#they are not the same character. the only similarity they share is that they take on leadership roles for their teams. That's It | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sincerlyus · 4 months ago

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Reverse Falls!!

Soo this is my take on Reverse Falls!! I don't really know which are the original designs or which are the new personalities that each character adapts, so I made my own headcanons!! :3

It should be noted that there are characters who do not change personalities with anyone, but rather their personalities are more exaggerated or are opposite to the originals. Or (in the case of McGucket) their relationships are different so they change their way of being progressively.

EXPLANATION TIME:

This is quite long, I'm going to explain the personalities of each one and how they relate to various characters. Credits to: hours of daydreaming and Google Translate (TW: child abuse, emotional and physical abuse, homophobia, classism. I don't know if there's anything else, just in case)

Pacifica Northwest: Outgoing and very expressive. She didn't know Gideon very well until her parents sent her to Reverse Falls. She likes to knit, draw, and has a lot of stuffed animals. She has a lot of hair, and likes to do different hairstyles every day ("to be innovative"), cries when she has to cut it. She is very affectionate with Gideon and tries to get him out of his shell. She is a little insecure, but likes to see the positive side of things. She gets along very well with Bud, although sometimes she feels he is a little weird. Symbol: Llama (on her sweater)

Gideon Gleefull: Insecure, has little self-confidence, very skittish and anxious. Has a habit of chewing when he is thinking, like OG!Dipper (chewing on pens, his shirt, etc.). He didn't really know how to talk to Paz at first since the first time they met they were very little, what was she going to say?, was a "Hello" enough?, a handshake?, a complicated handshake?, was she going to ignore him? Paz simply gave him a big hug when she got off the bus (+ gave him a sweater she made on the way). Symbol: Telepathy star (in his hat)

Bud Gleefull: Ultimate scammer. Very friendly and funny, although sometimes a little intimidating. Bye Hawaiian shirts. Very patient with Gideon. He is basically the “cool uncle/dad”. He put Paz to work the day she arrived, although he became attached very quickly and gave her family privileges (he does the same with Gideon).

Mason “Dipper” Pines: He is still very insecure but is able to feign confidence when standing on stage with his sister. He still has a lot of passion for science, he is not very affectionate, he holds back his emotions as he does not want to look vulnerable, especially in front of Stanford. He has a lot of respect for Ford (or rather, fear), being his apprentice he sees him more as a teacher, a superior figure than as an uncle; however he has very little respect for Stan, threatening him and making fun of him. He does not usually use his amulet much, only to practice tricks or in his shows. He has a very distant relationship with his sister, similar to that of the Stan twins. They have many disagreements, but they still have each other's back, especially when Ford is aggressive with one of them. The most sincere relationship he has is with F, although he still treats him like an employee, knowing that he was one of the brilliant minds behind the portal he respects him. Sometimes he discusses theories and shares discoveries with him (although he is embarrassed to think that his only "friend" is an employee of his uncle). Once he met Gideon and Paz, he was able to show his more fragile side and be himself, although he doesn't consider them completely friends (that changes post-weirdmageddon). Symbol: Pine tree (a small pin)

Mabel Pines: A spoiled brat, basically. She's very charming and friendly on stage and with guests at the Pines' many parties, but she's very whiny and selfish behind the scenes. She's not at all affectionate, to the point that she hates physical contact, especially if it's from townspeople. She resents her brother a lot for being Ford's "favorite" (he doesn't really have favorites, he's just less strict with Dipper because he's useful to him). She's Stan's spoiled child, giving her what she wants when she wants it (they have a nice relationship actually, Stan being one of the only ones who comforts her when she's sad). Instead of knitting, she likes to design her own dresses and accessories for shows and parties (her guilty pleasure is arts & crafts, since it's a very "childish" activity for a Pines). Obsessed with Paz, but learns to respect her limits throughout the story. Symbol: Shooting Star (a small pin)

Stanley Pines: He basically swaps personalities with Bud, runs the Telepathy Tent, is very friendly, and is scared of his brother and the twins. He never gets involved in Ford's experiments, having a very tense relationship with him. He loves the twins very much but knowing the power they have with those amulets he prefers to go along with them and not question too much what they ask (he knows when to be firm but the one who really has an impact on them and can make them see reason is Ford). Symbol: Oyster(?? (on a necklace)

Stanford F. Pines: Did you think OG! Ford was a jerk? Well now he's twice as much! He doesn't have an ounce of empathy in him, he's very narcissistic and only cares about his projects and his image. He doesn't care at all about the twins, only seeing them as a way to make money, demanding the most out of them, and he doesn't hesitate to use violence if any of them get out of line. He's very distant with Stanley, speaking to him very dryly (or rather, barely speaking to him at all). He's almost a hermit, living in his laboratory, not letting the townspeople get to know him; although unlike OG! Ford, he cares a lot about how he presents himself in front of the public, taking care of his image and clothing. He's very demanding with Mabel, as he feels she's nothing more than a spoiled child, the image of the Telepathy Tent along with her brother. He is a bit kinder to Dipper, as he realizes that he has a brilliant mind for his age (though not more so than his own), so he includes him in many of his experiments and research if he proves useful; but excluding that, he is just as insensitive as he is with his twin, mistreating him if he does not comply with what is due. His relationship with McGucket is kinda weird: although they were friends in college, the power that Bill/Will offered him completely consumed him, being abusive to F, forcing him to work long nights, keeping him awake by force. He only sees him for his use: his great skill with mechanics (which Ford does not have, although he hates to mention it). Although he was in love with F while he was at Backupsmore, he currently has no romantic feelings towards him, considering him an employee, his assistant, nothing more. He has internalized homophobia (a gift from Filbrick) and classism, so he hates to remember when his relationship with F was one of equals, friends. It disgusts him to think about when he would get so emotional around him. Symbol: Six Fingered Hand (the diaries)

Fiddleford H. McGucket: He is still the brilliant mind he was in his youth, but stress eats him alive. He started to age very quickly thanks to it. He invented the memory gun to try to forget all the horrible things he witnessed or that Ford made him suffer, but his boss doesn't allow him to use it too much since it can damage his mental health and erase knowledge, making him less efficient and useful. He doesn't have a very deep relationship with Stanley, since he practically lives in the lab where Ford forces him to work, but they are able to talk whenever F has a break (almost never). He can't stand the twins too much, not only because he feels that they are very annoying, but because the simple presence of children in his day to day life reminds him a lot of Tate, with whom he no longer has contact. Everyone knows about the abusive relationship he has with Stanford, they are not indifferent to it but they try not to mention it or get involved in his affairs (practically out of fear of Ford). Throughout his stay with Stanford he started developing an emotional dependence on him: not only did he make him feel that he was useless without him, but he uses violence on him when he is not fulfilling his duty, causing F to blame himself when this happens (What did he do wrong? What can he do to improve?). This got to the point where he started to hurt himself when he did not do something right. Ex: hitting himself when he noticed that his leg was bouncing in front of his anxiety (something that bothers Ford a lot), pulling out clumps of hair in front of the stress of not being able to achieve something, biting his nails, scratching himself, hitting his head (imagine Dobby from HP). Such actions and the mixed feelings he had towards Ford, made him develop masochism, enjoying when he inflicts pain on himself and when he is the victim of Ford's physical and psychological abuse, he clearly hid this for a while since it would look very unprofessional on his part. Eventually his boss found out and used this to his advantage, being quite sadist himself (he enjoys watching or inflicting pain and/or humiliation on others, in this case, he gets sexual pleasure). So every time Ford needs to let off some steam, vent his frustrations (or is just horny), he uses Fiddleford to fulfill his fantasies, making F's wishes come true as well. He basically uses him as a sex toy, and F doesn't complain, having suffered so much emotional manipulation, he even considers himself lucky that his boss wants to be with him like this, even if it's NOT healthy. Symbol: Spectacles

Bill Cipher: I don't like the idea of changing his name, so Bill stays. He's still the same chaotic demon as in the original series, but this time he's been tricked by Ford into working for him and doing his bidding. He's also forced to do the twins' bidding. We already know that Bill can change his shape and color, so I think all of his shame and self-pity manifests itself in his appearance, turning blue over time (any strong emotion makes him change his appearance). He manipulates Gideon and Paz, making them feel sorry for him so they'll do his bidding (it doesn't work, clearly). The people he has the most contact with are Ford and Fiddleford, as they spend most of their time in the basement where he's locked up.

So that's it. I don't really know how this timeline would work, considering the portal and the journals, but I just wanted to have fun with the character designs and relationships (I feel like the weirdmageddon would happen sooner than in the original timeline). If you want me to go deeper into certain relationships or characters, let me know!!(≧▽≦) I'll see if I can go deeper into the relationship between Ford and Fiddleford that you guys liked so much (you guys really like toxic yaoi, huh??). I'm thinking of making a fanfic or smt to explain their day to day life in the lab and how Ford invited F to work with him (SPOILER: it didn't go well...).

That's it ig, LIKE AND SUSCRIBE!!!1!!1!Σ(°ロ°)

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sunasilhouette · 3 months ago

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「your intentions」 - s.rintarou x f!reader

✧summary:

what happens when a notorious manwhore, stoner, and player, encounters someone who doesn't seem all too interested. or: you piss suna off so much that he wants you

✧wc: 5.2k

✧au: college!au, freshman!suna, freshman!reader, miya twins side characters

✧ tags + warnings under the cut | ao3 link (sentence case) |

♪♬ intentions - starfall

✧warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, bratty!reader, experienced!reader, sadist!suna, dom!suna, fuckboy!suna, stoner!suna, sexual tension, alcohol consumption, fwb, suna is an asshole with standards,

✧tags: fingering (f.), oral (m.f.), teasing, degradation, pet name (kitten/ princess), unprotected sex, rough, edging, mirror sex, dubcon, creampie, face-fucking, cum swallowing

frat parties themselves were frustrating—loud, crowded, sweaty. but on the bright side, they always accompanied themselves with free booze and weed. a lot of the guys here played for various sports teams on campus, most of them on the volleyball team.

one in particular, suna rintarou. the guy you so happened to sit next to in the blunt rotation and the very guy your friend warned you about yet also praised. rumour has it suna rintarou only calls up girls when he's high but he was an insane fuck. you didn't take much notice until it was your turn in the rotation. with a tap on your shoulder, you turned to the tall, foxy-featured volleyball player.

“hey. you want some or not?" rintarou suna said lazily, expression blank. his sharp, foxy features complement the entire vibe he was exuding. plus, you were surprised that you could smell a sexy, earthy cologne on him and not just the weed.

you turned around, meeting his eyes with a similar blank expression, not really vibing with his tone. you might have had a resting bitch face... but, you didn’t say anything as you took the offered blunt, taking a big puff and blowing it at his face, saying, “thanks," clipped with a fake smile and then turned back to your friend, dismissing the surprise on her face.

what you didn't notice was how suna raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by your boldness yet intrigued. as you blew smoke in his face, he had taken a slow, deliberate breath, his eyes never leaving yours. even when you turned away, he kept his gaze drifting lazily over your body in a way that was both assessing and appreciative.

leaning back casually against the couch, he pulled out his phone but continued to sneak glances at her from the corner of his eye. a slow, sly smile spread across his lips.

meanwhile, your friend yui was erratically sputtering about your passive-aggressive interaction with the known ‘manwhore’. honestly, you didn’t get the big deal and continued sipping at your drink and making conversation with the other sports guys, purposely ignoring suna.

sure, you'd be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive but he was surprisingly not the kind of guy you usually go for. suna’s and your mutual friend osamu was more up your alley since you shared an elective with him and he seemed way more of a green flag than a notorious womaniser.

yui was in the middle of not-so-quietly warning you about him, no doubt painting him as some kind of villain suna thought. with that, you felt as though a certain someone was staring a hole into the back of your head causing you to shift your gaze briefly—mr hotshot himself already looking with that same lazy, blank yet sharp expression of his. he quirked the side of his lip. you rolled your eyes at him, something suna definitely wanted to see again.

you were alerted to a ringing and a name that pissed you off reading. “shit… sorry, I gotta take this call.” you told yui, putting your drink down and leaving the group, trying to find your way through the crowded living room and up the stairs into a hopefully unoccupied room.

you waltzed upstairs and managed to find an empty room where people weren't fucking in to take the phone call. it wasn't a very fun one.

"christ, anzai, I told you not to call me again. do I really have to block you?" the conversation was pointless and getting on your nerves. you sat down on the bed, rubbing your temples out of frustration. sighing and about to cuss out your ex-fwb over the phone, the door opened, letting a bit of light into the dark room.

suna rintarou. your eyes grew at the coincidence but you needed to end the phone call. suna was just quiet, watching you with that blank expression and stare of his.

"you're blocked. don't call me."

the invader leaned casually against the doorframe, watching you with keen interest as you hung up. you sighed as you rubbed your temples which probably struck a chord in him—you're sure he knew this feeling all too well. the room fell silent except for the muffled noise and shit music from downstairs. wordlessly, he pushed off the doorframe and moved further into the room, closing the door softly behind him. suna came to sit beside you on the bed, close but not quite touching. reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a joint and lighter.

"trouble in paradise?" he asked quietly, sparking the lighter. his tone was devoid of its usual sarcasm, surprisingly gentle. he took a long hit before offering it to you, exhaling smoke slowly through barely parted lips. his eyes, usually sharp and mocking, had softened as he regarded you in the shadows. for now, the game was on hold - it seemed he was simply offering a moment of quiet understanding.

this was the infamous manwhore on campus people were dying to get in bed with? you glanced at the joint that he offered. you didn’t take it, saying, "can't a girl get a little bit of privacy? I prefer escaping the party alone, actually."

"this is my room, actually," he replied calmly, taking another drag from the joint.

“shit- sorry.” you started, about to stand up and leave but he didn’t seem bothered or react as if he was so... you slowly sat back down.

suna exhaled slowly and shrugged. "don't worry, I'm not going to try anything. just thought you could use someone to vent to, if you want." his tone was casual, non-threatening. holding the joint out to you again, he added, "or... we could just get high and forget about our problems for a while."

his expression gave nothing away as usual, but his eyes were open and attentive, implicitly letting you know he was genuinely offering an ear. the ball was in your court now - you could take the outstretched joint as a peace offering and relax in comfortable silence, or tell him to fuck off.

“well, guess I'll take you up on that,” you said in reply, the faintest hint of a smile on your glossy lips.

a ghost of a smirk tugged at suna's lips as you accepted said peace offering, brushing against his fingers slightly (intentionally or not), clearly pleased with himself. he leaned back on one arm, mirroring you, close but not quite touching and watched the end of the joint glow orange as you took a hit.

"so, what's with the aggressive call?" he asked casually, your brief contact sent a subtle spark through him, though his expression remained as bored as ever. "ex giving you trouble?"

he took another long drag, holding the smoke for a moment before releasing it. his hooded gaze remained fixed on you, waiting patiently. there was a comfortable silence as the weed started to take effect, blurring the edges of discomfort.

during the brief silence, you took him in, only now realising how long his legs were and how huge he actually was without that oversized jacket- arms, hands, fingers; everything.

averting your eyes, you instead noticed a few things about his bedroom. one - a massive wall-to-ceiling mirror on his built-in wardrobe and a volleyball as well as some trophies on display on the shelves. some of his clothes were thrown about, as you would expect in a first-year guy's room. not to mention his impressive PC set-up.

suna had followed your gaze around the room, catching the subtle once-overs of his physique and belongings.

you finally indulged him by replying to his question, “not that big of a deal. just an asshole that begged to tap again despite being a one-minute wonder," you smirked through the confession - subtlety not being one of your strongest suits.

"really? wouldn't know what that's like." you could practically hear the smirk in his voice too, confidence oozing through.

you rolled your eyes at his comment, "though, seems like you're the same in that you don't know how to take the hint. heard all about you." you continued before you could really think over what you had just implied.

he hid a smirk by taking another drag.

"hmm, really?" he replied lazily, "and what exactly have you heard?"

of course, suna knew the rumours that circulated about him - manwhore, player, only calls girls when he's high and or drunk. but he was curious what impression you in particular had gotten. his hooded gaze watched your expression closely.

the joint was starting to take effect now, softening the edges of his usual sharp demeanour. a pleasant buzz hummed through your veins.

letting out a soft chuckle, closing your eyes and replying with shrug, "you only call girls when you're high or drunk. and… you're an 'insane fuck'. a friend's words - not mine."

as you spoke, suna reached his arm past you, leaning over your thighs to stub out his joint on an ashtray atop the bedside table. your eyes grew wide at the sudden proximity.

"hmm, your friend isn't entirely wrong," suna hummed, his breath ghosting over your ear. he took his sweet time stubbing out the joint, not missing and clearly enjoying the subtle tension of your body.

when he sat back, he turned his head to meet your eyes, mere inches away. his gaze, usually sharp and mocking, had softened into something molten under the haze.

"but, what do you think?" he asked quietly, a hint of challenge in his tone. one of his long fingers came up to brush a lock of hair from your cheek, lingering there for a moment as his eyes dropped to your lips. the game was still afoot, but the rules had changed - this was no longer just casual banter.

this was an invitation.

and, your own gaze failed you too. for a split second, your eyes flicked down to his lips and then back up to his greyish-yellow eyes. you decide not to swat his hand away.

“well, shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, and so on...” you whispered low and sultry, “as for ‘insane fuck’… let’s just say I don’t have the experience to give my own opinion.”

"wise words," his thumb tracing soft circles on her cheek. your admission both surprised and intrigued him. he liked the way you talked.

leaning in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away, he brushed his lips against the shell of your ear once more. "what do you say we change that?" he breathed, letting the question hang tantalizingly in the air.

his free hand came up to tangle gently in your hair, tilting you enough to expose the long, column of your neck. suna pressed a lingering kiss there, feeling that pulse quicken under his lips and forced a breathy sigh out of you, the pressure feeling so good.

"or d'you wanna continue our little game of cat and mouse?" he whispered, hot breath ghosting over sensitive skin. his eyes, when they meet yours again, gleam with promise and challenge.

"that depends,” you whispered out, “who’s the cat and who’s the mouse?” contrary to conflicting words, your own hands moved to slide up his shirt—to the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his brown locks. hands on his bare skin sent sparks through his veins, sharpening his focus.

"good question," suna murmured just above your lips, eyes half-lidded with intent.

in one smooth motion, he pushed you down, caging you against the plush mattress. his knee parted your thighs, making that tight mini skirt ride up just enough, pressing against your core, eliciting a gasp.

"for now, I think it's safe to say the mouse has been caught. but, I have a feeling you're more kitten than mouse," he gazed down at you with hooded eyes, taking in your flushed cheeks and sweet curves. "so you gonna let me kiss you, or...?

that shit-eating grin on his face made the idea of denying him so much more tempting. alas, suna rintarou was stupidly good with his words. but, so were you.

"I'll let you do more if you hurry up."

you could hear suna curse under his breath right before capturing your lips in a searing kiss. he rolled his hips against yours, grinding his hard length through the thin layers of fabric. a low groan rumbled in his throat at the exquisite friction.

breaking the kiss, he trailed his mouth down your jaw and neck, nipping and sucking marks into the tender skin. “so you’re the impatient type, huh?” he teased, hands making quick work of that skirt. "alright, I’ll give you what you want.”

not a second later and you’re stripped bare. he’s settled between your thighs. no more teasing—he delved right in, lapping eagerly at those dripping folds. his reputation precedes him, ministrations focused and skilled, clearly well-practised in the art of reducing his flings to a quivering mess.

you didn’t know what to expect but suna going full-throttle was definitely not on the list. either suna really was a god with his hands and tongue or the weed in your system was making you feel pleasure tenfold. you hoped it was just the latter.

you couldn’t even stop to think about trying to avoid the mounting orgasm. suna didn’t help with the way his tongue perfectly circled your clit. or how his fingers curled and prodded that sweet spot in your tight, soaking wet cunt.

it wasn’t your fault how your thighs quivered and threatened to close around him—but suna kept you spread, happily lapping up the slick and wetness from your cum.

you cursed and could feel his fucking grin, taking his time kissing and nipping down your inner thighs. only when you stilled did he crawl back up your body, grabbing at the flesh of your curves.

his lips and chin glistened with your essence, kissing you once more and letting you get a taste of yourself on his hot tongue.

suna nipped at your swollen lips, erection straining painfully against his jeans. “your turn,” he said, taking your hand and guiding it to the tent in his pants.

your brows frowned and smirked somewhat irritably. that nonchalant, confident arrogance of his really did a good job at pissing you off (and turning you on). two could play at that game.

recovered from that mind-blowing orgasm, you pushed against his chest, making him sit up and lean on one arm. “you really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

you claimed his lips once more, undoing the belt and unzipping his pants with practised ease as he helped by kicking them off.

his grunt out of surprise was delightful to hear as you gripped him by the base, cock twitching eagerly in your grasp.

“guilty as charged,” he breathed when you parted, watching with that lazy grin and hooded eyes. “but you seem to be holding your own just fine,” he reached down to stroke your cheek. suna’s expression softening from his usual mocking edge into something almost tender. almost.

now that you were quite literally face-to-face with his cock, you couldn’t think anything else other than, ‘fuck, he’s big’. stupid volleyball players and their stupid big hands, big build and big dick apparently.

“you’re not the only one who’s been around,” you confessed, teasing the tip, flicking salty pre all around, all while looking at him doe-eyed through your lashes.

suna sucked in a sharp breath, hips twitching slightly from the teasing touches. “mm, I’m learning that,” he replied, voice roughening with barely restrained desire. what he would give to shove his cock down that diabolical mouth of yours. the mental image of your full, pouty lips stretched wide around him might have been enough to send him over the edge on its own.

his fingers tangle into your hair, not pushing but definitely encouraging, giving it a light tug. you took that as the go signal, licking up a stripe from the base of his cock. your spare hand, already coated with the juices from your cunt came up to pump once and then twice.

and, just as you finished licking up that stripe, you closed your mouth around the tip, bobbing your head and experimentally hollowing out your cheeks.

the throaty groan suna let out was more than satisfactory, head falling back as you sucked harder. “fuck, just like that…” he growled encouragingly, hips wanting to jerk up into that perfect mouth but he held back, letting you set the pace.

furrowing your brows at him, you swallowed him deeper until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, moaning, sending waves through his cock. he was in so deep. you could feel it twitch inside your throat and taste what was uniquely suna rintarou.

"f-fuck," he stammered, hips bucking up helplessly at the sensation of your throat fluttering around the head of his cock. oh, you were taking him so well, like you were made for swallowing his length. "so fucking good," he praised roughly, stroking your cheek. his release was coiling hot and tight already.

just before sending him over the edge, what could a little more teasing do? with a lick of your lips, you gazed up at him from below and with a smirk saying, “you holdin’ back or somethin’? I’m not a stranger to being face fucked," and licked another swipe down his cock.

suna scoffed. his eyes flashed dangerously.

in a flash he flipped you backwards, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his cock jutted heavy and eager between you, glistening with his pre and your saliva.

"you asked for it, kitten," he warned, a wicked gleam in his eyes. without further preamble, he plunged back into your mouth, setting a punishing pace as he fucked that perfect throat.

suna's hips snapped forward relentlessly as he took what he wanted. one hand tangled roughly in your hair to hold you in place for his merciless punishment.

"such a naughty little slut, begging to be face fucked," he growled, feeling his release coiling tighter with each slick thrust. "swallow it all when I come, got that?"

his groans and grunts were honestly music to your ears. a few more hard thrusts and he was spilling down your throat with a guttural groan, pounding into your mouth through the entirety of his climax.

you weren't immune to having tears well up in your eyes as white hot cum spurted down your throat, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling and to not choke around him.

when suna ‘generously’ (not) pulled out of your mouth, you puffed your cheeks and swallowed hard, turning to cough. you faced suna after, licking your lips and swallowing all while looking at him dead in the eye almost defiantly, “people usually stop fucking moving when they blow,” you complained, voice slightly hoarse but that just made suna even more prideful.

he just chuckled at your complaint—that same evil laugh accompanying that shit-eating smirk. "dunno who you're tryna convince since..." he shifted, fingers tracing your hips and tapped your sopping wet cunt, wetness practically dripping down your thighs. "you're ruining my sheets."

you detested that suna rintarou face-fucking you made you wet to the point where you dripped all over his bed. it was now clear to him exactly how he should continue treating you.

rolling smoothly atop you, he caged you in with strong arms and settled between welcoming thighs. "I’ll clean that up for you," he purred, dipping his head to sample the sweet flavour lingering on his tongue.

suna let his fingers do most of the work stretching you out, making you mewl, moan, and arch your back. “s'that what you say to all the girls you fuck?”

suna chuckled darkly against her slick flesh, tongue delving deeper in response. "not always," he replied, lips and chin glistening when he pulled back to meet your eyes. two fingers scissored inside you, curling to stroke that sweet spot, while his thumb circled your aching clit in lazy eights.

"now quit your yapping and enjoy the ride." he resumed his oral devotion with renewed vigour, determined to reduce you to a quivering mess once more before claiming you fully. only when you were sobbing his name and gripping the sheets in abandon would he deem you ready for his cock.

fuck— his fingers really were magic. you were questioning why he was so adamant on stretching you out. though, after taking his cock in your mouth, you were actually wondering how it’d fucking fit inside. you were so, so close to coming for the second time that night. but, you oh-so badly wanted to cum on his cock. you’d rather die than admit it though, stubbornly biting your lip, muffling cries so as to not give him satisfaction.

suna hummed, smirking around the mouthful of flesh his lips and tongue were lavishing. he could feel your inner walls fluttering, body coiled as tight as a bowstring on the edge of release.

pulling back with an obscene pop, he withdrew his fingers to your disappointed mewl. "tsk, so impatient," he chided, nipping at your inner thighs. "don't you want the real thing?" he purred, rubbing the thick head of his cock through your slick folds in slow, teasing circles. he was fully hard again, ready to plunge deep.

"beg for it like a good girl and I'll consider it," he challenged, grey-golden eyes glittering with mischief. his thumb returned to rub tight, fast circles around your clit, keeping you right on the razor's edge.

your brows furrowed, eyes closing tight in hopes to stop yourself from coming. you swallowed hard and managed a smirk despite your hazed eyes, closing your legs around his torso, pulling him in, playfully nipping at his bottom lip. "not until you ask me for my name, asshole."

suna growled low in his throat. little minx was going to be the death of him. his cockhead nudged insistently at your entrance, aching to breach that tight heat.

his voice was low and smooth, lacking its usual teasing edge. for once, his full attention was focused solely on you, "alright then, kitten. what's your name?" you waited on his question, and then you'd give your answer, along with the fucking of a lifetime.

whispering your name into his ear, you continued, "but, you can call me your slut if you let me cum on your cock this time. and, if you’re good I might even let you have my number."

the way your voice stayed low and sultry almost lulled him into some sort of spell. it didn't help suna's patience when your legs tightened around his waist, making his cock kiss the entrance of your cunt.

suna's eyes darkened at the sinful proposition, cock twitching eagerly. oh, he was going to make you beg for release before the night was through.

he purred your name, tasting it on his tongue as he rolled his hips, "such a pretty name for a dirty slut." he chuckled, nipping your lobe.

in one swift thrust, he finally sank home, burying to the hilt in one smooth stroke. your velvety heat clenched so tight around him. it was exquisite torture. the moan you both shared together was downright diabolical and the proceeding muffled cries that you let out in your mess of a kiss felt delicious on suna’s tongue.

bracing himself on muscular arms, he set a punishing pace, hips snapping forward to grind against your clit on every pass. "you'll probably be begging for mine once I'm done," he mumbled against your lips, grey eyes alight with primal hunger.

with the way your pussy clenched down on him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders and the way you moaned his name: how could he not feel like he was running on pure ecstasy.

suna gripped your hips and flipped you over, leaning over your arched body. he nipped the shell of your ear with a smirk. his free hand gripped your chin, pulling your head up, making you look up at that full-length mirror on his wardrobe, "remind me how you want it, again?"

you wanted to curse him out so bad with how badly your walls fluttered achingly around nothing. biting your lips, you let out a shaky sigh as your cheeks flushed an even deeper red. finding the strength to lift a hand to turn his head and whisper devilishly into his ear, "rough."

with a breathy chuckle, he replied, "sure thing, princess." without further warning, he gripped your hips once more and slammed back in. you cried out, whether in pain or pleasure or a sick mixture of both, you neither knew nor cared. all that mattered was the feeling of suna wrecking your insides.

suna's hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the debaucherous reflection in the mirror. the muted sounds of the frat party downstairs faded, replaced with the noises of sex and slapping skin.

your skin flushed pink and red from the marks he left on your body. looking up for a brief second, you met his blown-out pupils in the mirror, managing to get out, "a little fucked in the head, aren’t you-"

suna's lips curled into a feral smirk at your words, meeting your gaze unflinchingly in the mirror. "takes one to know one, princess," he growled, angling his hips to drive even deeper. his thrusts were relentless, pounding into you so hard the force shifted you forward.

leaning over you and reaching around, he splayed his large hand over your lower belly, feeling the bulge of his cock. "feel that?"

of course you fucking felt it—he was practically splitting you open. and you'd hate to admit it but you felt high and it was definitely not the weed.

he caught your mouth in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue. his eyes bored into yours in the mirror, a feral challenge gleaming in their depths.

you couldn’t stay up. you lowered your head, body high on firey pleasure as suna pounded a second orgasm into you. you cursed and sputtered out, "f-fuck...! I'm gonna..."

his own face twisted in ecstasy. fuck, he needed to fill you up. your cries raised an octave and walls began to spasm around him, making him groan deeply into the crook of your neck. as much of an asshole he was, he found a slither of control inside him to care enough to ask.

he cursed, his control hanging by a thread, "you on anything?"

his cock pistoned in and out of your walls, hitting that spongy sweet spot every single time. the slap of skin filled the room along with your mingled moans. suna's orgasm was coiling tight, ready to explode.

somehow summoning the last shreds of willpower, he panted against your skin, "hurry, tell me before I lose it…" the decision was yours, but he wasn't sure he could stop even if you said to. not when you felt this fucking good.

part of him wanted nothing more than to spill deep inside, and claim you as only his. a few more erratic thrusts were all he could manage, hanging on the razor's edge for your reply before the dam broke.

“f-fuck... just— fill me up…!” you couldn’t even think straight as you peaked. your back arched like a pretty moon with a death grip on the sheets, trying to at least hold on to a bit of your sanity.

a guttural groan tore from suna's throat at your permission, the last of his restraint shattering. he slammed home one final time, spilling hot white cum deep inside your clenching walls with a full-body shudder.

wave after wave of pleasure crashed over him as he pulsed into you, your climax dragging his out for an agonizing eternity. your velvety heat milked him for all he was worth, and he swore he saw stars behind his lids.

coming back to himself, he collapsed heavily over you, panting for breath. suna buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent as you both floated down together.

"fuck…" was all he could manage in a gravelly rasp, still nestled inside.

the previously faded noise of the party had now become slightly audible and matched with the beating of your heartbeats and panting breaths. holy fuck. suna rintarou really was an insane fuck.

pulling out slowly, he watched his seed leak from your abused cunt with a satisfied smirk. rollling onto his side, he tugged your limp, well-fucked body towards him, tucking you under his arm.

was he still high? cus the way he was looking at you was kinda dangerous… you didn’t say anything else and pressed your lips against his again, wanting to forget about everything else and enjoy the ‘insane fuck’ that was suna rintarou.

suna readily returned your kiss, losing himself in the feel of your pretty soft lips. for once, his mind had gone blissfully blank - all he knew was the girl in his arms and the taste of you on his tongue.

reluctantly breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead to yours, noses brushing almost intimately as you both caught your breaths. his fingers traced idle patterns along your flushed skin, committing every curve and plane to memory.

his eyes cracked open to meet your gaze, and for a heartbeat, something almost tender flickered in his usual sardonic depths. "stay the night?" he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft. fingers tracing the bow of your lips, he awaited your answer.

“what, can’t get enough of the girl that accidentally walked into your room?” you teased, biting the finger that traced your lips.

suna huffed out a soft laugh at your retort. he replied, "can you blame me? think I hit the jackpot with you." his fingers combed idly through your tousled locks, gaze roaming your well-fucked form with unabashed hunger and appreciation.

"besides," he purred, nosing along your jawline to nip at the spot below your ear that made you gasp, "you still need to answer my question."

his voice had dropped to a low, gravelly rasp that went straight to your core. he smirked against your flushed skin. "do I live up to my reputation as an 'insane fuck'?"

yes, you answered mentally—but you weren't about to feed his ego even more.

trailing his fingers down your spine, he purred, "and I believe someone promised me her number? for being 'good' and filling her up.”

despite the way you shivered at his touch once more, you huffed and pushed against his chest. “your volleyball friends not gonna miss you?” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him.

"probably too busy getting shitfaced to notice I'm gone," he replied with a lazy shrug. "I'd much rather stay right here and wreck you a few more times before calling it a night." his hand slid down your stomach to tease that oversensitive clit, smirking at your involuntary gasp.

“you’re impossible.”

unfortunately for you, you did surrender your number to suna in the end. and, you even stayed the night, surprising a few of suna’s house mates from the sight of the smoking hot girl he managed to somehow get into his bed. you paid them no mind as you left his place. well- apart from giving your classmate, osamu miya, an awkward greeting before leaving.

it wasn’t long before you and suna would meet again, and again, and again…

#suna rintarou #suna rintarou smut #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou x reader smut #suna x reader #suna x reader smut #suna smut #haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #potentially doing more with this au #what happens when suna begins to fall in love with his favourite fwb?#honestly he's probably already started falling #follow for next instalment o/

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iceunhie · 7 months ago

Text

[ 3 + 1 ].

premise. in which entails your daily life being in a relationship with the one and only eccentric wanderer. (alternatively: wanderer's love for you comes in many forms. you welcome them all the same.)

warnings: established relationship, hurt-comfort, slice of life, wanderer is called kuni. jealousy (wanderer), angst. FLUFF fluff fluff. wanhida family goals

a/n: ITS SCARAMOUCHE WANDERER SEASON his event broke me btw [in tears]

BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX !

# observation one: unconventionally clingy

early on in your relationship, this side of the wanderer remains quite privy to himself alone. this is because he has a very, very uncanny similarity to an aggressive and guarded cat that hisses when given an ounce of affection.

this does not mean he doesn't like your outlandish and grand displays of affection, though; its actually the opposite. (LOL)

the true crux of the matter lies in his inability to let down his guarded pride to admit that he thinks your affection is his lifeblood. (basically, “ew, affection... do it again”)

he's a menace (affectionate), and if you were one for critiquing that aspect of his character, you wouldn't have been in a relationship with him by now, anyway.

however—there is always a however when it comes to him—this does not mean that wanderer doesn't come across points of anxiousness over the fact that his less than affable personality may be something you will grow sick of one day.

he knows he isn't the best choice of a romantic partner; seriously, what were you even thinking... but when he establishes that you are indeed now an irreplaceable part of his life (which will take a long time, good luck), he clings to you with a fierce desperation underneath all that thorn and bristle.

this is part of his visceral fear of abandonment—you are the one thing that he adores, cares for with his entire being (nahida as a close second), and to watch you slip away from him due to his own misgivings will spell out a death sentence for him.

(so please, treat him gently; cradle his cracked palms and broken psyche, and slowly, emphasis on slowly, but surely, he will learn to return in kind.)

this ‘clinginess’ comes forth in his proximity to you. once he has felt comfortable with your relationship, wanderer is quite unafraid to show how touchy he is in his own way.

whether that is to get groceries in your shared home, following after you like a second shadow when you go to the grand bazaar, or even shooing away people that harass you (tba), the wanderer's gaze and all his efforts are always directed to your will.

(you dubbed this as ‘scary cat boyfriend privilege’—and are rewarded with a painful flick to the forehead. ouch.)

—☆★☆—

“where are you going?” the slender hand that stops you from leaving your comfy bed does little to help your need to fall back into the blissful arms of sleep.

“just going to go get some water, kuni.”

waking up to the sight of the wanderer in all his divine glory certainly isn't one of the things you expected in your life, but you welcome it all the same. leaving a simple kiss to his forehead, you pry your hand away with a gentleness you reserve only for him.

he flushes, a lovely red adorning cheeks, to the span of his neck. oh, how you love seeing him melt.

“you won't take too long?”

he doesn't need to breathe, but he sucks in a breath anyway, face twisting to a deep set frown—your telltale sign that your kunikuzushi had a nightmare.

an unanswered question. you won't leave?

your hand caresses the silky soft strands of his purple hair, that in which wanderer nuzzles into. he doesn't seem keen on telling you, and you respect that. you'd wait for him as long as he'd like.

“of course i will. not going anywhere, silly.”

why would i? you convey in that same gesture. i love you.

the tightness of his face relaxes, his grip on your hand loosening. right—you weren't. (you were not going to abandon him.)

“hurry up and come back, then. it's far too early.” his voice is still thick with sleep, though that doesn't temper his signature sass at all.

i love you too. goes unsaid.

your grin sharpens, teasing. “aww, don't miss me too much, okay?”

anddd there's the signature scowl. “...never mind, don't come back.”

“hey!”

shuffling to hide his face from you, wanderer sports a genuine smile, hidden from your sight.

because in your presence, the wanderer stills, and all thoughts of a doomed eternity fall short of how he commits himself to you—wanderer loves and loves, loves you, for you nestle in the space his heart was meant to be, holding onto the mere wisps of your identity and weaving it into the mosaic of his soul.

it's silent save for when you plop yourself back to the bed, bearhugging wanderer and complaining about waking up early again because you stayed up all night playing tcg with him. (he's at 10 wins and 5 losses and he was not going to be caught lacking).

“you do realize that's entirely your fault, right?” he gloats. “it's not my fault my card bested that lawachurl of yours.”

“what?! no way, mister! my all geo team is still superior, mind you-”

once, wanderer wondered about the concept of infinity.

everlasting devotion. of unabashed care and trust. as he listens to your ramblings as the night falls to day, he figures that what you currently share fits that concept just fine.

# observation two: (very) jealous tendencies

it isn't in wanderer's intention to be jealous. well, so he says.

really, he isn't! after all, what was there to be jealous of? absurd! looks, intellect, an extensive range of vocabulary not limited to insults and creative verbal attacks; wanderer boasts quite the sizable number of pros that get most people falling at his feet. (his outward personality leaves much to be desired, however, but his snark does have a certain charm. probably).

and of all the bashful akademiya seniors and well-intentioned young women (and men), you managed to get into a relationship with this black cat of a derisive puppet. this is an achievement worthy of celebration, for not just anyone can take the wanderer and burrow into his many, many guarded walls and claim the title of being his lover.

yet, wanderer is the more jealous one in the relationship.

he knows that you won't cheat on him, and trusts that you won't look at others in such a way. but still, your boyfriend can't help but doubt. be patient when working out his jealousy, for it is a double edged sword—on one hand, wanderer was so adorable when he was jealous; sulky, clingy, hot you name it! and it was very flattering, knowing that he loved you enough to want to keep you all to himself.

but, the other side was quite... a piece of work. should you attempt to tease him about such a thing, it ends in three ways. one, him flying off to god knows where and leaving you alone (😐), two, restricting you from hugging and giving him affection (😭), and worse, giving you the silent treatment (😨). choose your ammunition wisely.

and from this, be prepared for the wanderer to monopolize your attention all to himself— with said admirers mysteriously off the grid or too afraid to approach you for fear of his wrath. i'll say it once: a jealous wanderer is a force to be reckoned with. (and we love him for it)

(he was chided endlessly by nahida for this; “you're scaring all the researchers that want to do a thesis review with [name]!” she says.

a sly smirk was his only reply).

—☆★☆—

“what, and here i thought he had more bark left in him.” wanderer huffs haughtily, with the researcher dashing away as if his life depended on it.

“you'll get scolded by nahida again, you know. i don't think the dendro archon's trusted aide should boast a terrifying reputation.”

he snorts. “lesser lord kusanali has better things to do than chide me for harassment.”

“but you don't have better things to do than scaring away poor kimiya?”

that gets you an eye roll that could reach massive highs of ‘what about it?’ from your boyfriend. “you're overthinking.” (translation: you're right).

“uh huh, sure i am.”

“whatever. who you talk to and interact with is none of my concern. it's not like i care about such things anyway.” he retorts. “i'm not possessive.”

so he says. “by the way, his pickup line was pathetic—‘are you anemo because your beauty blows me away’? atrocious.”

your eyebrow raises in return. really, who was speaking about “not caring” and then judging right after? well, it's fine because he was kinda right.... cyno would definitely get along with that guy.

“it was sincere! i think he has to be commended for his efforts, no?”

“you call that effort?” his face scrunches to a dissatisfied frown.

kinoya, kimiya—he doesn't even remember his name anymore. wanderer doesn't care for those that waste his time, and more especially to those that attempt to get close to you in particular. honestly, what a cheap trick.

and you! you were seriously humoring that moony researcher earlier. you even smiled at him! wanderer seethes, crossing his arms. “its quite irritating, knowing that they flock to you under the guise of—what was it he said? right, ‘shared academic pursuits.’ it was too obvious.”

“first of all: that's rude, second, he really needed help! anyone would feel sorry for him.” you tut, pinching the smooth of wanderer's palm. you wisely decide not to comment on how he immediately interlocks hands with you.

you snicker. “and he was only asking for advice on his research topic, silly.”

“hah! how nice — you're defending him now.” it's incredible how wanderer has the uncanny ability to be just like an annoyed cat that dunked itself into a bucket of cold water; and the way he frowns at you only makes you let out an even worse fit of laughter.

wanderer drinks in the sound, resonating it with the beat of his soul, your laugh the heartbeat echoing deep within his veins. he is reduced to nothing with you—with you, his face relaxes; wanderer may be indifferent to humans, but with you, your mere existence is enough for him to falter like a human, weaken like a human.

and weakly, perhaps in an attempt to save face, he speaks, “you didn't deny it.”

“deny what?”

“...defending him.” (if he were a cat, his ears would definitely fall flat right now).

you let out another light laugh, but sparing your lover the torment, you cling to the side of his arm instead.

“i never had such intentions.” stating it quite firmly, “i'm only saying that there's no competition to be made, darling.”

he gives you a skeptical look in return. “was there even any?”

“none at all.” you lean closer to him, and the wanderer leans into the touch of your hand on his cheek. “since you're winning.”

the flustered blush you receive and the subconscious squeeze of his hand in yours conveys all you need to say.

that did the trick. wanderer's smile is satisfied—smug. “clearly, you managed to make the right call for once.”

“well, i could hardly resist you.”

afterwards, you note that the wanderer's pace doesn't seem as fast as usual anymore. no matter the jaw dropped stares of others at the two of you cozying up together, he never let go of your hand once.

(the next day, kimiya comes to you with a sheepish smile saying that he'd like to focus on his own without your help.

“was it your doing?” you look at the wanderer by your bedside table fastening his vision in pace, voice deadpanning.

“hah? why would i waste my time over some insignificant mortal?” he replies, but as he's putting on his hat, you see him smile to himself.

that little...)

# observation three: secretly? protective/considerate (green flag!!)

if you ask anyone who knows the wanderer on a personal note, you'd find out that he is, indeed, quite considerate—hidden underneath alllll that snark and aloofness and haughtiness, the wanderer cares for those who have helped him in some way, and with you as his partner (romantic), that care is multiplied tenfold hundredfold.

this quality of his, despite being endearing on paper and practice, is reminiscent of that of an aggressive mother hen; if you count wanderer as a hen that pecks someone incessently to show his care.

he chides you like an exasperated young maiden, but the soft way he handles your bruised arm littered with injuries from your recent run in with some strange fontainian seahorse contradicts his harsh scoldings.

(“bested by a fish? are you serious?”

“excuse you, i needed to get it's horns for materials, okay?!”

“...remind me why i'm stuck with an idiot for a companion.”

“uh, because i have a great personality, and you love me?”

“a decision i've made that's quite hard to defend, honestly.”

you stick your tongue out at him. yes, his habits also become yours.)

or how he tells you you're hopeless at cooking, but always manages to excuse himself to cook for you the moment he notices even the slightest decline in your health. one concern though; he throws the bento towards your head—so minus points for domesticity. (...he has cut heart shapes into the vegetables before and has never been the same since.)

if there's anything you can count wanderer for, he will do it. you could ask him to attempt to pluck the very fabric of reality for you, string together the stars and leave them at your feet, and he will do so, huffing all the while (he never means it). he's just smitten like that; not that he would ever verbalize it—yet. his hushed and vulnerable whispers of asking you to let him stay by your side are your closest road to his admittance.

he will not serenade you with ‘shallow declarations of love,’ as he tells you, but you know that he will always be there for you, for better or for worse.

—☆★☆—

fury is an emotion wanderer was once very accustomed to—it reminds him of electric violet, of three betrayals and of yearning for a constitution he was never fated to reach.

and fury tugs at the strings of his being the moment he sees the droplets of tears fall from your eyes, blurring your vision.

“who did it?” something bitter and violent manifests in his countenance, his vision pulsing angrily with gales threatening to harm. (it does not harm you, though. it never does.) “who did this to you?”

his grip on your shoulders tightens the more you refuse to answer, both from anger and fear. you're never this silent; and his panic increases when you opt to bury yourself in his neck. wanderer sighs.

“hey. i'm asking who made you cry like this, idiot.”

“...”

“fine, i won't call you an idiot, then.” but impatient way he speaks the syllables that make your name betrays his worry. “just talk to me.”

“...can we just stay here like this?”

“....”

“sorry, that was a little-” you say, voice strained, pulling away; but the wanderer tugs you close, allowing you to hide from the world that seems so out to get you. (he knows that feeling well, after all.)

it's he who entangles himself with you, listening to the steady rise of your heartbeat, wiping away your tears.

“i didn't say you couldn't hug me, stupid. it's fine. do as you like.”

if it were a person that did this to you, that would've been better murder was never really out of the table with him, but when faced with something he is unable to solve for you; whether it be a bad day, bad luck, or even something he cannot control, wanderer finds himself at a loss.

because the concept of love, with you, is foreign—terrifying, even. betrayal and scorn were his guiding compass, and to be rid of it and to be seen by you, held by you, and to know that you were not going to follow in the footsteps of those he once clung to was far too good to believe. (yet he tries. for you.)

returning your embrace only passively, he tries to scramble for words of comfort—and when he fails to find the nerve to do so, he does the only thing he can allow himself to do.

with the kindness and gentleness he fostered (still fosters, thanks to you) from his memories as the kabukimono, the wanderer holds you, if only to remind himself of his place by your side, unchanging and adamant—as you remind him of his place beside yours.

he leads you to calm yourself down, albeit roughly as he tells you to stop fussing over trying to help him get you something wipe your tears with—and for all his flushed visage, he lets you cling to him, seeking his comfort.

i'm here, it goes unsaid. wanderer knows you'd pick up on it anyway. please talk to me.

(“if i die from this, i'll come haunt you as a ghost.” you shake like a leaf in his arms, clutched tight and staring at anywhere but the ground. who comforts someone by putting them almost 80 feet up in the air? heights are so not your thing.

“like i'd let you.” wanderer says, rolling his eyes. “and you're shaking too much. just keep your eyes on me, will you?”

“...was that flirting?”

“i will drop you.”

“wait, i'm kidding!” a particular breeze leaves you in goosebumps, with wanderer tightening his grip on you. “don't let me fall, please?”

“are you stupid?” he snaps, but urges you to look at the sight of the sunset on the horizon. his hold is more gentle this time, too. “why would i let you fall? now stop shaking and hold on to me.”

you think you fell just a little harder for him that day.)

—and if you decide to press a kiss to the back of his nape as a way of thanks, you're rewarded with a playful gale and a little zap to deter you in response.

“watch it, [name].” he says, but the shifty eyed way he doesn't meet your eyes isn't fooling anyone here; neither is the red on his cheeks. “you're too close.”

“hehe, sorry, sorry, couldn't resist.”

nonetheless. he supposes the growing smile on your face in place of your tears are sufficient payment for wanderer's efforts. hmph.

he'll let it slide for today.

(he does a lot of that when it comes to you.)

# deciding conclusion: totally in love with you (real not clickbait)

saying it outright: being with the wanderer is not a smooth road. it is full of hardships, hurt, and learning. there will be many times when his built in self destruction (read: abandonment issues) will kick in, hurting you in the process.

getting him to say ‘i love you’ will seem impossible at first, and there will be times when his doubt pierces your heart and renders it tattered to pieces. he's doing his best chat, pls help him

he will not be able to utter sweet words of adoration like you do, or return your embrace as easily as you would with him—and there will be many moments when he will feel as if he's not enough.

but nourish your affections, stay consistently by his side, show him that he is worth loving, worth staying for, and like the foundations of a steadily built tower, his trust and love for you too will grow.

(it will sometimes feel tiring, it will feel hopeless, and it's more than what you've bargained for, but it will all be worth it in the end.)

because you know he cares; it's in the way his expression morphs into helplessness when he sees your face fall in an argument, how he doesn't push you away when you kiss him and shower him with hugs, and when his hands lock tightly in yours in a sea of people, with you only in his sights. how his eyes betray him to look at you with fondness and warmth.

(it's wordless whenever wanderer decides to hold you tight at night, hugging you like his last lifeline. especially after a disagreement, with only the quietude of the night to observe.

he said some hurtful words today. that much he knows.

“are you asleep?” his voice is muffled against your shirt, and he may not need to breathe, but he inhales your scent anyway, memorizing the sight of you in his arms like a promise. “...you probably are.”

silence. “i'm sorry.”

“.....”

his lip trembles, his grasp on your arms bruising if not for your non-awareness. there's a wetness growing against your shirt, and small sniffles.

“i'm sorry.” and gently, so gently, wanderer presses his forehead against your shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of your body. “i shouldn't have snapped at you and told you those sorts of things.”

i'm sorry i hurt you.

please stay.

please don't let go of me.

i need you.

i love you.

when morning comes, you wake up to the sight of the wanderer in your bed, face nuzzled in your chest.

there are tearstains on his face.)

getting him to be open and vulnerable is akin to keeping a rusty, torn boat afloat; it will not be easy, no, but you know that he tries, (so very hard) to make it work. that he fights desperately against his own clumsily strung tethers and rebuilds himself anew, if only to understand and perceive you—to love you as you deserve.

and when that time comes, wanderer will cling to you, desperately, completely, and make sure your efforts will never ever make you regret giving him the chance to open up and be with you.

—☆★☆—

“what would happen if we ever broke up?”

dropping such a bombshell in the middle of having the wanderer on your lap was not how he thought things would go to, granted how pleasant the atmosphere was—he'd agreed to going on a much needed date (your words) with you after lesser lord kusanali had just graded him on one of his essay papers. (he got an a, obviously)

you don't think you've ever seen such a distraught look cross wanderer's face—aside from the time you finally beat him at tcg (5 out of 4); and you've never seen him look so angry either.

rather, he looked scared.

“what brought this idea on?” he tries to lodge out the words, trying to act coherent. but underneath, a storm brews—his hands are shaking. wanderer feels like he's swallowed a bag full of needles.

am i not doing enough? was i too harsh on them when i scolded them for fighting that damn mechanical desert robot? he's scared. or... do they really....

the mere idea of you being tired of him—sick of him, and ready to leave him behind leaves an ugly, disgusting feeling. like acid on his skin.

perhaps, you don't love him anymore? wanderer panics, senses going overdrive. was it that argument months ago when he hurt your feelings? he knows you know he apologized, and he's doing everything in his power to make sure he wasn't repeating that mistake anymore—but why would you say this out of nowhere?

or maybe it's because he didn't notice you feeling uncomfortable in your relationship? no, you would have definitely told him if so. then what is it? you don't just say things like this out of nowhere so seriously-

“i mean... at this point, i think i wouldn't ever want to break up with you.”

“...what?” wanderer blinks.

“you heard me.” cupping the sides of his face with your hands, you restate your words with more vigor. eyes determined. “i don't think i've ever loved someone so much as i love you. heck, not even close! kuni, if we break up, i might actually never recover.”

and the wanderer falls. how could you even say such a thing?

“that's... you're shameless.” he states it like an insult, but his hands go up to hide his eyes, hiding his embarrassment from your romantic words. “why would you even say something so out of pocket like that? you utter fool. you almost made me think i-”

- would lose you. even thinking it made him feel nauseous.

“why are we still dating then? but really, i mean it. i love you too much.” you coo, and that, in return, leads the wanderer to release an exasperated, weary sigh. if he were human, he's sure his blood pressure would never be normal because of you.

but contrary to his attitude, he relaxes his face and allows you to hold him. lightens up, even. you continue, rambling on, “be honest, you know you love me.”

“unfortunately.”

and that brings out such a bright and dazzling smile on your face that the puppets sarcastic smile is replaced by a real one when you huff and smack at his head. (all is well.)

“you're so unromantic.”

indeed, being with this strange, eccentric puppet was certainly a challenge in more ways than one. nonetheless, you know he cherishes you—because with you, the wanderer is different. he's bristly, infuriating, and honestly a pain (lovingly), but he cares for you.

he tells you to stop ogling at his pretty face and do the dishes, yet he never minds the attention at all. he tells you that you were a fool for accidentally getting yourself injured by eremites because you wanted to save some fungi, but follows you anyway and makes sure no one messes with you.

he says he probably wouldn't miss you while you're gone, but is always the first person you see when you return to sumeru city. it's these little things that make you love him, and you know the feeling is mutual—even if he'll act indifferent about it in the meantime.

“hey, kuni?”

wanderer's eyes are closed, serene. once he knew that you were not, in fact, going to break up with him, he relishes the feeling of his head resting on your lap. it was safe, warm, and everything to him; but he'd rather let the world burn before he tells you. “what?”

“thank you for letting me love you.”

....

“...idiot.” is all he says. you can feel him shift to the side so you won't see his face. “you don't have to thank me for that. that's so sappy...”

(and if you ever saw the slight sheen of glossiness in his eyes, you keep it to yourself.)

i should be thanking you. he thinks instead. i'm glad you love me.

so many things pop up in his head for this, so many unspoken words—and he may not be able to convey such things to you; he might never be able to, but you know that he loves, loves, and adores you.

because you accepted his past, his sins and his imperfections and treated him with tenderness and care. and you know that no matter how many sides of the wanderer you have yet to explore, you will love each one.

and that is enough for him to never let go.

a/n: IM CRYING I FINISHED THIS RIGHT ON TIME AFTER HIS EVENT and his growth has come so far,,, so proud of him 🥹

#mhie's spirals #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #wanderer x y/n #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fanfic #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #genshin wanderer #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader

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pampushky · 5 months ago

Text

Mon Petit Doudou

Pornstar! Charles Leclerc/Pornstar! Reader - 7.4k

here it is!! enjoy! please reblog and share and all that lovely stuff! getting your comments makes my day and seeing how excited everyone was for this made me super happy :)

uhhh anyway. Might be a bit inaccurate, I'm not all that well versed in BDSM stuff so if anything is like... a super negative connotation within the community that's inaccurate (besides one character who has bad etiquette for plot reasons sorry)

anyway lmk what ya think lmao

masterlist |

He was too beautiful to be doing something like this for a living. With those bewitching hazel eyes. The effortlessly styled hair. His athletic build. The sweet slur of his accent as he lowered his voice to a sultry level when he talked to you.

But weren’t you as well? Wasn’t that why you fought so hard for your anonymity? That was why you had only ever allowed your mouth or lower to be seen in any stream or video, combined with the concealer that hid away any tattoos or marks from the prying eyes of those who watched you pleasure yourself on camera. Why you never wore your glasses to any professional shoot. It became a necessity to dress so differently on and off screen.

So why did it feel so weird now? Two of you, the same profession between you as you discuss plans for your… collaboration. Charles smiles at you. Stubbly beard and white teeth, a bit of the foam from his coffee clinging to his mustache. Perfectly styled hair as though he’d just stepped out of a convertible. You know you look similar. The soft cardigan slipping off your shoulders. Exposing the delicate tattoos of rue on your upper arms that circled your biceps and danced up to your shoulders.

Herb-of-grace. Purity. Innocence. How ironic for you, considering what your profession had turned into. From a part-time job to a serious career that often ended up having better benefits and more money.

Charles leans forward, whispering something in French you don’t quite catch, making you frown as he cackles, leaning back. Other tables at the cafe look at the two of you, and you can see the adoration in their eyes. You look like the perfect couple. In a way, you are, just not a romantic one. A spoiled rotten sub and the protective, sweet dom.

“I think you should let them see the tattoos, no? I think they would like it,” Charles says, shit eating grin on his lips. “What does the rue flower represent again?” Because he damn well knows what it means, he just likes to tease you.

“You’re impossible,” you take a steady sip from your cup, looking down at the journal that you’d brought to jot any ideas or notes down in. “You are aware of that, right?”

“But the people like it.” Charles leans back with a shrug. “So. To continue…”

If only the other tables were close enough to hear any of your discussion. To hear the things he was suggesting. But you couldn’t even protest against most of his ideas— they were appealing. Sponsorship deals that both of you had been offered. Not only would your audience like it, but… well, you would enjoy it as well. You can’t help but the little smile that makes its way onto your lips when he nudges you under the table with his foot.

“Don’t play footsie with me,” you kick him back gently, making sure to just brush his shin. “Who said it was my foot?”

“Har har.” You roll your eyes, but Charles kicks you again, and you can’t help but laugh with your head tilted back. “And was that your foot, this time?” “Wouldn’t you like to see, hm?”

The rest of the video series is figured out pretty easily. The safewords, plot, who’s going to edit the videos (Max will. He’s one of Charles’s buddies who you’ve seen edit together the most filthy things from previous collaborations and blending everything together with a straight face while sucking on a fancy bendy straw leading to a tall can of Red Bull). You’re comfortable with it all, even asking if Max would be willing to let you use the straw for your water bottle during filming breaks when shooting more traditional videos.

“Probably not. He’s very protective of it,” Charles says sagely, watching as you just doodle loops and loops of ink into your journal. “Do you still use the same brand of concealer? Just so I can have it on hand. The other bottle you gave me expired.”

“Ah, no, ended up having a bad reaction with it the last time I used it,” you scratch your neck and shrug the cardigan back on. Covering up the twin rue tattoos. “I’ll text you the new brand. I can bring it, too, because it’s a bit pricy…”

“Don’t worry about it, I can get it.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course,” Charles looks down at his phone when you text him the link, frowning more so about how you had thought you’d even need to think about buying it. A bottle of your matching shade is ordered by the end of his sentence. “You know that.”

“Tattoo seals are also a good thing to use,” You turn to reach into your bag, missing the way that he traces over the leafy, flowering tattoos on your shoulders. You push a few of the little stickers across to him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Don’t have to worry about replacing or cleaning the sheets, then.”

“Hm. My smart girl,” His praise falls easily from his lips, and he doesn’t miss the way your gaze seems to soften for just a second after it. “I’ll let you know,” Charles snaps a picture of a few and pushes them back towards you. “Stream in a few days then? Don’t forget the collar, mon chou,”

You just laugh, leaning back in your seat while finishing your tea. Like you haven’t been discussing an upcoming scene that will take place in your next shoot with your dom over coffee. How you’ll split the costs and whatever monetization comes from the videos, while also letting him spoil you with the tea and pastries you love. It’s almost like a date. Perhaps in another life, it would be such an innocent thing, and not the planning of a semi-niche porn live stream.

Charles trails kisses down your neck, letting his stubble brush against you, chuckling as your skin flushes, leaving a wake of goosebumps and heated skin under his lips. The camera is on, but you don’t exactly see it, most of your face is pushed out of frame with how you’re lying across his lap.

“Are you going to be good, mon chou?”

One of his hands rubs softly on your back, while you’re laid across his lap. You’re face down, and you know you’re positioned in a way so that the viewers will be able to see all of your body. You squirm gently, and nod, trying to tilt your head back so that you’ll be a bit closer to his face. You lay so that you’re facing away from the camera. Your tattoos have been carefully covered with a mix of concealer and tattoo patches. It’s warm, and you feel safe, your mind fuzzy as you slip into subspace. Your hair falls in small waves around the duvet, like a halo.

Sitting comfortably against your neck is your newest collar. A lovely burgundy leather with brass d-rings and pressed eyes that have been carefully polished to shine. A few pendants hang off the D-ring, little gifts from Charles to you. The inside of the collar itself is lined with soft velvet, made to stop the skin from chaffing. Admittedly, Charles had splurged on it for you, wanting you to have only the best as he worshiped you.

“Uh uh uh,” His hand moves to cup the small of your back to stop your squirming. “Doudou, they want to see you. Don’t move so much,” He looks over at the screen, where a few messages are beginning to pop in. A few donations pop onto the stream’s overlay, displayed for all to see, along with the chat on the side, displayed by one of his other monitors.

ugh she’s so cute (€5) Is that a new collar? Looks so cute on her!! (€10) awww!! she’s getting so excited!! happy to see you both <3 (€20) Such a good girl, listening so well already (€5) Make her answer the question. Give a sub an inch and they’ll take a mile. (€50)

Charles frowns at one of the more recent messages in the chat. Very rarely did he ever need to punish you for being a brat or acting out of turn. Whenever he did do this, it was always scripted for the viewers. Played up, and a rare event that usually came after a request was put in for it, along with a substantial amount of money. But fifty euros is nothing close to what would substantiate any punishment, so he brushes over it and smiles at the chat as more tips and excited messages drop in.

“Oh, mon chou, they’re so happy to see you again,” Charles whispers, watching as the viewer count starts to grow as people tap on the notification that you’ve both gone live. More comments in the chat pour in. “Yes, she’s been so good lately, haven’t you, ma moitié?”

He runs a hand up and down your back, and then gently squeezes the swell of your ass. You squirm a little bit again and make a needy noise rather than answering.

Make her answer. She seems like a bit of a spoilt sub, needs a reminder of who’s in control. (€50)

The message donation floats on the stream overlay for a few seconds, before being replaced by more donations. The chat is a mix of more praise and excitement along with a handful of confused ‘???’ about the last donation message. It’s the same username as the other donation that had confused him a bit. His mouth quirks down into a frown before he quickly masks it with a little smirk as he looks down at you.

“Doudou, have you been good?” Charles whispers softly in your ear, leaning down to ask you. His stubble brushes over your skin, and he gently rubs your lower back, encouraging you to speak. “They want to hear your sweet voice, bébé.”

“Uh–huh,” you mumble out, starting to squirm again. “Been good, sir.”

“Yes or no, bébé,” Charles gently reminds you, his touch still reverent around your skin as you lay across his lap, stomach facing down. “I know you have, but our lovely friends watching you don’t.”

“Y-yes, been so good,” your voice is soft, and his heart melts. Charles is already a very soft dom towards you. Never pushing. Never raised his voice. He doesn’t like using any crops or toys that can verge on pain. That’s just what the relationship between the two of you had become.

she’s so cute!! Aaksfhasl so so good for us!! I just wanna see her cute little face (T^T) She’s so eager to please!!

The chat is a blur at this point. Mostly compliments for your good behavior and how eager you appear to be to start the steam. Lovingly, Charles rubs your back again. Kisses the top of your head, and then gently starts to finger you open, prepping you for what you’d both discussed for today’s streams.

“There’s a bunch of toys we’ve gotten today,” Charles leans back to grab the little basket of toys, reading out their names and the slightly dry sponsor segments he knows he has to read. He lifts each one to show the camera, and you press your legs together with a whine as he reads out the descriptions the sponsors had given him for each toy.

He tilts his head back to laugh a little bit at your desperation and softly kisses the small of your back.

“You should have seen her the other day,” Charles looks at the camera, while you let out little squeaks. You’re still on his lap and trying your best to keep still as he gently pumps in and out of you with his ring and middle fingers. “She was so good. Even when she had a plug in.”

Hot hot hot omg

You squirm slightly at his words. Whining softly. Staying as still as possible just like he’d told you, lost in the sweetness of subspace. The tip of his middle finger brushes against a very special, spongy spot inside of you that has you keening into the duvet on Charles’s bed.

“Oh? Did I find something?” Charles feigns disinterest while curling his fingers to press just a bit harder into your G-spot. He reaches with his other hand to grab the camera, wanting the chat to have a good view of your folds clenching around his fingers tightly. When he pulls his fingers out, they glisten with your wetness, and your sweet hole tightens around nothing. “Look at you, so responsive for me,”

He brings himself to a slower pace, no longer thrusting his fingers in and out of you with the same rigor as he had minutes before. You wiggle your rear at him again, craning your neck to look over your shoulder at him with a little sigh, your pleading look invisible to the camera. Just as his lips quirked into a small smile over your sass, another donation popped up just as he pressed the camera back onto its little stand.

What an indignant little thing. Put her in her place, hopefully this helps you grow a pair. (€100)

Charles holds back every childish instance to flash his balls to the camera just to specifically show this donor that he does indeed have a pair, and a rather substantial set at that. You whine again, and without really thinking, he brings his palm down onto your left cheek, the one closest to the camera. It’s not too hard, and it sounded worse than it actually was. You let out a little yelp, and still, your hands fist in the duvet covers even tighter, looking over your shoulder at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“You know better than to whine, you’ll get what you want,” Charles' gaze softens, and he already feels a bit of regret for spanking you without warning. The collar around your neck shifts a bit, some of the pendants hanging off the D-ring jingle together from how you’d jerked your head back to look at him. The little bell on the collar chimes sweetly, and soothingly, Charles continues to rub your left cheek, leaning down to softly kiss you out of frame. You whine, and he swallows all your noises, before leaning back in, looking at the camera while lovingly soothing the skin where he’d smacked down.

To some satisfaction, he can’t see any new donations from that particular donor. He’ll make sure you feel nothing but loved, with the two hundred euros the person had dropped on it. Charles just smiles again, letting his hand still on your lower back, continuing with the stream as planned.

An hour in and he’s had you nearly cumming on one of the rabbit toys sent to you. It’s smooth, and the actual toy part is a lovely mint green color. A very nice one, with several different speeds used to keep you squirming and whining softly under his touch. Small sighs of “—Sir— please—” and “Ch—Charles—” fall from your lips ever so often, and he even manages to coax a loud moan from your lips, which the chat goes insane about. When you do climax, you don’t even have the where-with-all to try and warn Charles. And he doesn’t even mind, he’s always been happy to just let you chase your own pleasure and highs.

You whine, slumping against him, feeling him pull the still-vibrating toy from your folds. Your clit is puffy and engorged, and the chat loves to see how you whimper as Charles brushes his fingers through your folds, holding the camera close to give everyone a good view of your still-twitching cunt.

so pretty now give her another!! Her whines omg Good Girl <3 (€25) Such a cute little sub Wish i had a dom to take care of me like she does waaaa

Despite himself, Charles smirks, knowing his face is out of view while he gives everyone a good view of your slick heat. The donor who’d been provoking him hadn’t said anything in a while. He grins at every little noise you make, especially with how you whimper at his touches, still sensitive. But you don’t move away— you know you’re safe, and that he’d never do anything to harm you. You have safewords for that exact reason, and you’d never had to use them outside of practice scenarios Charles would make you do just in case.

He settles the camera back onto its stand, tilting it down so that the stream can also see a bit of himself. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that hang low around his hips. The waistband of his boxers is visible, showing off the V-line of his lower body, and the happy trail of dark brown fuzz that crawls up his torso.

“Did you like that one, mon chou?” Charles croons, moving so that he blocks the view of the camera, purposefully hiding your pretty face so that you have a bit of time to reposition yourself. “Hmm?”

“Mhm,” your voice is dreamy, and your head lolls uselessly to the side as he strokes your cheek. “S’good…”

There’s no need for you to call him ‘sir’ at this moment. He doesn’t even really enforce the title, it’s just something that slips out occasionally while he takes care of you. It’s adorable, in all honesty, the way that you talk when he’s truly gotten you into the hazy, carefree state that is your subspace, never so much as raising his voice when talking to you. That’s his brand. That’s your brand. Just a needy sub and soft dom pairing that verged on Charles having an obsession with you cumming and feeling safe while he’s there.

The rest of the stream goes about as planned. Charles tries a variety of new toys on you, ranging from a dual-purpose clitoral suction toy that doubles as a dildo to vibrating anal beads that you are not much a fan of, but let him try them on you for the sake of experimentation. It all comes to the grand finale of Charles then having you bounce on his lap as you ride his thick cock, your walls clenching around him as you whine and wail out pleas for him.

“That’s it, mon chou, you’re being so good for me, always so wonderful,” Charles squeezes your waist, guiding you up and down on his lap as you whine out a sound that might be his name. The camera has a wonderful view of your back, zoomed in to specifically see the way he slides in and out of you. Your cream covers his cock.

You lean against him, your forehead on his shoulder as you gasp and pant. He can feel the way you’re loosely gripping onto his shoulders, not strong enough to scratch his skin, but certainly hard enough to remind him that you were here, if the warm wetness of your cunt somehow didn’t.

“Where do you want me? Where, mon chaton?” Charles whispers against your head, and he is rewarded by you looking at him with a hazy glance, just for him.

“I-inside,” you whimper, trying to lean against him further, trying to get him to press his face against yours, stopped only by the fact that he needs to keep your face out of frame.

So he gently moves so that both of your faces are out of frame, his stubbled cheek against yours. Thrusts growing more rapid until you clench around him, trying to milk his cock for anything he may give you. He finishes a minute after, twitching inside of you, and breathing hard as he comes down from his high. In the back of his mind, Charles imagines his cum settling in your womb. Making a baby. Seeing you grow round as the months passed, needing help with simple things. Perhaps it would have if it weren’t for your implant and his vasectomy. Just precautions of the trade.

Gently, he pulls himself from you, still panting. He brings the camera closer, giving the viewers a good look at how his seed trickles from your folds, mixing with your release.

hot!! Eeeek!! breeding kink breeding kink She’d look so fucking cute all round with a baby Give her a baby!! (€20)

Charles pauses the camera feed for a few minutes, gently wiping at your core with a warm cloth and praising you endlessly as you mewl helplessly. The chat feeds into his little fantasy. He thinks about you as his housewife. Coming home from a normal office job rather than a studio shoot with other people. Kissing the rue flower tattoos on your shoulders lovingly, while his hands come to hold the little bump of your pregnant belly.

But with a shake of his head, it’s gone. Because that isn’t your relationship with him. So he turns the camera back on with you settled in his lap, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his hoodies. You’re curled up happily, face nuzzled into his shoulder, hiding everything away from the camera’s view. He can feel you placing almost sleepy kisses on his neck, along with the contented sighs you’re making.

As is the normal routine, Charles thanks everyone for their donations, while also allowing viewers to make requests in the chat. Answering questions about the little break from any streaming and videos the two of you would normally do. This is usually when more of the donations sweep in, much bigger ones. The notifications are delayed, and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees one rather large donation come through.

I’d like to commission something of the two of you. I’ll be reaching out to your business email after the stream, just to ensure that this tip doesn’t bounce. (€800)

It’s the same username as the donor who had dropped €200 earlier in the stream. Part of Charles feels incredibly uneasy over whatever this commission could entail, simply based on the comments they had made in their previous donations.

But if they had been able to give over €1000 in a single stream…. Which was nearly a third, if not more, of the total donations…

You shift slightly in Charles’ lap, bringing him back to the present. You’re still lost, he can see that by the distant, glazed-over look in your eyes. What you need right now is a good bath, a bottle of water, and something to snack on while he massages the knots from your back. You can talk about the possibility of something like a commissioned video later.

“That’s…. Hm, we’ll have to see about that, won’t we, bébé?” Charles grins, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead, before bidding farewell to the stream, and turning off the camera. The donations still pour in for another thirty minutes, and that’s when Charles gets the light ping that everything’s done downloading, right as he’s gotten you to finish a bottle of water. He sends it to Max immediately, who’s already gotten the rough outline of how the video should look. Charles will go over to his apartment tomorrow to work on the specifics of what everything should look like, and then send the link to you for final approval to post. Knowing Max, the Dutchman is likely just starting to wake up as the world is going to sleep. He’ll probably have a mockup done just as the sun starts to rise.

For now, Charles turns his focus to you, watching as you slowly munch on goldfish crackers, as if deep in thought. It’s funny, really, you’re so lost in your thoughts and somewhat spaced out still. But when you look at him, he can see the little grin on your face as he walks over to you. Letting you curl into his embrace.

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Mm. I was fucking you rather hard near the end.”

That makes you giggle, and you look up at him with a mischievous little grin. “You also spanked me.”

“I did.” Charles swallows a bit of his guilt down. “Are you sore?”

“No. It was… just unexpected.” You fiddle with the strings of his sweatpants, and he plays with the hair at the back of your head. It’s domestic and sweet. It could be a scene from the everyday life of any young couple. Charles feels like he’s in the wrong for wishing it was. “It startled me a bit. Nothing bad.”

“Sorry.”

You just shrug, and let him help you out of the hoodie. With the utmost care, he peels off the tattoo seals. Wipes away the concealer. And helps you into the shower, washing away any of the stubborn bits of makeup that insisted on staying behind. The rue flowers bloom under his touch, and without really thinking, Charles kisses them, his lips trailing around your shoulders and upper arms as if he’s worshiping some idol.

It’s the most intimate thing someone’s ever done for you. And Charles realizes he may have just crossed a serious line, looking back at you like a deer in the headlights as you stare at him over your shoulder, with a mildly sleepy gaze. His hands start to shake.

“Why’d you stop?”

The way you tilt your head is sinful. That someone so innocent and willing to give and submit your body to him also looks at him in such a way. Asking such obvious questions when you already know the answer. Entering a relationship because of your shared profession with him could be catastrophic. You both work in such a niche of your industry when it comes to the kinks and roleplays you’re willing to work through that both of you would be screwed if feelings got in the way of your work.

“Because we shouldn’t take it any further,”

“What if I want you to?”

Charles nearly chokes on his surprise. The water is still warm around him. Your hair still has the conditioner in it, just soaking on your scalp as you wait for him to help you wash it out.

“That’s a bad idea. We shouldn’t.”

“But you were just kissing my tattoos.” Your brow furrows. “That’s hardly the porn we normally shoot.”

“It’s— it’s not about the porn—”

“Then ask me out.” You say it so plainly. As if it’s that easy… and maybe it is. “I like you.”

“What?”

“I like you. You seem to like me.”

“I do like you!” Charles blurts out. And then blushes violently, his pale skin turning a vibrant pink-red as he starts to rinse the conditioner out of your hair, making you turn away from him so he doesn’t get any of it in your eyes. He still feels guilty for spanking you without much warning. “But don’t you think this could be weird—”

“I think it could be nice.” You sigh, leaning into his touch. Entrusting him to put you back together after breaking you apart. “Don’t you?”

He can’t bring himself to speak after that. Drives you home. You watch him from the window of your apartment as the rear lights of his car fade away.

The moment Charles is out of sight, he goes to Max’s flat. Pounding on the door hard until the disgruntled Dutchman opens up. He can hear Daniel moving around somewhere in the apartment, talking to one of the cats as Charles stands dumbly at the threshold of the happy couple’s home.

“What?”

“I think I’m in love with her,” Charles blurts out, and Max just scowls further.

“Mate, I could have told you that!” Daniel calls from deeper in the house, as Max pulls the panicked man inside, making him sit down in the cozy living room. Max’s computer set up is pushed into the corner, with a cat tower beside the desk. Sassy currently sleeps happily on the highest little bed, while Jimmy weaves through Daniel’s legs as the Australian offers a slice of pizza to Charles. “What finally made you realize?”

“She— she told me to ask her out. Wait— does that count as her asking me out—?”

Charles’ voice grows more frantic, and his hands go to his hair as he starts to pace in the living room. Both cats watch him go back and forth, while Max settles at his desk, opening the file to start editing.

“Who cares? Do it. You’ve been making moony eyes at her for the past year of working with her.” Max grumbles, clearly unamused by the drama of it all.

“We make porn together!”

“So? That’s how I met Max.” Daniel tilts his head, at which point Jimmy does the same. The Monegasque frowns at him. “Didn’t stop us.”

“You’re both gay.”

“Ouch.” Max’s stoic tone is somehow cutting, even when he’s focused on the screen, pulling up the video Charles had sent to him, and then the outline on the other monitor. “I don’t see how that changes anything. The only difference is that I was Daniel’s editor rather than costar.”

Charles flops onto the couch. Daniel just looks down at the man, before looking over his shoulder at his boyfriend. “And how’d you respond?”

“What?”

“How did you respond to her asking you out?”

His face goes blank, and a look of realization dawns on his face.

“I panicked?”

“How badly?”

“I kept— okay I responded pretty badly,” Charles admits, and then groans right into his hands, rubbing his face in frustration. He keeps thinking about how he’d kissed your tattoos. Had he inadvertently made you feel like you could ask that? Furthermore, were you really, truly asking that, or were you still somewhat caught up trying to be a good sub?

Images of you sleeping in his bed as the morning sun rises conjure up in his mind, followed by cooking together in the kitchen of his flat, and he can’t help but groan angrily at himself for letting such a fantasy with someone who he could call his coworker appear in his mind at this moment. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face as you sit across from him at the cafe, brushing your foot against his shins while sipping at your cup of tea. Your feet up on his lap while reading a book on his couch, pure domestic bliss.

“Fuuuuck,” Charles just keeps his hands on his face. “She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not going to hate you,” Daniel tries to comfort him. “Just tell her you need time to think about it.”

“No but— I was also sending mixed messages,” he mumbles, and he hears a long, drawn-out sigh from both Max and Daniel. “I was kissing her shoulders. I— I couldn’t help it, I felt bad, I kinda spanked her without warning earlier in the stream—”

“Gross.”

“I know! But this one donor was getting so pissy about how she was responding—”

“I’m sorry, you let someone who was watching and imagining touching her dictate how you were actually touching her?” Daniel raises an eyebrow, and he folds his arms across his chest. “Dude. You’re her dom, not to mention how many times you’ve been with her. Why would you get so possessive then?”

Maybe he is a bit possessive. Last year, during a studio-based shoot when another dom had been too rough with you, using your blindfold to practically drag you around the set, and spanking you much harder than he had originally implied he would, Charles had immediately cut the camera and kicked the man out of the room, not even letting him get dressed. He’d gone straight to your side after that, checking you were okay for nearly an hour before even considering letting the filming start again.

That had earned him a bit of a reputation as possessive over his subs, you in particular. The lack of collaborations with any other actors certainly hadn’t helped much either, with your last one being with Daniel almost half a year ago, and that one had been a cuckolding video, where he had posed as the husband watching his wife getting fucked and bred by another man, not even touching you throughout the process besides a scripted kiss at the end.

Now, Charles feels like he is 1.) the stupidest man on planet Earth and 2.) just passed up on an opportunity that you had presented him on a silver platter. He stares up at the ceiling as Daniel looks down at him. Maxis typing away in the corner, and makes a little ‘hm’ noise, likely getting to the part of the stream where he’d spanked you.

“Wow. That sounded bad. Didn’t leave a mark though,” Max hums, and then starts to type again, before making a much more distressed noise. “No fucking way— Dani! It’s the fucking guy again!”

“Wha— really?” Daniel dashes over to look at the screen while Charles stays on the couch. “Ugh. What a fucking creep.”

That piques some interest.

“What?”

“Yeah— the guy with the weird dono? Total creep. Tried to commission me into some weird, non-con roleplay. Wanted to do a solo stream for just him, totally ignored all of my rules for that stuff, and outright told me to ‘Just suck it up’ when I used the safeword for some of the shit he was saying about me.” Daniel shivers, and for a moment, Max looks like he wants to strangle the man until his boyfriend squeezes his shoulder. Charles's blood runs cold.

“What?!” Charles looks over the username again. MattiaBinn. “Jesus fucking—Je le tuerai moi-même pour avoir voulu que je fasse une telle chose avec elle—”

“English, Charles.”

“I’ll kill him myself,” Charles growls, and starts to march right towards the door, “I need to talk to her right now—”

“Or maybe we need to give her time to cool down,” Daniel reaches towards him, holding onto his shoulder and pulling him backward. “She probably still needs some space and to take care of herself after the stream, regardless of how much aftercare you did with her.”

Part of Charles hates that Daniel’s right. Another part of him says that no, you should be letting him take care of you. That’s what his job was as your dom, he was supposed to take care of you and make sure you didn’t experience sub-drop. You deserve only the best, and right now he’s not acting like that. Quite frankly, he’s being a bit of a self-righteous prick about his own feelings for you.

His phone pings with a notification, and out of pure irritation, he considers silencing it, until he sees it’s an email from a frankly disturbing email address. From: Mattia Binotto. Subject: Commissioned Private Stream.

“Oh, putain de merde,” Charles groans, and quickly scans through the email. It’s exactly as Daniel described. Non-con, harsher treatment, and quite honestly, the opposite of nearly everything Charles did as a dom and that you would agree to. Infuriatingly, your business email has also been sent this. You text him not a second after he’s done scanning it.

Did you also get this?

It seems… uhm, interesting.

Attached is a screenshot of the email. You’re awake, at the very least. Alert enough to be checking your business email. He texts back quickly.

I’m not doing any of that.

That’s not the shit I do. Fuck.

…okay.

Sorry, you seem to be in a bad mood.

It’s not your fault

Please don’t blame yourself for any of this, mon doudou

I kinda feel like it is…

I didn’t mean to push any boundaries or make you upset about this

I am sorry, Charles.

Charles wants to bash his head against the wall because now he feels like utter shit for making you feel guilty about his own stupidity. Just as he’s about to text you back you send him a goodnight text. When Daniel glances at the screen he visibly winces.

“Yeah. I’d give her some space.”

Space turns into a week. Instead of the normal collab stream, you do a solo one. Charles ends up watching it. You’ve got an array of toys behind you, most pretty pastel colors or swirling abstract designs that make an odd pit settle in his stomach at the idea of them bringing you pleasure rather than him.

You’re currently fucking yourself on a dildo he’d gifted you, shaped like… certain sweet treat. It was meant to be a bit of a gag gift— the name of it was called the banana split, for Christ’s sake— but seeing you fuck yourself on it made him groan, palming the hardness in his pants as you gasped and whined. You were wearing one of his hoodies too, muffling your little noises into the sleeves. And the chat was loving it, encouraging you to keep going.

And then the fucking donation showed up from that fucking prick Mattia.

Needy little thing. Do you think you deserve to cum? (€50)

The robot voice that read out the message had you whining, and you momentarily pause, before slowly lifting your hoodie to give the cam a better view, showing the slight bulge in your tummy from the toy resting inside of you before you started to bounce up and down on it again, rutting your hips forward as if that could provide some respite for the high you were chasing.

“Y-Yes—wanna cum—” Your face is hidden, as per usual, just off-screen, but at the very top, he can see how your chin wobbles a bit as if you’re currently panting with an open mouth, “Please please please please—”

Hold it. Not yet. Needy little sluts only get what they need when they’re good. (€50)

Rage bubbles in Charles’ stomach. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was, first of all, calling you a needy slut, and then acting like you were his to take care of. Charles makes a note to ban him from both of your chats as soon as this is over.

He can tell by your posture that you look startled, and the chat mixed. Some are telling Mattia to fuck off, while others are encouraging you to listen because Charles isn’t there. You whimper, confused, and Charles nearly screams, sprinting to get to his keys while the stream continues on his phone. He knows how insane he must look, having porn very audibly playing on his phone, but he doesn’t care, not as he starts his car and calls you. He can hear the phone in the background of your stream, and you whine even louder, the wet sounds of you fucking yourself on the toy pausing.

“Fuck, doudou, pick up,” Charles groans, his driving becomes more and more reckless as he gets closer to your apartment. “Pick up!”

The sounds of your stream seem to pause, and there’s a rustle as you move, hopefully reaching for the phone and—

Did I say you could do that, slut? Or are you too stupid to listen to directions? (€50)

Charles roars as he hears you let out a pathetic whine, followed by sniffles. How dare Mattia insult you like that, how dare he make you feel unsafe when you should be feeling nothing but safe and loved. He was going to find him. He was going to find whoever this Mattia Binotto was and beat the tar out of him.

“M’sorry— wanna be good—”

“You are good,” Charles’ mouth is dry, right as he pulls outside the front of your flat, with a half-assed park job that’s likely going to get him a ticket if he stays there until morning. “You’re so good, mon petit doudou, just hold on,”

You’re not being good now. Apologize, you useless little slut. No wonder your dom isn’t here. What a spoiled little sub. (€50)

Charles fiddles with the lock, searching for the spare you’d told him about, hidden under a fake rock right off of your stoop. He opens the door, nearly forgets to close it behind him, and screams out your name as he tears through the kitchen.

Find your biggest toy for me. And show us how badly it hurts. Do it if you want to be good for me (€50)

When he manages to get to your room, you’re startled by his sudden appearance, and so is the chat. There’s a new, much larger toy positioned under you, the tip just brushing against your folds. The first thing that Charles does is cut the camera. The next thing he does is end the stream. A final donation, clearly placed before the stream ended appears on the screen, all the notifications from the tip jar making a discordant melody with your hiccuping sobs and Charles’ panting.

The donation makes him see red.

Fuck yourself. Slow. Let me hear you cry. (€50)

You let out a whimper, shaking, as you sink onto the toy, only to be scooped up by Charles. He doesn’t give a shit that he’s knocking around the toys and is probably making his possessive reputation worse. He’s not going to let you hurt yourself because some fucking pervert got in your head, and he’s furious that you’ve fallen for the same manipulation he did.

“M’sorry— m’sorry, I wanna be good—”

“You’re so good, tu es si bon pour moi,” Charles croons, rocking you back and forth, holding you close as you cry into his chest. “I’m here. I’m here. You don’t have to do any of that. Let me take care of you.”

It takes nearly thirty minutes to get you to stop crying. You keep your face pressed into his shoulder, shaking as Charles soothes you, humming softly to you. He speaks in French, knowing that you enjoy the way his voice sounds when he speaks it.

“Can you tell me where you are, Doudou?”

“In my bed,”

“Wonderful job, so smart for me,” Charles praises, kissing your forehead softly. Your grip tightens on his shirt, and he can feel a small huff of air against his skin when you breathe out. “And what’s my name?”

“Charles. You’re Charles.” You murmur. “How did you get in here…?”

“Spare key.” He shifts so that you can look at him, one of his hands coming to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes under one of your eyes, the skin sticky from tears. “I was… I was watching the stream.”

“Oh.” You lean against his chest, letting him stroke up and down your back. You nuzzle into the collar of the hoodie. Charles presses his nose into your hairline, inhaling your scent, while keeping his lips against your forehead. “So you….saw…”

“He’s banned. It’s the same guy from the commission email.” There’s a hint of rage in his voice, which fades the moment your nose nudges under his chin, dislodging him from your hairline.

“Thanks.” He can feel the curve of your lips turning into a smile as you nuzzle into him further. “My hero. Taking care of me, even when you’re upset.”

“I’ll always take care of you,” Charles’ voice catches in his throat at the admission, pulling away enough to look down at you. You, smiling up at him with that coy grin on your face, and a sleepy look in your eyes.

“It could be nice,” You murmur again, shyer than before. “You and me, couldn’t it?”

“I think it could be more than nice,” His lips are so close to yours, enough so that he can feel your breath against them. Charles has been balls-deep in you. Has fucked into you until you cream around his cock and sobbed out his name. But this is quite possibly the most intimate thing he’s ever done with you. “Really, really nice.”

The taste of your lips on his is divine as he holds onto your waist with one hand, and cups your face with the other. You giggle when he pulls away to catch his breath, and before he can even stop himself, he’s grinning and pressing you into the bed, blowing a raspberry against your cheek just to hear your shrill laughter and feel the butterflies in his stomach that appear every time you laugh around him.

“Mon petit Doudou,” He can’t stop the grin on his face as he kisses all over your face, looking down at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes. Your hair is fanning around your head like a halo. Your smile is infectious. And he can see a few blooms from your tattoos under the neckline of your hoodie. His hoodie. “Mine, mine, mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours.” You respond, curling into him happily as the two of you lay in your bed.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you

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dolicekiss · 8 months ago

Note

Hey,

could you please write a yandere Hannibal one-shot, where the reader is one of Bedelia‘s ex patients/friends and Will‘s best friend. Will soon knows Hannibal is interested in her,( after she met him,while dropping of Will for therapy) and tries to ^save^ her from him. However Hannibal again has his way and maybe it ebds with smut?

♡: ohmygod i was literally about to write a yandere nigel but this is even better, especially knowing how manipulative hannibal can be !! also, i hope i do this justice, thanks :D

Famished

PAIRING: Yandere!Hannibal x Gullible, mentally disturbed female reader.

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+ only, minors dni) unprotected sex, manipulative hannibal, oral (female receiving) fingering, yandere hannibal, mention of drugging, mentally disturbed reader and traumatized, taking advantage (hannibal is cooking up plans) slight breeding kink, reader is very gullible <3 that's all

SYNOPSIS: After dropping Will Graham to his therapy session and having a run in with his prominent, renowned psychiatrist — Dr. Hannibal Lecter, you become the object of his infatuation and obsession. It is in his best interests to make you fall for him, make you his. Whether it is by his cunning manipulation tactics or his alluring charms.

For the first time ever, Hannibal Lecter found himself lost and in a puzzled position.

He was at a loss of words for the immense amount of adoration and awe swelling in his chest whenever he laid his eyes on you — which was rare. As you only came by when you had to drop your best friend, Will Graham to his office. It wasn't in your daily routine, as you had other things in life that required your attention but whenever you were available and whenever Will needed your help, you were there.

Because he was there when you needed someone.

Hannibal’s brain was quick to recognize you though, after seeing an old file of yours in Bedelia’s office, with your picture inside. It had all your details and Hannibal felt as if it was meant to be. He'd read your file, in the absence of Bedelia. Completely out of character for even someone like him but he knew you.

He knew all of you.

The exchange of pearly smiles between you and Will when he first introduced you to Hannibal was not very pleasing to the eye for the blonde male. Aggravated but hiding behind the mask of politeness, he only returned those smiles and then watched you leave his office.

That same night, both Hannibal and Will were restless. Will because he had noticed the curiosity awakening in Hannibal’s impassive gaze when he took note of you and Hannibal laid restless because of the uneasiness felt ever since you had left his office. He had this, insatiable urge, he felt —famished.

And only you could satiate that hunger of his.

“Hannibal, you appear lost.” Bedelia commented, the dullness of her office somehow matching his own. The two shared similar tastes, no wonder he was associated with her.

He lifted his gaze up from the red carpet covering the entirety of her floor, fingers tucked understand his chin. He was indeed lost, lost in you. Like an alligator, you had consumed him whole and he slightly twitched in the seat.

Hannibal had a plan.

This was the plan.

“I had a run in with one of Will’s associates, who also used to be your patient.” He responded, bitterly referring to you as his associate instead of his friend because even the idea of that burned him with such envy and jealousy.

Will didn't deserve you.

Not as his friend, not as something else.

Bedelia crossed her leg, staring at him with certain curiosity. “I do not break doctor patient confidentiality.”

“I'm aware.” Hannibal responded as quickly as he could, eyeing the woman. His presence was heavy and his gaze was sharp as an eagle's. Nothing missed him, not even the subtle details and minorities of life.

He noticed everything.

Hannibal laid his hands on his lap, mimicking Bedelia as he crossed his leg over the other but with much more authority. “Why did you stop seeing her?”

Bedilia scoffed. “I didn't stop seeing her, she told me her mind had healed. That she didn't need me anymore, that she was fine.” Her voice was laced with subtle bitterness at how you interrupted their sessions. Bedelia felt like she was being called incompetent indirectly by you.

That was all Hannibal needed.

This time you dropped Will off again but this time, he seemed evidently upset with the idea of you running in with Hannibal Lecter again. It was weird to you, how he acted when it came to you crossing paths with his psychiatrist. Hell, you'd even made a joke about not snatching the handsome doctor away from Will.

But he only responded with a sour face, definitely not impressed with your horrible attempt at a joke.

As he exited the car and headed for his office, you watched him but then your eyes captured a wallet and a phone right where Will was sitting. He'd left his belongings behind. You let out a sigh, contemplating whether to give them to him now or later. You didn't care that your bestfriend acted all sour at the mention of crossing paths with Hannibal.

He was uncomfortable with the idea of you meeting his own psychiatrist, now that was weird. You left the car too, with the items in your hand and headed inside. Air chilly against your skin, you smiled at how its soft hands caressed your skin, prickling it slightly but you basked in the feeling.

As you reached the door, you knocked on it and waited for someone to open it. It was peeled open and there stood Hannibal, and a smile broke when he caught you standing there. Cladded in a long coat, which concealed a casual dress behind it. His gaze took you in, drank you like the most finest wine and then he captured the familiar wallet and phone in your hand.

He'd seen it one too many times in the hand of his patient.

“Here to return his belongings, I assume?”

You nodded your head. “He forgot these.”

Extending out your hand with Will’s things in your hand, the door was pulled open more revealing another figure. Will stared at you, a look of annoyance on his face when he found you standing there. He'd told you, even subtly warned you to not ever come to Hannibal’s office but here you were. Breaking the only rule that he presented before you.

You rolled your eyes at Will, his behavior abnormal and different than usual was something you didn't appreciate at all.

Hannibal took the things from you and then handed them over to Will. “I'll take my leave then, goodbye.”

Just like that, you were out of the towering presence of those two. God, was it only your imagination or did it actually feel suffocating being in their presence together — especially after Will had warned you off basically to not come in front of Hannibal Lecter ever. The way he smiled at you, it was sweet but for some reason, goosebumps woke up on your skin.

You shook your head, went home and after a warm shower, curled up in your bed. An attempt to sleep, for the umpteenth time but everytime you rested your eyes, that same nightmare haunted you once more. Adding a new digit to the list as it did. Reminding you of the darkness that would always stay within you. Rooted inside you.

The blood soaked hands, the screams, the shattering of glass — it replayed over and over again. Like a film that was lagging a lot, hesitating to go forward, so all you could do was rewind and watch that same scene over and over.

You woke up, drenched in sweat. Chest heavy and lungs desperate to drag in as much air as they could. It was all too vivid, like it had happened today and not years before when you were only a little girl.

It wasn't easy living with the fact that you had been spared by your kidnapper while he slaughtered your friend, right before your very gaze. You didn't deem it worth it, didn't find yourself worthy enough to be alive, instead of her.

If he'd only killed you too.

— ♡ —

The next day Will had told you he'd pick you up from your house and take you somewhere, somewhere where he could discuss something important with you. It baffled you when the man pulled up to his own house, the irony of it leaving you with certain uneasiness.

“Will, just tell me. Are you jealous?”

That could be the only reason.

He stayed silent, not answering your question before letting out a sigh of what you assumed to be frustration. He shook his head, fingers scurrying to fix his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Eyebrows furrowed and curls resting against his forehead.

“You need to stay away from Hannibal Lecter. He is a dangerous man, a sadist, a cunning bastard.” You blinked at all the profanities Will Graham was suddenly using to describe his own psychiatrist.

You had no idea of his little plan to play along with Hannibal to catch him so this whole situation was extremely uncomfortable for you.

“You're making that up.” You accused him, with a shake of your hand to dimiss his accusations. “If he was such a cunning bastard, he wouldn't be your psychiatrist.”

“Listen to me.” Will’s voice was dangerously low, frustration obvious in it. “Just do what I'm saying. Don't linger around him, don't even drop me off anymore.”

The water was slowly boiling over your heads and it could spill at any moment. Tension rose in the room and you, with your adamant personality, didn't give in. You wanted— no, you needed to know this. Just what the fuck was going on and why were you being kept in the dark?

It made you feel hopeless and almost sad, because to you it seemed as the only paddle in your life didn't really trust you.

“First, stop hiding shit from me. I'm your fucking bestfriend, Will. Just tell me—”

The loud noise of his palms slamming down on the wooden table in his living room made you flinch. Your body jumping as you let out a shriek at the loud noise, not very fond of them ever since the traumatizing event from your childhood. You hadn't expected him to react like this, especially with such aggression.

“Just stay the fuck away from Hannibal Lecter. That's all I'm asking you to do, you can't even do that?” Eyebrows scrunched and disappointment swirling behind those specs of his, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his tone, words and his unexplainable behavior.

It all overwhelmed you to the core.

Then a knock interrupted you both.

Will and you turned around and found Hannibal standing behind the net door, his aura slicing through the heavy tension that hung like a knife on your heads. You composed yourself, hands with a tremor reaching out to fix the few loose strands of your messy bun.

You swallowed thickly — once more put in a situation where you had to pretend to be fine for someone else. All because of your own bestfriend.

The fact made you vulnerable, so fucking vulnerable. To the point Hannibal would smell it off you and it gave him the perfect opportunity, laid out on a damn silver platter. Awaiting to be devoured.

“What're you doing here, Hannibal?”

Hannibal’s gaze exchanged between the two of you, pretending as if he wasn't just standing outside eavesdropping on your conversation. It was evident on your face that you wanted to leave, as soon as you could but without Will’s help, you couldn't actually leave. His fucking house was in the middle of nowhere and he was your only ride.

You wrapped an arm around yourself instinctively, a habit you'd adapted to when you were little. In a silly little attempt to protect yourself from the harm you faced as a child.

“Had to discuss something about a case but I guess I chose the wrong timing?” His gaze trailed over you and he took notice of the way your chest fell and rose, how you stood there as if you were cornered and scared, your own arm wrapped around you in a sense to provide the comfort you ached for.

You seemed so perfect like this.

On the verge of breaking.

“I'll be outside.” You didn't even bother grabbing your coat, only reached for the door and left without sparing them both a glance.

The cold hit you like a damn truck, shivers dancing across your spine. Regret consumed you about not grabbing your coat from Will’s hanger but you were too stubborn to go back inside and take it. So you chose to suffer in the cold, sitting by the stairs, staring ahead into the darkness the forest and the night had to offer you.

You thought about Will. His behavior, how he'd spoken to you despite knowing your history and it pained you but as usual, you suppressed it. Your pain didn't matter, how could it matter when you were lucky enough to be left alive while your own friend was slaughtered like some fucking animal?

Knees glued to your chest, you didn't know for how long you stayed there but you felt someone put a coat on you. Your body was quick to absorb the warmth it had to offer and you lifted your head up, hoping you'd find Will but instead Hannibal had shown you more decency than your own friend.

‘Cunning bastard, this?’ You thought.

“Thank you.” You held the coat tightly around your shoulder and noticed it wasn't yours, it was his own. Hannibal had given you his own coat and the bare minimum action, the simple act of kindness, it all was enough to worsen the situation for you right now.

For Hannibal, this was perfect.

You were the perfect prey.

He knew Will would react the way he had — his emotional outbursts were bound to get aggressive and he wanted Will to be on thin ice around you. To make you cautious of him, so that your lonely heart will begin searching for another companion.

Him.

“Your car isn't in the driveway, which means Will is going to drop you off.” He said and stared ahead at the empty space next to Will’s car. “But I suppose you don't really wish to be in his presence right now.”

You slowly nodded.

He was a psychiatrist, a witty one at that. There was no point in lying to the man as you tightened the coat around you. His scent bringing along a sense of comfort. It was warm, a little like nature itself.

“If you allow me, I can drop you off.”

Hannibal extended his hand out, staring down at you and you looked at his hand, then him. It was a moment of silence but help was offered and you slowly slipped your hand into his, as he raised you up from the ground. The touch of your hand, being this fucking fortunate enough to be able to feel you flesh to flesh, Hannibal was over the moon. An itch growing in his thumb to run it lightly over the skin of your knuckles but he somehow with the power of a celestial being restrained himself.

Your perfume had branded his skin.

You had branded his skin.

He lead you to his car and you sat inside, all the while Will watched from his window. There was only so much he could do but he knew that Hannibal’s charm was difficult, nearly impossible to resist. Whether he visited in the form of archangel azrael, a companion or a foe.

He was still going to be in control.

The car ride was silent when it began. Your gaze lingering over the passing street lamps, blurring in your vision as a lone tear slid down your cheek. Akin to the person you were, lonely and isolated.

“I could sense the tension in the air.” Hannibal’s soft voice sliced through the silence. “Are you alright?”

You turned to him and nodded. “Just a small misunderstanding, that is all.”

It was, infact, not a misunderstanding. Hannibal knew why you seemed this heartbroken, about the incident that occurred to you as a child, about Will’s outburst and how it terrified you.

Like a ripe fruit, you were all raw and vulnerable. Ready to be consumed by him, to be savored by him, to get rid of his insatiable hunger.

Hannibal believed he could fix you — by not fixing you at all. A broken masterpiece you were and he'd be damned if he tried to put back the pieces together. He preferred the picture he saw right now more.

“He should not have raised his voice at you.”

Your gaze lifted up. “You heard it?”

He nodded, while swiftly taking a turn into a street. “I did not mean to pry, my deepest apologies. I managed to arrive exactly at the time when he was having his outburst.”

“It's fine.” Your head hung low as you played with your fingers in your lap. Hannibal noticed, writing it down in his little mental diary he'd kept in his head. “I don't understand why he behaved the way he did. It was, upsetting.”

You mumbled the last word, shaking your head. Hannibal glanced your way. “You were under Bedelia's care, no?”

By now, you'd come to know that the two were friends and knew each other. But deep down you hoped that they hadn't discussed you like some curse, like some ugly freak who magically survived a cruel man while her friend got swallowed.

“Yes.” You whispered. “Her ways to heal the human mind are, peculiar.”

To be honest, Bedelia seemed like a woman who cared more about the influence and power she had on you than your well-being and that feeling of forced incompetence along with other things became the reason of your end with her.

Hannibal chuckled, barely.

It was just there and you heard it for a single moment. “Did you not find her treatment appropriate?”

“I didn't deem her fit to be my doctor,” you picked at the skin around your nails out of habit. “honestly, I don't find anyone fit to be my doctor.”

There was silence.

But Hannibal soon spoke. “Could the feeling that only you're capable of understanding your mind because of you going through what you did be the cause of this?”

Jesus, the man was spot on.

It slightly unnerved you.

“Are you analyzing me, Dr. Lecter?” There was soft sarcasm your voice was laced with as you smiled.

The man stared straight ahead. “Maybe, would you mind allowing me to analyze you at my office over a glass of wine?”

You knew you couldn't go back to your lonely house, especially after the remnants of Will’s behavior affecting you the way they did. The sound of his palms slamming down on the wood echoed in the back of your mind and you had no other option than to agree to Hannibal’s offer.

But poor you, it was all part of his plan.

He'd read your file, thoroughly, well aware of your triggers and your mind. How it worked, processed things, he knew it all and the wicked man used it to his advantage. To lure you in like a prince charming only to shift into a hideous beast.

When you made it to his office, the man had offered you the finest of wine. The most expensive one, all the way from Florence and you could practically taste italy in the bottle — delicious, warm and fruity. You reveled in each sip as you sat across the man on his table, flipping through a book about the human mind.

You enjoyed reading books, found solace in them and Hannibal had all the more to offer.

“I can't believe you've got these many books.” You pointed out, lifting your eyes up at the man who was now coming down from the ladder with multiple books in his arms. It was sweet how he was offering you his book, his wine, his company because somewhere he knew you needed it.

Loneliness was a slow death.

Poison so bitter but painful, it tore you apart piece by piece.

He ambled his way towards you, taking a seat on the chair and placing the books right in front of you on the table. “These are nothing. I own a library too.”

Your eyes widened. “You're kidding.”

Hannibal’s heart skipped a beat at how your eyes expanded in sheer shock, his lips expressing a small smile. You seemed akin to a child in that moment, innocent and appalled by the idea.

“No, dear. I'm fortunately not.” He replied, hands settled on the table. “I could take you there.”

“I'd love to go.” You were quick to reply back but then composed yourself a little, not wanting to come across as desperate. You began coursing through the book, reading the contents of it simultaneously sipping your wine.

Then Hannibal spoke. “You seem disturbed, dear.”

You stopped reading and looked at him, with a confused expression before realizing what he meant. Will’s behavior had left you in a great deal of confusion as well as underlined fear. It was stomach churning, when you remembered how dark his eyes were or how angry he appeared. All too similar to the fragments of the man that had abducted you during you childhood.

“He reminded me of him.” You blunted out, not really caring anymore to conceal your emotions and fears. It had to be how vulnerable you were seeming, craving human companionship and attention. To be comforted and reassured that nothing was wrong with you.

Hannibal leaned forward. “Of who?”

“The man who took me.” Your fingertip danced over the stamped ink on the beige piece of paper, gaze following along the letters and lines. “Every aggressive man reminds me of him.”

“Your fear of aggressive men stems from your childhood, as one had taken you. It is no surprise you'd feel uneasiness in Will’s presence now.” Hannibal was right. These heightened emotions of fear and discomfort would only consume you if you continued seeing Will in the light that he had presented himself in.

He was your friend. Your best friend, the man who was always there — to be your paddle and to be your pillar but now you were scared of him. Of everything, the whole situation to stay away from Hannibal. You were right in his office and so far, he had brought you no harm at all.

Only provided you with company.

“He told me to stay away from you.” The lump in your throat began to grow. If you had a gut feeling, it had definitely melted in the presence of Hannibal. Blinded by his charm and his long blonde strands hovering over his forehead. “It was confusing, Dr. Lecter. It was— too much. He repeated it like a broken record, over and over again. Ordered me even and I don't understand why he was telling me to be this cautious when you're his psychiatrist.”

Hannibal and you made eye contact, for a brief moment before you averted your gaze from him, lacking the courage to look straight into his penetrating eyes.

“Will is unstable.” Hannibal stated, as he caressed his own hand with the fingers of the other. “I have no intention to ruin the camaraderie you both have but his attempt to kill me tells me enough about his mind.”

Your eyes expanded.

Will tried to do what?

And the fact that Hannibal seemed so unbothered about it and continued seeking him as a patient. It was like Bedelia’s case all over again, except hers actually ended meanwhile Hannibal continued giving Will his time and effort.

“But why? I don't get it and you're still seeing him—just, what is going on?” Stressed and frustrated, feeling like you were being kept in the dark, you brought your fingers upto your forehead and began massaging it. It was too much for you, especially when you had your own battles to fight.

Hannibal reached for you, his own hand placed above yours. In silent comfort. “Will is my friend, or so I see him as one. He's unstable and his acts of impulsivity are my responsibility to fix although—”

He stopped and tilted his head. “I can see it is beginning to affect you too.”

You sighed, as you didn't remove your hand from underneath his. Only watching him with a gaze clouded in confusion. This was all like plates shattering over and over on the top of your head and still there is no bleeding, only the throbbing pain that increased with time.

Maybe Hannibal was right.

He was his doctor after all. Will appeared unstable, especially after his behavior tonight and the complexity of the situation terrified you.

“It is humiliating to be flesh.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you finished all your wine. The sound of Hannibal’s chair scraping against the floor caught your attention and you watched as he rose up from his seat and walked towards you. In his hand was a sketchbook that he'd retrieved from his table.

He stood next to you, placing the sketchbook over your book and then leaning down. The close proximity should've made you uncomfortable, should've sent you scurrying out of his office but because of how gentle he was, you didn't budge. “Open it.”

Your fingers with a subtle tremor in them reached for the crisp edge of the sketchbook and you flipped it open revealing the art of pencils. Humans, bodies, organs, they were all presented to beautifully and you looked up at Hannibal.

Face a few inches apart.

“You made this?”

He nodded.

You flipped through a few more and resisted the urge to caress the face of the greek personalities he'd drawn. They were so beautiful, as beautiful as him and you didn't find yourself uncomfortable like how you expected you would when laying eyes upon the more —gruesome part of his art.

It was beautiful.

“This is truly spectacular.” You commented in a whisper as you raised your stare from the sketches and looked up at him. Your lips were only a few inches apart and Hannibal found himself completely captivated by you. The sheer vulnerability and raw pain in your gaze was tugging him towards his arousal, undeniable and strong for you.

He swallowed as his dark eyes took in the sight of your lips.

And you repeated his actions, staring at his lips in return.

It all happened too fast. He'd kissed you, hand reaching to brush the hair behind your shoulder, then moving to grasp your face in it as he delved deeper. Hannibal was holding back so much, concealing the animal that he was from you, hiding beneath the cloak of a gentle demeanor and a beautiful face. His thumbs swiped over your cheek in gentle brush strokes as he pried your lips open, inserting his tongue.

Draping it around your own, the kiss grew intense and this was the first time you'd ever gotten involved with a man like this. It was too inundating but it also felt extremely good as you had denied yourself this pleasure for so long.

Hannibal’s hands slithered down to your waist, to circle around it curve of it as he raised you from the chair, lifting you up to place you down on the table. Still your height couldn't accommodate with his, neck craned up to kiss him. He soon broke the kiss, forehead pressed against yours as his warm breath mingled with yours.

“It is not humiliating to be flesh, rather special and profound.” He whispered, in response to your sentence from earlier as you gazed up at him. Eyes clouded by desire as your heart swelled with finally feeling like you were being understood. Hannibal understood you.

The connection you felt with him was intense.

The man leaned, and you expected him to kiss you again but this time he chose to attack your neck, peppering kisses all over the unmarked skin. His hands rested by your side, fingers digging into the wooden desk to keep the monster inside him at bay. He was too overwhelmed by his wanton for you but you were a fragile little thing.

He couldn't scare you, not yet.

His teeth dug into your skin, biting and tugging like some beast and you winced in response. It felt good but it was something you hadn't tried with anyone before. You've had sex before— one boy and he was nowhere near the same level as Hannibal. Just by biting on your skin, the man had you squirming.

“If Will finds out—”

He silenced you by pressing a finger on your lips. “Will shouldn't care. You're a mature, independent, grown woman. You know what you want, don't you?”

You nodded.

He was treating you like an adult, rather than some broken little doll. But that was Hannibal’s play, he knew that you craved the validation, you wanted to get treated like an adult and not some damaged person. After being in therapy, people almost treated you as you were some mentally unstable person who didn't know what she wanted. A broken, deranged person that didn't know better.

Hannibal made you feel differently, in such a short amount of time.

“So beautiful.” He whispered, as his fingers moved to the buttons of your dress. He unbuttoned each, swiftly proving that he was an experienced man and then his hands rose up to your shoulders, slipping the dress off and exposing the bare skin.

Your breath hitched and in a couple of minutes, Hannibal had completely rid you of any clothes. His own blazer soon came off, followed by his tie and then his shirt. Before you could reach for the buckle of his dress pants, he scoped you up in his arms and took you over to the couch. Lips pressed against yours, he bit harshly on your lower lip, enough to draw blood and somehow you enjoyed this aggressive manner of his kissing.

He laid you down on the couch and crawled on top of you, his knee settled between your thighs. You whimpered upon contact with his clothed knee as he traveled down, while leaving kissing against your skin, face buried between your thighs. The man held you open to his lascivious gaze, pressing a soft kiss against your clit causing you to shudder. Your thighs twitched in response and he loved how your body responded to his touch.

You were a delicious fucking sight.

He licked a long stripe across your cunt and your back lifted off the couch in anticipation. Hannibal pushed you back down, both his hands holding you firmly down on the couch, his arm prying your thighs further open. Closing his lips around your clit, he sucked feverishly and you cried out. It felt too fucking good.

One hand released you, dropping between your legs. His fingers ran up and down your cunt, coating themselves in the slick of your arousal and then slowly, he added a finger into you. He was gentle with it and stared up at you, mouth still continuing its assault on your clit while holding eye contact. Tears danced on your waterline, waiting for that one single push to slide down in rivulets on your face.

His finger picked up its pace then he added another. Your wet walls clung tightly onto his fingers, pulling them in and he reveled in all the little sounds you and your body kade. The whimpers you released, the wet sounds of your greedy pussy and the ragged breathing escaping you.

“How do you feel, Darling? How good am I making you feel with just my mere fingers?”

Hannibal’s voice had fallen a few octaves lower, deep and rough. You parted your lips open to speak but the wicked man curved his finger and your lips only let out a gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the feeling. He grinned at your reaction. “Answer me.”

You swallowed down another whine threatening to run out of your throat. “It feels amazing, Hannibal. Just —so good.”

He added a third finger and curved them altogether, hitting them against the little sponge of pleasure inside you, rapidly and with increasing speed. Your hands traveled down to grip on his golden strands, fisting them as he continued licking across your cunt and fucking you with his fingers.

Then he stopped.

Dropping all his movement.

His tongue replaced his fingers causing you to buck your hips in anticipation and need, aching for more. Hannibal was feasting on you and he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He was beyond it. Not possessing any sort of self control anymore.

Fingernails digging into the side of your hips, he dragged them down into your skin as he hungrily ate you out. Tongue plunging in and out of your tiny hole, licking and savoring the taste of you. You were fucking sweet, heavenly and delicious. Hannibal’s mind was clouded by his lust, his ache for you. How he wished he could trap you inside thess walls of his office, of his home and never let you out ever again.

Even the sun and moon didn't deserve to capture the sight of you.

“Hannibal, I'm close.” You whined, thighs shaking as your stomach churned with a foreign feeling. It was going to be fucking intense, you knew it because of how much you were shaking.

He looked up at you. “Come for me, Darling. Make a mess.”

Your stomach clenched and twisted at his words and you soon unfurled underneath him. Thighs suffering from perpetual convulsions and eyes seeing white, rolling to the back of your head. Blood pumping in your chest, spreading like wildfire in your veins as your forehead perspired. The searing pain from your tight grip on his hair only hardened his cock, as it stirred against his thighs. Hannibal reveled in the pain you inflicted upon him.

He rose up from between your legs and your overstimulated pussy throbbed at the sight of him. Your orgasm dripped down his chin, plump lips glossy and covered in the juices you'd produced. Face messy and flushed, he stared back at you with a hazy look in his darkened eyes.

When you came down from your high, you found Hannibal completely naked. Long gone were his dress pants and underwear and your were taken aback at the length of his cock as well as the girth. The first and last time you slept with someone, their size was nowhere the same as Hannibal. The drastic change was slightly overwhelming for you, it even terrified you a little.

He took a seat on the couch, at the end of your feet and then pulled you up, settling you on top of his thighs. Holding you in his muscular arms, the man held the tip of his cock against your hole and then slowly sat you down.

You head fell against his shoulder, face buried in his neck. Being able to feel him like this, sinking all the way down to the hilt, you could only whimper. Hannibal made you feel so full and it was only the beginning.

You felt his fingers trapping your cheeks between them, as he pulled your face out of its hiding spot. Four fingers resting on one side while his thumb squeezed the other. Tears sprung out, sliding across your cheeks and crashing into his digits. You sniffled as he stared at you. Eyes lacking emotions and face still. Hannibal was a man who possessed immense control over himself, he couldn't give away his obsession for you.

“You will look at me.” He commanded, voice thick with need. “As I fuck your little cunt and make you unravel on my cock, you will not move your gaze away from me. Understood?”

You could only nod.

His grip tightened on your cheeks and you winced, lips forming a forced pout. You knew what that little act meant and you parted your lips, managing to mumble out, “Yes, I understand.”

Hannibal nodded, satisfaction glimmering in his dark eyes as he released your face. Both hands now settled on your hips, he began to move you up and down with your help. You gasped every time you felt his cock graze against your wet wells, the feeling consuming your ability to think. Your nails managed to draw blood from his skin but Hannibal didn't care. He wanted you to leave more marks, brand him as his, make him yours.

Oh he was already yours.

“Move, Darling.” You started to move too, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down on him. Over and over again, it was repetitive and Hannibal’s face was full of pleasure. His grip tight and firm on your hips, almost as if he were trying to seperate the flesh from the bone.

But you liked it.

He held you like he didn't want you to disappear.

You fucking loved that.

You both stared into each other's eyes, Hannibal’s domineering stare overpowering yours an you nearly made the grave mistake of shutting your eyes but the little pinch on your waist made you peel them back open as fast as you closed them.

“Don't be disobedient now. I expected better from you.” You could sense the disappointment in his voice and you shook your head, still riding his cock and clenching around him everytime you felt his tip bruise your sensitive spot.

You stared at him, through a blurred vision. “You're intimidating—” You sputtered, the sentence breaking. “when you stare at me like this, its intimidating.”

“Do I scare you?”

You shook your head. “No, you're beautiful.”

That was enough to cause Hannibal to become a mess. Fuck, he was all over the place and unfortunate enough for you, you couldn't see it but the man was a mess on the inside. The skipped beating of his heart, the way his eyes were almost turned into little crescents, the smile lines appearing for a split moment before vanishing.

You felt him press his lips against yours, this time in a rough kiss. Arms circled tightly around you. He kissed you like a wild beast having its feast, enjoying its food. His teeth grazed against yours when you opened your mouth, lips against lips, tongue dancing with tongue. Salivas mixing together, it was too messy and you felt the mixed saliva dripping down your chin. He lapped at your wet muscle, sucking on it.

All the while he slammed you down on his hard cock and you let out a high pitched whine into his mouth. That action alone was enough for his cock to harden even more inside you, his hands now unwrapping from your waist and toying with your bare breasts.

“Such a tight little pussy—” He grunted, head thrown back. “so fucking tight.”

Fingers rolling your nipples between them, tugging and massaging the soft flesh. The searing kiss, the sensitive touch of his fingers against your breasts, the slow and rough thrusts of his cock — all of it combined pulled you near another orgasm.

Your toes curled at each thrust and then Hannibal switched the position, laying you down on the couch and getting on top of you with his cock still inside you. Grabbing you by your ankles, he placed them on his shoulders and began to fuck you at an animalistic pace.

“Hanni—" You cried out, lips agape and tears continuously falling down.

He didn't stop. His bangs were sticking to his forehead, a snarl making its way to his face and that was the hottest thing you'd ever seen. To the point it made you tighten around him. “You're mine. You're mine to fuck, mine to claim, mine to own and possess.”

You took those words as something said in the heat of the moment but Hannibal? Oh he was serious. He meant each and every word, every syllable came straight from the darkness in his heart.

His hips snapped and your stomach went crazy into knots. “Please, please. Harder, please Hannibal.”

You were crying out for him at this point. Your hand reaching out to touch his chest but he didn't allow you, grabbing both of your hands and pinning them above your head on the couch. Bending your knees to the point they were pushed against your chest, his face grew closer to yours. Staring deeply into your soul and that moment felt intimate more than anything you'd ever experienced in the world.

“My pretty Darling.”

You swallowed.

Just his dark gaze. You could live your whole life while being captured in those obsidian eyes.

Snaps growing relentless, he kept fucking you till you came all over his cock. Your orgasm slipping out in the form of liquid, making a mess everywhere. Staining his couch, his chest, his cock. Leaving evidence of the sexual encounter between the two of you in a moment. Hannibal let out a chuckle — deep and soft. Music from heaven to your ears.

You almost ascended to heaven from how good it felt. His cock still thrusting up against your cervix, bruising your spot and continuing its assault. Your sensitive body hadn't even calmed down, still twitching and shivering but Hannibal didn't seem it fit to stop.

A low growl rumbled from his chest as the sound of skin against skin grew, reverberating against the walls of his office. With a loud groan, he also spilled inside you. Coating your walls white, throbbing and pulsating inside you. Filling you up to the brim and he didn't care if you were to get pregnant.

Hannibal was a father once.

To his little sister Mischa.

He wouldn't mind having a child of his own, especially with you.

He fucking loved filling you up and he'd make sure to do it again. After all, you were his now.

The man slowly adjusted himself underneath you on the couch, making you lay on top of his to the side. Arms wrapping tightly around you, he held you pressed against his chest as you came down from your high. His hand brushing your hair gently, caressing your forehead.

Only the fire crackling in the fireplace could be heard, mixed with the soft uneven rhythms of your breathing. You couldn't believe you'd slept with Hannibal, right after your best friend had a literal outburst about it. Guilt took over and you slowly sat up, grabbing Hannibal’s shirt from the floor to cover yourself up with it.

“You're thinking.” He commented.

You looked at him and sighed. “I have this guilt consuming me.”

Hannibal reached over, brushing your hair behind. Playing with the strands. “Why's that?”

“Will is unstable, and I have been there too. I should have heard him out instead of running away from him.” You sighed, shoulders slumped. Hannibal didn't like that, he didn't like that you were feeling bad now. After all he'd done, he couldn't have you feeling bad for Will.

“You reacted according to your trauma, it is completely valid. You were in a situation where you didn't feel safe, so you removed yourself from it.” Thumb caressing against your cheek, he smiled. It was subtle. “You should prioritize yourself more often.”

Somewhere Hannibal was right too.

You leaned against his chest, closing your eyes. Then you felt a stinging sensation in the back of your nape. It hurt but it wasn't extreme, like something had pierced you. Just then you looked up and saw Hannibal already staring at you.

Your vision became distorted.

“Hannibal..?” You called out, confused and in a daze. “What's happening?”

“Go to sleep, Darling. You'll be alright soon enough.” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and fear filled you up. Just what was happening? The man held you in his embrace, caressing your cheek as you slowly lost all control of your limbs and fell against his chest.

Darkness dragged you in, from your feet and the last thing you remembered was seeing Hannibal with a syringe in his hand.

#hannibal lecter smut #hannibal #hannibal smut #hannibal x reader #hannibal one shot #mads mikkelsen #mads mikkelsen smut #love sick hannibal #yandere hannibal #will graham #will graham x reader #duncan vizla #nigel banyai #dark hannibal #obsessed hannibal #one shot #mads mikkelsen fanfic #polar smut #mimi writes ☆

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ithebookhoarder · 1 year ago

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Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far.

A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅

Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans

Masterlist

There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.

They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.

Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.

Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.

Then Eloise had come along.

As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.

Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.

Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.

So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.

“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”

It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.

You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.

She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.

“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”

“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”

“Traitor.”

“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”

“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”

“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”

“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”

“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”

“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”

“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”

“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”

The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”

The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”

“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”

“I told you.”

“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”

“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.

If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.

“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”

“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”

“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”

“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”

“Oh … joy.”

“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”

“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”

“How about… truth or dare?”

Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“

“But Benedict-“

“What’s truth or dare?”

Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.

Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.

By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.

Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)

You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.

You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.

That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.

Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.

“Now that… was fun.”

“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

“Told you it was a good idea.”

You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.

“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”

“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”

“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”

Benedict’s jaw dropped.

“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.

“I have my sources.”

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.

“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”

With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.

And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.

How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.

“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”

You all froze.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.

“Oh, darling. You’re home?”

“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”

“I went for a swim.”

“A - you went for a -“

“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.

In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.

You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.

“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”

“What game?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.

“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”

“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”

Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.

“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.

The silence was instantaneous.

No one dared to say another word, let alone move.

You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits.

If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night.

It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from.

“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.”

A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities.

It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process.

You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return.

Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle.

You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances.

“Is that so?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”

Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.”

Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal.

In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency.

Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.

If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach.

You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again.

You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down.

Hard.

“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.”

“Oh?” you croaked.

You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then.

Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...”

You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...

With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach.

To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.

“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?”

“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”

“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.”

“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”

“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”

You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong.

However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning.

You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on.

Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators.

In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother.

“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”

Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.”

“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?”

“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”

“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you.

You remembered what you’d forgotten.

The chair.

“Anthony, wait-!”

The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him.

No one moved.

No one said a word.

Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”

#Bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #ithebookhoarder #thesilentmage #masterlist #Violet Bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #jonathan bailey #colin bridgerton

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manikas-whims · 3 months ago

Text

Xavier is for the people who have always listened to other’s woes but themselves never been on the receiving end of the same gratitude. He will hear you out and let you cry and rant to your heart's content.

Xavier is for the people who have always had to do everything on their own and have become used to only relying on themselves. He’ll let you do your thing but will always have your back when you need him.

Xavier is for the people who have always been in positions of responsibility. He’ll let you take the lead but will also be there to himself lead and take care of things if you ask him to.

Xavier is for those who enjoy museum dates and book fairs. He will share random historical facts with you. He will read to you as you two cuddle in bed. He will discuss and rave about those minor characters in obscure book series that no one talks about.

Xavier is for those who sometimes just don’t wanna head out and would rather chill at home. He’d order your comfort food, co-op with you on your games and join you for movie nights, and warm snuggles.

Xavier is for the people who sometimes don’t wanna talk and simply enjoy the comfortable silence. He'll lay out with you on the rooftop or join you at the balcony/window so you both can quietly stargaze, and enjoy the serenity of each other’s company.

Xavier is for those who find it difficult to express themselves, who have always been so guarded, who feel a lot but simply can’t find the right words to say. He will be patient and wait for you, no matter how long it takes.

Xavier is for the foodies. He will never judge your weird eating habits and will even join you for a late night snack.

Xavier is for the people who cherish small, seemingly insignificant gestures. He’ll place his hand on the sharp corners of a table when you bend your head to pick up a fallen spoon/fork. One look into your eyes and he’ll do that task that you wordlessly request him to. He’ll twirl your locks around his fingers, play with your hair, and kiss you out of nowhere at random times ♡

this was requested by someone on reddit DMs ♡ who saw similar posts for other LIs..

» MASTERLIST «

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luv-gukkie · 10 months ago

Text

★ little, naive thing ★

pairing: yandere! jeon jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: a small cuddle takes jungkook back down memory lane; a time where he could only admire your pretty-self from afar with a burning need to make you his, an idea your little boyfriend wasn’t so fond of.

word count: +4.8k

tags/warnings: cockwarming, boobie kisses, dom! jungkook, sub!reader, jungkook worships reader, he switches up real fast, size difference, smooches here and there, jungkook manhandles reader, he's possessive, degrading comments, public sex? (don't worry? no one catches them), jungkook gets into a fight, he hurts himself, manipulation, jk lies, talk about marriage ;), degrading comments, jungkook gets a tattoo of..., unprotected sex (don't be silly), reader was his first (for EVERYTHING), he's in love LOVE

notes: hope you enjoy it! i’ll try to post the small writing about yoongi soon :)

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

"no, no, no, no!" jungkook yells with a small smile as his hands covered his face, acting as if he was sad. you sing out a little chant, sticking your tongue out at him. he can't help but hide his laugh at your taunts and the small dance you do behind his hands. you're so cute, jungkook thinks as he stares at you through the gap between his fingers. the playback of your pink character, cat peach, flashes through the television screen as it shows her first through the finish line seconds before tanooki mario, jungkook's character, crosses through it as well. he groans in pain, "i was so close." he can't believe how good you've gotten at mario kart 8. it's unbelievable how fast you've learned. "wanna know my secret?" you whisper softly as if there were people around you; even though both of you are alone in your shared apartment, with the only witnesses being bam, the big and strong doberman, and cinnabon, your cute, tiny bunny. the pair lay together (similar to jungkook and you) on bam's huge bed, cuddled into each other, hiding behind their floppy ears. with the same mischievous tone, jungkook whispers back, "i have to know." you smile before leaning in closer to his ear and before he knows it, he's backing away, tricked and played. jungkook covers his ear, recovering from your surprise shriek. you giggle at his reaction before going in to leave kisses on his face all around. "sorry", you giggle as he "tries" to get away from you, but it's impossible because you two sit together squished on a bean bag.

as he sees you laugh, memories with you flash through his mind. it takes him back to the start of his love to you; all the way in high school.

jungkook has never been social to begin with. he's always been a little timid and shy compared to others, but it didn't meant he couldn't experience the same things others his age were experiencing. puberty had hit him hard. jungkook had grown too fast over the heat of summer. his voice was no longer of a teenage boy, but one of a grown man. the change into manhood had girls confessing their admiration to him left and right, but he's never been too interested in starting a relationship in the first place. it's not until he landed his eyes onto dainty, little you.

jungkook remembers it was the first day of sophomore year, the summer had tanned him a bit from being a life guard at the public pool and he had grown his muscles. jungkook's eyes wandered around the new classroom, recognizing everyone's faces, but stammering at an almost unrecognizable face. the reddish lipgloss you wear shines on your plump lips, a slight blush on your cheeks and your eyelashes have darkened with mascara. it's clear that he's not the only one who's changed over the summer. your hair is styled perfectly with a nice hairstyle that makes it even cuter. but it's the glimmer in your eyes that attract him the most especially with that faint, flirtatious smile you put on as you smile at the boy who holds your hand. the realization hits jungkook, why the fuck are you holding that boy's hands? that boy probably didn't even know you existed last year so why were you giving him such a lovely look? he thinks he's been staring too long when the guy turns around to glare at him and sticks his middle finger out when you turn around to talk to your friend.

shit.

it would've been a whatever to jungkook, but now, he keeps seeing you everywhere since he's noticed you. and it's not fair that your fucking boyfriend follows you everywhere you go, always in your shadow and never not. and it's like your boyfriend feels notices the glances he throws at you and sends him nasty glares whenever he gets the chance. jungkook fucking hates his ass. hates how he's gotten obsessive over you when he barely knows you; when you don't even know him. he doesn't like the feeling really, but he can't ignore it either so he does everything he can to get the little lovebirds to separate for his sake. eventually a small little rumor breaks things apart and he can't help the little smile that breaks free when the gossip he started reaches his ears. its times like this when jungkook is thankful to the loudmouths his classmates have. and it's like the heavens heard of his prayers when in no time, he had you in his grasp for life.

you don't even find out about jungkook being hurt until your lunch time. the whispers of jungkook's name are loud and seem true enough that you dash out when you hear a short version of the story. you're over the top worried for jungkook. your heart hurts, your eyes are blurring up and sweat is building up on your forehead as you get nearer to the nurse's office. when you find him sitting with a bandages across his arms and hand, fists bloodied and his nose still slightly dripping with blood. and even as the dark bruises are hurting him, red running down his nose and his arms onto the once white bandages, he runs to you with a call of your name and a helpless expression on his face. you let out a painful sob at his delicate form, "jungkookie, this is all my fault. i'm so sorry, you shouldn't be like this." jungkook doesn't deny your claims, tearing into your neck as his arms hug your waist in a tight embrace. you promise to take care of him and you do by spending every single second next to him, making sure he's not hurting. not noticing the sly smile he had on each time you turned around because of how his dumb little girlfriend didn't realize the blood on him wasn't his, but of your ex-boyfriend.

you ignore your ex. can't stand thinking about that stupid idiot, much less seeing him so you make a clear decision to avoid him or anything that has to do with him. sharing your decision with your friends so that they don't even speak of his existence. your blood boils at the fact that he dared to throw insults and then hurt jungkook, provoking you further. unbeknownst to you, your ex-boyfriend was stuck spending his time in the hospital. so it comes to your surprise when you do see him, his arm is in a cast along with his nose covered in white with bruises surrounding it. he's practically limping with each step he takes. when you two make eye contact, your eyes fidget to your phone to tried to avoid him. ignorance that's made harder when he decides to call after you. you're firm as you continue walking but turn around soon after, when you hear the crutches hitting the floor behind each step you take. he whispers about how you should leave jungkook; that there's something wrong with him. but the annoyed look you give him tells him you won't. "leave me alone," is the only thing you utter and before you know it, he's taking your hand as your about to leave and leaning in closer. "___, he's fucking crazy." the terrified look in his eyes is more than enough to scare you, but you're distracted when your eyes spot jungkook's pained ones.

you don’t hesitate to run after jungkook, leaving your ex behind in a hopeless state. you're not able to catch up, but following the sound of his footsteps is good enough to lead you to the back of the school. "jungkook?" you shout for him, wondering where he was. "why are you fucking talking to him?" his harsh tone has you in a ruined state in no time. jungkook has never talked to you in such a way, your mind tells you it's all your fault he's like this. you go to hug him, but all he does is move back and you notice that the tears in his eyes are gone.

jungkook doesn't like what he saw at all. all your words are nothing to him right now; all he feels is anger and jealousy in him. "talking to that piece of shit after he talked bad about you, after he fucking attacked me." he gulps before continuing with a lower tone, "baby, is there absolutely nothing in that pretty little head of yours? you let him hold your hand even after everything. you let him touch what doesn't belong to him." you're crying at this point, telling jungkook that it meant nothing and you only have eyes for him. it's in that moment a light bulb goes on in his head; he's got you right where he wants you. "prove it." his demand confuses you, a small "how?" leaves your lips. you follow his gaze before realizing what he wanted. "will you forgive me?" you question, the hope evident in your mellow tone. "of course, baby." you're about to get down on your knees before he stops you, "nuh uh, pretty," his fingers playing around with the necklace he gave you, "it's something else that i want. c'mon you got this, put two and two together." a mocking tone as he talks to you in a childlike manner. it's in that moment that you realize where both of you still are: school. you don't know how the information left your head, but you shake your head at jungkook. "we're still at school kook, anyone could see us and we could get in trouble." you speak softly, hoping he agrees with you. your palms feel sweaty at his request. it's like a switch-up when he stays quiet for a while, different to how he acted minutes ago but you don't notice. you watch as his bandaged hand tugs a couple of hairs behind your ear.

jungkook wipes his nose with the same bandaged fist that's covered in blood and his bangs slightly reveal the dark purple bruise on his forehead. "please." he begs with a soft voice and with his pretty eyes, you're convinced enough. you just can't deny him, especially after he fought for you; because of you. jungkook got hurt to protect you from that idiot you once called your boyfriend, and you can't help but blame yourself for it. jungkook ruined his reputation for a stupid fight. it's all your fault, so you let him get closer to you. you let him back you up into the hidden corner outside of the school. you wrap your small hands around his neck and let him kiss you. jungkook pushes you into him, his tongue is quick to explore your own. his saliva drips onto your lips and leaves it all messy. his fingers go to unbutton your white button shirt, undoing the blue collar. "you're so pretty, ___." he whines as he licks up your neck in a hurry and sucks it with need until pinkish skin is shown and teeth marks are left. it doesn't help him that the school uniform looks so good on you. the thigh high blue socks the schools requires only feeds on to his desires. and to top it off, you have to wear a blue (mini-looking) skirt with the basically transparent button shirt. and he can't forget the little decorations that you add on, which only fuels his fantasy to have you under him. a little red bow you add on to your hair and the jewelry you add on to your wrist and neck. especially the one that's wrapped around your neck, a sparkling j in the center.

a clear memory goes through jungkook when he raises the skirt he loves on you because it's not the first time he's gotten a peak at what you hide under that skirt; he's seen it multiple times, even before you two started going out but you don't have to know that. he knows he shouldn't have looked, but you wouldn't have minded. would you? either way, he couldn't help it. jungkook's eyes wandered when he was around you. he would ignore the arm that wrapped around your waist (the douche bag you called your boyfriend) and stare hard as fantasies played in his head. he loves the way your tits are so tight in that stupid shirt. he knows he's a pervert for gawking so hard at your ass when you walk pass him, or sometimes taking a peek at what hides underneath. but, he also wished that it was him that was hugging you and kissing you. it would be his dream come true. and maybe, it was just his luck when he saw your panties as you tripped on some rubbish on the ground. thinking that no one was around, you stayed on the ground for a while; whimpering in pain, knees scraped and legs apart, giving jungkook the perfect view of your covered pussy. you didn't wear shorts underneath your skirt, it's like you wanted him to see you in such an intimate way. he swore he felt drool falling out of the corners of his mouth at the sight. he couldn't stop staring (and definitely couldn't forget) at how your body was spread apart on the ground. jungkook doesn't remember how long he stood there before coming to help you, meanwhile trying to hide the hard-on that was growing in frustration. jungkook definitely had luck on his side that day, because soon after, both of you would start to hang out more. it was enough time to indulge your mind and heart.

when you both started dating, you both sat next to each other in almost all your classes. you let his hands play with the trim of your skirt and caress your upper thigh whenever he wanted. ignoring how each time his fingers inched closer to your panties. you were so nice to him. whenever you bent over the slightest, your skirt was basically hanging off your hips, revealing your cute little panties. and now he gets to see them all over again. "shit," he groans at the ache in his cock. you were so enticing with your white panties and the little bow right on the center that he'll never get tired of. but jungkook's too desperate, so he is quick to tug down the flimsy material. quickly choosing to hide it away in his pockets. breath stuttering at your bare, wet cunt. "___, you're so fucking pretty." his finger slides against your slit, immediately getting soaked. his thumb is quick to follow towards your clit, pinching and teasing it until he hears you start to whimper. he turns to you around to place a messy kiss on your lips, tongue dipping in to touch your own as he takes off his pants desperately. his cock is bulging and has left a mess in his boxers, but he pushes it down.

a sigh leaves his lips when his cock stands straight, hitting his abdomen. you don't even get a look before he turns you again and bends you against the brick wall. you feel your heart pound in your chest. "kookie, anyone could find us," you stutter out, a small glob escaping your gaping hole. 'cute', is all he thinks before pressing his hot cock head against your cunt. "shit baby, i have to bend my knees to reach you," he snickers out loud. he can't help the grin that escapes him out of the realization; you're so small compared to him. his shadow completely covers you under him, his hands are huge compared to yours and he can carry you like you're nothing. he's about to press in when you ask if he has a condom. it makes jungkook remember his trip to the pharmacy days before, staring at the pack of condoms he was going to take as he left the store. it brings back the sick pleasure he had then, the need to fuck you raw and full of him. he stands back to his full stature as he softly whispers an apology that he didn't have a single one. he feels slightly angered at the silence you give him, but you wouldn't know because you face the other way. "s' okay kookie i guess." he taunts you in his head, annoyed that you had him standing with a hard cock like an idiot just to ask him for stupid things.

it's already a painful feeling as he pumps his cock. the slit on his tip has precum dribble out. so in return he chooses not to bend down to your height. his hands grip harder onto your hips, the pressure causing you to fuss and arch your back in response. a shriek of his name and a desperate attempt to hold onto the wall distracts you as he lifts you up to the height of his hips by wrapping one arm around your stomach. his other hand directs his drooling cock head into your pussy. as he forces his dick in, your mouth widens as a silent moan escapes you. the tip of his cock is thick and hot. you can hear him pant heavily, calling you sweet names as he watches with heavy eyes as he keeps pushing in until his hips meet your own and the tip shoves right up against your womb.

you can feel tears in your eyes at the way his fat cock is nestled deep inside your cunt. the veins that run down him are perfect and his length excites you. jungkook curses silently as he sees his cock getting drenched off the globs of your slimy slick. he's speechless on how good your pussy feels, surprised he's not busting a nut so far. all he knows is that he'd get on his knees over and over to get just a look at your cunt. it doesn't help that you're practically hanging off his cock, back bending so beautifully to reach him, while your tits are begging to spill out your half-opened shirt. it makes him smug knowing that you could fall if he simply let go of your hips. your legs are dangling mid-air as he fucks you deep and slow for the couple first thrusts before completely switching into a different pace. he feels heavy inside your cunt. all you can think about is him, each time jungkook rams his cock head directly into your sweet spot.

your tiny mouth lets out the dirtiest sultry noises he's ever heard. you sob about how his cock is too big. "kookie," you wail as his cock easily pokes and pushes against your sweet spot and cervix at the same time. you feel the heat from his angry tip that oozes out more chunks of precum, reminding you that he isn't wearing a condom. but you're left dumb with your eyes rolled back when his fingers tease your bud in a hurried pace. jungkook feels your walls squeeze tight on him and it causes a throaty groan to leave his lips. "wet my cock, my pretty baby" he mutters. you shake as jungkook continues stretching your pussy hole out. and with an airless moan, you squirt your juices on his abdomen and the base of his cock. his eyes fill with curiosity at the wetness he feels leak all down his cock and thighs. "s-so perfect for me. little hole gonna be gaping when i leave it. gonna stuff you full of me, isn't that want you want? my little dumb girlfriend wants me to fill her with my cum." jungkook can't help but moan at how your pussy swallows him whole, accepting every inch of him in your hot walls even if he's bigger than you can handle. "gonna be my cock sleeve, perfect for it. wet, little cunt s' clenching around me like a bitch in heat."

he feels the heat crawl up to his face, and it doesn't help that the sweat on his forehead makes his hair stick to his face. he smells your perfume as it begins to stick on him and he fucking loves it. loves that he can grab a full fist of your hair and the only thing you'll do is cry out his name and wet his cock over and over as he goes faster. jungkook leans down to place sloppy kisses down your back, nearing your ear to whisper dirty words that have your cunt clenching tighter around him. the moans you let loose are loud and messy, forgetting your still in school. "people should see how good my baby takes cock, can't compare with no one else, right?" a question you don't answer, or can barely make out with how loud your ass smacks against him. "pussy so filthy and tight, ready to take my cock at anytime and anywhere." you're about to release all over again when jungkook stops to slowly pull back his hips. you whine in frustration, but soon forget when he drags his cock back into your cunt, making sure you feel each vein and curve.

the breathy whines you let out almost drown out the lewd squelches of the bottom of his shaft meeting your bare pussy. jungkook can't hold back the huff, "oh, fuck yes. cute cunt leaking just for me, sucking me right back in," his jaw clenches at how wet you are. each time he sank further, his pace began to pick up with an impatient desire to fuck you harder. "my good girlfriend, s' pretty when she's desperate for cock, my cock." he says mockingly.

"i'm gonna cum," you gasp out with each word. jungkook's fingers make their way to your lips, passing them to reach your tongue. "me too," is all he says before pulling out once more to turn you around and place you right back on his cock. "you look s' fucked out, baby," he whispers with a smug smile on his face, "pussy gonna be nice and stuffed with my cum, yeah?" he's quick to connect your lips together as you squirt from the overstimulation, hiding his desperate groans. you feel his cock spill warm loads of his cum inside you. small curses coming out of his mouth as he continues to runt against you, slobs of cum still leaking into you. you moan at the globs of cum slide down your inner thighs and onto the ground. his voice is soft when he talks to you and carefully holds you onto him. "you're so good to me; my good girlfriend, yeah?" he ignores the way you trace his dark bruises and brushes your hair out. he'll never let that stupid fuck get close to you again. it's not that he's scared of him, but rather of what nonsense he's gonna say. it's best if you don't know that jungkook started the fight, that he went home and hurt himself to make the bruises etched into his skin; smacking his head against the wall until he bled and couldn't think of anything but you and slammed one of his dad's metal tools against his hands to have you next to him, cause jungkook would really do anything for you.

"jungkook, what are you thinking about?" your voice breaks him out of train of thought, "about us." he responds without hesitation, because really, when is he not. his hands rub your waist, slowly taking you onto his lap. you smile at him and it's like he's in love all over again with you. and he hopes you feel the same as he takes his left hand into yours, "i want us to be together forever, ___." you watch the way his doe eyes show you all the love he has for you. you're lucky you've always had jungkook be this affectionate. he's always willing to take you out to a restaurant on late nights, picnics almost every week during the summer, and it's always refreshing to be with him. never once has he failed you, so you can't help the heart-warming feeling in you right now, watching a smile break through his face when you agree with him. "i've loved you from the very start, and i can't wait until we start a new chapter together," he pauses for a while, holding you tighter against his chest, "and you know that i've always wanted to put a ring on your finger, and if you're ready, i'll be more than happy to give you any ring you want." your lips find their way to his as you kiss him with everything you have, "i love you jungkook."

he doesn't even have a chance to respond before you're kissing him again, because you know that he does love you. it's in his eyes; his smile; in everything he does. you're shown love through every gesture he does, like the tattoo he surprised you with last week. big, pretty letters that are deeply inked into the skin of his chest for eternity. these pretty letters that make your name and are surrounded by the soft-feathered wings of beautiful angels. his tattooed hands dig into your hips, angling you on top of his hardened cock. his hand grabbing your jaw, squishing your cheeks and lips as you move your loose shorts to the side. with a harsh tug, jungkook's sweatpants end up at his knees. there's a big pearl of precum on his head, slightly leaking down his base. at the sight, you feel your cunt pulse. jungkook's hands massage your ass as he makes his way back up to unclip your bra. jungkook pumps his cock with your hands, cooing at how small they are. he pushes himself inside your swollen cunt, and it's hard to control himself when your tiny cunt violently clamps around his thick base, taking all of him in. you're moaning desperately into his ear distracting him from your painted nails leaving deep red marks on his abdomen. his lips wrap themselves around you tits, leaving trails of saliva behind before kissing the spots.

"faster, kookie," you cry out as you feel your orgasm at the pit of your stomach. your ass repeatedly meets his pelvis with a burning pain. you're begging for release when his thumb plays with your nub and his mouth is sucking your tits. "little hole dripping all around me, ain't that right baby," a shaky gasp he lets out while his cock makes you reach your high. tears roll down your cheeks at the overstimulation when he grinds himself into your sopping cunt. "gonna make a mess in this pussy," he groans before shoving his warm load deep inside your sore cunt. a little gasp escapes your mouth at how stuffed your tummy is.

just as your hands begin to slide off his shoulders, ready to fix yourself up, jungkook pulls you in close enough that your chest is touching his. you can't even speak when he begins to softly pound into your spent pussy which has you whimpering. there's a cocky grin on his face that you want to wipe off, but it's hard when your oversensitivity makes you weak. with a faint call of his name, jungkook finally halts his sensual motions with a replaced giddy smile, "i love having you in my arms."

as the minutes past, he takes note of your sleepy head dozing off into his neck. jungkook envelopes you into a cozy cuddle as he watches the blarring tv whilst his racing mind drags on with repeated memories of the past; haunting reminders that should never be brought up. he digs his head into your hair, fingers gently kneading into your scalp making his beating heart calm its pace. everything he's done was for you. the thing is jungkook can't limit himself when he's around you. it's a suffocating feeling that indulges every ounce of his body. it fills him with a need to protect you, and it makes him go mad in the head sometimes. it causes him to commit foolish acts of violence against those who he thinks have a role in your life. though, he's gotten better with the persistent idea of becoming a better man for you; a better future husband; a better future father. jungkook's lips turn up at the ends at the sleepy noises you make. "i love you."

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