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pellucid-constellations · 7 months ago

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If It All Fell (6)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Angst, PINING

a/n: Sorryyyy for the wait <3 As a lot of you know I have been going through it lately, but I really enjoyed writing this and hope to post more immediately 🤜. Let me know what you think :))

Part 1 ♡ Part 2 ☆ Part 3 ✶ Part 4☼ Part 5 ☁ Part 7 ☆

Series Masterlist

Day Court was immeasurably beautiful—with all of its pristine columns reflecting orange light. Marble flooring shone with distorted images of acrylic brush strokes that hung on granite walls. Fountains billowed at the mouth of every doorway, sculpted fixtures at their bases. Warm wind kissed your skin and glistening waters welcomed you and Day Court was so incredibly beautiful.

You were sure, if given the chance, you would think the same of its residents.

Unfortunately, you were not given the chance to come to that conclusion.

“The High Lord is in a meeting. He sends his apologies for not meeting you upon your arrival—the merchants of Day can get a bit rowdy,” the servant laughed. “I can show you to your rooms in the meantime.”

“Rooms?” Rhysand posed. You attempted to look over Azriel’s wing to gauge the conversation, but Cassian took another step to the side, halting your movement.

“Yes, Helion informed us that the four of you would be here, so we prepared four rooms. If that’s not—”

“Three rooms will suffice, thank you,” your High Lord drawled.

The servant squeaked, and you were sure if you could see her, her nerves would be evident. “Of—of course, High Lord. I assume Lady Y/n will be with—”

“We will deal with the division of our rooms on our own. Thank you…”

“Amira,” the servant offered. “My name is Amira. I will be attending to you, Lady Y/n, during your time here.”

You knocked your head to the side, brushing Cassian’s bicep as he stood beside you. You barely caught Amira’s mousey brown hair before the membrane of a wing flushed out and pushed you back.

“She doesn’t need an attendant,” Azriel bit out, misplaced malice creating tension in the hall.

“Oh, it’s okay, I—”

Apparently, not even your voice was allowed to be heard. Rhysand cut you off. “No attendant,” he confirmed, after sending his spymaster a sidelong glance laced with reproach. “No servants in our rooms, either. We are rather private, you understand.”

A pause.

You wished you could see anyone’s expression.

From beside you, Cassian offered you a pity smile, nudging you with his elbow in an act of comfort.

“Anything you require,” Amira shakily responded. “Shall I walk you back, then? Just to show you where you will be staying?”

“Lead the way.”

Azriel immediately stepped back, his shadows scrambling past him to enclose you in dim light. You felt his presence, firm and tall, looming at your back as you took the first few steps down the hall.

This all felt entirely misplaced, with the bleakness of your group extinguishing some of the vibrance of the court you walked through. Cassian kept close to your side, some of Azriel’s shadows drifting off and cloaking the red glow on his hands and chest. Rhys, ever the High Lord, took up the front, footsteps light but purposeful.

Everyone looked grim.

Except for you.

This court held no negative connotations for you, no malicious undertones that impacted the rest of your family. It was simply beautiful, and your family was simply cloistering you.

But you agreed to this; anything to make them feel better.

To make Azriel feel better.

You turned your head to the side as you walked, catching the shadowsinger in your peripheral. Tense, on-guard, unyielding; Azriel’s jaw was set in a firm clench, but it was different from what you were used to. When he was tense at home, it was almost out of… anticipation? Trepidation?

Here though… here his posture was derived from rage. From practiced, honed fury.

You turned your head away before you attempted to fix it, to comfort him. He wanted to be angry, told you as much before he winnowed you to Day in a flurry of his shadows.

I’m going to be different, he had told you, I need to be different. It can’t be like the last time. I can’t let you get hurt.

The fear in his eyes had melted away in the Day Court sun; the second your feet landed on meticulously carved cobblestone, Azriel was no longer just your friend.

Amira led you to three doors along a wall, mumbled a few parting words, and bowed away before anyone could send her a second glance. You attempted to offer her a reassuring smile amidst her flee, but Azriel’s shadows were too dense. A hand on your back led you into a room and Amira was gone.

“That went well,” Cassian breathed, a long sigh punctuating his descent into a loveseat by the bed. “She didn’t look terrified at all.”

The bedroom door clicked shut. Rhys raised his brows. “She’ll thank us later.” The High Lord’s eyes drifted to the shadowsinger sulking by your side. “This isn’t exactly a leisurely visit.”

Your gaze shot around the room in the following lapse of silence, analyzing the tense nature of each male. The air felt stagnant and stiff, the light somehow dimmer even with the open windows, and you weren’t sure if your voice would make it worse or ease some of the pressing emotions.

Rhys took a seat in a chair by the door, and you decided speaking was better than leaning into the uncomfortable silence.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you began, playing with your fingers, second-guessing your decision to stand. Azriel remained motionless at your side. “The sun feels different somehow. Brighter, maybe?”

“The skies have an affinity for their namesake in the solar courts,” Rhys offered kindly.

You hummed, rolling onto your toes and then rocking back on your heels. “I suppose that makes sense. The nights are incredible back home.”

The use of that word—home—did not go unnoticed by the group. Not by you and certainly not by the male standing guard at your side. The replacement of the word had been relatively common since you woke up.

Here in Velaris, there is….

When you came back here all those years ago…

Let’s go back to the house…

Never home.

But being in Day—being away from Velaris—just solidified what you already assumed. Velaris was your home. You were sick of letting your family dance around that truth.

“Mother above, I was sure I would never see you again,” a strange voice tore your attention from Cassian’s vivid retelling of your first time flying with him, and although it was an interesting story, the man before you was even more enticing.

With deep skin and an even deeper smile, white linen billowed around his confident figure. The man appeared to glisten as he walked toward your small group, golden sandals trailing up bronze calves. Even the air around him seemed to glow.

Enticing didn’t seem to be the correct word.

You’d been directed into a rather large study after a brief lunch and a “tour” of the grounds that only included the wing you were staying in. Rhys had chalked it up to Helion stalling for time. You’d tried to coax a more comprehensive tour out of the guard leading you around, but a sharp look from Azriel was enough to put that conversation to rest.

“You look just as you did. Perhaps a bit gaunt but…” The man—Helion, you’d deduced—trailed off when the whisper of a shadow trailed at his neck. “I am Helion,” he smiled. “You have known me for many years. In love with me, as most are. But, alas, it is not fated.”

Some of your awe shifted to shock. “I am—I’m sorry, I am in love with you?”

In front of you, Cassian let out a long breath and fanned his wings out before letting them hang behind his chair. You sat straighter in your own seat, mortification creeping into your chest at the small laugh Rhys let slip across the room. What set your mouth into its flurry, however, was the raised brow you received from Helion.

“I didn’t mean that to offend. I mean—what I meant was just that… Well, no one said I had a lover or even mentioned you in that way so it came as a shock. But I presume there is much about myself I have yet to learn so… you are a very beautiful man and I’m sure—”

“Y/n, it’s alright,” came Azriel’s soothing voice from beside you, his scarred fingers pushing hair behind your ear halting your apologies. “He was only joking.” A pointed look in the High Lord’s direction. “He does that from time to time, unfortunately.”

More mortification made an appearance.

“Oh.”

Helion’s raised brow had morphed into an unsure expression at some point amidst your rambling. “When they said you had no memory… You will have to excuse me, y/n. I assumed you’d have more… context. Especially with your abilities.”

“We told you she remembered nothing and had no access to her magic,” Azriel defended, his fingers dropping to rest beside your thighs.

“Well, yes, but often when magic tampers with the mind, the personality remains intact. Like a muscle memory.”

“Oh, her personality is there,” Cassian retorted, a bittersweet smirk playing at his lips. “Just not when she’s met you five seconds ago and you’re revealing fake truths. Sarcasm doesn’t often work with strangers.”

Helion nodded grimly, turning back to you. “I apologize.”

“It’s really alright,” you comforted, attempting to calm some of the twisted guilt marring the High Lord’s face. “They worry too much. Right now everything I do is without context and I find myself embarrassed more often than not. It’s not your fault.”

Helion did not look convinced or reassured. His eyes simply traveled to the corners of your face and tracked down to the patterns Azriel was drawing into the skirts of your dress.

“Do you see now why we needed to come to you,” Rhys chimed in from above his crossed arms.

Helion hummed. “Yes. Shall I get started then?”

The room shuffled. You were informed that Helion had to be touching your head to assess the injury—unlike Rhys’s assessment—so you were sat atop a table to give him better access. Azriel followed by your side, his front pressed against the table, Cassian stood his ground behind Helion, and Rhys took up residence on your other side.

“In Day, we have a type of healing that extends to magical wards and enchantments, was that explained to you?” Helion asked, kind eyes never leaving yours. Too kind—uncertain and full of reproach.

“Yes, they said maybe the witch put something in my mind. Like a blockage.”

“Precisely. And I was informed about Rhysand’s unsuccessful attempt at entering your mind. That could be due to a spell, which is why I would be more useful.”

Rhys scoffed.

You let a smile tug at your lips, but it was quickly extinguished when you considered the outcome of this process. “Will it feel the same? What you’re doing and what Rhys did?”

You could almost hear the way Azriel ground his jaw.

Helion glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “It will feel different. I am not in the business of thoughts or memories. I won’t be able to access anything other than any inflictions you may have.”

“So it won’t hurt?”

“I cannot promise anything.”

The table beneath you shifted an inch, just to be caught by hands glowing with blue light.

I need to be different. It can’t be like the last time. I can’t let you get hurt.

“Still sure you can’t just beat the crap out of whatever’s going on in my head?” you posed to Cassian, tilting your head up to call over Helion’s shoulder.

The general’s chuckle eased some of the tension in the room. “I would if I could.”

“Promise?”

“Always.”

With a resigned breath, you nodded to Helion. The High Lord’s hands glowed a golden white, he lifted them to your head, and then there was nothing.

Azriel

If he hadn’t shot his hand out when he did, Azriel was sure your head would have fallen out of Helion’s grasp and plummeted to the floor.

You were limp.

Eyes closed, neck bent—completely and utterly limp.

Azriel took the liberty of tugging on the bond just to make sure you were still alive. He hadn’t done so since you woke up in the forest, remembering the fear in your eyes, but you looked so incredibly lifeless.

“Helion,” he barked, his worried expression never turning from your face.

Icy panic gripped his stomach, twisting it with fervor.

Cassian took a step forward.

“Why is she unconscious?” his brother gritted out. His tone was an empty threat; he couldn’t hurt a High Lord, and neither could Azriel, but Azriel would do much more for much less.

His life had become a nightmare.

Literally.

On his worst nights, he relived the time you went missing and the subsequent loss of your memories over and over until he woke up screaming. His heart would beat so rapidly it seemed impossible to slow and he would be inconsolable for several minutes, but he always had you there. He would wake up from that nightmare and you would be there.

He had that dream every night now, and he woke up to the same. The guestroom he occupied didn’t smell like you, and even though you were just on the other side of the wall, he couldn’t make out the sound of your breath enough to let it lull him back to sleep. Nothing you owned was in that room. Everything he owned was still in a pile by the door after Feyre had rushed to clear the evidence of him from your space. But why did that matter? What were books and trinkets and clothes in a room that was otherwise devoid of everything he loved?

Leaving his room was worse.

Gods, all he wanted to do was hold you. To really, truly hold you and for you to hold him back. But you looked at him cordially, the same way you looked at Cassian and Rhysand and Mor.

When he left the house he had to deal with Feyre and Nesta’s constant questioning. Even Amren had taken an interest in your well-being, and while he appreciated the care for his mate, he couldn’t take it.

He couldn’t take echoing the words, “She’s fine. Healthy. Less pain today,” over and over when he could tell what they really wanted to know were things you wouldn’t share with him. He couldn’t take the fact that you didn’t tell him you loved him—that he would whisper it at your back every time you turned around and you never heard. You were skittish at his touch and shy when you spoke and you were never the first to voice your opinion and he just couldn’t take it.

With your head in his broken hand, Azriel felt another piece of him crack.

“I did it.” Rhys broke the silence, a concentration twisting his brow. “Helion and I agreed it was the best way to go about this. It had to be sudden though—unexpected. We needed a moment where her mind was completely unexpecting.”

Cassian cursed. “You couldn’t have told us that before you made it look like she died, Rhysand?”

“If y/n were dead no one would be standing here right now and you know that.”

“Still,” Cassian mumbled. “Warn a guy.”

“I’ve felt this before,” Helion said, shaking his head. “But that’s impossible. Rhysand, you would have—”

“I would have, yes, but not if it was created through other means. It was a witch, not a daemati.”

“She could have been both.”

“Extremely unlikely. Keep going.”

Azriel watched the way your lashes fluttered, counted the beats of your heart and pretended you knew who he was.

“What’s happening?” he asked. “You’re both in her head. Talk.”

“I couldn’t get through the wall myself because it wasn’t her magic,” Rhys explained. “I assumed it was the witch’s, but this signature is too similar. It’s exactly like it was before, just muted.”

“Like it was before?” Azriel repeated, finally turning his head up.

Rhysand looked grim. “Almost identical.”

“That isn’t possible,” the shadowsinger immediately refuted. “I killed that bastard myself. There is no way he could have done anything to her.”

“Azriel, I think it’s possible that—”

But Azriel did not let the High Lord of Day finish his thought. “You don’t speak to me about her,” he seethed. “Not when she came to your court and one of your people did this to her. I trusted you with her. I sent my mate here and she has been paying the price for that ever since. This is your fault, so you do not tell me what you think. You tell me what is certain.”

The room went silent, and Helion looked back at you, eyes glazing as he continued his work.

A strong, steady hand clapped against Azriel’s shoulder. It took Cassian three tugs before Azriel reluctantly let your head go, but only after Rhysand placed his own hand at your back.

“Look, I get it,” Cassian comforted, hands on his brother's arms. “If this was Nesta I’d probably be tearing this room apart right now. But he’s all we have here. And you know it wasn’t his fault last time. You remember how hard he worked to get her back.”

Azriel ignored him.

Cassian roughly shook his frame.

“Hey, you know that. And you know y/n’s going to be pissed at you when she gets her memories back and hears how much of an ass you’re being to Helion. She’s going to be severely pissed if you start a war trying to kill the guy.”

“If.”

The small smile Cassian was sporting faltered. “What?”

Azriel finally met his eyes. “If she gets her memories back. It was an if last time and it’s an if again.”

The two High Lords discussed quietly in the back, their hands still on you. Azriel’s shadows refused to leave your side, weaving through your hair and your clothes and the fingers against your head.

“Well last time she got them back, didn’t she?”

“You truly believe that will happen twice? I was praying to the mother for luck the first time, Cassian. She won’t listen again. I guarantee she won’t.”

“Az…” Cassian trailed off. There was no speech to formulate, not when defeat and resolution were so clear on his brother’s face.

“She won’t love me a third time.”

Your cough had Azriel bolting away from his brother’s concerned gaze in an instant. You were no longer in Helion’s grasp, instead leaning against Rhysand’s arm as the High Lord of Day scribbled something in a book.

“Ow.” You rubbed at your head with a pinched expression, squinting up at Azriel as he leaned down. “I think I passed out or something.”

It was mostly out of hysterics, but a small laugh escaped the spymaster. “Or something.”

Gods, you sent a spark of joy down the bond and it was all-consuming. You did that from time to time, unintentionally flooding Azriel with whatever emotion you felt the strongest. More than once he had to stop himself from opening his side completely just to relish in the reminisce you offered him.

“What about this time? Did we figure it out?” you slurred, squeezing your eyes open just to have the drop closed once again.

Azriel tucked his hand against the back of your head and looked expectantly at the two High Lords before him.

When Helion spoke, Azriel let him, if only because he was still living on the high of his mate’s lingering amusement. “Whatever the witch did, it was a mimicry of the daemati that tore into her head all those years ago. I need to do more research, see if I am able to undo whatever it is she redid without irreparably damaging her mind. If I can’t, the only answer is the witch.”

“Is that even possible? To mimic something like that?” Azriel asked, stepping forward so your drooping head would fall against his arm.

“Witches draw power beyond their reserve and even beyond the cauldron. We know so little about them. Tamlin should not have been making deals with them,” Helion curtly replied.

Any lightness in the room had very clearly disappeared.

“Take your mate back to your room. We can discuss this when she no longer looks like she’s fighting to stay awake.”

“I am awake,” you argued, trying and failing to haul yourself into an upright position.

Rhysand huffed out a laugh. “I wouldn’t even be awake after having two high lords in my mind. Go rest. We will talk in the morning.”

Azriel assisted as you stood on unsteady legs, but the attempt was futile. The shadowsinger gathered you into his arms as you sent an accusatory finger in Rhysand’s direction. “Liar.”

It wasn’t until you were alone in the hallway, your head against Azriel’s shoulder, his arms beneath your body, that you spoke again.

“Azriel?”

He hummed in response.

“What’s a mate?”

Part 7 ☆

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel angst

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

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Tenebrific

Warnings: non/dubcon, blood, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Tenebrific - causing gloom or darkness (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

**for this drabble, I have named Syverson Elijah as he does not seem to have a canon first name

The message was sent almost half an hour ago. You check the time again. Actually, it’s been longer than that. You swear, men have no concept of time.

You sigh and put your phone on the side table. Your glass is empty. You really didn’t want to indulge in a second before Andy got there but alas, he is pushing your tolerance, in more ways than one. After the day you’ve had, you desperately need to unwind.

You get up and the sheer layers of fabric tickle along your lower stomach. Ugh, you should just get out these ridiculous pajamas. Simple is better. He probably wouldn’t even notice the effort. It hardly matters. It’s just sex.

You take your glass and clink it down on the kitchen counter. You pour some more merlot and swirl it as you consider the dark depths. You taste it and the bitterness stains your tongue. You should just reply and tell him not to bother. You’re tired of more than waiting.

You spin and a knock sounds at the door. Too late. He’s there. You roll your eyes and set the glass on the granite once more. You sweep through into the entry way and steel yourself. You try to figure how you should proceed. You could get some steam off. It would do him well to be used and tossed back out into the night.

You open the door, ready to reproach Andy for his delay but stop short. Your hand pauses midway into an accusatory point and you lower it slowly. You purse your lips as you swallow back your surprise.

“Elijah,” you greet the bearded man, overly aware of your current exposed state. His eyes betray his notice of your limited attire. You can’t recall if you can see through and you’re too embarrassed to look down.

You stare at your unexpected visitor. The implications of his unannounced appearance do not elude you. Not only do you wonder why he is there but how he knows where you live.

“Doc,” his voice is grizzly as he rubs his buzzcut, “hey.”

“Hello,” you respond tritely, “you are aware that it is after midnight, Elijah?”

“Syverson,” he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Doc, please...”

You watch him warily as your unease rises. He’s in one of his moods. He’s walking the tightrope and one slip will send him plummeting. Of all your patience, he has shown the most progress yet the most concern.

“We have an agreement. We use our names. Our real names, yes? You are not Captain Syverson here.”

He sucks in a breath through his nose. His hand twitches at his side. The tick in his cheek and the restless sway in his stance unsettle you. He’s about to bubble over. You can’t let him go, as much as you want to tell him too. He’s in a dangerous state.

“Well, come in. I’ll make you some tea and we can talk,” you step back and open the door wider.

“Thanks,” he accepts the invite and you wait for him to enter then shut the door.

“Please, have a seat,” you gesture him into the front room.

He all too easily accepts. He goes into your living room, boots still on, and drops onto the couch. You give him a clinging look then detach and proceed into the kitchen. You turn on the kettle and circle around through the other doorway.

You come up at the other end of the sofa and slide your phone off the end table. You quickly send a message and hope it reaches your intended company.

“So,” you put the phone down again and move to stand behind the arm chair, hoping to block out the whimsical pajamas. “Elijah, what brings you here tonight?”

“Doc,” he fidgets and turns his head back and forth. “I...” he tilts his chin up and inhales again. “I’m struggling.”

“And what brought this on? Was there some event?” You prompt gently.

“Mmm, no... maybe...” he drones and drops his head into his hands. His elbows rest on his thighs as he shudders. “I did... something. I...”

You notice then the split on his knuckle. Smaller cuts higher up his fingers, his skin is tinged around his nails. Is that blood?

You glance over at your phone.

“What did you do, Elijah?” You ask. “Did you hurt yourself?”

He whimpers and shakes his head. He rocks and pulls a large hand away from his skull, only to box himself in the ear. He whines.

“I didn’t want to. It happened fast.” He gulps in air and sits up slowly. “There was a noise. Like thunder. Then it all--” He claps and winces at the loud impact of his palms.

“Right, well, let’s have the tea and we’ll talk about it,” you say calmly as you sidle out from behind the chair.

You subtly reach for your phone as you brush against the table. He’s faster than you think. He puts his hand over yours and stops you. Before you can recoil, he latches on. You repress your alarm and look him in the face. His eyes are foggy. They don’t stay on your face. They slowly scale down your body.

“Doc, you look nice,” he says.

“Thank you, Elijah,” you bring your other hand to pat his. “That’s a very nice compliment. Let me go get the tea and a robe.”

He doesn’t let go. He stands, keeping hold of you, stretching your arm over the table. He leans his head to one side as his gaze roves up and down your body.

“You dressed up for me?” He rasps.

“Now, Elijah, I wasn’t expecting you,” you say. “Please, let go so I can get dressed.”

He breathes heavily. He grabs the table with his other hand and shoves it aside. Your phone and the lamp crash onto the floor, the latter bouncing over your foot. You gasp as he yanks you closer.

“Elijah,” you say more firmly. “You’re scaring me. Remember our exercises. Let’s count and breathe--”

“For me,” he pulls you against him, hooking his arm around you.

“No,” you push on his chest, barely tamping down your panic. “Ten, breathe in-”

“Stop,” he warns as he hugs you closer. He toys with your hand and angles it to kiss your knuckles. Your eyes snag again on his tortured skin. “I just wanna...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. His touch slides down your back and he gropes your ass. You squeal in surprise and slap his chest, “Captain Syverson,” you slip as you snarl through your teeth, “you quit this right now. Get off--”

“Captain,” he repeats and nods. “Yes, you can call me captain.”

He digs his nails through the flimsy shorts and pulls your arm over his shoulder. You try to pull away but he’s too strong. Your fear breaks through in a throttled whimper.

“Elijah--”

“Captain,” he corrects you and once more slings his arm around you.

“You are being--”

He encircles you entirely with his arm and bends his knees. He lifts you off your feet and swings you around. You kick out in shock and wrestle with him as he carries you around the room. He falls onto you, crushing you into the couch cushions.

You wheeze as his weight knocks the wind out of you. He untangles his arm from under your and grabs your face. He turns your head straight as you grit your teeth. You slap his thick arm. You can smell his sweat and the iron of blood.

“Elijah,” you whittle out, “please... let’s just talk...”

The kettle quakes noisily from the kitchen as he keeps you pinned. You squirm but can barely move. He smothers you with his body. You feel how the cushions thin under both of you.

He pushes his knees down and forces them between your legs. You whine and clasp onto his camo shirt. You puff out in short spurts, your ribs aching beneath him.

“I’ll be nice, doc. I just wanna be nice,” he purrs and rubs his nose against yours. “Like you want me to. You told me... told me I can be good. I wanna be good for you.”

“Eli--” you chuff out and your eyes sting. You’re not used to feel like this. To being powerless.

The kettle clicks off.

He plants his elbow and keeps your head locked in his hand. With his other, he feels along your side and plays with the blousing of the shorts. He pinches the sheer fabric and growls.

He slides his hand under you and reaches up to the elastic. He tugs the shorts down past your ass. You whine again as he digs his feet into the couch and lifts himself. He strips the shorts down your legs as you kick desperately.

He feels along your pelvis and pets the trimmed hair along your vee. You twitch in horror as he hums and kneads the flesh of your thigh. You fight as hard as you can but he’s too strong. He drops onto you again as the shorts hang from your one ankle.

“Elijah,” you beg.

“Call me captain, doc,” he snarls.

“You can’t-- my boyfriend is on his way--”

“Shh, shh, shhhhhhh,” he hushes you.

He scratches your naked thigh as he picks at his fly. You stare past him to the ceiling as your stomach knots and your breaths trap in your chest. You push on his thick arms.

“N-n-no,” you croak out.

He wiggles as he leans into you. His length presses against your triangle of curly hair and he shifts back. He prods at you as he blindly guides his tip down. You squeak and jab your nails into his rounded shoulders. He rubs his fingers along your cunt as he nudges his pulsing dick back to your entrance.

You bend your legs, heels jabbing down into the couch, and try to push him off. It does nothing. He presses against your cunt and you open around him. You feel as if you’re tearing as he dips into you. You snarl into a shriek as he sheathes himself in your walls.

You whimper and groan as he thrusts to his limit. You drag your nails down his cheek and clutch onto his beard, tugging as you roar.

“Arggh! Get off!” You go to claw him again and he swats away your hand.

He clasps onto your wrist, then the other as you thrash with that. He pins both above you and lifts himself. He rocks his hips as your legs slips over the edge of the couch. You scream as he keeps his motion steady, each pump straining you past your limit. Each intrusion is fiery and dry. As if he’s scraping your inside.

His eyes fixate on the joining of your bodies as he puffs through his nose like a bull. His eyes are dark as he watches himself impale you over and over. Your tits bulge against the cups, falling out as he hammers you into the cushions, bouncing your body like it’s nothing.

He ruts down into you with all his weight and force. You fear him breaking your bones as each tilt of his hips is harder than the last. Your lashes web with tears and you bite down into your lip.

“Stop, please,” you babble, “my boyfriend--”

He snaps his hips up and you cry out again. You push your head back and choke through the pain. He slams down, over and over and over.

He lowers himself over you, resting his arms around yours as he squeezes your wrists until the ache. He presses a kiss to your cheek as you stare at the wall. You shake and spasm, giving into the futility.

“He’s not coming...” he sneers as his motion slows to long but just as torturous strokes, “I... I made sure.”

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #drabble #sleepover #pajama party #sand castle

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authorhjk1 · 5 months ago

Note

I’ll try my luck in requesting.. Plot is, reader asks SNSD Yoona who is his gf to dominate him femdom style.. I’d want to see kinks like pegging and well.. To be honest body worship especially armpits.. Thanks for reading and if you choose to decline it, all good.. But I really wish to a great writer’s take on this humble request of mine..

Submitting to her

(Lim Yoona X Male Reader)

This is how everyone sees her. Lim Yoona. One of the younger members and the center of Girl's Generation. Most of the time a cute, playful sunshine. But when it comes down to it, she can also be fierce and borderline sexy.

But no one will ever be able to see her, how you see her. That is something no one will ever know.

You met Yoona about a year ago for the first time. You couldn't believe she actually walked into the bar you were working at. It was a very expensive and prestigious one, yes, but you didn't really think of Yoona as big bar goer.

And you were quickly proven right. She was only there, because of one of the two friends she was with, was celebrating her engagement.

The three women were sitting at your bar the whole night, chatting away and drinking more and more of your most expensive liquor. While you were serving them and the other guests as well, the newly engaged woman seemed to have drunk too much. First, she kept on showing off her ring to Yonna and the third woman, but as the night grew longer, she also started to flirt with you.

You thought nothing of it at first, blaming it on the alcohol, but she got more and more into it. You could tell that Yonna was getting a little uncomfortable at her friend's behavior, but she didn't say a word.

"Would you mind mixing me another cocktail, babe?"

Yes, you did mind. And no you didn't like the fact she called you increasingly worse pet names. Blaming the alcohol would have been only a sorry excuse at this point. You could already tell that her future husband would probably catch her cheating at one point. It was so clear it could've been written on her forehead.

Eventually, her and Yoona's other friend went to the bathroom. The rude woman definitely drank too much. And while you were wiping parts of the black granite surface of the counter, you were hoping she wouldn't completely ruin the ladies' room.

You heard Yoona groan, after she took the last sip of her cocktail.

"Would you like a refill, Miss?"

To your surprise, Yoona suddenly glared at you.

"Oh, please, lover boy. Don't pretend like you would say no, if she asked you to spend the night with her."

You felt that was a little out of the blue. But the alcohol and her being annoyed by her friend, probably made her search for some kind of release.

"I would say no."

You would never sleep with another man's girlfriend, wife or whatever.

"Really? Why wouldn't you, huh?"

You suddenly felt trapped. Was that a trick question? Did she want you to mess up, so she could let out all her pend up frustration on you?

"Never mind, I'm sorry."

Yoona cut you off, before you could answer.

"It's just... I'm always too busy, you know? Barely free time, no time for dating, or a boyfriend and especially no time for a husband."

"Another cocktail it is, then."

Yoona chuckled as you started to mix the same cocktail she had before.

"You're really good at that, you know?"

"I hope so, I've been doing this for years."

As you added your finishing touches, Yoona let out another sigh.

"You are still young, so take some advice from me. Make sure you find the right person to be with. Don't wait as long as I have."

"I'm sure there are a lot of good men out there, who would like to go on a date with you, despite your busy schedule."

Since the granite surface was a little bigger, you let her new glass slide over the stone. It came to a hold just in front of her. You leaned over the counter and reached behind her ear.

Yoona slightly backed away, but you pulled back already, holding a small cocktail umbrella in your hand.

"Myself included, of course."

You blew on the umbrella, opening it up, before you let it fall into the drink.

You usually weren't that straight forward with guests. But this wasn't a usual guest. This was Yoona.

"That was smooth."

She playfully wiggled her eyebrows as she acknowledged your skill.

"Like I said, years of work and experience. Once I start something, I only finish once I perfected it."

"I like the sound of that."

Her smile was warm, but at the same time a little seductive. Her eyes sparkling with amusement, but also looking at you as if she was searching for something.

You later asked about that moment.

"I liked you. You looked handsome. And I wanted something she couldn't have."

That was her answer. Almost the perfect way to describe the start of your relationship.

"Although I don't have a man, I do have needs. I don't have enough time to date, but I can definitely make just enough time to take care of those needs."

You were surprised at how hopen she suddenly talked about herself. You were still in a public place.

"I could use someone like you. Dedicated to a task. Not stopping until he is satisfied. I would repay you of course. How much money do you make?"

While you were standing there, totally bamboozled by her sudden offer, you realize you could've seen that coming. Yoona is lonely, doesn't have time for a proper relationship and has more than enough money to find herself a sugar baby.

And for some reason, you did like the sound of that. Her terms were clear. Wherever and whenever she wanted, you would do your best to worship her entire body, make her feel good. But for that, you would have to quit your job.

"Don't worry. I will pay for everything you need."

While you were still debating on saying yes or no, her friends came back. They were eventually done drinking and were about to go home.

Yoona gave you one last look.

Decide right now, or you will regret it for the rest of your life.

You quickly wrote your number on a napkin and gave it to her.

The dynamic in your relationship was clear from the get go. Yoona was literally your sugar mommy and paid for everything, while you were tasked with pleasuring her better than anyone had ever before. Outside of the bedroom, she was the dominant one, but when it was about sex, you were the one who took care of her.

After staying at her place a couple of times, you, unconsciously, slowly started to move in with her. It started with a toothbrush and it ended with your computer and desk in her guest room. Not that Yonna minded at all. The living together and sleeping together, made it impossible to not start developing feelings. And finally, after ten months of sex with no strings attached, you both agreed on your new status of your relationship.

"10 Minute break in twenty minutes. Need you."

A simple text from your now girlfriend and you are on your way.

You enter the SM building slowly after, making your way to one of the smaller rooms on the third floor. As soon as you walk in, Yoona crashes into you. You haven't seen her since this morning. She looks just as good as she did then.

As soon as you saw her outfit this morning, you knew this is gonna be one of those days. She doesn't have them often. But on those days, she sometimes shows you a side of her no one can know about.

Most of the time, the power during sex is equally distributed. Sometimes it's Yoona, who leads, sometimes it's you. But most of the time, the two of you are equals. Yoona isn't the kind of woman who loves to get fucked like a cheap whore. She does enjoy you, being a little rougher with her at times, but never something too crazy.

And on rare occasions, just like today, you can see a fire burn inside of her. A fire that makes her lust and arousal grow immensely. Until now, she always had herself under control. But you do know, that if her self control breaks, you will be the one who will have to bear the consequences.

"Oh, fuck. I need your tongue so bad."

She whispers into your ear, after just having kissed the life out of you.

You lean down and push her hair behind her shoulders, before you start to kiss her naked skin. Yoona loves how you take care of her. How you worship her. To say that she has a praise kink is an understatement. More like goddess kink.

"You taste perfect, mommy."

Yoona purrs, at your words, letting out a satisfied sigh. Yeah, one of those days. You know you are doomed tonight, if you can't satisfy her well enough right now.

And at the same time, you don't mind at all. You actually welcome the idea of Yoona punishing you for doing a bad job. You want to find out what happens, when that fire inside her does take over her being. You are just not sure yet, if you can handle it.

Once you have dutifully peppered her shoulders with endless kisses, you pick her up and carry her towards the window.

"Oh, yes. I'm craving that. Oh, baby I'm so thirsty for your touch."

Yoona always turns into a mess, whenever you start to worship her like this. She loves it. And you do too.

After putting her down on the windowsill, you quickly start to take off her belt. This is just the right height for what you have in mind. Once her suit pants are around her ankles, you reach into her panties. The black lace traps your hand, forcing you towards her pussy.

"That's it, baby. Be a good boy."

Yoona moans in delight as she feels you pushing a finger inside of her. You lick your lips as you see her closing her eyes, ready to bring the second half of your plan to life.

While your left is slowly fingering her wet pussy, your right hand is now reaching for her wrists. Already knowing what you have in mind, Yoona gladly raises her arms. Standing next to her, you are greeted with the magnificent sight of her left armpit.

The slight sweat on her skin sparkles in the sunlight from outside. You unconsciously take a deep breath, enjoying Yoona's scent. After you spend hours after hours worshiping her entire body, you know how she tastes everywhere and how she smells too. Usually sweet, with a hint of sweat, because it's a hot day.

After taking another breath and pushing a second finger inside of her, you stick out your tongue and place it right underneath her armpit. Yoona lets out a deep moan. This combination has always made her cum pretty quick. And you have limited time right now.

The slight salty taste hits your taste buds as you use one long lick to move your tongue across her armpit.

"That's it, baby. Lick your mommy clean."

Yoona moans out loud as she feels your tongue now delivering longs swipes across her armpit. Your fingers in her pussy aren't idle and soon, Yoona succumbs to the pleasure you force onto her.

It takes you a minute or two to complete lick her armpit free of her sweat and just a little longer to reward yourself. The more you can have of her, the better. Yoona's sweat is now replaced by a small amount of your spit.

You change position as you keep your fingers inside her, your thumb now rubbing her clit.

"Hurry, baby. If you don't make me cum..."

Her whispered threat is interrupted by your tongue, finally reaching her armpit on the other side. The saltiness seems to be a little bit more prominent on this side. You gladly lick it all up, while Yoona starts to buck her hips against your hand.

"Damn it!"

She sighs heavier as her breathing becomes faster.

"Make me cum already."

Her heightened arousal makes her a little more aggressive today.

You keep on licking her skin and fingering her pussy. You know that she is slowly getting there. Maybe a couple of licks more. Or maybe a third finger...

"Yoona?"

You stop immediately as you hear someone outside the room. Yoona holds her shakey breath.

"Y-Yeah?"

"We have to get going now."

"Give me a minute, manager-nim!"

Yoona quickly urges you to pull your fingers out of her. As if you wouldn't have thought of that yourself.

"This isn't over."

She looks up at you with that fire in her eyes, once she is done making herself look presentable.

"As soon as I'm home..."

She let's that threat linger in the air as she walks out of the room. Yes, this is one of those days. But today seems more intense than usual. You wonder, if you asked for it, would Yoona let that raging fire consume her? Would she let go off her primal instinct and use your body for her pleasure, without thinking about you?

A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. What do you have to do to make that happen?

You know that Yoona will be busy for the rest of the day. You're sure she mentioned something about a magazine cover photoshoot, but you can't remember. Her schedule is stuffed with way too much events and appointments for you to know all of them.

And that's why she catches you by surprise, when she suddenly crashes through the door to her apartment.

"I have ten minutes."

It looks like she is on a break again. And it seems she came straight from the photoshoot. She is still wearing that outfit.

And you can tell by the fact, that she only came here for sex, that she is close to breaking.

You try to get off the couch you are lying on, but Yoona is quicker. The advantage of her skirt is, that she can just sit down on your face, without having to undress.

Barely ten seconds after she came home and your tongue is already buried inside her wet pussy. Yoona quickly holds onto your hair with both hands. Too impatient for you to find the proper rhythm, she just starts to ride your face. You have no choice but to lie there, enjoying the taste of Yoona's sweet pussy.

A minute passes. Then two. Then three. You do your best, trying to get her off as quick as possible. But that small voice at the back of your head starts to talk. What if...

Yoona breathes heavily and leans forward, trying to catch her breath, as she realizes that this isn't enough. Not enough for her to orgasm. Not enough for her to satisfy her hunger.

She quickly gets off your face, leaving you with trails of her juices all over it. Before you can react, your pants are already off. And a second later, Yoona has already straddled you, her pussy hovering above your cock.

"Oh, damn. That cock."

She sighs, her eyes closing in bliss as she impales herself on your cock. Without even thinking about it, one of her hands move towards your throat. She keeps riding you, her pleasure now increasing by the second. After almost getting caught earlier today, she really needs to find that high right now.

"M-Mommy."

She hears you coughing after calling her. Her eyes shoot open and she realizes that she has been choking you. Yoona quickly moves her hand away, an apologetic look in her eyes. She has never done that before. She never let herself go that far.

"Babe..."

She wants to say sorry, wants to apologize. And yet, a small part of her mind tells her to put her hand back on your throat. To make you cough, while she rides you like a dildo, not giving a damn about your well-being.

It scares Yoona for a moment. Those thoughts. But she can also see that you seem to know, what's going on inside of her.

Her eyes grow wide as you slowly start to nod your head.

No need for words. Yoona takes a deep breath, before she puts her hands back on your throat. For the first time, she starts to let go of herself.

You lie on the couch with wide open eyes. Yoona left barely a minute ago. It's hard for you to get up. You didn't expect her to go that hard. She rode you like her life depended on it. You were barely able to take it yourself, her pace and power were almost too much for you. Reaching for your throat, you grimace in pain. It's not that bad, but you don't need a mirror to know that that's gonna leave bruises.

You are glad you were able to cum, just in time, before Yoona came herself. You wonder if she would've cared about your orgasm at that point. Maybe not. But that thought alone almost makes you reach for your cock, which is still wet with her juices.

The rest of your day goes by without anything major happening. You are excited about what is gonna happen tonight. Despite having climaxed earlier, Yoona still didn't look very satisfied.

Trying to make time go by faster, you sit down in front of your computer, planing on gaming a little, until she comes home.

"Turn it off."

You almost have a heart attack, when you suddenly hear Yoona's voice. You didn't hear her come home.

"H-Hi, babe."

Her tone made it clear, that this day is still not over. The only question is, how rough Yoona is going to be with you.

Once you turn off the computer and look at her properly, you know what kind of sex she has in mind. She is now wearing a different outfit. Probably another one from her photoshoot.

"You look gorgeous."

You can tell she is holding in a smile as she leans down, to be at your eye level.

"I've had a long day..."

You get the hint as you stand up, just to walk her over towards the bed. Knowing you have the rest of the night, you start slowly. First, her hands. You kiss each of her knuckles and the back of her hands. She sighs, as Yoona lies on the bed, enjoying your work.

You soon move upwards, switching from one arm to the other, while you pepper her skin with kisses. It's smoothness takes your breath away every time. How can she be this beautiful?

Reaching her shoulders, you take a short trip to her collarbone, licking along it's length, before returning to her shoulders. Yoona lets out a satisfied hum. But you know that, at least today, this won't satisfy her enough. You move her arms away from her body a little, giving you access to her pits.

"Baby. I need to fuck you."

Yoona sighs, her first words since she told you to take care of her.

You know what she means by that. The fire in her eyes still there. As you dive in, licking her right armpit, you know that she is thinking about something far different from just riding you, like she did earlier today.

Yoona's fire urges her on to take control. To take you. To make you hers. And there's only one way you will truly be hers.

Yoona shifts around a little, while you keep worshipping her body. Once you're finished with licking her armpit clean, you kiss along her collarbone towards the other one, before diving in again.

Her hand finds itself in your hair as she lets out a heavier sigh.

"I need to-to take you. Now."

You realize that Yoona is approaching her breaking point. Should you push further? Ignore her real needs for just a couple of moments longer?

You eventually decide to be forward.

"You can do what you want with me, mommy."

You kiss her armpit one last time, before looking up at her face.

"Please. Be as rough as you want."

This is the only way for her to be happy today. To be satisfied. And you are more than willing to help.

"A-Are you sure?"

You nod your head yes.

"Do with me what you want."

You can see that dangerous fire flicker in her eyes. Yoona's inner voices are fighting each other. Eventually, she pushes you off of her, before she jumps off the bed. You watch her walk towards the big closet. Once she opens it, you can see what's lying on the middle shelf.

Four dildos, lined up and sorted by length. A belt, to make a strap on out of one of them, on their right. You gulp, knowing that there is no turning back now.

It's not like this your first time. Usually, at least one of you is in the mood for it. And you are the one, who decides which one gets used, before you start.

But you are very aware that Yoona is already using the one on the right. She put it on the belt already and is now tying it around her waist. The biggest one.

Her black outfit seems to fit the blue plastic perfectly. You don't choose that one very often. But now you know Yoona's true thoughts. The others aren't big enough for her taste.

"Strip."

She says, before even having turned around.

You hesitate for a moment. It's not that you don't trust her. It's the fact that you don't trust that fire within her. How far will she go...

Yoona's movement quickly makes you jump into action. As she turns around, you're just getting rid off your pants. She steps towards the edge of the bed as you take your shirt off.

Without a word, Yoona stares at you, lust burning in her eyes. She does a come hither motion with a finger, making you crawl towards her.

"Suck my cock, baby. If you don't want to get hurt..."

Yoona only used lube at the beginning. But after having tried this a couple of times, she started to make you suck the dildo first, before pegging you. Your own spit being the lubricant. That should've been a sign that something like this would come sooner rather than later. A sign you should've read.

You look up at Yoona as you open your mouth. Her fiery gaze stares back at you. You can't tell how rough she is going to be exactly. Should you be using a safe word?

But as Yoona pushes her hips forward, the blue dildo pushing past your lips, you realize that the time for setting a safe word has long past. You feel the plastic in your mouth, the unforgiving material dragging along your tongue. Yoona places her hand on the back of your head, holding you in place as she forces you to take it all at once. The tip slightly grazes the back of your throat, once your lips reach the base.

"Look up."

You do as your told. Yoona stares down at you, her face cold, while her eyes are burning. You catch her biting her lip slightly, before she moves her hips back. A moment later, she pushes them forward again. She starts to pick up the pace soon after, letting her other hand wander towards the back of your head as well.

Yoona is now fucking your face. Not as hard and fast as you occasionally do with her, but enough for you to cough once in a while. Due to her constant thrusts, the blue plastic is eventually covered in your saliva. Some of the liquid is already staining your lips and chin.

"What a good boy you are, sucking mommy's cock."

Up until now, you had both of your hands placed on the mattress, supporting your weight. Now, knowing how horny Yoona is, you reach forward with one hand. Since she is wearing a one piece, it was hard for you worship her whole body just now. So you try to make up for it by placing your hand between her thighs.

"That's right, baby. Mommy comes first."

Yoona slows down a little to make it easier for you to rub her pussy through the black fabric. Whenever you send really big jolts of pleasure through her body, Yoona thrusts forward uncontrollably. And soon, she is fucking your mouth again, while you try to pleasure her.

"Press harder."

You follow her orders, applying more pressure on her pussy.

"Fuck, yes!"

Yoona hisses loudly at the sudden increase of pleasure. Her hips move as fast as your hand, the two of you in a silent competition on who can go the fastest. It doesn't take long for Yoona to win as she forced herself inside of you exceptionally deep, making you gag and lose control of her your hand.

"Turn around."

She tells you, while you still recover from her sudden attack.

Once you do, you feel Yoona climb on the bed as well, kneeling behind you.

"If you are going to be a good boy and take it well"

Yoona leans over you slightly, the wet plastic pressing against your ass cheeks. It sends a shiver down your spine as you know very well what's next.

"I will reward you by letting you lick and kiss every single part of me."

It's an offer you can't refuse. For one, because you would do anything to get that opportunity. And two, because you are literally unable to refuse. Even if you would try, Yoona would just laugh at you.

You feel the dildo poke your butt hole as Yoona readies herself. She lets her hands wander over your cheeks, before she reaches underneath you. A moment later, her hand holds your cock, slowly stroking it.

"Don't cum too early, baby. Last time, you made a mess of yourself while cuming."

One would think that Yoona is just being considerate. But her tone says otherwise. It drips with her lust and you can tell that that's exactly what she wants. For you to lose control over your body as you cum.

Finally, Yoona slowly pushes forward. You breath a little heavier as you try to adjust to the new feeling.

"Relax, or this is gonna hurt."

Usually, Yoona would stop if you had trouble taking it and speak some encouraging words.

Not this time. Instead of waiting, she pushes the plastic tip past the ring of your muscles. You hold onto the sheets as Yoona slowly pulls you towards her, while she moves forward.

More and more of her length you take. Inch by inch, the blue dildo stretches your ass.

"Oh fuck, baby. Your ass looks so tight."

One of her hands squeezes your cheeks, while the other keeps stroking your cock. You grit your teeth as Yoona pushes further. Having taken this dildo a couple of times already, you can tell that you're halfway there. You feel every new inch drag past your muscles.

You feel fuller than before as Yoona keeps going. She doesn't stop, until you've finally taken it all.

"Good boy, taking all of mommy's cock."

Yoona whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You know that this only the calm before the storm.

Without asking if you are ready, which she would usually do, Yoona starts to pull out of you. Your hole clamps down on the plastic, not wanting it to leave your body. Just when only the tip remains inside, Yoona pushes forward again. She does this very slowly a couple of times, before she starts to pick up the pace.

It hurts a little as she becomes faster, but you don't complain. You can take it and you don't want to get on her bad side.

"Oh, damn. You're so hard already."

The whole time, Yoona has kept stroking your cock. She removes her hand for a moment and you hear her spit on it. Her now wet hand goes back to working your cock, while the plastic cock in your ass keeps moving back and forth.

Just as you are getting adjusted to the current pace, Yoona starts to fuck you faster. Some thrust leaves you breathless as she pushes your face into the mattress with her power.

"Mommy..."

You don't dare ask her to stop, but you need to warn her. You feel like you are losing control. Your thighs start to shake, your cock twitching a little.

"Not, yet."

You can tell she is gritting her teeth as she fucks you from behind. Both her hands are now on your ass as she keeps up the pace. Soon, she is pounding away with no regard for your comfort. The plastic inside of you drags along your inner walls and keeps splitting you open.

"Mommy..."

It seems that is the only word that you can force off your lips. As she takes your ass, you can tell that Yoona is really enjoying herself. Her nails are slightly digging into your flesh as she holds a tight grip on you. Apart from her breathing, which is now a little faster, you can hear her deep moans and an occasional grunt.

"Mommy, I think I'm gonna-"

You suddenly have a mouthful of the mattress. Yoona has pushed your head down to shut you up, ignoring your warnings that you're about to cum.

You can't help it. The plastic dildo in your ass keeps dragging along your inner walls as Yoona fucks you hard. You hiss, feeling slight pain, as she bottoms out inside of you.

You want to warn her again. Tell her you're about to cum on the sheets. But your words are muffled by the mattress, while Yoona keeps fucking you further into it.

"Don't cum too early, baby."

She mocks you, her hand finding it's way to your cock again. She squeezes it slightly while she strokes you faster and faster. Timed with her thrusts, her handjob pushes you further towards your climax.

Because you can't talk, you can do nothing but take Yoona's cock in silence. You feel your back arch as Yoona pushes your head even further into the mattress. It enables her to drive herself even deeper into you.

That's the final push you needed. You let out a deep moan as you climax immediately. Yoona's dildo feels even bigger now, her hand drains you of all of your cum. You can tell you've ruined the sheets, without even having to look.

"You've taken mommy's cock so well, baby."

Yoona leans down to kiss your cheek. For the first time today, she seems to genuinely care for you.

"Time for your reward."

You lift your head, once Yoona has removed her hand. You fall to the side, still breathing a little heavily.

Yoona uses your small break to untie the belt, before tossing it off the bed. She straddles you and leans over you with an expectant look.

You move your head upwards to lap at her armpits, cleaning her off the sweat that had just build up over the last couple of minutes.

"Get your tongue in there, yes!"

Yoona sighs in delight. You let your hands wander over her clothed back, trying to find the zipper. Once you do, you slowly reveal what's been hiding underneath her one piece.

You move from her armpits, over her collarbone, towards her chest. You suck on Yoona's nipples, once your reach them. She moans out loud. Her tits are quite sensitive, especially while you dedicate yourself to worshipping her body.

More and more of her skin gets covered in kisses, until you've been everywhere at least once.

"Make me cum, baby."

Yoona quickly strips off her entire one piece, now leaning over you completely naked. The sight makes you hard again already. She quickly lowers herself onto your cock. Just like earlier, she doesn't wait for you to adjust yourself. She quickly picks up the pace, using your cock like a dildo.

"Use your tongue, damn it."

She groans as you stop for a couple of seconds, because you are too captivated by her beauty.

While she rides you, you keep your tongue on the skin of her upper body. You make sure you don't miss a spot. Her tight midriff, her chest, her collarbone, her shoulders, her pits. All deserve equal attention as you do your best to reach each spot.

Eventually, the combination of your cock inside of her and your tongue all over her pleasure her too much, Yoona finally orgasms on top of you. Her body shakes as she rides out her high.

Once she comes down, you are surprised by feeling her getting off of you.

"Mommy-?"

You'd hoped she would allow you to stay inside her longer. Maybe even cum in her.

"You are not done yet."

Yuna turns around and lies on her stomach on top of you. She purposefully puts her feet in the direction of your face. You feel her lips wrap around your cock, while you dart your tongue out to get your first taste of her feet today.

As you shift around a little, you can tell that your going to be sore tomorrow. But it won't be too bad. Because once she woke up, Yoona will be the beautiful sunshine she usually is. You wonder how long it's gonna take until her next rampage.

------------

Hi, everyone.

This is the first time I tried writing kinks like armpits and pegging, so the quality might not be as good as you expected. But I hope you were still enjoying reading it.

Stay healthy!

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #yoona girls generation #girls generation smut #girls generation #lim yoona #snsd yoona #yoona snsd #yoona #snsd smut #snsd

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 15 days ago

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congrats on 900 rae !!!

i’m so proud of you reaching this milestone and i will always cherish you mind and works !! <3

“love is not over” i’m in my angst feels, i wanna feel tears run down my cheeks🥲

Ran this as a vibe, hope that's okay! ~650 words

When you're barely a teenager, you watch Jason Todd's coffin be lowered into the cold, hard dirt. Your hands are fisted in the fabric of your black clothes, and it feels like your world is ending.

The drizzle patters on the umbrella held lowly over your head, but you can hardly hear the sound over the way grief and anger seem to tighten your throat.

The tears that stain your face don't go away, not after the chestnut wood is long since covered, and not after the flowers lining the granite headstone start to wilt. You want to look away, want to pretend none of this is real. But you can't.

Jason Todd is dead and buried long before you really understand the meaning of the word love, but it's love that keeps him alive and vibrant in your memories. (And in your heart)

At first, in the first few weeks after his death, it's love and denial that keeps you instinctively filing things away to tell him later, keeps you looking over your shoulder to laugh with someone who will never be there again.

Then, it’s love and bittersweet sorrow that keeps his picture on your wall, that keeps the ever growing pile of trinkets in your closet to give to a boy that will never come home.

It’s love still, that has you visiting his grave to leave behind flowers and stories of your changing life. Even if your visits grow less frequent as the years pass, you find yourself talking to the silent gravestone at least once a month.

Most people grow out of their first love, some people go on to marry their first love. You, instead, find yourself in a strange limbo with the idea of love.

Even if you didn’t know it, then when you were younger and brighter and blind to the rot of Gotham, you had loved Jason Todd. Loved the laughter he brought to your life, loved the way his smile always made you mirror the expression yourself.

You think a part of you will always love him, crave the possibilities of what could have been. But maybe you’ve just never been good at saying goodbye, at least not to him.

Your heart hangs onto the love you carry for him, even as the granite starts to weather, and his name starts to chip on the stone. But no amount of love will bring the boy in the ground back to you.

So, you keep his name in a box in the deepest parts of your heart, and try to learn how to move on. You don’t quite find what you’re looking for, not the love that makes you starry eyed and warm, but you learn how sweet kisses can be, how warm someone else can be when they hold you close and steady.

You don’t quite fall in love again, but you grow and learn and find yourself surrounded by a different kind of love. You decide you don’t need more than that. You decide that, for you, there might not be another Jason Todd, and that’s okay. You can still be happy, still love, and be surrounded by people who love you.

It’s a notion you’ve grown comfortable with. So when there’s a sharp knock to the glass of your apartment window, and piercing eyes meet yours through the frame, you have no idea what to do with the name that gets torn from the box you’ve buried in the recesses of your soul.

Well, almost no idea.

It’s love again that gets you to open the window. Love that lets a stranger crawl into your home and stain your carpet with mud. Love that reminds you of the way the man standing uneasily in your kitchen likes his tea.

Love that makes you brave enough to listen to his story and not break down in tears. Love that gives you the will to reach out, squeeze his hand, and ask if he’d like to visit you again.

It’s love that makes him say yes.

#jason todd x reader #raes 900 follower event

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 11 months ago

Text

SKZ DRABBLE-BANG CHAN

A loose retelling of Hades and Persephone-modernized and darker than before, but beautiful all the same.

A/N: I'm not happy with this. But you guys can have it anyway.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, Bang Chan, Chan, Christopher, Christopher Bang, Y/N, Femreader, Chan as Hades, Y/N as Persephone, Underworld, Greek Mythology, Hades and Persephone, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Chan x you, Chan x reader, Chan x y/n, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Other members make guest appearances as various Greek gods, Greek Gods

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Warnings: Underworld Shit, Dark Undertones, Underhanded God and Mortal shit and dealings, Death, Dying, Triggering Themes, Toxic Relationships (not main characters), Chan's fucking in love with reader to the point of obsession.

Playlist:

🌸I’ll Be Damned-Gavn

🌸Seven Nation Army-Stevie Howie

🌸Call Me-ShineDown

🌸Granite-Sleep Token

🌸Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version)-Taylor Swift

Title: Every Last Seed

He goes by many names.

He always has.

Hades.

Ploutos.

King of the Underworld.

God of the Dead.

Bringer of Death.

Lord of Darkness.

But by far, his favorite name is the one that only you are allowed, dripping from your lips, soft and sweet, like honey, like a deadly nectar he's become addicted to-

Mine.

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"Where the fuck is he?" Chan storms through the door to his office, terrifying the wraith he employs as his secretary, her throat jumping with a gulp, as she straightens her glasses, and clasps her clipboard to her opaque chest.

"Ah, sir, I was just asking his Lordship if he'd prefer tea or coffee-"

"No need." Chan growls, not even bothering to look in her direction. "He won't be staying."

Hyunjin grins from his position behind Chan's overly large desk, his feet planted directly in the middle of some important treaties Chan had been working on the day before for some particularly pesky mortals.

"Ah, is that any way to treat your baby brother, Channie?"

His given name. The only ones who dare call him by that name are his brothers and you.

Everyone else just refers to him by the name the mortals gifted him when he became God of the Dead eons ago-Hades.

Chan stalks toward his brother's reclined form and promptly shoves his feet off the desk with a little bit more force than necessary.

"The perfect way, actually. Especially when said brother is impeaching on my very valuable and limited time, uninvited, I might add."

Hyunjin sniffs, straightening the highly expensive baby blue suit he wears, and plants his feet firmly on the ground, swiveling in Chan's chair to face him.

He tucks a strand of his golden hair back behind his ear and levels Chan with a self important look that makes him grind his teeth in agitation.

"Fine. You obviously want me to get straight to the point, so I will."

Chan feels a muscle tick in his jaw as he taps his foot impatiently, motioning with his hand for the man before him to continue.

"Great. What is it?"

Hyunjin sighs, making a show of straightening the crown on his brow, and then he gives Chan a grimace which he tries to soften with a halfhearted smile that Chan sees through immediately.

It makes his clench his fingers into fists at his side.

"How's the new little wife, hm, big brother? Satisfactory, I presume?"

Chan feels himself prickle at the mention of you, but he keeps his expression unreadable, dark, as he stares back at his clearly prodding brother.

"Fine. Anything else? Or did you travel all the way here and risk your wife's wrath just to ask me how my honeymoon was?"

Hyunjin blanches at the mention of Hera, and clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable now in the face of Chan's obvious ire.

"Yes, well-" He stands up, planting his hands flat on Chan's desk and leaning toward him, as if to appear intimidating.

Chan wants to laugh at the pathetic display.

"-there's been a problem. I'm sure you've noticed the influx of extra souls ever since you uh, tied the knot, without her mother's permission?"

He fidgets nervously under Chan's unwavering, blank stare.

Tugging at the collar of his expensive suit once more, Chan watches as his younger brother, the supposed God of the Gods, seems to wilt under his penetrating gaze.

Finally, he sighs heavily, and seems to implore Chan to give him something, anything, he can work with.

"Her mother's fucking pissed with you, Channie, all right? I'll just come out and say it. I need you to fix this."

Chan remains unmoving, stoic, in the face of his brother's obvious plea.

After another moment of silence, Hyunjin throws his hands outward and exclaims with obvious exasperation, "C'mon, help me out here. Lord knows I've helped you in the past when you asked."

Chan arches a brow. "Helped me?"

His voice is flat, cold, deadly, and Hyunjin winces subtly.

"Okay, listen-" He holds up his hands, as if the weak gesture of peace will stop Chan's building fury. "-you know the delicate balance we have between the mortals. We worked decades for that, and if Demeter keeps fucking offing them left and right, just to spite and overwork you, and the Underworld, we're gonna have a much bigger fucking problem on our hands than a petty little feud between you and your recently acquired mother in law."

Chan hates to admit it, but Hyunjin's right, as much as it pains him to agree.

Fucking Demeter and the chip on her shoulder toward him.

God forbid, her perfect, innocent, naive daughter-the goddess of Spring-fall in love with someone as twisted and dark and wicked as Chan-god of the dead and ruler of the Underworld.

No, the Goddess of Harvest was not bound to let this go lightly, and it seemed he needed to put a stop to this before it ever really began.

A few extra mortal souls on his workload was nothing really, but if she even thought about dissuading you-

Chan pinches the bridge of his nose and screws his eyes shut. He can feel a headache building.

"Fine." He grits out, and he can practically hear Hyunjin breathe a sigh of relief. "I'll handle it."

Ignoring his brother and his babbled platitudes of thanks, he steps toward the window and looks down over the city below, flickering to life beneath the coming darkness.

"But know this-" He turns and levels Hyunjin with a dangerous, black gaze. "-if I even hear a whisper of you and Demeter's little foolish escapades putting my wife in danger, I will end you both without a second thought and with one snap of my fingers."

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He still remembered the first time he ever laid eyes on you. How could he forget?

Attending one of his younger brothers garish and old fashioned parties-he'd thought they'd stopped doing these kinds of things centuries ago-he'd been dragged over to rub shoulders with some of the greats, one stiff tuxedo away from going the fuck home where he belonged.

And then, he'd seen you, hidden in Demeter's shadow- though nothing could truly hide your exquisite and rare beauty, not even your mother's sour, pinched expression-and his feet had moved toward you without permission, as if drawn by an invisible thread of fate.

Your mother had looked at him as he approached with such disdain it would've set him on fire had he not been a god, but he'd ignored her, striding boldly forward through the party goers until he stood directly in front of you.

"Hades." Demeter had hissed in greeting, dark hatred flashing in her eyes as she'd put a protective arm out in front of you.

You stared up at him with the biggest, most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen, and extended one slender, soft hand out toward him, breaching the threshold of your mother's protection without a second thought, as if you could feel the tug of the persistent string too.

"Persephone." You had whispered, than blushed, your cheeks going red, as his fingers found yours. "Or Kore. O-or (Y/N). Whatever is to your liking, your highness."

Your hand was like velvet-warm and silky in his own-and his fingers dwarfed yours, making them feel delicate and almost fragile in his grip.

"I know who you are, Goddess of Spring." He had replied, with far more confidence in his low tone than his quivering gut felt in the moment.

Your expression had flashed surprise at his words, and you glanced away under his direct gaze, red, full lips parted, cheeks taking on an even deeper hue of scarlet.

The look of sudden shy demureness on your features intoxicated him, and his dick immediately took notice.

"I am honored that one such as yourself, your highness, has taken notice of me already."

He had cleared his throat, subtly adjusting himself in his too expensive slacks-some high end shit Hyunjin had insisted he wear-at the soft tone of pleasure your voice took on at his attention, and finally, reluctantly released your hand, even as Demeter ushered you back behind her looming form.

"We really must be going." Her expression went from pinched to furious as his eyes lingered on you just a bit longer than necessary. She ushered you away. "Say goodbye, Kore."

"Goodbye." You had murmured, eyes flitting up to his briefly, before you let your mother lead you away and out of his sight.

Chan took his leave shortly after, giving Hyunjin some bullshit excuse of the Underworld not running itself, and had hightailed it home, his skin itching beneath the ridiculous suit he wore, and his hard-on aching for a release.

That night, he came with his cock in hand, and your name on his lips.

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He arrives home to find you in the garden, kneeling in the dirt, fingers dug deep into the soil.

It's a common occurrence, a sight he's grown used to, but he still pauses, watching you silently for a few moments, enjoying the way your hair falls around your face, the way the curves of your body are accentuated against the early evening light.

Cerberus notices him first, raising his giant, blocky head from his paws where he lays beside you next to the garden plot, ears erect. His thick tail thumps the ground-once, twice-at the sight of Chan and you glance up, following the dog's gaze.

Chan steps from the shadows, and the most gorgeous smile he's ever seen graces your features as soon as you catch sight of him.

It takes his breath away, and as you stand, brushing the dirt from the dress you wear, he thinks, not for the first time, that you're the most fucking beautiful thing he's ever had the pleasure of calling his own.

"Channie." You breathe sweetly, throwing your arms around his neck as he draws closer, burying your face in the juncture of his throat. "You're home."

"I am." He agrees, wrapping you tightly in his embrace, taking a moment to let his nose skim your hair, the smell of blossoms and springtime filling his senses.

You pull back, just enough to gaze up at him, and he lets his finger go beneath your chin, holding you there, so he can study and memorize, once again, every single intoxicating line of your features.

Your lips quirk into the start of a smile, as if you know what he's doing, but you don't say anything.

He's grateful for that.

"Did you have a good day?" You ask softly, your breath warm on his fingers, as he traces the part of your full, soft lips.

"Eh." He lifts one shoulder into a shrug and lets it fall back down heavily. "Not as good a day as I would've had staying here with you, little blossom."

You arch a brow, and he sees it, the stubborn expression wash across your face that lets him know you know he's trying to deflect.

You put your hands on your hips and stare him down, and he resists the urge to lean forward and kiss the tip of your nose.

Fuck, you're adorable.

"I heard Zeus came to see you."

"Is that so?" He questions, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as he watches you hold your ground.

He leans forward, fingering one of the loose strands of hair that frames your face, before he lets his gaze dip to your throat, the golden chain you always wear dipping tantalizingly out of his line of sight where it disappears between the swell of your breasts.

"You're correct." He acquiesces, his fingers itching now to reach up and tug the chain free, so he can dangle the wedding ring he knows lies safely between your breasts between the two of you, just so he can remind himself who you belong to once more.

His dick swells at the thought.

He clears his throat, and brings his gaze reluctantly up to meet yours once more, noting the dark flash of stubbornness that washes across your eyes.

"However." He smirks now, stepping closer, letting his hand gently close around your throat, your pulse thready beneath his palm, like a fluttering bird beating against the bars of a cage. "I don't really want to talk about my brother right now, do you?"

He leans forward, and begins to suck kisses along the column of your throat, and you giggle, batting him away and stepping back before he can distract you further.

"Channie." You whine, putting your hands once again on the swell of your hips, and he thinks, not for the first time, that your delicious curves are going to be the death of him one day. "I'm serious."

He sighs, and tries to ignore the hardness of his eager dick between his thighs, knowing you're not going to let him off the hook-or let him fuck you dumb-until he's told you what Hyunjin wanted.

"Fine." He sighs again, and drops onto one of the many benches he had had installed in the garden solely for the purpose of watching you do what you love most.

You step toward him, and he opens his legs so you can slide between them, putting your hands on his shoulders as his fingers find your hips through the thin material of your dress.

"Tell me." You insist, staring down at him and Chan tilts his head back to look at you, arching a brow at your commanding tone.

"Goddess of Spring, are you really telling the Lord of the Underworld what to do?"

An amused smirk flickers across his lips at the look of exasperation that crosses your features.

You stick your tongue out at him, and he chuckles, tugging you to him. You protest a little, but let him do it anyway, burying his face into your stomach, the soft feel of your dress caressing his skin.

He breathes in your perfume, once, twice, and then leans back, meeting your gaze.

"Your mother is throwing a little temper tantrum it seems."

Your eyes widen minutely, and Chan sees your lips flatten into a determined, serious line.

"Because of our marriage?"

Chan gives a slight nod. "It would seem so."

One of your hands clenches into a tight, white knuckled fist at your side, and your chest stutters with a sharp intake of breath.

Beyond your shoulder, a vine springs to life, fraught with large thorns, curling around a nearby tree, up and up, tight enough to strangle the bark beneath its hold.

Cerberus raises his head, scenting the sudden unease in the air, and lets out a small whine.

You take in a deep breath, and the vine begins to slowly retract its hold on the tree.

"Little blossom." Chan murmurs, tugging you down onto his lap, and encircling you in the safety of his arms, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "It's nothing to worry about, I promise you. I'll handle it."

He feels you shake your head beneath his chin.

"You shouldn't have to handle it. She's my mother. I need to stand up to her."

Chan glances beyond you as Cerberus whines again, and sees the vine's thorns growing dangerously long with your distress, piercing through the trunk of the tree, cracking the bark into splinters.

"Pet." Chan warns quietly, nudging your chin in the direction of the destruction. "Take a deep breath."

You gasp, and let the air out on a long, shuddering breath, and the vine halts its upward progress almost instantly as you collapse against Chan, slumping into his chest.

He can hear the tears in your voice when you whisper, "I'm sorry."

His finger finds your chin again, and he raises your watery gaze to his own.

"Never, and I mean never, apologize for the power you hold, my love. For it will bring gods and mortals alike to their knees, and one day, when they all pass beyond this life, you will be known as their queen."

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"You know, it's usually easier to get into the palace through the front door."

The unfamiliar, male voice startled you and you lost your hold on the branch you were currently coaxing toward the palace wall, snatching it up again with a curse just in time to stop yourself from tumbling all the way back to the ground below.

"Fuck." You glared over your shoulder, down to the newcomer, but could only make out a tall, dark silhouette, cloaked in a hood.

The man tilted his head, as if he was looking up at you, and you swore you could feel his smirk even through the darkness.

"Yes, thank you for the advice." You snapped back with a huff, already reaching out for the next branch as your magic grew it down toward your outstretched fingers. "But I think I'll stick with this."

"Suit yourself, little blossom." The mystery man leaned against the thick trunk of the tree, and crossed his arms over his chest, staring out at gods knows what.

You paused, catching your breath, and glared down at him, even though you're sure he can't see you.

"Don't call me that."

You saw his chest rise and fall in a silent laugh. "Why?"

"Because." You huffed, reaching for another branch, out of breath as you work around the gods awful gown your mother had insisted you wear to visit Olympus. "I don't know you."

"Oh, but I think you do."

You paused to consider his words, racking your brain for anyone you knew in Olympus well enough to give you a nickname, and came up with no one. Your mother didn't let you visit often from the mortal realm.

"I don't." You insisted, standing up on your tiptoes to try and reach the top ledge of the wall.

You heard the man chuckle again as you stretched-up, up, up-and just as your fingers had grazed the cool marble, your foot slipped off its hold on the branch below, and you tumbled, shrieking, back down through the tree and toward the hard ground.

You closed your eyes, waiting for the impact, but it never came.

Cracking open one eye, you stared straight into the face of the mystery man, safe in the warm, strong curve of his arms.

His hood had fallen back in the act of catching you, and your eyes widened as you recognized the handsome face before you.

Fucking. Hades.

Brother of Zeus.

God of the Dead.

He grinned at you, and arched a brow, reiterating softly, "But you do."

Your heart did one sharp staccato against your ribcage, as he set you carefully to your feet, and stepped back, and almost instantly, you missed the warmth of his skin against your own.

"Thank you for saving me." You stuttered out, curtsying deeply, now that you had your wits about you.

He chuckled, staring at you as you straightened back up, and you hoped it was dark enough to hide the blush staining your cheeks.

"Oh, I have no worries that if I wasn't here, little blossom, you would have saved yourself."

He motioned upward with a jut of his chin, and you followed his gaze to the tree, gasping as you saw a thick, dark green vine wrapped around its bulbous trunk, stretching down from the palace wall and to the ground below, curling around your feet.

When you glanced back to the man before you, he was already pulling his hood back up over his face, ready to disappear back into the blackness.

"Wait!" You called out before you could think better of it, and he stopped, cocking his head.

You swallowed hard, and took a step toward him.

"Will I see you again, your highness?"

You swore he smiled beneath the hood.

"Call it what you will, Goddess of Spring-fate, destiny, the will of the gods-but I think you and I will be seeing each other again very soon. Very soon indeed."

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"You can't have her, you know."

Changbin took another long sip of his drink, cheeks already rosy, and followed Chan's hungry gaze across the room to you, standing close by your mother's side.

He simply shrugged when Chan turned to shoot him a glare.

"Her mother would never allow it. She hates your fucking guts. Not to mention-" He leaned over and lowered his voice, as if he was telling Chan a secret. He could smell the liqueur on the younger god's breath. "-the whole 'Underworld Ruling' thing."

Chan is saved from having to respond by the appearance of Minho, flute of champagne in hand, look of annoyed disgust on his face, as he slid past the hulking god beside Chan and took a seat on the duvet across from them.

His brother glanced dismissively at Chanbin, leaning back to take another long swallow of his drink.

"Nephew."

Changbin grinned and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

"Uncle."

Minho arched a brow and his nose wrinkled slightly in open distaste. "Do you ever not wear armor?"

Changbin grinned bigger, and slapped a loud palm to the armor fitted perfectly to his broad chest.

"Of course not! I'm the God of War. Always have to be ready for anything, Uncle. You know how it is."

"I'm sure I don't." Minho sniffed, raising his champagne delicately to his lips, and taking a tiny sip. "The Ocean does not concern itself with the dealings of mortals. Let alone their trivial pursuits of war."

Changbin merely shrugged, and stood, slapping a powerful hand to Chan's shoulder, which sent him jolting forward in his seat, rubbing his offended arm and glaring up once more at the towering figure of his nephew.

"I'm off to find another drink. And maybe a few maidens." Changbin announced, giving Minho a mock salute, as the man stared him down with annoyed disdain. "Take care, uncles."

And with that, he was gone.

Minho's gaze flitted to Chan, and he took another long, slow sip of his drink.

Chan felt his eyes unwittingly pulled back to the other side of the room, but you had disappeared from view, probably dragged off by your mother for more introductions.

"I'm surprised you came."

Chan let his gaze drift back to his brother across from him, and offered him a tilt of his head in acknowledgement, reaching for his own glass of forgotten champagne.

"Yes, well, that makes both of us. I'd hoped to not find myself at another one of these damned archaic, presumptuous affairs for another eon or so."

The corner of Minho's lip flickered with amusement, and his eyes roamed past Chan to the dozens of gods and demi gods currently mingling on the expanse of Hyunjin's vast dance floor.

"Our baby brother is good for very few things, and throwing amusing soirees is indeed not one of them."

Chan felt his own lips quirk into the hint of a smirk, and he raised his glass to Minho in silent salute.

Minho tilts his own champagne in response, and they both take a deep draft of the shimmering, bubbly liquid.

His brothers were hard to tolerate on the best of days, but he'd always felt like Minho understood him just a little bit more than Hyunjin ever had.

Standing, Chan places down the now empty glass and nods to Minho in farewell.

"I've made an appearance. Now it's time to take my leave."

Minho watched him in silence for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, and then with a flick of his fingers, he filled Chan's empty glass back up with water.

Chan stared at him, and he arched a brow.

"Drink some water before you go, brother. It'll help with the hangover tomorrow."

He sighed, reaching for the glass, and downed the water in one gulp.

"There. Happy?"

Minho's mouth flickered again. "Almost." He cocked his head, and let his gaze roam over Chan's body, as if he could see the way his muscles tensed, the way his mind swirled, already thinking about running into you on his way out.

When Chan went to move past him, Minho put an arm out, stopping him in his tracks.

"Careful, brother." Minho murmured, eyes dark and discerning, trapping him in place. "Interest is a fickle, fleeting thing, but obsession is fatal."

There was a beat of tense, deafening silence, Minho staring at him like he could see right through him.

Chan shook his head, and broke the spell.

"Thanks for the advice." Chan grunted, pushing past him without another glance, stalking toward the exit, not caring as he shouldered past the partygoers, earning himself a round of nasty looks.

The cold night air of Olympus embraced him as he pushed through the double doors and into the opulent garden beyond.

Unlike the swirling colors and lights and noise of the party inside, the garden was deserted at this time of night-dark and quiet and abandoned-just how he liked it.

Taking in a deep breath, holding it as the frigid air seared his lungs, Chan strode deeper into the garden, walking between the towering, shadowy rows of hedges, clearing his head.

The music had almost faded out of ear shot, when he heard it-a small, unfamiliar sound that immediately caught his attention.

He paused, freezing, and listening.

There it was again, just around the next bend, somewhere near the center of the hedge maze, beside the fountain he knew graced the large stone courtyard lined with benches hidden amongst the neatly trimmed foliage.

Taking another quiet step so he could round the corner, he heard it once more.

It almost sounded like-a gasp?

Chan came around the hedge quietly, on full alert, his footsteps silent, and as the fountain came into view, he caught sight of a figure leaning back on one of its edges on the other side, obscured through the haze of the water.

Another creeping step forward, still hidden by the shadows of the bushes, and the person came into view.

It was you-sitting on the marble edge of the fountain, dress hiked up around your knees, leaning forward as you focused on something intently.

Chan narrowed his eyes, trying to see what it was you were doing, and when he realized, as another little breathy moan left your lips and your wrist spasmed, he halted, feet suddenly leaden.

Gods above, you were touching yourself.

He should move, he should announce his presence, he should leave, he shouldn't be watching you in this very private, very vulnerable moment, but he can't seem to get himself to break the spell, watching you silently from the shadows of the hedge as you pleasure yourself.

You let out that sound again-a breathless sort of stifled release of breath-and Chan felt his dick start to swell in response, straining against the fine fabric of the slacks he wore.

You let your head fall back, eyes screwed closed, lips parted, as your fingers continue their work, and Chan's eyes are drawn to the way your chest heaves for breath, the perfect swell of your breasts straining against the corset you wear.

Suddenly, he can move again.

Stepping quietly from the shadows, he approached, moving to stand in front of you, and as if you could sense his sudden presence, his eyes on you, your eyelids fluttered open, your mouth forming a perfect 'o' of surprise as you caught sight of him.

"Y-your highness-" You stuttered out, cheeks immediately blooming pink, and Chan was enthralled by the way the rosy color spread rapidly down your chest.

You made a move to remove your fingers, tugging at your billowing skirts, but Chan held up a hand, his eyes meeting your own.

"No. Don't stop."

You froze, staring at him, wide eyed, like a fawn caught in the daylight, and he made an attempt to soften the gravel of his voice, repeating again, softer this time, "Keep going. Please."

You stared at him for another long moment, and he couldn't breathe, maybe you were going to run, maybe you were going to tell on him, what a pervert he'd been, maybe you were disgusted-

And then, slowly, eyes still holding his own, you let your fingers dip back beneath the folds of your gown.

He could tell the moment you made contact again, because your body stiffened, and that sound-the one that went right to his cock-passed your parted lips once more.

Chan watched you, mesmerized, as you let your fingers do the work, arching your body on the edge of the fountain to find the right angles, all the while, holding his gaze unwaveringly.

You were brave, he'd give you that.

You gasped, mouth falling open, and he saw the way your wrist twisted, picking up pace.

He imagined how wet you were, how easily your fingers slid in and out, and he clenched his hands at his side to keep himself in place, to force himself to let you be.

"What do you think about?" He asked suddenly, licking his lips, his mouth desperately dry.

"What-" You started to question, the words breaking off into a breathy moan that had him painfully hard, even harder than before.

He took a step closer.

"What do you think about? When you're getting yourself off?"

Your eyes had screwed closed as you grew closer to release, but you managed to flutter them back open to meet his gaze, your face twisted into the start pleasure, your fingers never stopping.

"You!" You gasped out desperately, chest heaving, free hand digging into the marble ledge of the fountain, fingers white with the effort of holding back.

Chan watched as you came then, crying out and body vibrating, and when the orgasm had finished ripping through you, you slumped back, breathing hard and cheeks flushed.

Pulling your hand from your skirts, Chan tried not to focus on the way your fingers glistened as you wiped them off on your dress.

He was rooted to the spot, watching you come down, cock aching and leaking down his leg, wishing he was the one who'd undone you so fully, when you finally met his gaze once more.

Your expression was unsure, lips pressed into a thin line, when you repeated softly, defeatedly, "You. I think about you."

You sat up, straightening your skirts with your clean hand, and Chan resisted moving closer to you with what very little willpower he had left.

You were biting your lip, staring at the ground between the two of you, when he conjured a trace of shadow, using it to caress your chin and tilt your gaze back up to meet his.

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, your skin pebbling into goosebumps beneath the touch of the shadow, but you didn't move, you didn't look afraid.

Chan felt the corner of his mouth lift into the hint of a smile as he let the shadow trace your cheekbone, brushing back a loose strand of damp hair into your elegant braid.

"You know, little blossom, my brothers say you're a problem."

Your eyes widened a little more, and then a flash of indignation crossed your pretty features.

"Why?"

Chan cocked his head, studying you, and you stared right back.

"Because I want you, but I can't have you. And I tend to have a fatal flaw of getting obsessive over things that are kept from my grasp."

He flicked away the shadow with his fingers, burying his hands into the pockets of his slacks as he let the words settle between you.

His dick was still unyieldingly hard.

Your lips parted slightly, as if surprised by his admission, and then a brief, mischievous smile flashed across your lips, catching him off guard.

You tilted your head, and your lips quirked upward into a bigger, sweeter smile.

"Your highness?"

"Yes?"

You hopped down from the ledge of the fountain, and found your shoes, slipping your feet into them as he watched, waiting for you to continue.

When you stepped toward him, closing the distance, he resisted every urge to grab you and slot his mouth hungrily over yours.

You looked up at him curiously, studying his features, your eyes large and dark, framed by the longest eyelashes he had ever seen.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, as if you were telling him a secret only known to the two of you.

"What do you think about when you come?"

He stared at you, trying to put the words with the movement of your lips.

Finally, he swallowed, watching your eyes flit down to follow the movement of his throat.

"You."

"Hm." You hummed beneath your breath, lips twitching, as you finally slipped past him, headed back in the direction of the party.

Chan whirled, watching you go, and as if you could feel his eyes on you, you turned and paused when you reached the hedges, fingers trailing over the dark, emerald leaves, leaving shining pink flowers behind in their wake.

"Interesting." You arched a brow, giving him a half, knowing smile. "And here I was, thinking my little obsession was one sided."

Chan let a shadow slink from the hedge beside you and trail around one of your ankles.

You grinned at him once more, and slipped silently from view.

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Chan steps off the elevator and is immediately met with the largest bouquet of flowers he's ever seen, shoved directly into his face.

He swats them away with annoyance, and the person carrying the atrocity comes into view, panting like they've just carted weighted rocks up the floors of the building and not obnoxiously perfumed flowers.

"Oh, hey boss." Jeongin beams, adjusting the vase of flowers in his arms, so that he can reach up and push the cap he wears back slightly, revealing a sweaty swath of dark hair.

"I got you flowers!" He holds up the arrangement, as if Chan can't see them, and follows him when he stalks past him toward his private office.

Setting the bouquet down on the front desk as they pass, flashing Chan's assistant a winning smile, Jeongin hurries to keep up with Chan's long strides, floating slightly above the floor.

"Well, Persephone did, technically, but you know, she asked me to give them to you so-"

Chan ignores the chattering messenger god beside him, and turns a left down the hall, already silently going over the meetings he has scheduled for today in his head.

Turning another corner, he's just about to push into conference room two, when Jeongin slides in front of him, spreading his arms out to block his way and trying to catch his breath.

"Whoa, boss. You can't go in there."

Chan stares the kid down, expression stoic.

"Jeongin. Get out of my way."

Jeongin doesn't budge, though Chan can see a flicker of fear flash across his dark gaze as he stands in front of Chan's looming, annoyed figure.

He reaches up, scratching at the back of his neck in clear discomfort, and shuffles from one winged foot to another.

"Okay, but here's the thing-" He starts, hemming and hawing, glancing past Chan and to the hallway, then back to the god standing in front of him.

"Jeongin." Chan warns, beginning to think there's something going on that he doesn't know about, and nothing pisses him off more than to be oblivious.

Jeongin clears his throat and gives him a half hearted smile. "Persephone kinda asked me to keep you out of the conference room today because she's kindameetingwithhermomtodiscussthingswithoutyou."

Chan stares blankly at the boy in front of him, wringing his hat now between anxious hands, and then asks quietly, dangerously, "She what?"

Jeongin swallows, the gulp is audible in the tense silence, but still holds his position blocking Chan from the doorway.

It's admirable, he'll give him that.

He gives a little shrug and a sheepish smile. "Sorry, boss?"

Chan growls beneath his breath in frustration, and pinches his nose.

He can feel a headache coming on.

"Fine." He grinds out, the muscles in his jaw popping with his irritation as he clenches his teeth and glances past Jeongin to the waiting conference room. "But you're to come and get me as soon as they're finished." He points a stern finger into the middle of Jeongin's chest. "And Demeter is not, I repeat not, allowed to be alone at any time while she's in the Underworld, understood?"

Jeongin nods and gives him a little salute, even as Chan is already stalking away.

"Yes, sir!" He calls out down the hallway, voice echoing off the walls and exacerbating Chan's growing headache. "I won't let you down, boss! You can count on me!"

Chan mumbles something beneath his breath about hiring new wingmen, and locks himself in his office.

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Chan doesn't get to see you for the rest of the day.

The hours slip by, and he's faced with problem after problem-mortal souls unhappy with their judgement, wraiths he employs needing his every attention and signature, accountants wanting to see him about the toll to cross the Styx ('inflation is happening you know!')-and by the time he finally gets home, well after sunset, his every muscle is tight with irritation.

He walks in to see you in the kitchen, apron tied tightly around your waist, Cerberus at your feet, dozing with his head on his huge paws.

The dog gives a thump of his tail when Chan appears, alerting you to his presence, and you glance up from whatever it is you're chopping, giving him a wide, bright smile.

He's not fooled. It doesn't reach your eyes.

Pushing aside the monstrous bouquet from earlier that now resides in the middle of the giant, granite island that takes up a majority of the kitchen, he raps his knuckles on the stone, watching you carefully, his head cocked.

"I heard your mother stopped by today."

He watches the way your chopping stalls, but you don't look up at him, chest inflating with a silent breath before you turn, tossing the carrots into the large stew pot on the stove.

"Yes." You finally say, back still to him.

He tries to force the irritation simmering just below the surface down, relaxing his whitened fingers one by one, as he blows out a long, slow breath.

"(Y/N)."

You turn then, at the use of your given name said in his stern tone, and resume cutting, chopping blocks of beef into smaller cubes.

Chan blows out another breath, harsher this time, and rubs at his temple.

The headache from before is still lingering, pounding now that he's finally left the office for the day.

"What did you talk about?"

You flick your eyes briefly up to his, and then back to the meat beneath your knife.

"Her 'temper tantrum' as I believe you put it."

Chan winces slightly. That wording probably didn't go over very well.

"And?" He prods, leaning against the counter, leaning down so he can glance into your face.

You bite your lip, and he sees you blow out a breath, before you look up at him and force that smile back onto your face-the fake, overly saccharine one from before, the one he doesn't buy for a moment.

"Do we really need to talk about this right now? You just got home, and dinner is almost ready-"

Chan flattens his hands, palms down, on the cold granite, and doesn't let you look away.

"Yes."

Your fingers tighten around the knife, and he sees you let out a shuddering breath.

At your feet, Cerberus cocks his head, your obvious display of uncertainty grabbing his attention.

"Channie-" You start to say, and he watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow.

Anger swirls into embers in the pit of his stomach.

He leans forward, dark eyes flashing. "What did she fucking do? If she so much as made you feel bad for any of this, I won't hesitate to pay her a little visit in the mortal realm-"

"No, no." You wave your hands, finally meeting his gaze once more, your bottom lip wobbly and your eyes shiny. "It's nothing like that."

Chan feels his heart immediately sink.

A tear drips down the length of your cheekbone, and he resists the urge to lean across the counter and swipe it away.

You rub at your eyes with your hands, and breath in an unsteady inhale.

Cerberus stands, butting his blocky head into your hand, until you let out a slight, watery chuckle, and begin to pet his dark ears.

"She-" You start to say, then stop, and Chan stares at you, frozen in sudden fear.

The flowers sitting in their vase on the counter begin to wilt and turn brown and brittle, dropping leaves to the granite like snow fall.

Chan ignores them.

You take in another breath, and pick the knife back up, moving to chop again.

"She wants to make a deal. She wants me to spend Spring in the mortal realm, with her, so I can fulfill my duties every year. And then I'll stay here, with you, the rest of the time."

You look up at him, your expression vulnerable, unsure. There's hurt in your eyes.

Chan's thoughts stop. His body goes cold. There's a buzzing in his ears, and he doesn't know if the shadows are lengthening, or if his sudden loss of control is causing everything to creep in.

He turns, and without a word, flicks a shadow out to send the vase of now withered flowers crashing to the ground.

You yelp, jumping at the noise, and Chan stands, back to you, staring at the mess he's made, chest heaving, hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

The mess he always makes.

After a beat of silence, he hears you put down the knife, and then your soft footsteps, as you pad around the counter and kneel on the ground next to the shattered vase.

Slowly, without looking at him, you reach out and begin to pick up the broken pieces.

Chan breathes in, breathes out. His headache is pounding.

"Little blossom, leave it-"

He starts to say, moving to crouch before you, just as you pick up another piece of sharp ceramic and wince, instantly dropping the piece back down with a clatter, as you pull your hand back against your chest.

Chan reaches out and tugs your hand back into view, watching as the cut on your palm starts to slowly leak golden, shining ichor down the line of your wrist, dripping on the floor between the two of you.

His breath stalls as he glances up to your pained expression, all the anger leaving his body in an instant.

"You're bleeding."

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"You're bleeding."

Chan glanced up at the sound of your voice behind him, meeting your concerned gaze in the mirror, where he remained, leaning over the basin, palms on the cool ledge of the sink, watching the water swirl away down the drain.

"Yeah, well-" He gave a little humorless chuckle as he watched the water shimmer with the ichor he washed from his knuckles, before he straightened and dried his hands, glancing once more at you in the reflection of the mirror. His mouth quirked up into the hint of a smirk, and he winced as it pulled at the split skin of his lip, tasting fresh ichor on his tongue. "-luckily for me, my brother hits like a pussy when he's been drinking."

Your eyes widened. "He hit you?"

Chan turned, swiping a hand across his mouth now, tossing the towel to the side. "Yeah, well, I probably deserved it."

He'd no more than finished the admission than you're at his side, taking his hand in yours, your eyes raking across the golden liquid that marked his knuckles, tacky and congealing.

You glanced up at him, curiosity flashing across your pretty features.

"What did you do?" You questioned in a whisper, as if asking him to divulge a dark secret.

Chan almost grinned-you're too fucking adorable-but he leaned in, his forehead brushing yours, expression serious, and lowered his voice to match yours.

"I told him, little blossom, that there's no way in fucking Tartarus that I'm going to another one of his stupid, historic parties, unless of course, it's thrown for us and planned in celebration of our marriage."

You stared up at him for a silent moment, and Chan almost backtracked, wondering if he'd been too bold, when a slight smile curved your lips up mischievously.

"Well." You released his hand and straightened the collar of the suit he wore, before stepping back, eyeing him up and down, head cocked with interest.

The look on your face took his breath away.

"Then I guess you'd better get me a ring, hadn't you?"

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Chan slips your ring carefully from your finger, lying it beside the sink, before he tends to the wound on your palm.

You protest the whole time, claiming it's fine and you're fine and he's being dramatic, but Chan's heart won't stop pounding in his chest until every last drop of your golden blood is wiped clean from your skin.

When he's satisfied with himself, he helps you get down from your position atop the bathroom counter, and pushes you gently toward the waiting shower.

"I'll just be a minute." He says, as you roll your eyes, but strip your clothes anyway, waiting before he hears the water turn on, before he darts back to the kitchen.

He cleans up the mess he made in his anger, and goes back to the bathroom.

He watches you for a moment, through the steamy, hazed glass surrounding the large shower, your perfect outline stretched back beneath the pounding water, and then gets rid of his own clothes, tossing his suit to the side, before he slips into the shower to join you.

You glance at him over your shoulder as he enters, wet hair plastered to your skin, lips pulled into a worried pout.

"Channie-" You start to say, but he steps to you and pulls you flush against his bare chest before you can get any of the other words out.

Your arms go around his waist, fingers tickling the skin of his back, and he lets out a long, slow breath, the exhale rustling your hair, your face buried in the planes of his chest.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes softly, and you pull back to look up at him, eyes wide and soft.

"You don't need to apologize." You say, reaching up to shove some of his thick, dark hair back off his forehead, starting to grow heavy with water.

"I do." He nods, staring down at you, letting his finger go beneath your chin, as he traces the line of your lips with the pad of his thumb.

You're so fucking beautiful.

"You're my wife, yes, but you're also a Goddess, and I need to remember that."

You stare up at him silently, letting him continue, and he lets out another breath, reaching his hand up to cup the side of your face, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

"You have your own duties and responsibilities, and I'm being selfish keeping you here. I can't hide you away forever."

The corner of your mouth wrinkles, as if you're thinking about smiling.

"Are you sure?" You nuzzle into his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"As much as I would like to-" He starts, leaning over to press a kiss to the corner of your lips, moving up along your cheekbone. "-I can't. The mortals-and Demeter-need you."

You sigh, he feels it in the way your chest brushes his, and lay your head on his chest, listening for a moment, to his heartbeat.

He strokes your damp hair, and finally you say quietly, "All right. But I don't have to like it, right?" You pull back, looking up at him with a tremble in your bottom lip.

"No, you don't, little blossom." He gives you a half smile, bending his head to press a kiss to your throat, than to the swell of the start of your breast. His cock twitches at the feel of your soft skin beneath his tongue. "I'm sure as fuck not going to like it."

You give a little laugh, slightly watery, and reach up to swipe the tears from your eyes.

"What will you do?" You ask with a shaky breath, staring up at him in a way that makes Chan's heart squeeze, his insides feel tight with all the love he has for you. "While I'm gone?"

He gives a slight shrug, leaning against the shower wall, as you move to start shampooing your hair into a lather.

"Run the Underworld. Judge the mortals. The usual stuff. I mean, what did I do before I had you?"

"Brood." You reply back instantly, glancing at him cheekily over your shoulder as you turn to rinse your hair.

He leaps forward and pins you to the wall as you shriek, tickling your sides as you wriggle to get away from him, laughing so hard it makes you breathless.

He pulls back, letting you breathe, and you push some wet hair from your face, taking in a couple of calming breaths, before your eyes meet his once more.

The mirth disappears from your pretty features, and Chan feels his chest tighten.

"Seriously though, Channie, I-" You swallow, Chan watches your throat bob, and your eyes grow shiny again. "-I don't know how I lived all those eons without you. And now, to have to leave-"

"Hey, hey." He steps toward you once more, caging you in the protection of his arms beneath the warm spray of water. You bury your face in his chest. "Pet. Look at me."

Finally, you do, raising watery eyes to his, and he gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"Listen to me, little blossom." He reaches up, stroking your hair behind your ear. "We're talking about months here. Just a few months topside, to soothe your mother, and then you'll be back home with me before you know it."

You sniff, swiping at your nose, and then nod.

"You're right. I know you are."

Chan gives you a half smile, gentle and soft, and leans down to press a kiss to the part of your lips.

The thought of you leaving his side is ripping him apart, but he manages to keep his expression neutral, if only for you.

He presses another, longer kiss against the column of your throat, and takes a moment to breathe you in.

"I love you. I always have, even before I knew you, even before I saw you, and nothing, and no one, will ever change that. You are, and always will be, my obsession, Goddess of Spring."

You look up at him with tear filled eyes, and lean up to press a kiss to his own lips.

"I love you too, God of the Dead. You're the only thing in my entire, immortal days that has ever managed to bring my heart to life, and I thank you for it."

A genuine smile tugs at Chan's lips now.

"Ironic, coming from the Goddess of Rebirth about the Ruler of Souls."

You give a little laugh, eyes sparkling as you look up at him. "I guess so."

Chan tugs you to him and, determined to memorize how you feel, kisses you long and hard beneath the cooling water of the shower.

Inside his chest, his heart flicks out a shadow to meet the flowering vine snaking from your own.

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"Do you think we're all fated to another?"

You ask, lying beside Chan on the grass, the cool night breeze kissing patterns across your bare skin.

He turns his head to look at you, staring up at the stars overhead, fingers twined within his own.

The ring on your finger brushes his knuckle, and a warm sensation washes over him at the thought that you're his now-for eternity.

"Isn't that mortal shit?" He asks teasingly, and you turn to give him a glare, but it only succeeds in making him more endeared, your nose crinkling up and your lips pursing.

"Well, yes, but-" You shrug, turning back to the sky, reaching up your free hand to splay your fingers against the backdrop of the shimmering stars. "-do you?"

Chan considers.

He's never put much stock in fate, or destiny, or anything else the mortals believe in, and he says as much, rolling over to look at you, his hand skimming your bare hip.

"I don't know. But what I do know is this." He props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you, where you lie, watching him, from the grass.

He lets his finger trail over the marks of his teeth blooming on your shoulder, the love bites already turning purple up the column of your throat, soothed by his tongue.

"Fate is fickle, I don't like to rely on it. Fuck, sometimes, I don't even think I can rely on myself, but I do know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you and I, little blossom? We were meant to be. And nobody, not fate or any of that other shit that mortals believe in, made that happen. We did."

He watches you as you pause, considering, and then you give him a smile that steals his breath, sitting up beside him to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Fuck fate." You breathe against his lips, and right now, in this moment, with your skin pressed against his, your warmth settled firmly in his lap, his ring on your finger, Chan thinks he has to agree.

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Chan trips over one of Cerberus' toys and gives the big dog a glare, tucked safely away under the kitchen table, his head on his paws.

"I swear to god, your mom is coming home today, and if she sees the state you left this house in-" He threatens vaguely, waving the toy around, before tossing it into the basket in the corner.

"I'll what?"

Chan whirls so fast at the sound of your amused voice that he almost gives himself whiplash, turning to face you in the doorway, a grin on your lips and your suitcase in your hand.

You give him a little wave, suddenly shy, as he continues to stare at you, rooted to the spot.

"Hi?"

He's moving then, crashing into you and sweeping you up into his arms with such force that you lose your breath, dropping your suitcase to the floor, as he pulls you in tight to his chest.

You're laughing and crying, and Chan breathes you in, nose pressed to the top of your head, like he's a starving man seeing food for the first time.

You pull back, just enough to smooth your palms over the side of his face, your eyes still shiny with unshed tears.

"I missed you, Channie."

"Fuck." He breathes out, crushing you back to him again, never letting you go. "I missed you too, little blossom."

You laugh again, a watery sound, and press kisses to every inch of his face you can reach from his embrace.

Chan feels like he can finally breathe properly for the first time in months.

"What did you think about while I was gone?" You ask, your eyes sparkling, as if you already know the answer.

He lets out the breath he's been holding, and leans forward to kiss you breathless.

"You." He breathes back in response, and your lips part with pleasure at his answer. "Always you."

And then he kisses you long enough to make up for all the time missed-past and present.

428 notes · View notes

lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 2 years ago

Text

THE MASK- J.B BARNES

Pairing: Boyfriend! Bucky x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Request: you convince bucky that every few months, your skin starts to peel off during your period :)

Warnings: nothing much, just swearing, readers period mentioned, the rest is all super fluffy and sweet<33

You drummed your fingers against the polished granite vanity, mindlessly gazing at yourself in the bathroom mirror. The drain from the soaker tub gurgled, the last remains of the warm water and lavender bubble bath trickling down the drain.

Bucky’s sweater hung heavy on you, the warm, fleece fabric draping down past your knees as you slid it on. Your skin felt like a baby’s bottom due to the lotion you had rubbed all over yourself, smelling of fresh linens.

It was the last day of your period, thank god- and all you could think to do to celebrate not dying was to reward yourself with a self-care day. It had been a stressful week, the hormones not helping any matters to your already stressful work life.

It had been a whirlwind of emotions, heavy flow, cramps so painful you thought they could be contractions, headaches… anything under the sun- you name it, you had it.

Bucky had been with you the whole way through, and you were beyond thankful for him and his thoughtfulness towards the matter. He had never complained, or found it gross. He just comforted you the best he could, and that was all you could ever ask for.

You thought of him now as the candle flickered in the corner, flames licking the air as you were deep in thought. You had done every self-care thing you could possibly think of, a warm bath, a candle, a good book, and some good skin care. You had even painted your nails earlier- which was saying a lot. You had never been able to make time for that.

The only thing you could think of was a face mask. You smiled, happy you had thought of such a brilliant idea. When was the last time you managed to do one? You couldn't even remember. Your skin would be very, very thankful- especially during this time of the month.

You crouched down, opening cupboards and drawers to try and find a mask. No luck. With a sigh, you grabbed your phone- background of Bucky and your kitty Alpine sleeping together on the couch peering up at you.

Dialing his number, you let it ring, though it was no longer than five seconds before you heard an answer.

“Hiya sugarplum. What can I do you for?” he asked cheerfully, and you couldn't stop the smile that blossomed across your face, and the way your toes curled in their fuzzy socks at the sound of his husky voice.

“Ohhh nothin much. Just wondering if you’re still downtown.”

“I’m meeting up with the guys in twenty minutes to grab the takeout and then we’re heading back. Did you need something honey?”

You heard a little thump from the bedroom, Alpine jumping down from his nest to trot over to you as you made your way to stretch out on the soft bed.

“Could you grab me a facemask from the drugstore? I’ll send you a picture of what it looks like.”

“Of course babe. And yes, please do because you know I’m no good with those things. Anything else?” There was a honk that sounded from his end, the sound of streetcars and bustles of people passing him by. You could bet a million dollars he was on Fifth, which was perfect since you knew there was a drugstore in that same area.

That made you feel less guilty about asking, even though he insisted that he enjoyed picking up little things for you. The dozens of flowers, stuffies and little things he had picked up on, like your favourite nail polish (when you did have the time to do them), your favourite sweets and goodies were stocked in your shared loft at all times to prove it.

“No that’s all baby. I’ll send you some money.”

“Oh hush your pretty lips. Mwah!” he kissed the phone, and before you could insist on anything, he hung up. You sighed, tossing your phone somewhere on the large bed, snuggling into a fuzzy warm blanket as Alpine joined for cuddles.

“We never can win with him can we angel? He’s so good to us.” you smiled, scratching under his chin as he purred loudly, claiming a spot beside your stomach to curl up in a ball.

“I guess we’ll just have to repay him with kisses when he gets home, won't we?”

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The night was in full swing- although that didn't mean much for tonight. It was relaxing and laid back, takeout boxes scattered on the kitchen counter, hockey game playing on the flatscreen.

Bucky had returned right as expected, not only with a face mask but with your favourite chocolate as well. You nibbled on it now as everyone sprawled out on the couch, Natasha and Wanda joining the pair of you with Sam and Steve.

You sat tangled with Bucky, slumped back against his chest, the slight tickle of the facial hair bringing you comfort as you snuggled closer to him. It was then you remembered the face mask, now sitting on your bathroom vanity. You wiggled out of his gentle embrace, through the tangles of blankets and long limbs of your friends to grab a piece of popcorn, popping it in your mouth.

“You guys wanna do a mask?” you asked the girls after the buttery goodness has been swallowed, the guys too focused on the game to notice you had even stood up.

They nodded, and the three of you made your way through the hallway with Alpine on your heels back out to the bathroom. “Ooo a peel one? I haven’t done one of these in forever.” Wanda smiled, holding the bottle in the faint golden light as she read the directions.

“Me either. That's why I asked Bucko to grab me one.” You hopped up on the counter beside the sink, letting your feet dangle and kick against the wooden drawers as Nat held your hands out, examining your nails in the light.

“He’s such a sweetheart to you. I want him next.” Natasha sighed, and you kicked her thighs gently as she laughed.

“There will be no next dummy duck. Plus, Steve has been eying you up all night. For weeks now, actually. It’s making me want to vomit.”

“Like you and Bucky don’t do that all the time. It’s like you have a bullseye on your ass. And tits. And face. That man’s seriously in love, ya know.”

You watched as Wanada smeared the clear, jelly like on her face, and you did the same. It was cool to the touch, smelling faintly of citrus, and you relaxed as the mask started to harden on your face.

“Should I peel mine off in front of the guys to freak em out?” You giggled, knowing the look on Bucky's face would be priceless. You couldn’t want to go out and show him. The girls fought to keep a straight face as the timer went off, and the three of you walked out to the main room.

It was dim enough they wouldn't be able to see the edges of the mask, and the fact it was clear helped your case even more. You sat next to Bucky, acting as nothing had changed.

“So what's the plan for tomorrow?” you asked nonchalantly, starting to slowly peel the mask from your skin. It felt like snakes skin between your fingers as you felt it slightly tugging on your pores.

“Oh, I was just thinking we could sleep in or- WHAT THE FUCK?!” Bucky gasped, frozen and place as he watched you remove the mask. Steve and Sam sat up, startled at his sudden outburst, watching you with alarm

“What? Didn’t you know that women shed their skin during the last day of their period?” you asked casually, holding back a giggle as you saw Natasha and Wanda with their hands clamped over their mouths, fighting the fit of laughter at the guys reaction.

“No?! This actually happens?” he asked, mouth agape as the “skin” sat in your palm, flaking and dried at the edges.

“Well duh.” you shrugged and you watched as his eyes flickered over to Sam’s as to say what the fuck. “Oh so you’d love me if I were a worm, but you don’t love me now that I shed skin? Thanks baby.” you remarked, tone slightly agitated despite wanting to shake him silly.

“No, no it’s not that-”

“Oh you dumbass it’s a mask! Did you really think I was a snake?” you exclaimed, swatting his arm playfully. Natasha and Wanda couldn't hold back any longer, their laughter following yours as the guys calmed down.

“Well how was I supposed to know it's a mask? It looks clear!” he guessed, making you laugh even harder. “You guys are lucky you’re cute. Cause there's nothing up there.” Wanada joked, tapping her temple.

“You guys are mean. Really fuckin mean.” Sam sighed, head slouching back against the cushions while the three of you disposed of the masks.

“You love us.” you smiled, kissing the top of his head before you swung your body over the back of the couch- back into the safety of Bucky's arms.

“I love you the most though. My beautiful little snake.” he cooed, to which you rolled your eyes.

“Only yours babe.”

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thebekerslegecy · 3 months ago

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👑 MEDIEVAL MODS + CC | The BEKER LEGECY

I am currently playing Morbid’s ULTIMATE Decades Challenge. Below is a list of all of the Mods + CC I am using in my game🐝

🍯 MODS: Wicked Whims (+18) MC Command Center MC Woohoo More Traits in CAS Royalty Mod Medieval Interactions Ye Olde Cookbook + Stoves +Fires Require Wood + Hunting & Foraging Mod Home Region +Townie Demographics by Kuttoe Fashion Authority 2 by Lot51 Functional Broom Functional Loom Functional Pottery Wheel Archery Skill Blacksmithing Skill Historical Simolean Override - English Shillings Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything Playable Harp + Lute Functional Horses & Carriages, No Helmet Create Campfire Bonfire Anywhere Arranged Marriages Custom Farm Animals Purchase Custom Animals Zero’s Historical Mods (pickpocket, disease, etc.) Phone to Notebook Replacement Sippy Cup + Toys Default Replacements Stuff for Pets Natural Knitting Stuff PreTeen LittleMsSam Mods ( Pick what you want) Sims4me

🐝 CC:

🍯Build:

TSR Ye Medieval - Ligna Windows Set TSR Ye Medieval - Timber Frame Walls TSR Ye Medieval - Framework Walls TSR - Broken Wood Door TSR Ye Medieval - Soil Terrain TSR Ye Medieval - Hay Ground Terrain

🐝Objects:

Lili’s Palace - Folklore Set No. 1 Linzlu’s Frontier Items TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 1 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 2 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 3 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 4 TRS Ye Medieval - Tristan Bathroom TSR Ye Medieval - Tavern Part 1 TSR Ye Medieval - Candle Holder TSR - Skara Stool TSR - The Old Garden Boat TSR - The Old Garden Quay Fish Market Decor Fish Rack Fish Crate V1 Fish Crate V2 Bohrium Vegetables I Old Rustic Well (“Eco Living” version) Stable Set by Moriel Rustic Animal Shed Rustic Chicken Coop Rustic Bee Box Bassinet + Infant Crib SimsHistoricalfinds tumblr (directory) SIMS 4 MEDIEVAL CC TheSenseMedieval Allhistorical cc tumblr Medieval & Fantasy Mods List | Notion Kosmic Hippie's CC Finds — 👑 MEDIEVAL MODS + CC | The Sims 4 antiquated plumbobs : Directory CC Finds Navigation

🍯CAS:

TheSimsResource (Ye Medieval) TheSimsResource (Sifix) Simverses Melancholy Maiden | creating Historical Sims 4 CC | Patreon satterlly | creating The Sims 4 CC | Patreon

🐝 SAVE FILE:

Srsly’s Blank Save Map Replacement Medieval Windenburg Medieval Map Replacement

🍯MY SIMS 4 MEDIEVAL WORLDS:

How to change sims4 world names (for existing save) How to change sims4 world names ( for new save)

Kingdom of France – Willow Creek’ Mali Empire – Oasis Springs’ Kingdom of Norway – Newcrest’ Inca Empire – Granite Falls’ Holy Roman Empire – Windenburg’ Kingdom of Denmark– Magnolia Promenade’ Republic of Genoa – San Myshuno’ Kingdom of Hungary – Forgotten Hollow’ Grand Duchy of Lithuania – Brindleton Bay’ Aztec Empire – Selvadorada’ Kingdom of Sicily – Del Sol Valley’ Ottoman Empire – StrangerVille’ Hawai’i – Sulani’ Kingdom of Scotland- Glimmerbrook’ Duchy of Milan – Brightchester’ Maya city-states – Evergreen Harbor’ Tatooine– Batuu’ Goryeo– Mt. Komorebi’ Kingdom of England – Henford-on-Bagley’ Republic of Venice– Tartosa’ Duchy of Burgundy – Moonwood Mill’ Kingdom of Aragon – Copperdale’ Mongol Empire – San Sequoia’ Mamluk Sultanate – Chestnut Ridge’ Kingdom of Ayutthaya – Tomarang’ Kingdom of Castile - Ciudad Enamorada

#MyCCList #1300s #decades challenge #historical challenge #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #sims 4 historical #sims 4 legacy #ultimate decades challenge #THEBEKERLEGACY #the1300s

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angelwithdemonictendencies · 8 days ago

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i could never be lost, all the street signs read your name; is this the same place you once kissed me?

make yourself at home; chapter one.

6.5k. no warnings besides tension and parental disapproval and mentions of beauty standards (and tedious amounts of exposition).

(a/n: okay, favorites. to those of you that remember my tyson story, this chapter will look very familiar. i added this beautiful gif in honor of that. i promise that the other chapters (like, from three onwards) will be practically entirely new. with that being said, it is my pleasure to introduce you to olive and russell. you'll see as we progress, but do not be fooled by the "she's not like other girls" potential this story has. i hope to prove to you that the kind of beauty that i'm talking about is all about kindness and patience and thoughtfulness. all i ask is that you give this is shot. if it's not for you, if you can't look past the lack of x reader or direct hockey relationship, that's completely okay. olive, at one point, was simply "kid'" - the way some of my characters have been sugar or baby or doll. and russell was once tyson. i am incredibly nervous to share this with you, to embark and commit to sharing more with you in the future. as such, i hope you will respect and honor my vulnerability. but i'm also excited! very much so! to you and your snakes. thank you thank you thank you. and i still want to gush about hockey with you - just send me an ask! love you always).

it had probably been too long since olive fleming had been home. it had probably been too long since she’d last ventured back to granite falls, new york, but, in her defense, the trek from los angeles was long and daunting. olive made the trip as infrequently as possible, so each time she found herself back in this town, part of her expected it to look unrecognizable. it never did.

it was impossible not to recognize the slow-moving streets, lined by pine trees and the same storefronts, same quaint buildings, same lightposts that needed repairing. every time she drove through, olive felt a stab of guilt in her chest that she swallowed down dry, like some hefty pill.

the directions displayed on the screen of her phone were more a comfort than a necessity - she would know the route to her street blindfolded, maybe dead, but it was sort of nice to think that she needed help getting there, to think that she had grown up so much that she no longer knew this place the way you know the songs that your that dad used to play in the car on the way to school when you were young - entirely and wholly, if not a little senselessly.

in what felt like a blink, olive had already made it into the driveway, her subtly luxurious suv suddenly feeling much too big and attention-seeking. she felt as if she might as well have been driving a limousine, maybe one of those sleek borderline race-cars painted some flashy color. something entirely out of place, something desperately screaming look at me, even though she didn’t want anyone to see her at all. even her reflection in the rearview mirror above the dashboard made her flinch. meeting her own eyes was recognition enough to be jarring.

olive finally shifted her car into park and unbuckled her seatbelt, her hands still gripping the wheel hard enough that her knuckles paled. "arrived at home," the robotic voice from her phone said, which made her choke out a short laugh, ugly and tired. in all ways but the ones that mattered, yes, she supposed, this was home, at least for a little while longer. just until she packed up all her things from her parents’ house, just until she drove her life back to los angeles and stayed there, this time for good.

would it be frowned upon to leave the car running? just in case she needed to make a quick exit, like some blockbuster-movie spy, tucking and rolling from a plane mid-flight? olive groaned, laid her head down against the steering wheel, careful not to press her forehead down hard enough to honk.

this was exactly what coming home always felt like - frustration to the point of madness, self control to the point of lunacy. home left olive crazy, either way.

“you must be so excited to get out of your favorite city,” her manager, celeste, had said to her over the phone just before she left. celeste was something of a close friend, after a few years of partnering and working together. she was fully aware of olive’s subpar relationship with her hometown, but she also knew olive wasn’t the biggest fan of los angeles either. olive had entertained the possibility that she was just hard to please on multiple occasions.

olive had laughed at this comment. “oh, for sure,” she had agreed, “but out of the frying pan and into the fire, you know.” Into the longest-burning fire she’d ever known. she was thinking about that conversation with her manager when a sharp knock on her car window forced her head to snap up.

olive’s mother, danica, was looking warily at her from the other side of the glass as she rolled down her window, blinking at the woman she hadn’t seen in a while, registering her presence while attempting to summon a normal reaction.

“hey, mom,” was the lackluster greeting olive landed on, internally cringing at her tone. she realized she was still gripping the steering wheel and dropped her hands to her lap as if she’d been burned, the way you’re taught to when caught in a lightning storm.

her mother let out a soft laugh, but her gaze was sharp. “going to wait out in the car all day, are you?” she asked. olive could feel her heartbeat in her head, the kind of pressure she always felt when on this end of her family’s disapproval. “come in, olive, not like we get to see you every day.”

olive felt a smile stretch across her face, false and heavy like a waxy halloween mask, like her lip gloss weighed something severe. “yeah, i’ll be right in,” she said, willing any shake out of her voice. “it’s good to see you.”

her mother murmured her agreement before turning to head back inside, which olive supposed was better than nothing. an important reminder that things could be so much worse, that she could be grateful for what she had, that someone better probably would be.

olive took a last stabilizing breath before finally getting out of the car, pulling her suitcases from the trunk and entering her childhood home through the front door.

she’s back? the doorbell seemed to whisper to the bushes by the porch steps, it’s been a while, no?

the bushes shook their heads in condemnation, she’s so unappreciative, they said, so selfish and vain.

“you don’t know me,” olive muttered as she lifted her luggage into the doorway, the wheels on the bottom making a clicking noise as they made contact with the hardwood of the mudroom. she could hear her mother humming quietly in the kitchen.

“who are you talking to?”

olive recognized that slow and deliberate voice as her father, jerry, and quickly turned to greet him, eager to change the subject away from her talking to inanimate objects and plants. “dad,” she said, smiling at him despite his sour expression. “how’s it going?”

“is that a new car?” he asked, bypassing a hello, his gaze already wandering from her, straying to her vehicle through the window. her stomach turned. she knew what was coming. “how’d you afford a new car?”

olive laughed, like he’d said something tastefully funny, waved him off. “my job pays me for what I do, dad,” she clarified, “you know how jobs work.” olive regretted it immediately. she realized how patronizing she sounded.

her father’s grimace and grumbly voice wasn’t lost on her. “right,” he said, “your job.” his voice took on a slight sarcastic tone at the last word, even though she supposed that was to be expected. it still stung, just as it had before she left for college, just as it had during every venture back to granite falls before this one.

“let her put her things away, jerry,” danica called from the next room over. he started to roll his eyes, then appeared to remember he had an audience midway through, his annoyance dissolving instantaneously into something like boredom.

he nodded to olive. “off you go, then,” he said, phrasing odd and stiff, like some black-and-white film actor, making olive scrunch her nose up in distaste as she lugged her bags up the staircase and rolled them into her bedroom, the last door at the end of the hallway.

upon entering, her gaze flickered to her bed, low to the ground, the comforter a pastel pink, the sheets printed with a pretty tulip pattern. it was every bit the bed of a child, but there was something she liked about it, even now.

olive sighed, pushed her suitcases to the closet door and left them there before sitting down on the edge of her bed, letting herself fall back until she felt the softness of her sheets on the back of her neck. travel always took it out of her, but this fatigue went deeper than just jet lag. it was a tiredness she felt in her chest, on the roof of her mouth, coating her throat like a lemon ginger lozenge.

olive wanted to enjoy being home more than anything. the desire ran so deep it felt like it had infected her bloodstream. she wanted to feel comfortable and welcome, like she belonged here, but she didn’t, not really. she hadn’t felt that way in a while, probably not since she was a teenager. at twenty-two, that felt scarily long ago.

she exhaled and rose again, looking around her room with displeasure. the space was just so cluttered. even her bedside table was practically overflowing with trinkets and picture frames, old books and school binders. sorting through everything and packing it up was probably going to be quite the laborious task, could take longer than she anticipated. was this room smaller than she remembered it? the walls closer together, the ceiling lower, perhaps?

“dinner’s ready!”

her mother’s voice once again shook olive from her thoughts, her eyelids fluttering. “coming!”

family dinners at the fleming household had taken on many shapes and sizes over the years. When danica had been in the thick of her corporate law career, as demanding as anything, such events had not existed on a consistent basis. instead, olive and her father would scramble to put together something like cereal, or pasta with butter, or if they were feeling fancy, tomato soup and grilled cheese. olive’s mother always ate at her firm, or on the way home.

danica, thanks to her hard work, was able to retire quite early, not into lavish wealth or anything resembling it, but early enough and into a general sense of comfort. it was then that family dinners became a bit more frequent in the household. after jerry got home from work, he would call olive down from her bedroom, and then the three of them would sit around their small table, chatting about whatever had occurred during the short time they had spent apart.

of course, once olive reached a certain age, she wasn’t always around for dinner time, and her parents didn’t require her to be. it did mean that they grew sort of out of practice though, as olive was home less and less. when olive went to college across the country, that lack of familiarity wasn’t really felt, but whenever she was home from school, when they were all forced together again, the walls felt to olive as if they had some tripwire hidden within them, some explosive ticking regularly, louder each time that she did something that amassed disapproval.

as olive walked down the stairs now, her steps light enough to not make a sound, she attempted to mentally prepare herself, then shook her head, almost laughing. it was funny, mentally preparing oneself for salad and roasted chicken.

“is this a new wallpaper?” olive asked cordially as she pulled a wooden chair out and sat down, folding her napkin and placing it in her lap.

“no,” danica responded.

olive had never really been able to miss the slight pinch in her mother’s brow, minute but telling in its distaste. “same wallpaper as always. you don’t remember?”

olive forced the corner of her mouth to turn up in a smile, but her stomach was churning with something other than travel-induced hunger. “it looks great, was all i was going to say. like new.”

unfortunately, such awkwardness did not evaporate as the dinner progressed, the lack of ease sitting atop the table as naturally as the floral centerpiece. olive expertly tried to veer the conversation away from herself as gracefully as possible, instead oversaturating the discussion with questions directed at her parents.

olive was usually quite good at saying the right thing. it was a huge part of her job, of her success. she knew what to say in different situations, with different people, in front of different audiences. home left her deft tongue fumbling though, left words feeling out of reach in her mind, like her mouth was not her own.

she asked questions about her father’s work and cooking endeavors, her mother’s home renovations and volunteer work at the daycare, but whenever they asked her about her own work, olive would clam up, maybe give that nervous laugh that she disliked so genuinely, make some joke at her own expense.

by the end of the meal, olive was thoroughly exhausted, socially drained in a way she hadn’t been in a long time. it didn’t really make a lot of sense to her - she could work a crowd of thousands at an awards show, craft a post palatable for millions, but a simple dinner with her family was where she stumbled?

“thanks for having me,” was what she said to her parents after she had placed her plate and silverware in the dishwasher, drying her hands with a rag before making to head up to her room.

this was the wrong thing to say, if her father’s voice and the twitch of his mouth was anything to go off of. “this is your house,” he said, simple, plain, and olive didn’t even look at her mother, for fear that she’d see some kind of sadness or disappointment that would keep her awake that night.

“right, of course,” she tried, “i just mean thanks. for, you know, letting me stay here on such short notice.”

“what, like we’re a hotel?” danica said, almost humorous, but there was a shake in her voice that olive read as a storm siren, scarily close to something disastrous.

olive sighed. it wasn’t her parents’ fault, and she knew that. olive knew her wording could be taken as offensive, but she just couldn’t see it until after the words were already out, until they were of no use to anyone. “no, just,” she tried, then gave up, figuring maybe she just needed some sleep to make her brain work again. “goodnight. love you both.” she’d try again tomorrow.

danica and jerry seemed to soften a bit at this, each quietly returning the sentiment in harmony with olive’s soft footsteps up the staircase, wooden panels giving a comforting creak under her socks, some reminder that she was a physical body, that her weight could be felt.

tomorrow will be better, olive thought as she unzipped one of her suitcases, pulled out her pajamas and got changed. what she really wanted to do was sink into her bed, sleep the day off and start fresh in the morning.

“fifteen minutes,” she murmured to herself, her bag of skincare products in one hand, phone and ring light clawed in the other. “just fifteen minutes.”

after several years of practice, olive could crank out a get unready with me video in just a few moments, but something about setting up her tripod and lighting mechanisms in her childhood bathroom was intimidating, the crossover of worlds leaving her sluggish and self-conscious.

her apartment in los angeles was practically built for this kind of thing, all ample storage and spacious countertops, and this room was built to be exactly what it was: a child’s bathroom. it offered not much other than backlighting and cramped corners, faded wallpaper and shower curtains yellowing towards the corners.

olive quickly set up, took a deep breath and summoned a smile, the one reserved for this - the one for video and film and interviews and social media posts. just big enough to appear genuine, just subdued enough to be sexy, mysterious. once the camera was rolling, she ran through her nighttime routine, highlighting the moisturizer she was being paid to endorse, before quickly cutting the clips and typing out a caption: get unready with me at home! She sent the video to her management to be approved by the brand before turning off her harsh light and setting it next to her bag on the closed toilet lid.

even after several years of working in social media, several years of visiting home every now and then, it felt weird to mix the two of them together, almost like a middle school science project with oil and water, like no matter how hard she tried for it to be a natural fit, the two would always make their repulsion known.

olive brushed her teeth, her phone buzzing as she spat into the sink. With so much of her life existing on her phone, such an occurrence was mundane, but the name that lit up her screen made her blink at herself in the mirror, made the overhead light feel hot, simmering.

are the rumors true? read the message, is the starlet back in town?

olive sighed, couldn't help the tiny smile that pulled at the corner of her lips, regardless - even though she was no starlet, even though the thought of small-town rumors made her breath feel short and shallow.

as much as coming home made her want to tear out her hair extensions one by one, as much as the monotonous judgment from this town made her almost dizzy, there was one thing, or one person rather, whose relentless sameness olive looked forward to, every time, without fail.

that person was russell mcIntyre.

olive had known russell practically forever, or at least for what felt like forever, ever since he and his family moved next door the summer before they started middle school. she still remembered seeing him for the first time, watching from her big bedroom window as he carried boxes from his mom's minivan up his driveway.

it had started as all lovely things did - so naturally it was hard to pinpoint how exactly it had started. olive swore she could remember his green eyes meeting her brown ones through the window, his unruly curly hair in his face, like he’d only just woken up, the easiest smile she’d ever seen slanting across his mouth, only barely visible above battered cardboard flaps. still, she didn't dwell on what exactly had been the beginning of her and russell, knowing it didn’t really matter how it began, only that it was.

all olive really knew was that throughout middle school and high school, russell had been her everything. her school bus seat buddy, her locker neighbor, her smile shared across the classroom.

he was the one who cheered the loudest at her tennis matches, and she never missed one of his baseball games. he was over hers doing homework every weekday, she was the first person he picked up when he got his license, when he finally could drive his old truck without his anxious mother holding on tight in the passenger seat. russell was her secret language spoken between opposing bedroom windows, curtains pulled far apart so as not to intrude one’s view of the other while they talked.

of course, as he shed his baby face and she got her braces off, things changed a bit, but not really. olive was still his stop it, rus, giggled under her breath when he'd make goofy faces in class, just to get her to laugh.

russell was still her you'll be there, right, kid? spoken so earnestly on the morning of a playoff game, something like worry clouding his usually relentlessly bright eyes. worry that had floated away when she’d hugged him close, mumbled her of course into his chest.

his constant support, his never-wavering smirk of a smile, it had been exactly what she needed during one of the most turbulent times of her life.

high school is weird for everybody, but it was especially weird for olive. she was a people pleaser, an approval seeker, and at some point she began to realize that others weren't always as forgiving as she was, that other people may not give her the benefit of the doubt, as she tended to afford them for free.

it got worse when olive realized that she was pretty.

sometimes, olive felt as if she had been beautiful since she could listen, since she could first turn her gaze on someone and make them feel heard, make them feel seen.

that was a big part of it all - her quiet kindness, combined with that lovely smile, with that careful posture and easy laugh - it seemed that others had become acutely aware of her beauty long before she had. She caught on, eventually.

olive was sixteen when she started to feel the weight of male attention on her in the hallways, when her bare legs in the warm weather started to feel heavy with expectation, when she started to notice how groups of girls would turn and giggle behind their hands when they thought she was just out of earshot.

it was exciting, at first. girls wanted to talk to her, to be close with her. guys wanted to hang out with her. people wanted to give her things, seemingly for nothing. she distinctly remembered one humid night, in russell's bedroom, just after he had driven them both home after his practice. his hair had been damp at the roots, his face still a bit flushed in that rosy way she loved.

he'd been scrolling on his phone while she worked on a geometry problem set, half-focused, the other half telling him about the senior in her economics class who had asked for her snapchat. olive could still picture russell’s narrow gaze, barely looking up from his screen.

"you know he doesn't want to, like, marry you, right, ol?" he'd said, and it was so flippant that it made her pause.

olive had looked up, blinked, felt suddenly so embarrassed she thought she might be sick. "what?" she asked, "yeah, of course, I just-"

"like, he knows nothing about you besides you being hot," russell finished, almost coldly, rolling onto his side on the beanbag he was sprawled across.

and he was right, obviously, but it still felt really mean, felt like tiny drops of flame were pricking at her cheeks. olive felt that she actually might cry.

"why do you have to say it like that?" she’d asked, hating how pathetic her voice sounded, how it broke towards the end.

this must have gotten his attention, because when russell finally looked up, his eyes flooded with gentle apology. he let his phone fall to the side, opened up his arms in invitation.

"i’m sorry," he mumbled into her hair when she joined him on his beanbag, let him wrap his arms around her. "'m sorry, ol, know that was mean. i'm just jealous, i think." his tone was so matter-of-fact, not trying to hide anything. olive supposed he had always been like that.

she laughed softly into his breastbone, felt the warmth of him all over her face. "you're jealous?" she asked, "what do you have to be jealous about?"

then he gave olive her favorite kind of smile, the one that gave her butterflies even now, even just at the memory. "maybe 'cause you're in my room, and you're smilin' 'cause of some other guy," he mused, which made her look up at him, find his gaze drenched in completely genuine adoration.

she hummed.

"and i've been trying to get you to see that i like you, and it hasn't been working-"

her heart stuttered, because of course she liked russell. how could she not, when he was her everything? when he had been the one who had declared her special, before everyone else had seemed to catch on?

"you like me?" olive had repeated, almost like a prayer, and his big, beautiful eyes had shimmered with something lovely, something almost bashful.

olive swore she could feel something rumbling against his chest. "well, yeah," he said, "but i don't wanna lose you, kid, so if you don't feel the same way-"

she’d cut him off by pressing her lips to his in a kiss that felt like sunshine, like a sigh of relief, like pillow forts and fall foliage and sunday morning waffles. so, from then on, not only was olive the beautiful girl, she was the beautiful girl dating the budding baseball superstar, her best friend, her everything.

as such, olive was seventeen when she realized that as much as it may have seemed that people wanted to give her things, they wanted to take things from her more. much more. still, as long as she had her small group of friends, and her grades, and her parents, and russell, she told herself she didn't really need everyone to love her.

as long as she was kind and generous and empathetic, everything would be fine.

it grew tough to turn the other cheek all the time, though. especially when guys didn't seem to respect that she was in a relationship, when people were starting rumors about her sleeping around, when girls tried to get with her boyfriend just to prove they could take him from her. they were never successful, but it hurt nonetheless.

still, she would go to every one of russell's games, as long as he would jog to the fence afterwards to give her a goofy kiss, like he'd missed her, even for just the few hours he'd been playing.

olive would ignore the snide comments in the stands about her outfits as long as he'd whistle afterwards, wrap his arms around her waist, pull her back against him and tell her that he almost dropped an easy ball in the third because she had looked so distracting.

she’d let people assume that she was dumb and obnoxious and entitled as long as he'd ask her about her advanced calculus tests, her data analytics internship over the summer, her speech and debate competition. and that was enough. for high school, that was enough.

inevitably, it became clear that people wanted what olive had, no matter what it was, no matter how hard she had worked for it.

olive was eighteen when she realized that she could make a career out of people wanting things that she had.

as much as her parents didn’t seem to believe her, social media was something olive stumbled upon accidentally.

just a random post one day, a couple of pictures of her on the tennis court, a few of her in the stands at one of Russell's games, and rather suddenly, olive was flushed with followers and likes, more than she knew what to do with.

of course, this only made the rumors worse, but her real friends thought it was funny, and russell thought it was awesome, so she didn't mind. she just continued posting exactly what she always did - her outfits and weekends and dinners and the like - nothing crazy, always tasteful, always genuine.

it was only a matter of time before brands were reaching out to her, before she suddenly had the need for management, before her social media accounts actually started to become a source of income.

even at the very beginning, olive recognized how lucky she was for this to even be an option for her - how it was mostly because of something as shallow as appearances, how there was nothing more vain, more potentially vapid than social media.

she never cared about the numbers of it all though, never looked twice at pictures of herself, never scrolled through her comments. russell was always the first to like her posts anyways, always commenting first! followed by a string of incoherent emojis, usually including the flame one. once it started to become a business, olive let it be just a business, trying her absolute hardest not to invest any personal stock into her work, making sure to turn her phone off as often as possible.

russell would text her, too, after she posted, something like love the filter on the second photo! or quite the handsome hand in the fourth :) about a picture of her coffee that he was holding. enough to let her know that he looked at every picture, that he supported her unconditionally, even though olive herself sort of thought the whole ordeal was kind of suspicious, that social media was dumb and not worth anyone's time. her skepticism of her own work was something of an obstacle then and something of constant now.

given the flash-flood-like nature of her success, olive was at a bit of a crossroads towards the end of high school. she wanted to get a college degree, that was non-negotiable, but it seemed too good to be true that she could be paid just for being herself online, just for developing a personal brand. it seemed too good to pass up.

before she knew it, it was time to apply for university, and it only made sense for olive to aim at schools in los angeles, across the country, but right in the arrhythmic heart of her industry.

olive was a good student too, and a hard worker, a quick learner, so she was accepted to her top choice, a school that her parents could brag to their friends about, if they wanted to.

everything about olive’s choice made logical sense.

just as it only made sense for russell to play for the state school, the reigning champions of their respective league and only a forty-five minute drive from granite falls.

he’d been getting recruited since he was a freshman, and even though he offered every day, the thought of russell changing his whole plan and future for her made olive nauseous.

long distance loomed over the two of them like a thunderous cloud, and the weight of it felt more deadly than just calling it off, even though splitting up with Russell was still the most painful thing olive could remember enduring.

she vividly remembered him dropping her off at the airport, insisting on carrying her suitcases all the way to security, even if he had to leave his truck idle in the departing flight zone, even though he was definitely going to get a ticket about it.

of course, she still remembered how his bright eyes had gone glassy, how he still tried to smile despite his slightly quivering bottom lip. how he'd shuddered in her embrace when she hugged him goodbye. how small his broad shoulders had seemed.

"you'll come back, kid?" he'd asked, almost pleaded, into her neck.

"of course, rus," she’d said, but even the memory of the words felt weightless. "don't forget to call me, okay? every day, if you can."

he had laughed, short and choppy, wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, like the child that he had been. his voice was wobbly. "i’d never forget," he said, and it had felt true then.

and so olive and her everything went separate ways. she fell into a routine in california, balanced school and her relatively new job as an influencer. russell had a routine of his own, too, practice and lifts and games and the odd class here and there.

she called everyday, in the beginning, heard about how everyone was really good on rus’s new team, how he was nervous on the field for basically the first time ever, how classes were hard and everything was hard without her.

olive told him about how smart and cool the girls in her classes were, how she really, really wanted them to like her, how she found herself going to baseball games in the fall just because it felt familiar, something to recognize in an unfamiliar fairytale land.

he'd gotten a sad sort of tone in his voice at that. "how's their shortstop?" he had asked, and her stomach had flipped, because that was his position, and she had a feeling she knew what he was looking for, the only answer that would satisfy him.

"i've seen better," olive had whispered into her phone, the weight of missing him like an anvil on her chest.

even though she and russell weren't together, at that time, in the technical sense of the word, it still sort of felt like they were.

there were guys, sure, and she could only guess what a hit russell was with the sorority end of greek row. olive wasn’t typically a jealous person, but something sickly rolled through her body at the thought of russell being someone’s class crush, of someone looking him up on the roster after seeing him play. it was a jealousy that she wasn’t necessarily entitled to, but it was there nonetheless.

olive pretended not to notice, over facetime, when there would be purplish bruises on the column of his throat. she pretended not to notice how angry it made her that someone else knew what his pulse felt like under their lips, especially when it was that feeling in particular that had made its way into her dreams.

just as russell probably pretended not to notice when the back of some other guy's head would make an appearance in one of olive’s posts, just intriguing and secretive enough to run up the comments, to make her interaction data spike.

even during those years apart, russell still liked every single one of her pictures, still texted her about almost every one of them, but for those ones, the ones that shimmered with someone-else-ness, he was notably silent. during those times, olive would find herself checking her phone even without a ping-like notification, like her want alone could will his name onto her screen.

neither of them seemed to like the notion that one had an entire life away from the other. both of them seemed to agree that what they couldn’t see right in front of them couldn't hurt them, as long as they didn’t let it.

every school break though, without fail, the two of them would come home and fall back into whatever they were, without explicitly saying what that was.

What olive knew was that when they were home for thanksgiving, or christmas, or a week in spring, or whatever else, her phone would light up with a text like heard you're around?

usually the night that followed would involve huddling together on the massive bean bag that was still in his room, pretending to watch a movie for a half-hour or so before his lips found hers and her hands found the warm plane of his chest. the air would be hot with the unspoken truth of just one more time, just until i leave, just for a second because i missed you.

he never treated her differently, never made fun of her job, even though it would have been so easy to, never was anything but supportive. he was the same gangly boy walking up his driveway, and she was the same shy girl looking at him from her bedroom window, even if that shy girl now had hair extensions and a bit of lip filler and received invitations to black-tie events.

russell never seemed to care about all of that, anyways, even as years went on, and they both returned home less and less, texts and calls becoming less frequent, the distant presence of the other like the lull of a fan at night, a relaxant, a constant white noise, a standard off of which to judge everything else.

now, as olive turned the light out in the bathroom and walked towards her bed, she stared out her window, could almost make russell out in the one just across from her if she tried. the image of him wasn’t particularly hard to evoke, always waiting just in the wings of the playwright’s perfectly scripted performance in her mind. olive leaned back against her headboard, stared at the text. there was a bittersweet sort of taste in her mouth, because this actually would be the last time.

olive and russell had both graduated about a month ago, and after being picked in the draft by the team he had grown up cheering for, he had moved back home to play for their minor league affiliate, not even twenty minutes from his parents’ house, hoping to gain enough traction to eventually earn a spot in the big leagues.

this time would be olive's last routine visit home, one she hoped to spend packing and shipping all of her stuff back to la. the move only made sense. she had an absurd amount of followers now, and all her biggest partners were located in southern california. olive couldn’t really afford to make decisions that didn’t make sense, at this point in her life, in her career.

this would be her last routine visit home, and then upstate new york wouldn't be home anymore. los angeles would officially occupy that space in her life. the thought wasn’t as comforting as she hoped it would be.

olive pulled her blush-colored comforter up to her chin, thinking about what to respond, if she even should respond. the last time she’d seen russell, the last time they’d both been home, they’d done what they always did - fall back into each other so easily it felt like falling asleep. but that couldn’t happen this time, olive reminded herself. when she left granite falls this time, she was leaving for good. her exit would be smoother if she didn’t follow russell into any territory other than the friendly kind.

they had been friends at first, all that time ago, after all. how hard could it be to go back to that?

i'm home but we can't fuck because i think i’ll cry if we do! olive typed, then promptly deleted. she sighed, exhaled some of her anxiety, willed herself to just be normal. barely in the driveway, she sent instead, how did you already know?

got eyes and ears everywhere, russell sent back almost immediately, and she could practically see his smug smile. it lit up her dark room like a night light. told dyl at the library to watch for your car.

olive had no idea who dyl was, but figured she’d probably meet him. she softened to russell’s message, but it made her feel sort of guilty too, with the knowledge that she would be blindsiding him some time soon. yet he was, telling his friends to watch for her car, like her arrival was something special, something worth waiting for.

she didn’t know what to say then, so olive just set her phone on her bedside table and tried not to let visions of deep green eyes drown her while she slept.

fin. until next time.

#hockey #nhl #nhl fic #hockey fic #oc #tyson jost #writing #creative writing #rom com #buffalo sabres #colorado avalanche #carolina hurricanes

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steveslevis · 11 months ago

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delicate - chapter two

is it chill that you're in my head?

pairing: steve harrington x reader

chapter contents: not a lot happening in this one, just the two of them being awkward

wc: 3.6k

a/n: hope you guys enjoy!!! sorry it took so long, hopefully ch3 won't take me as long

Everything that comes after your so-called interview at Ralph’s happens in what seems like a matter of seconds. Before you know it, you’re standing on Fifth avenue with Eddie the next day, your two large suitcases, one duffle bag and backpack being the only things you needed to tow across the city.

Eddie had been the opposite of excited for you, in all honesty. He told you damn near a thousand times over a span of 24 hours that you should just move in with him and Alexander, and that you should try to negotiate with him about still working for him until you can save for your own place. Much to his dismay, you ignored your best friend’s concerns, shaking your head with confidence every time he tried to ask if you would stay. You had a good feeling about this, the voice in the back of your head telling you to go for it, that it would be a good growth opportunity, that you would never heal by spending your time rotting on Eddie’s couch.

So that’s how you ended up here, walking into one of the most expensive luxury housing buildings in the entire city with your weary best friend in tow. The two of you had made the mile and a half long trek across the city instead of using one of the Harrington family’s chauffeurs – you had insisted to Steve that it wasn’t necessary for the little amount of belongings that you had.

“Holy shit,” you hear Eddie mumble behind you while you push open the heavy glass door and walk into the lobby.

The lobby is grand, with white marble floors, sleek black walls, gold accents, and arguably the biggest crystal chandelier you’ve ever seen hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the room. There’s two gray leather couches sitting in front of a modern fireplace on one side, while a black granite front desk is on the other, with a young, blonde woman standing behind it.

“Hi there!” The woman calls to you from behind the desk, bearing the fakest smile you’ve ever seen as she eyes you and Eddie up and down, likely judging how out of place the two of you look in such a luxurious area, “can I help you two?”

“Yeah, we’re looking for the Harrington residence,” you say while approaching the desk with an equally fake smile plastered on your face, “are we in the right place?”

The woman, whose name is Carolyn according to her nametag, immediately turns off the fake niceties once you say who you’re looking for. The fake smile falters for a moment and you see her furrow her brow while looking you over once again. She looks down to the desk in front of her for a moment, reaching for an envelope that’s off to the side.

“You must be the new nanny,” she says, and you almost swear you hear a hint of jealousy in her voice as she speaks.

“Yes, that’s me.” you say with a small chuckle to yourself, raising your brow at her when she nearly frowns at your response.

Her lips fall into a thin line at that, her hand coming up from behind the counter to shove the envelope onto the granite in front of you.

“Here’s the access card and key to the apartment,” she says to you as you grab the envelope, inside is a glimmering golden card and a silver key that’s attached to a small tag with your name on it, “you have to scan the card in the elevator to get to the top floor, then use the key to open the door. Don’t lose them, or you’ll have to pay for them.”

She turns back to the computer in front of her without a word as you nod. You turn to Eddie once she does, exchanging a confused look before making your way towards the elevator on the other end of the lobby. You scan the key card and the elevator’s doors automatically close as the circular button with a large “P” at the top of the pad lighting up as it begins its ascent.

“Jesus, the fucking penthouse?” Eddie scoffs under his breath in disbelief, shifting your duffle bag on his shoulder.

It only takes a minute for the elevator to reach the top floor, the door of the elevator sliding open to reveal a short hallway with only one door at the end. The two of you step out and make your way over to the large front door, you look over to Eddie once you stand in front of it. The look on your face is filled with nervousness and excitement, but mainly nervousness.

“Should I knock?” you question, staring down at your key.

“You have a key for a reason, don’t you?” he quips, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shoot him a quick glare and sigh, flipping the key in your fingers a few times as you try to compose yourself. Eventually you reach for the door, sliding the key into the lock to open it. The door swings open and you’re met with arguably the nicest apartment – penthouse, rather – that you’ve stepped foot in while living in the city.

It’s much more cozy and less grandiose than you had expected, a stark contrast from the marble lined, golden and glittering lobby you had just entered from. You step into the living room when you first walk in, a large olive green couch and two matching chairs face a fireplace on the far wall, a comically large TV hanging above it. Everything is clean and definitely luxurious, but also feels lived-in, much more welcoming and warm than the rest of the complex.

The kitchen is to the left through a wide archway, but you don't have time to explore, as your thoughts are interrupted by Steve bounding into view from the kitchen. There’s a welcoming smile on his face as he steps into the living room, wiping his hands with a kitchen towel before tossing it over his shoulder to free his hands. He’s wearing a pair of slacks and a navy button down. His hair is a little more disheveled than it was last time the two of you met, but still looked perfectly put together somehow. You could tell that he had recently gotten done with work for the day, partially from the fact that he had two buttons undone on his shirt, and partially from the air of remnant stress that he was carrying.

“Welcome! Please, come on in.” Steve says with a smile as he watches Eddie close the door behind him. “Thank you for coming on such short notice, again. I really appreciate you starting so soon.”

“It’s no problem, I’m glad to help.” you say, shifting the backpack on your shoulders.

Steve extends a hand to Eddie to introduce himself, and Eddie gives him a reserved introduction in return, still hesitant about everything as he scans the penthouse.

Steve looks between you and Eddie once more, eyeing the four bags between the two of you before asking, “Is this everything you had to bring up, or is there still more downstairs?”

“Yeah, this is it, actually.” you laugh, knowing the amount of belongings you had was quite underwhelming, “that’s why I said we could just make the hike with the bags instead of taking one of your cars.”

“Oh, it would’ve been no problem either way.” he says while shaking his head, reaching for the suitcase that was by your side, “C’mon, I’ll show you to your room.”

Steve guides the two of you to a room off to the right on the first floor, explaining that the people who owned the penthouse before him had used it as a place for their in-laws to stay. He opened the door to the room, letting you and Eddie walk in before him. The bedroom was much nicer than you had expected in all honesty, with a queen-sized bed in the middle adorned in obviously expensive cream-colored linens, a sitting area equipped with a stocked bookshelf (perks of being employed by the CEO of a famous publishing company), and a desk for you to work on school during your time off. There was an en-suite bathroom as well, which looked larger than the entire living room of your previous shared apartment.

“Wow, this is–this is so amazing.” you gasp, looking over to Steve gratefully. “I wasn’t expecting anything this nice, to be honest.”

“Gotta make sure you’re comfortable so you stick around,” he says with a wink, which instantly sends your stomach into a fit of butterflies. “Go ahead and get settled in, I’m gonna go check on Amelia and the food.”

Before you could thank him, Steve was through the door and back in the nearby kitchen. You could tell why he needed your help, his mind worked at a thousand miles a minute, like he always had something that he needed to be doing.

“You still sure about all this?” Eddie implores, breaking you from your thoughts.

You look over to your best friend to see a face contorted with genuine concern and hesitancy, unsure of if he should leave you here alone or if he should tote you out over his shoulder regardless of your wishes.

“I am one hundred percent sure, Eds.” you assure him with a soft smile, pulling him into a hug.

Eddie wraps his arms around your shoulders with a sigh, finally giving up his fight on your decisions. He knew you were too stubborn to listen to him and deep down he could tell that Steve meant well, but he was just so unsure.

“I just want you to be safe.” he says finally, resting his chin atop your head.

“And I will be,” you state confidently, pulling back to look up at him. “This place might be, like, one of the safest places to live in the city. And besides, anywhere is safer than where I was.”

“You mean on my couch?” Eddie says, feigning an insulted look as he speaks. He knew you were talking about living with Luke, but he also knew you didn’t want to talk about him.

“I appreciate everything you do for me, Eds, but your couch is the second to last place I would like to sleep tonight.” you say with a teasing smile, watching as he rolls his eyes playfully.

“Alright, alright, but don’t come crying to me when sexy Mr. CEO Harrington turns out to be crazy like I said,” he replies, and you shoot him a glare. “What? There’s gotta be something wrong with him, he’s too hot and too perfect on paper to be normal.”

“I think you gotta stop obsessing over my ‘hot’ boss before you get me fired before my first day has even started,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder after using air quotes when saying hot – you didn’t think Steve was hot at all, right?

“Okay, fine I’ll stop tormenting you.” he chuckles, “as long as you promise not to fall in love with him or some shit like that.”

You immediately laugh out loud at the thought, shaking your head immediately. “That’s not gonna happen, Eds. He’s my employer and I’m only here to take care of his daughter. Besides, I’ll probably barely see him since he’ll be working all the time.”

Eddie gives you an incredulous look before pulling you in for another quick hug.

“Please, just call me if there’s anything you need and I can be here to get you, okay?” he says and you nod.

The two of you walk out of the bedroom shortly after, saying your goodbyes at the door with one last hug (that Eddie almost doesn’t let go in) before you make your way to the kitchen, where you know Steve is.

Unsurprisingly, the kitchen is just as nice as the rest of the penthouse that you’ve seen, but is currently in a bit of a state of disarray. Steve is standing next to the stove, and he’s serving what looks to be a pasta dish onto plates on the counter. Amelia is sitting at the long, dark dining table on the other side of the room. She’s zeroed in on two dolls in front of her, mumbling a conversation between the two of them to herself.

“Food’s done, sweetheart.” Steve called out to his daughter, grabbing a pink plate from the pile, presumably for her. “Why don’t you put your dolls up on the counter while we eat so they don’t get dirty, okay?”

The little girl nods, grabbing her things from the table to put them up, clearly excited for the dinner her dad had prepared, “want butter on my bread, please Daddy.” she requests, a smile on her face when she spots the pink plate atop the counter.

“I’ll get you some once I sit down, love.” he replies, smoothing down his daughter’s hair when she comes to stand next to him.

There was something so sweet and so domestic about the situation unfolding in front of you, a father and daughter busy in their own little worlds, but not too busy to share a kind interaction.

“Just in time, I was just gonna come see if you guys were hungry.” Steve says, peering over his shoulder to meet your eyes when you take another step into the room.

“Oh, sure!” you reply, “it’s just me though. I’m sorry to disappoint, but Eddie left just a second ago.”

Steve laughs in response, shaking his head at your words. He quickly serves up some penne alla vodka, extending the plate and some silverware to you once he does. You follow him to the table as he carries his and Amelia’s plates, setting one in front of his excited daughter, who almost immediately digs in.

“Well, I’m sad your boyfriend couldn’t stay for dinner, but it was very kind of him to help you move over on such short notice and be so understanding of the situation.” Steve says once you both settle at the table.

You had just taken your first bite of food when Steve started to speak, and the suggestion of Eddie being your boyfriend nearly makes you choke on the pasta. A small laugh escapes your lips as you play off your near-death experience with a cough, shaking your head at the thought.

“Are you alright?” Steve questions, setting his own fork down as he watches you carefully, making sure you’re not actually choking.

“Yes! S–sorry, I’m fine!” you stammer quickly, shaking your head, “I just–Sorry, I thought that was funny. Eddie isn’t my boyfriend.” you reply with a nervous smile.

“Oh?” Steve retorts, raising an eyebrow at you.

“He’s just my best friend, I–I was actually sleeping on him and his boyfriend’s couch for a few days so he just wanted to make sure where I was going to be living was safer than that.” you say, cheeks flushing red at the admission of couch surfing less than 24 hours prior to ending up in this penthouse, of all places.

“Sleeping on his couch?” he implores, “I thought you said you lived in a small studio in Yorkville?”

“I did, with my ex. That is where I was but we–well, we had a nasty breakup a few weeks back so that’s how I ended up on Eddie’s couch. It all happened so fast that I keep forgetting I don’t live there anymore –” you blurt out, stopping yourself when you realize how much you’re sharing with this man you barely know. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you all this, you’re my boss for God’s sake, I am so sorry, Steve.”

“Hey, no, no, you’re fine!” he replies quickly, shooting you a reassuring smile. “I’m, uh, I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”

You give him a small, sad smile in return, choosing to focus your gaze on the food in front of you so you don’t embarrass yourself any more than you already have.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean a lot coming from me since I don’t know what happened, but I’m sure that you didn’t deserve to be the one left on your best friend’s couch without a place to live.” Steve was rambling now, “and I’m sorry for assuming that Eddie was your boyfriend, I just didn’t think it was possible for someone like you to be single.”

There was an awkward beat of silence after Steve finished his nervous ramble, leaving you with a million thoughts that you couldn’t process in the moment, all being ones that made your stomach flutter. You didn’t really have time to process any of it though, as your thoughts were interrupted by Amelia tugging on her dad’s sleeve.

“Where my butter bread?” she questions, giving her dad a very stern look, clearly impatient from not getting her bread with the meal.

Steve opens his mouth to retort, but you’re up from the table and grabbing the plate with baguette slices and a pad of butter Steve had forgotten on the counter next to the pot of pasta. You give the little girl a smile, swiping some butter on one of the slices before reaching across the table to hand it to her. She grabs the bread and hastily takes a large bite, giggling to herself in satisfaction.

“What do you say?” Steve says to her, giving her a knowing look.

“Tank you,” she says to you, mouth full of bread as she grins over at you.

The once awkward moment quickly resolved after Amelia’s interruption, and dinner went by smoothly after that. You discussed what you would need to do to help Amelia throughout the day and night, and what days Steve would be around to help out. He let you know that you wouldn’t have to cook dinner, as he insisted on sitting down with her almost every evening for the meal and making it on his own. After dinner, you insisted on helping Steve clean up, but he insisted against it, that he would finish up. Instead, you opted to get Amelia ready for bed, getting her showered and cleaned up before reading her one of the dozens of children’s books that she had littered around her bedroom.

It was around 9 by the time you finished getting her to bed, leaving her room with the bedroom door cracked slightly. Both her and Steve’s bedrooms were upstairs, along with Steve’s office that he used to work from home on occasion. You passed the office, noticing a small light flooding from the doorway as you did. Before you could walk down the stairs, you heard a voice from inside the office call for you.

Steve was sitting in the dimly lit room, at the large oak desk that sat in the middle of the room. He looked up from his computer when you came in, there was a tired look on his face that changed when he locked eyes with you. Thin rimmed glasses sat on his face that you hadn’t seen before, and he was freshly showered, his hair still drying and the collar of his gray t-shirt was slightly damp. He looked exhausted, but still managed to look extremely attractive and that made you want to crawl into his lap and – no, stop it. Your mind was wandering, it had been too long of a day already.

“She went down okay?” he questioned, breaking you from your trance.

“Yeah, she was fine. She made me read Goodnight Moon twice before she fell asleep, she said I read it wrong the first time around.” you say with a laugh.

“That sounds about right,” he chuckles in reply, shaking his head. There’s a beat of contemplative silence, then Steve looks back up at you, “also, before you head to bed. I just wanted to apologize for earlier, I–I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking too many questions or anything, I’m sorry if I did.”

“Don’t apologize, you’re fine. I’ve been asked worse things, don’t worry about it.” you say with an assuring smile, earning one back from him in return that makes your heart skip a beat. “Goodnight, Steve.”

Steve says goodnight in reply and you turn on your heels to walk back downstairs. Exhaustion hits you all at once when you make it to the bedroom that you now call your own, throwing yourself onto the bed with a sigh.

It’s in that moment that you’re thankful for changing and getting ready for the night before you made your way up to put Amelia to bed, because now you can just cuddle into your new bed with no worries. Well, that is until your mind starts to wander.

All day you had brushed off the thoughts you’d had about Steve, the remarks Eddie had made about Steve, and the remarks Steve had made to you at dinner about being surprised that you were single. There was no reason for you to be overthinking it all, you told yourself. There was no reason for your stomach to flutter at the thought of Steve, your new employer, winking at you jokingly. There was no reason for your mind to wander when you saw him with wet hair and glasses, but you couldn’t help yourself.

What did it all mean? You shouldn’t even be thinking about anyone right now, you just went through a disgusting breakup with an even more disgusting man, you should be thinking about nobody but yourself.

You weren’t sure what any of it meant, and were truthfully terrified to find the real answer.

But that was for another time, as sleep overtook you not long after you set an alarm, mind still running as you drifted into slumber.

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#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stevis writes

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mint-yooxgi · 28 days ago

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Kinktober Day 17 - Yandere!Bodyguard!Choi Minho + Biting & Oral Fixation

Anonymous Said: Maybe could you, please do a Yandere Bodyguard for Shinee Minho + Biting and Oral Fixation. A/n: This honestly just fits him so well... Minho as a Yandere!Bodyguard? I think YES Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Yandere, Possession Word Count: 834 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

Sunlight filters through the large floor to ceiling windows, reflecting off of the smooth granite of the kitchen counter. The stone is cool against your skin, back arching as fingers dig into your thighs.

He pulls you closer.

“Look at you,” Minho hums, turning to nose along the skin of your inner thigh. “What would people say if they could see you now? The headstrong daughter of the great and powerful Atlantis gang really is all bark and no bite.”

Your breath hitches slightly, frowning down in annoyance at the man between your legs.

“I still control your contract.” You state, rather firmly as you nudge his head with your thigh. “Watch your mouth.”

“But Sweetheart,” A devilish grin stretches across his features, “Where would you be if it weren’t for me?”

Turning his head, Minho sinks his teeth into your flesh. Not enough to break your skin, no, but enough to leave a clear indentation of a bite mark.

Your back arches off of the counter, keening as your eyes squeeze shut. Your whole body twitches, chest heaving as you feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Never forget,” his lips soothe over the bite he’s just given you, eyes flashing as he meets your gaze. “You’re my charge.”

Bringing his one hand up, Minho slips his thumb through your folds. A pleased hum escapes him as he feels how wet you are, licking his lips to get yet another taste of you on his tongue.

“Don’t forget who’s working for who.” You pant out, gaze sharp as you tilt your head to watch his every move.

His thumb finds your clit again, and you gasp.

“I think you mean who’s working who right now.” He chuckles, adding more pressure over your clit. “Don’t forget who just had you moaning his name, Darlin’.”

Your lips purse as your thighs twitch around his head, reminded of how his mouth feels on you yet again. A shiver caresses your spine, and you hate how involuntary that reaction is.

“Hurry up and get back to it, then.” You commend, tangling your fingers in his locks and guiding him closer into your dripping core.

“Is that an order?”

The playful way his brow quirks irritates you to no end.

“Minho.” His name is but a warning on your lips.

“As you wish, Sweetheart.” His voice rumbles out, turning to nip lightly at your inner thigh. “I live to serve you.”

Without wasting another moment, his mouth is back on you. His tongue dips through your folds, licking a broad strip up to your clit. He hums happily as he sucks that little bundle of nerves between his lips, shaking his head lightly back and forth as his eyes never leave your own.

Minho takes his time to trace his tongue over your cunt, exploring every inch just as he’s already done before today. Pleased moans echo against your core as he teases your clit with gentle flicks before placing languid kisses atop that swollen little bud.

His hands tighten on your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you in even closer to him.

Soft moans escape your parted lips as you feel him burying himself in your pussy yet again. His skilled tongue draws blissful sighs of his name from your lips, noticing how his hold over you tightens with each whimper and whine that falls from you. Every now and then, a particular flick of his tongue over your clit causes your thighs to twitch, and he focusses his attention on repeating those same actions just to watch your body shake.

Already, you’ve become so sensitive to his touch. All day he’s been working you up, letting you teeter on the edge of release only to pull you right back to the start. It’s like a game to him, and when he finally lets you tip over the edge, that’s when you scream his name.

The smug smirk he wears can be felt against your core as your back arches from the counter top. Your thighs squeeze around his head as he continues to suckle your clit between his lips through your orgasm, hands pinning you down as your hips attempt to buck against his mouth.

Your eyes flutter shut, whole body feeling as if you’re floating in bliss as you moan his name. The languid way he continues to flick his tongue over your clit as you come down from your high makes your whole body twitch, chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath.

Gently, your fingers brush his hair out of his face. The pure and utter devotion you can see shining in his gaze as he looks up at you makes your breath hitch.

He pulls away briefly, nipping once more at the skin of your inner thighs.

Again, you sigh his name, and he pulls you in closer. You watch his eyes flash with something dark. A look that captivates you, and has you drowning in everything him.

“Another.”

#yandere minho #yandere shinee #minho smut #minho scenarios #minho x reader #yandere kpop #kpop smut #kpop scenarios #kpop x reader #kpop au #bodyguard au #yandere au #shinee smut #shinee scenarios #shinee x reader

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iwaasfairy · 2 years ago

Text

┌─ “ ! „ TWO OF CUPS .03.

tw. incest, dubcon, peeping, creampie, coercion/emotional manipulation, unintentional voyeurism, jealousy, angst, love triangle wordcount. 5k

part 01 part 02 part 03 part 04

a/n. she's hEREEE she's here the emotional baggage fuckery is back finally!!!! aaaaahhhh yes i finally got off my ass and rewrote and finished part three thanks you so much to @seijorhi and @darlingsanzu for betaing and sitting through my insufferableness about the itoshi sibs i juST ughhhhh!! i hope you like it and yes there will be a part four which should be the final part and yes i will try tofinish it soon-ish <333

itoshi rin x fem!reader x itoshi sae

The picture is a little creased, faded with time, but it’s still visible enough to keep. It’s more valuable than a digital copy, in this case. Because there’s an obvious scratch right over Sae’s perfect smile that gives Rin every reason to want to grin back. At least the wear and tear of the universe is on his side this once. You’re adorable in your matching jersey, little toddler hands sticking out of the arm holes as you’ve wrapped yourself around an equally small him.

Nostalgia isn’t a feeling he wants to linger in much though, because even on an innocent reflection of the past like this one - where Sae is throwing up peace signs and dribbling a ball as the two of you watch enchanted - there’s a treacherous truth displayed.

As he’s holding you, his only baby sister, in his arms, he stares at the ball; the talent, the glory, the unequivocal challenge, and you; you’re watching Sae.

It’s how it's always been, and with a bitter swallow, Rin has to wonder if the way he always trailed two steps behind will be how it ends. If he can’t keep you, if Sae really does take him up on the threat to steal you away from under his nose, would you struggle? Would you even understand if he explained it? Somehow, he doubts it. Somehow, he thinks that you don’t see anything wrong with the fact that you whisper Sae’s name in your sleep.

No simple scratch over Sae’s smile on a childhood picture is going to stop you from loving the guy. And worse still, it isn’t even his picture. It only reappeared in the house when Sae came home to stay with you, creased, cherished, and though Rin isn’t sure if Sae is even capable of true feeling for anything that isn’t himself… it looks loved.

A better man would take that as a sign to back off, maybe. A better man wouldn’t drag his little sister out of a shared bed and strip you down to nothing, pretending to be a helping hand. Kiss your lips, play with your fingers until you give him the first real smile of the day. Hopeful, and deeply, truly forgiving of his every flaw. It’s everything he isn’t. Instead he is towered over you with one hand on the granite tiles with his body just a few breaths from yours as you hum a little song. The showerhead is big enough to have you drenched, and him close enough to have the steam and heat of the water drawing random swirls along his vision, breathing in, breathing out. The heat of the air clears his lungs, but nothing takes the sticky, pressing feeling on his chest away when you’re this close. Breathe in, halfway out as you clear your voice.

“Do you think Sae will be allowed to stay a little longer, nii nii? I know he’s gotta practice, but—” The sound of the shower drums away the rest of your question. Water runs from your neck, along shoulder blades down the line of your back, and he wants to groan and grunt at the way your butt almost brushes his fucking cock. It’s ungodly. It’s vile, and maybe if you were any less trusting, you could feel the way his eyes roam when you tell yourself ‘no looking’, or how his waist ‘accidentally’ brushes up against you almost every time. You’re none the wiser, though, that’s the problem. “Rin nii?” He looks up from your steamy, perfect fucking body that’s chubbing up his cock to lean his chest against your shoulder as he grabs the shampoo bottle, and gives a faint hum to signal hearing you.

“It’s just been so long since we were all together again,” you breathe then, and hum so softly, encouragingly, as his long fingers find your head to slosh the artificial fruit scent around your scalp. Another little noise has his lashes fluttering, sliding his other hand down your neck to take a solid hold of your shoulder. And then a puffed breath, as you turn halfway towards him and make him catch a flash of your perfect fucking tits, to make matters even worse. Truly, you must believe him to be a saint, he thinks as all his muscles flex and unflex. He’s so wound up with Sae being around to ruin it that he can barely stand looking at you without wanting to grab his cock and pull until he sprays cum all over the swell of your ass. “Ahh, that feels- ah- really good.” He can’t help it. Nothing makes the longing go away.

“Thank you for taking care of me, niichan… I- I don’t like being alone.”

Dead silence. He needs dead silence to get over your unapologetic admiration. To be locked up in solitary confinement and have a metal rod jammed through both ears, probably. Rin swallows the thick feeling on his tongue to the best of his ability, watching the soap run down your hair, before ever so gently leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. And one to your jaw, and neck, and then the crook of your shoulder. Forget about anything else, his brain blares, forget about — his voice cracks when he calls your name and wraps a lone arm around your stomach to stop you from moving. “You know I love you, right?”

You seem similarly frozen in time for a few tense heartbeats, water rushing along your face and making every inch of you glitter under the lights. Before you wipe your eyes and nose, and nod. “I know. I love you too, nii nii.”

Your lashes are dark, long, and too wet. And your lip bobs up and down a few times as you go to smooth your hands down his chest, and Rin can’t fucking help it— think that you’re looking through him. There’s a commotion outside the hall before the way you look at him can be addressed. The door creaks as it opens, before footsteps make their way to the bathroom and there’s a little knock. Sae’s voice is low and sleep filled as he calls out your name, and you pull your hands away from Rin. Leaving your touch to burn long after it’s gone.

“Are you in the shower?”

“Mhm, I’m almost done.” He doesn’t want to look at the way you fidget, and draws his hand back from it’s steady position on your hip to grab some soap.

Sae’s irritating mockery of a voice is strangely gentle when speaking to you, and he imagines his brother leaning against the door as he talks. “That’s okay. Want me to join you?” Rin almost chokes on it. You don’t hesitate to hum, and play your fingers along your hand palm.

“If you want to. Rin’s in here too, so there’s not that much room, but-” The sharp snort from beyond the door cuts you off, but Rin would overlook that any day if Sae would just keep his damn mouth shut. As if he’d ever be that lucky.

“Ah, I was wondering where you went. You’re showering with our little sister? Fucking pervert.” The cold laugh only makes his eyebrows lace together harder, as his jaw clenches hard. The irony is lost on you, of course, because you look at Rin with a little head tilt. And try to shy away from him when he grabs your hand to lace it together. “Well, let me know when you’re done. I need to head to the store later and I wanna shower first. Hurry it up.”

Adrenaline pumps through his blood as he wipes some of the sweat of his brow. The short blades of grass crunch under his feet, and the ball flies - as usual - in a perfect arch towards the one corner of the goalpost, heading home. The field’s otherwise abandoned, and the cold sky makes his puffs of hot breathing into little clouds that linger before fizzling into nothing.

Only the bright white of large led lights, and to the side, you. You’re buried in his jacket, hands deeply hidden into the oversized pockets as you walk from the boundary lines towards him. “Nii nii!” Your voice bounces around the space overzealous, and it warms his face instinctively. It’s entirely too domestic. As he leaves the spare balls to jog up to you, his stomach flips. It’s down season, so really, this should be his rest time. But he’s been… unusually agitated, for lack of any better way to describe it. Days seem longer when he can’t even get close to you without receiving a sneer or a disbelieving chuckle from some corner of the house.

Your shared house, of just you and him. Sae doesn’t care nearly enough about what should be the consequences if it were anyone else. He could just kick him out, if it were different. But sadly, you’re not anyone else, and you’d sooner bend yourself into impossible shapes than willfully ask your other brother away. It’s not like he’s being more distant for the redhead’s sake. No, he wants to let out a dry chuckle at the idea, anything but. If it was up to just him, he’d let Sae rot in his sourness and implications. It’s only out of necessity, because you care about what Sae thinks of you. And the guy fucking knows it.

Rin instead takes in with a tiny smile how you’re dressed entirely in his clothing, like you’re some cheesy couple, unwilling to be separate people from one another for even a second. It calms the possessiveness enough to pull you into him when you reach him, two hands full of ass as he makes you wrap your arms around his neck and picks you up against his sweaty body. “Mhm, you look cozy.”

Your mouth quirks up before you giggle, and let him bury his face into the side of yours.

He kisses you, leaning down into it before you can say another word, and you giggle an embarrassed little ‘Rin’ into his lips before pulling away. But his large hands are still holding you off of the floor and forcing you into another hug, and you don’t struggle much against it anyway. He should really be more embarrassed. About the way his lips long to slot over your pulse point and bathe you in possessive kisses that leave the deepest marks. After just a few kisses along your neck you pull back and mumble something about the tickling, and then land back onto the ground when he puts you down.

It’s second nature for you to attach yourself to Rin’s body when looking up at him and to wrap your arms around his waist, and in turn, he does his best to keep his eyes from wandering too much. “It’s cold, why’re you out here? Watch niisan play?” Your fingers squeeze before you breathe, and your smile slips just a little. Obvious.

And whatever sort of look must come over his face has you grabbing him a little tighter, keeping the hug going. He doesn’t want to think about the millions of times he’s demanded it with so much unveiled disdain that you’re always trying to soothe him. He doesn’t want to think it, but for some reason- it still pops up into the back of his head. You nuzzle into his chest, hope the warmth in your eyes sinks down into his bones. But the moment can’t last, and you eventually open your mouth to let out a slow mumble. “Sae nii wants to take me to some new bar in Kabukicho. I’ll be back soon though.”

Though his mouth tugs down, he lets out a hum, and a dry, non-amused chuckle follows. “Yeah. Do whatever. Sae’s only here every so often, right?” He turns to get away from the way your face falls, unable to help it. Rin rolls his tongue around against the roof of his mouth. Like taffy, the jealousy sits in his mouth and sours a little further each time he swallows. It’s a special kind of torture.

You try to help it, as always, sewing the tearing edges together as best you can. But it’s no use. As long as Sae keeps winning, Rin will keep fighting back. That’s just the way of things in the Itoshi household. “You can come with us, nii nii,” you pout into the dusty clouds of breath that covers your face in fog. But the noiret stands fast. Pride is an ugly thing when it gets broken. It now winks at him each time he walks around in his own house. Try as he might, he can’t escape you. And though your eyes might flick towards the eldest for guidance, he knows it’s only a matter of time before Sae runs ahead again and leaves you stranded in his wake.

From somewhere on the parking lot, an expensive car roars and flashes it’s lights to call for attention. Your shoulders square as you hide yourself further into his puffer jacket, and your long lashes seem to plead with him. “Rin nii?”

“I have to practice,” he mumbles back, and drops the ball onto the curve of his foot to set it into another long arch across the field— anything to keep himself from having to look at your face as it falls. “Get home safe.” You take a shuddered, little breath, before your shoulders fall and you turn to make your way back to the sideline and past it. He feels bad, sort of, but tonight is a little rough.

He wants to just play out here until his toes and fingers go numb. He doesn’t want to see how your eyes shine when Sae gives you a sliver of attention, when his own betray him as a man who spent most of his life loving you. Surely he has more self respect than that.

There was always something selfish about it. About the way he would run ahead, hogged toys and attention, and cherished himself. A greedy, unrelenting draw towards success, whatever that even meant when he was 6 and beating everyone around him in athletics and running them off his tail faster than people could wish to admit. A monster of ‘natural talent’ that called his name from the quiet confines of the spotlight, and for good reason, he was more than glad to shake hands and let it run wild upon his life. That selfishness wouldn’t be pushed aside for anything. Or anyone.

It was only an unfortunate consequence that you and Rin had to come after. Sae didn’t start out trying to antagonize anyone. Despite that — time changes things. Fractures once familiar memories. Unties knots. He might have started out not trying to antagonize Rin, but he isn’t stupid. Sometimes it feels like that’s all they’re good for now. If not for you. Their smallest, trying to glue the shards back together again and again and over again.

It was always that way. Their little fixer, their little cheerleader. The favorite bench warmer, or something like that. Rin sets alight at the core when he looks at you, and he’s not exactly good at hiding it. The only reason your parents didn’t see it was a plea of sanity, and a little bit of delusion. How do you make peace with the fact that not one, but all of your children have crossed opposing wires in their brain? That your pedestal-raised, untamed prizes of offspring have taken to tying the last remaining semblance of normalcy to their own side with diamond chains. It’s only a matter of time before one of the chains gives out, and the perfect, little family shatters.

The fan buzzes with a soft hum that has him glancing over his shoulder at the side of your face, cheeks soft and long lashes hiding admiring, unrelenting hope in your eyes each time they find him. No, Sae isn’t stupid. He knows that you call him much more often than you’re willing to tell Rin about, and that you like it a little too much when his hand slides down your spine to pull you into him. He knows that you don’t just look at him with a platonic appreciation. And that it’s as much his fault for letting it get this far as it is yours for pining for something that wasn’t meant to be yours. But that’s what happens when big brother becomes an unattainable standard that parents set, isn’t it? You find ways to close the gap.

Your unconscious way of closing the gap is to place yourself on the edge of his bed and talk, talk until you can’t talk a second longer. Usually until he shuts you up by wrapping his arms around you and kissing you until you run out of air in your lungs to make it a second longer. That’s how it started, all those years ago. A sleepless night of sudden, self-shattering doubt, where he’d snuck across the hall in the comfort of twilight. And settled for a soft, misguided kiss; just to prove he could.

And you being you, had looked at him with those big, clueless doe eyes and hadn’t peeped a word about it— because who are you if not undyingly loyal to the worst of the worst. Sae doesn’t get it. But it seems he is, at heart, exploitative by nature, right? Why else would one kiss have turned into two, and then many, stuffing his insecurities deep within his little sister until she breaks first.

Your cheek is rolled against the couch now, and your legs tucked close against him as he watches a rerun of another old match, but it seems that tonight, something’s different. Ever since he stole you away from Rin yesterday, the guy’s been unapologetically standoffish. And now you’re unusually quiet. Or, not so much unusual as uncomfortable, and making it unable to ignore it. Sulking and sniffling in the crook of your elbow with all the poise of a third grader.

His face turns to regard you, and he clicks his tongue. “What’s the problem?”

You don’t speak for a moment, but eventually have to give in to the unfailing stare burning a hole between your brows. Voice soft as it lays open the groundwork, and suddenly Sae’s throat closes up. “I miss Rin nii.”

The house is too quiet.

The thumping of the headboard is sort of unbearable. Cold and cruel and too noisy even for him, but it’s nothing compared to the thrill he feels singing into his blood as your eyes are closed tight, cheeks and ears burning with heat, and tears suffocating most of your cries for the low, clueless way you mumble his name. In some ways, he had wanted to do things differently. If it had been possible to contain his temper for once in his life, maybe he would have liked to try to make you happy with a gentle kiss and an even softer admission of guilt.

Apologized for fucking you up the way he did. Take responsibility.

The way he’s got both your wrists in one hand and his other on your throat isn’t gentle or soft. But Sae isn’t exactly one to look a gift horse in the mouth either. Your thick pearls of tears down your temples are enough to have him gritting his teeth and letting his hips connect yet again with the skin of your ass as he slots himself right between your legs. “Niichan, Sae niichan~” you whine out so pitifully below him, gasping and squirming and grabbing at his shoulders.

He grunts. “I don’t want to hear it.” You look like you’re not sure whether to beg him to get closer, deeper- or to drag your nails down his face- and the look has him biting his bottom lip so hard it soon tastes only of copper. Eventually though, a thought makes it through the squeezed opening of his throat, and he grabs your face to aim it at him. “You got some fucking nerve. It— Rin didn’t care about you until he realized that I wanted you. I was the one who cared first. Me.” He doesn’t recognize his own voice as it comes out raspy and only interrupted by his own hysterical heartbeat, and he stares deep into your matching irises again. “Me. Say it.”

Your mouth twists into a thin line, wobbly as his cock slides between soft lips and makes the wetness squelch between your bodies. His sweat beads at his hairline, and your nails dig deeper into his shoulder. He ruts himself deep, with a steady rhythm that rings through the house and makes your legs shake. Eventually you crack a little when he pries your chin from the way you hide it into your shoulder, and kisses you hard. He means it though, through teeth and spit all the same. “Sae nii- iichan,” your voice breaks when you mumble it, and a trail of silver runs along your temple. You still try to pull out of his white knuckled grip, pouting. “I don- I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I just meant that- I- didn’t want to m-make -hick- Rin nii upset. Let go of me.”

“Why should I?”

He holds his steady thrusting for just a moment to regard you seriously, and watch the way the heat in your face swirls all around. Lips plump and parted, sweetened by his mouth. Skin sticky, your pussy leaving glimmering slick all over his thumping cock. You don’t say anything, and he moves instead to rub your puffy clit under his thumb with too much precision. It makes you squirm, and makes you pant and whimper. You don’t like to face the facts, don't like it when he calls you out for it. But as much as you can’t tell him no with his hands on your body and your tits in his mouth, he wants to hear you say he’s the favorite sibling.

His voice is a little gravelly still when you whine his name and he shuts you up by burying his cock to the hilt into the hot clutch of your tight cunt, and licking along your tongue. “You love me. I know you do.” It’s about the one thing he knows for sure about you. His neck burns when your hand slides along it to tug through the shorter hair, and whine against his mouth and nod.

“I love you, Sae niichan. L-love -y-you.”

With a short chuckle he pulls back, eyes wide and feeling a little too hysterical, just as fired up as he is on the field. Maybe even more. You’d deserve that much. His throat is dry as he slides the head of his cock against that spongy part of your walls and when your eyes flutter hard, grabs your tits too. Your knees land by your shoulders as his balls clap against your ass and you look so pathetically at his mercy, a little sister cunt just for him. Your crystal tears roll over in bunches, as he jackhammers his fat, hot cock into you. Until your eyes roll and your toes start curling into the blankets. Only then does he allow for the way you clamp at him to get pulled a little tighter, a little softer.

“Cumming? You’re big brother’s favorite girl, mhm-” he grunts, red hair sticking to his forehead, as he leans into the embrace just enough to fuck with heavy thrusts into the tightness of your hot pussy until it starts spasming around you. “Best -f-fucking pussy around. No one does it like you, ‘mouto.” He only notices there’s a tear when it tickles his collarbone on the way down, and no, no— he’s not crying over this. Not as you stare up at him through almost closed eyes with a hung universe in your eyes. Fuck. He hides his face into yours by crashing his lips to yours and letting his tongue swallow all of your moans and noises until you start really shaking, and clamping your legs around his body.

You cum with Sae’s tongue down your throat, and his arms burn as he lifts himself up from your body to fuck though the incredible feeling of you clenching down on him hard enough to black him out. It hurts how good you feel, before his hips automatically speed up with each noisy ‘pap’ to chase his own orgasm. “Niichan, niichan, y-you c-,” you break yourself off with a high pitched aftershock, and tug at the hair still locked between your fingers, “feels- so- g-gud- niichan!

“F-fuck, I-ugh.” His cock is so hot as he spills white ropes of cum into your dripping pussy before he even has a chance to think about it, pulling out halfway to spurt the rest of it between your legs with a rasped swear, before collapsing to your side and beaming in the sticky heat of the room. “Holy fuck.” Your arms wrap around his stomach and you bury your face into his side, and for a moment, he even allows his arm to wrap back around your shoulders. Because you’re good. You’re so good to him.

He doesn’t know how long you lay with him, but eventually the shallow breathing and soft touches cool, and when they do— he feels numb. The hot-headedness is gone. And with it comes the ice-cold realization that he’s gone and done it now. Your cheeks are still warm against his chest, and you shiver a little when he sits up. He hums. “Y'kno, this is a pretty nice guest room, but I’m kinda missing my own bed.”

A small frown digs itself between your brows on your pretty face. Your hands go for the blankets first, cover yourself up a little, and then you follow the way he sits up to shake off some of the daze. And his heart beats hard, too hard, when he slides off the side and your unsure look turns into a pout. “Sae nii. I-”

“Help me find my boxers.” The clamminess of the room is too fucking much, you have to understand that. The soft shuffle isn’t enough to ignore the way you’re burning holes into his skin. So he shrugs it off and picks a new pair out of the dresser instead, putting it on. And for a moment it works. Pulling on a shirt, sweater and some sweatpants is enough to clear his head just enough to toss you a bottle of water. You don’t catch it, and it lands with a sad poof on the soft covers.

But it’s nothing compared to the way you ruffle the softness even closer to your body, and your voice is barely a breath as you bite your tongue. “Sae nii?”

A dark room has never felt so revealing. He adjusts the sleeves of his sweater, giving a sideways glance to the crown of your head. Any lower he can’t stomach. “I’m heading home,” his voice comes out dry, as he opens the door to the hall, and heads straight for the car keys.

Rin doesn’t say anything when the door of your room opens, but he’s awake. 03:25— the blue light informs, and he slowly manages to pull one of the headphones out by its cord. Your small shape curls into bed like a fawn, slow and unsteady, and you breathe his name. But it isn’t the same, and it only takes a few seconds for him to feel, as well as see, how you nuzzle up half onto him. You’re cold, and your hands shake a little when you look into his eyes and go to melt your foreheads together.

In any other situation, he would think he was dreaming. Cross my heart and hope to not to wake, lucid in love. In any other situation, you wouldn’t be up halfway through twilight as you go in mouth first to his own and kiss him hard and deep enough for him to feel your heartbeat. Your lips are sweet though, and your one hand wraps thumb and fingers all along his shoulder, and squeezes until you shake. You push your tongue into his mouth as Rin’s eyes blink away the darkness, and his tongue brushes yours. It’s wet and hot and too real, your free hand going to find his where it rests on his chest, and you drape your leg over the rest of his body.

And he floats. Shakes, with tongue against tongue and your mouth slotted against his when you moan into it. This isn’t how you kiss him. This surges through his blood like poison, and has him humming back and pulling you further on top of him until you stop shaking so hard.

Your nose and lashes are wet, but you kiss him full of sugar and leave every inch of him in ambers. Rin allows you to curl up on his chest like you need, and links fingers with you, as he kisses down your mouth and neck as you gasp and pant and shiver like a bunny. Shoves his hands under Sae’s spare shirt to drag his long fingers along your spine, and you cry, and you cry, and you cry.

#blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock rin #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock sae #itoshi sae x reader #bllk smut #tw.incest #tw.jealousy #🥧rin.chan #💫ch.rin #🥧sae.chan #💫ch.sae #🍯honey.pot

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