them down on surfaces when something particularly funny is said.

You’re taken aback when Chris dramatically sighs in response to one of his brothers’ teasing and drops his hands, unintentionally resting them on your thigh. The warmth of his palm against your skin and the gentle tapping of his fingers send a rush of sensations through you. It’s a moment that catches your full attention, leaving you unsure of how to react.

Chris seems oblivious to what he’s done, perhaps too caught up in the conversation or the effects of the drinks. You contemplate whether to subtly let him know or allow the touch to continue, as you find yourself enjoying the comforting and slightly arousing sensation. It feels nice, and a part of you doesn’t want it to end.

You bite back any type of response or comment, and you hide your grin behind the rim of your wine glass, taking a sip while ignoring Tess’s lingering gaze and her teasing nudge against your side. Jennie also catches on quickly, wiggling her eyebrows in your direction before leaning into Justin’s ear to whisper something.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes when Justin gazes at you, likely picking up on the situation as well.

The attention shifts away from the two of you and back to the ongoing conversation, allowing you to exhale deeply, relieved that the focus has been diverted. 

However, Chris notices your sigh and leans in close, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he whispers in concern. “You good? Did you have too much to drink or something?”

You turn to face him with a smile, assuring him, “I’m okay.” His worry immediately fades as he returns your smile. 

Just as he’s about to say something else, a small movement causes his hand to shift on your lap. Chris’s head drops down, his eyes widening comically as he realises where his hand has been this entire time.

“Oh shit,” He slowly withdraws his hand, “Oh. Wow. Damn. I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” You interrupt, wanting to ease any embarrassment or discomfort he may be feeling. You gather your courage and place your hand on top of his, causing his hand to settle back onto your thigh. You notice his throat bob as he swallows, his eyebrow twitching as his gaze shifts between your hands and your eyes. Wanting to reassure him, you repeat, “It’s okay.”

“Yeah? You sure?” Chris asks, and despite wanting to make sure you were fully okay with the situation, he turns his hand beneath yours, palm to palm, his fingers twitching with the urge to intertwine.

But you take the initiative and lace your fingers together, holding his hand firmly in your grasp. Chris bites down on his cheek and glances away, unable to hide the goofy smile that spreads across his lips, and his grip tightens on your hand, his thumb gently grazing across your knuckles. he turns his hand around beneath yours, palm to palm, his fingers twitching against your own as he was desperate to lace them together, but it was you who took that initiative.

“Oh. I love this song!” Jennie exclaims loudly at the sound of a familiar song playing in the venue, drawing everyone's attention to the dance floor. She pulls Justin up with her and looks over at you. “You coming?”

You find yourself torn between wanting to dance and not wanting to let go of Chris’s hand just yet, and a sense of selfishness washes over you.“You go dance together. I’m going to finish up my drink.”

Jennie smirks and sends a sly wink your way before she and Justin make their way to the dance floor. Meanwhile, Ryan stands up with Tess on his arm and asks Chris if he’s coming too. Chris hesitates for a moment before declining, his hand subtly squeezing yours beneath the table, a small gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed.

Ryan shrugs and accepts Chris’s decision, along with Matt and Nick, as they all head towards the dance floor. Nick, in particular, cranes his head back towards you and Chris, giving his brother a cheesy thumbs up to which you almost snort at.

As you watch the guests on the dance floor, a feeling of warmth fills your heart. The happiness radiates from the people around you, especially Jennie and Justin, who are wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing whispered words and sweet kisses.

Lost in your observation, you fail to notice Chris trying to get your attention amidst the music. It’s only when he leans in close, his voice hushed, that you become aware of his attempt to talk to you. Struggling to hear him, you lean in ever closer, feeling a shiver run down your neck as his warm breath brushes against your skin. He asks if he can have your number.

For a quick moment, you’re stunned by his request, caught off guard by the sudden turn of events. However, you quickly regain your composure and nod your head in agreement, a smile forming on your lips. Chris wastes no time, swiftly retrieving his phone from his pocket with his free hand as the other remains intertwined with yours.

He hands you his phone, already unlocked and ready for you to put in your number. You can’t help but smile even wider as you type in your name and number, playfully adding a heart emoji to your contact information. Chris grins upon seeing it, and you notice in surprise that he doesn’t even attempt to remove the heart or replace it with a different emoji. He simply shuts off his phone and pockets it, leaving the heart intact.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you as you bask in each other’s company, listening to the music, watching others dance and mingle around you. You’re typically the first one on the dance floor, letting the rhythm and the music move you. But right now, you’re content sitting beside the cute boy with your hands locked together. 

Curiosity gets the best of you, and you decide to break the silence as you ask, “So, how come you didn’t want to dance?” You glance at him, taking a sip of your wine..

“I’m fine right here,” He replies, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Why didn’t you want to dance?”

You muster up the courage to be bold with your answer, “Because I didn’t want to let go of your hand.”

“Wow,” Chris’s laughter fills the air, and he unconsciously swipes his tongue across his bottom lip as he tries to conceal his obvious grin. “You’re bold,” He says. “You kind of make me feel nervous sometimes.”

Raising an eyebrow, you press,, “A good nervous or a bad nervous?”

Chris exhales deeply, a genuine smile finally breaking through as he meets your gaze, “A really good nervous,”

Feeling more confident in yourself, you lean in closer to Chris, pressing your side against his. He laughs and allows you to do as you please, his fingers squeezing around your own in response. The close proximity between you both makes him feel a little hot beneath the collar.

Lost in the moment and distracted by you, Chris forgets that he’s still holding his glass in his other hand. As your face draws closer, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip, he accidentally loosens his grip on the stem of the glass when your nose brushes against his. 

The drink spills over his lap, causing him to let out a surprised noise and jerk back in shock. He quickly releases your hand to grab the now half-empty glass, staring at the mess he’s created, a slight pink hue colouring his cheeks.

Chris is clearly embarrassed, sitting in stunned silence, not uttering a single word as he assesses the damage. Meanwhile, you gasp loudly, your hand flying to cover your mouth in shock.

Apologies spill out of you in rapid speed as you realise the consequences of your actions, blaming yourself for diverting Chris’s attention and causing the spill. You hastily grab a napkin from the table, tapping his lap in an attempt to dry his pants, all while continuing to whisper your sorrys. Despite the fact that his pants are black and won’t show a stain, you still feel responsible and guilty. 

Chris’s eyes widen as he watches you, body frozen and his mouth dry as he feels your touch pressing against him. He’s unable to move or speak, caught off guard when he feels you press against his cock. It’s only when you start to wipe that he finally reacts, snatching your wrist in his grasp and emitting a choked groan.

“I’m good,” He strains, his voice tight as he tries to regain his composure. You immediately pull back once you realise how you were touching him. Embarrassed, you remain silent, unable to meet his eyes as you look away, avoiding any further interaction despite the thought of making him hard just from some mere touching leaves an ache between your legs, and you press your thighs together as you clear your throat.

Desperate to change the topic or find an escape route from the embarrassment, you suggest getting Chris another drink, glancing at his half-empty glass and then at the bar. However, Chris interrupts you before you can finish your offer, coughing and shaking his head. 

“No, it’s good, you’re fine,” He insists, clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, pulling at his blazer to hide the bulge forming in his pants. “I’m, like, sorry… by the way.”

Quickly, you reassure him that he doesn’t need to apologise, taking the blame upon yourself for distracting him and causing the drink to spill.

“I wasn’t talking about that,” Chris cuts you off once again, making it clear that he’s referring to something else entirely. You swallow thickly, realising what he’s alluding to, and you shake your head, wanting to assure him that it’s okay. However, he continues, stumbling over his words. “I’m talking about me—okay, shit, look. It just happens, you know, and when you were touching me—”

You interrupt him this time, “It’s flattering, really,” you admit with a small chuckle to escape. “It’s fine, I promise. I’m sorry for touching you, though. I was only trying to help… and I understand that it's a totally normal reaction, so don’t worry. It’s cute.”

Chris stares at your face in silence for a moment before responding in a lighthearted tone. “Did you just call me getting hard cute?”

You grimace at your choice of words, “Pretend you didn’t hear that. I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Before you can start rambling and making excuses for your mistake, your voice trails off as you feel Chris’s hand slide back into yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, and you bite back a gasp as he gently guides your intertwined hands back to his lap, causally resting the back of your hand against the bulge in his pants. It makes your head spin.

You need him—no, you want him. 

The thoughts that run through your mind and the needy ache between your legs has you desperate to be touched, to be fucked, all by him.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” You announce, noticing the rejected look on Chris’s face as he loosens his hold on your hand. However, you quickly tighten your grip, not wanting to let go. “Do you want to come with me?”

Chris looks confused. “What? To the bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Do you, like, need help peeing or something?” Chris asks, unsure of your intentions.

“No, I don’t need to pee,” You can’t help but laugh, causing Chris to give you a puzzled look. Your attention is fully on him now, your eyes dark and tone sultry. “I just really want to go to the bathroom.”

“Oh…” Chris blinks, his eyebrows knitting together as he’s even more confused. But then, it all seems to dawn on him what you’re hinting towards, and his eyebrows raise slightly. “Oh.”

“So,” Your voice is laced with anticipation. “Do you want to come to the bathroom with me?”

Chris nods eagerly, his grip on your hand tightening. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

You pull Chris up from his seat as soon as he gives you the confirmation you’ve been waiting for and you navigate through the crowded dance floor, heading towards the bathroom area. 

Chris is hot on your heels, his hand still tightly clasped in yours, and almost tripping over his own shoes due to the speed you’re walking in, and him trying to keep up with you, ensuring not to stray too far from each other.

Unbeknownst to you, Justin and Jennie watch with amused smirks on their faces, exchanging celebratory fist bumps before sharing a sweet kiss of their own.

Finally reaching the bathroom area, Chris chuckles deeply as you yank him inside a vacant stall, closing and locking the door behind you. He takes in his surroundings first—the clean white marbled floor and walls painted with green vines.

“Wow,” Chris murmurs, seemingly impressed. “This bathroom is actually pretty neat—what are you doing?”

Your fingers are pulling at the buttons on his pants as you simply state, “I’m going to suck you off.”

“Yeah?” Chris hums, licking at his lips as he watches you drop to your knees, and his eyebrows pull together in concern when he notices your bridesmaid dress is wrinkling and losing its pristine condition. “What about your dress?”

“You’re worried about my dress? That’s cute,” You smile up at him. You free his cock from his trousers and boxers, and you wrap your fingers around the base which causes him to hiss through his teeth at the contact. “I don’t really care about my dress right now. All I care about is making you feel good.”

“Alright,” Chris slumps down on the closed lid of the toilet seat, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks down at you with hazy vision. “Go on. Do what you want.”

The moment he gives you the permission, you take him into your mouth, and a string of curse words leaves his lips, running his fingers through his hair as he stares down at you.

His cock feels hot and heavy on your tongue, and you take him down your throat, sucking him in and squeezing your fingers around the base that you struggle to fit all the way into your mouth. He’s big, bigger than you expected, and it drives you wild—the ache in between your legs becoming almost unbearable, but you want to play with him a little longer, to taste him more. 

With Chris watching you through lidded eyes, it fuels you to put on a show for him, and that’s exactly what you do. You pull back, close your lips around his tip, sucking and using your tongue around his sensitive head. He’s panting above you, a throaty moan leaving him when you take him deeper into your mouth, jerking him off with each twist of your fist. 

“You can touch me,” You remind him, a string of spit connecting from your lips to the tip of his cock when you move back to catch your breath. “Touch me, Chris.”

“Man, you’re insane,” Chris laughs deeply, and his hand comes down to rest on the back of your head. His fingers thread your through hair, gripping at the roots as he pushes you further down on his cock, and you gag a little when he hits the back of your throat so suddenly. But you breathe steadily through your nose, hollowing your cheeks around him, drool seeping past your lips. “Fucking filthy girl.”

You hum around his cock at his words, and you shuffle closer to kneel better between his open legs. The slight sting on your scalp from his tight grip on your hair urges you to do better, to give him everything you've got. The burn in the back of your throat is pleasurable and you moan, causing his hips to jerk forward at the vibration, and you take him in deeper. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Chris grunts, pushing your head down. “Fuck. Just like that—god.”

You pull off of him with a lewd pop, and you use your hand to jerk him off as your glossy lips form into a sweet smile. “You’re noisy, you know.”

“What do you expect?” Chris hums with a lighthearted laugh, and his hand comes down from the top of your head to caress your cheek, his thumb pulling at your bottom lip. “I got a pretty girl on her knees in front of me sucking my cock, the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Your heart swells in your chest as you repeat, “Pretty girl?”

“Yeah,” Chris nods, grinning down at you. “The prettiest, ma.”

The choked groan that leaves him when you let go of his cock almost makes you take him into your hands again, but you’re too needy for him now—desperate to be filled by him.

Usually, you would scold yourself for allowing such a bare minimum compliment to get you so hot and bothered, but you didn’t care, not when it sounded so fucking good coming from him.

Chris watches with wild eyes as you yank your underwear down your legs, discarding them to the side and bunching the hem of your dress up to your waist as you ease yourself down on his lap. One of his hands comes to rest at your hip, and the other grips your jaw, finally bringing you in for a first kiss.

The kiss is sweet at first—soft and delicate, and Chris even takes a moment to lean back to gaze at your face with a small grin on his face. The grip he has on your jaw tightens a little, causing your lips to pucker up and he hums, nose brushing against yours before he claims your lips again.

This time, it’s more frantic. You’re biting at his bottom lip, his tongue dips into your mouth, teeth clashing, and his hands move to fist the material of your dress, bunching it higher over your hips as your own hand dips between your body to line his cock at your entrance, and you sink down onto him.

Chris grunts into your mouth while you moan, the feeling of him filling you so deep making your toes curl. Your arms wind around his shoulders to keep yourself steady as you leisurely bounce on his lap, and Chris’s grip is tight on your hips as he thrusts up into you.

He’s kissing you breathless, and you’re too drunk on his lips and cock to pull away for air. You lace your fingers through his curls as you fuck youtself down on him, putting all of your energy in riding him and it’s Chris that breaks the kiss to curse loudly with a moan, panting as he stares at you with wide eyes and red, swollen lips.

“You feel good,” Chris grunts. You clamp around him, whining softly at his compliment. “Fuck, ma… you’re so fucking tight f’me.”

“You’re being noisy again.” You repeat from before in a teasing tone, even though you’re not particularly quiet yourself. You’re unable to keep your noises at a minimum as you moan loudly when he matches the rhythm of your hips.

Chris laughs, “Shut up.”

Admittedly, you like the way he sounds edging closer and closer to release, and you would like to relish in the sound a little more, but when you hear the bathroom door suddenly open, your eyes widen as your hand flies down from his hair to slap over his mouth to silence him. Chris stares up at you in alarm as someone walks into the stall beside yours.

You’re still lifting and dropping yourself back down on him, and he’s still fucking up into you to keep the pace despite not wanting to get caught. But you’re thankful that whoever is beside you has flushed the toilet the second you let out a wail when his cock hits a spot within you, and Chris is quick to silence you too, pressing his hand over your own mouth and staring into your eyes. 

You’re both panting heavily behind each other’s hands, and you can make out the sound of water running from the sink tap before it shuts off, then the bathroom door opens and creaks shut behind them, leaving you both alone once again.

Still, neither of you move your hand, still keeping each other silent despite the muffled noises you’re both making.

You feel yourself getting closer and closer to your orgasm, and you wonder if Chris feels the same. You get the answer when his eyes roll to the back of his head as he groans, his hand falling from your mouth to hold your waist and pull you down onto him.

As your hand moves from his mouth to touch his face, Chris finally speaks, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too,” You agree, exhaling deeply. “Cum. Cum inside me.”

The corner of Chris’s lips twitch upwards, “Yeah? You want that?” 

You nod eagerly, “Yes. Please. Fill me up.”

“Fuck, alright.” Chris grunts, lurching forwards to slot his lips over yours, and his tongue dips into your mouth, gliding with yours as he cums deep within. He keeps moving you against him to reach your own high, and you wail as your orgasm hits you, convulsing around his cock as you hump his lap.

You’re heavily heavily, desperate to catch your breath as you break away from his lips, and he leaves messy, wet kisses down the column of your neck. His hands loosen on your hips to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest and yours slide around his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair as your body trembles.

It’s silent between you both as you embrace each other, and Chris is still kissing your neck with his hands rubbing your back comfortingly, and you melt into his arms. You feel relaxed and content, even though you should be both cleaning yourself up and leaving before anyone else could walk in.

“Just so you know, I don’t do this,” Chris mumbles in the crevice of your neck. Your eyebrows knit together, and you arch back to look at his face, and he smiles at your confused expression. “I mean, like, meeting some stranger and hooking up with them. I don’t do that.”

“I don’t either,” You admit, chewing your bottom lip. “I usually go on at least one date before I do that.”

“Noted,” Chris grins sluggishly. “I’ll take you next time.”

His nonchalant tone makes your heart flutter, and you wonder if he knows what he has just said to you, and if he’s serious on potentially seeing you again. You want to question it, or at least have him repeat it, but you keep your lips pressed together when you notice Chris’s attention is brought to the décor of the stall like it was the first time he came in.

“This bathroom is really nice, though. I wonder if Matt and Nick know about this.”

© sturnioz

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗖𝗔𝗠

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N, the triplets and Justin are present at the Bruins game, and the Kiss Cam chooses Matt and Y/N to share a kiss.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon and @iammattswife

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"...I know! Did you see Pastrnak's? It was incredible what he did with the puck!" Y/N commented excitedly to Justin while pressing Matt's jacket tighter around her own body, watching the oldest Sturniolo, who nodded while lightly biting the nail on his ring finger.

"Yeah, Marchand was very agile in that-"

"Oh, it's starting!" Nick's excited shout cut through Justin's sentence, smiling as he still chewed on a piece of his own hot dog, momentarily pointing forward.

Y/N raised her eyes to the indicated point, seeing the pink heart taking up the edges of the big screen, along with some smaller hearts and "Kiss Cam" written in the bottom corner.

A look of amusement took over her expression, exchanging glances with Chris - who was sitting next to Nick -, excited to see the funny and romantic - or disastrous - kisses that would occur during the break of the game.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway and people moving their legs to make room caught her attention. The girl looked over Chris's shoulder, smiling when she saw Matt returning with a tray in his hands that looked heavy, full of things.

"Hi baby, I'm back." The boy sighed dramatically, sitting down, leaving her between himself and Justin, who fished his phone out of his hoodie, alternating his eyes between the device and the big screen.

"Babe, I just asked for fries." Y/N's eyes widened, noticing not only a big serving of french fries on the tray but also two cheeseburgers and two drinks, a Diet Coke - her favorite - and a root beer.

"You only had breakfast today. French fries won't take away your hunger." Matt countered, carefully opening the packaging of all the items so that Y/N could eat them without getting her hands or clothes dirty.

The girl rolled her eyes playfully, smiling and bending slightly to his side, softly sealing Matt's right cheek with her lips before picking up some fries, bringing them to her mouth. Her action was quickly interrupted by her boyfriend, who held her wrist gently.

"Wait, I bought you ketchup." He lifted the package of fries, showing the small closed container with the red sauce inside.

"Oh, thank God." The girl sighed in relief, waiting for Matt to open the lid so she could dip her fries before finally eating them, rolling her eyes in exaggerated pleasure.

Matt let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. His hatred for ketchup was the same size as Y/N's love for it.

Y/N quickly took the package of fries, turning to Justin and offering, smiling as she watched him fish out some, slowly eating them while observing the arena.

Matt's fingers worked on opening the can of Diet Coke, passing the transparent straw through the hole - knowing that his girlfriend didn't drink anything without one - before opening his own.

Chris and Nick's excited screams caught the attention of them, who quickly looked at the two with wide eyes, surprised by their sudden reactions.

"Matt, look!" Chris leaned over Nick, extending his right arm and slapping Matt's knee as he pointed at the screen with his left one.

Y/N followed the indicated place with her eyes, raising her eyebrows when she saw the Kiss Cam screen showing herself and Matt, Chris's arm appearing as well.

Justin let out a loud laugh, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his bent knees, keeping his eyes forward, not wanting to see his brother and sister-in-law making out right by his side.

Matt pressed his lips into a thin line before shrugging, quickly lifting the tray and passing it to Nick - who caught it instantly. The brunette turned to Y/N, seeing her already looking back at him, an awaiting look in her eyes.

His hands snaked up to her jaw, lightly pulling her closer, slamming their lips in an intense kiss, a surprised sound scaping Y/N's throat. She gave in quickly, closing her eyes and feeling like she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears as her cheeks burned, definitely taking on a reddish hue.

Y/N's hands flew to his hair, threading her fingers through the soft strands. Matt ran his warm tongue across her bottom lip, requesting entry, which was granted instantly, deepening the gesture. The girl sighed through her nose in pleasure, intertwining their tongues in a dance, feeling goosebumps rise through her skin.

The crowd was going crazy; excited screams were heard from all sides, some people jumping in their seats, others recording or taking pictures of the screen.

Nick and Chris pretended to be disgusted, wrinkling their noses or playfully closing their eyes with their hands, but matching smiles decorated their expressions. Justin smirked, keeping his eyes fixed on the big screen, shaking his head in amusement.

Y/N was sure their kiss was much longer than the time the camera focused on the two of them - probably already having found the next couple to record.

When the air was running out, Matt slowly pulled away, his eyes still closed as he tried to savor the taste of his girl still in his mouth. His lips were swollen and pink - probably just like hers - while his chest rose and fell with excitement and lack of air.

She sighed deeply when she saw him finally open his eyes, his long eyelashes caressing his cheeks and his blue orbs meeting hers. The girl bit her lower lip at the intense look Matt held, his dilated pupils visible.

"You guys are so disgusting." Nick's voice seemed to wake them from their trance.

Matt rolled his eyes, licking his lips quickly, wetting them. He straightened in his seat and raised his hands, silently asking Nick to give him the tray back.

Y/N cleared her throat, tucking the loose strands of hair behind her ear. She adjusted her posture, rolling her eyes when she heard Nick laughing at her shyness - as if she wasn't just kissing his brother like her life depended on it. Justin shook his head, exchanging looks of mock disgust with Chris.

"You're just jealous because if they had focused the camera on you, you would have had to scream that you don't have anyone to kiss." Matt shot back, instantly silencing them.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[huggingkoalas]

𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐭 | natasha romanoff

pairing — ‧₊˚ avenger!natasha romanoff x fem!avenger!reader

summary — ‧₊˚ riding a motorcycle should be similar to riding her face, right?

word count — ‧₊˚ 1.8k

warning(s) — ‧₊˚ smut, use of vibrators (using a literal motorcycle), mentions of ‘exhibitionist’/‘voyuerism’ kink, mentions/use of ‘mommy’ kink, pet names, teasing, cursing, established relationship, bottom!reader, top!natasha

authors note — ‧₊˚ am i going absolutely feral over nat's motorcycle scenes in age of ultron and black widow? yessir :P + this fic is inspired by this tiktok edit of nat too <3

“Will you teach me how to ride, Nat?” You asked, stopping your gentle scratches on her scalp.

Natasha, lying on the bed with her head on your lap, turned her attention from the movie playing on the television to you. Amused, she raised her eyebrows, her infamous smirk on her lips. “Are you talking about my face?”

You slapped her hard on the arm and shook your head in amusement. “I meant the motorcycle, you weirdo.” 

“Ouch, that hurts.” Natasha hissed with a pout on her face. 

Both you and Natasha knew she could handle physical pain since she was literally the Black Widow. Even if she didn’t have superpowers like Thor and the Hulk, she was still one of the most powerful women in the world. Fighting the desire to roll your eyes, you played along with her antics. You rubbed her arm, eyes twinkling in faux pity while mouthing ‘sorry’. 

“I read the mission reports everyone sent from the Ultron Offensive mission. I had no idea you knew how to ride a motorcycle.” You remarked, continuing your featherlight strokes along her hair. You wish you were there that day. If you witnessed Natasha riding a motorcycle, skillfully navigating through traffic and avoiding danger, you’d be drooling right away.

“I guess it just never came up. I wouldn’t mind teaching you, though. It would be hot if you rode something other than my face.” Natasha teased.

“Nat!” Your cheeks turned bright red from her comment. “I-I mean, you’ll have to teach me the basics first, though. I don’t think I’m ready to drive one yet.”

The thought of driving a fast vehicle sent shivers down your spine. Despite feeling scared, you wanted to impress your girlfriend. Maybe if you tried something dangerous, like learning how to ride a motorcycle, she wouldn’t keep calling you a scaredy cat.

“I can teach you the basics now.” She replied, removing her head from your lap and sitting up.

“N-Now? You sure?” You hesitated. “I mean, sure, yeah, okay.”

You didn’t think she’d teach you how to ride a motorcycle now, but you weren’t complaining. Natasha intertwined your fingers with yours, dragging you to the garage quickly. 

You could see the excitement in her eyes as she led you to the garage. The green in her eyes was brighter than usual, and you couldn’t help an endearing smile appearing on your face. Seeing this side of her made your heart melt. Sometimes, she reminded you of a puppy.

Your eyes adjusted to the amount of sunlight flittering through the ceiling-to-floor windows once you reached the garage. It was your first time here, and the spaciousness of the area amazed you. Numerous cars, including SUVs and Humvees, were lined neatly side-by-side. Your gaze immediately spotted the familiar black and red motorcycle you had read in her mission report.

“What’s its model again?” You asked, walking to the motorcycle and running your fingertips along the tank cover before resting your palm on the leather seat.

“It’s a Harley-Davidson LiveWire.” Natasha walked up behind you, resting her hands on your hips. “It’s brand new. The motorcycle from the mission got totalled, so Fury and Stark had to buy me another one.”

“Yeah, I know. I had to deal with financial reports afterwards. It’s... really expensive.” You turned your head to look up at her, leaning up to kiss the tip of her nose. “Only the best motorcycle for the best woman in the world.”

“Enough compliments or I’m bringing you to my room and showing you how much you’re the best woman all night.” Natasha husked, her teeth tugging at your earlobe. Her hot breath whispered in your ear, making you weak to your knees.

She released herself from behind you, her famous smirk on her face as she noticed your flustered state. “Alright, get on the motorcycle.” She said, her voice an octave lower than usual. You looked at Natasha, and she was looking at you with darkened eyes. 

You both knew what that tone meant. It was the tone she would use on you when you were writhing on her sheets, moaning her name over and over again as she brought you to multiple orgasms. Both of you knew what the tone did to you. You’d willingly get on your knees and do anything she asked if she used that sultry voice again.

Clearing your throat to brush your mind off the filthy thoughts your brain had come up with, you inquired. “Won’t it tip over if I get on it?”

Natasha lets out a short laugh as you shoot her a nervous look. There’s a mixture of amusement and something else entirely in her green eyes. You're not sure. She’s making you even more nervous than you already are.

“See that little stick on the side propping up the bike?” With a nod of your head, she points to the black pedal holding the vehicle up. “That’s a kickstand. The bike doesn’t magically defy gravity, and it certainly doesn’t fly.”

You wanted to wipe the smug grin off Natasha’s face. Normally you’d make a snarky remark now, but instead, you let her off with a shrug.

“I promise to catch you if, for some reason, the kickstand doesn’t do its job, detka (baby).” The use of the pet name relaxes you a bit, and you nod your head.

“Fine, I trust you. Is there... A specific way to get on it?” You asked.

“Just mount it, lyubov’ (love). It’s the same as riding on my face.” Natasha replied in a teasing tone. Your head snaps towards her, and your cheeks warm. Her arms are crossed, and her biceps are clearly visible as she wears a black sleeveless sweater. You know you won’t survive the rest of the lesson if she acts (and looks) like this.

You grab the handles and slowly swing one leg over the seat. Your feet barely touch the ground, and you’re tiptoeing while sitting on the vehicle. 

“I think the motorcycle is too tall for me.” You looked at her with a frown.

Natasha expertly climbs onto the bike behind you. “Shortie.” She taunts.

“Careful!” You exclaimed, holding onto the handlebars as the bike tilted left and right due to her movement.

You shift in your seat, getting used to the weird position. The motorcycle seemed larger between your thighs. Furthermore, there were a bunch of pedals, levers, and buttons. You were familiar with what the side mirrors do, but you were not sure what everything else does.

Your heart pounded in your ears. The seat slope caused Natasha's body to press up against you. You shudder slightly as you feel her breasts press up against your back. You tried to make yourself comfortable, but her breath against the back of your neck sent a small shiver down to your core. 

“You’re so tense, detka (baby). Do I make you nervous?” She rests her chin on your shoulder, her hands running down your arms to take your hand in hers while you hold the handlebar.

“You’re sleeping on the couch if you don’t shut up right now, Nat.” You replied, gritting your teeth. As much as you liked her relentless teasing, the heightened adrenaline and fear in your body spiked your anxiousness.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry, lyubov’ (love). Let’s start the lesson then.” Natasha said, turning her attention back to the task at hand. 

She turned the key in the ignition on. The rumbling of the motor startled you as the engine started to thrum softly beneath you.

“I’ll put it on neutral since you’re not driving.” She added.

You nodded your head. You had a license to drive a car, so you knew some driving language. But even though you had experience driving a car, you knew that riding a motorcycle was something completely different. You could feel your heart racing and your grip on the handlebars trembling slightly.

“The lever above the left handle is the clutch lever. The one on the right is the lever for the front brake.” Natasha continued, showing and explaining the parts and their functions.

You couldn't concentrate. The vibration of the engine below you and the slight vibration of the seat had your attention instead. You pursed your lips and nodded as you pretended to understand what she was teaching you.

Closing your eyes for a moment, your breath caught in your throat as Natasha’s lips touch the spot where your neck meets your shoulder. “Are you listening to me?” She murmured against your skin.

You pursed your lips and speak shakily. “Y-Yes.”

Natasha smirked as she watched your face, she could clearly see that your mind was somewhere else entirely, exactly where she wanted it to be. “I can make you feel even better...”

“This is the throttle handle that gasses the motor.“ She taps a finger on the right handle. She slowly turns the handle towards you, her wrist applying pressure, and the engine revs louder.

“Shit, Nat-” You gasp out loud, the vibrations beneath you getting stronger the more she turns the handle. You feel even more wetness gathering in your panties.

“Nat,” You whimpered with desperation. “Please, I..I-”

You arch your body against her and throw your head back against her shoulder, enjoying the vibrations from the seat. Natasha almost moans at the sight of you aching for her. She gently pulls your shirt off, throwing it behind her. The cold air sends goosebumps down your arm and her left hand rests on your thigh, squeezing and kneading your clothed thigh.

“Shh... Quiet. You don’t want someone to walk on us like this, do you?” She warns you.

Your lungs are struggling for air as you gasp. Shame and desire course through your veins at the thought of someone catching the both of you in this position. You bite your bottom lip, biting it hard you think it might bleed. 

“Want me to go faster?” She asks in a sultry voice. Without waiting for your response, she twists the handle down quickly, the seat pulsating quickly and louder.

Your torso jolts forward and you can’t stop the moan that leaves the back of your throat. Your panties and pants are sticking to you uncomfortably as the leather seat vibrates harshly against your folds. You’re rutting down onto the seat desperately, aching for release. 

“I-I’m close, Nat, don’t stop, please-” You somehow manage to plead through the haze.

You moan loudly as she revs the engine loudly once more, and you scream ‘mommy’ as you orgasm, stars blinding your eyes as your body shakes with bliss. Your arousal sticks to your thighs and pools onto the leather seat below you as you come down from your high.

Natasha switches off the ignition once you finish tumbling over the edge. The vibration and the sounds from the motorcycle quiet down, and all you can hear is your increased heartbeat and the silence of the garage. You feel your legs and body twitch slightly from the orgasm. 

You turned your head towards her, seeing a shit-eating grin on her face. “Wow, ‘Mommy’, huh? That’s a first.” She teased, licking her lips. “I’ll have so much fun cleaning the bike later.”

You groaned, hiding your face in her neck. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” 

[thevillainswhore]

New Tricks: Celestial Heavens

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 9.4k

Summary: Life couldn’t seem any better — your life long crush, and the football star of your fantasies is now your boyfriend, and your relationship is running smoothly. It’s a dream come true. But when Bucky admits he’s ready to take things to the next level, you’re anxious to make sure losing his virginity is an experience he won’t forget — for all the right reasons.

Which means, a first date is in order.

A night beneath the stars brings the two of you closer together, where emotions run high and confessions sit on the tips of tongues.

Warnings: College AU, Smut, kissing, grinding, dirty talk, praise, reassurance, fluff, fluff and more fluff, pet names, swearing, teasing, first dates, Bucky is a smooth little shit, cute astronomy puns.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine’s Day my loves 🥰 here is the highly requested part two for New Tricks 🥹 the support I have received for part one has been so overwhelming and I want to thank all of you who expressed your love 😭

Beta and divider graphic credits go to @rookthorne - I can’t thank you enough for spending hours of your time helping me bring this AU to life, you’re incredible — this one is for you ❤️

I hope this follow on lives up to your expectations and does our favourite college babies justice. Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Happy reading my lovelies 💜

New Tricks Masterlist 🌼🐾

New Tricks Playlist 🎵

‼️ Small disclaimer ‼️- while I have done some research, I in no way consider myself to be an astronomy expert. If any of the facts or information I have included are wrong, I apologise profusely.

Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, you hum a tune to yourself while waiting for the door to open. 

The impulse to knock again after only a moment of waiting is overwhelming and your impatience begins to wane. You grip the canvas strap of your tote bag which is full to the brim with notepads and books, when the door suddenly swings open to admit you.

“Hey–! Oh, it’s you.” Disappointment sours your tone upon seeing Steve in the doorway. You push past his broad frame and enter his apartment to look for the true reason you are there, paying no mind to the scoff that falls from his lips. 

 

“Yes, hello sis. So good to see you, too!” Steve stays by the door, unmoving and starts conversing with himself. “How am I? I’m great, thanks for asking—how about you? Come on in, we’ll have a drink.” 

You shake your head, huffing a laugh while you scold him playfully, “Oh hush, Stevie, don’t be so butthurt.” From down the hallway, you see a light casting shadows along the floor — the source coming from a slither of an open door. A flicker of red hair disappears around the door frame. “Huh,” you muse, a smirk dancing on your lips. “You should know by now I’m not here for you. Where is he?” 

Steve sighs. “He’s–”

“Buttercup!” Bucky’s shout from his bedroom interrupts Steve, and it snaps your focus towards the direction of his voice. “Baby!”

The heavy thud of his rapid footsteps echoes down the hallway towards the living room, where you currently stand waiting for him, and you can’t help but giggle with amusement at his excitement. 

He appears in a blur, skidding into the room with grace akin to a drunken swan — a pink blush dusts over his cheekbones and the boyish charm of his eager smile makes your stomach flutter. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down when he swallows, and he covertly attempts to catch his breath from the sudden burst of excitement. 

“–There,” Steve finishes, lamely. 

The bright, pretty smile on Bucky’s lips and how his eyes grow wide when he sees you makes you feel like you’re floating on cloud nine. “Hi, Buttercup,” he breathes, and the pure innocence of his greeting melts your heart.

You can’t help but copy his smile as you make your way towards him, where he positively vibrates in place. “Hi to you too, handsome.” The cotton of his shirt is soft under your palms, and you meet his lips with a small kiss. The brush of his plush lips against yours makes you sigh against his mouth, and his hands sneak around your waist to grip your hips, keeping you in place against his chest.  

He wasn’t going to let you sneak away with just the one kiss — he never does. 

A more insistent press from his lips makes you part your own, and he runs his tongue over your bottom lip.  

“Guys,” Steve whines, “Get a fucking room — I don’t want to see that shit!” 

The effort to pull away from Bucky’s lips is beyond tolerable, but you refuse to turn and look at Steve as you say, “Sorry, bro,” with little to no remorse for his fragile disposition as the older brother. Bucky does not tear his focus from you, rather, his lips quirk in a playful smirk at your snark. 

Unbeknownst to you and behind your back, your brother’s mouth upturns in a smile; the two most important people in his life finally together and so sickeningly in love. 

As of a few weeks ago, Bucky and you started officially dating after a shy, whispered question during the late Sunday morning of your first weekend together. 

Bucky’s small, timid question of what the two of you were once he dragged you back to bed — after the clean-up from a spilled gift basket in his haste — set the butterflies in your stomach aflame. 

Of course, there was no other answer but to rid the doubt in his mind and reassure him. 

From then on, the two of you lived in your own bubble of bliss. You, over the moon to finally be with your long-time crush; Bucky, unbelieving of the reality that he has and is deserving of the girl of his dreams, who loves and nurtures all aspects of him. 

The only way to describe you both during this honeymoon phase is inseparable — spending every single spare moment through college life with one another. 

But no matter how badly you wanted to be with him, and spend more time staring at his handsome features, your art finals were also crucial business — as was keeping Bucky’s GPA intact. The scholarship he revered depended on it. 

Steve’s voice brings you from the torrent of memories and back to the present where Bucky held you fast against his chest still. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

You reach around Bucky’s neck and twirl your fingers through his hair before whispering loud enough for only him to hear, “Ready to go, Puppy?”

The red flush of his cheeks and the part of his lips has you trying to hide the satisfied smirk that threatens to pull at the corner of your mouth — his new nickname borne from a quick-witted quip you thought nothing of, truly is one of your greatest accomplishments to date. 

You remember it perfectly.

Bucky leaned against the headboard, his lips in a full pout, and arms crossed tightly across his chest. The bare expanse of skin was shadowed by the low light of your bedside lamp. “No,” he grumbled, furrowing his brows with his sudden, foul mood. 

“Bucky— come on, we have to eat something,” you reiterated for the umpteenth time. 

“No.” The dramatics of his brooding had you struggling to rein your laughter in. 

“We’ve been cuddling for three hours,” you insisted, deciding to reason with the stubborn idiot. “I literally heard your stomach rumble an hour ago. You need food.” 

Bucky sulked. “No. Only need you.” 

“Oh my god,” you giggled, “you look like a kicked puppy, Bucky.” 

There was a deep, impatient huff, and then he stared at you, an expression of longing covering his features. It only exaggerated his puppy eyes. 

A bright idea came to you then, the comparison may just be what you needed to make the boy move… “Here, boy,” you called, patting your thigh with one hand and snapping your fingers with the other. “Come on, who’s a good boy? Huh? You want a treat, baby? Do you wanna be a good pup for me?” 

Bucky’s reaction was more than you could have ever hoped for — his entire body became deathly still for a moment, then his arms slackened to fall onto the bed and a deep flush of blotchy red trailed up from his chest and up to his neck. 

You would have been worried about overstepping if you hadn’t spotted the dazed, glassy look in his eyes, darkening the cerulean to an Aegean blue.  

Bucky liked it. 

The praise, humiliation, spliced with a pinch of demand — the entirely accidental recipe for how to break him. 

Ever since then, Bucky’s new nickname causes the most visceral reaction he so desperately tries to hide, with very little success. The quiet hitch of his breath has you trying to keep your composure, and if only to tease him a little more, you wink at him. 

In the present, he chokes on a sharp intake of breath and coughs. 

There’s a quiet, short bout of laughter behind you from Steve, but you focus on Bucky while he catches his breath, still beet red. “You ready to go, Buck?” you repeat, squeezing the back of his neck.  

The rapid semblance of composure did nothing to hide the effect your words have. He blows out a breath, and stutters a determinedly stoic, “Y–yeah— almost, just gotta— um— run and g–get my jacket.” 

You hum and bump your nose against his before stepping back to let him breathe, “Okay, Buck. I’ll be waiting by the door.” 

Bucky wastes no time in spinning around before taking off like a shot down the hallway towards his bedroom. As he disappears, you chuckle to yourself and wonder how embarrassed he will be when he realises that he is already wearing a hoodie.  

“You’re wicked.” Steve stands with his arms crossed and a raised eyebrow. But by the small smirk upturning his lips, you know he’s just as entertained with Bucky’s fumbling than you are. “He’s so whipped.”

Before you have a chance to retort, a honeyed, feminine voice calls from your brother’s room. “Steve, stop hounding your sister and leave her be! You promised me a foot rub.” 

“Oh?” It's your turn to cock your eyebrow, and you watch, all too righteously, while his cheeks turn bright red. “Remind me who’s the whipped one again, hm?” 

Steve flounders in place, his mouth opening and closing while he searches for the words to no doubt put you back in your place, but another voice beats him to it by calling out to you from the hallway. “Flower, you have no idea! Last week I got him to–” 

“Okay! That’s enough of that,” Steve interrupts, quick to shut down the reveal before it knew the light of day. He stalks down the hallway towards his bedroom, and as he goes, he yells over his shoulder at you, “Enjoy your time with Buck, sis, please don’t break him, we’ve got training tomorrow. Love ya — see you next week!” 

The door slams shut just as Bucky appears around the corner, clad in both a hoodie and a jacket, and his eyes dart everywhere around the room but at you. The realisation must have hit him, and he was far too stubborn to come back empty handed. 

Decidedly, you don’t question him on it. Instead, you hold your hand out to him and say, “Come on, handsome, we’ve got some studying to do.” 

And just like that, Bucky’s face lights up and he bounces towards you to interlace his fingers with yours. He follows you with ease while you lead him out his apartment to the elevator, the doors opening for you instantly for the both of you to step in. 

The floor numbers descend on the screen, and a companionable, comfortable silence floats in the air. Until you turn to the side when you feel the stare of your boyfriend. 

Bucky’s blue eyes shine brightly while he looks you up and down, taking you in once more, and your heart flutters against your chest with the soft smile pulling at his lips. “You look beautiful today,” he whispers, a line of worship that makes your stomach flip. While holding your gaze, he lifts your hand up to his mouth and places a kiss to the back of it. 

If the heart eyes from the cartoons were real, then your boyfriend takes the gold. 

You barely fight the urge to squeal out loud with the show of heartfelt adoration. “Thank you, baby.” 

The elevator doors open with a swoosh as you reach the ground floor. Squeezing his hand gently, you begin to lead him out the lift and towards the exit. “Let’s get going — we gotta make sure you ace this test.”

In the beginning, it took a while to process that you were Bucky’s girlfriend — an ease unlike any other helped you both fit together so seamlessly, as though you had been dating for far longer. 

That same ease also makes itself known in your shared sexual compatibility.

Ever since that fateful movie night back in Steve and Bucky’s apartment, the two of you went no further than making out at every opportunity that presents itself (or that you make) and grinding against each other until you both came — though it didn’t stop you both from doing it a lot. 

Sex for the first time is a big deal. Bucky’s admission of still being a virgin, and his comfort being your priority, you take every old and new venture into pleasure at his pace. But your hesitance is met with an unprecedented hunger that leaves you breathless with need, every single time. 

Bucky’s eagerness to feel you against him, the heat of your bodies intermingling as best they can between the layers of clothing always made him feral with want, and each time he ventures closer, further than he did before in his exploration of your body, it grows with such passion it scorches your skin.   

You were going to wait on his signal no matter how long it took. But a few signs were telling you, however, that Bucky wants it. 

Recently, your boyfriend has been a little more desperate, more so than usual. 

His whines and whimpers turn from breathy and high, to deep, animalistic sounds that send shivers up your spine. Bucky was already putty in the palm of your hands at the best of times, and to witness him let go of his inhibitions was addicting — you wanted more of him, and you have the inclination that he longs for the same. 

And although the both of you swore to one another that you would head to the campus library to focus on your studies, somewhere along the way, your feet took you straight back to your dorm room and into your bedroom. 

Your giggles and sighs echo off the walls, along with the rustling sound of your bed covers. “That tickles!” 

Bucky, the clever, sly boy he is, figured out far too quickly where the sensitive spots on your neck are. “‘M sorry, baby,” he whispers against your neck, his breath hot and fanning over the delicate skin. His sweet, tender kisses start to turn heated — more passionate and intense as his hands begin to wander over your body. 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes against the curve of your jaw. “You smell so good, Buttercup — could jus’ eat you up.” 

You softly moan in reply. The sudden hunger in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine and settle heavily between your thighs.

“C’mere,” he growls, and he rolls his body over yours, forcing you to lay flat against the mattress. You quickly wrap your legs around his waist as he trails sloppy kisses from the curve of your mouth and down the slope of your neck. “Atta girl, good girl.”

The feel of his lips against your skin makes your eyes flutter closed, and it’s entirely impossible to withhold your upper body rising with the arch of your back, pushing your covered breast up against his chest.

You can’t help but think of how confident Bucky has grown in such little time — his boldness only adding fuel to the fire.

Bucky firmly grips your waist in his hands with a thready moan, and he slowly, torturously inches them up towards the bottom of your tits. You feel the brush from the tips of his thumbs through the fabric of your bra and shirt, the pressure of them indescribable. 

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.” He squeezes his eyes shut as he tests a roll of his hips into you. The high moan that tumbles from your lips jolts him, and he thrusts forward with a small, disjointed groan — the heavenly pleasure of grinding his cock against your clothed cunt almost too much for him to bear. “Feel so good, Bee — holy fuck.”

You grin up at him, squeezing your knees against his hips. Another thing Bucky grew confident in: being vocal in the bedroom. His litany of curses and range of vocabulary comes to life if he loses himself enough; bold in his actions, he takes charge more and it leaves you a wreck every single damn time.  

“Gotta keep going, baby,” he pants into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “don’t make me stop, please don’t make me stop.” The desperation in his voice is as addicting as the pleasure he so freely gives, and you moan loudly to the ceiling. His pure, feral need to take what he wants only sends you closer to the edge. “Fuck–”

Your whines and pleas for more mix with his deep grunts on every grind into you. “Bucky, don't you dare stop,” you gasp, grabbing at his shoulders and wrinkling his shirt in your grip. “Oh my god, please don’t stop.” 

“Not gonna stop,” he promises as he pants against your neck. “Not gonna stop till you fuckin’ cum for me, Buttercup.”

You grab onto the back of his thighs, forcing him to rock against you faster. Harder. 

Bucky’s whimpers only serve to drive you crazier and with wild abandon, you buck your hips to meet his thrusts. “So close, baby. Almost there— oh, fuck,” you cry. 

Bucky bites the skin of your neck, causing you to gasp loudly and moan. 

“Fuck, doll,” he groans, and he swallows your whines with frenzied need, his tongue laving over yours. The harsh pants for air when he pulls back to speak send you into a whimpering mess. “Drivin’ me crazy, Bee. Need you so bad, you got no idea—” 

“Keep going, please, keep going!”

“—Gotta have you,” he grunts. “Need these fuckin’ clothes off — wanna see your perfect body.”

It’s hopeless to keep your moans at bay. His ferocity has you on the edge and your thighs shake as you balance on the precipice. “Gonna— gonna cum.” You tangle your fingers into his damp hair and pull. “Bucky, baby—”

“I know, pretty girl,” Bucky coos. “I’ll get you there, don’t worry—” 

“Please, please, please!” you frantically beg. The knot in your stomach is wound tight; the fast rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts pushing it to the point of shattering. 

With a slight shift in angle of Bucky’s hips, the tip of his cock rubs against your swollen clit through your leggings, and you scream from the sheer ecstasy that flows through your veins with your climax. “Cumming! I’m cumming— oh my god, I’m cumming!”

Bucky’s hips falter, and he chokes out a raspy moan, “Fuck!” 

The shattering of built-up tension rushes over the two of you; harsh moans fall from Bucky’s parted lips while he rides out his high, his hips continuing to grind against you. 

It all falls on deaf ears while fire still runs through your veins.  

“Holy shit,” Bucky whispers, finally slowing down his breathing and stopping the faltering, aborted thrusts of his hips. The growing wet patch that stains the crotch of his sweatpants no longer makes his cheeks flush with shame. 

Quiet whimpers and gasps for breath leave you unable to speak, to utter just how wrecked you feel beneath him. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky repeats, and he gently rests his lower half against yours while carefully keeping his upper body propped up on his elbows. “That was–” Hot breaths fan over your lips as he rests his forehead against yours. “So fuckin’ good.”

You laugh breathily and squeeze his shoulders, the press of your fingertips meeting hard, strong muscle.

It’s a peaceful moment; a serene bliss you only find in the comfort of Bucky’s arms. It feels right to be cocooned in his warmth — your boyfriend always making you feel safe. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky says softly, placing a quick kiss to your nose, then a lingering, passionate one on your lips. “I can’t– fuck, can’t believe you’re mine.” 

You smile brightly up at him, lost for words, and with a tired huff, he rolls off of your body to lay beside you. Your chests rise and fall in a soothing sense of synchronisation. 

The slow drain of adrenaline from your body erupts in a sudden fit of giggles.  

Bucky blinks, then smiles hesitantly, a confused quirk of his lips. “What’s so funny, Buttercup?” 

“I just–” You bite your lip in an attempt to stop your laughter so you’re able to respond to him. “Sorry– it’s just a little crazy to me how you’re not as shy as you used to be.” A teasing smirk pulls at your lips. “You’ve gone a little rogue, Pup.” 

Heat creeps up Bucky’s neck and covers his cheeks with an adorable red flush. Even if your man has gained a lot of confidence, he will never be able to rid the bashful puppy inside of him. 

“I should be worried,” you tease. “You’re giving me a run for my money.” 

“Right, that’s it.” Bucky suddenly shoots up and climbs over you, pinning you in place with his hips and thighs. One of his hands snakes up your arm, then the other, and you shiver with the ghost of sensation, only, he smirks. “I’ve got you now.” 

Your wrists are suddenly together, unable to move from the top of the bed and in the grip of his hand. “Hey–!”

There’s a wicked, playful glint in his darkening eyes as he looks down at you. “You’ll learn, Bee, that I’m not a man to be teased.” The hand he has free begins to flit over your ticklish spots. 

“Bucky,” You warn as you nervously chuckle, trying to edge away from his touch. “Don’t you even think about it.”  

That doesn’t deter him though. He runs the tips of his fingers, a feather light touch, underneath your tank top. “Oh, no– no, no,” he tuts. “I have the upper hand now, baby.”

“No!” you loudly squeal, trying to kick your feet to dislodge the weight of Bucky’s athletic build over your lower half, but it’s of no use. 

You burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter — tears start streaming down your cheeks while your boyfriend watches in cruel amusement above you. “Where did all that fighting talk from earlier go, huh, Buttercup? Where did it go?” 

“Okay, okay! I– I lose, you w–win!” 

With a satisfied sigh, Bucky yields and lets go of your wrists to bring one hand down to your waist, closely following with the other as he starts to gently stroke the exposed skin of your middle. 

“You’re too easy, baby,” he chuckles, fondness bursting over his features. 

“Yeah, well,” you sigh in defeat. “You played dirty. Best believe I’ll get you back, big guy.”

A comfortable silence stretches between you both while you breathe heavily and close your eyes against the exhaustion overtaking your limbs. The rush of endorphins and all manner of happiness still flowing through your veins.  

Until, “Did I go too far?” Bucky asks suddenly, his voice timid, small. 

The tone of his question indicates a sense of duality — he’s not just asking only about the tickle fight. 

You open your eyes to the view of his long hair hiding the two of you from the world; your room obscured by the curtain of it. The bright, shining blue of his irises steals your breath with the depth of emotion swimming in them — keeping you firmly within the bubble the two of you created in your passion.  

“Oh, Bucky,” you whisper soothingly, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek — the soft strands of his hair against your fingertips sends an unprompted shiver down your spine. You move your hand from his cheek so your index finger could press against his nose, then up to smooth over the furrow between his brows. “Not at all, handsome.” An effortless smile pulls at your lips, one that he hesitantly returns. “It was perfect, I promise.” 

Though he doesn’t seem to settle. Something is on his mind, that was obvious — his tells are easy to decipher from the time you spent studying his expressions. When he is unsure, hesitant, the tip of his tongue runs over his bottom lip; when anxious, his shoulders hunch inwards in an attempt to make himself smaller. 

Bucky swallows thickly. 

You frown. “Are you okay, Puppy?” 

The soft lilt of your voice soothes his worries, and he takes a deep breath before responding with a wavering, “I think I’m ready.” 

The implication of such a comment makes your eyes widen slightly — while the possibilities are endless for what he could possibly be referring to, you’re almost certain you understand exactly what he means. 

As though he suddenly realises how it could be interpreted, he barely whispers, “I w–wanna have— have sex.” There’s a slight tremble in his voice despite his courage to confess. 

You blink once, twice, hesitating only for a second before opening your mouth to reply, to question him, but Bucky rushes to add, “With you.”  

It’s your turn to swallow — despite the harsh dryness coating your throat. In the past, you had partners, summer flings. Few stayed, and even fewer were worth the trials and effort of a proper relationship. And through those couplings, sex became something that didn’t faze you. 

With Bucky it feels different. 

The connection is far more meaningful to you than any casual hookup from a club, and to know he is in a space where he is comfortable enough to place such vulnerability in the palms of your hands… It is not lost on you, the importance of his choice. 

You look deep into his eyes while you seek his full consent — if only just to quell the doubt that swells within yourself. “You’re sure about this?” 

“One hundred percent,” Bucky confidently assures. “I want all of you, Buttercup. And I wanna give you all of me.” 

Fuck, you curse to yourself. You didn’t deserve him. 

You nod, then say, “Alright, baby.” Bucky grins at you, and this time you rush to add, “Let me do this properly though, okay? I want to take you out; treat you like you deserve.” 

A sudden sheepishness clouds his expression, and his eyes dart downwards to your lips while he licks his own. “Mhm,” he mumbles quietly, “Y–You can do that if— if you like.” 

You take both of his cheeks in your hands, and you tilt his head up to place a soft, loving kiss to his swollen lips. When he makes direct eye contact with you, you whisper against his mouth, “You deserve the world, Pup — nothing less. So yes, I would love to.” 

The night of the long anticipated date night arrived faster than you realise — after classes, study sessions, and accompanying Nat to the boy’s football training to cheer them on, time flew by in a blur.

As much as Bucky begged you for a scrap of a hint or clue for what you planned, you kept it under tight wraps; a lock and key that will not budge for even the sweetest of pleas.  

It hasn’t been an easy task to stay strong against his wide, puppy eyes — on more than one occasion, you almost let slip. But with severe determination, you successfully keep it a secret. 

And by god are you proud of yourself for such an achievement. 

You know for sure that Bucky is going to enjoy himself tonight — every last stop pulled, and with the help from your brother for the venue, you feel confident in the plan.

That is, until you smooth over the invisible wrinkles of your dress for the umpteenth time while you make your way down the hallway towards their apartment, your stomach roiling with anxiety of the unknown. Will Bucky truly like it? What if he hates it–?

A hand with perfectly manicured, blood red nails grabs yours, and pulls your fidgeting fingers away from the seam of stitching to the pockets of your dress. “Babe, please stop panicking.” Natasha’s soothing tone brings you back down to earth. “You look incredible — Bucky isn’t going to know what hit him.”

After hearing of your plans from your brother, she was quick to offer her help with your makeup and hair, which you graciously and gratefully took her up on. You were desperate for some feminine support, and Nat came in the form of an angel sent from the heavens.  

The way she worked her magic left you unable to believe it was you staring back at yourself in the mirror; hair flawlessly styled and makeup ethereal. A shaky sigh escapes you. “You really think so?”   

All in all, as you walk down the hallway to the door that hides your date from view, arm in arm with your guardian angel, there is not one reason for why you are so anxious — though the pressure you place on yourself to make sure this date is perfect is among one of the chief suspects. 

You meant, wholeheartedly, what you told Bucky before — he deserves the world, and you crave to hand it to him. “I mean–”

“Listen to me,” Nat says fiercely as she steps in front of you, blocking your path to the door of the apartment and stopping you in your tracks. Her hands grip your arms, tethering you to reality. “I know for a fact that boy is going to positively die when he sees you.” 

The tension releases from your body with her comforting words, but Nat still goes above and beyond to bring you out of your spiral. “Hell, if I wasn’t already with your brother, I'd have snatched you up myself.” 

You can’t help the small smile that quirks your lips for her instilled confidence, and she winks. 

You’re grateful that Steve has found someone so genuine who you easily get along with. Natasha is a beautiful woman both inside and out, faultlessly honest and loyal — traits that are hard to find in a person, yet here she is, extending her help with little thought or expectation of it being returned.  

“Thank you,” you murmur, trying to convey how much you appreciate her. “Y–You didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“Maybe not.” Her hair bounces as she shrugs. “But us girls gotta stick together — especially now that we’ve got two helmet heads stuck to our back.” 

“Come on.” Her arm hooks around yours, and she pulls you along. “Let’s go get your boy.” 

Before you can blink, you are standing outside your brother’s apartment, and with a deep breath and moral support of the redhead on your arm, you bring your closed fist up to the wood. “Here we go.” Three, firm knocks ring through the silence, and you step back to wait. 

The anticipation doesn't last very long at all before the door swings inwards with a flourish. 

Steve stands in the entryway, his back turned towards you while he shouts into his apartment. “Hurry your ass up, Buck–!” You lightly switch your weight between your feet, waiting for him to turn around. “They’re at the door!” 

There’s a clattering bang and more curses from inside the apartment, when Steve finally turns around to greet you. “There’s my favourite girls—” He freezes in place, mouth slack from shock, and his eyes trail up and down your body. “Flower,” he gasps in awe. “Oh sis, you look so beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words immediately brings tears to your eyes, and Nat hisses at her boyfriend, “Hey, don’t ruin her makeup!”  

“I’m sorry,” Steve says slowly, still taking you in. “I just– you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you.” 

Nat hums happily while her hand rubs your shoulder. “Isn’t she? I said Bucky’s going to die when he sees her.” 

“Guys,” You whine, the hot flush of embarrassment leaves you feeling utterly flustered.  

Steve ignores you though, readily agreeing with his girlfriend as he opens the door wider to let you both enter. “She’s right, Flower. It suits you perfectly.” 

A surge of giddiness hits you — after a time of intense deliberation of your wardrobe, you chose one of your favourite sundresses to wear for the special night, a spaghetti strap in a soft, cornflower blue. A small surprise and homage to someone special. “Thanks Stevie, I really appreciate–”  

“Okay, okay, wait–” Bucky rounds the corner from the hallway as he enters the living room, interrupting you. “What about this one?”  

The cufflinks on his navy blue button-up steal his whole attention, while his long, chocolate hair conceals you from his view. He struggles fastening the cuffs with the subtle shake of his fingers, and you can almost hear his inner frustration when he huffs an annoyed breath, blowing strands of hair from his face. “Dammit, I swear–”

You stand there with thin lips to contain your laughter while waiting for him to look up.  

“Steve?” Bucky asks frustratedly after he doesn’t receive an immediate response. “Do you think Buttercup will like this outfit or not–” His head tilts upwards, hair falling either side of his handsome face that is painted with exasperation at being ignored, and his words falter.

Blue eyes widen in surprise to find you standing there next to his best friend. 

“Oh– fuck,” Bucky gasps, and his jaw slackens with the gravity of your presence; truly awe stricken by the sight of your opulent outfit and appearance. His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps uselessly around his inability to speak. 

The click of your shoes against the floorboards doesn’t snap him out of his daze let alone register in his mind, so deep in his fixation of you.  

You take the chance to admire his appearance. 

The navy, button-up shirt clings to his broad shoulders, accentuating the definition of the muscles all the way down to his forearms, and with each movement, the material tightens sinfully. The top few buttons of his shirt are left undone — a choice you’re most thankful for because of the tease of his bare chest. Black slacks fit snug to his hips and grip his thick thighs. 

On any normal day, when Bucky wasn’t out in the field in his football gear, he normally stuck to his casual clothing of an old t-shirt and sweatpants — comfort over presentability, not that you ever complain about the sight of him in sweats. But this is the first time you’ve ever seen him remotely dressed up.

You walk towards him and grab his hands with yours, stopping his absentminded fidgeting — gravity keeping him routed in place. 

“I think you’re absolutely gorgeous, Bucky,” you say, gazing into his eyes while you wonder how lucky you are to hold his attention in a room of his favourite people. “If that answers your question.”

“My god, Bee,” he whispers, finally able to give a voice to the flock of thoughts circling his mind. “You look stunning, baby — ethereal.” He laughs, a little deliriously. “You’re kinda killing me here.” His large hands encircle yours, bringing them up to hold against his chest. 

There’s so much emotion in his eyes as they dart over your figure like there’s not enough time in the world for him to take you in. 

“Give us a spin!” Nat calls into the charged air while she clings onto Steve’s arm, who watches on teary eyed. 

Bucky takes one of your hands and lifts it into the air, encouraging you to twirl. The skirt of your dress fans out around your thighs, and you can’t help but grin wide as your boyfriend whistles low. “You're a goddamn dream, Buttercup.”

He guides you back into his hold, before gently gripping your chin between his thumb and pointer finger to bump his nose against yours. “And all mine.” 

The way Bucky’s stare burrows deep into your soul and makes a home where he rightfully belongs — it takes everything you have to not blurt out the three words residing on the tip of your tongue, but something has you biting your lip against the impulse. 

Instead of declaring aloud what your mind and heart feel, you settle with another truth, “And you, Bucky Barnes, are a sight for sore eyes.” 

A dusting of pink spreads high over his cheeks, and you take pride in being able to fluster him so easily — your adorable Pup would never lose his bashfulness. 

“What did I tell you, honey?” Natasha bumps her hips against Steve’s as she snickers into her hand. “He’s practically drooling over her.” 

You join in with their laughter while Bucky pulls you close and buries himself into your neck, even more flustered from the insistent teasing, and he grumbles low into your ear, “Great, now there’s two of them.” 

Leaning back to better look at his flushed face, you assure him, “I think you’re adorable, baby.”

His eyes twinkle with a spark only you could ever bring out of him. “I’m excited for the night, Bee,” Bucky declares, honest and sweet. 

“Me too, handsome,” you readily agree while you step back, the small hops of uncontainable excitement making Steve and Nat chuckle. “Are we all set to leave?” 

“Oh!” Nat cries, “Before you forget—” She slips out of Steve’s hold and rushes into the kitchen, coming back a second later with a wicker basket full of food, the very same that she insisted on when she first found out about your date. With a wink, she hands it to you. “You can’t leave without this.” 

“You’re an angel,” you praise, walking towards her and holding your arms wide for a hug. She readily accepts it and kisses you on the cheek. “Thank you so much for this.”

Just as you step back from her embrace to grab her offering, Bucky swoops in and grabs the basket before you can even touch the wicker handle. “Hey! Excuse me, Barnes,” you scold, frowning at him. “I am more than capable of carrying that.”

“I know,” Bucky teases while he walks backwards towards the apartment door, a devilish grin on his lips. “But I don’t care for a picnic basket gettin’ in the way and ruinin’ the view of my girl in a pretty dress.” 

Your jaw drops from his suave words, and you stand there, flustered as you watch his retreating form. Without looking, he opens the door with his free hand and bids farewell to his best friend with a nod, then he smiles at Nat. 

Bucky then looks to you. The flick of his hair as he nods towards the hallway pulls you from the reverie. “Come on, beautiful. The night is young; the possibilities endless.” 

Where the hell has he gotten his silver tongue from? your mind questions. 

“He’s gotten too smooth for his own good,” Steve comments as though he read your mind, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“You don’t say,” you reply easily. To get to the door, you walk past your brother, and he slips a folded piece of paper into your hand while Bucky is walking into the hallway, his back turned. “I’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Steve grins. “Have fun, Flower — you deserve this.” Naturally, it wouldn’t be a traditional sibling farewell without a departing shout of, “And make sure you wear protection, shithead!” 

The Brooklyn streets are aglow from the overhead lights while the moon creeps up the horizon, watching over you and Bucky holding hands. He blindly follows you towards your best kept secret.  

“Let me get this straight.” Bucky swings your arm with his gently. “You’re telling me I can’t have any clues about where you’re taking me?” 

“Nope,” you respond, staying strong to your oath of silence. “We’re a couple of blocks away, you dummy. You’re going to find out in five minutes — be patient, I know it’s hard.” 

“C’mon, Bee,” Bucky begs. “You don’t wanna put a poor man out of his misery?” He lightly tugs on your intertwined hands to spin you into his chest. 

“Hey–” You look up at him to find his eyes hooded with barely restrained lust.  

“I almost died already after seeing you in that dress for the first time, and now you’re torturing me, I have to watch you walk in front of me in the damned thing.” 

Oh, you laugh to yourself. He’s really turning the charm up. 

“Puppy,” you whisper breathily, intentionally running a hand down his chest. The action and your touch makes Bucky shudder. “Believe me when I say I could make you do a lot worse.” 

A deep flush of red paints his cheeks and spreads blotchily down his neck, and his breath hitches when you cup his jaw in your palm. “Be good for me, and be patient,” you warn, the fan of your breath over his lips only worsening his flustered state. “I promise the wait will be worth it.”

“Y–Yeah, okay–” He clears his throat and sets you back onto your feet, though he does not release your hand.  

A flash of mischief darkens his eyes when you pull him onwards, and you look over your shoulder at him when he says, “Yes ma’am.” 

That is something you could get used to hearing. “Atta boy.”

The rest of the walk is quiet but calm — a mutual contentment stretching between the two of you where words aren’t needed. 

You know that around the next street corner lay your surprise, and Bucky still has no idea what is in store — the piece of paper that Steve gave you begins to burn a hole in your dress pocket.  

The exclamation of surprise that falls from Bucky’s lips when he lays eyes on the museum makes all the effort worth it, though it grows to a state of clear confusion from the furrowing of his brows. “Wait, it’s late — isn’t it closed?”

“Come on,” you say in reply, and instead of going to the main entrance, you lead Bucky towards an alleyway where Steve told you the back entrance for staff is situated.  

The crinkle of paper is louder than the cheering crowd at a football game, and you grip the invaluable information as you near the locked door. Steve’s offering rings in your mind: It will get you into the main foyer, from there, you’re gonna need to get sneaky.

Bucky’s hand squeezes yours in an attempt to get your attention. “Bee?”

You’re too homed in on the memory of Steve talking to you about your plan — one of their teammates works within the museum, and he was able to pull a few strings and call in a couple of favours for the gold mine in your hand. 

You determinedly walk towards the keypad built into the wall next to the door and unfold the note. In the process, you let Bucky’s hand go — you instantly feel the loss of connection.    

“Um— Buttercup,” he chuckles nervously, glancing over his shoulders to spot any onlookers. “I think this is classified as illegal trespassing right now.” 

“I mean,” you say, then you stick your tongue between your teeth as you work the six-digit code from the piece of paper to the keypad. The low tone press of each digit covers up the shuffle of feet behind you. “Bucky, it’s okay — it’s safe.”

“But–” He hesitates when the mechanism clicks to signify it's open. 

You look at him and suddenly grasp the idea that he is anxious — his football scholarship and prospective future could be ripped away from him within the hour should the two of you get caught by the authorities.

“Hey, hey, we’re good — no one’s gonna catch us, I swear,” you assure. Though he still looks on edge. You don’t want Bucky to feel apprehensive for the sake of his headspace or the rest of the evening, and your only option is to offer him your most sincere form of faith. You hold out your hand, palm up. “We’re gonna be okay. Trust me?”

  

There’s a small, nervous twitch of a smile on his lips, and then, finally, his tense shoulders and posture relax as he steps forward and sets his hand into yours with an ease that shocks you, only strengthening the solid connection you have. 

“Come on.” Bucky follows behind you, a slight laugh on his breath as you all but run into the museum. 

Different eras of evolution pass by in a flash; hundreds of exhibits dedicated to all corners of the world go ignored in lieu of taking Bucky to one place that, normally, was not an easy area to walk through and explore, given how popular the exhibit is. 

By the time you reach the doors hidden behind a set of double, velvet curtains, you’re out of breath. “O—kay,” you pant, hands on your hips as you slightly bend forward. “We’re — we’re here.”  

Your boyfriend, the teasing bastard he is, chuckles while he extends a hand to your shoulder, “Are you okay?” 

The bastard hasn’t even broken a sweat. 

“Fine — I’m fine,” you gasp, and you gesture at the curtains. “Come on, I can’t hold it in any longer–” The heels of your shoes click over the floor, and you push aside the curtains to reveal the door — only then do you turn around and smile at Bucky. “Here we go.”

The doors fly open with a flourish and reveal a domed planetarium with the signage above a giant moon: A Journey Through The Stars. 

It is a coveted event within the science community, and only after you hear of it through whispers in the halls of your dorms and classes did you realise it was perfect. 

Darkness cloaks and envelopes the two of you as you step inside — Bucky moving slowly in his daze of amazement. On strings and platforms above and lining the dome ceiling are twinkling lights and stars, the only source of lumination to show the wonderment in his cerulean blues. 

You watch from a distance with bated breath while Bucky stares to the ceiling, mouth agape, taking in the moving three-dimensional hologram above him and everything it has to offer. 

The galaxy, with its swirls of pinks, purples, and blues among millions of stars, are brought to life before his very eyes. Planets thousands of times bigger than the two of you cross and circle one another above your heads, closer than either of you could have ever thought possible, and yet, still only just out of reach — the concept achieves the impossible. 

In the end, you realise as you stare at Bucky, your heart swelling with the love that courses through you, that you have gone beyond the very goal you were desperate to attain; to give Bucky Barnes the world. 

He spins on the spot, eyes bright with a childlike awe you have only ever seen on the mornings you've woken up in his arms. The glow of the celestial wonders captures in that second, a memory that will last forever — the sight of your man, the centre of your world, underneath the stars. 

Ever so slowly, Bucky delicately brings his gaze back down to earth, and notices the distance between the two of you. His voice echoes across the room, off of the planets and stars as he asks with a waver in his voice, “H–How did you know?” 

You smile. “That you’re kind of an astronomy nerd?”  

Bucky only nods his head, still at a loss for words. Strands of his neatly tucked hair fall over his eyes, and you take a deep breath and steady your own voice. “Do you remember our first movie night with Stevie and Nat?” 

There is a small hum of acknowledgement from deep in his throat. 

“Well,” you continue, “I remember the two of them were arguing, it took them ages to settle on a film choice. I was beginning to lose my tether.” The recollection of the memory — their voices and banter make you chuckle. “Anyway, a trailer came up on the TV for an upcoming film about an astronaut getting stuck in space — the Martian, maybe? I’m not too sure.” 

He is purely focused on you as you speak, and you begin to recall your favourite part of the memory with a fond smile, ignoring the slight lump in your throat from the overwhelming flood of fondness and adoration. “But I watched– I watched as your head snapped up instantly. You were enamoured, Bucky — I’ve never seen you so hooked into anything more in my life.”

Time freezes as Bucky stands there, unmoving and speechless. The lack of reaction from him makes your stomach twist with nerves, and you rush to fill the silence, rambling on, “Then I noticed the smaller things. Your stack of astronomy books on your nightstand, the NASA merch I find when I steal one of your sweaters.” A small laugh escapes then at his incredulous expression. “And so, I went out on a whim, piecing everything together, and I– well, I thought I should try my chances.” 

“You really—” Bucky swallows the lump stuck in his throat. “You noticed all of that?”

“Of course I did, Bucky,” you tell him with reverence. “How could I not notice something you’re in love with?” The colours of the night sky shimmer over his face and over the sheen in his eyes as he stares at you. Hesitantly, you ask, “D–Do you like it?” 

“Do I like it?” He repeats, huffing a breath. “Do I– do I like it–?”

There’s a thud as the basket he was holding falls to the floor, and you gasp while he storms towards you and picks you up around your waist to spin you around in the air. 

His grin is wide while you squeal with shock. “Damn right I like it!” he shouts with pride. “My girl is the fucking best!” 

“Ah–! Bucky!” The skirt of your dress flutters over your thighs as you hold onto his shoulders.

He whoops and yells his happiness, and after a few rotations, he carefully places you back down onto the floor, only he doesn’t stop his persistent touch — kisses scatter over your face, never lingering in one place for more than a second. 

“You’re — so — amazing.” His lips move downwards from your face to your jaw, then your neck. “Can’t — believe — you’re — actually — mine.” 

The ache in your stomach flutters from your laughter, though you are on cloud nine and find it difficult to care when the boy you’ve had a crush on for so long is kissing your face like there is no tomorrow. 

Eventually, Bucky begins to calm down, settling his forehead against yours while wrapping his hands around your waist. “This means everything to me, Buttercup.” He grants you a slow, final kiss to your lips. “Thank you.” 

“You are more than welcome, sweet boy.” You move closer into his chest and peck him on the lips. “Now let’s have that picnic.”

The two of you sit under the largest planet, and you dive into the contents of the picnic basket to find Natasha has packed a whole range of finger foods from sandwiches, mini cakes, to strawberries and grapes. A small bottle of your favourite drink is tucked into the side of the basket, next to two glasses.  

After a toast, “To what the universe has planned for us,” you both bask in one another’s company — two tiny specks of the universe coming together as one. 

You listen intently as Bucky excitedly rambles about the different planets, as well as his love for Mars in particular. The gesticulation and smile on his face is priceless, and you only wish you had thought to bring a camera. 

Bucky continues endlessly — listing interesting facts about each planet and star he knew, and he goes into detail about any active NASA projects or upcoming ones he’s been keeping track of. 

Not only is he an avid storyteller, he makes sure to involve you in the conversation, engaging you with silly questions on whether you believe in other life out there, and any of your thoughts you have about historical space ventures. 

It is easy to fall into step with his passion, and you know that you could stare all night as his whole face lights up, especially his eyes, while he talks about something he thought no one noticed before. 

But you did. 

The highlight is when Bucky begins to talk about star constellations — his love and adoration surpassing that of anything you had heard from him before.   

He sits behind you, legs resting either side of your body while he holds you to his chest with one arm, the other pointing up towards the dome ceiling. “You see that one there, Bee?” There’s a cluster of twinkling stars in the direction of his gesture. “The large rectangle one — that’s Orion.”

The soothing rumble of his voice against your back is remedying — home.  

“It’s also known as Orion The Hunter,” Bucky explains further. “A Greek name, but its true origin is believed to come from the ancient times of Babylon.” 

“It’s beautiful, Bucky,” You sigh happily. The cluster and the whole of the night’s sky is truly beautiful — once they were just a pattern of lights in the sky to you, now they hold far more meaning. 

“Yeah,” your boyfriend agrees. You don’t see how his eyes flicker down to you, rather, you only feel his cheeks rising in a smile. “It is.” He clears his throat. “The constellation includes two of the brightest stars in the sky.” 

“Really?” You hunch forward a little to look upwards. 

“Mhm,” Bucky confirms with a hum. 

With a huff of effort, you push yourself up onto your feet, and walk closer to the constellation until you are directly underneath the pattern of stars. It’s with a new appreciation you stare up at the twinkling lights that you didn’t have before — admiring the complexity of the placement but the simple beauty of it. 

The reflection from the dome ceiling illuminates onto your skin, tattooing patterns of a realm that will never be discovered for its full existence. 

Bucky, however, focuses entirely on you — his girl, in a reality the two of you once never thought possible. 

A shuffling of feet comes from next to you, and Bucky stands and makes his way towards you. He places both of his hands onto your cheeks to tilt your head back down, to be back in the present with him. “Maybe not the brightest. But that’s okay, because that one is only meant for me anyway.” 

It’s sudden, but it consumes you whole — mind, body, and soul — of the realisation that Bucky Barnes is the love of your life. 

You fight the tears threatening to bubble to the surface, though it’s futile — a few escape and trail down your cheeks to collect on Bucky’s thumbs. Those three pesky words fight to spill from your heart and out into the open, to hang in the closing distance between Bucky and you. 

But somehow, it doesn’t seem like the right time. A fragile moment that while you know could truly never break, uttering those words feels like it will shatter the last of your resolve. 

And so, you save them; sealing your mouth closed with a sworn promise to let them go soon. 

Seconds go by as you collect yourself, and then you manage in a choked voice, “My, my — What have you done with my Bucky?” 

“He’s still here,” Bucky vows. “You just make me so dizzy — so goddamn fuckin’ dizzy — that I’ll spill whatever comes to mind.” 

That makes two of you.

You place your hands over his, still encapsulating your face. “Well, you certainly know how to make a girl swoon, handsome.”

His lips turn upwards in a lopsided grin that shows a slither of his pearly whites. “I would find a way to pull the moon out of the sky if you asked me to, Buttercup.” 

There is no doubt in your heart over that — Bucky would go to the ends of the earth for you. But you didn’t need that, you have everything you could wish for already in the palm of your hands. “Lucky for you, I’ll only ask for a dance underneath it.” 

Bucky’s lopsided grin turns into a thousand-watt smile, as bright as the stars above you both. “Now that is something I can make happen.” 

There’s no music, no beat for the two of you to follow, but that doesn't stop Bucky from gathering you closer to his chest — his arms cross over your back to pull you flush with his front. 

You turn your head to the side and lay your cheek against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to better hold him. 

The steady rhythm of his heart guides the steps to your dance, the slow sway side to side of your bodies. You feel the brush of his lips at your temple, then he mutters something under his breath; a barely there string of unintelligible words that do nothing but add to the peace of the moment. 

Bucky sighs and hugs you tighter. 

The night is only just beginning. 

Part Three

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ lakeside kisses ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : Luke finds his best friend out on the dock one night while Jack, Quinn, and all their friends are partying inside the lake house because she didn’t want to keep watching the guy she loves flirt and dance with other girls at the last party before the season begins

warning(s) : jealousy, mentions of alcohol, some use of alcohol, a heavy makeout (and a few lil ones but nothing too bad)

author’s note : friends to lovers w some jealousy ? i’m a suckerrr for combining the two

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One of the things she promised herself years ago was that she would never get jealous. Luke has had his fair share of girlfriends and casual flings over the last few years, and none of them made her as jealous as she is right now.

She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s had a handful of drinks or what but her entire body is shaking with jealousy.

Luke is in the living room with a red solo cup containing some kind of alcoholic drink. He has some rhythm as he dances to the music blaring from every corner of the house.

The thing is though — he’s dancing with some blonde girl that was invited. She stands in the doorway watching as Luke grinds his hips against the girl that was invited by one of the Michigan boys. She knows all of Luke’s friends, but this girl is nameless. She doesn’t recognize her.

She sips from her own red solo cup and feels her blood get hot when the girl says something to him and gives her a smile. The smile on Luke’s face is one she’s seen him give when he’s into a girl. He’s been giving it to girls since he was in high school.

Never to her. She’s the last person he’d ever smile at like that.

The amount of things she would do for Luke to look at her just once like that is endless. She often wishes that she was the girl on the dance floor with him. She wishes she would get that smile.

Luke wouldn’t look at her like that though. They’ve been best friends for years and she’s positive that he’s never even thought of her as more than his friend.

Meanwhile, she found herself falling in love with him the summer before he went off to Michigan. Quinn tried to help her out that summer but she let Luke go without telling him how she felt.

Two more summers have passed and here she is. Jealous of yet another girl that will have his attention for the rest of the night. Smiling at her with plans of spending the rest of the night with her.

Her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach at the thought of Luke abandoning her for another random girl from Michigan. It wouldn't be the first time and it appears as if it won't be the last either.

She downs the rest of her drink and leaves her spot. The room is getting too hot and stuffy while her head gets too full. She needs to cool off and clear her mind so she dodges everyone and ignores the looks she gets until she gets outside.

There are people crowding the deck so she heads down to the dock on the lake where the Hughes' boat floats so she can be completely alone. She pulls off her sandals and sits on the edge of the dock. Her feet up to her ankles are consumed by the water, but it helps her cool down a bit faster. She stares up at the moon and the stars that surround it and gets lost in her thoughts.

There is one thing she loves more than anything, and that's coming to Michigan every summer and spending the hot months with Luke, Jack, and Quinn. She's starting to think that next year, she'll stay in New Jersey because she isn't sure how much longer she can keep breaking her own heart by seeing Luke bring back girls all summer. She struggles with that enough during the season.

He should be hers every summer with no distractions, but Luke still goes out and finds a girl while he's with his brothers or he invites a previous girl out for a weekend. Sometimes, like tonight, one of his friends from Michigan will bring multiple girls to the house when there is a party.

Needless to say, she's sick of pretending like everything is okay when it's not. Maybe she and Luke aren't as close as they claim to be if he can't even see that.

Her phone buzzes a few times with a few texts about five minutes after she sits on the dock and she checks them to see if any of them are from Luke.

from: huggy bear - 10:38 pm you okay ? saw you walk out a lil bit ago. let me know if you need some company or anything, or if you need someone to vent to

from: lil jizzy - 10:40 pm you good ? or no ?

from: eddy - 10:45 pm are you bein a party pooper ? where did you run of to ? luke is gonna need his cup pong partner in a few mins

Nothing from Luke.

Disappointment floods her veins. She resists every urge to throw her phone into the lake and scream in frustration because why did she have to fall in love with her best friend? There are eight billion people in the world and she fell in love with Luke Hughes.

There's no way that she'll be able to come to Michigan next summer if this is the way she is feeling. She can't do this again. It hurts too much to keep doing this.

Footsteps sound on the dock behind her. They get louder as they approach her. There is movement beside her and looks to her left to see Luke sitting down next to her.

"Why are you down here?" he questions. "You usually love the last party of the summer so why did you leave?"

She sighs and looks out over the moonlit lake in front of her. "It got too warm," she lies. "I needed some air for a few minutes. You can go back. I'll be fine in a little bit."

Luke quiets down, but he doesn't make an attempt to get up. She tries her best not to look next to her at the man she loves.

It breaks her heart that she needs to start backing away from their friendship because of her feelings. She never wanted this to happen. The last thing she ever wanted was to ruin their friendship over her feelings. Another broken promise to herself.

Tears roll down her face and she quickly wipes them away. It's too late though when she does wipe them away because Luke notices.

"Okay, you're not out here because you got too warm," Luke says. "Do you want to tell me why you're really out here? Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing, Luke," she snaps. "Go back to the party. Please. I'm sure your guest is missing your presence." The word 'guest' rolls off her tongue like venom.

He remains quiet for a beat. "Why won't you look at me?" he asks. "Did I do something wrong? It sounds like you're mad at me and I don't know what I did."

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth before she finally turns her head to look at Luke. He's blurry with the tears in her eyes but she can clearly see in his eyes that he's worried that something is wrong.

"I'm angry at myself," she admits. "That's all. It doesn't have anything to do with you. It's literally me, not you."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he questions. "Because you're my best friend and I don't want you to carry this by yourself.

There are those words again. You're my best friend. That's all she will ever be to her.

With a heavy sigh, she looks back over the lake. "I feel like no one ever sees me as more than a friend," she begins to say. "I'm always looked at as a little sister to most of my friends, including most of the people here. No one finds me attractive. No one loves me romantically. Guys always describe me as 'cute', not 'beautiful' or 'sexy'. 'Cute', Luke. Sorry that I needed a second to come to terms with that."

Luke goes silent after that. He doesn't say anything when she's done talking. She presses her lips into a line and closes her eyes so she doesn't lose it.

"You are beautiful," Luke softly tells her. His voice is so soft that she barely hears him say it. Her head snaps in his direction when those words pass his lips. "I mean it. You're beautiful. You're probably the most beautiful woman I know. Your smile, your laugh. You're smarter than me in more ways than one. I don't think there is anything about you that isn't beautiful."

She raises her eyebrows. "You think I'm beautiful?" she questions.

Even in the dark, she can see how red his cheeks get as he nods in response. "Yeah," he sighs. "I can't believe no guys has snatched you up yet and made you his."

Words spill out of her mouth before she has the chance to think about them. "Because every guy I go out with can see that I already have feelings for someone," she admits. "But that guy has never seen me as more than his best friend."

His eyes widen at her confession. Her heart beats loudly in her chest. It's so loud that she thinks that Luke might be able to hear it.

"You should've told me," he eventually tells her. "I could've done this a long time ago."

Before she can ask what he means, Luke leans into her and captures her lips in a soft kiss. It's so gentle that she feels as if he's testing the waters between them. See how she reacts to the initial kiss.

She moves closer to him so her thigh is pressed against his. One of her hands comes down on his knee so she can turn toward him.

Luke pulls back from the closed-mouth kiss. She meets his eyes and asks, "Can you please kiss me like you mean it?"

With the smile she's always wanted to see, Luke brings his both of his hands up to cup her jaw. His fingers quickly find their way to the nape of her neck and he pulls her back in, kissing her deeply. It's a more confident kiss for both of them. There's passion behind his intentions, and she returns those same passions.

His parts her lips with his tongue and slides into her mouth with a soft hum when he gets his first taste of her. She wraps her free hand around one of his wrists to stay close to him.

The kiss leaves her breathless. She struggles to catch her breath the longer Luke kisses her, but she doesn't want to break the kiss. She's too afraid that this is a dream and she doesn't want to wake up.

When the opportunity arises, she slips her tongue past his lips. He tastes of beer and some kind of whiskey like he's been taking shots, but he tastes the way she thought he would. She smiles against his lips.

Luke drags out one final kiss before he breaks it so they can catch their breath. She can't get over how quickly his lips got swollen and red from the kisses they exchanged.

Giggles pass her lips and Luke smiles at her. She lightly sucks on her bottom lip with her own smile as she realizes he's giving her the smile she never thought she would get.

"How was that?" he questions. "Feel like I was kissing you like I meant it?" She nods. "Good, because I don't think I can stop now."

"I don't think I want you to stop." Her eyes fall back to his kiss-bruised lips. "Ever."

He starts to slowly lean back into her. "We should probably go back inside," he hesitantly says. "They're probably missing us in there."

She hums as her nose brushes his. "What would we do when we go back inside?" she questions with a soft voice. "Because I can't go back to how things were with us after this."

"I'd kiss you in front of everyone," Luke admits as his lips brush hers. "I want everyone to know you're mine."

"Even that girl that you were dancing with earlier?" she asks.

"I was just using her to make you jealous," he confesses. "Because I have been in love with you since we were in high school. I wanted you to finally notice me."

She pulls back a bit and meets his eyes. "I have always noticed you, Luke Hughes," she tells him. "Every time you would walk into a room, I noticed you. It's not because you're built like a tree either. You're always the first guy I find on the ice or coming out of the locker room. It's always been you and it'll always be you."

Luke smiles at her words. "Yeah, I think I wanna kiss you in front of all my friends," he explains. "I want everyone to know that I finally have the girl I've been in love with since we were 16."

With a gentle shove, she asks, "You've been in love with me since we were 16 and you're just now telling me? God, Luke. I've been in love with you for three years. You’re an asshole."

He laughs and stands up. “Well, I’m sure everyone has been waiting for us to get our heads out of our asses so let’s go show them we finally did,” he says. Luke holds out his hand for her to grab. She reaches up and grabs his hand so he can help her stand up.

Even once she’s on her feet, Luke doesn’t let go of her hand. Not that she wants him to. She grabs her sandals with her free hand before she walks back to the house with Luke. The wooden dock turns into grass then they reach the deck. That’s when she puts her sandals back on.

Together, they walk up the steps to the deck that looks out over the lake. They get a few looks as they walk into the house.

Luke guides her to the kitchen. The blonde girl that Luke was dancing with earlier intercepts them before they turn into the kitchen. “There you are, Lukey,” she giggles. “I was wondering where you ran off to. I’m happy you’re back though because we can start where we left off.”

He takes a step backward when she takes one toward him. “I’m good,” he replies. “Thanks for the dance though. I’d rather dance with my girlfriend now that I have one of those.”

The girl looks dumbfounded then looks between the two of them. “Whatever,” she snaps. “Eddy would never treat me like this.” Then she walks off with a flick of her blonde locks.

She looks up at Luke. “Girlfriend?” she questions.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies. “If you think for one second that I am going to look at you as a friend again, you’re wrong. I am always going to look at you like the girl I love. You’re my best friend and my girlfriend all in one person, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Without even thinking, she reaches up to drag him into a kiss. Luke steps forward until she steps back against the wall. He towers over her but she doesn’t even care at this point. She kinda loves that his entire body covers hers. He pins her waist to the wall behind her at the same time her fingers find his curls.

She plays with the curls on the back of his neck as Luke deepens the kiss. She presses into his mouth and he lets out a groan that only she can hear.

Luke wraps his arms around her waist but before he can do anything else, a voice comes from beside them.

“The fuck?” Jack questions. They break the kiss and look at the middle Hughes brother. “Oh my God. They finally did something. Quinn! Quinn, come here! Before you miss it!”

She leans back against the wall when Jack runs back into the kitchen, but Luke doesn’t let her go so she doesn’t get that far. Jack remerges with Quinn, Cole, Z, Ethan, and Seamus. “Well, holy shit,” Trevor laughs. “Baby Hughes finally grew a pair and did something.”

Quinn claps for them and Luke groans before burying his face into her shoulder. “Tell them to leave,” he mumbles. “I changed my mind. This is so embarrassing.”

With a smile, she plays with his curls while looking at his friends and brothers. Quinn winks at her before he walks off and suddenly it makes sense why it took so long for someone to go check on her. Quinn probably went and got Luke so they would talk.

She makes a mental note to thank him whenever she gets the chance. He tried helping her three summers ago, but they never ended the way this summer did. She got some lakeside kisses this summer and is bringing a boyfriend back to New Jersey in a week.

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MASTERLIST

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[leclerc-hs]

piano lessons - cl16

Pairing: charles leclerc x femstudent!reader Summary: in which the tension between you and your music teacher finally breaks Warnings: smut, oral (f-receiving), 18+, not proofread, bad French! Word Count: 1474 Author's Note: idk I really just felt the need to write this. please correct my french if you can

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

EVER SINCE YOU were a little girl and your parents placed you into piano lessons, you knew you were destined to play and write music. It became your sanctuary, a place to escape from the demands of reality and a medium through which you could mold reality into art. Now, it propels you into a university music course, where your path intertwines with that of one of the most attractive professors you’ve ever encountered. Scratch that, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever encountered.

You weren’t oblivious to his stares. The way his green eyes sometimes lingered on you much too long as he spoke in front of the class. Today, for instance, his gaze seemed fixated on the end of your short skirt, where your fingers fumbled with the fabric. He tended to single you out frequently, using you as a shining example to illustrate correct procedures for everyone. His praise for your efforts seemed never-ending. It would send you leaving the class all blushed and flustered constantly.

You weren’t completely innocent either though, and it didn’t help that he was so fucking hot. His hair perpetually tousled from running his hands through it, and the veins in his fingers pronounced whenever he played the piano. You found yourself often fixating on his hands, imagining what they might feel like on your body. It was a tantalizing thought, wondering if he could play you as skillfully as he played the piano.

His hands were artwork in themselves.

At times, you sensed the mutual attraction, a subtle dance of connection that left you questioning whether it was real or a product of your imagination. Doubts lingered until today, when Adam, the person seated beside you, relentlessly pressed to take you out. His persistent advances bothering not just you, but apparently your professor as well.

“Adam, Je te suggère de te concentrer sur ton devoir.” I suggest you focus on your assignment. Towards the end of class, it appeared that your teacher had reached a point of exasperation. “Elle ne te veur pas.” She doesn’t want you. “Arrête de perturber tout le monde.” Stop disrupting everyone. You could sense the annoyance in his tone and the way his body tensed when Adam first asked you out.

What he really meant was:

You don’t deserve her

You couldn’t give her an ounce of what she really needs

Stop pissing me off

The class responded with snickers, accompanied by a round of “Oooo burn” echoing throughout the room. You felt your cheeks turn red of embarrassment for yourself but more so for Adam.

“C’est assez aujourd’hui!” That’s enough for today! He dismissed the class. “Profitez bien du week-end!” Enjoy the weekend!

While the other students hurriedly exited the classroom, you hesitated, lingering behind. Restlessly tapping your foot, you watched as your music teacher casually leaned against the desk. His arms, robust and defined, stretched the seams of his t-shirt sleeves as he folded them across his chest, fixing you with a curious gaze.

“Est-ce que je peux vous aider?” Can I help you? His lips tugged up into a sheepish smile. 

You felt yourself fidget with the bottom of your skirt as your eyes met with his. “Oui, besoin d’aide avec ma chanson Mr. Leclerc,” Yes, I need help with my song. “Je n’arrive pas à trouver la fin correcte.” I can’t get the ending right.

It wasn’t a complete lie. You genuinely needed help with your ongoing composition. Each conclusion you attempted just didn’t carry the sense of completeness you were aiming for. But you also just wanted to be around him more. 

“Joue pour moi.” Play for me. As he extended his arm, gesturing towards the piano, you couldn’t resist the pull, finding yourself moving towards the piano and taking a seat. His attentive eyes tracking your every movement stirred a nervous excitement within you, simultaneously igniting a passionate fire. The shared moment at the piano became more than help; it became a dance of anticipation and unspoken connection.

He found himself utterly captivated by you – the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth in intense focus, the moments when you lost yourself to the music. The cascade of your hair falling behind you revealed the delicate curve of your neck. He wanted to ravish you. 

As you were engrossed in playing your song, you felt him slowly edging closer until he was standing directly behind you. The sensation of his front against your back sent goosebumps racing across your exposed skin. The contact led to one of your fingers slipping, hitting an incorrect key.

You couldn’t see, but a smirk played on his lips as he noticed the small mistake. It was subtle and almost imperceptible. Yet, the knowledge that he, someone aware of your exceptional talent on the piano, induced even a minor slip, fueled his ego. 

You were aware he had heard the mistake, but he didn’t interrupt you. Consequently, you carried on playing, immersed in the fragrance of his cologne, losing yourself in the music until you struck the very last note. The moment your fingers left the keys, you slid off the piano bench and directed your gaze towards him. You leaned against the side of the piano, your elbow propped up on it. 

“Tu es magnifique,” You’re magnificent. The words alone caused a visceral reaction in your stomach, a tightening with need. You couldn’t pinpoint when or how he had gotten so close to you again, but in that moment, you didn’t care. 

In that moment, you forgot that you even needed help with the song. All you could do is stare at his eyes, noticing how they would occasionally drop to glance at your lips.

“Oh merde, embrasse-moi, s’il te plait,” Oh shit, please kiss me. You whispered it so softly, it was barely audible. You didn’t care if you put yourself out on a limb. The constant back and forth had worn you out; it felt like an endless game of cat and mouse.

You could barely finish your sentence as his lips crashed down on yours and his tongue slipped inside of your mouth. He was gentle, but also demanding with it. Your fingers graze his hair, something you have always wanted to do, pulling him closer as his hands find a place on your hips, lifting you onto the piano.

The fingers of his right-hand sneak under the hem of your skirt, his fingers fumbling with the same spot of the skirt yours did moments ago. 

“Puis-je?” Can I? You eagerly nodded, allowing him to push your skirt up and pull your underwear to the side. He paused for a moment, just staring at your heated center. His eyes darkening in hunger at the sight of you. 

“Merde,” Shit.  He groaned. Literally groaned at the sight of your bare pussy on display for him. You were already wet before he placed the pad of his thumb directly onto your clit, rubbing tiny circles before he brought his lips to you.

“Je rêve de ça constamment,” I dream about this constantly. He moaned into your pussy, the vibration and confession pushing a needy cry from your mouth.

He wrapped his lips around your clit, immediately moaning at the taste of you. You let out a sharp cry as your back arched in response to the suction on your clit. One hand held your body up-right while the other fisted his hair in a tight grip. 

He lifted his head for a mere second just to look at you, locking his eyes with you as he pushed two fingers into your heated center. His eyes were dark, and his lips were so glossy, coated with you. You almost came at the sight of him right there.

You were moaning so loud as he curled his fingers, rubbing the spot you ached the most just right. “Tu es tellement putain de belle,” You’re so fucking pretty. He moaned before bringing his lips down you your center and pressing kitten licks to your clit. His fingers still pumping in and out of you rapidly.

It was too much. His fingers, the kitten licks, and the pressure of his nose on you was becoming overwhelming.

“Please don’t stop sir,” you moaned repeatedly. Your legs wrapped tightly over his shoulder, suffocating him into your pussy.  “Ça fait tellement du bien.” Feels so good.

You came unexpectedly with a loud cry, your thighs squeezed tightly against his head as he didn’t let up on the assault of your pussy. He took every drop of your orgasm like it was his source of oxygen. 

Your body fell limp on top of the piano as Charles placed gentle kisses to the inside of your thighs. 

“Puis-je le refaire?” Can I do it again? “Tu as un gout délicieux.” You taste so good.

Yes. Yes you can do it again.

[dulcescorderitas]

𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓴 C.Kent

author's note: this is my last post for the day! i've been posting as much as my brain can handle. 😅

the nightclub swallowed you whole, its pulsing bass and chaotic lights disorienting and thrilling all at once. the air was thick with bodies and heat, but nothing compared to the magnetic pull of the man leaning against the bar.

clark kent.

but not the clark who used to smile so softly at you that your knees went weak. no, this clark—the one who vanished from your life for three months and left you to ache for him—was a shadow wearing his face. his black t-shirt clung to his chest, his broad shoulders cutting an imposing figure in the neon haze. his glowing red eyes pinned you in place as soon as you caught sight of him.

you swallowed hard, nerves twisting in your stomach. before you could decide whether to approach him or bolt, he smirked. that smirk. arrogant. sharp. like he’d been waiting for you to make your move.

“well, look who decided to show up.” his voice cut through the noise as he appeared in front of you, faster than you could blink. the heat of his body was suffocating, his presence overwhelming. “miss me, baby?”

“clark—”

“don’t.” his hand shot out, gripping your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to his. his thumb brushed over your trembling lower lip, his smirk widening as his eyes roamed over you, predatory and unhurried. “i’ve seen that look before. you’re dying to know where i’ve been, aren’t you?”

“yes,” you admitted, your voice a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. his grip tightened just slightly, enough to make you gasp.

“three months without me, and you still can’t stay away,” he said, his tone dripping with mockery. “it’s cute. pathetic, but cute.”

before you could snap back, his mouth crashed onto yours. it wasn’t a kiss—it was a claim. his lips moved against yours with an arrogant, practiced ease, his teeth catching your bottom lip and tugging hard enough to sting.

“open up,” he growled against your mouth, his tone daring you to defy him.

your lips parted instinctively, and he took full advantage. his tongue thrust into your mouth, tasting you, owning you, his spit mixing with yours in a messy, dominating kiss. he kissed you like he wanted to ruin you, and you could do nothing but let him.

“god, i forgot how fucking good you taste,” he muttered when he pulled back just slightly, his breath hot against your swollen lips. he smirked at the dazed look on your face, licking his own lips as if savoring the moment. “bet you’ve been dreaming about this, huh? all those lonely nights, wishing i’d come back and do this.”

his hand slid down to grab your ass, his grip firm and unapologetic as he pulled you against him. the hard line of his arousal pressed into your stomach, and you bit back a whimper. he chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through your body.

“yeah, you missed me,” he said, his voice full of smug satisfaction. his other hand trailed up your side, his fingers brushing just under the curve of your breast. “you’ve been desperate for me to touch you again. admit it.”

“i—”

“don’t lie,” he interrupted, his lips grazing your jaw before his teeth scraped against your neck, making you shiver. “your body’s already telling me everything i need to know.”

he kissed you again, rougher this time, his tongue sliding against yours with an intensity that left you breathless. spit slicked your lips, the taste of him intoxicating and overwhelming. his grip on your ass tightened, pulling you closer, his other hand grabbing your jaw to keep you exactly where he wanted you.

“mine,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and possessive. “you’ve always been mine.”

and god help you, you didn’t want it any other way

[whorekneecentral]

Old Friends

Lance Stroll x Vettel!Fem!Reader

Warnings: big brother seb!!!, queen hanna appearance + a mick and gina cameo, lance has a crush, alcohol and the consumption of, being tipsy/kinda drunk, mentions/ insinuated that someone cheated, nipple play, oral (m!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, seb teasing the two of you.

Word Count: 2,492

Author's Note: this is one of my favs so far. I couldn't write lance and not put in seb, it just wouldn't be me.

merry smutmas series

--

Lance gets an invitation to an old teammate’s place to ring in the new year but he finds himself too distracted by someone in particular to care about the ball dropping.

The invite came in the mail; a dying trade his former teammate would tell him.

A little brown envelope with silver glitter all over it, surely his girls helped him put it together. The card inside was hand written, Sebastian's scrawled cursive with pictures drawn in pencil crayon and covered in glitter at the bottom.

You're invited to the Vettel household on December 31st at 9pm for a New Year's Eve celebration.

Please rsvp by December 22nd.

With love,

Sebastian, Hanna & the Vettel children.

Lance didn't have plans, his parents were doing their own things and Chloe would be in Australia with Scotty and his family so he took his phone out and texted Seb right then.

To Seb: Hey man! Got your invite, tell the girls I said their drawings were adorable. Just letting you know I'll be there :)

It took Seb 10 minutes to reply.

From Seb: Thanks Lance! The girls say hello and thank you. We can't wait to see you.

--

Lance finds himself on the Vettel's doorstep on New Year's Eve, a bottle of some expensive Swiss wine in hand. He knocks on the door and Hanna opens it with a little boy in her arms.

"Lance!" She smiles, stepping to the side for him to come in.

"It's so nice to see you," the younger driver says, kissing her cheek before saying hello to their son.

"Please make yourself at home. Food and drinks are in the kitchen and Sebastian is somewhere around here." She tells him, rocking the sleepy boy, "you know how he is." She laughs, shutting the door.

Lance nods, smiling at her as he follows her into the house. The place is full, he showed up around 10 rather than the 9pm invite but it doesn't seem to make a difference. Everyone is all over the place; he goes over to say hello to Seb and then bumps into Mick who was there with his girlfriend, sister and her boyfriend.

He does in fact make himself at home, putting the wine in the kitchen before getting himself a drink. His red solo cup has some vodka in it and he spins around, looking for the cranberry juice. He sees everything but that.

"Need help?" A voice comes from behind him and before he turns, he knows exactly who it is. He smiles when he does turn, now face to face with her. "Hi y/n."

"Hey Lance," you smile, "what are you looking for?" You walk over, hugging the man hello.

"Cranberry juice." He tells you and you nod, walking to the fridge to grab it.

Lance watches you, admiring your outfit; a slinky silver top and a black mini skirt that frankly wasn't very family friendly but was on par with the theme of the night. He had met you when Seb became his teammate at Aston, you had a habit of following your brother around the world when you got bored of your life. You were only a year younger than Lance but he was intimidated by you.

You were just as bubbly and fun as Seb, loud and out there but in Vettel fashion, you could become broody at the snap of your fingers; something that only happened if someone fucked over your brother or at least that's when Lance noticed it.

Now if Mick had walked into the kitchen then, he'd be teasing his friend.

He was aware of the crush his friend had on his other friend. Mick had encouraged Lance to talk to you time and time again but he could never work up the courage. When he finally did, you were in a relationship and you had been since.

"Here," you hand the bottle over to him, "I put it in the fridge. It gets gross.. well even more gross when it's warm."

Lance smiles, "thanks." He pours the juice into his cup, before settling it back into the fridge. In the meantime, you had been filling a few shot glasses with what looked like tequila.

"Are you driving tonight?" You asked, downing one of the shots. Lance shook his head, "took an Uber."

"Perfect," you handed a shot over to him, picking up another one for yourself. "Bottoms up, Stroll." You tapped your glass to his and down the tequila.

Lance makes a face, clearing his throat which makes you laugh. "So, how are you? How's Fernando as a teammate?" You ask him, pouring some soda into a glass.

"I'm okay. He's pretty okay too, he's no Sebastian Vettel though."

You smiled, "that's what I like to hear. I've been keeping track, you did great this season."

"Yeah? You think so?" He asks and you nod, leaning on the counter as you take a sip of your soda. "Thanks," he smiles, taking a sip from his glass in hopes that it covers the blush on his face. "So uh.. how have you been? How's your boyfriend?"

"I'm good," you smiled, "as for him? Who knows, he's probably fucking some model somewhere."

Your words catch him off guard, Lance chokes on his vodka. Your brows furrowed, his hand rubbing at his chest as you looked at him. "Sorry, I just... I take you two aren't together ?"

"No," you shook your head, "it's whatever though."

"Sorry to hear that," he tells you and you shrug, smiling at him. You were about to say something but Gina was shouting for you, something about shots. "Excuse me," you smiled at Lance, picking up the bottle of tequila and the pack of shot glasses before heading over.

As much as Lance wanted to be sorry about your relationship ending, he couldn't be. This must be some sort of gift from god, for you two to be in the same place while you're single and he had enough liquor in him to tell you the truth.

--

The hours go by and it's inching closer to midnight with each passing second and you were dancing around the kitchen as you got a snack. A slice of pizza held between your teeth as you poured yourself a drink.

"Hey," you mumble, mouth full as you take the bite and hold the pizza. Lance smiles at you as he gets himself another drink. "Hey."

"You good?" You asked, setting your pizza on the counter. Lance nods, "perfect, you?"

"Yeah," you smiled, shimmying your shoulders as you danced your way over to the Canadian driver. He smiles, watching you. The many tequila shots added up over the night and the fact that the tiles were sticky from what seemed like spilled soda, caused you to slip and fall right into Lance.

His drink spills all over your very cute top. "Oh damn," you tsked, looking down at yourself. "Oh shoot, are you okay?" you asked, looking at him to see if anything got on him.

"I'm okay, are you?" His hands held your forearms, steadying you. "Do you need to change?"

"I probably should," you tell him and Lance nods for you to walk, his hand holding onto your arm to keep you steady. He knew the layout of the house, he had come over for dinner many times before and he had spent the night after one too many glasses of wine.

Lance walks you up the stairs, hands on your waist as you two head up. You walk into the guest room and Lance shuts the door, "are you okay ? Do you need help finding anything?" He looks at you as you sit on the bed.

You shook your head, "all good, Lance. Thank you."

He nods, taking that as his cue to leave so you could change. As he turns towards the door, you grab his hand. "Can you.. undo the knot?" You turned your back to him, pulling your hair up.

It was two single knots done up with a bow behind your neck and your mid back that kept your top up. Lance carefully undid the knot on your back, letting the strings fall to the sides and your bare back left exposed.

"The.. the other one too?" He asks and you nod, "please."

Lance is hesitant, but he reaches forward and pulls the string, undoing the knot. The silver fabric falls to the floor, the beading on it clings when it hits the floor.

Your back is still facing the driver, you've dropped your hair back down but it's abundantly obvious to Lance that he's stood in the room with you, while you were.. well, topless.

"I should.." he starts but you turn to face him, his eyes shifting down to steal a glance at your tits and he looks back up at your face - it took all but a second and he was but a man.

You smile, holding his jaw with your hand. "Stay."

"I really shouldn't." He whispers and you step closer, my chest pressed to his. "Why not?" You asked, standing on your tiptoes, lips ghosting over his.

He doesn't answer but he lets you kiss him, his cold hand rests on your lower back, pulling you flush against him. "You're drunk," he whispers against your neck and you shake your head, "I'm not."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" His eyes find yours when he pulls back and you nod. "I do."

"Okay," he says, kissing you again.

Your hands make quick work of his shirt, undone the buttons as he kisses down your neck to your chest. Lance has got an arm around you, his lips moving down towards your tits, his lips wrapping around your nipple.

The sound that leans your mouth was like heaven on earth to him; he can't wait to find out what other filthy sounds you could make.

It was much too loud downstairs for anyone to have a clue what was happening upstairs. The door was locked and he knew you had at least 40 minutes to midnight.

You push him away for a minute, the man looks at you confused as you scoot him back to the bed, letting him fall onto the soft mattress. Lance expects you to get on top of him, not sink to your knees in front of him.

"Baby-" "Shut up," you tell him, undoing his pants.

He smiles, carefully pulling your hair out of your face as your hand wraps around his cock. Lance bites back a groan, watching as your hand moves up and down slowly, your lips brushing over the tip.

"Please," he whispers and you smile, looking up at him through your lashes as you take him in your mouth. This time, he does groan out loud. "Fuck," he sighed, your hair into a make shift pony tail in his hand.

Your cheeks hallowed, head moving up and down. Lance watches your every movement, eyes fixed on you and everything you did; had he known, he would have spoken to you much sooner.

The stifled gag comes when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, eyes watering as you pull back a bit. Lance pulls you up, "as much as I want you to keep going, I wanna cum somewhere else."

"My mouth is just as good, Lance," you tell him, wiping the side of your lips with your thumb, sucking your finger. You don't miss the way his cock twitches at the action.

He smiles, "I'm sure it is, but c'mere."

You let him pull you up before you get on his lap, straddling him.

There was enough liquor in your systems to give you the courage to do things you wouldn't normally do but that you’d definitely remember. 

Thighs squished on either side of him and your arms over his shoulders. His hand slides down from your hip to your ass, giving it a little squeeze. He smiles at you, admiring you. "Now, are you gonna stare at me all night or fuck me like I know you've been wanting too?"

For the second time that night, Lance had been caught off guard by your words. "You.. knew?"

"Of course I did, your staring wasn't exactly discreet, babe." You smile, pinching his cheek before you kiss him.

Your skirt bunched up on your hips, panties pulled to the side as you sank down onto his cock.

His hand on your hip guiding you, letting you bounce on his lap, his name falling from your lips.

Lance bucks his hips and your nails drop down from his shoulders to the scratches along his back. He lets out a groan, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand tangles in his hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss him. You kiss all over his face, Lance's cheeks red not just from the lipstick you had on but from the blush forming on his cheeks; though if you asked him, he’d blame it on the liquor. 

"Fuck," you mumble, Lance's arms around you to keep you steady as you bounced on his lap, back arched slightly.

His hands squeeze at your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave behind fingerprints. 

“Mmm there,” you breathe, chest pressed to his. 

Lance's lips find your shoulder, he bites down softly when he feels you clench around him. “Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” He whispers into your shoulder, peppering kisses over where he had just bitten. 

Humming, your arms are wrapped around him, over his shoulders when you cum, wetness covering his cock. It takes only a few more thrusts and Lance follows behind you, the two of you holding onto each other for a while. Your legs are like jelly when Lance helps you up, letting you fix yourself.

He too get redressed and you change into a different top, fixing your skirt and your makeup before turning to him.

"11:58, we can make the ball drop." You grab his hand, pulling him out of the room with you.

Everyone was in the living room, watching the TV and chatting as they awaited the count down. Your brother notices your return, as well as Lances, who stood behind you.

"Outfit change?" Seb asks, handing you a glass.

You nod, "spilled soda on my other top." You tell him, watching as he passed a glass to Lance.

Seb hums, nodding. "And you required Lance's assistance to change?" His brow raises and your cheeks go red. "I.. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah," Seb laughs, "whatever, y/n."

Lance smiles, his arm over your shoulder as the countdown plays; 10, 9, 8.

Your fingers interlock with his; 7, 6.

His cheek presses to yours; 4, 5.

"3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!" The people in the room cheer, friends hugging and lovers kiss. Lance leans over and you turn a bit, your lips pressing to his for a new years kiss.

"Happy New Year, Lance." You smiled, wiping the lipstick from his lips. "Happy New Year, Y/n."

---

taglist:  @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter One- The Consummation

Summary- With the Targaryen dynasty at risk, the last of the family must make unsavory decisions in order to ensure their reign continues.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Angst. Politicking. Consummation of marriage with witnesses. Mentions of death. Trauma. Uncomfortable smut.

Author's Note- This first chapter is not very sexy!! There is (consensual) smut but it is not hot nor is it meant to be. The sexy smut will happen later. With that said, the link to the full chapter is below :)

series masterlist

When the dust settles around the Dance of the Dragons, she is the only member of her family still alive.

Her mother burned by dragonfire, her step father cut down on dragonback. Jace and Luke lay dead at the bottom of the ocean alongside Aegon and Viserys while Joffrey lay scattered across the streets of Flea Bottom. It is a reality she does not like to face and though she still has Baela, Rhaena, and their grandfather, she knows she is the last of her family line. The last of Rhaenyra's blood, the blood of the true heir. 

It is that blood that damns her the moment Aegon is found poisoned, laying dead in his litter.

She had been spared alongside Baela and Rhaena, though she knew that was more so Corlys's idea than anyone else's. Aegon had demanded her head the moment he learned that it was she and Silverwing who had been responsible for Daeron's death but Corlys had managed to talk him down to simply keeping her as a hostage. He had argued that by having her bend the knee, it would show her mother's loyalists that he was the true king above all others, that her fealty had the power to stop Cregan Stark's march south and would calm tensions in the Riverlands and Eyrie. Aegon had agreed, though only after Alicent had prompted him to, and she had been spared from the executioner's block. Though as she sits at the small council table, staring at her last living uncle, she wishes Aegon had found the kindness in his black heart to swing the axe.

The Battle Above the God's Eye had left Aemond with another scar, this one having ripped through the flesh of his left shoulder and bicep. She wishes it crippled him further, that Daemon's final act managed to cut his arm from its socket, gouge out his last remaining eye and send him plunging into the depth of the God's Eye but other than a deep new scar, her step father managed little. 

"Lord Corlys and I believe that it is important, especially now, to assure the smallfolk that this war is far behind us now. Aegon's death threatens the already fragile stability we have managed to find ourselves on," Alicent explains, though it is not directed at her. They had all been whisked away into the small council chambers less than a handful of hours after Aegon had been found dead and that grief is still present in Alicent. Her eyes are rimmed red- a common trait of hers now- and her voice is hoarse from crying, but she still manages to stay strong before the men gathered. She and Aemond had been ordered to sit in on the small council meeting but neither have been given leave to speak. They sit silently, waiting for the moment that deemed their appearance here necessary as Alicent turns to her grandfather. "Which is why we have come to a kind of agreement."

"We want the Iron Throne to remain in Targaryen hands just as fervently as all others here and with the death of our king so fresh, it is of the utmost importance that we find a suitable heir quickly. One that puts both the Blacks and the Greens at ease and prevents a continuation of the war," Corlys says, fingers pushing at the small ball that rests before him. 

When the two of them had the time to discuss a potential heir, she has no idea, but perhaps it is a blessing that they had. With Aegon and all his children dead, there are few options left for the throne. She knows in her heart that she is the legitimate heir, being the only one left who has Rhaenyra's blood running through her veins, but she is a woman. After all that has happened, only a fool would attempt to crown her. The same could be said for Baela and Rhaena, though their claims are not as strong as her own. That left Aemond, a man, but widely hated for all he had done throughout the war. 

They are damned regardless of who is chosen, the risk of further rebellion at every turn. She does not pity the remnants of this council for the choice they must make now. The realm rests on the shoulders of the six people left in this room and that is a burden she would not want to carry.

"And you have an idea as to who the most suitable heir would be, my lord?" Lord Larys asks. Though he sits at the table, he is not truly facing it, leaning on the cane in his hands. She turns her head to look at him, his eyes wide with his question, and feels her stomach turn at the mere sight of him, their master of whisperers. 

Corlys looks toward Alicent, waiting until she gives the faintest nod of her head before speaking again. "My granddaughter, the princess, is Rhaenyra's last surviving child. Aemond is the last surviving child of King Viserys and acted as Aegon's regent for more than half his reign. The dowager and I propose that we unite house Targaryen once and for all and have the two wed to serve the realm as king and queen, like the Old King and Good Queen Alysanne. Equal in power, so as to bring all this unrest to an end."

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk

[sykoangels]

Taste

Pairing: fem!reader x spencer reid

warning: petty banter and toxic angry sex

author note: Hey everyone! I wanted to share that I'm starting a new fanfiction series inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's "Short N Sweet." This series will feature different fandoms, so there's something for everyone to enjoy! I got the idea from @thinkinonsense , so be sure to show her some love too! If you're not into Sabrina Carpenter, @thinkinonsense also created a fanfic based on Ariana Grande's "Positions" album, so feel free to check that out as well!

Next part: Please Please Please

Working at the FBI can be quite challenging, especially when you have a history with one of the top profilers in the field. Dr. Spencer Reid is like a walking supercomputer, brilliant yet endearingly dorky, which happens to be your type. There's something undeniably attractive about Spencer – perhaps it's his unassuming appearance as if he's never been in the presence of a woman, or maybe it's his intellect, which could put a dictionary to shame.

Either way, that’s what attracted you to him at first, and over time you guys developed more of a romantic relationship. But through this romantic relationship came problems and slight differences. Spencer always pushed you away no matter what it was so confusing every time something was going well. You guys would go three steps back. Unfortunately, you guys weren’t deemed to be together so breaking up an inevitable. What surprised you was that Spencer moved on fairly quickly with someone who is a carbon copy of you or at least tries to be. His new girlfriend Maxine was you in a different font. Your mannerisms were the same. The way she walked was the same compared to you the way she laughed. It was freaky. It was almost like she wanted to live in your skin like she was some creepy stalker living your life like somebody's body double.

As you started to pay closer attention, you couldn't help but notice certain things. For instance, when Maxine started accompanying Spencer to FBI events as his plus one, you began to feel uneasy. At a recent retirement party for a coworker, You spotted Maxine wearing a red mini dress with her hair slicked back, and she was even wearing a pair of heels that you had left at Spencer's house and never got back. The heels were scuffed at the bottom, indicating that they weren't new. What's more, You noticed that Spencer started repeating jokes and phrases that you had previously shared with him. These incidents made you increasingly aware of what was happening.

Anytime you mentioned this to anybody else they just called you crazy especially your coworkers like Garcia and JJ. They didn’t realize it until today since we solve the case in California Rossi was taking everybody out for drinks at the local bar down the street from the office. It was a casual thing he always did, but spencer decided to invite his girlfriend as a plus one . Nobody really cared and happily let him bring his girlfriend. It wasn’t a big deal. But you knew this was the perfect opportunity to prove a point.

The dim, flickering light of the bar's coatroom cast long, dancing shadows on the walls, creating an ambiance that was equal parts intoxicating and intense. The air was thick with the rich scent of aged whiskey and supple leather, mingling with the faint aroma of stale cigarettes. You were seated at the table next to JJ, delicately sipping on your perfectly crafted peach mojito, while discreetly observing the movements of Maxine and Spencer throughout the room. Your keen eyes didn't miss a single detail, and your focus was unwavering, like a detective on a critical case. JJ, sensing your intense scrutiny, playfully rolled her eyes before speaking. "You know, taking a picture would last longer, Y/N," she admitted while sipping her own drink. "Knowing Maxine, she would probably try to extract my DNA from the photo, clone me, and create a skin suit out of it."

"I can see where you're coming from," JJ said, her touch gentle as she gripped your shoulder. "He did move on pretty quickly, but you have to let it go. I doubt that she's trying to be you." As JJ's words sank in, a heavy sigh escaped from the depths of your mind. Perhaps JJ was right. Maybe you had been letting your imagination run wild. But as the night wore on, the unsettling feeling of Maxine trying to imitate you resurfaced. You could sense her eyes fixed on you, and every time you glanced in her direction, she would meet your gaze with either a forced smile or a look filled with spite. Finally, the team gathered for a toast after a challenging case. Rossi expressed his love for the team, emphasizing that each member was a valuable part of the cohesive unit. As Rossi finished up the toast, Maxine stood up and proposed her toast, looking directly at you as she spoke. "I just want to thank you guys for letting me join you today. I can see why every one of you is a valuable part of the team. Well, at least some of you. I also want to thank my fabulous boyfriend Spencer for being my rock, especially when things are hard, and for loving me unconditionally even though there are a lot of bitter people in this world. Spencer will always love me unconditionally no matter what comes his way."

Maxine's words cut like a knife, a calculated and direct attack that made you glance over at JJ to see if she had also caught it. The look on JJ's face confirmed that she had. It was clear that Maxine's barb was aimed at you. JJ's expression silently pleaded with you not to react, but you couldn't help it. There was no way you were going to let someone who bore a resemblance to you but was less attractive talk about you like that, especially to your face. "Yeah, and knowing Reid and his eidetic memory, I know exactly who you're thinking about when he's with you, and it's definitely not you, Maxine. No matter how hard you try to wrap your head around it, you will never be the girl he thinks about. There will always be one degree of separation between all three of us, and you know why," you said bitterly before taking the last sip of your drink and getting up to retrieve your coat from the coat room.

Spencer sat there fuming but trying his hardest not to show it because he you were right unfortunately. The rest of the team awkwardly looked at each other then back at Maxine as she walked off to the bathroom to collect herself. Meanwhile, spencer was going to go look for you. He was annoyed with your behavior tonight and he needed to set some things straight with you well at least for right now.. You leaned against the cold metal of a locker ordering a uber when you heard footsteps coming from a converse sneaker scraping against the floor, making that weird squeak sound.

"Why do you keep doing this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar area. "Why do you keep pushing Maxine? What do you want from me?" You met his gaze head-on, your lips curling into a bitter smile. "What do I want? I want you to admit that she's just a poor imitation of what we had, Spencer. I want you to stop pretending that you're happy with her." Spencer let out an exasperated grunt you could see the vein in his forehead pulse he was fuming. "Stop playing games, Y/N. You left me. You walked away, and now you can't stand the thought of someone else being with me?"

You scoff in disbelief at his claims, feeling like he's trying to manipulate you. "I didn't walk away, Spencer. You pushed me out. You couldn't handle what we had, so you replaced it with a cheap knockoff." Spencer's eyes flashed with something dangerous. Before you could react, he locked the door to the storage room and placed a large step stool against it. Then, he turned back to you, staring into your eyes with a mix of yearning and regret. "Is that what you think? That I replaced you?" He said looking at you with that puppy-like gaze he always had.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Isn't it obvious? She's everything I was to you—everything we were together. But it's not real, Spencer. It'll never be real." For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you almost palpable. Then, without warning, Spencer's lips crashed down onto yours, rough and desperate. The kiss was a mixture of heat and fury, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a hunger that left you breathless. You responded instinctively, your hands gripping his shoulders as you kissed him back with equal intensity.

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to steady his breathing. "Is this what you wanted?" he gasped, his voice raw and slightly whiny. "To see if I still want you?" You pressed yourself closer, feeling the hardness of his arousal pressing against your thigh. "No," you murmured, your voice trembling. "I wanted you to show me." Spencer a breathy groan slipped out his throat, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, lifting you effortlessly until your legs wrapped around his waist. The cold metal of the coat rack bit into your back as he pinned you against it, the sensation both startling and exhilarating

"God, you drive me insane," he muttered, his lips grazing your neck as he peppered kisses along your skin. "I can't think when you're around." You laughed softly, the sound shaky and breathless. "Good. Maybe then you'll finally understand how it felt when you shut me out." He paused, his eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability beneath the anger. "I'm sorry baby I’m so sorry," he whispered, his voice reeked of forgiveness and arousal. "I never meant to hurt you."

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. All you could focus on was the way his lips felt against your skin, the way his hands roamed over your body with a familiarity that made your heartache. Spencer's hand slid under your skirt, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties. You gasped, arching your hips into his touch, craving more. He groaned, his teeth nipping at your earlobe as he slipped a finger inside you, coaxing you open with practiced ease. "Fuck," you moaned, your head falling back against the locker as he began to move his finger in slow, deliberate strokes. "Spencer..."

"Tell me what you want, I will do it I want to make you feel good,” he demanded, his voice soft and whiny but commanding. "Tell me how much you need this." You bit your lip, resisting the urge to melt into his hands when he whines like that. "I want you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you, Spencer. Please”

He obeyed getting on his knees and slowly gliding your panties off slipping them off in one swift motion. He looked up at you with his big brown chocolate puppy dog eyes with that submissive twitch in his eyes before circling your clit and kissing it. It was so obvious he missed you, especially by the way he was eating you out. “Fuck~ you missed me badly huh?” You say gripping his greasy brown hair and pushing his face deeper into your pussy.

You can feel Spencer nodding agreeing to what you were saying he started sucking on your clit before placing two fingers inside of you stretching a lot slowly something he used to do quite often when you guys had a hard day at work to at least help put a smile on your face. Your eyes roll back as his slender fingers stretch you out. You felt yourself get close to an orgasm until Spencer stopped and looked up at you his face all wet with a pleading look on his face. He motioned you to face the wall so you obeyed his request. Spencer's hands skimmed over your thighs as he positioned himself behind you. You braced yourself against the cool metal, your breath hitching as you felt the head of his cock press against your entrance. "Ready?" he asked, his voice desperate and hoarse.

You nodded, biting your lip as you prepared for the inevitable intrusion. Spencer gripped your hips tightly, aligning himself perfectly before thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You cried out, the sensation both painful and exquisite as he filled you completely. "Fuck, you feel so good," he muttered, his voice laced with desperation. "Just how I remembered." He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one hitting your spot with perfect precision. The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed in the small space, adding to the intensity of the moment.

"Harder," you begged, your voice breaking. "Please, Spencer, harder." He obliged, picking up the pace as he slammed into you with renewed vigor. The friction between your bodies grew more intense, the heat pooling in your core as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of climax.

"Look at me baby," Spencer commanded, his voice whiny and desperate but with a hint of urgency. "Watch me fuck your brains out, baby” You turned your head, meeting his gaze over your shoulder. The sight of his face, twisted with exertion and desire, sent a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you. He reached around to pinch your nipple, twisting it between his fingers as he continued to pound into you.

"That's it, baby" he whimpers. "Take it. Take every fucking inch. You can do it” You screamed, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. Your muscles clenched around him, driving him over the edge as well. Spencer shouted your name, his release flooding you as he buried himself deep inside. Panting, he pulled out slowly, leaving you trembling against the coat rack. He leaned against you, his forehead resting on the back of your neck as he caught his breath.

"This changes nothing," he whispered, his voice raw and unsure. "We still have to deal with Maxine."

You turned to face him, your heart aching at the conflicted look in his eyes. “I don’t have to deal with anything you have to come to terms that you will never find a girl like me again Boy genius. You need figure out who you wanna be with. A botched copy or the real deal. I will see you at work tomorrow spencer and I will be expecting an answer. Just remember I leave quite the impression on men like you.

You quickly find your panties slipping them back on grabbing your coat and plants a kiss on spencer’s lips leaving a red kiss stain on his lips before walking out to catch your Uber

[vampsywrites]

Can you do one where Ao'nung is an asshole with everyone but his wife/courted. Like he'll forget to use manners, one gentle but reprimanding tug of his ear and he adds a, "please" to the end of his sentence.

I can see Ronal finding this very amusing.

my soul, you really took my soul

synopsis: moments where fishlips is soft for you <3

tags: established relationship, kissing n making out, lo'ak trying to impress fishlips, i believe in whipped! ao'nung supremacy

author's note: sorry for the late response! my laptop exploded <3

Your laughter filled the air as Ao'nung planted warm kisses across your face, his large hands cupping your face delicately.

"Hmm, Ao'nung," you purred, a soft grin adorning your lips as you inclined your head, reveling in the tender affection.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this precious moment. But even amidst the sweetness, a gentle reminder of reality pulled you back.

"There are people around," you managed to say between your laughter, fully aware of the curious eyes that might be watching your affectionate display with the chief's son.

"Yeah?" Ao'nung's mischievous smirk only grew broader, his eyes dancing with a playful glimmer as he cast aside any concerns. He pulled you in even closer, his hands resting upon your hips as he drew you into a deep kiss.

"Let them watch then," he grinned, his fangs lightly grazing against your bottom lip as he spoke.

Just as the two of you were fully immersed in this intimate moment, it was abruptly interrupted by a shout.

"Fishlips!" Lo'ak called out, brandishing a fishing net, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction.

Ao'nung cursed under his breath, distancing himself from your embrace as he directed a scowl towards Lo'ak.

"What?" he snapped, his voice tinged with impatience, yearning to be away from the unwelcome disruption.

Undeterred, Lo'ak displayed his spoil. "Look what I caught," he smirked, raising the net filled with a writhing dinicthoid for all to see.

Even from a distance, the creature's appearance was apparent, with its gargoyle-like features, beady red eyes, and razor-sharp teeth. Despite its dangerous allure, the dinicthoid held great significance to the Na'vi, and capturing one during the hunt was a testament to a warrior's bravery.

"Got it on the first try," the Omatikayan boasted, dropping the squirming fish at Ao'nung's feet with a resounding thud.

Ao'nung regarded the catch with narrowed eyes, a trace of admiration flickering beneath his facade. "Must have been a lucky shot," he grumbled, trying to downplay his surprise in front of Lo'ak.

Tutting softly, you reached out and lightly swatted the side of his head, a gesture that only you could get away with. Ao'nung felt a mixture of embarrassment and affection as he gazed at you with mild bewilderment.

"Come on," you said, your tone light. "Give him some credit. Lo'ak provided for the clan, and we should appreciate that."

Ao'nung sighed, ears flickering back. By your command, he turned back to Lo'ak and offered a begrudging nod. "Well done, forest boy," he mumbled, attempting to conceal the annoyance that gnawed at him.

Satisfied with the acknowledgment, Lo'ak swaggered away, his pride evident in every step.

"Finally," Ao'nung huffed, a mix of relief and exasperation in his voice. He turned to you, a slight smile forming at the edges of his lips, as if your presence could chase away all his frustrations. "Thought he would never leave."

"Well, now he has," you replied, a glimmer of mischief dancing in your eyes as your tail playfully trailed up his thigh. "Now, where were we?"

Ao'nung's gruff exterior melted away, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to meet you halfway. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his embrace.

As the night settled in, the village gathered around a crackling fire, its warmth and light creating a cozy atmosphere. The scent of roasted fish wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and the rhythmic beat of drums. The clan was in high spirits, celebrating the fresh snd successful hunt.

"Right here," he whispered, voice a gentle rumble as he connected his lips to yours.

You sat beside Ao'nung, eating with him from your shared plate. It was a routine you two had grown used to after so many years together. He had always appreciated your presence, finding comfort in the familiarity of your company amidst the bustling celebration. The way your laughter blended with the melodic chants and the soft murmur of conversations added to the sense of belonging and togetherness that filled the air.

"Yawne," Ao'nung called out, his attention momentarily drawn to his meal. "Pass me that sauce."

Instead of obliging immediately, you gave him a playful look, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you reached up to pinch at his ear. Ao'nung jerked back, letting out a grunt of pain.

With a knowing expression, you met his gaze. Understanding your unspoken message, Ao'nung heaved a dramatic sigh of defeat.

"Ma'yawne," he called out again, adding a hint of contrition in his voice. "Please pass me that sauce," he grunted out, emphasizing the word you oh so wished to hear.

"That's better. It doesn't hurt to be polite," you grin, fingers brushing against his momentarily as you passed the bowl, sending an electrifying warmth coursing through him.

Your smile widened, and you reached for the wooden bowl with a nod of approval.

Ao'nung grumbled good-naturedly, but his heart swelled with warmth as he wrapped a strong arm around your middle, pulling you flush against him. The little tug-of-war between you had always been a part of your relationship, and it was something he treasured deeply even if he didn't say it out loud.

Across the table, both Ronal and Tonowari watched the scene before them in amusement. No matter how many times they saw it, your interactions and dynamics were always so entertaining to them.

Ao'nung notices their states and turns to them with a irked look, brow raised, "Is there something you need?"

"No," Ronal hums, lips curling into a half-smile at her son's annoyed glower, "We are just glad someone has finally managed to tame you."

[brummiereader]

Binding Love (Part Seven Final Chapter/ Dark!Tommy)

Summary: Your husband has found you. And after a morning of confrontations, of mixed reactions, of tangled emotions, you are left to make a choice that will seal your fate forever. Will you forever be bound to your husband? Or will your predicted end, spoken through the words of the old lady, be your final step into freedom?

Warnings: Dark!Tommy, language, violence, psychological mind games, controlling behaviour, toxic relationship, manipulative behaviour, psychological abuse, mutual pining, angst, murder, suicidal thoughts, smut.

Word Count: 4K

Authors Note: The last part of this chapter picks up from the beginning scene of this series.

[Masterlist] [Previous Part] [Trailer]

A day full of chores wasn't what you envisioned for your morning when you woke up at the crack of dawn the next day and forgoed your mandatory English brew for the pile of mounting laundry stacked in a wicker basket at the foot of your bed.

But yet here you were, freshly laundered sheets blooming into the crisp morning air one by one as you shook the creases from their crinkled corners before hanging them out on the washing line in the garden of your quaint cottage.

A therapeutic cleansing, a dance of repetitive movements until you dulled out the uneasy thoughts that chased you throughout the day if left to dwell on them. Clean home, clean mind. Or so you thought.

"Elsie, shoes off!" you broke the peaceful silence of red robins chirping above, of your wellies crunching along the frosty grass with each shuffling foot down the patchwork of laundry as your eyes darted to your daughter climbing the bricked steps to the kitchen door.

" Yes, mummy!" she called back to your rolling eyes, watching her discarded boots tumble down the concrete stairs as she raced to the bottle of milk delivered to your doorstep for the well-deserved bowl of porridge she was keen to devour after a tiring morning of shutting doors and removing shoes.

Running your hands along the freshly hung sheets with each step back to your home, you came to a stop when an unsightly bobble of lint caught your eye on the pristine sheet of linen you had spent the early hours of the day scrubbing.

" I think not" your brow furrowed, flicking the ball of fluff from your bed throw when the creak of the garden gate swinging open pricked your ears.

Brow scrunched, you stepped back from the emerging shadow looming behind the draped linen as you slowly walked along the trail of mismatched colours obscuring your view until a gap between your perfectly placed laundry appeared.

Fingers pulling back the curtain of washing, the rusty gate at the bottom of your garden slowly began to appear as your startled heart rapidly began to thud against its bony cage.

"Fuck..." a strained chuckle and hand to your chest had you feeling foolish for letting your fragile nerves trick you into believing the looming hour of your discovery had met its ticking end as you watched the rickety wooden frame scuff against its lock with every gust of wind as the heavens parted, illuminating your picturesque garden and drying laundry once again.

" Elsie, how many times have I told you? Shut the gate, shut the doors" you marched towards the weathered fence with a heavy sigh as you rattled with the rusty lock until your enthusiastic manhandling had it breaking off into your hand. " Shit"

" Mummy, she found me! She came all this way!" your daughter screeched with excitement, waving her hand and the sloshing bottle of freshly churned milk back and forth on the kitchen floor as your focus and squinting eyes honed in on the weathered hinge in your hand.

" She was right there, on the doorstep!" She pointed through the zigzag of hallways to your front door with a dimpled smile as you stayed enthralled by the task in hand.

"Ok, darling " you absently replied, mumbling a string of insults at the fiddly bracket and screws in your hand.

" How are you misses pony? Did you have a safe journey? You've traveled such a long way for someone so little" she trotted to her bedroom, loved toy with a new mane of locks and coat of paint clutched in her hand. It's mysterious way back to her left to her young imagination.

" There" you gave the aged gate a firm shake before examining the damage to the tips of your brittle nails before plodding back to your home, weaved basket in hand in search of the abandoned pair of boots belonging to your daughter.

With a knitted a brow you came to a stop at the top of the slabbed steps, eyes darting down to the neatly arranged pair of muddy boots sitting on the doorstep and not tossed into the unkempt grass you saw them launched into moments before.

Did she pick them up?, a passing thought left you glaring down at them with a frown as you shook off your shoes, numb toes dipping into a puddle of milk on the kitchen tiles as the letter box began to rattle.

" Elsie!" you huffed, pulling off your soggy socks as you padded to your front door. Too distracted, too frazzled to notice the smell of tobacco smoke weaving its way from room to room.

" Hello Miss, got your newspaper" Harry, the cherry-cheeked paperboy pulled the ragged corners of your paper from the letter box as his eyes darted behind you in search of your daughter.

" Thank you, Harry" you smiled, turning the pages as the chatty four-foot boy began to inundate you on his mornings observations and dislike of his mum's cooking.

" Is that your posh car down the road?" the muddy kneed seven-year-old nodded to the end of the lane as your fingers flicked from page to page with a shake of your head, eyes consumed by the latest goings-on in the world.

" My dad's got an old banger, puts sawdust in its engine.." he continued as he adjusted the heavy bag of deliveries on his shoulder as your eyes scanned down the freshly printed page.

" I've only got five more houses to do, and me mams made bread and butter pudding for me for when I get back. I hate it miss, it tastes like soggy..." he continued his enthusiastic conversation when your darting eyes caught the flashing headline printed in block on the next page.

Notorious Peaky Blinders boss released from Winston Green prison due to insufficient evidence related to the missing person cases that left the residence of Birmingham with conspiracy theories of their own, you read, re-read and read again until your eyes strained, until your thundering heart left a deafening whistle ringing in your ears.

" Can Elsie come out and play?" young Harry looked up at the thousand-mile stare glaring past him. "Miss?"

"Bye mummy!" your daughter scooted past you, knocking your shaky body into the frame of the door upon hearing her friend as she looped her knitted scarf around her neck, eager to join Harry on the rest of his round.

" Elsie...Elsie wait" you grabbed hold of her arm, swallowing back the grating dryness in your throat, the welling tears of fear in your eyes.

" Please?" she pouted up at you as you knelt down to her small frame, pulling the fronts of her coat around her knitted scarf with trembling fingers as your eyes darted to the small cobbled lane in front of your house.

They wouldn't just let him roam freely, they had men following him. You were safe. Safe, you convinced yourself as you scanned the farmers' pastures a short walk from your cottage. Eyes darting to every tree, every bale of hay that sat lonely in the empty field. You were safe.

" Be...be careful" you apprehensively let her go with brimming eyes of worry, watching her skipping steps along the stoned path as you battled with the overbearing, over-consuming need to pull her back into the house and bunker down.

" Love you, mummy!" she shouted from the gate with a mittened hand before her brunette locks danced around the corner out of sight.

" Love you..." you mouthed back, shaky fingers pressing against your lips as you backed your stiffened legs into the warmth of your home, your thoughts harassing you with the sentiments you felt the previous day and the dread that now shrouded them.

How foolish you had been to think your husband would forgive and forget as you were so eager to do just yesterday. For Tommy never forgot, and never forgave.

With each a makeshift boat in stick form in their hands, Harry the paperboy and your daughter launched their battleships into the flowing stream, running along beside them with giggles and rowdy words of encouragement for theirs to be the winning logged boat when the clumsy footing of your six-year-old had her stumbling into a burly obstacle of human form, puffing on a cigar from the corner of his mouth.

" Johnny!"

Back pressed up against the door, you battled to steady the heavy breaths of panic rising from your chest as you clutched the crinkling newspaper between your fingers.

You were safe. You and Elsie were safe, you closed your eyes, shutting out the nagging feelings of fear that had overtaken every trembling limb of your body before your thumbling hands jostled with the brassy lock of the door.

With determination to battle through the shaky end to your morning, you padded through the halls of your home, tossing the news of Tommy's release into the bin for the pilling sink of dishes waiting for you in the kitchen.

Once these were finished, you'd go get Elsie. You'd call the detective, you told yourself, hands deep in the soapy water filled with cutlery as your eyes darted to and from the back door and the view of your garden from the kitchen window.

"Fuck" you surrendered to your nerves as your plodding feet and narrowing eyes approached the silver key, wiping the frothy dish soap from your hands on the silky fabric of your dressing gown before turning the intricate lock with a click.

Safe within the four walls of your home, every shut door, every secure entrance had you confident of your safety as you settled the small lock to your home on the wooden kitchen worktop beside you.

This last pan, then you'll go get her, you decided to leave the last of your chores and respond to your motherly need to have your child in eyesight, in earshot of you as you scrubbed with a knitted brow at the charred remains of last night's dinner embedded into your stove pot.

Frothy bubbles swishing back and forth in the murky water, you became enthralled with the task in hand, unbeknownst of the steady footsteps approaching you until you felt a pair of leather gloves slip around the curves of your waist, settling on your stomach.

" Hello, darling" the familiar sound of a gravelly voice breathed against your ear, chiseled jaw settling against your cheek as your eyes darted up to the weathered window of your kitchen to see your husband stood behind you, piercing stare and clutched hands holding your every move, every reaction in place.

"Tomm..." your mumbling voice, frozen with fear caught in your throat as you dropped the pan in your hand with a clanging thud against the tin sink.

" Shh" he hushed your rapid breaths, gloves trailing up your arms to your heaving shoulders, to the velvety skin of your neck and the chain looped around it.

" No longer a noose, then?" his brow cocked with surprise to see the circulaire band resting against your chest as he pulled the necklace into his hand, thumb brushing over the promised vows that bound you together before letting it slip back between the curves of your breasts, back to your heart.

"I...I" your eyes welled with tears, pools of fear blurring out the image of your husband in the reflection of the glass as his ghosting lips peppered kisses along your neck, as the feeling of his gun, nestled in his holster, digged into your back as he pushed his body against yours.

Hands clutched on the sink's edge, you watched your husband's roaming hands and lazy eyes graze over your body. Starved of your touch, of the warmth of your body he'd craved in the nights he'd spent in his cell as you dipped your fingers into the greying water.

" You've upset me, Y/N" he sighed heavily into your ear, fiery breath prickling down your neck as you mumbled your desperate apologies, fingers silently wading through the water for something, anything to defend yourself when he finally snapped out of the comfort he sought from you.

" But I'm an understanding man. And it's dawned on me that I didn't protect you enough. Didn't keep you away from that bastard and his lies. But you don't have to worry about him now, love" your eyes widened at his murderous admission, your lifeline disposed of by the hands of your vengeful husband.

" I'd never hurt you, Y/N" you felt his grasp on you tighten, urging you to agree to his delusions that precariously tethered on the edge of insanity as your fingers curled around the handle of a knife at the bottom of the sink.

"I know " you pushed through the unbearable fear you felt as your grasp tightened around your only means to defend yourself from your husband's crazed mind when Tommy's eyes flew open, hand plunging into the water to grab hold of yours.

" Ah, ah, ah. I wouldn't if I were you, darling" he squeezed his fingers around your hand, forcing you to release the knife with a crushing grip.

Spinning you around to face him, Tommy pushed the curve of your back into the worktop with a grunting slam. Legs splayed, looming frame pushed against yours in a suffocating hold as the snap of his leather gloves curled around your face, grabbing your chin.

" I've been reasonable enough, forgiving enough. But you took it too far. You took my daughter, Y/N" Tommy seethed through gritted teeth at your daring actions, succumbing to the pent-up anger of you abandoning him.

" You left me and took my fucking daughter!" his thunderous voice bellowed in your face, strained veins tunneling down his neck as his fingers digged into the fleshy pads of your cheeks.

" You scared me, Tommy. Please.. you're scaring me" stuttering cries hysterically wailed from your lips as your eyes shut out the frightening image of your husband's anger piercing into you.

" Scaring you?" Tommy's brows knitted together with confusion as all logical reasoning as to what had your trembling in fear escaped him. Convinced he only had your best interests at heart.

" Tom" your eyes pleaded with him, searching for the man you had married as you refreshed his ignorance with the atrocities he had committed. " The bodies, the murders..."

" Darling, I was just keeping you safe" your reasoning with his paranoia took its expected fall as Tommy shuffled the weight of his body from one foot to the other with a heavy sigh of bewilderment.

" I know and...and you did. You did" you entered his state of mind if only to delay the grimacing effects of his thunderous voices return as your shaky fingers drifted to ground him with your gentle touch.

" I missed you" his voice softened, grip loosening to caress the redness from your cheek as the pendulum of his yo-yo demeanor swung back and forth without warning.

" I missed you too" you echoed the weeks' worth of foolish sentiments you had felt for him through sobs. The empty void your escape had left now filled once again with a twisted flurry of emotions.

" Come back to me, Tommy" you wept for the man that would never return through strangled cries as he pressed his cheek into the warmth of your touch.

" I'm here, sweetheart" he cupped your face, thumbs brushing your grieving tears for his former self from your eyes as he pressed his head to yours.

" I love you, Y/N. Let me show you how much I love you" his lips ghosted against your mouth, his feelings of anger momentarily dulled by his distorted understanding of your weeping admissions.

" Tommy, Elsie...Elsie will be home soon" your scrambling hands pushed his need to connect with you away, to have you beneath him to dull the intrusive thoughts that plagued you, he couldn't control.

" Let's go upstairs" he ignored you as his pent-up eagerness continued with the unbuckling of his belt, with groans of want moaning against your tongue.

" Elsie...Tom" a dazed, breathy sigh left your drying throat as he pushed your knickers to the side, his throbbing desire shielded by the scuffling layers of his heavy coat as he hurried to pull himself free.

" Fuck sweetheart...you like that, eh?" you fell forward onto his shoulder as he ran his leathered finger across your opening, your head whirling in a battle of emotions against his strong frame as you desperately tried to pull yourself from his hold on you.

Was this what you had belittled yourself to? Giving into the crumbs of his gentler side, of his passionate side free from the rage bubbling within him? So weak, so desperate, you stifled the cries mounting in your chest as the re-emerging sounds of your husband's moans in your ear, to the feeling of him lining himself up against you had you hurtling back into the moment.

" Tommy, stop!" you suddenly pulled yourself out of the intensity of his touch with a shaky breath, leaving him with grinding teeth as he buckled his straining cock back into his briefs.

" Elsie will be back soon" you firmly stated, distancing yourself from his turning body as he slid the leather strap into the loop of his belt with a shake of his head.

" She won't" Tommy adjusted the lapels of his jacket, shoulders rolling off the unsatisfied urge still pressed against his trousers.

" What...where is she, Tommy? Tommy, where is my daughter?" your eyes widened, trembling hands frantically searching behind you for something to lean your slumping body against as panic hurtled towards you.

" You'll never take her from me like that again, Y/N. You'll never leave me again" he watched your frantic eyes scan the room for the misplaced key as your desperations rattled against its handle.

"Looking for this?" he shot you a smirk of amusement as his gloved finger pulled the silver key with a scrape along the kitchen worktop into his palm.

" Darling..." he sent you a toying smile, pulling the plug from the sink until the frothy soap slipped down the drain with the clanging sound of the key against the pipes following it. "...you're not going anywhere"

With a scream hurled his way, you pushed a wooden chair in his path as he strode with long steps towards you.

"Now, Y/N" he warned you with a pointed finger in your fleeing direction over the turned furniture barricading him from you as you scrambled for the door, when your shaky body and a twist of your misplaced foot had you collapsing forward with a sharp blow to your head on the leg of a chair as your body hit the tiled flooring.

" Shit" Tommy waded through the path of wood to get to you as your mumbling voice mouthed his name, eyes drifting in and out of a hazy darkness.

"Come on sweetheart, up you get" Tommy hauled you up into his body, eyes darting with a wincing concern at the bloody cut to your head trickling down your cheek as he rose to his feet with your limp body in his arms for the front door.

"We're going for a little drive"

" Y/N!" Tommy's voice bellowed after you through the thick bushy hedgerow of the steep coastal path as your shoeless feet scraped along the rocky lane with each precariously placed foot.

" Fuck..." you quietly winced through gritted teeth as you slid down the thawny hill to the footpath below, dangerously close to the cliff's edge and thrashing waves of the English channel.

Bloody gash to your head, bloody feet, bloody hands, bloody slip, you cowered your bloody trembling body behind a boulder of chalky limestone as your grunting husband scooted down the hillside after you.

" Enough, Y/N" he rested the palms of his hands on his knees, body hunched over for a breather to fill his strained lungs.

" Come on, let's go home. I want us to get a head start before rush hour hits" his unfazed demeanour, his careless attitude to the day's events and his frightening role in them had him straightening his cracking back like one would after a long nap as his eyes darted to the rocky boulder he knew you were concealed behind.

" Where's Elsie, Tommy? your trembling hand held you steady against the stoney wall separating you as your eyes darted around for a means of escape.

" Home. Safe and sound waiting for her parents to get back, and tuck her into bed" he pulled a cigarette from his pocket, squinting eyes scanning the horizon and the French cliffs of Calais in the distance.

" You've had your little tantrum, now come on" he flicked the aspen match over the rocky edge with a disgruntled huff. " Y/N?"

" I don't believe you" you swallowed back the grating dryness in your throat, desperate to quench your thirst from the hours of being confined in the boot of Tommy's car as you pushed your foot along the gritted path, ears honing in on the sound of the pebbles descending down the cliffs edge.

" She's my child. And you're my wife. I'd never hurt either if you, you know that" a heavy sigh with a cloud of smoke left his throat as he pinched the band of stress, of self inflicted turmoil he had created from his brow.

For as deranged as his behaviour had been, as twisted as his agenda had become, you and Elsie were his reason to keep going, to stay alive.

Was that where his fears came from? Was that why he had let the call of his paranoia overtake him? He was scared of losing the two things in his life worth living for?

" Y/N this can go one of two ways, love. You either come with me freely or I take you by force. But you won't be leaving here without me" he calmly gave you your options as he threw his burnt cigarette to his feet.

" And if I do come with you, then what?" you appeared from behind the large boulder, backs of your feet slowly walking you to the cliffs edge and the crashing waves battering against the mountain of rocks below you.

" We go home, to be a famil..." his words petered out as his narrowing eyes darted behind you at the deathly step you were mere inches away from making.

" Darling, come away from the edge" his panicked eyes widened, ushering you back to him, back to safety with a hand stretched out as he slowly inched himself closer to you.

" Will you stop?" your heels shuffled back, curling around the rocky edge as your husband's clenching jaw and bulging eyes watched every miniscule move in silence. Words stolen from him as the pumping blood in his veins rushed to his ears with a deafening whistle. " Tommy, will you stop?"

" Y/N, please. Don't do this to me. Don't let her be right" his chest heaved with a gut-wrenching fear that the old lady's vapid words had met their predicted end.

" Will you stop, Tommy?!" you screamed at him, the force of your demanding question causing you to almost lose your footing entirely. A stomach flipping moment that had your husband match the velocity of your voice in a bellowing panic of honesty.

" No! I will not stop! You're my wife, Y/N! I will never stop trying to keep you safe! I will never, fucking, let you go! Do you hear me?!" his strained voice and welling eyes, encompassed his reddening face of desperation as he relented to his tamed vulnerabilities, whispering one last plea for you to step away. "Baby, please..."

" In the bleak mid-winter" you closed your fluttering lashes as you lifted you arms to a gust of wind swirling by, letting it take you body over the cliffs edge with a breath of relief.

" Y/N!!" your husband screamed for you as he lunged forward to the rocky hillside, his heart ripping from his chest in a searing pain no bullet, no knife to his flesh could ever inflict on him as his body hit the gritted ground.

Face covered with stoney pebbles, Tommy pulled his fallen body from the floor in a hazy swaying of shaky limbs as a feeling of nothingness of hopelessness tore his heart in two.

" Darling..." he closed his eyes, tips of his feet on the rocky edge as he answered deaths call for him to follow you over into the salty water when his inching boots sent a tumbling of small rocks over the cliffs edge.

Eyes darting down to the echoing sounds of them bouncing off a stoney path, Tommy pushed another heap of grit over the edge when his widening eyes had him crouching down to the rocky hillside.

"Fuck! FUCK!!" a wail of realisation left his collapsing lungs as his bellowing voice traveled across the rippling waves, a sickly feeling plummeting to his stomach at the sight of your bloody footprints fleeing along the small ridge below.

You had tricked him. Played your winning move in his game of control as his observations of you lapsed while you plotted your perfectly timed fall.

"Huh" he sniffed back the foolishness he felt, the tears pooled in his lashes as his eyes scanned the sandy beach below until they landed on you, locks of hair blowing in the sea salt air and your sentiments for him made known with a middle finger aimed up at him.

" Love you too, darling" he quietly mouthed through the smile curling on the corners of his lips as the setting sun glistened against the blues of his eyes, glowing rays of orange warming his skin.

Jumping down to the small path below, a youthful gleem of rebirth shone behind you husband's eyes as he hunted you down along the sandy dooms. A picturesque sight to any bystander watching the playful display of a married couple's chase along the sandy beaches of England's shores. But the reality of what was unfolding through the misinterpreted screams of joy, the rapidly approaching feet and shouting warnings of your husband was a reality, a life far darker than anyone could imagine. A life of obsessiveness, of codependency, of control, of an unbreakable...binding love.

The end.

Thank you to everyone that commented, reblogged and liked this series. Your interactions have helped me no end. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the ending in the comments below! Thank you again ❤️.

Brummie xxx

Tag list: @peakyswritings @justrainandcoffee @garrison-girl-08 @meadows5 @lavender-haze-01

@strangeobsessed @ttae-yong @lemonwithstupidity @lindsay00000 @mischievouslittlecreature

@jbrownta @lau219 @whereismymindnow @honeymoon8 @bruhidkjustwannaread @strrvnge

@paintedinpinks @edgyficuselastica @strangeions @youngbananamilkshake

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗜𝗞𝗧𝗢𝗞 𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: 4 times that Y/N and Chris made a couple's trend on tiktok.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Since the pandemic, tiktok has become one of the most used social media in the whole world, thousands of people download it every day and thousands more create content daily or, sometimes, just post a video that explodes in views, many of them starting a career with it, or creating a hobby from it.

And that's what happened in Y/N's life. She was still finishing high school when she posted her first video on the app, not expecting it to get more than 10 likes.

She was at the triplets' house, still in Boston, watching a movie with her boyfriend, when that same video exploded, reaching more than 300 thousand views and 150 thousand likes.

So, while Matt, Nick, and Chris were starting their careers on their new YouTube channel, Y/N was starting hers on TikTok.

Fans loved the fact that Chris's girlfriend had a TikTok account and posted regularly, after all, she lived with him in LA, which meant that the fandom had content of her and him together almost weekly.

Y/N was the typical influencer who participated in all the trends that interested her, from dancing or singing famous songs to recording herself cooking different recipes.

But the ones she loved most were the couple trends, and it was nothing that a few minutes of begging Chris to do them with her couldn't convince him.

Secretly, the boy loved making that mini videos for TikTok with Y/N; he adored showing that he was hers, how much he loved her, and how obsessed he was with her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

1.

Chris positioned Y/N's phone on top of his computer desk, the device resting on his laptop with the screen facing forward, the TikTok camera already open, and with the audio already selected.

The boy took his Prada wallet from the back pocket of his baggy jeans, leaving it ready in his hand, hiding it behind his back.

His blue eyes glanced briefly at Y/N, who was on his right side and out of the camera's frame, a smile on her face as she admired him, waiting for the recording to begin.

He extended his right arm, clicking the red button in the bottom center of the screen. The melody of the chorus of Cupid's Chokehold / Breakfast in America by Gym Glass Heroes began to play.

"Everywhere I go I keep her picture in my wallet like"

Chris removed his hand that was hidden behind his back, showing the black wallet and opening it, holding it on the left side so that the right side was exposed to the camera, the transparent plastic holding a small picture of Y/N. His face appeared on the right side of the screen, a sideways smile decorating his face.

The girl was lying on Chris's chest in the picture, probably in their bed, the room was dark and the camera's flash completely illuminated her face, a big smile adorned her features along with her closed eyes.

Chris brought his wallet closer to the phone's front camera, holding it there for a few seconds before lifting it slowly and lowering it quickly while moving slightly to the right side.

"Take a look at my girlfriend"

Y/N's figure appeared where the wallet was, wearing a pink set from Fresh Love, a soft smile on her face as her eyes focused on Chris, a passionate glow in them.

"She's the only one I got (ba-ba-da-da)"

Chris returned the smile, placing his wallet on the desk and pulling his girlfriend's body against his, filling her face and neck with kisses. Y/N, throwing her head back with her mouth open in silent laughter, was the last image the camera captured before the tiktok ended.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2.

Y/N docked her phone in the phone holder attached to the dashboard of the triplets' car, which she asked Matt to borrow the keys so she could go out to lunch with Chris.

She lowered the device's screen brightness, leaving it at minimum so that Chris wouldn't see the TikTok camera opened. Her eyes quickly went to her boyfriend next to her, seeing him scrolling through his own cell, probably looking for a nice restaurant for them to eat at, as Y/N had asked him to do.

She quickly clicked the red record button at the bottom of the screen, smiling briefly at it, an amused gleam in her eyes.

"There's this Osteria Mozza that looks cool. It's Italian, just how you like it." Chris commented, his eyes still focused on his own phone screen as he read the restaurant's reviews.

"Great, I feel like eating pasta." Y/N nodded quickly. "Let me just touch up my lip gloss real quick." She asked, turning her body sideways and reaching over to the seat where Nick normally sits, grabbing her purse.

She pulled it forward, slamming the side of it against the back of Chris' head, before placing it on her lap.

"Ouch, fuck! What was that for?" Chris's voice was high pitched due to the surprise of the impact, his cap almost falling off his head as his right hand left his phone and went to his hair, fixing the piece there while he looked exasperatedly at his girlfriend, his blue eyes wide.

The girl pressed her lips together as she tried to hold back her laughter, clearing her throat momentarily. She opened her purse and took out her Dior lip gloss.

"I'm sorry, baby. I didn't even notice. Are you okay?" Y/N glanced at him quickly, her brow furrowed in false concern.

"Yes, just be careful next time." Chris asked, removing his hand from his cap before turning his attention back to his phone.

Y/N closed the zipper after reapplying her lip gloss, anticipating her boyfriend's final reaction before turning her body again, raising her arm and taking the purse to the backseat, slamming it into Chris again, this time hitting his nose.

"Babe! What the fuck?" He frowned, turning abruptly to her as he brought his hand up to his nose, rubbing the area. "What the hell are you doing?"

A sound of laughter escaped Y/N's throat, her mouth falling open as a laugh escaped freely, her head falling back. Chris watched her as if she were crazy, the beginning of a smile appearing on his lips, his blue eyes running over her expressions.

"I'm sorry baby, it was for a tiktok. You're so funny." She said amidst laughter, pointing to her phone that was still recording them.

Chris rolled his eyes, a big smile taking over his features as his hand reached for the device. He widened his eyes at the camera playfully before clicking the red button again, stopping the recording.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3.

Y/N took advantage of the fact that Chris was still brushing his teeth in the bathroom of their bedroom to position her phone on the nightstand on her side of the bed, the front camera capturing an entire side of the room.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to contain her laughter in anticipation as she grabbed her pillow and blanket from the bed, gathering them both under her arm.

"Chris, I'm going to sleep on the couch tonight." Y/N spoke out loud, intending for the boy to hear her.

And he did, lifting his head abruptly and turning his body completely towards her, his toothbrush in hand and toothpaste on his lips.

"What?" His voice was muffled by his full mouth, his eyes wide as he watched her in surprise.

"I'm going to sleep on the couch today." She repeated, looking directly at him this time, making sure her body wasn't in full view of the camera or cutting into Chris's image.

"What? Why?" Chris asked again, a thread of sadness crossing his blue eyes as his brow furrowed, his mind working hard to try to understand what he had done wrong. A pain took over Y/N's heart, wanting to give up on the idea right then and there.

"I'm going to sleep in the living room, on the couch." Y/N spoke one last time, turning around and walking towards the bedroom door, in order to open it, but her action was stopped by the brunette, who spat the paste in his mouth into the sink and dropped the brush, running towards the girl.

"Wait, you sleep on the bed, and I sleep on the floor above a blanket or something, and tomorrow morning, we'll talk about it. Just don't let me sleep alone." He asked in a desperate tone, taking her arm and pulling her close, wanting to hug her and apologize for whatever he had done, even without knowing what it was.

Y/N looked into Chris' eyes, her own wide in surprise. She didn't expect that.

"Oh my baby, no! It's a prank, just a tiktok trend." The girl explained quickly, pointing briefly to the phone still recording before pulling Chris into her arms, feeling her eyes filling with tears and her heart warming with love.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4.

"Nick, this is not that difficult. They only have two types: pink and purple, I want the pink one! Are you dumb?" Chris was talking loudly, his phone pressed on his ear as he was on a call with his brother, having asked Nick to buy a specific candy he knew Y/N liked on his quick trip to Target.

Y/N walked towards him with her own phone in hand already recording, the rear camera facing Chris, who was sitting on their bed with his back against the headboard, the blanket covering half of his body as the sound of a random series came out of the television.

The girl was only wearing small cycling black shorts and a Chris t-shirt that was huge on her body, covering her bra-free boobs.

She walked closer as she watched her boyfriend fight with his brother, a look of boredom in his eyes that quickly met hers, a small smile appearing on his face as he sent her a wink.

Y/N smiled back before stopping her steps, her free hand going to the hem of her - his - t-shirt and pulling it up a second later, exposing her boobs to Chris.

His blue eyes widened in a matter of seconds, his mouth opening into a perfect O. Nick's voice sounded shouting from the other side, demanding that Chris responded, but to his ears, everything seemed to have gone silent.

"Nick, buy anything, you name it. I need to take care of one thing right now, I mean, two." The brunette spoke weakly into his phone, lowering the device and clicking the red button to hang up the call without even looking at it, completely ignoring Nick's voice on the other end.

The girl let out a laugh, the image of Chris standing up abruptly and pulling Y/N against his body being the last thing captured on camera, before the tiktok ended.

[fallenmonsters]

red flags.

summary ➳ you’re way worse than yeonjin personality-wise, but jaejun couldn’t care less when you treat him better than she ever did, even when you’re also married and may or may not just be using him.

pairings ➳ jeon jaejun x male reader

warnings ➳ nsfw content, foul language, top!reader, bottom!jaejun, probably ooc jaejun, infidelity, mafia!toxic!reader, consumption of nicotine and alcohol, marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex, rough couch sex, pet names, choking, overstimulation, dacryphilia, shotgunning, cock warming, sir kink, jealousy, brief burn kink, mentions of murder, manipulation

author’s note ➳ toxic reader >>>>>> toxic characters

MINORS DNI !!

The scent of sex and alcohol combines together in the dimly lit room, orange hues casting shadows on furnitures as the sound of gasps and whimpers fill the arousing atmosphere. Two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey as expensive as diamonds laid on the table, now entirely ignored by the sole persons who had previously been drinking it to no end. Photographs, which seems to have been taken in secret, scattered alongside them in random orders; one in particular captured Park Yeonjin entering Siesta Luxury Shop.

“Stay still, ‘jun. Wouldn’t want me to get more angry, do you?” You ordered, lowly and warningly, gripping the trembling man’s hips with one hand and narrowing your eyes.

Jaejun shakes, gasping when you forced him to properly sit on your lap, prepped hole stretched to the brim and completely filled by your thick and long cock. He leans back on your chest and holds both of your thighs in a death grip, biting his lower lip to contain himself from moving. You hum quietly in a pleased manner against his ear that had him nearly squirming, throwing his head back to rest it on your shoulder and revealing the hickeys littered around his neck.

Your hand that was previously on his hip moves up to trail your fingers against the purple bruises and love bites you created yourself, amusement glinting in your eyes when he shivered. “You look really pretty all marked up like this. Perhaps, you could go out with your little friends sometime with all these visible so they’ll know just who exactly you fuck behind their backs.” The humiliation in your tone makes Jaejun flush as a quiet whimper escapes his throat, trying to hide his red face by burying it on the crook of your neck. The lack of his usual arrogance and cockiness gives you a surge of pride and ego, striking you further with arousal and lust.

Jeon Jaejun was by all means not a man without power. He’s always got the upper hand, whether in business or personal matters, and didn’t like having no control over the people or situation itself. He’s been an influential figure since he was young, growing up with golden spoon being fed to him by his wealthy parents who couldn’t be bothered to teach him basic human decency, which build him up to look down upon those who didn’t get a luxury to be like him. Inevitably, it built an excessive belief within himself that there’s just no one more superior and powerful, that he’d always be on top controlling and ordering people around.

But then, you came in and shattered everything he believed in with just few flicks of your hand.

Park Yeonjin’s older brother who’s got a long history of rivalry with Yeonjin herself, everyone was shocked to find out your influence and power exceeded that of theirs with many successful businesses and connections that goes beyond anyone’s imagination, grinning tauntingly at your own sister and proudly mocking her lack of capabilities in building things for herself without your mother’s help. You were quite the mysterious man, a conventionally attractive individual that had respectful manners and sultry eyes which had an unknown glint that pulls people in. A certain confidence to the way you present yourself, cool and collected demeanour surrounding your every being with pride and ego evident but not too much to appear narcissistic. You give off a high-class, elegant, well-mannered, intimidating wealthy man at first glance with multiple tattoos inked to your skin, several piercings, and a scent of expensive woody cologne mixed with slightest hint of cigarettes.

You’re the type of person who everyone will know at first glance that held a lot of power more than anyone could possibly imagine, your atmosphere giving off a silent warning to those who are foolish enough to even consider you as an enemy. There’s a certain look in your eyes that just intimidates people to submit to your doings, forcibly putting them in their places — below you, that is — and making them stay there regardless of status. You held the lives of those around you in the palm of your hand from how much power you had on society. Terrifyingly, you had done it all by yourself without help from Hong Yeong-ae, which spoke volumes of your capabilities and accomplishments.

It’s simply impossible to have control over you, Jaejun learned it the hard way.

Besides, how could he take it back when it feels utterly good being claimed and controlled by you?

“I— fuck, sir—” Jaejun cursed, feeling desperate for friction when staying still became harder as time pass by. He tilts his head sideways with a moan when you nibble on his jaw, kissing sweetly on the spot before biting down.

“It’s only been fifteen minutes, ‘jun. Quit it.” You mutter against his ear, bringing your hand to press on his stomach that had him twitching and squeezing around you. “Feel that? Got my cock nice and warm in there, doin’ such a good job of it.” You chuckled under your breath and brought a cigarette to your lips, inhaling the intoxicating nicotine.

Tears brim in Jaejun’s eyes due to desperation, eagerly accepting the smoke exhaled from your mouth when you leaned in and closing the distance to taste your lips. You quickly slipped your tongue in his mouth, exploring and rubbing his tongue with yours, making his head cloud with pleasure. He was forced to break the kiss when you suddenly thrusted your hips up and pulled a loud moan out of him, your name tumbling down from his mouth.

“shit, fuck— please,” He pleaded quietly and arched his back to cause a little friction.

You teasingly smirk at him, “I don’t know, love. Should I really fuck you? You’ve already fucked someone else this morning, after all.” Pressing kisses on his bare neck and shoulder, you held him down with one hand to keep him from fucking himself.

Jaejun shakes his head rapidly, “Didn’t— I didn’t even fuckin’ enjoyed it, fuck! Just please please, let me have it, sir.”

You let out a low chuckle, uncaring of his growing urge to pleasure himself, too comfortable with the warmth surrounding your cock. “Why fuck someone when you don’t even enjoy it, then? You and I both know how much you love getting your guts rearranged like a fuckin’ bitch by me.” You brought the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled the smoke, holding it in your lungs for a second before releasing it, the routine feeling somewhat therapeutic.

The male gritted his teeth and grasped your left hand in his shaking one to bite on the ring finger as a slightest bit of rebellion, trying his best to shoot you a glare. “F-fucking asshole… ngh! M’gonna fuckin’ ask you the same.”

There’s jealousy evident in his tone and you glanced down at your finger that he bit, only then remembering the silver wedding ring graciously wrapped around it. “Ahh, almost forgot. Haven’t seen her for a long time, do you think she misses me?” Jaejun bites back a retort at your amused face, knowing you were only saying it to get a rise out of him, yet he still can’t help the prickle of pain that struck his heart and squeezed his chest.

You’re such a fucking asshole, even more than him, and he hated it. But he could never bring himself to despise you no matter what, not when you hold him so dearly every-time you see each other, as if you were married to him.

Your amused expression falls when he doesn’t answer and you thrust your hip up roughly, pulling a startled moan out of him as you grip his jaw in a slightly painful way. “You’re in no place to ignore me, Jaejun. You’re the one that started this in the first place, calling my sister over to your shop when I told you not to. What’s wrong with me talking a little about my wife?”

The displeasure in your eyes make chills run up his spine and causes several apologies to spill from his lips, not wanting to disappoint you more and end up being thrown away for your trophy wife just because he failed to be good. He knew there’s no one better than him out there, but you’re always capable of throwing him away to find someone else that suits your taste more. After all, you only wanted him in the first place because he belonged to your despicable little sister. Even he was not special in your eyes.

Your eyes soften at the small panic in his apologetic voice, sliding your hand up to rest your palm on his cheek instead and rolling your hips to stimulate his aching cunt. Jaejun’s apologies quiet down, whimpering and moaning softly at the pleasure you were finally giving him.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, baby. m’just pissed it looks like you don’t know you belong to me now.” You nipped at his shoulder before harshly biting down, making Jaejun groan and jerk in pain. You licked the blood that seeped out, your cock twitching inside him at the taste. “You’re already mine, ‘jun. Not Yeonjin’s, and definitely not Hyejeong’s.”

Jaejun trembled at the possessiveness in your tone, whining desperately as his warm hole clamps down on your cock in arousal. It turned him on how tight you had a grip on him, the thought of not being able to escape your hold bringing a new sense of euphoria within his body.

Have you ever even treated your wife this way? Anyone could see in business gatherings how uninterested you are despite being tied down to her, the nonchalance, neutrality in your eyes and certain coldness in the way you speak to her, as if reminding her of her place, putting a clear image in people’s head. Jaejun almost pitied your wife in a way, being married to someone as cruel as you.

You thrusted your hips in an angle that rubbed against his prostate and Jaejun cries out, before you completely pulled out and shoved him down face first on the sofa without giving him time to process. Jaejun’s breath hitches when the smell of nicotine nears him, fear and lust evident in his eyes as he takes in the sight of your cigarette few inches away from his shoulder. He stays still in spite of knowing your intention, breathing hard as excitement rushed through his veins.

“You know this very well, baby. I’ll kill anyone who’d dare steal you away from me,” You grin devilishly and lean down, pulling him slightly up by his throat to expose his collarbones. Jaejun hisses and groans loudly when the cigarette burned his skin, precum leaking out of his cock as he jerked his hips on the rough material of the sofa. “and I’ll kill you if you ever try to run away from me.”

“f-fuck—! jesus christ,” He whimpered, feeling the burn sting and worryingly so fucking turned on by your threat.

Holding his shoulder down with one hand, you slipped your hard cock back into his hole again and shoved it all in without warning, ripping out a loud cry of your name from Jaejun’s throat. “Fuuuuck, so tight.” You cursed, licking your lips before beginning to thrust your cock in and out without waiting for him to adjust.

“w-wait—! I can’t— ohhh, oh my god!” Jaejun grips on the leather couch tightly as he moaned, electricity sparkling in his head and pleasure clouding his mind.

“Your hole’s so tight every-time I mark you up with my cigarette,” You murmured against the skin on his nape. Just as anticipated, your teeth sink in few seconds later to leave another mark that had Jaejun gasping, tightening more around you if that was possible.

“ho— holy shit! aughh—! more, fuckfuckfuck—! please,” He begged while arching his back, which you willingly fulfilled, sharply snapping your hips to assault his prostate and gummy walls.

Jaejun looked so pretty and handsome covered in your marks, countless hickeys and love bites decorating his neck, chest, nape, and back, his black robe deeming useless as it barely hung on his body. He’s nothing but helpless under you; a moaning mess who can’t do anything except take what you give, tears streaming down his cheeks as he attempted to stay coherent. His efforts are useless, of course. He’s already becoming a dumb bitch for your dick.

You slipped your hand to his throat while keeping your pace, grunting in his ear and chuckling breathlessly. “If you want me to get rid of my wife, just say the word and I’ll do it.” You whispered, making Jaejun shiver. “Unlike my bullshit of a sister, I’m not afraid to make you officially mine.”

Your words dig into his brain yet he couldn’t muster up a coherent response from all the euphoria he felt, drool dripping down his chin as all he could do was moan and whine and scream your name. He scratches against the sofa in attempt to ground himself, but failing to do so as your thrusts kept hitting every right spot, his eyes almost rolling back into his skull.

“Can’t speak properly now? Have I fucked you dumb, baby?”

“yes— yesyesyes, fuck, there— fuckin’ good!” Jaejun sobbed, his body trembling.

His tears looked so pretty on his fucked-out face. Jaejun rarely ever cries, and it made you fucking egotistical how you can easily do it with just few thrusts of your hips. His arrogance was your most favourite thing about him, but only because you get to ruin it and reduce him into nothing but your bitch. It’s amusing, really. The humiliation he gets makes him feel so ashamed, but you knew well enough that Jaejun could never handle being away from you. You had him completely under your grasp, all you had to do is just pamper him with affection and whisper love and false promises to his ear.

There’s nothing you love more than having control over Jaejun. How easily he fell into your trap, how he doesn’t realise he was being used against Yeonjin, how putty he becomes in your arms with just few words. You found him foolish yet was addicted to his presence and can’t be bothered to let go. It’s laughable how you feel overprotective of him enough that whoever flirts with Jaejun turns up dead the next day under mysterious circumstances. You had a bit of a problematic habit of burying your enemies to the ground, not like Jaejun even knows.

“fuck, ‘jun…” You groaned, “Whose bitch are you again? Will you remind me, baby?”

“Yours!” Jaejun cried out as he feels his orgasm approaching and intertwines his hand with yours that wasn’t holding his throat, as if not clinging to you would pain him. “shitshitshit, oh my god—! m’yours, fuck! Jus’ yours, sir, promise!” He babbled, mind-fucked.

“Good, you know your place well.” You praised and suddenly squeezed his arteries, making Jaejun gasp as his cock twitched against the sofa, stars sparkling in his vision. “I’m the only one allowed to fuck you like this, hear me? You fuck around again n’ I’ll make sure those losers can’t see a day anymore.” You thrusted sharply and Jaejun sobs. “That includes my fucking sister.”

“oh— aghhnn-! fuck, yes, only you— oh fuck, oh fuck, so close— sir—!” He mumbles, the coil in his stomach tightening. “please let me cum, sir. please, pleaseplease,” He chokes up.

The corner of your lips pull up to form a pleased smirk, tightening your hold on Jaejun’s throat and cutting off his airway that caused him to clench around you and squirm. “Good boy. Cum.” You ordered almost authoritatively, and as if that’s the only push he needed, Jaejun’s mouth fall open in a silent scream as he reached his climax, eyes rolling back into his skull.

You groan at the extra tightness and maintain your pace, helping him ride out his orgasm, Jaejun’s body violently shaking from the immense pleasure with white clouding his vision. Jaejun whimpered your name when you continued to move and peppered kisses on his back. His thighs quivered from overstimulation. He was entirely blissed out, hazy eyes unfocused, soft whines and mewls falling from his lips.

However, the gentle moment doesn’t last long as you pulled your cock almost all the way out and suddenly slammed it all in, Jaejun letting out a startled scream and staining the leather underneath with another rope of white cum.

“We’re not finished,” You whispered darkly against his ear and grinned at his pale face, gripping his hips so tight to leave a bruise. “I haven’t cum yet, dog. It’s rude to finish without letting your owner cum, you know.”

“W-wait— FUCK!”

You shoved him down when he attempted to crawl up, burying yourself deeper into his guts. You licked your lips and propped one of your legs up to prepare for a much better fucking.

“I fucking love you, Jaejun, you know that? So let me use you and make me cum, yeah? Then, you can spend the whole day here with all my cum still inside you. What do you say?”

You really hated vanilla — after all, what’s the point of sex if you can’t use the other to chase your own pleasure?

“……Please.”

You smiled, “Good boy.”

Cigarette in between your fingers and addictive smoke exiting your mouth, you tilt your head with curiosity and observation. The woman before you remain unfazed despite the clear disturbed look in her eyes at your resemblance with Park Yeonjin, the indifference — almost psychopathy — in your emotionless eyes aligning with her memory of the terrible bully. It’s like staring at a ghost that had something inhumane within.

“You must’ve planned this well,” You cast a glance at all the evidence of Yeonjin’s pathetic attempt at keeping her relevance by hurting those below her standard. “The bitch’s hard to keep up with, I can’t say I’m not impressed by your determination.”

Joo Yeojeong, the plastic surgeon that accompanied her out of concern, seemingly looked surprised by your antagonistic attitude to your own blood. Moon Dongeun doesn’t seem to be the case as she barely reacted, probably having already investigated you although it isn’t unknown that you have a personal vendetta against your family member.

You’re quite open to the public of your distaste to your good-for-nothing family, often answering the questions about them with too much passive-aggressiveness that everyone easily caught up on. Simply an outstanding individual that built up businesses from zero all on your own and created great reputation among the best businessmen and women without a single mention of any family member, there were rumours of the possibility that either they’re deceased or you had a fall out, and you took that to your advantage. By laying out warnings that even your family wouldn’t be forgiven had they ever cross you, you established power and authority among many influential figures and anyone alike.

Dongeun has researched you well enough to know hatred wasn’t exactly the word to describe your perspective of Yeonjin. It’s more than distaste, rivalry, detestation, loathe, or anything.

You, quite simply, wanted Yeonjin gone.

Is it psychopathy? Derangement? Mania? Insanity? Not knowing the cause of your behaviour never fails to send chills down her spine, your questionable morals and unpredictability nothing but unsettling and sinister more than your sister’s. Luckily, Yeojeong’s there to keep her nerves at ease.

“I’m not here to chat,” She says, voice wavering.

“Obviously not.” You reply indifferently, crossing your leg over the other and inhaling a smoke, blowing it over your shoulder.

Good manners, Dongeun takes a mental note.

“I’m asking for your understanding in advance,” She stated, watching your nonchalant expression slightly shift as you raise your brows. “I don’t want to run into unpredictable problems while executing my revenge. I know my place, I’ll be unsuccessful if you happen to dislike any other people going against Yeonjin. You’ve got quite the reputation in black organisations.”

She takes out another see-through file and slides it to you across the table, an amused scoff escaping your mouth at the sight of your gang’s symbol — a grim reaper, with snake circling it, holding a scythe — on the upper section of the document. Her investigation skills were impressive, to say the least. No one knows about your side job with an exception of certain people.

Deep, raspy chuckle rumbles from your throat and your companions resisted the urge to shiver. What an odd sight it was, an intrigued grin plastered over your previously blank face.

“Great observation, eh? I’m definitely that kind of type.” You shrug, “But I can assure you, I don’t give a damn about whatever you do to her. I found it ridiculous that she’s become so cocky and self-righteous these past years when Ha Doyoung and Hong Yeong-ae are the only reason she’s still relevant, and the latter’s already losing a thing to be prideful of. Imbeciles like them deserves to be put in their places.”

Yeojeong perks up at that. “Wait, does that mean…?”

“You have my blessing to make Park Yeonjin’s life a living hell,” You smirked.

Dongeun observes your body language; a deeply comfortable and relaxed demeanour with not a single ounce of remorse or guilt that you’re practically sending your own sister to an execution site. “You’re surprisingly easy to convince,” She commented.

Amusement glints in your eyes, almost accompanied by mockery as you chuckled. “Don’t give yourself too much credit, Ms. Moon. I’ve already been making Yeonjin’s life fall apart and I’m allowing you to join in. There wasn’t much convincing.”

“Why do you want Park Yeonjin’s downfall that much?” Yeojeong questioned curiously. “I thought your blood is still your blood even when you don’t see eye to eye all the time.”

You brought the cigarette to your lips and smiled, almost sinisterly, while tilting your head, an unsettling look more clearer in your eyes as you stared into their soul. “I kill people for a living, what makes you think I’ll have mercy on people who had long lost their purpose and significance in my life?”

Dongeun’s hands trembled under the table. Yeojeong swallowed thickly, the serial killer who had ruined his life before entering his mind all of a sudden due to the remote resemblance.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” As if you hadn’t been talking so cruelly about your family, an out-of-place cheerful and friendly grin appears on your face. “Jeon Jaejun is off-limits, Ms. Moon. I couldn’t care less what you do to him as long as he comes back to me alive.” You leaned in and tapped slowly on the photography of Jaejun, eyes trailing across your favourite toy’s feature.

Dongeun paused, remembering the one photograph Kang Hyeonnam managed to capture. You with your arm possessively wrapped around Jaejun’s shoulders as he talked with a certain woman, piercingly staring at her with a clear warning.

“Right, you’re possessive of Jaejun.” She remarked after a while. “If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’re in love with him.”

You let out a laugh under your breath, extinguishing the lit cigarette by pressing it on the ashtray. “Well, he’s quite an adorable dog.” You leaned back on the office chair, “But you’re correct about that.”

“Don’t you think you’re protecting him because you like him?” Dongeun genuinely asked.

The lack of malice in her tone let you know she wasn’t looking down on you, just making an assumption that she thought was possible, which is why you remained neutral in spite of your tendency to get irritated quickly. You feel like you could have genuine conversation with this woman and perhaps, even form an alliance, because not once had she gotten into your nerves this entire meeting. Her well-mannered attitude and calm, sophisticated personality did nothing but please you. It’s actually refreshing to meet someone who isn’t an obtuse fucking asshole that pretends to be something. She’s fearless, of course, but she perfectly knew her place and yours.

“Would you call it protecting when I’m even allowing you to do whatever you please with him?” You fired back, smiling almost genuinely at her. “I don’t care if he comes back to me crippled or blind as long as he’s breathing, because I simply refuse to mind someone else’s business. This is your revenge. I’ve got no plans interfering with something that doesn’t affect me nor my businesses.”

“You didn’t ask me why I’m doing this,” Dongeun wonders out loud. “Did you already know?”

“Of course,” You admitted with a nonchalant shrug. “I already had something planned ahead for the big final revelation of my beautiful younger sister,” You sneered with sarcasm. “But this is much more fitting for her. I have too much things to do to look through your evidence and figure out which ones you haven’t gotten yet, so I’ll just send you everything I’ve gathered myself.”

Slight surprise appeared on both of their faces and they exchanged a glance before Dongeun looked back to you. “That’s… helpful, but in exchange for what?”

You smiled, glad that it’s easy for her to figure out your intent. “Their absolute damnation.”

Dongeun stares at you, feeling the silent threats hanging in the air. Looking at your eyes glinting in mischief was enough; the failure to condemn Park Yeonjin and the others will result in her getting placed in the execution site with them. It was an oath from you to her, that she will gain all of your support in her plans, but can easily lose it once something doesn’t go according to plan.

You flashed a grin at her, leaning on your elbows. “Once everything goes smooth and they’re rotting either in prison or somewhere six feet under, I’ll give you a grace to be on the off-limits list in our organisation. That means you’ll be under my protection and not a single one of my men can harm you, even me.”

“What if you break it?” Yeojeong instantly chimes in, his concern evident for the woman.

“Then, I’ll cut my throat.” You don’t miss a beat to reply, making them widen their eyes. “People like us take deals, promises and oaths very seriously. Breaking them simply makes us a disgrace to the organisation, even the one that built it, so we tend to avoid going against what we initially agreed upon.”

Dongeun goes silent for a moment, contemplation plastered on her face, but gave you a nod afterwards. “That’ll be fine.” Her expression then shifts into a skeptical look, “But wouldn’t it be troublesome for you if Jeon Jaejun finds out you’re helping me?”

Your lips outstretched into a twisted smile that Dongeun and Yeojeong can’t be sure they’ll ever get used to.

“He doesn’t have to — what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, can it?”

Jaejun would come to you for help, he was adorable like that. He’d tell you about Moon Dongeun and her revenge against him. You just have to pretend you know nothing and take care of him, like you always do, and comfort him — so he would finally realise you’re the only one he can truly rely on. Not anyone, not Yeonjin, but you.

I’m so happy you’ve come this far, baby sis.

You thought to yourself, watching as a servant poured you and your two guests a red wine.

Everything you surrounded yourself with, is mine.

I win again, so I thank you with all my heart.

You’ve always been better than her and it’s going to stay that way, even with her ex-lover.

© ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ғᴀʟʟᴇɴᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀs. sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ, ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪᴢɪɴɢ, ᴏʀ ᴜsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴍᴏɴᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ɢᴀɪɴ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ᴀsᴋ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪɴɢ.

[itwdoris]

please request?

Nanami + finger sucking + pissing for him maybe somewhere out in semi public so he has to drink it to not make a mess n have you suck on his fingers to help you relax n not moan so loud … and then yall fuck while he praises you

🫣🫣😳

— 🐅

dada!nanami.

author notes; dada is just a title and does NOT refer to the literal. all characters are adults.

tw; piss drinking.

★

"nanami " you called him quietly as soon as the attendant walked away, squeezing his hand a little to receive a stronger grip in response as he turned to you.

"yes, dear?" nanami asked, seeing your face turn almost completely red, hum, maybe you just wanted another bun. he calmly moved a little closer to you, taking off his glasses to look you in the eye. "use your words, tell me."

embarrassed. in the middle of the little bakery he always brought you to when he came home from work, waiting for your little bag of delicious so you two can go home on a nice walk. but you just needed a little too much to relief yourself, and there was no bathroom there.

you pressed your lips together and moved your feet a little, a bit restless, looking at him without being able to tell what you needed to, not in front of the people in the queue behind you two.

but luckily or not, the attendant called his name just in time and soon you were on your way out of the bakery with a small bag of delicious bread.

well, your problem hadn't been solved yet but dont worry, kento hadn't forgotten, he was just walking a little further until you both were away from people so you could talk to him.

you whimpered quietly when finally stopped, because the need was stronger when you was not moving and an accident could happen right there. "ngh-"

"tell dada, love." he analyzed you for a few seconds, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows as he found nothing wrong, at least until he saw you put your hands together and decide to stick his hand inside your pants, slightly stretching your panties with his fingers to make space.

bang!

"ah, my darling needs to pee." nanami pulled you closer to him just to disguise the scene, yet holding your face with his free hand while the other caressed your wet folds. the bottom of your panties was too wet, he could imagine that you were about to piss yourself, but you're still a bit far from home. "it's okay, dada is here..."

dada will help you.

he always did, sighing as he tried to find a more hidden corner so he could do it, finally finding without taking so long because he knew how much you needed him. even if watching you piss yourself in front of him would be so nice, he wants to do it the right way.

nanami pushed you against the wall and knelt down, listening to your low whimpers as he left light kisses against your intimacy on top of your humid pants, whispering to you to stay calm, pulling it down and exposing you to him.

you moaned a little loudly, drawing his attention and making you want to hide your face, you didn't want to get in the way. but he wasn't bothered, just took one of his hands to your mouth and stuck them in, feeling you suck almost immediately, a habit memory.

looking down again, kento could see your lips wet, mouth salivating to drink any drop that dripped, he gulped. "can you pee for dada, love?" he let a kiss on it, coming closer to fit his mouth. "as you learned."

ah, he had taught you well.

because right after you nod like a good one and feel him fitting into you, you just let it out, all of your piss right on his mouth, muffling your moans in his fingers. kento needed to make it fit better so it didn't leak or splash out, because it was so much.

his other hands kept you in place, holding your hips so that he could have control, feeling the warm liquid go down his throat quickly. you rested your hands on his neat blond hair, your face full of relief and eyes closed, you could almost feel him caressing you with his fingers, gently, hips and tongue.

you only let go of his hair when you felt that he was going to take his hand away from your mouth, acting quickly to prevent it, whimpering as you drooled on his fingers with a red face.

the flow began to diminish little by little but nanami kept his mouth on you, rubbing your little piss hole with his soft tongue, all so wet, so good that you involuntarily rubbed against him, wanting more. "dada-"

he released your folds, leaving a few licks and kisses, looking at you who was so pretty, the corners of his mouth were raised in a slight smile as he stood up, pulling your pants with his free hand to get you dressed again.

"you were so good, darling." he said softly, leaving a small kiss on your forehead, caressing you down here. "learned so well ." you sucked his fingers harder, unintentionally, looking at him shyly.

you can feel something against you as he glued your bodies together, feeling him take his fingers out of your mouth, a line of saliva connecting it to your lips disappearing when he kissed you, passionately and desperately, because he seems to be the one who needs help now.

"let's go home," nanami kept his lips close to yours, bringing hands up to your face to hold it. "dada will tell you how good you were."

poorly made, also i ended up turning it into a dada fic cause i found it so coded- ik i didn't write the smut itself and its short, but yet hope you like it! <3

started writing it yesterday and couldn't finish until tonight-- ( ah i've been slow to write because i'm very tired mentally and emotionally, but i'll make efforts dont worry! if you sent a req it will be done, just wait for me plwase. thats it, love u <3