#it’s the only one I (attempted) to read twice because I thought i was too young to get it the first time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

keravnous · 1 month

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diet mountain dew; john wick/fem!reader (smut, 18+)

dating john wick - the playlist

The Boogeyman is out to get you. Little does he know, that you too are willing to do quite a bunch of things just to stay alive.

warnings: blood, guns, knives, injuries, physical violence/fighting, assassination attempt; dub-con, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), choking, dirty talk, spanking, a lot of manhandling bc for the love of god he doesn't know how to be soft anymore, gun kink, knife kink, size kink, strength kink, squirting, body worship if you blink, is this hate-fucking? idk; john has a horse cock change my mind; john is in his 50s, the reader is in her 20s; set somewhere after the series i guess? (I refuse to accept he's dead); problematic family relationship as a plot device; let's all collectively ignore the fact that he would actually never touch another woman or even dare to catch the smallest of feelings again; john gets off on the violence

word count: 10,6 k

thank you mel for a) listening to my ramblings and b) reading a good chunk of the first third of this dumpster fire and still going nuts about it, kissies and thank you v for listening to my keanu ramblings without losing faith in me

You wonder, if praying will help you. Probably not.

The sound of carnage, screams and gunshots in the hallway abruptly stops. You hear the assailant's heavy footsteps echoing off the floorboards outside of your hotel room mere seconds before the door bursts open, flies out of its hinges and rattles to the ground, wood creaking and breaking, splinters flying everywhere.

There had been a hit out on you for two days and every single soldier in your father's militia was ready to defend your life with their own.

Literally. You can tell by the man entering your suite.

You can tell by just how much he is covered in blood. You can tell by the way it drips down his forehead and how it soaks his white shirt - even the soles of his shoes creak with it. You can tell by the way he is totally and utterly drenched in red red red, and because you are certain it is not his.

They literally gave their life for you. The thought hits you like a blow to the head. People have died because of you. Fathers, brothers, sons. You recall your last conversation with your own father. They want us dead, they put out a contract on us - you had never seen him so nervous, so disheveled. What does that mean - his anxiety had been washing over you in seeping hot waves, sending cold shivers down your spine. It means, I need you out of the house - now.

Nausea bubbles in your stomach as the man now approaches you, casually strolls into the suite with his finger on the trigger of the gun dangling from his hand and you stare back at him - a deer in the headlights, frozen by fear in the eyes of its deadly predator. One of your father's men jumps from his cover, fires a shot and gets hit back with one straight between his eyes. It happens so quickly, that you can't turn your head away. You see the bullet piercing his forehead, blood splattering as soon as it exits the skull on the other side. His head flies back a little, and then his body goes limp, slack, as he falls to the ground with a heavy thud.

You want to scream. You want to vomit. You want to run. But there is nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide from him.

There's only one soldier left with you in the suite now and he is hiding around the corner, near the bathroom. The stranger - the assassin, the killer - does not lower the gun again, and does not let his eyes stray from you as he carefully enters the room. You feel terribly exposed, dressed only in your negligée, not daring to move.

Now, that the dim light of the suite's living room strikes his face, you can finally see him, see the man who has come to end you. He is older than you, maybe nearly twice your age, with dark hair and even darker eyes, matching his black suit. Lean and athletic, chest heaving slightly with physical exhaustion. The Boogeyman.

You do not know who or what you had expected, what cruel and dreadful images your brain had conjured up in the past 48 hours - 48 frightful hours of being moved around from hideout to hideout by your father's men, not staying in one place longer than necessary - but it certainly was not that. Not him. He is a lot more handsome than his reputation has led on. Seeing him on the subway around rush hour you would have never suspected him to be in this business. He looks nice. And that is exactly what makes him dangerous.

You have heard his name before. Echoing from the walls. Baba Yaga. Whispered with both: fear and respect. The Boogeyman. Blurted out: like a curse or like a blessing. Mister Wick: like redemption, like damnation. Jonathan, the king's son walking the earth as the devil.

John. The sound of his name is oddly human - disturbingly human - for someone looking as calm and collected, focused and concentrated as he does right now, while being drenched in blood and pointing a gun at you.

You must have said his name out loud, because his eyebrows twitch irritatedly, a movement so quick you barely missed it - must've sound desperate too, then.

Vision zeroing in on the barrel of his gun, your hands clutch the sofa's edge. There is so much adrenaline pumping through your veins right now that it freezes your limbs, has your ears ringing. The only thing responding to your brain fully are your eyes, and they snap away from the gun and over to the remaining soldier. It's a quick look, not even a second, but the hitman seems to recognize it and - with near inhumane speed - flicks his gun, and fires two shots. Blood splatters against the white door as the shots pin the soldier's body against it, and is it finally drops to the ground heavily it leaves a nasty trail, all wet and sticky and red.

Could be you.

You want to scream, but your body does not belong to you anymore, does not respond to your commands. It is a desperate, cruel sound that leaves your throat instead as you flinch with the sound of the gun being fired.

"Let's make this quick" his voice is gravelly and rough, like he has seen a thousand grim things and the pain of it has etched its way into his throat, left a nasty mark on every tone that ever dared to cross after.

That is when your fight or flight suddenly kicks in. Well, more specifically, it kicks in while he is speaking, as he starts to swap the empty clip of his gun.

He underestimates you. Everyone does. Your father, your brother. The countless men lying dead littered across the hotel's 25th floor. It will be his mistake.

You latch forward, grabbing the vase from the coffee table in front of you. The weight of it in your hand drags you down.

With all the strength you can muster, which is quite a lot considering the massive amounts of adrenaline that are currently amping up your body - you throw it at him. It connects with his forehead sharply; a deep, irritated noise bursting from his throat as it crashes, splinters and falls to the floor.

You are braver, braver than you should be as your assault does not end there, your body pushing you forward, leaping over the table and crashing into his broad shoulders.

I will not die today

Body ramming into his, he stumbles, as your fist connects with his chin. You have only been partially trained in hand-to-hand combat, after pleading your brother for months until he eventually gave in. Sadly, he wasn't nearly as thorough and honest with it as he was training his drug dealer and gun runners. But now, it is the only thing you can rely on.

There is nothing else; no one else left alive in that building who might be able to help you. It is up to you. So, you might as well try.

And Oh, does desperation fire up your blood.

I will not die today

The diversion does not last long and he - John John John only human only human only human - grabs you by you waist hard, fingers digging into your flesh and into the expensive silk, before he slams your body into the ground. All air leaves your lungs with a dull sound erupting from your chest, just as pain blooms around your ribs.

You cough and he looks down at you, confusion making his brows twitch, before cold-hearted determination takes over once more. John aims his gun at you once more, pulls back the hammer and you do not even think about it, your leg rising as you kick against his hand. The shot misses, buries itself deep into the expensive carpet a few inches next to your skull. You have no time to do either: panic or sigh in relief; instead, you deliver him a kick to his stomach, fighting yourself back onto your feet, punching him straight in the face.

John grunts and grabs your wrist, but you see it coming and throw yourself into his wide frame, wrapping your other arm around his back and thus hooking it underneath his right shoulder, dislocating his arm and preventing him from aiming his gun at you. You claw onto him as he twists your arm close to his stomach, while you wrap your legs around him, making it harder for John to shake you off.

I will not die today

You kick and dig the heel of your foot into his thighs and the back of his knees and he grunts and buckles a little, but turns wild and relentless quicker than you can blink, throws the two of you into the next wall. You gasp sharply as your back connects with the large mirror, splinters digging into your back - not deep enough to actually cut skin, but it stings nonetheless, the impact making you dizzy.

Sharp pain shoots through your back and your neck, but you are not willing to give up yet, as raw energy and rage and desperation surges through your body - one of your legs coming loose and your knee hitting his stomach repeatedly, making John grunt in pain and you use your momentum to dig your hand deep into his back, holding onto him and then swirling out of the deadlock he has got you in, jumping his back like a monkey.

His gun clatters to the ground and for a split second, the room falls silent. Then, roaring like an animal gone wild, he grabs your calves and slams his back into the nearest wall, has you screaming with the impact. You can feel blood pouring from your nose, feel it trickling down your lips.

I will not die today

John is stronger than you are, so so much stronger - the apex predator: all muscle, unbreakable focus and the sheer will to kill. But you are not only a little quicker; you also really want to stay alive. It is a force he rarely encounters. And quite frankly, it irritates him.

He may be older than you, taller than you and stronger than you but you have something he does not have: you actually still got something to lose.

And you fight like it, too. All scratches and sharp yells, as you punch and scrabble at his shoulders and tear at his tie, trying to strangle him with it. John is struggling against it, gasping for air and winding beneath your assault and then his grip around your claves grows hard like iron, seconds before he pulls - throws you over his head like you weigh nothing. You land on the expensive carpet with a heavy thud - groaning as you crash onto your side with sharp pain shooting through your shoulder, down your ribcage.

I will not die today

John sputters and stumbles forward, looking for his gun but you are quicker, kicking it away with your foot. It clatters back onto and slides over the wooden floorboards.

For a second you consider your choices, fighting yourself back onto your feet but John - a practiced and seasoned fighter - beats you to it and lands a blow to your upper back, sends you back down with him - a mess of sputtering saliva and painful groans. His body topples onto yours and he quickly rolls the two of you over the floor.

John is heavy and warm on top of you, as he keeps you in a tight headlock, your chest pressed to the floor and neck bend in a painful angle. He presses his strong forearm down onto your windpipe and you choke and cough, feet kicking, hands dragging across the wood, clawing at it feebly.

You can feel his breath on your cheek, hot and damp. You can feel his torso pressing against your back as he kneels behind you.

I will not die today

Mustering all your remaining strength, you trash against him, ramming your backside into his stomach. He grunts and for a split second, his grip loosens. It is all you need. Throwing your elbow back, you hit him in the chest and he caves in.

You cough, crawling forward and then scrambling back onto your feet, one of your negligée’s straps falling down your shoulder in the process. You hastily pull it back up, seconds before John launches a cascade of punches onto you.

A few of them hit you as you try to block them; dull pain igniting in your body, blooming in your face and arms. Your breath goes heavy as you stumble backwards. You cannot do this. There is no way. You just physically can't.

He is stronger. Taller. Heavier. Deadlier. Your body and every single muscle, bone, nerve in it aches and you wheeze but he is already onto you again, half-tackles you and grabs your waist, ready to smash you back onto the ground.

You cling onto him with all your remaining strength, struggling against his huge frame, wrapping your hands around his neck in an attempt to get him to stumble.

His hair tingles on your naked arms. Oh wait --

Tearing at his hair - which has him grunting in both, pain, and irritation at the unusual attempt - you clumsily pull yourself up onto his shoulders, cutting his face right above his eyebrow with your nails in the process until you finally wrap one leg around his throat and close it around there tightly, choking him. John tries to pull you off him and succeeds after quite the tussle, only to find your frame clinging to him, legs and arms wrapping around his body, hands scratching and feet kicking.

I will not fucking die today

In an attempt to either get rid of each other or submit the last blow, to finally kill the other, you two swirl through the room - a deadly dance of torn skin, smashed glass panes and mirrors, bruises and cuts. Somewhere in between kicks and punches, he managed to pick up his gun - and right now, you are mustering all of your exhausted strength to prevent the barrel from pressing against your skull.

Eventually, John crashes your bodies through a large wooden door, and is not quick enough - unable to stop his own oxe-like strength - to stop himself from stumbling into the room. The two of you only come a halt as his knees hit something soft and ironically that is what finally topples both of you over, landing onto the mattress of your bedroom with a soft thud and deep, exhausted grunts.

Your ears ring, and you are ready to lash out at him again despite the physical exhaustion, to strike him square across the face, as --

There is something hard pressing against your crotch.

The world falls silent.

No. No, there's no fucking way. It's got to bea hidden weapon. Must be.

But clearly, it is not. There, between your spread legs, his hard cock presses snugly against your panty-clad pussy.

And he just feels so huge - mouth-watering huge - that your body responds in its own way, hips snapping up, stuttering against the hard bulge. John lets go off a shaky, ragged breath, hand still clutching his gun. And you know, that this is your window.

Feeling the warmth that his body and his hard dick are radiating through his expensive suit, you roll your hips once - a languid, slow motion, rubbing your pussy over his bulge.

And he groans. A deep, primal sound that sounds a little coarse. John is looking at you, starring you down, but there is a shadow dancing over his eyes, turning his brown eyes into deep and dark, black pits that gives him away.

He is horny. The Boogeyman is fucking horny. You would laugh, if the realization wasn't knocking all air straight from your lungs. Because it just another reminder, proof of what he actually is: human.

And what a sight he is to see - eyes turning darker every second, his chest heaving with every breath and making it seem like his shirt is going to pop a button or two any second now, his cock prodding against its restraints and your clothed cunt.

It makes you want him. The thought leaves you dizzy, makes you gasp.

Apparently, that is all he needs to roll his hips back into yours. And that - that is just unfair. It's playing dirty. It's, it's -- His dick feels huge as it trails along your folds, has the muscles in your abdomen clenching.

"Fuck", you breathe, a little overwhelmed with and helpless at the sudden surge of lust that ignites your body, the wetness pooling between your legs.

John is not saying anything, just stares you down while he continues to slooowly roll his hips into yours, grinds his cock against your cunt. Your pelvis twitches upward as you start to meet his movements, and then you can hear it. He let's go of a deep breath, and it sounds like the faintest moan.

You need to hear more of that. You need more of him, your cunt aching and hole clenching around nothing already.

"John", and this time you say his name - consciously - it sounds a different way of desperate: your voice reduced to a small whisper, torn at the edges by a wanton whimper ripping from your throat.

If it throws him off-guard he does not show it, does not let you see it. Instead, he grabs your chin hard, gaze locking with yours. Dark pupils blown wide, swallowing the honey-brown of his eyes, and your breath hitches.

"Yeah?", he rasps, and it does not take more than one long look from you for him to lean in, to press his lips onto yours.

The kiss tastes of blood and adrenaline and doom, and you relish in it. Relishing the way his lips move against yours and his beard tickles a little, relishing how his tongue presses into your mouth. It feels like he is eating you whole, licking into your mouth, one hand dancing over your waist - featherlight, like he doesn't know how to touch a body without hurting someone, destroying someone.

I will not die today, motherfucker

Your whole body now sings with it, the security of an impending victory, as you roll your hips into his once more, your tongue now licking back into his mouth. For a second you think about how to strike again, now that he is seemingly distracted, but all will to fight leaves your body as one of his hands brushes over your knee, wanders further and eventually rests on your thigh.

The touch is electrifying and then his hand grows braver, his movements more certain, as he grabs your thigh, feels you up. It happens so suddenly, that you gasp into the kiss.

John parts from you, his lips a little plush already. "Oh God", you whisper as you stare Death Turned Human straight in the face, not a single thought remaining in your skull despite your lust.

He doesn't speak, as he gently let’s go off your leg and straightens back up and for a second you think he is going to hurt you, with the way his brows are furrowed - but he doesn't.

Instead, he moves in, right over your comparably tiny frame - a mountain of a man. John kneels above you, his weight pinning you down while he straddles your thighs and Jesus fucking Christ - what a sight he is to see.

Dark locks falling into his forehead, a little sticky with sweat and the bits of blood from the cut your nails gave him moments ago - right above his left eyebrow, still lazily trickling down into his lashes. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, as he hastily gets rid of his jacket, carelessly drops it to the ground. His black button-down clings to his muscular body underneath his waistcoat and his equally as muscular thighs pin you down to the bed, black fabric nearly tearing at the seams. And then there is his hard cock.

It looks as huge as it felt, with the way it bulges his pants, the outline of it clearly visible as it buckles proudly against its restraints. You are certain, you will not be able to close your hand around it fully - not a chance.

One of his hands - the one lacking a finger, which you only now notice and what sends shivers down your spine - wanders over your body, pulling your negligée down in the process, right tit spilling out of the soft silk. He immediately grabs it, cups it with his large hand and squeezes. You mewl, marveling at just how big his hand is, just as his whole body is in comparison to you. His fucked-up finger digs into the flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

John's hand gropes your tit, before he impatiently pulls the neckline down roughly. You sigh, arousal shooting down your spine and tingling in your lower belly, as two of his fingers nudge your nipple, pinch it.

He watches your face intently, as he continues to grope you, rolls your nipple between his fingers. You mewl, breath accelerating a little but it is just not enough and you buck your hips upwards. John grunts in, what you assume is an approving manner, and let's go off your tit, reaches to his belt at his loins.

Quickly pulling a knife from God-knows-where exactly, a sharp blade enters your vision.

You blink, panic seeping through your lust and your legs twitch a little with fear. If John notices it, he neither shows it nor does he say anything, just moves the knife closer to your body.

The blade shines in the dim light as it dances over your exposed thighs carefully, the metal cooly pressing against your skin, before he flicks it and cuts your negligée open. The thin, soft fabric cleanly cut in half it now lazily slides from your aching body, falls to its sides. Your chest heaves, shivers running down your arms and back.

It happens so quickly that you can only blink. As your brain finally catches up with your eyes, you come to realize that he is holding a real fucking tactical knife. You have thrown one once - they are sharp as hell and deadlier than a bullet. The sound of fabric tearing easily, like paper, proves your point.

And John's movements with the blade are so fast that your breath hitches, a little afraid he might cut you. But he does not, instead, he quickly pulls the torn silk off you and away from under you, carelessly tosses it into the dark of the room.

The edge of the blade dances over your skin and you do not dare to breathe, as he trails it up and down your curves, gently nudges your nipples. "I could kill you", he says calmly and then, in lightning speed, presses the blade into the crook of your neck. Your head sinks back into the mattress, in an instinct to flee the sharp edge.

All it does is to expose your neck further and something gleams in John's eyes, as he presses the sharp tip down slowly, carefully nudging your skin with it. The metal is cold and hard and sharp and your breath hitches. Just a little bit more and it might burst your skin, draw blood.

But, to your own confusion, you do not feel threatened anymore. Oddly enough, your nerves tingle with excitement. You blame it on the already high levels of adrenaline that still pump through your veins, rushing back and forth from your brain and your lungs, but a small voice inside of your head whisper gently, deviously, that you know That's not it. And he knows it, too.

It's in his eyes as well, the sheer excitement of it all, the fucked-up pleasure it evokes in the both of you lays heavy in the air.

It turns you fucking on. It turns you on, that the man who - minutes ago - tried you kill you and did hurt you very fucking badly in the process of it, now decides to let you live.

It turns you on, that you are at his mercy.

It turns you on, that he decided to spare you - just for now.

It turns you on, that these large and strong hands holding the knife have that sort of power over you. And thus, as the blade nudges your head back further, you moan.

"I could cut your throat", John's voice is heavy and thick with arousal and you can feel your heartbeat picking up, breath accelerating. His gaze drops down, watches the rapid rising and falling of your breasts hungrily, while another soft moan escapes from your lips.

"Don't", you breathe softly.

The knife practically burns on your skin, and you can feel arousal flooding your clothed pussy, rubbing your thighs together for any sort of friction. John can feel your squirming underneath him, but he can also see your eyes turning watery and dark with lust, pupils blown and a pretty pink spreading on your cheeks, your breath growing shallow. And he just really needs to fucking taste you right now.

As quickly as it appeared, the blade vanishes from your throat before he twirls the knife like the ruthless, reckless professional that he is, and buries it deep to the hilt in the mattress next to you. The sharp sound as it pierces the thick fabric has the hairs on your body standing up, goosebumps rolling over your skin.

"I'll do it later", he rumbles - casually, like he is talking about doing chores or picking up groceries - before hunching over you, grabbing your chin with his fucked-up hand, and kissing you again. His tongue immediately pushes into your mouth, like he is starving to taste you.

John eats you whole, with the way his lips move against yours. His hand cups your face, tongue licking into your mouth, toying with yours. His kiss steals your breath and you start to get dizzy with it, hips bucking. You can feel his lips curling up and then he parts from you, leaving you a gasping mess, spit pooling at the corners of your mouth.

"Let me touch you, John", you whisper, voice a little small because you do not know why you feel that way, and if he will even allow it. But you just need to feel him.

For a long moment his gaze dances over your face and something shifts behind his eyes, like a shadow gets lifted and then very quickly returns. Ultimately, he gives a court nod, so small you nearly miss it and gives you a little more room while straightening back up.

Carefully, as if not to spook him, you dart one hand out, place it on his chest. The muscle is firm underneath his suit and you run your hand along the lapel of his jacket, down and then back up, before it slips beneath it.

John's body radiates warmth under the black fabric of his shirt and your other hand comes up, before you shove the jacket off his shoulders and onto the floor next to the bed.

Your breath hitches.

He is wearing a holster, a reminder of his deadliness, of the gun laying somewhere next to you. Maybe, he sees the fear returning in your eyes, but he is quick to shrug the holster off, throws it into the dark where it clatters onto the wooden floor boards. What is left in front of you are broad shoulders and a muscular chest, the fabric nearly tearing at his movements.

As you run your hands over it, you cannot help yourself - you need to fucking feel him for real.

Quickly making work of his waistcoat and tie you toss both to the side carelessly, before your hands roam his broad chest. His button-down clings snugly against his upper body and you can feel the muscles work beneath the black fabric as your hands brush over them. You tug at the shirt, pulling its tails from his pants before hastily opening the first few buttons. The skin underneath is pale, littered by blue - red - black bruises, birthmarks scattered in between like stars. You pop open the rest of the buttons, greedy to touch him. And as the shirt falls to the sides your hands are already onto his chest, roaming over and admiring the muscular, defined canvas of strength, that violence has painted a pretty picture on.

John is watching you intently as you undress him and then explore his body, your pupils blown wide and dark, mouth agape a little. He is a little taken aback by it - by someone not seeing his body as the ultimate tool of death that it is, but as something else, that he cannot really pinpoint because he can't even look in the mirror without seeing destruction and decay. But the way your gaze wanders over his body, the way you touch him, is different from that and he has not felt anything like it in years.

And John wants. Carnal desire tugs at his brain, shoots arousal between his legs, makes his cock twitch and a low growl escaping his throat.

The sound gets you going: pushing yourself up with one hand, the other wrapping around his strong neck for leverage as you sit up, mouth immediately clutching to his throat. He tastes of sweat and after-shave - sharp and musky - and you run your tongue over his skin greedily, licking and sucking at the skin while your naked body presses against his.

It disarms him. The gentle touch that you put his body up to, while everything still aches from plowing through the better half of your father's militia and beating the hell out of you, confuses him. Your touch, your lips on his skin are soft and not aiming to hurt - instead, they grow more and more needy, wanton and hasty, as you lick over his bruised skin, tasting his sweat. Your hands over his abdomen caress his defined muscles, in awe of his utter strength, thumbs brushing through the soft and dark trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his trousers. And all John can do, is watch, his gaze locking with yours as goosebumps erupt on his skin.

And you - oh you; your head swims with the way you turn this animal into a human again, unlock a different set of animalistic needs within him and hearing John's breath growing heavy really fucking does it for you, feeling his scarred and beaten-up skin underneath your hands, wrapping them around the deadly machine that is his body. It makes you want more.

Shedding his blood-stained shirt off of his shoulders, your hands roam over his upper back - feeling the scars there: of knives, larger and small ones and round ones of bullets that once pierced his skin. There is something else, a burn scar, in the shape of a cross and he hisses as your fingers brush over it, nails digging into the stunted skin.

It pulls John out of his stasis, reminds him of who he is and you can feel the air swinging with it seconds before he moves. His large hands wrap around your shoulders and then he pulls you off him, throws you back onto the mattress. You yelp, eyes growing wide as you watch his face as it turns from lightly dazed back to stern, wild, with his brows furrowed.

"That's enough", he says, voice coarse and it still feels like a small victory, even though he spreads your legs roughly, hands digging deep into your thighs - hard enough to bruise - before he kneels between them. He yanks your body forward at the back of your knees, watches your tits bounce and then leans in, his lips immediately attacking your throat, your neck.

His lips are surprisingly soft against your skin, his beard tickling a little as it brushes over your tits, your stomach, your thighs while his tongue licks fat stripes over your nipples and down down down your upper body, right to your navel. One of his hands creeps up your body once more and roughly cups your tit, squeezes, and gropes it, rolls your hardened nipple between his index and middle finger. His stunted ring-finger digs deep into your tit and you gasp, hips bucking. John's lips suck and nibble at your skin, before eventually ghosting over your pubic bone, teasing you before assaulting your thighs again, teeth biting down gently into the soft flesh. You gasp and moan while he gropes your body, inhales your scent - as you watch how his lips, tongue, and teeth dance over your thighs, moving closer to your cunt.

John finally, finally, puts his mouth onto your pussy, peppers open-mouthed kisses around your clit, before clothing his lips around it and sucking on it hard through your panties. Your hips buck as a high-pitched moan erupts from your throat, hands flying into his greying locks.

"Fuck", you whine, feeling fresh wetness flooding your folds, dampening the thin fabric further. John can see the outlines of your wet pussy pressing against your panties and parts from your clit momentarily, only to lick a fat stripe over your clothed cunt, watching it twitch.

"That's fucking pretty", he rasps, gaze locking with yours and you feel all air leaving your lungs. His eyes are so fucking dark, like gleaming black pits swallowing you whole, his breath a little flat with arousal.

You want him to fuck you. Really fuck you. To plow you open, rail you until you cannot sit nor walk. He is already so so close to you, but too far away at the same time. "Please", is all you manage to utter out. And it seems to be sufficient enough for him; seems to get across what you want, what you need.

John's fingers wrap around the front of your lace slip, tugging at the fabric - that rubs along your cunt at the sudden motion and has you gasping quietly - and then he pulls. The lace tears easily as he rips it apart, and cool air hits your wet and hot pussy, as he practically peels you out of your underwear, throws it to the side. The look on his face is wild and you can hear him taking a deep breath, smelling your arousal, before he spreads your folds apart with his thumbs, gaze wandering over your plump and flushed cunt.

Teasingly brushing over your clit with his thumb, John watches your reaction intently. And fuck, you do not disappoint. Throwing your head back, you moan, drawing in a deep breath through your opened mouth that heaves your chest, your eyelids fluttering.

You are dying for him to touch you and as he does, it feels like your body catches fire - lust washing away the dull pain in your limbs and near your ribs.

"Oh God", you breathe out as his thumb draws another wide and slow circle over your clit, your hands darting out and grabbing the sheets "Please."

And John complies, his thumb rubbing over your clit in a slow but steady rhythm.

Gasping, your hands clutch the sheets, knees darting away from each other, giving him more space. John accepts the invitation, grabs one thigh hard, fucked up ring-finger digging deep into your skin. His fingers move further, abandons your clit and dance over your folds, down to your hole. It flutters as two of his digits tease it, gently circling around it.

"Please", you whine once more, lifting your hips a little, a desperate noise leaving your throat. John smirks to himself, before pushing two of his fingers into you.

The stretch is sudden and bigger than expected and you moan coarsely, as he pushes his digits along your walls deeply and nestles them into your seeping hot cunt up to his knuckles. And Jesus, you feel so full already; your head swimming as you consider how big his cock must feel, then.

Your breath goes quick and shallowly as he starts to move them, and then he leans in. Nudges your clit with the tip of his tongue, licks over it.

You feel like combusting on the spot: your nerves tingling with arousal, your whole body still aching from the beating you gave each other earlier - the pain in your back blooming as you stretch it with your hips desperately shoving themselves near his touch - your pussy squeezing his fingers.

John pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, his tongue rubbing and circling your clit and soft, needy moans fall from your lips. Obscene, wet sounds fill the air, mingle with your moans and heavy breathing. His lips close in around your clit, sucking at it while his fingers rub along your spongy walls and your cunt squeezes them hard as fresh wetness floods your folds, your squirt wetting his beard and dripping down on the sheets below.

You can hear - feel - John humming against your pussy, peppering the wet skin with open mouthed kisses, licking over it, and tasting your slick.

You feel so fucking good - lust pulsating through your veins, loins on fire - and your head falls to the side, body rocking with sharp gasps and your mouth agape, eyelids fluttering as --

There's the gun. And the knife.

You could easily grab either one or the other next to you, pull the blade out of the matress or the hammer back; put a bullet right between his eyes or plow the blade deep deep into his skull. Killing the Boogeyman. Killing Baba Yaga.

That would do wonders to your family's business. It would emancipate you from it, you would be free. Free to rule.

"Thinking 'bout killing me?", John rumbles, tongue licking a fat stripe over your cunt, nudging your clit. Your gaze flickers back to him: hair a mess, eyes gleaming darkly, hands on your thighs to keep your legs spread. He does not look surprised. Neither does he look worried.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head: he is toying with you. Has been the whole fucking time. The wolf hunting the deer, running a few rounds through the woods to weaken it; its breath whistling with exhaustion, long legs buckling before it collapses - an easy kill. An easy kill for an old wolf, one, that can't quite handle a real hunt anymore.

But maybe, just maybe - judging from the look in his eyes - he got lost in his own game. Its reins slipped from his bloody hands, the wolf tumbling to the ground.

Looking back at him, your lips curl into a sweet smile. "Not anymore", your hand darts out, brushing the loose strands of dark hair from his face - the soft gesture leaving him visibly confused -, "John."

Two can play this game. And maybe, just maybe, the deer can tire the wolf out first.

Something gleams in John's eyes, dances over them like a shadow and he seems to accept the challenge - readying to tire you out - tongue licking over your clit once more, making you shiver and mewl, as he pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole. You feel empty and --

"Do you really think, you could kill me?", he rumbles, voice deep and rough around the edges, "Stupid slut."

And then, quicker than your brain can process it, his hand comes down on your dripping wet pussy.

Your breath hitches, topples over and leaves your throat as a raw, needy moan. Softly stinging pain blooms between your folds and sets your nerves on fire. Blame it on the bruises, blame it on the pain you both inflicted on each other moments ago, but: it riles you up. Mingles with your aching bones and aching cunt, has you arching your back.

"Y'really think you could kill me", he doesn't sound offended, not even amused - voice plain, like he is inquiring if you really believed the earth to be flat. Like you really are stupid.

And you start to feel stupid, too. There was never a chance. You never had a chance. Your death was sealed, determined the second John stepped into the hotel.

You were stupid to believe you could outrun or beat him. You are stupid. And John has every right to show you, teach you, punish you for it.

Giving your cunt another firm slap, John watches your hips twitch, hears your pussy squelching and soft moans falling from your lips. "Shit", you sigh and he slaps your wet pussy once more, feels your slick folds wetting the palm of his hand.

"D'you like that, girl?", and as your only response are wanton gasps falling from your mouth John chuckles deeply, gives your pulsating cunt another two firm slaps. Seeing how he is pulling you apart, how good he makes you feel really seems to do it for him, gets him quite talkative.

"Uh-huh", you make dumbly, quite illiterate, watching him stroking your flushed, hot cunt with two of his fingers. Shivers run down your spine.

And then he leans back in, licks a fat stripe over your sensitive, flushed cunt, from the hole up to the clit.

You squirm, mewl as his beard brushes over your overstimulated skin, leaving a slight burn that mingles deliciously with a fresh wave of arousal that floods your body scalp to toes.

The muscles in your abdomen clench as two of his fingers circle your fluttering hole and then push in, rubbing along your plush walls agonizingly slowly and you can feel yourself tightening around it. Your juices squelch from your cunt as you squirt against his tongue and your slick runs down your folds, wets his fingers and palm while his tongue laps at your pussy, tasting your sweetness.

John pushes is fingers deeper as you moan and sigh, hands fisting his hair and hips moving against his tongue, his digits thrusting into you.

"Oh god", you huff as his lips close in around your clit, sucking on it and the tip of his tongue flicking against it occasionally.

Another wave of fresh wetness floods your cunt as you squirt once more, wetting the sheets below, your slick running down John's wrist.

John parts from your clit, nudges it with his tongue, his beard glistening with your juices.

"Yeah, that's fucking it", another one of his thick fingers pumps itself into your tight little hole and his other hand - also slick with your juices - grabs your thigh, "That's a good girl."

You feel so full, your spine feels like it's on fire and your brain tingles with it, sends wave of pleasure down down down your body; muscles in your loins clenching, chest heaving. It becomes all too much as he leans back in, rubs his tongue over your clit, lips sucking and teasing your folds.

The slight burn of John's beard tickling your plush, hot cunt. His fingers working your open and stretching your tight little hole open far and wide, obscene squelching sounds filling the air as he works you open, brushing against your g-spot occasionally and making you see stars.

But it's too little. It's just not enough.

"Fuck", you whine as John's thick fingers brush over your g-spot with quite some force, tongue lapping at your seeping cunt, "Shit, please. Please, just fuck me, please!"

You can feel him grinning against your wet cunt, beard a little sticky with your juices, letting go of your pussy with an obscene pop. "Yeah", he licks his lips, tastes you on his tongue, "D'you want my cock?"

And that - that might be what makes you lose your mind. Because yes. Yes, you do.

You have been craving to touch it, to feel it since it had pressed against your clothed pussy earlier. Thus, all dignity leaves your body with one, clean whine that breaks free from your throat.

"Yes, fuck - oh god, John", you brabble, legs falling apart further, inviting him in, his digits sinking deeper into your soaking wet hole, "Shit, please fuck me, John - please, please, please --"

Pleas are still falling from your lips like a chant, as a surprising noise breaks the silence, so strangely beautiful that it has you nearly shuddering: John is laughing. It's a nice baritone sound, and the fine lines around his eyes crinkle with it - it's so beautiful, that it drowns the world out. You watch him in awe, as he shakes his head, avoids your gaze.

"Jesus. Look at you", he huffs, voice dripping thickly with amusement, "If you need it that badly--"

Straightening back up and kneeling between your legs, John slips his fingers from your cunt and makes quick work of his belt, trousers, and boxers. The second he frees is cock, you start to drool like a fucking pavlovian-dog.

His dick is so fucking huge. It is nicely curved and cut, the bulbous pink head glistening with pre-cum and a thick, pumping vein at the bottom that rakes from the base to the tip, as it rests between trimmed, dark pubic hair. His cock bobs against his abdomen as it bounces free, smears the pre-cum along the pale skin, twitches at the sudden contact. And Jesus fucking Christ, you just want to fucking touch it, feel its velvety skin in your palm. But you just know that you won't even be able to wrap your hand around its base fully, it's impossible, it--

"I-it won't fit", you whisper, a little taken aback by his sheer size.

"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby."

John takes his cock in one hand, thumb right beneath its head, and rubs it against your slit. And Jesus fucking Christ. Your hips snap up, meet his movements, and he grunts while he spreads his pre-cum along your cunt, gathers your slick. The thick head of his dick prods against your entrance and you take a deep breath, looking down between your legs. You watch how he slooowly pushes in and you gasp at the sudden intrusion, the delicious stretch making you moan.

His cock feels so fucking big, hot, and heavy, as he nestles the tip in, your hole clenching around it. John's brows furrow, and he doesn't wait long until he pushes his cock in further.

The thick base starts to stretch your slim rings of muscles, a sharp pain shooting through it. He can feel your hole protesting, can see you wincing. "Breathe, baby", he hums, "Let me do the rest."

His coarse voice mingles with his words and the waves of pleasure shooting through your body despite the dull pain, conjures up a pretty pretty image that floods your brain - there's sunlight everywhere, orange rays of it hitting a bed covered in white sheets, sweaty bodies on top of it; limbs entangled, hands intertwined with their golden rings shining brightly in the warm light, heavy breathing and sloppy kisses, and lazy thrusts as his cock fucks you awake. The thought makes you dizzy, your legs falling apart and hole fluttering open, inviting him in.

The slight burn leaves you a gasping, whimpering mess as he pushes himself in deep, nestles his huge cock in between your aching, hot, and tight walls.

And John feels like he is going to pass out. No blow to the head, no bullet to the chest, no knife to the stomach could ever make him feel as dizzy as the feeling of your hot cunt squeezing him does right now. His whole body is vibrating with want and lust and he just really hopes that you don't notice that he has gotten a little rusty. The thought quickly gets drowned-out as he looks down, where his thick cock practically splits you open, vanishes in your hole.

"Shit", he huffs out, places one large hand on your stomach and thrusts. Feeling himself moving inside of you has him moaning, gaze shooting up to you, meeting your eyes, as his hand presses down. "You feel me right here, baby?", he rasps and you nod, mouth agape by the sheer force of his thrust, tip of his cock prodding your cervix.

John can see his cock moving inside of you, the way your stomach bulges a little. He gets a little dizzy with, and then his eyes make the mistake of moving up to your face. And it takes a whole lot of fucking will-power of him to not just thrust and thrust and thrust and fuck you until you cry, bleed.

You are so fucking pretty. Mouth agape you watch how his cock vanishes between your legs, splits your cunt open, with his eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks flushed. Your lips are plush and red from his assault.

Your hands grip the sheets and your breasts heave with your deep breaths, that grow a little more flaccid. Next to you lays his gun, knife still buried into the mattress. His eyes drop to the weapons and his breath hitches. And for a split second, like a flash of light, he wonders what in God's name he's doing here. He is a professional. The Ballerina works like that. He doesn't.

A sweet, sweet noise rips him out of his thoughts. "J-john", you mewl, eyes still trained on his massive dick splitting you open, "I-it, it's --"

"Yeah?", he breathes, the sound all soft and careful around the edges.

"Heavy", you breathe.

"Does it hurt?", he kind of wants it to. Make you pay for what you did to him. He kind of doesn't want it to. Make you enjoy what he's got to give.

John realizes he is fucked.

You nod, head flying back into the cushions, while your brows dart together.

John's free hand flies to your clit, nudges it gently, before slowly rubbing wide circles over it. You gasp, as you feel fresh wetness flooding your cunt and dripping down your folds to where his cock splits your hole open, pools around it. He carefully pulls out a little and then pushes back in, assisted by your slick. The way you moan spurs him on and the circles on your clit grow faster and smaller.

Aching your back, you lean into the touch. "That's a good girl", he whispers, voice raw and coarse, dripping with lust and the exhaustion of holding back. John bottoms out, while continuing to rub your clit and he can feel your walls growing plush, your hole fluttering around his dick, relaxing with your hot, seeping cunt inviting him in. "Feels good?"

"Yeah, fuck", you feel like you are being split open, with his thick cock filling you to the brim and rubbing along your walls with every little movement, the thick head prodding gently against your cervix, "Shit, John."

It feels so fucking good, all thoughts being washed away from your brain as he starts to move carefully, thrusts into you once, twice. You moan, lips slightly parted, before your gaze flies to him.

And Fuck. John's chest is flushed a little, muscles of his abdomen flexing with every thrust while his gaze is trained down to where his cock fucks into you, brows darted together a little and his breathing audible.

"John?", you whisper, and his gaze immediately shoots up to you as your comparably tiny hand wraps around the wrist of his hand that is still rubbing your clit.

"Yeah?"

"Fuck me."

For a long moment, he just looks at you and you think - no, you are convinced - that you can see a glimpse of the human being he once was. Caring, sweet and gentle; as he seems to really take it into consideration if you are ready yet, if you know what you are begging for.

Apparently, he does deem you prepared enough, and the soft gaze gets replaced by a dark gleam as all gentleness vanishes from his face once more. Without a warning, John rolls his hips back only to thrust into you again, deep, and hard, immediately picking up a quick rhythm.

It comes as a genuine surprise to you and you gasp, mewling but it quickly feels just so fucking good, practically lights your body up and leaves every nerve-ending on fire, each thrust has you moaning loudly.

It spurs him on, makes him grunt and for a while, you both just watch him gliding in and out of your tight hole, with him feeling your muscles squeezing him and you feeling his cock stretching your open further and further. Your lips as slightly parted and his brows are furrowed as he rolls his hips into yours and you feel time getting lost on you, the only thing of importance remaining is the feeling of him filling you up. John's hands roam your body, wandering over your thighs and your stomach, your hips before angling your leg, pushing the heel of your foot on his shoulder, and grabbing your ankle with one hand, his dick slips into you even further, balls slapping against your ass heavily with each thrust.

You can tell that John has not fucked in a long, long time. It's not the way he does it - all fluid, languid thrust of his hips, muscles dancing under the soft skin. It's mostly the way he pants and grunts - sounds just as desperate as you feel. And still, he has the stamina of a racehorse.

You can feel that he wants to prove it, too, as his free hand grabs your thigh and hoists your other leg over his hip bone, practically pulling your lower half off the bed in the process. Your pelvis now clings to his, obscene sounds of his cock fucking into your wet pussy filling the air while he huffs with his thrusts, yet does not slow down.

The grip on both, your ankle and your thigh are hard, and you are certain his hands will leave a bruise but you just cannot bring yourself to care. Deep down you know, that someone will see them: your maids, your friends, your family.

But all thoughts, all worries get swapped from your brain as your gaze wanders up from where John's dick hammers into you steadily, rakes over his defined stomach and chest and finally, finally lands on his face.

He looks downright, utterly, and breathtakingly -- pornographic.

John's dark pupils blown wide gleaming with arousal, his cheeks are slightly blushed and a thin layer of sweat makes him glow in the dim light of the living room falling onto the bed. It surrounds him like a halo, a Saint of Death and Decay, with his dark hair falling into his forehead and onto his shoulders. He brushes it out of the way with his stunted hand, a ragged breath making his chest heave. There is still some of your slick wetting his beard.

You can't help your mind from going there, from wondering how different things could have been. What it would be like if you had met me in a bar instead of him entering your suite, leaving the hallway behind him looking like a slaughterhouse. Maybe he would have laughed at your jokes, in the dim light of your favorite bar in the city. Maybe he would have liked the same music as you do. Maybe, just maybe, he would have brought you home only to stay the night and fuck you until you would have lost your goddamn mind.

Your hand wanders down your body, strokes your waist and hip in the process, before it languidly drops between your spread legs, two fingers darting out and rubbing circles over your sensitive clit.

John moves quickly, his usual deadly precision shattering your peaceful fantasy, his hand ditching your thigh and closing in around your waist. "Don't you fuckin' touch yourself", he growls, and it's the first time you hear real, actual emotion dwelling in his throat - not his toneless, cold and mechanical rumble. He sounds pissed. Offended.

And the best part is: it seems to get him fucking going.

John leans in, your calf still resting on his shoulder and the slight pain of the stretch is delicious as he nearly folds your body in half. You can feel his dick sliding in even deeper into your hole and you gasp and whine, one hand coming up to dig into his biceps to just hold on. Hold on, while he pounds into you with perfectly angled, deep and strong thrusts, hitting your g-spot with every single one of them.

You know that the suite's door is in shambles, that anyone could walk in here and see you having your brains fucked out by the man who is here to kill you - but you don't care. Part of it is, because the gun is still resting next to your head on the sheets. You could just grab it and shoot anyone dead in heartbeat, whoever is trying to disturb the pleasure that shoots through your body.

But it is also him.

It's the way John is towering over you, back hunched, looking all wide and powerful and deadly, with the way he shields your body from view and harm as he thrusts into you. As he pushes all his rage, adrenaline, and strength into your tight hole, groans, and pants into your ear.

There is nothing you can do, despite holding onto him, nails digging into his back, clutching his broad shoulders, fingers running over his tattoos desperately. He is fucking the living daylight out of you, your body moving like a ragdoll underneath the mountain of muscles and strength. Your cunt is being split open by his cock, as you feel him hammering into you and you feel like you are going to lose your mind, panting and moaning with each of his thrusts.

"John, fuck", you moan sweetly, eyes rolling into your skull as he pounds into you, "You feel so fucking good, shit --"

"Yeah", he huffs, his forehead slowly sinking onto yours, "You too, baby."

You can see his eyelids fluttering, feel his upper body heaving beneath your hands, smell the blood on his skin, mingling with his musky scent. Blaming it on the sickening cocktail of hormones that is flooding both - your brain and your body - you lean in, your lips desperately smacking against his.

And Jesus Fucking Christ. Does John kiss you.

Kisses you like he is starving for it, licking back into your mouth - his body pressing yours into the mattress with his whole weight and muscle, while still thrusting into you.

Your hands tangle into his hair, tugging at it. John moans against your lips and your stomach flutters at the sound, and you want more. One hand moves to lay at the crook of his neck and your tongue presses against his, licking back into his mouth. Adding some force to his neck you invite John deeper into the kiss, and he follows suite, steals you the last bit of air your lungs were holding. Panting you part from him, thumb brushing over the crook of his neck.

Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself. You feel so alive and you want him to wreck you, to leave something behind that you will remember for every day your heart continues to beat. Greedily breathing against his lips, you can't help yourself but to whisper: "Harder."

John blinks, hips stuttering. And then, he grunts. His hand digs into your waist as he grabs you there, hold you in place will his hips rut into you. Picking up a near brutal rhythm, obscene sounds of your slick being pushed in and out and in out of your hole as he jackhammers into your g-spot, the bedframe rattling as John's thrusts pound it into the wall - leaving you a gasping and moaning mess. His belt clinks with his thrusts and you cling onto him, sharp whines escaping your throat.

"John John John", his name leaves your mouth like a mantra, sharp and high-pitched. His head falls forward, dark locks brushing over your cheek as his temple rests against yours and then you hear it.

John moans.

It's a deep, carnal sound. Your stomach flutters and lust shoots through your body at the noise, your tight cunt squeezing his thick cock as you squirt around his cock like a broken fucking hose, wetting his pubic hair. You can feel it rubbing along your wet folds, the sensation making you mewl, leaves your hips shuddering.

"Shit", you breathe, hands cradling his muscular back and then you can feel his dick twitching inside of you, accompanied by yet another one of his sweet, sweet moans, "Fuck, John--"

He raises his head and your gazes connect, before he leans in, presses his lips onto yours once more. The kiss is surprisingly soft and in stark contrast to the way he ruts and pounds into you and then he hits the spot once more and -

Everything goes white as your muscles clench and unclench suddenly, as you nearly scream against his lips; your hole practically milking his cock as you cum, pussy gushing and squirting around him like a broken hose.

John continues to fuck you through your orgasm and his heavy breathing reaches your ears through the cotton candy, that slowly wraps you in as everything turns light and bright. He moans deeply against your cheek as he comes, too - shoots hot ropes of cum into you and paints your walls with it.

His movements still as he buries himself deep into you, cock twitching with each thick rope of his cum and you can feel him fill you up, as his massive frame slowly sinks down onto you.

Your legs grow heavy and the stretch of your left leg is turning painful and you - a little clumsily - pull it away from his shoulder, stretch it out. Your limbs start to shake and you close your eyes, drawing in deep breaths through your nose.

The room is silent, the air heavy with the musky scent of sex.

Your chest still heaves with the remains of your orgasm, bliss still spreading in your brain and your veins, making you feel like you are flying. Your heart is still racing, as you feel him moving again.

Blinking up at him, you can see him grabbing the gun.

"Don't", you say softly, voice coarse from screaming your lungs out in pleasure just moments ago, "Please, don't." You are not ready to scream yet again. Not ready to scream in pain, instead of pleasure.

John does not reply. He pulls the hammer back, checks the chamber - all with one hand.

"Kill him instead, please."

He freezes, eyes locking with yours. "Who?", he sounds just as exhausted as you. The wolf, tired out. The deer, bleeding, limping.

Call it Post Nut Clarity, call it Finally Taking Your Future In Your Own Hands, call it Emancipating Yourself. Call it Having Wrapped A Deadly Assassin Around Your Pinky.

You were not safer here. You never were. Just more isolated. Easier to locate.

Easier to kill.

Realization hits you like a blow to the head, your vision swimming.

See? I will not die today.

"My father. Kill him."

#i'm back girlies #john wick smut #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #smut #my writing #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #keanu reeves smut

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ericscroptop · 3 months

Text

Wet Dreams

✧ pairing: eric sohn x mid-size/chubby fem! reader

✦ genre: friends to lovers + smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) smut, kissing, cursing, slight angst, inexperienced reader, hand job, male receiving, lots of spit, fondling, praising/praise kink, pet names, talk of insecurities, body issues, internalized fat phobia, etc., pls be cautious because i know it can be a sensitive topic for some!

✦ word count: 9.3k words (LMAOOOO)

✧ synopsis: your friend eric invites you over to his house for a swim and it is then that you realize eric wants you in ways you would’ve never imagined for yourself.

✦ note: this fic is kinda self indulgent—written as someone who is mid-size/chubby and has insecurities. i just want people who have a chubbier/thicker/fat body to feel loved and be included explicitly in writings because we are all deserving of love and affection!

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You hated swimming.

Well— okay, so you didn’t actually hate swimming.

Your disinterest for the activity was not rooted in swimming itself, but for the fact that you’d have to wear some sort of bikini in order to swim.

Technically, there wasn’t a law that said you had to wear a bikini to the beach or the pool. There are plenty of people who happily choose to wear something like a t-shirt or cover-up that’s more generous while swimming for whatever reason.

There are also a plethora of bathing suits that exist, so there’s gotta be one that you feel comfortable in, right?

The thing is, you plainly felt insecure in showing skin. You were insecure of your arms that seemed to carry excess fat that was especially visible when you moved them. Your belly hung low and it honestly was more plump than your behind. You also had skin-colored stretch marks that decorated your lower back that never seemed to go away.

These were things about you that you constantly dwelled on no matter what. You couldn’t recall a day where the topic of your body didn’t flood your mind.

You had no problem in people showing skin at all. At the end of the day, the problem was simply your lack of confidence due to society’s beauty standards that have been shoved in your face, pressed into your mind, and flooded your ears for as long as you could remember.

Though today, you were attempting at conquering your insecurities and finally stepping out of your comfort zone.

It was scorching in L.A. today. It was too hot to go out but also too hot to just rot in your home all day. Even with air conditioning, you just felt nasty.

Your friend Eric invited you to come to his house for a nightly swim. A wave of anxiety hit you when you had read his text of the invitation. First of all, he was a guy— of which, you found insanely attractive.

He was a friend that you made in your Sociology course. You remembered how he randomly approached you one day to ask a question mid-semester about something that he could’ve easily found the answer to if he looked back at the syllabus.

Though, you were happy to help anyone who needed it and answered him nicely. Or maybe it was merely because he was probably the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on that actually approached you, so you didn’t think twice to reply to him—but you would never let anyone know that. He was appreciative, and since then, he decided to cling onto you since you showed him courtesy.

You honestly thought he would’ve forgotten about your presence or only come to you when he needed help, but he actually started sitting with you and even distracting you with mindless but entertaining conversations during lectures.

While you started looking forward to coming into class and now having someone to talk to, your only interest in the class became the charming guy who was energetic and always made you smile from ear to ear. You eventually told Eric that you needed to prioritize your lectures and cut back on the excessive side conversations during class. He decided to take that as an opportunity to ask for your number, so you guys could hangout outside the classroom.

You were shocked that he wanted to be your friend. You didn’t feel as charming or alluring as he was, but he still found interest in you. You guys started hanging out and doing things like studying (or trying to at least) and doing miscellaneous activities at least once a week.

He became your best friend all of a sudden. You were super grateful that he came into your life, but you still felt nervous around him. He was such a good guy. You didn’t want to take your friendship for granted.

Eric was also super outgoing and friendly, while you were more reserved and it was rare for you to make new friends and be spontaneous. Sometimes, you still wonder why he decided to become your friend.

Maybe you felt this way due to your insecurities, or maybe it was because you had this lingering feeling of butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were together. Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Anyways, for whatever the reason, you just tried to be a good friend to the guy. You didn’t want to fuck anything up and so you tried your best to please Eric and not be a burden in any way.

Now, you find yourself looking at your reflection in the mirror of Eric’s guest bathroom. You tug on your favorite oversized Spongebob shirt that you own, pulling it to where it ends just below your bottom. You were getting ready to finally swim, and Eric was already out by the pool waiting while you freshen up and change.

You sighed at your reflection with both of your hands placed against your hips, wondering why the fuck you’re feeling so uneasy.

You actually surprised yourself by deciding to wear a bikini for tonight. You purchased one awhile back just for the heck of it, even if you never mustered up the courage to wear it. The bikini was high-waisted and red with a twist front on the bottoms. The bikini top was also red and a wireless bra. It was actually super comfortable against your skin and red was a striking color, but all you saw in the mirror was your plump stomach screaming at you to be covered, and your cleavage just wasn’t elevated enough to your liking. Your arms were also bothering you, as you could only focus on the excess fat that was noticeable as you moved them. You probably were gonna look like a whale next to Eric and the thought made you uncomfortable mixed with embarrassed.

So that’s why you brought a t-shirt to swim in just incase you chickened out. There’s nothing wrong with having a shirt on in the pool. I mean, it’s normal! Though, you couldn’t help but feel ashamed that you felt like shielding yourself and not letting yourself wear that bikini freely. It was only going to be you two together, so why were you making it so complicated?

“Fucking hell,” you sharply inhaled and let out a heavy sigh. You stared deeply into the mirror one last time, picking at your skin as you had no makeup on. Another thing you felt insecure about. You always had makeup on around Eric, but this time you didn’t for obvious reasons. “Ugh, whatever,” you groaned out before finally leaving the bathroom, fed up with all this negativity you felt towards yourself.

I mean, why did you care so fucking much? You knew deep down that Eric would never judge you. Any normal person wouldn’t think so hard about going for a swim. This is a casual activity, why were you overthinking it?

You walked through Eric’s massive house towards his patio. You already knew the ropes around his house, since this wasn’t your first time here. Though, you had only been here for things like baking brownies on Friday nights and playing Super Mario Party on the Nintendo Switch, not for using the pool.

You reached the glass sliding door that opened the patio and led yourself outside. His patio lights were on, illuminating his backyard so that it wasn’t completely dark out. You spotted Eric sitting on one of the pool chairs, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram reels obnoxiously loud on his phone. He seemed to be passing time while waiting for you before he got into the pool.

“Hey, you.” you made your way over to where he was sitting with a smile on your face.

Eric perked up at the sound of your voice and abandoned his phone, twisting his body towards you. “Finally! I was seriously about to call you to ask what’s taking so long.” Eric mimicked your smile and adjusted his arms to where they were now leaning back behind him.

You felt a flush of heat wave over your body, not due to the humid summer night, but due to Eric’s appearance. His hair has been permed for a while now and you just can’t help but admire how good he looks in curly hair. His dark brown curls complemented his naturally tanned-skin so well. He’s also already shirtless, in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts and a chain adorning his neck. He also had a cute bracelet around his wrist and small hoops that dangled from his ears as they always did. Every detail of him just looked so beautiful to you.

You mentally slap yourself for gawking at your best friend. You scoffed in response, “I don’t doubt that you would’ve.”

He chuckles as he rises from his chair, brows furrowing in confusion as his eyes run down the length of your body. “I thought you were changing into your bathing suit?” he asked curiously.

The tips of your ears go hot as he questions. You stare at him like a deer in headlights, fingers going down to fidget with the tips of your hair.

“Oh yeah, I just didn’t like how it looked at me.” you shyly admitted. You couldn’t lie to Eric over small matters. Even if you were embarrassed, you still felt complied to always be honest when he asks you something. Though, it was hard to have deep conversations with Eric because he was a guy— of which, you possibly have a small crush on. This was all new to you and you were still learning on how to navigate your friendship.

“Why?” he simply asked, staring at you, eyes full of concern. You bit your lip as he looked at you, your body starting to get a little tense.

“I dunno, I just am not used to wearing a swimsuit,” you shrugged. “I actually don’t go swimming often so I’m not used to wearing one. I typically would just wear a shirt like I am now.” You rubbed your left foot against your right ankle as you spoke, starting to feel awkward in having this conversation.

“Oh,” was all Eric said, starting to frown a bit but quickly shook his head and crossed his arms. “You know, I don’t care what you wear as long as it makes you comfortable, but right now, it’s just you and me here,” he subtly smiles. “We’re gonna be in the water having fun and cooling off. I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but you’re safe around me.” Eric reassures you and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

You half smile while looking down at your feet. “I know,” you simply agreed.

You suddenly look up at the feeling of his dominant hand now on your left shoulder, patting it reassuringly. “Y/n, you don’t have to be shy in front of me. We’re good friends, let’s be comfortable with each other, yeah?” His eyes were full of tenderness as you met his gaze. You pouted your lips playfully in attempt to not get sappy at his words.

He was right though. You just want to have fun and you’re letting your insecurities get the best of you. You know Eric isn’t an asshole. He never judges anyone’s appearance and you know he’s a sweetheart.

You nod your head as you take in his words. “Thanks Eric, really.” your face flushed as he shook his head.

“You don’t need to thank me. I know people wear shirts in the pool but when I picked you up earlier, you said you brought a swimsuit, so I figured you wanted to wear it. You don’t have to feel shy.”

He licks his lips and pauses for a moment before continuing, “You always look good.” Eric rubbed the back of his neck and shyly looked to the side as his voice faltered uttering that last part. Your lips parted slightly as you processed that compliment. The corner of your lips then curled upwards and you let out a soft chuckle.

“Okay, I guess you’ve convinced me. It’s just us, right?” you said rhetorically, sighing deeply. I mean, you were mainly going to be in the water anyways, so why trip over this?

Eric smiles seeing you finally deciding to remove your t-shirt, allowing your bikini to be worn properly. You toss the shirt onto the chair he was sitting at, and adjust your bathing suit top’s straps. He timidly looks away as you do, grabbing his phone to connect it to his speaker to play some music while you guys swim.

You start moving towards the pool, ready to finally do what you came here to do and allow yourself to enjoy this time. Eric looks back up at you dancing to the song he put on while making way into the pool, your locks of hair twirling around your back with each step. His gaze then ‘accidentally’ wanders down to your red bottoms, his cheeks flushing once realizing he’s checking you out.

‘Oh wow,’ he thinks to himself as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to tame his thoughts, rubbing his lips against each other. He then hears you call out to him that the water feels good and to come join him.

Eric puts his phone down and looks at you, your form hidden underneath water, splashing and gleaming as your body felt more relaxed now.

“I’m coming!” He shouts before he starts running towards your direction. You start grinning at his words because you have a dirty ass mind, but it immediately falters once you realize he’s gonna cannonball. Your brows knitted as he made way closer, both hands shielding your face and eyes closed once he plunges into the pool, creating splashes of waves in your direction.

“Eric!” you playfully scold him for of course having to jump into the pool like a maniac. You rub your face after the splashes drenched your face and hair, tucking your hair back behind your ears, sucking in a breath. Eric emerges from beneath the water breathing heavily, laughing as he sticks his tongue out, grazing it over the corner of his lip.

“You’re such a guy.” you scoff at him, rolling your eyes. Eric raises a brow and then begins to splash more water your way. “I’m only having fun!” Eric raises both hands from his sides, gesturing to the pool and cheekily smiling at you as he shakes his head gently.

———————————————————————————

You two swam for about an hour. You guys tossed a beach ball for awhile, chatted about old gossip you always brought up when together, and even played mermaids upon your request— to which created plenty of laughter on your part seeing Eric take his role very seriously for awhile.

He then pleaded for you guys to race— which you initially declined, having no interest. He pouted at your disinterest, but started racing anyways. Water splashed all over your face for the nth time as he swam to the opposite end of the pool, leaving you behind sulking and rolling your eyes.

“I’m getting out!” you yelled and lifted yourself out the pool. Eric continued racing himself as you walked away to grab some towels nearby for the both of you. Once he made it to the end, he let out a sigh at your lack of desire to race. He clearly wanted to spend more time together in the water, but you were all tired out.

He sees your figure loosely drying your hair, and makes his way out the pool towards you. You met his gaze and nodded your head towards a towel you laid out for him. He silently thanked you and began drying himself, then wrapping it around his waist.

You ditched the now-damp towel you used for your hair and wrapped a fresh one around your figure, almost like a blanket. You both sat down together on one of the long pool chairs, soaking in the night while letting the air dry you guys some more.

“Do you wanna order some food? I’m really hungry,” Eric turns to look at you, your eyes meeting his at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah, before my stomach starts growling,” you chuckle as Eric smiles.

“Does pizza sound good? The usual, right?” Eric asks even though he’s already looking through his contacts, searching for the number of a local pizza place that has become a regular for you guys.

“Yes, please.” You cuddle into your towel as Eric calls the number, the pizza place answering after two rings.

He began ordering you guy’s usual and you can’t help but stare at him while he talks on the phone. His curly hair is wettish from all the swimming, some of the curls falling past his forehead. Every so often he’d toss his head a little to shake the hanging curls away from his eyes.

You just couldn’t help but admire how fine your best friend was. It was a crime that he walked around looking like a god. The jawline he had could probably leave a cut on your skin if you brushed against it with how defined it was. His side profile was beyond alluring and would make you double take when passing a glance. His beautiful, bronzed skin made him look so godly.

And he even had such a nice body. Eric frequented the gym, and his abs and muscles were definitely proof of that. He was proud of his body, and did his best to keep his prominent muscle’s defined by working on himself consistently. He was dripping with good looks.

Eric ends the call eventually and you’re ripped away from your wandering thoughts, crushing hard over your best friend.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Eric speaks in a playful tone, meeting your gaze after putting his phone down.

You awkwardly begin to laugh, “Just about how hungry I am.” you obviously lie.

Eric cocks his head and shoots you a grin, “You were staring at me, though.”

Your teeth began to tug on your bottom lip, before letting out another nervous laugh as you looked to the side.

“Well, I guess I was just waiting for you to finish ordering,” you replied nonchalantly, making a weak attempt at putting on a poker face even though you’ve already failed.

“You love spending time with me, huh? Can’t get enough of me?” Eric playfully hits your arm with his elbow, causing an ‘ow’ to escape your lips even though it barely hurt.

“Why do you always have to be such a tease?” you wrinkled your nose in question.

“Cause’ I like you,” Eric casually admits like nothing, his eyes having been scanning over your face this whole time since having ended the call.

Your lips parted as you blinked harshly, eventually letting free a forced laugh and your face forms a lopsided grimace.

“Can you be serious right now?” you scratched your head as you looked at Eric.

“I am.” Eric spoke softly, losing the playful tone completely.

He felt like he was gonna explode at his random confession. What you thought was harmless teasing was him actually flirting and him having romantic interest in you. You guys started out as friends but as time went on, he fell for you. After all the conversations and hangouts, he got to know you better and even from the first day, he thought you were such a pretty girl.

Though, he didn’t know when the proper time to confess was or if he even wanted to. You guys have such a solid friendship, and it seemed like you were fine with your stance.

Then again, you were very timid, so you often held back any talk involving feelings— at least with him. You weren’t the type to open up first. He usually had to question you to get an answer out of you— as much as you were willing to say, anyways.

“Like… as friends, right?” Confusion flooded your face as you hadn’t a clue of where he was going with this.

“Yeah, but… what if I said I meant it as more than that?” Eric had this hope-filled look clouding his face. He looked at you anticipating that you felt the same. Even at his random confession, he hopes that you can see how serious he is. That he didn’t just fuck up your friendship by making things weird and that you get the hint that he wants to be more with you.

“Okay— this is not funny. Literally, what are you going on about?” you scoffed and shook your head. You honestly couldn’t believe what he was alluding to. It just can’t be. No way in hell is Eric Sohn admitting that he likes you in that way. No damn way.

“I would never in my fucking life joke about something like this, Y/n. I know this is out of no where— hell, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to tell you because I already appreciate what I have with you,” Eric sucked in a breath before continuing. “But I selfishly want to be more. After all this time together, I just can’t help but want to be able to hold you and call you my girlfriend every time I am around you.”

“I… I honestly think i’ve fallen in love with you.” Eric breathed out and swallowed hard as he looked at your now incredulous expression, his own eyes widening as he realized what he just said. Your mouth’s open in shock as you blinked excessively, trying to blink away at your now moist eyes.

“With me?” you laughed harshly at him and Eric’s lips turned down. “I think you’re mistaken,” your gaze shifted towards your feet as you continued. “You cannot love me in that way. I’m just… not perfect.” You’re in utter disbelief. You were way too insecure for your own good.

Of course you fucking loved him back. You tried to ignore it for so long, your stupid little crush on someone you accepted you couldn’t have because you felt that he was way out of your league and your status remained as just friends. He only saw you as a friend, you thought.

You were you and he was Eric fucking Sohn. He was on the baseball team, athletic, a gym rat, popular, out going, a sweetheart, and hot.

While you in comparison, stayed home most days you had zero obligations, barely had any hobbies, and had like 3 friends.

You felt unloveable because of how insecure you were. You didn’t think someone like you was capable of having romantic feelings reciprocated. You felt unworthy. Eric could easily bag an L.A. model if he wanted to. So why the fuck is he here saying he wants to be with you?

Eric blankly stares at you for a moment. His face has gone pale and he feels his throat getting tight. He’s trying to process what you have said. Where is all this coming from?

“You’re perfect to me.” Eric reaches out for your hand and you get goosebumps at the action. Your eyes shift to where your hand is now in his, his thumb stroking your skin gently.

“Eric…” you barely whisper before removing your hand from his hold, looking away and missing the sadness in his eyes at the loss of contact and rejection.

“You cannot be with someone like me… I mean, look at me and then look at you! You are fucking amazing, Eric,” you finally look at him to gesture your right hand at his figure. “You could have anyone in this world and you’re trying to tell me that you’re in love with me? Have you seen me?”

Tears well up in your eyes as you remove the towel you had draped around you from your body. Your fingers roam around your stomach and you harshly pull at your love handles. “This can’t be what you’re attracted to,” you swallow hard, feeling so vulnerable right now.

You felt ugly. Society has told you that you needed to lose weight to be loved. You needed to be slim or appear a certain way in order for everyone to be kind and pay any mind to you. Not many people bothered to get to know you. Even though Eric has been your friend for a while now, you still find it hard to believe someone as handsome as him wanted to be around someone like you.

No guy ever showed any desire in wanting to be with you romantically or physically, or even as a friend. All your friends with ease had people lining up to be with them and you felt so lonely— so unwanted.

Your whole existence, you’ve always felt unworthy and everyone’s last choice. You felt like something was wrong with you and you’ve sorted accepted it.

Eric sat in silence as he took in your words. He had no idea you felt this deeply about yourself, how you saw yourself in a negative light. He thinks back to when you came out in your shirt and said how you weren’t feeling yourself in your bikini which prompted you to come out covered. You were self conscious. He looked at you with distraught and teary eyes. He was heartbroken to hear you think so lowly of yourself when in his eyes, you were practically Aphrodite mixed with an angel.

“Y/n, I didn’t know you felt this way,” Eric’s eyes softened as you looked down to the concrete, feeling ashamed and embarrassed of yourself right now.

“I’m sorry if anyone has ever made you feel unworthy or uncomfortable to live as yourself. I’m sorry that you cannot see the beauty in yourself,” Eric choked out.

“But I promise you, that you are so beyond beautiful inside and out,” he licked his lips and shook his head. “You don’t understand how beautiful you are. How much I enjoy spending time with you. Why do you think I insist we hangout at least once a week?”

Eric lets out a chuckle which prompts you to look up at him. “After every hangout, or even after every class we had together, I was already longing for the next time we’d see each other. I’ve been desperate for you… you consume my thoughts, Y/n.”

Your face turns crimson as he says all this to you, processing his every word. It did begin to make sense. He’s the one who asked for your number first. He always invites you over to his home. He actually seems to care about you. You chew on your lip at the realization. You were so caught up in your own self consciousness.

You never have imagined that someone could love you in this way in reality.

Eric notices you begin to soften up a bit and his lips curl upwards, “I like that you can handle my silly antics and loudness, and always laugh instead of seriously being annoyed. I like that you have such a kind heart, and are always willing to make time for others— even if that means sacrificing your own obligations and time.” Eric looked at you in adoration, like a puppy in love. You have to admit, your heart swells at his words, and it brings a slight smile to your face.

“Oh come on, you’re so cheesy.” you playfully slap Eric’s hand as you sniffle.

He bites his lower lip and rubs his chin before continuing, “I also like when you have your hair up in a ponytail and leave two strands out on either side. I don’t see you with your hair up often, so I get excited when you do have it up.” You grab a piece of your hair and begin to play with it, face flushed as he keeps going.

“And,” he pauses for a brief moment, blushing as he whispers the next part. “I like it when I see you and I can tell you’re not wearing a bra.”

You drop the strand of hair and look at him with wide eyes, face full of sudden shock. Are you hearing correctly?

“Your nipples are always so hard, baby,” he chuckles as his gaze moves towards your chest.

“Even now, I can see them poking through,” he nods his head at your breasts. You look down and move your hands onto your chest, feeling your nipples through the top. You glance back up at Eric, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

“Was that cheesy, too?” he questions, tilting his head to the side, shit eating grin smothering his face.

“Eric!” you scold the boy and mischievously hit his arm for suddenly admitting he stares at your breasts often. Though, your thighs instinctively press together at his lewd words, face still crimson.

Your best friend has admitted all these things to you. He sees you the way you see him, and it all feels like a hallucination. You usually feel so insecure, but he sees you like gold. You’re nothing but stunned right now.

Eric laughs as he wraps an arm around you, making you shiver at the sudden contact.

His hand reaches over your shoulder, accidentally brushing over close to your breast, resulting in you jolting at the sudden action as you felt sensitive to the touch.

Eric immediately removes his hand and leans back. “Shit, sorry!” he doesn’t hesitate to say. He’s embarrassed at his attempt in being smooth. He doesn’t want to scare you off.

“It’s fine,” you shyly speak. You have to admit, you were getting a bit turned on. After him showering you in compliments and confessions, you were now slowly accepting that he actually does want you in the same way you’ve fantasized over him.

Not only does he seem to like you for your personality, but also physically.

“No it’s not. I don’t know why I thought touching you like that without permission was okay. You’re still vulnerable,” Eric feels guilty and moves his eyes to look away from you in embarrassment. You haven’t even responded on whether or not you accept his feelings. I mean, you seem fine now.

Of course your insecurities won’t disappear overnight, but you looked more relaxed. He just hopes you don’t feel the need to shy away from him anymore.

“Eric…” you softly speak. He looks up at you curiously, humming as your eyes are already on him, looking at him softheartedly.

“I love you, too.” you murmur tenderly.

Eric’s heart suddenly starts beating fast. He adjusts his posture and a smile creeps up to his face as he registers your words for a moment.

“Are you serious?” he looks at you excitedly with flashing eyes.

“One thousand percent,” you gain the confidence to reach over to run your thumb along his cheek, taking your time to caress him. Eric feels the hair on his skin begin to stand up as you touch him intimately. His eyes shut as you take in his face, feeling it for the first time.

You smile at how cute he looks, softening under just the touch of your thumb.

“I’ll be yours if you’ll have me.” Eric states, his eyes opening to look at your own glistening ones. His face leans into your touch, feeling so good that you’re finally embracing him like this.

“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend,” you look up at him lovingly.

His heart swells at this moment. The moment he’s been longing for, where he can finally call you his.

Eric is going to make sure you feel loved every second of the day from now on.

He removes your hand from his face and holds it gently within his own. With his other hand, it is now his turn to stroke your face with his warm palm. You swallow as you feel yourself melting like ice at his hot touch.

Eric is so close to you, yet so far. You have him now, so that means you can do all the things you’ve longed for with him.

“I want you to k— kiss me,” you suddenly blurt out, gaining trust to do so.

Eric pauses his delicate stroke’s against your cheek, and looks at you in surprise.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” you shyly admitted. You fluttered your eyelashes at him and stared at him pleadingly. “Please teach me, Eric.”

Eric swears he feels his dick twitch at your eagerness. With a simple sentence, his brain feels like it’s on fire. Oh how he’s longed to kiss your pink lips for what seems like forever.

Your innocence is cute, he thinks. How you’re willing to open up to him like this. How you are allowing yourself to let him love you in this way.

“You’re so precious,” Eric breathes out as he begins caressing your cheek again. You look at his eyes that carry a sense of longing as he scans your face, soaking up your features.

“We can take it slow,” Eric murmurs and you nod.

Eric’s thumb moves to your bottom lip, tracing the lines and feeling how plump it is. Your palms began to sweat in anticipation, and your heart rate increases at the build up.

Your eyes are open still, watching him curiously as he grazes his thumb over your lower lip gently, which makes his own heart flood in an ocean of warmth.

Eric’s thumb drops and his dominant hand moves to gently cup your jaw. His other hand pulls you closer against his chest, hand now resting on your side. You slightly shiver at his touch, fingers dancing over your love handles.

“You can touch me too, baby,” Eric nods at you, seeing you’re a bit tense and don’t really know what to do even though you so desperately want to feel his lips on yours already.

You hesitantly place your hand over his chest, rubbing the area carefully. Your fingers graze over his nipple and his eyes immediately shut at the feeling. He inhales sharply at your movements, and you can’t help but chuckle seeing him affected like this just by your touch.

Your other hand rests on the back of his neck along the nape, beginning to tangle your fingers in his curls and it feels like home for the both of you.

You don’t know what to do next, so you just continue combing through his hair. Though, you finally close your eyes, signaling to him that you’re ready for a kiss.

Eric’s lips curl upwards at how cute this is— you waiting for him to take the lead. He finds you very endearing like this.

He caresses your side as he slowly pulls your jaw close. Your lips separate faintly while he does so, awaiting for your lips to meet.

His eyes shut as he captures your bottom lip within his lips. He tilts your head ever so slightly so that you don’t bump noses, and your fingers messily fidget with the nape of his neck as he gently sucked your balmy lip.

Eric’s lips against yours feels electric. You allow him to guide you and you slowly get the hang of it, you soon after kissing him back. The kiss feels so magical. The feeling of his lips against yours sends sparks all throughout your body. You feel as with every movement his lips make against yours, you’re bound to explode like a firework at the passionate sensation.

You lose yourself in his lips, his hands soothing your body in the process, and nothing else matters except for Eric Sohn kissing you.

He pulls back for a moment, and you both stare at each other in awe at what you’ve shared. Eric suddenly lifts his rear off the chair for a bit, removing the towel he had wrapped around his waist and tosses it on the ground. He then decides to pull you over his lap, seating you on top of him with your legs wrapped around him. Your mouth opens agape at the action, your hands moving to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“Am I not too heavy for this?” you cringe, feeling like you can’t even be in this position for a second before it gets uncomfortable for Eric’s hold.

“Nonsense— you fit perfectly, baby,” Eric says. He spreads his legs a bit to make it more comfortable for you.

His hand rests on your back, fingers rubbing it soothly. His fingers trace the valleys of your stretch marks that decorate your lower back, and he smiles at the feeling of your skin.

“S’ gorgeous.” he murmurs, your cheeks heat up in response. Eric’s lips lean in to press against your pink cheeks, leaving tender, wet kisses all over your face. “You’re such a pretty girl.” he announces as you giggle at his affection towards you.

You crave for his lips on you again, so you take the risk of moving to glide your tongue over his bottom lip, begging to be invited in his mouth for seconds. A groan of satisfaction vibrates through Eric’s chest and he lets you in. Your tongues greet each other as your lips enveloped. A moan escapes your throat at feeling the wetness of his tongue against your own. You’ve suddenly lost your inhibitions after hearing all of Eric’s praises and tasting his pillowy lips. This kiss was sensual, becoming all hot and breathy in desire for one another.

Eric’s teeth gently graze over your bottom lip and you can’t help but move your body from the pleasure, resulting in you grinding down on Eric’s lap.

You pull back for a breath and your heart misses a beat as you feel something hard press against the fabric of your bottoms. You gasp at the foreign feeling.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Eric breathes out and goes to pet your hair. “We can stop if you want, just tell me,” Eric says, face turning red.

One of your hands moves to fiddle around his neck, admiring the chain that rested against his collarbones. You bat your eyelashes as you rub yourself against Eric’s crotch again, eliciting a deep groan out of him, his eyes drawn shut from your actions. You bite your lip at the stimulation it brought to your core. There’s a strange feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. This was all new to you, so it was very thrilling.

You lean over his neck and tenderly begin peppering kisses all over, his hips bucking up at the feeling of your mouth on his sweet spot.

“Mhm,” you whimper at the friction of his bulge against your core, which captivates Eric. The sound of your pretty moans and the way your body responds to him has blood rushing straight to his cock.

“What are you doing, princess?” Eric gently pulls you back from his neck, looking at your desperate eyes with his own, wetting his lips with his tongue.

You continue to rub your core against his crotch as he introduces that nickname. Your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers get lost in his curls once again.

“You like when I call you that, huh?” Eric nods his head at you, smirk prevalent on his face.

You whine at his teasing, hiding your face in his neck. “Eric…” you announce.

“Hm?” he hums, rubbing your back soothingly.

You pull back from his neck to look at him. He presses his lips together as you bashfully look at him. Your lips part in wanting to say something, but you hesitate in doing so, moving your gaze away from his own.

“What is it, baby?” Eric coos as he cups your jaw. “You can tell me,” he encourages you since you’ve suddenly gone shy.

“I— I want to taste you, Eric.” you practically whisper to him.

He chuckles, “You want more kisses?”

He sees you cutely furrow your brows with lips slightly pouted, gently shaking your head. “I don’t mean like that. I mean like… let me help you out,” with heavy lidded eyes, you gesture towards his manhood.

Eric’s lips gape slightly as it registers what you’re saying. He cannot believe what he’s hearing. You have no experience and yet you’re beyond eager. You’re so needy for him and it is fucking turning him on. He could probably cum right now in his swim shorts just from the kissing and grinding.

But, he doesn’t want you to rush into things so suddenly in the heat of the moment. He wants your first’s to be perfect. Even if you guys knew inside that you trust one another, he still wants to be sure.

“Y/n, let me take you on a date first at least, hm?” Eric rubs your thigh gingerly. “I don’t want you to do anything just because i’m hard right now. We can wait until you’re ready,” Eric softly smiles.

You’re still pouting, and let out a huff of frustration at his words. “I just want to taste it.” you whine out while your hips rut down into his, which draws a moan out of Eric, his fingers pressing deeply into your thigh in response. You sigh at the feeling.

“I’ve dreamed about giving you head since I met you,” you confess as you continue, drunk off the feeling of his cock through the thin pieces of fabric. “I promise I want to, Eric. It’s all I want to do tonight. We don’t have to go further than that— it’s what i’m comfortable with for now. We can save all the other stuff for another time. But right now, I just wanna please you if you’ll let me,” you babble, giving him pleading eyes and he see’s how bad you want it.

He wonders what happened to you being coy not that long ago— not that he’s complaining or anything, but you’re now feening over him. This feels like a dream. You wanted to please him so bad and he just could never say no to you, not in a million years.

He would be a fool to turn you down.

He lets out a deep sigh and tsks, his hands snaking around to grip your hips to keep you steady. “Okay, princess. I’d hate to ever say no to you,” Eric goes to chase your lips, sealing the deal. The kiss has you mewling into his mouth and he gulps hard at your noise.

You pull back from his lips and go to leave a tender kiss on the corner before he helps you get off his lap. You stand up as he stays seated, curiously watching your movements. You crouch down and your hands are on the towel Eric tossed earlier, starting to spread it neatly on the ground so your knees can rest over it.

“Here?” Eric questions as you get on your knees and your eyes lock. He bites back a groan as he has to now look down to meet your eyes, seeing you on the ground all submissive on your knees with your cleavage perfectly on display. It has him screaming internally.

“Yeah,” you say as you begin to stroke Eric’s knee. “I’m too impatient to go inside.”

Eric laughs and bends forward to press a kiss on your forehead, your nose scrunching cutely as his lips make contact against your skin. His hands then goes to cup your cheeks. “I’ll be as gentle as possible and guide you if you need it. Just tap my thighs or tell me if you want to stop. Okay, baby?”

“Okay,” you say and nod your head. Eric’s lips give you one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, and he lets you go.

You swallow hard, mentally questioning yourself on how you want to go about this. Eric watches you, smirking as he can practically see the wheels turn on your head. He’ll guide you, but only if he see’s you struggling or if you ask for it. He wants to see what you can do, since you seem to be so eager for his cock.

You begin by inching a bit closer to his crotch, just between his knees. Your hands move to touch his abdomen, running your fingers along the defined lines of his abs. Your lips pucker up as you press hot kisses along his stomach, appreciating how beautiful Eric’s build was. Eric’s dominant hand goes to rest in your locks, massaging your scalp as you kiss his tummy.

“You like my body, baby?” a smug look is present on Eric’s face as he says so.

“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out shamelessly, pausing when you’ve gotten closer to the skin just below his belly button.

You soon remove yourself and he lets his hand fall while your hands move to the waistband of his swim shorts. You play with the fabric a bit in nervousness, still figuring out how you’re going to approach this sensual act and wondering if Eric will be satisfied with your performance.

You finally tug his shorts down and fully off. His cock then immediately flops up against his abdomen, slapping the skin.

You gasp at first sight of his cock. It’s pretty lengthy and fat, erect with precum residing on his tip. You gulped as Eric’s right hand moves over to his shaft, beginning to stroke himself as he nibbles on his bottom lip. With pursed lips you look at him, feeling tingly and flushed all over as he makes eye contact with you while he touches himself.

“You wanna touch it?” Eric raises a brow as he slicks his cock in his wetness. You’re salivating at the sight of his naked form playing with himself. He looks so pretty on display like this for you.

He lets go of himself and you finally start to test the waters, hesitantly grabbing the base of his cock and stroking the skin. Eric hisses once he feels your small hand over his base. “Fuck, baby.”

You bite back a smile at his reaction and you start to give the tip kitten licks while rubbing the underside of his cock with your thumb. The taste of his precum lands on your tongue, causing Eric to purr in pleasure.

“Starting off as such a tease.” he mumbles while his legs instinctively spread to give you more room and his left arm goes behind the back of his neck and head, giving you a perfect view of the little sailboat and paw print tattoos that decorate his bicep. So fucking hot, you think to yourself.

You experimentally press your tongue along the underside of his cock, gliding it over a vein all the way up towards his tip, then deciding to take the head of it in your mouth.

A hearty groan rips from Eric’s throat as he feels all these sensations, and you begin to bob your head over a bit of his length, your hand jerking off the rest of his shaft.

“Breathe through your nose, baby, and hollow your cheeks,” he advises you between breathy moans.

You slowly challenge yourself to go deeper, coating his cock with your saliva. Eric is entranced by the slurping sounds that start to escape your lips and becomes drunk off the feeling of your warm mouth encompassing his cock.

His eyes shut while his hips can’t help but buck into your mouth at the feeling. You choke at the sudden movement, removing your mouth and gasping for air, sobbing out a moan as his length pops out your mouth.

“Fuck, princess. Mhm— sorry, can’t help myself,” Eric chuckles, licking his lips as his hand falls into your hair, caressing it gently and keeps it from falling around your face.

Your eyes meet and you hold contact, both of your eyes each going dark with lust while you take him in your mouth again, your left hand running up and down on what you can’t fit while your right decides to rest on his balls, beginning to massage and fondle them.

“That’s it, baby! What a good girl, playing with my balls without being asked, hmm— you’re an angel.”

Eric praises you and your moans vibrate around his length in response. Your sucking starts to become more enthusiastic at his praises. You remember to curl your lips over your top teeth so they don’t touch him when you start to feel confident to take him deeper.

Eric’s gaze is fixated down on you as you bob your head, being such a brave girl and taking as much of him as you can. Your head rotates from side to side while sucking him, and your right hand is still rubbing circles along his balls, groping them and loving how heavy they feel in your hold.

Eric can’t help but grip your hair a bit tight as your mouth is driving his body insane. You gag around him as you take a bit more than you’re able and he carefully pulls you off. You cry out as you breathe in the fresh air, a string of saliva still connecting your lips with his cock. Eric growls seeing his cock coated in your saliva and his precum, and then moves his vision towards your mouth, your own spit now raining down your chin.

You inhale sharply as you give your mouth a short break and your right hand starts to jerk him off, feeling the wetness of his shaft glaze your hand.

“You’re s’ so big, Eric,” you whine and your lips stay parted, running your tongue along the inside of your mouth. “Jaw is starting to hurt.” you whimper as you look up and flutter your lashes at him, throwing your head back, thighs squeezed together as you tighten your hold around his cock.

“Just a little longer, baby. Getting close,” Eric coos and guides your lips back to his cock again. You run his tip all over your lips like a lipstick, humming in satisfaction at the wetness. You want nothing more than to drown in his essence.

Although your jaw is growing tired, you’re desperate to make him cum. You force your mouth to open wider and bob up and down as far as you can, sucking more of him as much as your mouth can handle.

The suction and slurping noises start to become more frequent from you as you pick up the pace. Eric’s breathing becomes more ragged at your rhythms and pretty sounds.

“Mhm, fuck! Getting close princess— where do you want my cum?” his brows furrow as he peers down at you, tears beginning to form in your eyes when you bring his head far back enough to trigger your gag reflex.

You start to get sloppy with your movements and meet his gaze with your own pleading eyes as he attempts to pull you back by your hair, though, your left hand finds purchase on his base and your right hand’s fingers dig deep onto the skin of his leg.

He laughs in seeing you not having any desire to come off him, “So this is what you meant when you said you were hungry earlier, hm? Can’t believe my pretty, perfect girl wants me to cum in her mouth for her first time. So fucking hot.” Eric’s cock twitches and balls tighten up once he’s approaching his release, brows knitting together and mouth agape, beginning to whimper in overstimulation.

“Mhm— Eric!” you muffle around his cock while your pussy throbs from listening to his pretty sounds leaving his lips as a result of you and from his fat length twitching in your mouth.

You continue to suck and jack off sloppily what you can’t fit, and before you know it, his hot, creamy load coats your tongue and paints your mouth white.

Eric’s head is thrown back, abs and jaw clenching as his release creates spasms throughout his entire body, sighing your name over and over weakly like a mantra.

His cum feels hot, thick, and sticky in your mouth. His release tastes slightly sweet, and you swirl and swish it around your mouth before swallowing as much as you can.

Your eyes are heavy lidded as you gently suck the head of his cock like a lollipop in attempt to drink up every last drop of his cum. You bring your lips to the tip and kiss it a few times, rubbing his balls tenderly to soothe him.

“Atta’ girl. Good fucking girl.” Eric praises you, groaning with a raspy voice.

You huff out a breath as you remove yourself entirely from his length. Wetness from tears decorates your eyelashes and stains your cheeks, vision somewhat blurred from all the work you put on his cock. Drool mixed with Eric’s cum is dripping down your lips and chin, and you continue to let spit fall, your mouth open with eyes closed as you try to calm yourself.

Looking at you, Eric feels numb in the head seeing you all fucked in the face from his cock. What a gorgeous sight.

After a few seconds, you both slowly start to calm down your uneven breathing. Your hand goes to wipe off whatever is left on your face, but not before Eric tuts at you and carefully hoists you up against him, his lips attaching against your own in a beat of his heart. Both of your lips move hungrily in sync and you moan into the kiss.

“You did so well, princess. You were such a good girl for me. The most perfect girl, and all mine.” he growls in between kisses as he tastes your saliva mixed with his own cum, and places you on his lap. Your hands go to wrap around his neck and one of his hands smooths over the fat of your middle, massaging it lovingly while his other hand rests on your neck. You shift a bit as he does so, gasping once you become aware of how damp and creamy your bottoms are. Eric seems to feel your wetness over his dick, grinning as the tip of your ears turn red and your cheeks flush pink in embarrassment.

“Aw, my pretty girl is all soaked ‘cause of me?” his hand goes to play with the flesh of your ass and you whine at his words. He kisses your cheeks sweetly and nuzzles his nose against your own. His heart feels so full to be so close to you like this. To have you in his arms and sharing intimate moments is a dream come true. You feel the same as he embraces you and is so gentle to you, feeling so loved by your best friend turned boyfriend.

“Can’t wait to take you on a date and treat you like the princess you are,” he whispers. “Then, when you’re ready, i’ll be sure to make you cum as hard as you made me. Sound’s good, baby?” Eric murmurs and you grab a hold of his chin, ready to plant another kiss on his lips before the sound of a ring causes you both to jolt up.

Eric groans, eyes rolling back in annoyance as he twists his head to see that it’s his phone ringing. You press a quick kiss to his jawline as he answers it, massaging his scalp while he talks on the phone.

“Hello… Oh, you’re here?— I’ll be right out!… Sorry to keep you waiting… Okay thanks, bye!”

“Shit, the pizza’s here.” Your eyes go wide as you register the call and his words and you quickly get off Eric. He rushes to put on his swim shorts and immediately bolts inside to get the food at the front door, leaving you outside by yourself.

You laugh at how fast he scurries off and then you sigh at the feeling of you bottoms sticking to your core within all the wetness. “I hope he lets me borrow a pair of boxers or something,” you say out loud to yourself as you make your way inside, ready to dig into some real food.

As much as Eric’s meat filled your mouth up nicely, you could use a couple slices of pizza to now fill up your empty stomach.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

#ericscroptop #eric sohn #the boyz #the boyz eric #the boyz imagines #the boyz x reader #the boyz smut #the boyz fluff #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn smut #eric sohn scenarios #eric sohn imagines #tbz eric #tbz x reader #chubby reader #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop smut

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anisdolly · 3 months

Text

・。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ quiet now, will you?

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀STRICTLY 18+.

WARNINGS: bratfem!reader x dom!modernau!anakin, dirty talking, teasing, clit play, he likes to command just a bit too much.

summary: anakin is taking you home after picking you up from your shift, and of course he is hungry as fuck. just...you're feeling bratty.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

“h-hey!” you lament, hands quickly folding together to push the fabric of your sweater between your legs. the little fist they created stays there, pressed right between a drenched cunt, his hand and your thighs—a vain, and rather pathetic, attempt to stop your boyfriend from getting what he was craving. “h-hand away!”

it had been already a long day at work—your boss making you run from one office to the other just because her spoiled daughter wanted to read a book that wasn’t even fucking released yet. last thing you need, was anakin all over your pussy, and his car’s seat dirty. maybe you should’ve thought twice before shoving yourself into more comfortable clothes—a thick sweater that worked more as a short, barely covering dress—and keep your tailleur instead.

anakin just watches you squirm and use your only cloth as a barrier, his blue eyes gleaming with wicked delight before a low chuckle escapes his lips. his hand, determined in feeling more, comes to rest atop the hoodie mound you just created after abruptly pushing yours away, pressing down against the fabric just enough to feel the warmth and dampness underneath.

"'hand away'…" he teases mockingly, his voice resonating with that deep sound that is exclusively his. "think you got the power to make demands, princess? after i haven’t seen you for an entire day?" a playful, yet starved edge lines his words with a smirk. his fingers begin to move in a slow, deliberate circle over the hoodie, not enough to touch directly, but the implication is there—a reminder of the control he holds over your pretty body.

it gets you writhing and panting instantly, and as you wrap your hand around his wrist to try and move him away, the pressure only gets more insistent. so much, that what sounds like a tiny moan flips out of your mouth. you really thought you had the strength to push him away? tsk.

“a-ani…c-c’mon…” you cry, but your hips were betraying you by basically humping against his hand.

he simply scoffs at your pitiful wail, enjoying the friction of your core over his digits. “never this drenched. not even when i cum all over it.”

the car's engine hums and thrums to life as anakin lets his hand linger over your hidden cunt, driving you insane with the need for more in only seconds. yet, he never really gives you what you need. you were always so fucking perfect with your innocent blush and eager body—he loves how you respond to him so quickly, despite your best efforts. even if, at times, he has to push you a bit more. but it’s alright, because your pussy always spoke louder than your useless words.

anakin’s other hand grips the shifter, his knuckles white as he pulls it into reverse, his gaze finally breaking away from you to check the mirrors. his actions dual; driving the car while driving you mad, and it was an easy combination to him. probably it became a skill after all the other times he fingered you in that passenger seat, making you cum more than one time in less than six miles.

and even as he pulls out of the parking spot, he keeps his eyes on the task while his body did not—his driving smooth and practiced, while his fingers softly toy with you.

"quiet now, angel." he murmurs, licking his lips in what seems a concentrated—yet unbothered—expression. “don’t wanna be pulled over by cops while i milk my fingers, right?”

the car backs out from the parking lot and, as he finds the way to the road home, the vibrations of the moving vehicle add an entirely new layer to the torture you are already being put under. your doe eyes look like more interested in the movements of his fingertips rather than the road ahead, and your hole clutches around nothing.

and then, anakin found your clit even through all those layers of fabric, pushing a full-on moan out of your lungs. how the hell does he manage that? every fucking time?

“b-babe…please—” you grit out while your body heat increases more and more, and your soaked panties practically damp the sweater too.

"hey. told ya, quiet.” anakin commands again, this time way sterner than before. “if you can stay silent and good, maybe—maybe—you’ll get the reward you’re dripping for. but make even a little noise, and i’ll leave you wantin’ and aching all the damn way back."

his hand presses a little harder before pulling away completely, making you tremble at the loss, before it reaches for the gear shift to help drive on the dark street. "so…let’s see how good my little princess can really be, hm?"

your lover could feel the stickiness on his fingertips, highlighting his hunger. god, he could still taste the sweetness of your pussy from the previous night, and the scent of your arousal is the car made his pupils dilate. but there’s nothing more easy for anakin than to have self control when it comes to teasing you. so he stays in his seat, driving carelessly, as if his index and middle didn’t just turn you into a heated whore.

but tonight, you are having none of it. who does he think he is? making fun of you like that? after you had one of the most stressful days of the week at work, and even told him? hell the fuck no. just like he started, he was gonna make you finish.

“mmhm! no!” you huff out, your hands clutching the excessively long sleeves of your sweater before smacking right onto your thighs in frustration. “p-put it back there!” the pout on your face mixes with what seems a frown—this was a stance that you never dared to take before, but that now came automatically at his carefree demeanor and actions.

“now.”

whiny brat.

at your defiance, anakin’s sharp jaw clenches tightly and almost immediately. a surge of possessiveness tightens around his heart like a vice, the call to put you back in your damn place taking over any restraint he had been putting onto his own emotions. that sudden insistence in your voice makes him laugh dryly, simply not to reach out and pull your hair like you fucking deserved.

"ahhh, what did i say about zipping it?" his voice is a lethal purr, and his eyes, blue like shards of ice, caught yours in the review mirror. "seems someone’s already beggin’ for punishment." and as he continues to navigate the deserted streets, the silence of the night around you feels almost like an accomplice to whatever was about to happen inside that poor range rover.

but still, you don’t relent, staring right back into his eyes as your lids turn into two thin lines. “i’m not.” you respond, fists tightening even more with rage.

anakin drums his fingers on the steering wheel, the rhythmic tapping sending a message of impatience as he considers your outburst with a sickening silence. with a quick glance to ensure the road is empty, he slows the car, almost to a crawl. the sudden braking gets you to jerk forward, but thankfully the seatbelt prevents you from hitting your head. it makes you yelp, though, and your eyes squeeze.

"you want it there, right? is that how you ask for something, you snappy brat?” he almost barks at you, noticing how your expression is a mixture of defiance and surprise before snapping his eyes fully back towards the road.

and then, anakin reaches over with a masterful slowness, allowing the back of his knuckles to graze across the swell of your breast through the sweater, then down your stomach, before hovering just millimeters away from your needy, aching pussy. “touch this?” the scent emanating from there is still so strong, the window couldn't air it out.

“y-yeah…” you gulp, following the path of his hand with your trembling eyes, while thinking that your little tantrum did the thing. but the next words he speaks get that smug and aroused expression off of your face just as quickly as it came.

"want me to touch your pathetic cunt? funny. you break the rules, sweet girl, you get nothin'." his voice is firm yet threaded with a dark desire. "you keep being this disobedient...hmmph, i might just have to spank that pretty ass of yours until you remember who's in charge here.” then, just as abruptly, he shifts his hand away, up to the damn shift again.

now, you think twice before humming a lament. last time he slapped your ass, you were barely able to sit.

"but if you’re good—and i mean real good—you’ll get what's coming to you. i’ll fuck your worthless hole until you're screamin', breed you until you can't think...all those dirty things you like."

“i-i’m not being—” but you don’t even manage to finish your phrase as anakin makes a hard turn, taking the rover to a more secluded area—a field just by the street, apparently empty. your nails claw at each side of your seat, trying to keep you steady, and that belt helps you once again.

he told you to be fucking quiet, why you still speaking?

the headlights illuminated the open space as he pulls over, then switches off the engine, and turns in his seat to face you properly. "fucking crybaby." anakin sneered, glaring your startled body up and down. "listen up. you've got one chance to show me how good you can be for daddy. are you gonna take it, or do i have to remind you just how hard i can make that little pussy beg for me?"

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #star wars #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin imagine #anakin #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #anakin x you #star wars anakin #anakin x y/n #anakin x reader #anakin x fem reader #anakin x oc #anakin skywalker x female reader #fanfic #anakin skywalker smut

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yandere-daydreams · 8 months

Note

Idk if Sex doll!au Alhaitham has been discussed yet…(honestly it probably has been, but it was likely during the times when I wasn’t keeping up to date with this blog. Tumblr’s shitty search function doesn’t help with finding out either.)

Anyway, I’d like to share my thoughts about it, if that’s okay.

-I think sex doll! Alhaitham would mostly be for professional and academic purposes. He’s not reccomended for younger grades, mostly just colleges.

-His general purposes are office/administrative related. Especially since he’s a “scribe”, he’s especially good at file management and documentation. I don’t think it be uncommon to see him assisting librarians alongside a Lisa model…or maybe helping archeologists/museums workers catalogue info about artifacts.

-I think his way of not doing anything more than what his job asks of him would stay even as an Android. I know that as a product, he’d probably wouldn’t be given leeway or time off like that; but the thought of someone trying to assign tasks to Alhaitham that are outside his designated role being ignored by him is funny to me.

-if Alhaitham is acting as a companion doll in someone’s home, I can only imagine that he’s incredibly annoying. Alhaitham normally chooses to ignore social etiquette, and as an android it has to be even worse.

tw - unhealthy relationships, slight infantilization, slight stalking.

i think he'd absolutely be marketed toward researchers as a sort of lab assistant who acts like you're the lab assistant, if that makes sense. he specializes in archival work and bureaucracy, but he's a bit of a jack-of-all-trades and it's not uncommon to see him alongside more outdoorsy androids like cyno and albedo when you're out doing fieldwork. he's also especially loved by students for his,,, strict attitude toward studying. you wouldn't think the ability to say 'i'm not touching your dick until you finish your thesis' would be such a popular feature in a literal sex doll, but, y'know, what does it for you does it for you, i guess.

you're not a student, though, or a researcher - just a librarian for a big enough branch to warrant writing off a helper android as a business expense. you probably could've gotten away with bringing on lisa or nahida, but you were able to find a second-hand alhaitham for a price you couldn't turn up and figured dealing with the occasional comment on your organization skills or catalog maintenance was better than wasting an extra thousand dollars on a robot that'll be reading to children twice a week. he works well enough, too, even if it does take a few days for him to get used to the idea that you won't be using him for his, uh, intended purposes. it just doesn't feel right, considering he's basically one of your employees - something he's surprisingly indifferent about, considering how judgemental he's rumored to be about, well, everything.

you do take him home at night, though, since the alternative is leaving him in a dark building alone all night and trying to live with the guilt. he's a polite enough houseguest, even if does occasionally let out a disapproving huff at your admittedly less-than-steller diet, but he does have a few... bugs, you guess, for lack of something better to call his little lapses in decorum. he's overstepped his boundaries a few times - taking pens and reports out of your hands because you 'have a tendency to mess these things up', checking on you in the middle of the night when he's supposed to be charging - but he'll never indulge your attempts to confront him, just clicking his tongue and shaking his eyes. sometimes, he brings up your stress levels, mentions off-handedly that orgasms are known to reduce overall tension, but denies that he's done anything wrong when you ask him to change his behavior. he's good at that - justifying himself, bending his protocols until he can get away with practically anything. you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little worried, knowing the awful rumors that spread about second-hand andriods, about how demeaning alhaitham can be when he's supposed to be little more than a platonic assistant.

you'd be lying if you said you weren't a little worried that, one day, he'd find a way to justify disregarding your autonomy altogether.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere alhaitham #yandere genshin impact

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toournextadventure · 5 months

Text

everyone but her pt.37

Summary: Wednesday knows, without a doubt, that you weren't the suspect everyone thought you were. And your date nights were getting rather interesting, but she's not entirely convinced about this new date idea.

Word Count: 4.8k Warnings: swearing, grief, past trauma, child abuse (in the past) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist)

“Don’t even think about it.”

Wednesday sighed and pulled her hand back from the bag you were refusing to let her carry. Unfortunately, it wasn’t because you were being chivalrous. It was the second week after your therapist had gone missing, and you were still upset with her. She didn’t like it.

“I have already apologised,” she said as she walked behind you. “What more do you want from me?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said in a faux sing-song voice that she had heard you use with Ash before. “Maybe to have my girlfriend not assume I’m stupid enough to kill my therapist?”

“No one has claimed you were stupid,” she said.

“And yet no one has agreed that I wouldn’t kill my therapist,” you finished a little too quickly.

She followed behind you, trying to open the door but you wouldn’t move aside for her. Instead, you turned the doorknob with your elbow after more than a few failed attempts and entered the apartment. At least Wednesday had the opportunity to close the door behind you both.

“No one believes you killed him,” she said as she tried to help you put up groceries. All it took was one look before she stepped back. If you were determined to be so stubborn, then she was determined to let you.

“Oh yeah?” You said; you practically threw the apples into the fruit drawer. “Because Bianca didn’t seem too disbelieving of it.”

“Bianca is ignorant,” she said quickly. “Additionally, she never claimed it was you, simply questioned your whereabouts.”

You threw the milk into the fridge next; Wednesday would need to make sure you didn’t bust the container. “Which I specifically told you before I left the apartment.”

Wednesday wasn’t foolish. Even though she truly felt you were being absurd, she was not foolish enough to continue the argument when you became so agitated. When you placed your hands on your hips and furrowed your brows. She would never claim to be an expert at reading physical cues, but she certainly knew yours. Or at the very least, she knew yours well enough.

“Anger metre?” She asked.

“Immeasurable.” You sighed and looked down at the floor. “An 8.”

Your hands fell from your hips rather pathetically. It was a look Wednesday hadn’t seen since those years at Nevermore. Back when you were a little too nervous to talk to her like you did now. She remembered it vividly; every time you would try to talk back, she would shut you down, and you would stand there awkwardly like a scolded puppy before walking off.

It almost warmed her cold heart to see you hadn’t grown out of it.

“Am I really that untrustworthy?” You asked; your voice was soft. Horrifically so. “Do people really think I would kill someone?”

Wednesday wasn’t prepared for an emotional conversation. She had been attempting to get you to relax about the accusations, but she hadn’t mentally prepared herself for what could come of it. A foolish thing, she knew; you were becoming more open about your feelings when they upset you so terribly. It was something she had encouraged in you even though she had never truly thought to grow with you in that regard.

There was no better time than the present, she presumed.

“Can we-,” she sighed, blinking twice before looking back at you, “-can we continue this in the living room?”

You raised a brow and tilted your head.

“You’re letting all the cold air out,” she said.

You frowned before your eyes slowly grew larger. It only took a moment before you shut the door to the fridge, stopping the incessant warning beep that came more often than not when you were in the kitchen. She thought back to when it had started; she had lied to you about the electric bill staying steady after you had panicked. Clearly you took bills more seriously than she had previously thought.

After hearing that it was okay, you hadn’t intentionally left the fridge open each time. It was simply how you were; getting distracted, finally free of the constant nagging and worry about the bills. Yes, Wednesday should have known you would be hyper-aware of such a thing, but she hadn’t imagined you would lose your focus that quickly.

“Come on,” you said quietly, grabbing Wednesday’s hand and pulling her into the living room.

Your hand was warm in hers. Even after all this time, after so much physical contact with you, your body heat would surprise her. There was no reason, she had grown accustomed to it long ago. Whether it was simply your hand in hers, your hand pressed against the small of her back, or your body curling around hers at night. You were warm, almost painfully warm, and it was sensational.

Wednesday sat on the couch opposite you, turning just enough to face you. On the other side, you crossed your legs on the couch, looking like an overgrown child. Or she supposed it was more reminiscent of a rather large dog not understanding quite how large they were. Behind you, your wings strained against the confines of not only the loosened harness, but the jacket you had yanked on earlier in the day.

“Do you think I would kill someone.” It wasn’t so much a question anymore; any hesitancy in your voice had long faded. “Be honest.”

Yes. Yes, she did believe you would kill someone. She remembered the fear and anger in your eyes back at Nevermore when that rogue werewolf had gone after you and Eugene. If it had gone after Eugene, you would have killed it without a moment’s hesitation. Add on to that the looks she had seen you give others who attempted to harm - whether emotionally or physically - any of your friends? Yes, she believed without question that you would kill someone.

But not, however, without reason.

“No,” Wednesday lied effortlessly.

“So you believe I didn’t do it?” You asked. “There’s no doubt in your mind that I’m innocent?”

“In this instance, yes.”

Your shoulders visibly relaxed at her words. There was an unusual relationship surrounding the both of you and your criminal proclivities. While you wouldn’t fault the other for their activities, you were both incredibly willing to tell the other one if they’re guilty. For instance, you had acknowledged her grave digging scandal from last year. Not with shame, but admiration. On the other hand, she would not hesitate to remind you of your underage, international murder scandal.

It was an exceptionally beautiful relationship.

“How’d you know it wasn’t me?” You asked, doe eyes looking up at her through your eyelashes. A faux innocence that did wonders for Wednesday’s imagination.

She shifted in her seat and inhaled deeply. “I taught you better than to leave evidence behind.” You snorted with laughter. “Leaving behind an entire foot is an amateur move at best.”

“And here I thought you’d say I was too kind for murder,” you said.

Wednesday would have been content to allow the conversation to end as it was. As long as you believed she had faith in your innocence, there wasn’t much else to say. Your anger had appeared to dissipate and there was no need to dwell on the topic. After all, as long as she believed you, could you really be all that upset?

But you still didn’t move from your spot. In fact, you didn’t even move to grab the remote, or to put on some sort of noise in the background of the usual apartment noises. You simply sat there, legs crossed, playing with your fingers. Dread welled up in Wednesday’s chest; she knew those mannerisms.

“So,” you started, drawing the word out long enough for Wednesday to feel not only dread, but pure horror. “Wanna hear my new date idea?”

She sat up straighter, eyes moving around the apartment for nothing in particular. Oh. Well, that wasn’t quite what she had been expecting.

You waited for her to nod once. “Remember when I visited Nicky for Christmas?” She nodded again. “Well, I think I remembered something.”

Another pause as you recollected your thoughts.

“He had this notebook,” you held your hands out like you were holding the object, “or I guess it was a journal.” Your hands squeezed into fists. “He wrote everything in it, and I need to go find it.”

“Why would you need a journal?” She asked.

You sighed. “I think he wrote about everything our parents did and I just- I- I need to know.” Your pupils were blown. “I have to know what happened in that house.”

Wednesday still said nothing.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” you said, “and I need to know what happened before I lose my fucking mind.”

The skin on your knuckles paled as you continued to ball your hands into fists. Even as her outward demeanour remained the same, Wednesday felt the effects of her heart rate increasing. She hadn’t needed Enid to explain what panicking was, though this was getting dangerously close to falling off the ledge of “panic” and into the pool of “desperation.”

If it had been anyone but you, she would have felt humiliated as she so-eagerly reached out to place one of her hands on top of yours. Her small, cold hand couldn’t cover your entire fist. Yet that didn’t seem to matter when she felt the tendons in your hand ease up, and you quickly turned it over until you could lock fingers with hers.

She would never admit such a thing aloud, at least not to anyone but you, but her chest warmed when she was the cause for your relief. It wasn’t the same warmth she felt for selfish reasons; it was vastly different from when she beat Bianca at a game of wits. This was more encompassing, more… more.

“How does that relate to your date idea?” Wednesday asked.

You looked up at her through your lashes again, though your smile was far more mischievous than earlier.

“Wednesday Addams,” you said in a tone that sent a shiver down her spine, “would you like to commit a B&E with me this weekend?”

Now that. That was wholly deserving of her own matching smile. You certainly knew the way to an Addams’ cold heart.

—---

It didn’t take long for Wednesday to realise just how long you had been planning this “date,” or at least something similar.

“They’re never home on weekends,” you said when you dropped the both of you into the yard. “They’re always either at the Catskills, or schmoozing their way through the Senate.”

She admired the way your wings tucked against your back. As much as she hated flying, she wouldn’t deny her fascination with the appendages, especially after the fact. Only when they were still could she see the muscle underneath the feathers and skin; muscle that had to be incredibly dense if they could carry you and her without a larger wingspan.

Maybe it was time she strapped you down and studied your musculature again. Clearly you had grown since the last time.

“There’s a risk doing this in broad daylight, is there not?” Wednesday asked when you stopped underneath a window.

You shook your head without looking away from the house. “Everyone in the area is still sleeping off their hangovers.”

“Cameras?”

“Fake.” You finally looked at her, a certain glimmer in your eye that had Wednesday’s stomach twisting into knots. “They always said just the belief someone was being watched was enough of a deterrent.”

“A foolish mistake,” Wednesday mumbled to herself.

“But helpful for us,” you said with a smile. “The window goes to my room,” you said, locking your fingers together to create a makeshift step. “I’ll hop in after you.”

“Silent alarms?” She asked as she placed her hands on your shoulders to steady herself. Your muscles shifted underneath your shirt when you started raising her closer to the window.

“Nope,” you said. “They rely on their fake security cameras and Eddy.”

“Who?” Wednesday asked, her hands stilling on the outside lock of the window. She adored you for saving the lock for her to pick.

“Our security guy,” you said. “He’s sweet, but shit at his job.”

The use of the word “our” did not escape Wednesday’s attention as she pulled herself through the now-unlocked window. It wasn’t often that you would lump yourself into the same group as your parents. More often than not, you attempted to distance yourself as much as possible, even going so far as to call them by their first names. Though she supposed, at the end of the day, they were still your parents no matter what they said or did. You loved too deeply to eliminate them completely.

For the sake of easing her curiosity, she slowly made her way around your room even as the gentle flap of your wings could be heard outside the window. The room itself reminded her of her own room back at Nevermore. Almost no personal items, nothing indicative of who you were. The only thing that would indicate anyone had even lived in the room was a singular photo in a frame; a photo of you and Nicky on a sailboat in a time long forgotten.

“Ready?” You asked over the sound of the window sliding shut. “It’s a quick trip down the hall, unless they moved everything to dad’s office.”

There was an air about you as you crossed the room. After Nicky, you had tended to roam, seemingly without any direction. If someone said jump, you would ask how high. But this was different; you looked like you had a mission and there was a clear physical determination in the set of your shoulders and the glint in your eye.

Wednesday reached out to grab your arm. Your muscles were taut, but quickly relaxed when you looked down at her. She hadn’t forgotten what you were both there to do; she was more than aware of the desperation you kept hidden behind a cocky smile.

It did nothing to ease the growing affection she had for you in that moment. Breaking and entering was a good look for you.

All it took was one firm tug on your arm to pull you down to face level. She simply had to lean forward slightly to kiss you. You were always like putty in her hands when she kissed you. In those moments, she swore you would have done anything she asked, no consideration required. It gave her a sense of control that you so often inadvertently took away.

When she pulled away - though, surprisingly, hesitantly - your eyes fluttered before opening fully. Her amazement at your reaction to her never eased over the days. Back at Nevermore, she had fully believed her body would become accustomed to how you reacted; she had never been so grateful to be wrong.

“If only my parents knew I just kissed a woman in their house,” you said softly, your words tumbling from your lips faster than normal. “They would die from shock.”

Wednesday ignored the flutter of her heart. “Lead the way so we can go home.”

“Yes ma’am,” you said with a tip of your invisible hat.

You manoeuvred your arm until you could hold her hand, pulling her after you on the way out of your room. Not the best way to stay inconspicuous, but Wednesday had become rather fond of the way her hand felt in yours, so she wouldn’t dare pull away.

The both of you peeked around the doorframe, looking both ways before exiting your room. The house was far too pristine for Wednesday’s liking. How could a family reside in a house with so little belongings? Where was the tapestry of history hanging from the walls? The artefacts that belonged to generations past to symbolise where you came from? Instead they were bare walls, minimalist in a way that even she found tasteless.

It only took a few steps down the hall before you attempted to open the door. The doorknob jiggled, but wouldn’t turn. With a sigh, you pulled Wednesday closer until she had full access to the lock. She was more than aware that you knew how to pick a lock; you had practiced it for weeks after she had mentioned it. But she appreciated your allowing her to have all the fun.

The lock was child’s play; your parents may have been intelligent, but they didn’t appear to take security very seriously. You pulled her with you into the room before turning and closing the door quietly, the click of the lock almost inaudible. She felt the cold air hit her palm as you pulled your hand away.

“Look for a journal,” you said. “A leather one with a black string tied around it.”

You didn’t wait for her to acknowledge your statement before digging around the room. And as much as Wednesday wanted to help, she couldn’t help but watch you. There was a gentleness to your rushed movements, almost as if you were worried you would break something. She knew you still grieved for Nicky even if you didn’t outwardly show it. His items were sacred to you in a way few things were.

“You okay?” You asked, and Wednesday was faced with the humiliation of getting caught staring.

“Of course,” she said, doing her best to sound as uninterested as possible. Unfortunately for her, you had broken her emotionless facade years ago.

Unlike your room, Nicky’s held some semblance of life. Select baseball cards were put in small plastic cases and propped up on the dresser. Under his bed was shoebox after shoebox, filled to the brim with comics, toy cars, marbles, and a menagerie of random Lego pieces. Toys that had been absent from your room.

“I can’t find it,” you said once you finished looking through every inch of the closet. “Just his stupid, stuffy clothes.”

Wednesday was kind enough to ignore the jacket you quickly tied around your waist.

“You mentioned it might be in your father’s office,” she said.

You sighed. “I guess I always did want to see what he hid in there.”

You didn’t grab her hand before leaving the room; she was thankful you couldn’t see her frown at the realisation. But she was quick to follow, closing the door as softly as you had. The new wooden flooring was a blessing, being far too new to make a sound when you snuck down the hall.

The hall opened up to a balcony overlooking the foyer. A large grandfather clock was almost directly below, tick tick ticking away; Wednesday couldn’t imagine hearing the sound every single hour of your life. The marble flooring was beautiful with its golden veins, though it was far from her sense of style. It all looked beyond pristine.

How had you ever managed to live in such a sterile environment?

“Come on,” you whispered, grabbing Wednesday’s hand to pull her away from her staring. “I want to get out of here.”

Your grip on her hand was a little too tight for comfort. You would never hurt her, she knew that, but it was certainly pushing the boundary. She tried to squeeze your hand, only barely managing to do so, but your grip lightened almost instantly.

As hard as she tried, there would be no way for Wednesday to know how you felt about being back in the house. You hadn’t let her know much about what had happened before and after the funeral, but she had seen the damage. The weight loss, the jittery movements, the avoidance. She would admit, she couldn’t recall a time where she had felt so uncomfortable in a location.

It was an unusual feeling, wondering how someone else would feel in a certain situation. It settled deep in her stomach, leaving behind a feeling of… emptiness. Was that how you felt, being in your childhood home once again? Knowing that there were no good memories, only sorrow and grief and a void that you could never fill?

“Y/N?”

You froze, standing up as straight as possible. Wednesday often forgot how tall you were; you took to slouching more often than not. She attempted to see who had called your name, but you quickly stepped in front of her, hiding her from sight.

“We’ll be leaving soon,” you said softly. Your tone was gentle, almost similar to how you talked with your mother. “I promise.”

“Is that her?”

You squeezed her hand. There was a moment where the air was so thick, Wednesday truly thought she would drown in it. Yet another feeling that she was rather unfamiliar with. It only got worse as you stepped aside, turning your body sideways to keep a strategic position between her and this new guest in front of you.

The woman looked homely. She looked older than Wednesday’s own mother, though not as old as Grandmama Addams; the wrinkles on her brown skin gave it away. Even as she dried her hands on the hand towel in her pocket, Wednesday could tell they were well worn from years of use. And yet she still looked at you with a kindness that Wednesday knew you had never gotten from your own mother.

“Mabel,” you said softly, “this is Wednesday.”

Mabel smiled. “You’re more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

The statement left an uncomfortable weight in Wednesday’s chest that she couldn’t quite place. She didn’t believe it was because of the statement itself, it was simple enough. No, it could potentially be from the implication? Perhaps it came from knowing that you had talked about her to someone from your past. The same past that she was blind to, that you actively hid from her.

Someone from your past knew about her and it was… frightening.

“We just need in the office,” you said, “and then we’ll be gone.”

Mabel said nothing. She simply stood to the side of the hall, leaving plenty of space for you to pull Wednesday along. There was a moment where Wednesday met her warm brown eyes; they were filled with a look of motherly care. It made her sick to her stomach.

“Don’t touch anything,” you said when you closed the office door. “I’ll only be a minute.”

Wednesday didn’t think she could have searched for anything even if you had asked her to. She couldn’t get Mabel’s eyes out of her mind. There was a horrifying amount of tenderness when she looked at you. Your head had been turned too far, but she could imagine the same sentiment had been in your own eyes.

What a world you had lived in. To grow up receiving care not from your actual parents, but from your brother and the family maid. Now, Wednesday was not overly fond of how her own parents showed their affection; they were too forward and extravagant. That did not, however, change the fact that they loved their children with their entire beings.

She walked forward while you were still digging around. You weren’t touching things, just ghosting your fingers over the spines of books, the shelves, hesitating before pulling open the metal filing cabinets. There was the smallest tell in your actions; your hands shook not with anger, but with fear.

Her feet stopped her in front of a small set of shelves covered in awards and framed newspaper clippings. Your father’s winning cases littered the wall, each seeming to receive a more extravagant frame than the last. But right in the middle of all of them was a singular picture frame, a misfit amongst the glory with its chipped black paint.

It was a family picture of all four of you. The lot was bundled up in winter clothes. Your father held skis in his right hand, and a young you in his left. Nicky stood between your parents, and your mother was looking regal as always. A snow capped mountain made for beautiful background scenery, but that wasn’t what Wednesday was focused on.

You were all smiling.

Your voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, telling her not to touch anything. But who was Wednesday to deny her own curiosity? Curiosity sparked new thoughts, new revelations, and she was never one to deny herself such satisfaction. Besides, you were far too busy with your own search, how would you know if she simply picked up the picture to get a closer look-

-her brain didn’t even have time to process the shock before she felt the chill of winter whipping around her. She couldn’t orient herself properly, but she recognised the snowy mountain in front of her. The peal of laughter brought her spinning head to a halt; it was higher pitched, but she would recognise it anywhere.

You were waddling across the snow after Nicky, hands outstretched in front of you. The look on your face was so genuine, so pure, Wednesday wasn’t entirely sure she had ever seen it on your face in all of her own years of knowing you. It was almost a peaceful aura about you, as if nothing had troubled your young mind just yet. Perhaps it hadn’t.

A little further behind the both of you, your parents stood together, smiling down at you. It was different from the polite, professional smiles she had seen on their faces before. These reached their eyes. If she let her mind stretch reality for a moment, she could almost see… love in those smiles.

“Come on, you two,” your mother said in her slightly accented voice. “Let’s get inside before it gets late.”

“Coming!” Nicky called, letting you chase him as you both ran through the snow that was starting to pile higher on the ground.

Wednesday followed along behind the four of you, keeping her distance for better observation. Nicky was quick to get beside your mother, while you stayed beside your father. His hand grabbed yours gently, dwarfing your entire body beside him. The look on his face would have been precious if she hadn’t known how he ended up treating you.

She stayed outside of the small cabin when you all went inside. It was nothing fancy, nothing that would indicate the small fortune that you came from. Simply a secluded cabin on what appeared to be a secluded mountainside. Wednesday could appreciate the small structure even as she stood by the window, peering in.

There was a small fire on the far wall, and Nicky was quick to shed his winter clothes to sit in front of it. Your father stayed behind, helping you out of the clothes that probably weighed more than you did. It amazed Wednesday how someone so small could turn into the absolute giant that you were in the present.

Your father’s hands were so gentle on your skin. If she didn’t know any better, it would have looked like love. Maybe it was. Perhaps it used to be. Surely there had been a time, much like this, where you had been loved so unconditionally that it reflected off your smile. He was so careful with you, helping you with each layer of clothing as if one wrong move would break you. You were cherished, you were loved, you were cared for.

He helped you take off the last remaining layer aside from your shirt. It stuck to the small coat, pulling up until it caught on your head, and Wednesday felt that uncomfortably familiar weight settle in her chest. Your back, untouched by the traumas of the future, was bare. No wings, no indication of anything that would signify you were anything other than a Normie.

Your parents loved you because you were “normal.”

“Wends?”

The chill of the mountain air disappeared, too quickly replaced by the warmth of your home. It was a painful switch, leaving her fingers tingling and burning at the same time. She pulled her hand back to her side, being careful not to move the picture frame. You were sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, your brows furrowed. The crinkle between your eyes was more prominent than usual.

“Are you okay?” You asked.

She nodded once, hesitantly.

“I can’t find it,” you said with a sigh. “We should head out before it gets too late.”

You didn’t move from the desk, just kept looking at her. And all the while, Wednesday couldn’t ignore the way her heart started to race. Sitting at that desk, with your back ramrod straight and arms resting on the mahogany wood, you looked like someone who belonged there. A completely different person than the one she had unceremoniously fallen for time and time again.

You looked just like your father.

She would never say it aloud.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday imagine #jenna ortega x reader #everyone but her au

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silkjade · 7 months

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alhaitham x mermaid! reader (5) / epilogue

⤀ warnings: fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned, reader has hair long enough to be pinned, kissing ! a/n: recommended to read the previous parts first, since this is a direct continuation. tiny reference to a sumeru hidden quest prev ﾉ series masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𓇼

For the first time in months, alhaitham returns to the little cove out by the waters of port ormos. He tosses a chunk of crystal ore, testing the weight—once, twice—before catching it again in the palm of his hand. It skips thrice before sinking below the surface, and internally, he's quite pleased with this exceptional display of muscle memory.

The cyan stone sinks, further and further down into the darkness of the midnight sea, until it lands softly into the palms of your hands, weightless. Despite the long pause in your correspondence, you've never forgotten how the waves shift in response to his disturbance. So when you had sensed that familiar movement rippling through the water, you swam towards the source, smiling because you knew.

“Drown anyone in my absence?”

“No, but that can change depending on what you’ve brought for me today.”

Emerging from the shallows, you sit yourself atop a nearby rock. The water droplets clinging to your skin and tail catch like crystals in the moonlight, and alhaitham has half a mind to pinch himself and confirm that you’re neither a dream, nor another desert mirage.

“Zaytun peaches. Your favorite,” he begins, “and golden roses from aaru village.”

You brush the tip of your finger along the flower’s velvet petals, so brilliantly gold, as if he’d stolen the sun right out of the sky.

“The desert was too harsh an environment for sumeru roses to grow, so an amurta researcher set about cultivating one that could.”

Voice softening, alhaitham continues as his hands unfurl to reveal the hairpin he had once gifted you. “As promised…”

You can feel the lingering warmth of his touch on the metal as you wrap delicate fingers around the piece, re-admiring the florid craftsmanship. It's still as beautiful as you remember, maybe even more so, considering how you've longed for this moment to come.

You brush your thumb over the mysterious symbols carved on the centermost gem, pulsing with a soft ember's glow.

“It’s a protective rune I discovered in the desert. As long as you wear it, you won’t have to worry about needing to return to the sea.”

Perhaps that would explain why it somehow feels sturdier. Or why the nagadus emeralds appear to shine brighter, and more vibrant. You purse your lips in an attempt to quell the thrumming in your chest. He really did it. He really found a solution to something so seemingly impossible.

Alhaitham clears his throat, snapping you from your thoughts. "May I...?"

Nodding, you turn around as he takes the accessory, shifting his fingers through your hair before pinning it in place, a vast improvement from his very first attempt.

"Well, how does it look?"

"It’s beautiful on you.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks, taken aback my his forwardness. His reply hadn’t missed a single beat, answering as if he’d stated a fact rather than an opinion. Sure, you had expected some sort of witty remark tossed into his words, but rarely did he ever outright compliment you so directly.

Turning your head, you successfully avert your gaze; it's the only way you know how to deal with this sudden bout of bashfulness, but his fingers brush your chin, and you follow as he leads you back to him. Alhaitham closes a large hand over your own—his grip steady like his heartbeat, firm like his resolve.

Teal eyes bore into yours, shifting only to linger on your lips for far longer than he should've. How he longs for another taste... The faint glow of a blush dusts across his cheeks and onto the tips of his ears. He must pull himself together before his mind has the chance to stray further.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, leaning in.

Your breaths mingle in the little space between your face and his, but you pull away at the last minute—just the slightest bit—so that his lips catch the air instead.

“Why should I?”

Alhaitham straightens, taking in your look of feigned apathy, clearly given away by that playful layer of expectancy brocaded in your expression. Of course you want to hear him say it; he's made you wait long enough.

The corners of his mouth lift into that phantom of a smile, one you’ve come to adore so much: small and sly, daring and charming in a way unique only to him.

“Because I love you.”

“And I’m yours, if you’ll still have me,” he adds, confidence unwavering.

There's no hiding the delight and relief that breaks across your features. Your heart soars, and the single breath exhaled during this time-frozen lull, lifts it to impossible heights. Finally.

You don't shy away this time when he comes in to kiss you, grinning at how right it feels. His hands grab at your waist, pulling you closer, eager to deepen the kiss. He's missed you, missed your touch, and of how you taste so sweet, like nectar from the garden of the gods... but you break away.

"Can you say it again?" Your soft laughter rings through the air, and alhaitham rolls his eyes, indulging you nonetheless.

"I love you," he repeats, stealing another kiss in the process. And then once more, for good measure, during the quick moment of air between his barrage of kisses, interrupted only by your yelp of surprise, as he scoops you up into his arms.

“Well?” He looks at you expectantly, a brow raised and a smirk dancing on his lips. You giggle as your hand curves along the side of his face, guiding his mouth to yours once again.

“I love you too, haitham.”

a/n2: the golden rose is actually a reference to a hidden quest in aaru village! i thought it was a cool metaphor hehe ^^ it’s a super easy quest chain + u get a pretty teapot decoration at the end :D

a/n3: and that’s a wrap ! i hope you’ve enjoyed this lil series as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it hehe tbh i was a bit nervous since the last part flopped, but in the end it doesn’t rlly matter ^^;; cus i read every single one of your comments / rb tags and i rlly appreciate them all so so much (இ﹏இ`｡) && while this is the end of this story, my ask is always open for more brainrots ‘n whatnot ! who knows i may write xtras lol ANYWAYS tysm for reading & sticking around ‘til the end ♡

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lauraneedstochill · 1 year

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My first choice (part 1/2)

summary: Aemond thinks you are way too good to be Aegon’s best friend. But you are enough for the one-eye prince to fall in love with.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader words: ~ 5500

warnings: friends to lovers, slow burn (with very obvious mutual pining), angst, Aegon is a sad boy (but ends up being a pretty good wingman!)

author's note: this is inspired by “Little women” and Amy March in particular. I took the liberty to rewrite some plot lines because to me Aemond is nothing like Laurie (Aegon is ;) and I hate love triangles so we are not having any of that sorry. it's a bit of a roller coaster so I divided it into 2 parts in hopes that it will be easier to read: the first part explains Aemond's feelings, the second one is about hers. ✨ part 2

part 1. How could you be so blind

Aegon knows he's supposed to be relieved — he never wanted the crown and now that Rhaenyra is the Queen and a feast is arranged in her honor, he should be celebrating. And he may have been hitting the wine way too hard for the past couple of hours, but he can’t pretend to be happy, and he gave up trying to force a smile. It’s ridiculous that he is upset over this, and yet he can’t help but feel horribly useless. The prince drinks one cup after another until the room starts spinning and he can’t even sit straight — and then he suddenly finds himself propped against the wall, sliding under the table instead of sitting at it. Aegon catches a few judgemental glances but at this point, he couldn’t care less. There is only one person whose judgment he is afraid of — and it’s not long before he’s greeted with a displeased remark:

“When I asked you not to swoop too low, I couldn’t imagine you would literally lay on the floor.”

He looks up — and here you are, staring down at him, not even trying to cover up your disappointment. At any other time, Aegon would’ve at least tried to sober up, but today he’s disappointed in himself, too, so he doesn’t make an effort. Instead, he reaches out an arm to you with a lax smile:

“Would you like to join me?”

“I didn’t get the invitation to this pity party so I will pass,” your tone suggests you are not in the mood for jesting. “Now that you’ve succeeded in making a fool out of yourself, would you mind getting upright?”

“I think I like it here,” he retorts, shamelessly staring at the legs of the maids passing by.

“You like wallowing in misery for all to see?” you huff. “Aegon, get up.”

He fakes a whine:

“My legs gave out, I’m afraid!”

“You would need to drink all the wine in the castle for that to happen, and I doubt you managed to do that,” you roll your eyes, taking a step toward him — but pause upon hearing a voice behind your back:

“You underestimate my brother.”

Aemond has a habit of sneaking up on people which often startles you yet right now you are too angry at Aegon to be bothered. You throw Aemond a glare over your shoulder but your eyes soften when you see the apologetic look on his face. It’s not the first time that the two of you find yourself in this situation — throughout the years you learned to work as a team: you bring Aegon back to his senses while Aemond helps to physically bring him to the nearest flat surface. You have never asked him for help — and yet he’s always there.

Aemond is about to lean down to help his brother up — you stop the one-eye prince with your hand, your palm inches away from his chest. Anyone else would’ve thought twice before standing in his way but you don’t hesitate.

“He is perfectly capable to get up on his own,” you reject Aemond’s attempt, your eyes fixed on Aegon. “He can hold onto the wall shall he feel unable to stay on his two feet.”

There is something in your gaze that makes Aegon uncomfortable, piercing him to the bone. You are never downright mean or rude but with just a few words you can easily unmask his feigned recklessness. The prince stands up, tottering and feeling a little light-headed.

“Are you happy, now when I'm in the standing position?”

“If you cared about anyone else's feelings but your own, you wouldn't be in this position,” you scold him while Aemond takes his brother under the arm to guide him out. Aegon tries to grab another cup of wine but you slap his hand.

“Do you ever get ashamed of yourself?” you hiss at him.

“Let me think... No, why would I?” he sounds sarcastic.

“You should be,” you whisper scream at him. “You can find nothing to do but dawdle and make a mockery of yourself!”

Aemond feels his brother shuddering at your words, and he tightens his hold on Aegon.

“Well, what else am I to do,” his voice is bitter. “Since I am not an heir and serve no purpose to the realm nor do I have any taste for duty.”

You slow your pace, and a sigh leaves your mouth.

“I feel sorry for you, Aegon, I do. I only wish you'd bear it better,” you reach out to stroke his arm but the prince bristles.

“You don't have to feel sorry for me. Your duty is to marry, and we will see how that goes,” he mutters before he can stop himself — and regrets it the very next second when you swiftly turn to him.

“At least I would be respected if I couldn't be loved,” your tone hushed but sharp.

Aegon stops dead in his tracks, his wide eyes meeting yours. You moved away from the crowd into the hall, and it becomes silent. And then his lower lip quivers.

“But I thought that you loved me,” Aegon whimpers, his assumed nonchalance instantly gone.

“Oh, Aegon, how much did you have to drink?” you come to his side, lending him a shoulder to cry on. While he’s aggressively sniffling, you look at Aemond and quietly mouth “How many cups?”

“Way more than usual,” he gives you a wan smile, and you groan at his answer, taking Aegon by the arm.

“Alright, you can lean on me. But don’t get handsy or I will push you down the stairs,” your remark earns a weak laugh from the older prince, and the three of you head toward his chambers.

Aegon doesn’t talk much but his mood softens and you exchange a few jokes before finally reaching his room.

“I can take it from here,” Aemond suggests but his brother eagerly protests.

“No, I want to be tucked into bed! And definitely not by you,” he sticks out his tongue, and you chuckle at his whim.

“Aemond, I can handle him.”

The one-eyed prince shoots you a knowing glance and holds the door open for you and Aegon to walk in. You slowly move to his bed, making sure he doesn’t stumble on his way — and then, with a sudden boost of energy, the prince flops down on the fluffy blankets, letting out a satisfied moan. You hold back a giggle and wait for him to crawl under the covers.

“Should I call for the maid to help you undress?”

“No, I am way too comfortable like this,” he pulls the blanket up to his chin, and you sit on the edge of the bed.

“I am sorry for the way I behaved,” he reveals, frowning. “I did not mean to, truly.”

“Aegon, you know I’m not the one you should apologize to,” you take his hand in yours, and he squeezes it with childish eagerness. “You left Helaena all alone. And you promised me you would make an effort.”

“I know, I know,” he yawns. “I was doing better until today, I swear, you should ask her,” his speech becomes incoherent as he is already too drowsy to talk, his cheeks flushed from the wine and the heat of the blankets. As you stand up to leave, Aegon mumbles:

“I fetched you a book... the one you were looking for,” he sloppily points to his table by the window before dozing off.

There is only one book so it’s easy to find — and when you do, you can barely contain a sound of surprise: it's the complete history of Westeros, heavy and hardcover, decorated with gilding. You glance at Aegon but he looks fast asleep so you cautiously get out of his chambers.

If you were to turn around, you would’ve noticed that he kept an eye on you with a grin on his face.

When you walk out, you see Aemond still standing there, his gaze landing on the book and then immediately on you. It takes you a minute to figure it out and then you smile at him:

“Even though I appreciate the gesture, it is hard to imagine Aegon in the library.”

“He asked me to help him find the book you wanted. I did,” the prince explains as if it isn’t that big of a deal. But to you, it is — although you think he only did it out of politeness.

“Thank you, Aemond,” you enthusiastically turn your attention to the book, flipping through the pages in awe. He watches you, feeling the warmth in his chest at the sight of your joy.

“You know that you bring out the best in him?” Aemond says in a low voice, and your heart skips a beat at his comment. You are thankful for the dim lighting that makes your heated cheeks less obvious.

“You overestimate my influence,” you say, then dither before admitting, “I’m afraid I was too hard on him today.”

“Someone has to do it,” Aemond objects, and there’s something in his tone — sincere and soft, that makes you look at him again. At this moment, away from the prying eyes and the pressure of everyone’s expectations, you can see the side of him that people rarely get acquainted with.

“I think you are doing a pretty good job, too,” you tell the prince, finding his presence ever so calming. You could never understand why would anyone call Aemond intimidating when he’s been nothing but kind to you ever since you two met. Whenever you have a chance to be alone with him, his company always brings you comfort, and that feeling is so rare, you want to chase it.

But then you remind yourself of the harsh reality, and your smile falters.

“I’m sorry you had to get involved,” you look down at the book. “I wouldn’t want to distract you.”

“You need to elaborate on that,” Aemond says uncomprehendingly.

“I’ve heard that you were courting lady Baratheon,” you explain casually, avoiding his gaze.

He hesitates before answering.

“Well, I only plan to,” the prince clarifies. “If she accepts my advances.”

“It would be silly of her not to,” you blurt out and, while you can’t see it, Aemond gives you a quizzical look.

“She may have her reasons —”

“I can’t come up with a single one,” you tell him with so much confidence, Aemond’s heart flutters at your words but you continue without a second thought. “You are intelligent, good-hearted, handsome — and a really skilled swordsman. Not to mention you have the biggest dragon in the realm, which does sound like a reasonable perk.”

The prince is glad that you’re too preoccupied with the book to see his stunned expression. It’s not just the fact that you compliment him so easily — but also the way you do it. When other people try to, they usually start with Vhagar as if the old grumpy creature is the main good thing about Aemond. But you only bring up the dragon at the very end and in passing, instead keeping the focus on the prince. He is silent for a moment, letting your words sink into his memory.

And then Aemond persuades himself that you only said it out of politeness.

You notice his lack of response — and you are about to question it when a maid comes to you in haste:

“Lady Y/N, your presence is needed. Your father is looking for you.”

“Better not keep him waiting,” the prince encourages you with a grin. “If he finds Aegon, he might hug him to death.”

You playfully elbow him and turn to follow the maid but then stop to say:

“Please make sure your brother stays in bed.”

“Will do,” Aemond looks at you walking away, clutching the book to your chest as if it's the most precious thing in the world.

To this day, it is truly a mystery to him how Aegon managed to befriend someone like you. You met the Targaryen brothers when your family was invited to one of the royal feasts. You were ten and three, the middle one of three sisters. Your oldest — Elaesa — has been the center of attention, beautiful and graceful, but while everyone’s eyes were on her, you looked a little bit disoriented. It was the first feast that you’ve attended, and maybe you got too agitated or overwhelmed — or both — but soon you ended up lost in the castle, and somehow ripped the hem of your dress in the process.

Aemond was the one to find you. The prince has never been keen on taking part in celebrations, often sneaking away from all the noise. That’s when he saw you — fussing with the dress, your sobs echoing through the hall.

“Are you hurt?” he rushed to your side, and you looked up at him with blubbered eyes.

“Why do you have so many halls? You should hand out maps so people can find their way back,” despite being clearly upset, you sounded unusually serious, and Aemond fought back a smile.

“I can help you find your parents without a map,” he suggested, and for a second it seemed to lighten your mood but then your pout worsened.

“I cannot go back,” you gestured at the dress. “I am in such trouble!” you whined, the tears threatening to spill out of your eyes.

Truth be told, Aemond didn’t have much experience with ladies back then nor did he know a thing about dresses but your distress seemed so genuine he couldn’t leave you be.

“It is not that bad,” he pointed at the ripped material. “I can ask our seamstress to take a look.”

You studied his face for a second, then glanced back at the dress — surprisingly, that was all it took for you to stop crying, and no other coaxing was needed. You wiped your nose and fixed your hairdo, smoothing the damaged hem the best you could.

“I'd appreciate it if you help me find my way back,” you said, your face seemingly more relaxed.

Getting you to talk was pretty easy, and Aemond shortly discovered how open-minded and outspoken you were, using your quick thinking to compensate for your timid personality. When you returned to the hall of the Iron Throne, he was reluctant to let you go but promised to come back with the seamstress. The task only took him about ten minutes, but when he did reappear, you were not alone — Aegon was standing next to you, making you laugh so hard, it looked like you forgot about the dress already. Aemond didn’t mean to interrupt as he suddenly felt very out of place, uninvited in his own home, so he abandoned the idea of helping you and just left.

At first, he thought you fell for Aegon’s flirtatious charms but soon learned that, as much as you did like his brother’s humor, his charms had no effect on you. On the contrary, you often chided him for hitting on young girls and openly condemned his affection for wine. Your honesty set you apart from all the ladies Aegon was surrounded with — and that was the reason he came to enjoy your company as much as he did. Despite the three years age gap, you were the one who told him the truth, no matter how ugly it might’ve been, but you did so without prejudice or any ill intentions. You would usually follow your critique with advice or a solution of some sort to keep the prince away from unnecessary trouble. That is why you were on friendly terms with Helaena, too, and your influence was also welcomed by Alicent, the then Queen. She liked that you were straightforward with your remarks and often said that you were wise beyond your years. Although, as much as Aemond agreed with it, he suspected there was a reason you had to grow up early.

It happened the same year you met — your older sister, with all her grace and beauty, ran away from home to elope with some unworthy beggar. Your mother was inconsolable for at least a week, saying that Elaesa brought shame upon her family. Your father, the kind man that he is, forgave his daughter fairly quickly and tried his best to restore peace. And yet, you came to realize that Elaesa's vagary did cast a shadow over your House. Your youngest sister, Alyna, was a fragile little thing, frequently sick and tacit — which left you to be the one representing your family in the eyes of society.

Within a few years, there wasn't a thing you weren't good at: lords lined up to have a dance with you, ladies admired how well-spoken you were and shared a laugh at your florid sarcasm, and you learned to embroider, to ride a horse, to walk exquisitely dressed and with impeccable posture. But while for everyone else it was a reason to compliment you, Aemond saw the underlying cause of your diligence — the corrosive desire to prove one's worth which was something he learned to live with as well. And which led him to think he understood you better than anyone.

More often than not he found himself watching you as if he had the need to make sure you weren't in harm's way. Helping you with Aegon was a part of that routine but it also gave him a chance to be alone with you. You talked about everything and nothing in particular, and he would catch glimpses of you — the real you, shy and emotional at times, but still understanding and perceptive. He cherished every opportunity to steal you away from the never-ending chattering, from lords ogling at you, from Jason Lannister whose interest in your company should've been concerning. Aemond has gotten so used to observing you, so enthralled with your covert conversations, he didn't realize that a particular feeling was creeping up on him. But there was one person who turned out to be more observant than Aemond has been. Aegon was the mere reason why his brother ended up at your door a few days later. Aemond’s been to your place a couple of times and he promptly memorized the way to the farthest room of the house — the one you used to paint in. It was the only thing you truly allowed yourself to enjoy, an unexpected talent of yours which you soon perfected, too, except it wasn't meant for the others to marvel at but plainly for you to keep your head occupied, to have some quiet time.

He walks in when you are already painting the finishing touches. When you turn to greet him, you stop mid-sentence, seeing that it’s Aemond instead of his brother who you were waiting for.

“He overslept,” the younger prince shrugs. “It isn't a bothersome task to come pick up the portrait of my nephews.”

You point in the direction of the painting with the brush in your hand. Aemond admires your work — as he always does — while you try to shake off your confusion. There is another reason you did not expect to see Aemond today. You tarry with voicing your concern but eventually glance at him with empathy:

“I was sorry to hear about lady Baratheon’s decision.”

“I was not,” he’s quick to retort.

“I cannot imagine agreeing to marry a Stark,” you say, dipping a brush in a jar of water.

“Is it the cold weather?” Aemond grins knowingly.

“Yes! Gods, just thinking about it makes me feel uneasy. All the layers you have to wear to keep yourself warm, barely being able to move, getting no sunlight...,” you ramble, making sure to wet all the brushes before lining them up on the table.

“Some say they've got quite a beautiful scenery,” Aemond tries to object although he knows his argument doesn't stand a chance.

“I wouldn't be able to enjoy that,” you huff. “How am I to capture the beauty if my paint freezes?”

He only hums in agreement, watching you busy yourself with your supplies. You go through the brushes, delicately cleaning the bristles with a cloth. Your fingers carefully take one brush after the other, and Aemond silently admires your love for neatness and order.

“You are staring,” you say without turning to him.

“Where do you want me to look at?”

“Aemond, you are in a room full of art!” you chuckle lightly. “Surely, enough options to land your eye on.”

The prince lets his gaze go around the place, and it takes him about a minute to quickly examine all the paintings. And then he inevitably looks at you again. Aemond thinks he likes this view the most.

“When do you begin your next great work of art?” he asks, hoping to distract you.

You halt movement, then force out glumly:

“Never.”

“What do you mean?” he’s taken by surprise.

“I’ve come to realize that I’d never be a genius,” you reluctantly explain. “So I’m giving up all my foolish artistic hopes.”

“Y/N, you cannot be serious. You have so much talent and — ”

“Talent isn’t genius!” you throw up your hands in defeat, and he can sense your frustration from a distance. “I may be talented in other things, but when it comes to painting, I want to be great or nothing. And I am only of middling talent,” you scoop up the brushes, give them a quick look and place in another jar to dry.

Aemond wants to argue, he really does — but he also knows better than to try and persuade you when you are like this: firmly standing your ground, exuding nothing but stubbornness. In any other situation, he would’ve found it endearing but it’s upsetting to see you downplaying your brilliance.

“Hm, may I at least ask your last portrait to be of me?”

You instantly turn to him, taken aback. Throughout the years you’ve known him, he clearly expressed that he did not like being painted, and you only could make a quick sketch or two, at best, when he wasn't paying attention.

“Alright,” the long-awaited opportunity makes you smile. “Next time I come for breakfast, I will drag you into the garden to pose for me,” you give him a pointed look, and Aemond humbly nods.

Your smile grows wider but you try to tone it down, afraid to spook him, and focus on wiping the nearest table.

“What are you going to do with your life in the meantime?” he changes the subject.

“Polish up my other skills and become an ornament to society,” you sigh, putting the cloth away.

There’s a brief pause before he says, his voice a bit strained:

“Here is where Jason Lannister comes in, I suppose?”

You say yes but the answer comes a little bit too fast, and Aemond notices that the topic makes you uncomfortable.

“But you are yet to be betrothed to him,” he clarifies, gaze fixed on you.

“I will be if he proposes,” your eyes meet his, and you are sure that there’s a shadow of disapproval on his face that only spurs your stubbornness. You fully turn to the prince to say: “I always knew I had to marry well, I do not feel ashamed of that.”

But Aemond isn’t looking for a fight — he swiftly corrects himself:

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. As long as...” — he can barely bring himself to say it — “As long as you love him.”

For the reason unknown to Aemond, his statement brings a bleak smile to your face.

“I believe we can have some power over who we love,” you object, lowering your gaze for a second as you start absentmindedly twisting the ring on your finger.

“I think the poets would disagree,” he chuckles, trying to defuse the unexpected tension.

But when you look up at him, your glare is as obdurate as ever.

“Well, I am not a poet, I am just a woman,” you rebut crisply. “And as a woman, I have no illusions about my prospects which do not include me earning a living to support my family. And my parent’s fortune has its limits as I've come to learn. Hence why, if I want to have children — I do — and be able to provide them with everything they wish for, I must rely on my husband,” that last word is pronounced with disappointment. “So don't stand here and tell me that marriage isn't an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you but it certainly is for me.”

Had he not known you, Aemond would’ve been very impressed — with how blunt and witty you are, you are very good at delivering speeches. But as he’s standing in front of you, watching your face, he senses that your determination is akin to despair. Aemond thinks he might take a chance at arguing with you, after all — but you’re both startled by a knock on the door:

“Lady Y/N, Ser Lannister just arrived.”

You look baffled for a second, your confidence crumbling.

“Why would he — I, I didn’t expect him today,” you mumble, almost ashamed of his arrival.

Yet you pull yourself together faster than Aemond can come up with a reason for you to stay. You remove your apron and quickly examine your dress, then move to put on a cape.

“Did I miss any paint stains?” you ask Aemond in a haste.

“No,” he looks over the flowing material of your neat dress, your hair knotted up high — and then: “...Wait!”

You stop abruptly while he grabs a clean cloth.

“There is something on your cheek,” he says as you both step toward each other — and in the next second you’re suddenly standing too close.

You turn to him and shyly shut your eyes, taking a deep breath. Aemond is frozen for a moment but then carefully wipes away a slight smudge of green from under your cheekbone. His hand unwillingly lingers as he examines the delicate features of your face. You open your eyes, looking at the prince questingly. His facial expression is unreadable but it makes you wish you didn’t have to go.

You brush away that silly thought and stand back, fixing your cape.

“How do I look? Do I look alright?”

“You look beautiful,” Aemond says with no hesitation, taking you in — with your cheeks a bit flushed, lip parted and eyes shining. “You are beautiful.”

You seem bewildered at his words but then a smile grows on your face — and in a blink of an eye, you’re gone. The prince is left standing there, staring at the spot where you were just now. The room suddenly feels so empty without you — and so does his heart.

The realization strikes Aemond like lightning: he wants to be the one you come to, at all times. The one holding your hand, watching you paint, or read, or dance — watching you do whatever your heart desires. Because his only desire is to be with you. That thought puts down roots deep into his chest, and he doesn’t know how to pluck it out.

Nor does he want to. It’s all he can think about for the duration of the week, until you come to the castle — with canvas and supplies, not hiding your excitement. He almost forgot about his promise but follows you into the garden without objection. You sense a slight change in Aemond’s behavior, him being more quiet than usual, but decide not to push the prince so he won’t reconsider.

“I will start with a sketch and then we will go from there. Alright?”

He just hums in response while looking at you but you are unaware of the meaning behind his gaze.

“Take any pose you like, I don't want you to feel uncomfortable,” you suggest with a half-smile, knowing full well he will probably remain standing.

And he does, arms clasped behind his back, his eye never leaving your face. You immerse in the process too quickly to be bothered, the piece of charcoal in your hand sliding over the paper, leaving lines and shadows. Drawing Aemond is an effortless task, and you can only enjoy how easy it is to sketch the sharp contours of his face and his lean body. The simplicity can also be explained by the fact that you've already memorized all the details by heart: the curves of his cheekbones and his lips, the flow of his silver hair, the shape and cut of his eye.

When you are finally satisfied, you can’t tell if it’s been an hour or three, and the prince, as it seems, hasn’t moved a muscle. At this point, Aemond’s demeanor does worry you yet you blame it on his nervousness.

“Want to take a look?” you hand him a few sketches. “Mind you, I’m not finished so please don’t judge too harshly —”

“I could never,” his hand brushes yours when he takes the drawings.

Aemond has seen your works before but it's a whole new experience when he's the one being portrayed. He almost doesn't recognize himself — you didn't miss a single feature of his yet somehow this version of him looks too beautiful to be real. He's at a loss for words until he spots that there's another drawing hidden underneath. It's a sketch of him sitting, both arms on the table, his face looks like he's deep in his thoughts.

“When did you do this one?”

“After the coronation,” the memory makes you smile. “Made my poor father lug around with charcoal in his pockets while he was trying to keep up the conversation with Ser Lannister.”

It was the day you got introduced to Jason. You were supposed to be by his side, with your charming smile and polite talks, yet you spend your time drawing Aemond. He can imagine your gaze focused on the piece of paper, the way you must've been looking at him to capture every detail and movement — all of that without him asking to, without him even noticing. There's so much care in that act, he is unexpectedly moved by it.

The words leave his mouth before he can think them over:

“Don't marry him.”

His request makes your hands tremble, and you drop the piece of charcoal, slowly looking up at Aemond, the smile disappearing from your face. He did not mean that, you must've misunderstood.

“...What?”

Aemond turns to you, looking you straight in the eyes:

“Don't marry him,” he repeats, helplessly and desperately.

“Why?” you ask in disbelief, suddenly having trouble breathing. The only reason you can think of sounds delusional, close to impossible. You wait for him to come up with some clever explanation — instead, he comes closer to you, his gaze so warm it makes your cheeks burn.

“You know why,” Aemond says and his hand gently lands on yours. You look down at it, perplexed, your mouth opening and closing, heart rate speeding up.

He keeps his eye on your face as he waits for your reply. You are not repulsed nor angry — which is supposed to be a good sign — but the reaction he gets is actually worse than that. Because when you finally glance at him, you look hurt.

“No,” you yank away your hand as if his touch stung. “No, Aemond, you are being mean, stop it,” you take a step back, your eyes glossy and lips tight. The look you give causes him physical pain — while you are trying your best to fight back the tears.

His intelligence clearly fails him because Aemond has no clue what’s going on. He feels like there is a deeper meaning to your words but he does not get it.

“Why am I being mean?” he asks incredulously as you slowly continue putting more distance between you two.

You don’t even realize you are doing it — it’s almost an urge to not be in his presence, for the first time ever. The weight of his words feels suffocating and merciless. How easy it is for him to toy with your emotions, you think, and that cruelty of his — as you see it — wounds you so deeply, he might as well put a torch to your heart.

“I have felt like everyone’s second choice my entire life,” you bemoan, not being able to keep your agony bottled up any longer. “In everything, no matter how hard I’ve worked to be better. I thought you out of all people would understand that,” you sound raspy, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“So I will not be the person you settle for just because your first marriage proposal was turned down,” only when your voice shudders, Aemond finally understands how wrongfully you interpreted his intentions.

But you are out of his reach already — at least ten feet away from him, and the distance separates you like a giant chasm.

“No, I won’t. I can’t,” you are hurting so much, your feelings spill out like blood from a wound. “I can’t do it. Not when I have spent years loving you.”

His breathing hitches as your confession pierces through his chest — and he is left speechless, deafened by it. The moment slips through his fingers with unforgiving pace: you were standing so close only a minute ago — and now you are turning your back to him, rushing away. The last thing he sees is how broken you look, your shoulders slumped and eyes brimming with tears.

Aemond stands, shocked and paralyzed until it’s too late — the garden is silent with your absence and the only evidence of you being there is your supplies scattered on the ground. Your words are ringing in his head, his heart heavy with a dreadful feeling.

He was afraid he would never have you — but he actually could have.

If only he wasn't so blind.

➡ Part 2

yes, this is me blabbing again: I’ve watched this movie an embarrassing amount of times, and I’ve wanted to write a fic based on it for a few months. I did rephrase a couple of quotes but still tried my best to do the story justice. my apologies for the angst — just so you know, it was painful to write. also, will I ever stop using friends to lovers trope? only time will tell! (I probably won't, though) I know there is a very heartwarming fic by aemonds-war-crime that was also based on “Little women” and it's only fair that I link it as well!

tagging @greenowlfactif because you asked 💙 comments and opinions are VERY welcomed! 🥺 🎨 my masterlist English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!

#aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #<<< PLS don’t be mad! I know Aegon isn’t the main character but he has a meaningful role #so I thought maybe I should add his tag too... (PLS DON’T BE MAD)#on a completely unrelated note I decided to start with dialogue(s) and then bring the backstory #I think it’s more engaging??? but we’ll see how that goes #also it was a conscious decision to start with Aemond’s side of the story — just so it comes as a surprise when she says ‘hey I loved you f #(I mean it obviously won’t be surprising if you saw the movie...)#ALSO I really hope you guys will want the second part (’cause I already wrote it lmao)#my stuff #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond one eye #aemond one eye x y/n #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfics #aemond targaryen fics #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen angst

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babygirl-riley · 4 months

Note

I was thinking of this, if you'd be willing to write it, something based on "Redeemer" by Palaye Royale where simon's s/o is depressed and suicidal... it's ok if you don't want to thanks anyway luv ya<3

Every Step

Reader is struggling with their mental illness

A/N: This is a HUGE trigger warning, if you cannot read any sort of suicide please do not read. It gets dark in this one. And Anon! This really broke me, this song really just wow! Beautiful and damn sad. Good one 🖤

“Will you please pick up the phone?And I'm waiting for you to come home. And I'm screaming all on my own”

Warnings: suicide attempt, thoughts of suicide, depression, anxiety, mentions of anxiety attack, mental breakdowns, angst, soft!simon, husband!simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

You sat curled in the corner of your bedroom. Everything seemed to fall apart in the last 5 months. You had a job you loved just to be let go due to company being bought, your rent was becoming overdue for a month, job hunting going South, your family starting to become more distant after the death of your mother, and Simon and you have been at each others throats.

You have tried to just smile and move on, that life will eventually piece itself back together. Mask your true self-feelings. Even when Simon had been around it was ‘fake it to you make it.’ Little to your knowledge that he noticed, mind you, it wasn’t always your fault when starting fights. However, it was most. He would ask what was the matter and you would blow up.

You never mean to, never wanted to, that’s just how it goes when you get into these ruts. Just not too long ago you and Simon fought, it wasn’t pretty both things from each other were said that shouldn’t have been. Not meant. It got to the point where

Simon left the house, didn’t say a word and left.

You threw things, punched things, broke things. Now you are here, curled up with bloody knuckles and a stained red teared face. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there. Everything ran through your mind of what was going on. What has been happening. Your mind trailing to dark places. It started to panic you slowly, things you have never thought of before.

You thought about ways to make yourself not here anymore. Ways to make the pain go away. You thought how everyone around you would be better off than to handle a bitchy person. Simon would. Your parents would. You friends would. No one truly thought of you as important or loved. You were only loved because it was an inconvenience to them.

You looked at your bathroom and thought about all the pills that were stacked inside the cabinet. Sleep then not wake up. That would be the best way. No pain. You got up to walk to the bathroom, mind racing on how rude and feeling like you have been fake. You shut and locked the door, grabbing each bottle and opening them.

You heard a soft knock on the door then the handle moving. “Love, let me in,” Simon started to put things together, he didn’t hear the water but he did hear pills. Panic rushed through his veins. “Open this door now.” He was stern yet soft at the same time. That’s when he heard the soft crying.

Simon backed up to kick the door. One. Twice. And it slammed open, he scanned the room as you were in the corner in the bathtub. He looked at the pill bottles and froze. Empty. He stormed towards you with panic on his face. “How many!”

You cried even harder. You shook your head, as he grabbed your cheeks gently yet firm. “Y/N how fucking many!”

You looked at him your tears spilling harder. “None! I threw them down the drain!” Simon stood up quickly to look in the sink, the cover go on the drain open.

You sobbed harder as Simon inhaled deeply. He walked to you and gently picked you up. You leaned more into his chest and sobbed harder. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You kept repeating.

Simon hushed you softly as he placed you on the bed with him following. Laying your head on his lap while he used his fingers to comb through your hair. You just sobbed and sobbed, it felt like hours until you were able to stop. It was silent. Dead silent.

Simon inhaled deeply. “What made you want to take ‘em?”

You sniffled a bit. “I don’t know.”

Simon’s heart hurt before remembering all the phone calls. All the ones he missed just to think it could have been your last. He knew that you were going through something, he tried to be there but you seem to push it off or push him away. “I don’t think anyone would miss me,” His mind lost track of his thoughts when you mumbled those words. “I have been so angry, so upset, and so not happy. I just thought that you and everyone else would be better off without me.” Your voice choked at the end as you sobbed again.

Simon felt his chest tighten, looking at his band on his ring finger. For better and for worse right? He couldn’t fathom the world without the woman he married. Has the last couple of months been hard? Yeah but both of you said in your vows, you would always be with each other. “Baby, I couldn’t live without you. It would-it would kill me.” Simon said softly feeling his throat closing. Softly gliding his finger over your stained cheek. “I’m sorry you felt like you weren’t loved or shown differently.”

You sighed as you started to calm down. “It’s not your fault.”

Simon slowly shifted you to look up from him from his lap. You could tell the worry and hurt in his eyes. The emotion that you caused, he frowned like he read your mind. “I think we should call your therapist.” Simon suggested softly rubbing your arm with one of hands.

You rolled your eyes sitting up, your back towards him. “I don’t need to see her. I can…”

“Baby you attempted...” He said his voice breaking a bit before sighing, he saw your shoulders tense then soften. He gently rubbed your shoulder. “Please.”

You nodded slowly as he heard sniffling. He stepped up and walked over to you kneeling in front of you. Simon’s expression softened even more as he watched you cry again. He rubbed his thumbs against your knees. You sighed and wiped your eyes. “I will call her tomorrow. Can you be next to me while I do so?”

Simon smiled and nodded. “‘ll even dial her up.” You half smiled and nodded placing a hand on his. “Let’s get food?”

You nodded and looked out in the hallway. “Can we eat in here and watch tv?”

Simon stood up and kissed your forehead closing his eyes. “Of ‘ourse.” He stood back having his hand on your cheek before grabbing out his phone. He glanced over at the door and the scene that was once live. His heart tightened. Simon will fight whatever demons you have, he won’t lose you. In sickness and health. He will be there every step of the way.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty modern warfare #simon ‘ghost’ riley #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon ghost riley angst #simon riley angst #anon asks #anon answered

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sc0tters · 7 months

Text

In The Alley | Mark Estapa, Ethan Edwards, Luca Fantilli, Rutger Mcgoarty

summary: when you are left on the closing shift that the bowling alley the guys who are left on the final lane invite you to join the most memorable game of your life.

request: sort of?

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, slight degradation (whore or slut are mentioned once or twice), swearing

word count: 3.17k

authors note: my brain is sore after writing this one but it was fun. That Luca plot was choppy because I literally had written 1000 words and rather than pressing copy I pressed delete. I’m tired rn too so I can’t be bothered to rewrite that part… with that being said I hope you enjoy what I wrote today!

You seemed to be the only one in the alley that didn’t care for the boys bowling games.

They had been there for hours and it meant that you had gotten through the majority of the book you were reading “can we get another game?” Mark asked pulling your attention from between those pages.

Quickly you shut the book as your cheeks grew flushed looking up at the boy “huh?” You furrowed eyebrows.

Mark smirked as your thighs squeezed together “another game princess?” He repeated his words as he rubbed his hand against his jaw “could join us if you want.” The hockey player added as he shrugged.

As you were on closing tonight you were the only worker left as the alley was meant to close in the next twenty minutes “wouldn’t want to impose.” You shook your head as you sighed running your fingers through your hair.

The hockey player leaned forward to snatch the book from your lap “Mark!” You groaned getting up in an attempt to get you book back “play and you get it.” There were only four of the players left counting Mark.

You sent him a pout as he matched your stance “fine,” the book was something you didn’t exactly want him to see as your bookmark was in the middle of a sex scene “add your name to our list!” Mark cheered seeing you the some things onto a screen before you followed him out.

Mark wrapped his hand around your shoulder as he smiled “you’ll enjoy it I promise.” he spoke into your ear sending shivers down your spine. Things had been weird between the two of you as you were in most of his classes on campus “nice to see you finally join us.” Ethan smirked realising that Mark’s effort to get you to join worked.

The boys had to say that they were surprised that by the fifth set you had yet to score anything less than a spare “I think you’re cheating princess.” Mark crossed his arms as he stared down at you.

You smiled as you shook your head “warned you that I could do this.” A string of confidence seemed to shoot through you as you took the spoon from his ice cream letting your lips wrap around it as you swallowed the cold vanilla goodness.

Rutger watched on as he let out a groan causing you to grin “you’re up freshie.” You motioned to him to take the space. You comfortably slotted into the seat next to Luca who hadn’t taken his eyes off of you “somethin’ on my face Fantilli?” You furrowed your eyebrows as you waited for his answer “nope.” The boys cheeks grew red as he realised he had been caught.

The game went on as Mark looked at you with a grin when you got your first 6 on a set “not as good as we all thought you were huh?” Mark smirked running his hands along his pants “uh uh baby.” He added tapping his thigh when you were about to sit in your own chair.

You listened comfortably situating yourself on his thigh “you want s’more?” The hockey player asked pointing to his new serving of ice cream “yeah,” you nodded letting your teeth sink into your lower lip as you looked down to see the bulge in his shorts that was quickly forming.

A smirk formed on your face as he scooped up some of the ice cream from his cup bringing the spoon to your mouth “open up,” the boy smiled at hop responsive you were to him “keep that in there until I’m back.” Mark mumbled as you wrapped your lips around his spoon.

The hockey player left you sat by yourself as he got up to complete his turn. As saliva built up in your mouth mixing with the quickly melting ice cream you were tempted to swallow and just get more ice cream “don’t even think about it baby.” Ethan warned as he sat across from you legs spread on his couch.

Your eyes went wide locking with his “be a good girl and we will reward you.” The Canadians words caused your thighs to close as your cheeks turned red “you listen to me?” Mark asked as he walked back to you seemingly happy about the eight pins that he had knocked over.

Your jaw grew loose as you showed him your mouth “good girl,” the boy smiled running his thumb over your lower lip “you can swallow it now.” He added watching your throat as you let the sweet goodness slide down into your stomach.

Luca cleared his throat watching the interaction “don’t keep her all to yourself Estapa.” The sophomore grumbled as he watched you stare up at Mark like he was the only man in the world.

You turned to the boy with a smile “there is enough of me to go around Lu.” In that moment they all thought you didn’t know the gravity of your words “don’t mind being shared.” Your confession made your cheeks hot as you stared at the floor “oh shit.” Mark had a groan that got caught in his throat “she’s a dirty little whore.” He blurted out leaning over you to grab your book that he had placed on the table.

Before you could try to stop him the page flipped open as his eyes traveled over the line you didn’t want him to read.

Elijah’s hands ran down my bare body “please.” I cried out needing more “be a good girl for me before James hears you.” He warned knowing that his roommate was in the room next door “bit late for that.”

Ethan had walked over to see what his teammate read “you want to be a good girl for us?” The hockey player asked smirking as you looked up to him with big eyes “all of you.” You croaked out the words as the bowling game now seemed a mere distance thought.

Within a couple of minutes your throat felt raw as it took in Luca’s cock “you enjoying sucking Luca off whilst Ethan fingers you baby?” Rutger cooed watching your hips grind against Ethan’s fingers “yeah.” Your words were muffled as his cock hit the back of your throat.

The Fantilli boy locked his fingers into your hair making a makeshift ponytail to hold it up “shit I’m gonna come.” Luca announced gasping as his vision grew blurry.

You weren’t far behind as you moaned “she’s not far either.” Ethan mumbled bringing his thumb up to play with your clit causing you to be pushed over the edge.

It was hot as Luca’s come shot onto your tongue “swallow it baby.” The sophomore ordered making you nod as you listened to him following those actions as you swallowed his come before you stuck your tongue out “good girl.” Luca smiled bringing your lips up to kiss his.

You huffed out trying to recover from your orgasm as your hips still jerked on the older boys fingers that hadn’t let up “greedy little whore huh?” Ethan smirked as you finally stopped your hips movements “shit Ethan!” You nodded blinking as you tried to focus.

His fingers slid out of your cunt giving your clit a soft tap “go easy on her.” Mark joked helping you up onto a couch “you good?” He asked brushing your hair out of your face.

It made your heart warm how he cared for you like that “yeah.” You nodded pulling him by his jacket “go win the game and I’ll make sure you come next.” You mumbled into his ear as you pressed a kiss on his earlobe.

Mark grunted looking at you “what do we say we get a competition between all of us?” He asked turning his attention to the boys who nodded “winner gets her pussy and runner up gets her mouth.” The hockey player licked his lips as he watched your bare pussy glisten up at him.

You nodded giving the boys the green light that you were comfortable with the idea “I’ll come back for this pussy soon enough baby.” Mark mumbled into your ear before his lips moved to hover over yours “gonna take this for now though.” He mumbled letting out a groan as your tongue slipped into his mouth.

Before Mark could get too comfortable he remembered that he was around the other boys causing him to pull away from you as he smirked Rutger had been watching you as his cock grew even harder than it already was “c’mere Rut.” You croaked letting your eyes go up to his face “want to give you some attention too.” You intended on tasting his cock as the mere sight of it in his boxers made your mouth water.

Rutger shook his head as he smiled “think you deserve another orgasm.” The sophomore shifted around you on the couch as he sat you on his thigh “such a pretty little girl.” He cooed as he leaned forward to capture your lips in a kiss. It was surprisingly more forward than Marks as the Jets draftee took the initiative to be in control “you like that?” It didn’t take Rutger long to feel the wetness of your core as it soaked up his shorts “yeah.” You gasped as your sensitive clit rubbed against the sewing marks of his pants “want to ride my thigh?” He smirked hearing the little jumps your breath made as it got used to what was going on between your thighs.

When you stayed still for too long Rutger let his hands land on your hips guiding you through the motions “it’s just us baby.” Ethan called out smirking at how your head dropped to Rutger’s shoulder “let us all hear and see you.” He added causing all of the boys to stop and watch as they waited for you to listen.

However the sensations that shot through body causing your nipples to ache and your mind to grow foggy “look at me princess.” Rutger ordered as you continued to ignore him.

To say that it pissed him off that you were totally focusing on your own orgasm as you were in your little world was an understatement “listen to me when I talk.” The sophomore barked as his hand slid from your hip to throat “sorry Rut,” your lips formed a pout as you melted into the pleasure that he made you feel.

Your hand wrapped around his as you began to focus to focus your hips on helping you ride his thigh as it occasionally tensed beneath you making you moan each time you hit your clit at a different angle “I wanna come.” You begged feeling the sensitivity from your first orgasm as you never fully came off of that ride.

Rutger’s jaw clenched at the thought “beg,” his tone was serious, fingers squeezing at the vein in the sides of your neck “please Ru-” your whine echoed off of the walls.

Someone’s hand locked into your hair making you gasp as he pulled your head back “he said beg, not act like a brat.” Luca scoffed as your chin titled towards him “please let me be your good girl tonight boys.” Your plea was like music to their ears as Rutger nodded.

Your orgasm made the boys smile as your moan was swallowed by Luca’s mouth as he forced it onto your lips “who could have thought that she could be such a slut?” Mark let out a grunt with his ego fully blown after getting his third strike in a row “it’s always the quiet ones.” You had two classes where you had both boys and you sat in the back corner for both of them, not letting out a peep usually.

Rutger smiled at you as your hips began to slow “I gotta go pretty girl,” his thumb massaged on the skin on your neck before he released your neck placing you on the arm of your chair.

It was attractive watching the boys continue to play through the game letting their competitive sides shine through “how do you want your prize?” You smiled as the game drew to a closing point since the results had been determined.

Mark thought to himself as he nodded “I want you bent over.” His confession made you clench your thighs together.

With tension in the room at an all time high you five practically blacked out and before you knew it, Mark was behind you teasing your clit as he drove his cock over it. Ethan was in front of you watching on as you continued to kitten lick his cock “want you to fuck my face E.” You announced before you let your lips wrap around the boys boner. On either side of you then to top it all off Rutger and Luca were stood with their cocks in their hands waiting for the heads up of how you wanted to deal with them.

Mark smirked taking the opportunity to thrust his cock into your soaked cunt “think she has thought about this before?” Ethan asked directing his attention to his teammates like you weren’t even there “of course she has.” Mark laughed digging his hands into your hips as your pussy clenched around his cock at the boys words.

You took the moment to hold your hands out to the younger boys quickly replacing their own hands that had wrapped around their cocks “fuck she’s good.” Rutger groaned as it felt like he was getting fucked by your pussy or your mouth rather than your hand.

Luca couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous as he would have preferred to be back in his original position that he had earlier on when your mouth was taking his cock instead giving him the chance to choke you with his thighs. The Fantilli boy knew that he was going to have to use that material as he thought about something to replace your hand with.

But another part of him wondered if he would get the chance to have you again, alone. Where your moans that you were letting Ethan’s cock swallow could have been heard echoing off of the walls. Sure this probably wasn’t going to be the best thing for team dynamics in the long run, but it wasn’t clear if any of them truly cared about that “god this pussy is perfect!” Mark blurted out as if it wasn’t for his need to keep you standing then he would have melted.

Mark had to admit that he had been eyeing you up since the third month of sophomore year, so if you were telling him from back then that he’d be fucking you in a bowling alley with three of his teammates Mark would have had an early death.

Your pussy squelched as the boy had his way with you “you feel me in there baby?” Mark asked pressing his hand on your stomach where his cock hit “fuck yeah!” Your words were muffled as Ethan’s cock but your throat.

It was a hot sight to watch as the four men used the girl with the oldest two getting off from your warm wet holes with Mark grunting at the way your pussy perfectly wrapped around his throbbing cock and Ethan was stood forcing his cock further into your mouth with each thrust of his hips. Rutger and Luca were both also taken care of by your hands that worked effortlessly to get them off as you seemed to focus more on the boy’s orgasms than you did your own “she’s close,” Mark announced feeling your cunt clench around his cock.

The hockey player’s hand went to your clit as he felt like he was close behind “we gonna make her beg for it again?” Ethan let out this laugh that was enough to almost terrify you as you truly didn’t think that you had it in you to form a coherent sentence “huh what do you think about that?” Mark applied more pressure to your clit to make you respond.

All you were able to do was shake your head as your knees began to buckle under the force of Mark’s thrusts “we can be good to her this time.” The boy proposed making your soaked cunt squeeze his cock.

Luca and Rutger were the first two to come as they swore you had done enough to show them the stars causing both boys to move to couches were they got to watch the climax of the main show “keep doing that baby.” Ethan groaned locking his fingers into your hair as the boy smirked seeing you look up at him with hooded eyes.

You hollowed your cheeks letting the boys cock find its perfect home in your mouth as you swirled your tongue around his cock “shit, shit, fuck!” Ethan repeated clenching his thighs together as his hands forced your head to swallow his entire cock as his warm sticky release coat your throat.

As his cock slid out of your mouth giving him the chance to pull your face up so that he could kiss at it “you want Mark to make you come?” Ethan asked squeezing your cheeks between his thumb as his pointer finger forcing you to look at him.

A cry left you lips “p-p-please Mark.” You nodded wanting nothing more than to come at that very moment “okay baby fuck!” Mark’s eyes screwed shut as he wished he had you in his bed so he could watch as you came.

You had already been so vocal but Mark’s mind wondered how you looked as your eyes rolled back in your head “right there oh-” your hands handed on Ethan’s shoulders in an attempt to steady yourself. If you thought that the American was going to slow down as you came then you were horribly wrong, in fact his thrusts probably sped up as he began to adjust to the way your cunt suffocated his cock “shit baby!” Mark threw his head back as his orgasm came shortly after yours.

He was careful pulling his cock from your cunt that not a drop of his come left with it as he was quick to use his fingers to scoop up any of it before he shoved it back into your pussy “what do you say we help her close up before heading back to campus?” Mark spoke reaching down to grab your panties so that he could help you back into them.

The boys nodded in agreement getting themselves all dressed. Your attempt at closing tonight was half assed but as you left the alley with Mark’s arm wrapped around your waist helping you walk back to his car the memory of that night was only going to live on in your brains.

Because whilst the alley would live on to remember this night as a one of a kind event, it wasn’t the place to reveal your secrets to anyone.

#mark estapa smut #Ethan edwards smut #Luca fantilli smut #Rutger McGroarty smut #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey smut #umich smut #umich boys #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

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number1jeonginstan · 3 months

Text

A/N: I got a little bored, then I thought about fem!Felix and then I got carried away, but damn I need her in my life, like seriously, someone get me her, or fem!Innie and Minho because damn...

WC: 1.5k

Pairing: Fem!Lixie x afab!Reader (WxW, if you don't like it, don't read!)

Warnings: Mommy Kink! Calling Lixie a whore once or twice, Kissing, dildo usage, fingering, oral (reader receiving)

“Hey, could I borrow a pen?” you asked the girl beside you. Her hair was in two small pigtails, freckles adorning her face. She was one of the prettiest girls you had ever seen, her smile radiating, she simply nodded, rummaging through her pencil pouch and finding a pen with a fluffy pompom.

“Here you go” she whispered before continuing to write down what your professor was saying. You smiled back before going back to your own notes.

As you guys were wrapping up, you turned back to her in an attempt to give her pen back. “You can keep it” she grinned, “it looks cute with you”

“Can I get you coffee as a thank you then?” you asked, not wanting her to walk away. “I’m Y/N by the way” you giggled as the two of you walked to the nearest coffee shop on campus. “I’m Lixie,” she said, her cheeks ridden with a slight blush.

“What would you like to drink” you asked as the two of you set down your bags at a nearby table. “Anything with a lot of sugar” she replied as she took out her notebook.

“You got it!”

You came back to the table holding an iced americano for yourself, an iced caramel macchiato for Lixie, and a brownie for the two of you to share.

“Here you go” You placed the cup in front of her as she took a sip you watched as her eyes brightened. “Is it good?”

“So good, how did you know what I like?”

“Just a guess” You placed the brownie on the table, already split in half as you sat down. “I brought this for us to share if you don’t mind”

“Do you like brownies?” she asked as you took a bite of your own. You nodded a quick yes, covering your mouth with your hand as you continued to chew.

“I’ve been told I make the best brownies, if you ever want to come over, I can make them for you”

“Really?” you asked, your expression a bit shocked. “Omg, of course, here give me your number and I’ll invite you over one day”

She handed you her phone as you typed out your number, you didn’t see the slight glimmer in her eyes watching you.

That was how the two of you’s friendship started. From that day, the two of you were inseparable. Whether it be going to the library together, or just getting coffee, or even going out to parties, the two of you were stuck like glue. It was to the point that you both had keys to each other's apartments.

You barely ever put it to use, but since you forgot your laptop at her apartment last night after having your weekly binge-watching session and she wasn’t answering her phone, desperate times called for desperate measures.

You entered her apartment, still smelling the scent of banana bread the two of you made last night as a midnight snack wafting through the air. As you walked to her room door, you heard slight muffles which you didn’t think much of.

She must be showering, you thought to yourself. You heard some whimpers and even the sound of your name, but you were in dire need of your computer, so you pushed past it, opening her door only to see her on her bed, hands pinching her nipples as she was riding a dildo, moaning your name.

“Fuck y/n~ need you so bad”

“Lix?” you gasped, watching her eyes shoot open, she quickly covered herself with her blanket, hiding herself. She slowly popped her head out, too ashamed to even look at you.

“How much of that did you hear?” she whispered, her entire face red.

“Nothing, I promise. Unless you wanted me to hear?”

You slowly walked up to her bed, lifting the blanket off her body, admiring it to the fullest extent. Her breasts were tiny, while her nipples were hard, just begging to be played with. Her cunt was soaking with the dildo still inside it. If you closed your eyes and listened, you bet you could hear the squelching of her cunt around it.

“Baby, be a good girl and get on the floor for me okay?”

She simply nodded, removing the silicon toy covered with her juices. Before she could put it anywhere, you told her to hand it to you, and she complied.

The toy itself was a bright hot pink, like everything in her room, and you felt your lips open at the look of it. She was easily taking this seven-inch thing inside of her. You were about to have so much fun.

She gravitated to the floor, kneeling in front of you, waiting for your command. She was fully naked, her juices running down her thighs. You let out a slight moan at the sight bestowed in front of you.

“Fuck, you look so good, but let’s see how you taste?”

You placed the tip of the dildo at your lips, groaning at the taste of her. You were already getting addicted, knowing that after you had fun with her, you were going to eat her out for hours.

“Taste so good for me baby, so sweet all for me”

“Just for you Mommy” Lixie replied, whimpering at the sight of you taking it in your mouth. She slowly began to press her thighs together, trying to relieve herself. You had come seconds before she was going to cum, stopping her from reaching her high.

“Aww, kitten can’t control herself, can she? She’s just a dumb little girl”

“Yes Mommy, I’m just a dumb little girl, please I need you, it hurts so bad” she whimpered.

You chuckled at this, telling her to get closer as you sat on the edge of the bed. You placed the suction cup of the dildo on the floor. “Be a good kitten and ride it for me okay” she simply nodded, slowly pressing the tip against her aching hole, moaning at the stretch.

“So big Mommy, feeling so deep in my cunt”

“Yeah, my kitten is a little whore, taking such a big dick inside such a tiny cunt”

“Yes, a whore just for you Mommy” she whimpered as she got back up before falling back down, riding it just like you had asked.

“Such a good girl for me”

You bent down a bit, capturing her lips with yours before deepening the kiss, your tongue dominating hers. Lixie began to slow down a bit, too entranced by the way your mouth felt on hers.

“What did Mommy say, can’t you listen to simple rules, baby?” You grabbed her ass, kissing her lips again before slamming her cunt up and down the toy with your help.

“Fuck Mommy!” she screamed underneath you, “feels so good, wish it was you who was inside me” she whimpered, her walls clenching around the toy.

“Don’t worry, Mommy is going to be inside you soon, but first you got to help me” You pulled down your leggings, tossing them somewhere in her room before grabbing her hand and running it along your underwear.

“Look how wet you make me, can you take care of Mommy while you ride your little toy?” you asked as she attempted to paw off your underwear.

“Yes, I can do that for Mommy” she whimpered, the toy reaching a specifically deep part inside of her as she shifted to try and take your cunt in her mouth.

You sat in front of her legs spread open, your underwear hanging off your foot as she dove straight into your pussy.

She was lapping up your essence through your folds as she was pinching her own breasts, moaning into your cunt as she kissed your clit.

She hummed into your clit before slowly adding a finger to your hole. You could feel yourself clench around it, she was so skilled, her finger hitting that gummy spot inside you with just a few tries.

You clenched even harder as she added a second finger, continuing to fuck herself on the cock below her, not slowing her pace down like before.

“So good for me baby, so good for Mommy” you moaned, grabbing her hair in your hands, and pushing her face harder into your cunt.

The two of you were so close, her moaning into your cunt while fingering you while the cock inside of her was hitting all the spots it needed to. It only took another thrust of her fingers and a pinch of her nipples for the two of you to convulse, your thighs squishing her face as a creamy white ring at the base of the cock beneath her came to fruition.

“Fuck Mommy, that was so good” she yelled as your thighs separated from her face.

“Who said we were done, baby?”

#ju <3 writes #ju <3 thoughts #stray kids #skz #straykids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #straykids smut #skz felix #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #lee felix #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #fem lee felix

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pink-tea · 1 year

Text

dumb blonde

☆ pairing: choi soobin x gn! reader

☆ nsfw, 18+

☆ word count: 4.1k (this number was honestly a jumpscare when i checked)

☆ sub! soobin, blonde! soobin, college au!, soobin with glasses <3, dumb blonde soobin, dom! reader, gender neutral pronouns but reader is afab at the time of smut, slut shaming, use of the word "bunny" once or twice, use of the word "slut", praise/degradation kink, nipple play

☆ the smart blonde has kept your attention this entire semester, but it isn't until your friend, yeonjun, offers you up to tutor his friend from work that you realize that really he's just a dumb blonde

you had always thought that the blonde boy in your class had a good head on his shoulders. always in the back of the lecture hall, either staring at his laptop screen or boredly looking through the assigned pages of whatever textbook you were currently reading. always the first one to turn in tests and quizzes, you secretly admired your classmate as he left the room before anyone else.

‘he must be really smart’ you would always think to yourself before spending almost the entire class time to fill out your tests. whatever method works best though, you always got one of the top scores in the class. it felt good, but you’re sure it would’ve felt better had you been able to finish a test within the first 20 minutes and get the same grade.

you never really checked or pressed about the scores of your other classmates—really only keeping in touch with two of them anyways—but you had always been sure that the blonde (used to be black haired) boy had done good. and it stayed that way until the first semester was well on its way to being over and finals were starting to plague the student body.

“[your nameeeee],” a voice cut through your thoughts, causing you to turn around and raise a brow at your older, pink haired friend.

choi yeonjun was practically a campus heartthrob, with pretty plump lips and irresistible, charismatic charm. you were well aware of that fact all the way up to when the two of you were paired together for a project, where you had almost cost the two of you ten points for forgetting to correctly cite your evidence on a slide of your presentation. you didn’t even get to apologize, promising to finish the slide an hour before the 11:59pm due date before you were on the phone with a hissy pretty boy who had pressed all the right buttons to get the stress you had been building up to burst.

the call had ended with the two of you calmed but still bitter, silently glaring at each other’s icons on the same slide as you shared the citation work load, and with a newfound respect for each other. you walked into your lecture the next morning with choi yeonjun holding an iced cup of coffee to you, a silent peace offering. you had smiled and promised to pay for the next one, and ended up leaving the class with a newfound friendship that had many people jealous of your proximity to the otherwise nerve-wracking boy.

thus, your current predicament, sifting through an otherwise empty library with your friend as you attempted to scavenge for any research material at close to 10pm at night. yeonjun came to accompany you after originally crashing your dorm to have fun and play on your switch before realizing you actually had work to do.

“yes?” you responded mindlessly, running a finger across the lightly worn spines of the books, worn more by age than actual use.

“you’re smart,” he started, prompting you to look at him suspiciously out of the corner of your eye.

“yes, you are too,” you hummed, not mad at the praise but more concerned as to why your friend was suddenly pulling compliments out of thin air. your gut told you one thing and one thing only: he needed a favor.

“i am,” he chuckled in agreement, prompting you to snort at his show of ego. “however, you, have more free time than I do,” he pointed out, which definitely made your suspicions start to rise.

“just because you do a shit ton of modeling doesn’t mean I have more time to spare,” you shoot back, growing more concerned at the fact that this started to sound a lot like a time consuming favor. he rolls his eyes at your words, mouth opening up to most likely throw a (light hearted) insult your way before he closes it.

fuck, he definitely needed a favor if he wasn't back talking.

"just spit it out already, i know you want something," you huff, perking up at the sight of the crusty textbook you had been looking for. you reached out and grabbed it from where it was smashed between two equally crusty books. you held it in your hand and opened to the title page, wincing at the audible crackle of the spine.

you could hear the eye roll you received, but yeonjun happily took the invitation to cut to the chase.

"one of my coworkers goes here too, and he helped get me my current gig since he knows the photographer," he explained, pausing to laugh at the way you coughed when dust flew into your face after flipping the next few pages. "but the thing is, he's a little stupid," he said bluntly, causing you to chuckle.

"poor bastard," you hummed, closing the book and tucking it into the duffle bag you were carrying with you.

"extremely poor, he's gonna fail the semester if he doesn't get a good grade on his final, which is why i need you to help tutor him," your friend finally finished, causing you to pause in your tracks before sharply glaring up at him.

"an unpaid tutor? are you serious?" you hissed.

"it's just until he gets a good grade on his final! look, i promised and i can pay you back for him," he reassured, pouting at the harshness of your glare. you groaned audibly before turning and beginning to walk away, causing yeonjun to quickly start talking again. "hey, look, it could be worse! he's a total cutie, so at least you get to tutor eye candy!" he tried to persuade, causing you to let out a scoff.

"junnie, you act like i'm gonna be fucking the guy more than i'm gonna be tutoring him," you deadpanned, causing a cheshire grin to spread on the pinkette's naturally pouty lips.

"who says you can't do both?"

now you wish you had never listened to this asshole and his promise to buy you takeout whenever you wanted till you finished tutoring his friend. because yes, his friend soobin, was in fact the greatest 6'1 piece of eye candy you ever seen. but he also seemed to share the same black framed glasses and blonde hair as the boy you had been fixated on for the past semester.

"ah," you let the sound slip past your mouth before you could even register it. probably less than a few centimeters away from knocking his head into your doorway stood the model your friend had been talking about. surprise not surprise, he was most definitely the guy from your class.

it took a few more seconds of gawking and the guy doing his best not to look too uncomfortable under your stare for you to snap out of it. "you're choi soobin?" you asked, tilting your head. he nodded hesitantly in response.

"[your name] [last name]," you introduced, watching almost in a trance as a shy smile crawled onto his lips.

"i know," he responded, causing your eyes to widen and your heart to flutter at his boldness. he seemed to catch on to what his words might sound like, eyes quickly widening in panic. "y-yeonjun! he's mentioned you before!" he added, ears burning.

you stared a second longer before smiling, stepping aside to let him into your dorm. "only good things i hope, but knowing yeonjun that probably isn't the case," you joked, watching soobin as he chuckled at your remark and stepped in. you couldn't help but just watch.

god he was cute...

...but damn did studying suck!

after an hour of what felt like running in a circle trying to teach this boy simple concepts that he should've learned like two years ago, you soon found yourself growing frustrated. sighing irritably in a way that had soobin flinching, you tried to put down your erasable pen as gently as you could without slamming it down onto your desk.

"if you're struggling this much with the current coursework, how the actual fuck have you been turning in your shit so quickly in class?" you huffed, patience already thin enough to where you were openly swearing to someone who was practically a stranger.

soobin visibly flinched this time, lips twisting into a sort of grimace/pout as his fingers wrung together. "i usually just guess...most of the homeworks and partner projects lift up my grade," he admits guiltily, quickly shattering whatever ideals you used to have of him in just one sentence/study session.

you laugh in disbelief, looking over his guilty expression as he sits in one of your spare chairs. "so what, you let people carry you through your classes and projects just cause they think you're pretty?" you shoot, soobin's eyes quickly flickering up at you through his lenses.

"what? don't tell me you think people actually help you cause they're nice," you ask in shock, the blonde shaking his head as his gaze drops back down to his lap.

"no, it's just, i didn't think you thought i was pretty too," he admitted softly, making your eyebrows almost shoot up past your hair line. ain't no fucking way.

"seeing that you can't even get 4 questions right, you've gotta be pretty for how much of a dumb blonde you are," you immediately scold, testing the waters to see if you're getting the right signals. soobin seems to shrink even more in his seat, fists curled in his lap as he lets his head drop along with his gaze. the angle lets you observe the soft red beginning to dust the tip of his ears.

"m' sorry," he whispers, the motion of his thighs squeezing together doesn't go unnoticed by you. in a bold move, you slide into his space, forcing your knee in between his and drinking in the startled mewl that rips from his throat at the aggressive motion. he looks up at you again, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

his lips are parted, you swear you can see them tremble a little bit and you don't fight any of your previous urges to touch the pathetic boy. smiling at his state, you press your thumb into his bottom lip, grabbing and tilting his chin up in the process. he gasps, letting his mouth drop open to let your thumb slide on top of his tongue.

it's wet and you bet it wouldn't take more than a few seconds for saliva to start dripping down your knuckle. pressing down on the pink muscle, you tilt your head down at soobin's slightly hunched figure. "you said you're sorry?" you ask, pressing your thumb down so hard that soobin almost has to fight the urge to swallow around it.

instead he nods hesitantly, eyes wide and watery as his glasses start to slip down the pretty bridge of his nose. you almost grin at the action, watching the saliva finally side down soobin's pink lips. removing your thumb, you take the drenched digit and wipe it across his cheek, pressing it hard enough against his skin for his head to turn a little.

he only has the time to close his mouth and swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth before he yelps at the sudden feeling of your hand in his dyed hair. soobin watches your smile turn into something cruel, feels his dick get harder in his suddenly too-tight jeans when he realizes you must think he looks completely at your mercy like this.

"do you even need these?" you huff, reaching to swipe his glasses off his face, making him flinch as you dangle them between your fingers. "i bet they're just for show huh, doing your best to not let anyone know how much of a stupid bunny you are," you accuse.

soobin's mouth opens like he's about to defend himself before it closes and his head droops in your hold, face burning brighter. "t-they're just for looks," he admits, the fact more humiliating than it should be. he should defend himself, bring up the fact that tons of people use non-prescription lenses for fashion, but his mind is still reeling from getting called a stupid bunny.

you do nothing to help, only giving him a short and disbelieving laugh before you're yanking his head back up to look at you. "hey," you call out for his attention, locking your gaze with his in a way that makes him want to squirm. "hurry up and get on the bed if you're really sorry for wasting my time," you say, tossing soobin's glasses to some unknown corner of your room as the gears turn in his head.

he's still frozen to his chair even after you release his hair from your hold, and you harshly nudge his growing bulge with the knee stuck between his legs. the impact makes him fight back a groan as he yolts, looking up at your glare with unmistakable puppy eyes.

"come on," you rush, watching as soobin immediately snaps back into reality and starts to stumble over himself to get up and on the bed. you want to coo at his eagerness, but suddenly grab his wrist as he begins to walk over to your mattress on wobbly legs.

"get naked first," you instruct, releasing your hold on his wrist. "and do it slow, right here," you hum, leaning back into your chair as you watch soobin's face grow pink in humiliation.

"like a strip tease?" he asks barely above a mumble, obviously mortified at the idea.

you laugh at his quivering voice, smiling and nodding eagerly. "mhm," you confirm, taking in his shifty nature and downcast eyes. "don't tell me you've never done one before," you accuse, suddenly looking at him through squinted eyes.

he quickly shakes his head, shaky fingers reaching up to grasp at the ends of hoodie. he keeps them there for a few beats before looking back up at you, hesitant. "s-slowly?" he asks.

this time you can't help but coo, fawning over how shy yet eager to please he is. "slowly," you nod.

soobin gulps before slowly beginning to take the gray piece of clothing off, revealing a delicious stomach that was lean yet slightly toned. as a model, obviously he'd have a pretty face and nice figure. your fingers twitch at your side as he starts to slowly uncover more of his torso, horribly aware of the daggers your stare is burying into his skin.

it's only when the end of the hoodie starts to slip over his nipples that you feel your initial plan to have himself strip crumble. you needed him under your fingers, in your mouth, gasping on your tongue. you stand up and start to close the small distance between you two, making him flinch and start to lower the fabric in his hands.

roughly, you grab the end of hoodie and tug it up past his nipples, making him gasp. holding it to his mouth, it only takes your voice to snap soobin out of his initial confusion. "hold this," you demand, looking at him with a look so predatory he can do nothing but swallow his saliva and close his pretty lips over it.

"good boy," you hum, now using both your hands to trail up from his v-line to his stomach. "knows just what to do, doesn't he?" you ask, raking your fingernails over the sensitive skin of his stomach as he looks down at you.

your gaze flickers up to meet his.

"answer."

soobin nods sporadically, catching the way his mind begins to slip as you fingers trail higher to his hardened nipples. you smile and the boy can only watch as you place your thumbs on your tongue one by one, slicking them up with saliva before putting the pressure on the pink buds. he jolts at both the feeling and the temperature, the saliva immediately catching on the blowing a.c. in your room.

he lets out a muffled moan at the feeling of your thumbs slowly rolling over his nipples, almost releasing the hoodie in his mouth when you add your mouth to kiss between the valley of his pecs. your sweet butterfly kisses trail lower and lower, your hands following down the minimal curves of his side as you go.

it's at this point that soobin realizes he doesn't know what the fuck to do with his hands, keeping them clenched tight next to him as he tries to refrain from touching you. he can't, however, restrain the full body jolt and muffled cry he releases as your lips press nicely against the hardened bulge within his jeans.

you take your fingers to unbutton them and pull down the zipper, the denim falling to the floor around him as you eye the obvious stain of precum against his calvin klein boxers. you don't give him any warning, almost causing him to cry out again as your hand slips into his underwear to tug his weeping cock out.

he's shaking by now, doing his best to hold himself up on wobbly legs as you lazily pump his erection. "pretty," you comment, admiring the flushed pink tip. "i guess everything about you is pretty," you comment off-handedly, making soobin's ears flush red before he throws his head back in pleasured agony.

harshly, you suck on the flushed tip, licking over the head to clean the precum seeping through his slit. you know he's fully expecting a blow job at this point, but with this you get off him with a cute 'pop' and tug his boxers down to meet his jeans.

standing up, you yank the sopping fabric out of his mouth, tugging the hoodie over his head and through his arms while all he can do is follow your movements. his last piece of clothing drops to the ground, and you give a happy hum as you look him over. pretty.

"bed," you say, and soon you have the 6'1 blonde laying down flat on your sheets as you look down at him.

you'd like to give him a strip tease in return, but the sight of him is so delicious that it gives you the patience of a starved man. soobin doesn't seem to mind, however, hazy eyes following your every move as you remove your clothes. when you get to your underwear, you pause at the thought of shoving them into his mouth as you ruin him.

one look at his pouted lips changes your mind; you want to hear every sound he makes.

"where do you want me?" you ask him, patiently waiting through the four seconds it takes him to form a response.

"on top," he admits finally, his fingers now finding themselves tangling in your now wrinkled sheets.

"on top?" you ask, taking your time as settle your naked figure on top of him. only, you settle just a few centimeters short of his chest, making him whine in protest. the weight of your body on him feels so good that he almost forgets to breathe, but this isn't what he asked for.

"what?" you ask, cupping his face as his lips twist into a clearly displeased frown. "is this not where you want me?" you tilt your head in curiosity, but your eyes clearly show how much you're enjoying it.

"i want- i want you lower," he confesses, brows furrowed and hands twitching as he fights the urge to grip your waist and slide you onto his cock himself. but soobin isn't a bad boy. he's your pretty little blonde angel and he knows better than to make you mad.

"lower?" you hum, making soobin's head drop onto the sheets underneath him as you slide your wet pussy down his chest and onto his abs. he can feel everything. he can feel you throbbing on top of him, but one look at your collected face makes him almost cry in frustration. you know where he wants you, you want him there too, but you're just being so so mean.

"[your name]," he nearly begs, eyes watering up as you look at him through your lashes.

"what's wrong now, tell me," you hush, sliding your hands down from his face in order to roll his pink nipples under your thumb once more, causing him to jolt underneath you. so cute, so sensitive. "tell me what you want," you urge, and soobin knows he has to be specific.

"i want you on my cock, please," he sobs, curling his fists tighter around your bed sheets. you smile down at him, feeling the words go straight to your clit. you know he can feel it too.

"how bad do you want it?" you ask finally, taking in soobin's borderline heartbroken expression at the question. but you're pleasantly surprised at the tears that start to slip down his cheeks.

"please please please, i want it! i need you around me, please!" he sobs, his puppy eyes going into full affect as he lightly thrashes in his attempt to lean up to get closer to you.

you stay silent for a few moments, eyes taking in the sight before you shrug. "can't say no to that, now can i?" you wonder aloud, finally grabbing his pulsing dick and sliding down on top.

you both groan at the same time, and when soobin shuts his eyes, you notice the stars in his eyes once he opens them back up.

you set a sweet pace, rolling your hips against his pelvis to get the both of you used to the feeling. you sigh in content, feeling pleasantly stuffed as you press your hands down on his chest for leverage.

"my dumb little blonde takes pussy so well," you coo, feeling soobin's hips stutter under you at the praise. "i bet he gets all his experience from letting any tutor fuck his dumb brain right," you add on, feeling his dick twitch inside your walls as he pouts.

"i d-don't let my tutors f-fuck me," he whines, rolling his head to the side as you start to properly bounce on him.

"oh yeah? am i not your tutor?" you ask, making him glance back up at you. "don't lie about being a slut, you're so fucking good at it, bunny," you scold, grabbing his chin to make him turn to you once more. there's more tears gathering in his glossy eyes.

"i'm not lying," he insists meekly, letting out a loud moan as you slam your hips down onto him and start to go at a painstakingly slow yet firm pace.

"you're gonna start telling me what i know and don't know now?" you question, tilting your head to the side as you keep eye contact. "last time i checked, my dumb slut doesn't know shit," you spat, pulling a whimper from soobin. "needs to fuck every one of his tutors so that they don't slap him silly for being so stupid," you continue, making him sob as the insults go straight to the dick he has buried inside your cunt.

"do you wanna get slapped, huh?" you ask him, taking the hand on his face to lightly tap at his tear-stained cheek. "i know you like getting told how dumb you are, can feel it inside of me," you remind him, making him let out a small 'n-no' as he turns his head away from your hand.

"of course not," you tsk. "you just want to waste my time and have me put you back into your place," you don't expect your words to have the effect they do, but soon you feel soobin's hands on your hips as he tries to lean up to you again.

"m' sorry, i'm sorry for being dumb," he cries, looking oh so cute as he begs for your forgiveness. you can't excuse bad behavior, though, snatching his wrist and pinning them over his head with one hand. you lean forward more, placing your other hand right next to his head to keep you steady.

"can't accept your apology if you're forgetting to keep your hands to yourself," you comment coldly.

"s-sorry," he whispers, shrinking into your mattress.

"wanna know how to make it up to me?" you ask, watching him quickly nod. he's dumb, he's sensitive and emotional, but if he's not the cutest sub--oh so eager to please--you don't know what he is.

"come inside, show me just how much i can fuck you dumb when i make you come over and over again," you explain, soobin's eyes going wide at the vulgarity. his dick aches painfully inside your tight cunt, wanting to fill it up with his orgasm however many times you want him to.

#sub idol #sub soobin #sub txt #dom reader #dom! reader #tomorrow x together #soobin x reader #soobin smut

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twinklelilstarkey · 11 months

Text

Tutor: The Talk

Words: 5.6k+ Type: Angst (not Rafe and Y/N) Summary: They're finally going to talk. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Arguing. Slight manipulation. Narcissistic behavior. Lying. Mentions of drug consumption and insults regarding that. Mentions of fighting.

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

Your first class of the day is finally over, and all you can do is sigh in relief. With your books held against your chest and bag over your shoulder, you are out of the classroom before you can even think twice.

The air in the hallways is better. And due to how quick you were, you were able to not catch the chaotic crowd that eventually walks these hallways between classes. Unfortunately, you still need to go to your locker before the next class, so it isn’t like you have much time to do quite literally anything.

Alone, you walk yourself through the hallways of the school you will soon say goodbye to, and after squeezing through somewhat crowded areas, you finally get to your locker.

You open the metal box with a small combination of numbers and do it quickly so you can rid yourself of the weight of the books in your hands. After that, you organize it a little better before reaching for the books for the next class, and all of a sudden, you see someone standing beside you.

You jump, absolutely startled by the sudden appearance of said someone and look over at the person, finding Kristy. Your hand is over your chest in a physical attempt to calm down your heart after getting scared due to her proximity, but that is when you notice the look on her face.

The one she has when she needs to talk to you.

It has been, possibly, three weeks since you have grown distant from your friends. Maybe it has to do with the fact that school is almost over, and you will all soon pack things up and go to college. But, except for the first days, you have yet to feel the longing for their disappearing friendship.

You cannot say you don’t miss having fun with your friends. Of course, you do. All of you were friends for the entirety of high school, and Kristy has been your best friend for what feels like so much more time. And, maybe, it had to do with how it happened: from how normal days, when you talked all day through school, turned into days when you practically never see them (nor wish to after a specific lunch).

You swear you can still feel their gazes from that day. Looking at you sideways as if you had infiltrated yourself into their table and were ready to listen to all their secrets and expose them to the world. When, in reality, you were only sitting with your friends. Or who you thought were your friends.

You blamed yourself for the entirety of the first week for what happened since you could've done something and forgotten it. Maybe you hurt one of the girls’ feelings once in a conversation and missed how much that one joke could’ve hurt them. Maybe it was your tone or the content of the joke. Or maybe it just got taken too far.

Whatever it was, you let go of your worry by the time the silence reached a week. You blame that part on your boyfriend and his friends, as the time you once had with your friends outside of school is now spent with him or them. You’re not sure if Rafe did it on purpose, but he had picked you up from that first day of the silence onwards. He listened to you, and maybe that was what made him want to spend more time with you. He didn't want you alone.

Right now, the mentality you have towards all of this is simple: if they have something against you and want you to acknowledge it, they need to speak with you.

You were done with the guessing games of what you could’ve possibly done wrong. Even if the possibility of them finding out about Rafe still hunted you.

Yes, in a way, it doesn’t really matter anymore because they do not seem to be your friends or wish to be so. But you know that any reaction that could come with that would not be positive, and it surely would hurt to hear what they would have to say about that.

After so many warnings regarding Rafe’s antics, you have grown to know if they were true or false or how they ranged from ridiculous to absolutely spot-on, even if you don't want to remember them. And you won't. Rafe has been doing his best, so you will do the same.

Rafe, as promised, has been staying out of fights every time you go out together. Even if that meant that he had to step back from a rather very random confrontation that appeared in front of him out of nowhere at some parties.

You watched him do it. You watched him step away and hold his hands up in a conversation with some guy you didn’t know. Stepping away from a confrontation that rose from a casual conversation. You acted as if you didn’t see it, but you felt proud when looking back at it.

Rafe has also been cautious with other things that could originate his anger or sudden fights at parties. He has never said it to you, but you have noticed how he keeps away from certain tables. He now prefers to spend more time smoking weed at the end of a party with Patty and Topper than any further drugs.

He has been working hard to keep up with his promise, and you don’t want to seem like the girlfriend that only hovers over him to see if he was keeping it in the first place. So, you stayed on your side as you saw all that he did occasionally, yet saved it in your heart too - where it is safely kept and able to make you smile at the most random of times.

And that is why you have decided to be done with the secrecy of the relationship by the time you finish high school, which is just a week away. You haven’t spoken to Rafe about it, but you know he wouldn’t care for that as the secrecy wasn’t kept on going to protect him and his relationships, but yours. (Which happened to crumble all on their own.)

Maybe it had been cowardly for not doing it sooner, but Rafe never pushed you to do it. You knew what could happen if anyone close to you were to find out. Kristy is one of them, but so are your parents. The parents who still expect and think so much out of you yet haven’t noticed how much their daughter has begun to hide from them - all due to the fear of the abandonment that could follow. It would happen. But you want to let it be when you have a place to be, and when you can find a refuge somewhere else, even if that is college.

“Hi,” Kristy says. Her voice is breathy, almost as if she was sighing her words.

“Hello,” You say back to her.

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Her eyes move all through your face, scanning every bit of it. She was trying to read you, even when you stood as confused as ever in front of her.

“Okay…”

“It’s about-”

She is suddenly cut off by your phone ringing. She stops talking and looks at your phone as if it is her absolute enemy. You look down at the screen, noticing that it is Rose calling you, which is more than strange. She only calls you about your payments for tutoring, nothing more.

“Sorry, I’ll be quick,” You tell Kristy, and she nods. “Hello?”

“Hi, honey. Look, you don’t have a car, do you?”

You frown at the question and begin to reach into your locker for your books as you talk on the phone, not wanting to lose any time.

“I don’t.”

Rose sighs over the phone.

“And do you have anyone that usually picks you up after class?”

You frown further, pausing your reaching into the locker. Should you tell her that her stepson is usually the one that picks you up from school? He does take you home after tutoring all the time, courtesy of Ward's orders. So, it wouldn’t sound weird, right?

One look at Kristy, and you shut that thought down right away.

“Usually my parents pick me up.” You tell her half a lie, “Sometimes I go home with friends. Why? Is everything alright?”

“I can’t pick up Wheezie from school for your tutoring class, and she needs to be tutored for tomorrow’s final,” Rose says in a rather frustrated and tired tone. “Ward will be in a meeting until late, and I’ll be in a meeting in an hour, right as I’m supposed to pick her up.”

“And Rafe?” You see Kristy tense up beside you, and you clarify more to her than Rose, “Can’t he pick her up?”

“He’s not picking up his phone,” Rose sighs, “Can you try to call him?”

“I can try, of course…” Rose stays quiet after you speak. “Also. I can always walk over to her school, and we can walk home. It’s not too far.”

Kristy perks up beside you, and you look at her, pausing your collecting of the books again.

“I can ride you home,” Kristy says to you with a smile, possibly picking up what is happening from what you said and taking her (right) conclusions.

“I have a friend that can drive me, actually,” You say to Rose before she can say her farewells. “She just told me.”

“Oh, thank god,” Rose exclaims loudly. She sighs after a moment of silence, “Truly, thank you, sweety. Text me when you two get home, please.”

“Of course.”

Rose wishes you a good rest of your day before you end the call, and as you do, Kristy is still beside you, waiting for you to finish the call patiently.

“You wanted to talk to me.”

You close your locker as you say those words, but she gets interrupted again, but, this time, by the ringing of the bell. Kristy closes her eyes as she takes a breath that can only be out of pure frustration, and you continue to look at her, waiting for her to say something.

“You know what? Let’s just talk whenever I take you to pick up Wheezie.” She says, guessing correctly the theme of the conversation on the phone, “We’ll have more time then.”

“Okay,” You tell her with a nod.

“See you after class,” She says before disappearing to get to her classroom. You can’t help but look at her as she walks away. She’s acting strangely, and you can’t exactly understand why.

(...)

“No, it’s fine,” You tell Rafe over the phone, “My friends will drive me.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is groggy, and you know for a fact that he just woke up. It was more than obvious that the entire reason why Rafe wouldn’t pick up Rose’s calls was that he was still passed out on his bed. He had told you about how he would hang out with Topper and Kelce the night before. The fact that he didn’t fall asleep on the steps of his home is more surprising than any of his sleeping-ins.

“Don’t be sorry,” You say with a smile, walking down the steps of the school to get to the parking lot. “What time did you get home?”

“I have no idea,” He says sincerely.

You two continue to talk as you walk through some cars in the parking lot. Your eyes are looking through every single one at the front, and since Kristy did not seem to find it reasonable to text you her whereabouts, you are completely lost.

Rafe gets to tell you all about his night (or what he remembers of it) while you look for Kristy’s car. You get to know all about how much he had drank, and how he, Topper, and Kelce had taken the safest route by walking home even though severely drunk. The mental image only makes you smile and wish to be there to see it, but that is wiped away from your mind when you see Kristy's car.

“I gotta go, okay?” You say to Rafe as you begin to walk to the car.

“Yeah,” He tells you, dragging his words with a very sleepy tone.

The call is over by the time you get to the car. You look around to see if Kristy is anywhere to be seen, but that is when she pulls down her window, inviting you to get into the car. You offer a smile as you walk on closer, and your hand reaches for the passenger seat's door. When you get the door open, you force your smile not to fall because another two girls are inside, sitting in the back and silently looking at you.

“Hi,” You say to them, hating yourself for not hiding the surprise in your tone.

They all answer you in different tones, so you face Kristy and the road as she turns the car on.

“Didn’t expect you guys to be in the car too,” You offer the explanation, even though, deep down a voice is telling you that you do not need to justify anything to them.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you,” Kristy says, and she does sound sincere.

“That’s okay,” You nod. “We can have our conversation later, then.”

“Oh no.” Kristy says to you, looking at you as she stops the car to safely drive out of the parking lot, “They can be here during our conversation. They just-” She pauses, “They just needed a ride somewhere else as well.”

The lie could’ve been spotted from miles away, as you know, of course, that one of the girls in the back does own a car and has easy access to any of her parents' cars. But you don’t say anything. You simply strap yourself in with the seatbelt and lean back on your seat. You’ll have Wheezie in the car in no time. Maybe then, the air will stop being so dense.

To your surprise, the entirety of the drive to the Academy in which Wheezie studies is absolutely silent. You expected the girls to, at the very least, exchange words between themselves, but not even that. Silence. Pure and utter silence. Bringing your mind all the way back to that lunch a few weeks ago.

Maybe you should’ve just waited for Rafe to pick up instead.

As you think those words to yourself, the car stops right at the front of the school, where many parents are waiting for their kids. You check the time and notice still have a few minutes of waiting.

In the silent car, you pull out your phone and quickly send Wheezie a text, letting her know that you're at her school and where exactly you are in the parking lot.

“So…” A voice breaks through the silence in the car, “Will you be going to your graduation ceremony, Y/N?”

You lift your eyes off your phone and look over your shoulder at the two girls. It was one of them that made the question.

“Yeah, of course,” you say with a smile.

“And the parties?”

You frown and turn on your seat to face the girls easily. You look over at Kristy to find her looking over at the girls as well. Her face is unreadable as she does so.

“I… I don’t know yet,” You say, sincerely. “Why are you asking?”

“Just wanted to know,” She shrugs, “I also don’t know if I’ll be going to the parties.”

You nod, swallowing the awkwardness in this interaction, and look at Kristy again and then at the other girl. They all exchange glances, and Kristy cuts the silence with a deep breath.

You look at her, knowing that the reason why the girls had stopped acting like your friends will be coming out of her mouth in seconds, but you notice how her face has suddenly become readable. You can see her nerves and anxiety wash over her completely as she begins to speak.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” She starts. “It all has to do with… The way we have grown a little distant. And I wanted to talk to you about this and be honest with you.”

Your eyes are only on her now, giving her your absolute attention.

“Okay…” You whisper, “You can talk to me.”

She offers the girls another look, but you don’t look at them again, knowing that it will be useless to do so. The conversation is not exactly about them, for the looks of it. They are just here… for some other reason.

“We know about…” Her hand waves around in the air, “About your relationship.”

You hold your breath, but you do not say a thing.

“We have known for quite a while, actually. For how long?” She looks at the girls for help, “A month, more, possibly.” Her eyes come back to you.

You stare at her silently, and even though you don’t know it, your face shows absolutely nothing of what you are feeling. Not the weird sensation of how your heart seems to be beginning to claw up your throat to your mouth, or how your stomach is twisting in cold, cold anxiety.

You feel stupid to ask, but you do so anyway. “What relationship?”

“Yours with Rafe Cameron.”

Reality sets in, and it seems like a weight you could never put into words. Like something you would only hear it ever being described in movies or books as a weird sensation of how the air has grown thicker to breathe, and your mouth has grown to be the driest of all deserts.

“Okay,” you say. Your voice is small and weak, but you aren't able to pick yourself up just yet. “How, uh… How do you know?”

“We saw him picking you up once.” One of the girls in the back says to you, making you look at her, “It was on the day of the blind date.”

The air gets thicker, and your heart speeds up.

“Okay,” you repeat yourself. “I, uhm… I don’t really know what to say.”

Kristy simply stares at you when you bring your eyes back to her. Her face has gone unreadable again, but yours is beginning to open up, beginning to show your confusion and frustration with only your expressions.

“So you truly are dating him?” Kristy asks you, trying to be sure.

“Yeah, I am,” you tell her.

“How long have you two been dating?”

“A few months.”

Silence comes back, and you are left to look at them as they try to hide their surprise. None of their faces has even a glimpse of positivity in it, any of it. It is just negativity and what seems like anger at some point.

“I- I don’t get it,” You say to yourself at first, but their eyes move over to you. “Is that why you stopped talking to me?”

“What?” Kristy asks, confused.

“You said at the beginning that this was about why we grew distant. Is dating Rafe the reason why you wanted to stop being friends with me?” Your tone is defensive, more than defensive. But Kristy doesn’t seem to appreciate it.

“No, I think we’ve grown distant before we began to stop talking to you, actually.”

“When?” Your voice is not as weak anymore.

“When you started canceling on us,” one of the girls from the back answers, which makes some anger rise up your throat. Do you really need to argue against 3 people at once?

“When did I ever do that?”

“You canceled on a few sleepovers,” The same girl says.

“You mean one sleepover.” You correct her without leaving much silence for them to fight further. “Which was the last one I was ever invited to.”

“Why did you cancel on us?” The girl beside her asks.

“Yeah, why? Were you with Rafe?”

“Possibly, yeah,” You say, annoyance beginning to be evident in your tone, “Can we please stop with the one-on-three conversation, please? This whole thing is ridiculous.”

“Why is it ridiculous?” Kristy speaks.

You look at her, and your anger burns further when your request goes ignored. Kristy doesn’t seem angry or frustrated - unlike the other girls -, but your anger is becoming obvious to her.

“Do you really not see it? You put me in a car with two more girls to question me about my boyfriend.” You sigh, “Not only that, all of you are asking me and accusing me of pulling away from our friendship when you know, very well, that it is not true.” You notice how Kristy grows defensive, “You stopped talking to me, not the other way around.”

They stay silent for a bit, and you lean back on your seat in disbelief at what is happening.

“I put you in a car because I am worried about you,” Kristy tells you.

Your eyes find hers again, and you look at her in your silence, but that is before you laugh.

“Worried about me?” You repeat, chuckling, “For having a boyfriend?”

“For your boyfriend being Rafe Cameron,” One of the girls from the back answers.

You’re left in another silence, and you can’t help but let another chuckle escape.

“And the way you show your worry is by… not talking to me?” You ask, incredulous at the information.

“You hid it from us,” the other girl says, defensively.

“Of course, I did. Look at what happened when you found out.” I tell her, facing her as I do, “Not only did you stop talking to me. But now I am inside a car, when I simply meant to pick up my boyfriend's sister, and am being confronted for dating said boyfriend.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Kristy asks.

“Because, Kristy,” Your anger rises. “Not everything that I do has to be reported back to you. If I didn’t see fit in telling you the truth, it means that I didn’t see a good enough reason to do it.”

“So we shouldn’t know when our friend is dating someone?” The girl asks.

“It’s not about whether you ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’,” I tell her. “It was my secret to tell. You don’t like him, I get it. I hesitated on telling you anything because I knew all of you would react badly… That is it. Just do not tell me that you stopped talking to me because you were worried about me. You didn’t even try to have a conversation with me about it.”

“Why are you even dating him?” Kristy asks all of a sudden, and you can’t even hide the confusion on your face, “Seriously. Why did you start dating him, then? You know we don’t like him, yet you still talked to him enough to the point of dating him. You went against all of our warnings, all of them.”

Your dry laugh comes back, “Why are you making this about you? About all of you?” No one answers, “This is my relationship with my boyfriend, who I chose to date. Why are you making this about you?”

“Because we are your friends,” One of the girls in the back says.

“No, you’re not.” You answer, “Not anymore. Not since you stopped talking to me for weeks with absolutely no explanation.”

And with those words, you hit straight on the nail. The girls go silent, and they simply look at you. All of them are conflicted, you can tell from the look on their faces. They don’t know what to say.

“And I am dating Rafe because he treats me well. He cares for me.” You answer the previous question, “There hasn’t been a day in our relationship when I thought otherwise.”

Kristy is the one to laugh now, “Right.”

“Right, what?”

“We’re supposed to believe you?” Kristy asks, her anger rising further, and so is the volume of her voice. Her words come out in a shout, “You’re talking about the guy that beat up your ex-boyfriend not even two weeks ago!!”

“Why the fuck are you screaming at me?!” You scream back at her. “I know Rafe did that. I was there,” You say at a lower volume, but your eyes are still widened with anger, and your heart is still pumping furiously. “I was there when he did it. Aiden called a whore, and Rafe freaking lost it. I wasn’t a fan of how things ended, but I resolved it.” You point to your chest, “I resolved it because he is my boyfriend, and the conflict had to do with me too.”

“Oh, so you’re a fan of all his fighting then?” One of the girls asks in the back.

“When did I ever say that?” I ask her. “I said I resolved it, and I mean it. I am not justifying what Rafe did, but he was drunk, and he defended me, whether I like fighting or not. He knows I don’t, and that is why I moved on from all of this by the time the week ended.” You pause, “Stop acting like he murdered someone in cold blood because he simply wanted to.”

“What more did you get to see, hum?” Kristy asks you, “Did you get to see him nose deep his coke as well? I’m sure you did.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shake your head.

“No, Y/N. What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Kristen screams again.

You stare at her, and you watch as her face falls right as she notices how her words have sunk in. You watch as she opens her mouth to talk, but she is interrupted by one of the girls who is less remorseful.

“What do you even see in him, Y/N?” One of the girls in the back says.

You whisper a silent prayer for patience as soon as you hear the question.

“A lot. I see a lot in him. That is why I am dating him.” You sigh, forcing yourself to calm down, “I don’t know why I am even arguing back to you about this. You have never even tried to know him and simply roll with what everyone says-”

“I have talked to him,” The other girl says, “I did. Last Friday.” The girl beside her corrects her posture as her friend speaks, “And he surely wasn’t kind to me.” She laughs dryly.

“Where, last friday?” You ask confused.

“After you all left a party,” she explains. “You were getting food, I suppose, and I tried to go over to talk to you.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“So Rafe didn’t tell you?” She asks.

“Tell me what?”

“That he spoke to me.”

“He doesn’t even know you!” You say defensively, hating how she looks at you. Almost as if offended that Rafe hadn’t mentioned her to you. “I was there, how did I not see you, then?”

“You were by a car,” Kristy explains, but you don’t look over at her. “You were talking to someone with a bag in your hands, and Rafe was paying. She,” You can tell from her tone that she is pointing at the girl beside her, “walked over to you to talk. Rafe-”

“Rafe stopped me before I could get to you,” The girl interrupts to be the one to continue the story. “He asked me what I wanted, and when I told him the truth, he told me that you didn’t want to talk to me and that I should just 'fuck off'. So I left.”

Kristy notices the lie in her friend's words, but she does not correct her.

“Why would he even do that?” You don’t believe her. “He doesn’t even know your faces.”

“Which only goes to show how he treats other people, then, Y/N,” the girl says to you. “He is not a good person.”

You don’t say anything. You simply stare at her, which makes her believe that she has begun to get a hold of you and your attention again.

“Come on.” She shakes her head, “You know this better than anyone. You have heard everything that people say about him. How he is, how he treats people, how he is when high or drunk.”

You still don’t say anything.

“It’s an act.”

“What’s an act?” You ask, confused.

“The way he acts with you,” The other says answers, “He’s trying to get you to like him, so you don’t see what is bad in him. He’s manipulating you.”

“You have to be kidding me,” You say to them, shocked by their words.

“He is! He-”

“You have never even met him!” You lift up your voice to shut them up, “How can you make so many things up when you haven’t even had a one minute conversation with him.” You shake your head at them, “This is ridiculous.”

“You think he isn’t manipulating you?”

“Manipulating me to do what?!” You get angry again, “Go off to murder people like Bonnie and Clyde?” You leave the question hanging in the air, “Why are you acting as if I cannot defend myself? Acting as if I am some sort of defenseless victim that will always fall in the hands of evil?” They still don’t answer, “Rafe isn’t evil. Sure, he is not an angel. Nowhere near one, to be exact. But he treats me well. He takes care of me.” You slow down your voice to make sure they hear it, “He is a good boyfriend to me.”

“But-” Kristy begins after moments of silence.

“Just shut up, please!” You turn to her, “What were you even trying to achieve with this conversation? For me to leave Rafe? For me to end things with him and go back into your arms and thank you for saving me from the beast my boyfriend is?” You chuckle, “You are unbelievable.”

There is some silence, but you continue.

“And if by any means, Kristy, if you want to talk about bad people, please take a good look in the fucking mirror.” You emphasize the word, “You were my best friend, and you wanted to protect me so badly that not once did you consider my feelings towards all of this.”

“You’re not being fair.” She shakes her head at you.

“Good, because that’s how unfair this whole conversation was… Interrogating me like I’m some sort of criminal, and all I did was date a person you don’t like.” The words are heavy to Kristy, “Talk about unfair.”

Before anyone could say anything else, the door in the back opens, and Wheezie smiles at everyone inside the car. All the screaming and arguing went unnoticed by every single person outside due to the tinted and closed windows. Poor Wheezie would’ve never guessed what she just got into.

“Hi,” She says sweetly to you.

“Hi, Wheeze.” You say with a small smile back to her.

No one dares to speak as Kristy turns on the car and begins to drive to the Cameron’s household. The silence is deafening to Wheezie, but she can sense the tension, forcing her to not say anything during the whole drive as well.

You only feel like you can breathe as soon as you are past the gates. The words repeat time and time again in your mind, making you think back on what each person said. What even was that about the restaurant? How did they know where you were? It does not make sense. That restaurant is nowhere near their houses.

By the time you get to the front of the large house, Wheezie is the first to jump out of the car and close the door behind her.

“Y/N-” One of the girls at the back starts.

“Shut up.”

She does.

You open the door and jump out of it. Kristy watches you as she bites down her tongue to fight back tears.

By the door of the house, Wheezie waits patiently for the glass door to open. Before it does, a figure steps into the porch and smiles down at the youngest Cameron sibling. Kristy cannot see who it is due to the light hitting the glass.

You close the car door once your bag is over your shoulder, but Kristy doesn’t drive away. She watches as the door opens, and Wheezie sprints inside after saying a few words to her brother. Rafe’s eyes go over to you, making Kristy able to see your forced smile even from where she sits in her car. His frown doesn’t take long to appear.

“This isn't ov-” One of the girls starts.

“Just shut up,” Kristy spits the words to her, making her do so.

You lay your hand on Rafe’s side as you walk through the door, and he looks down at you as you speak. The look on his face changes, and then Kristy watches him lay his hand on your shoulder.

As Rafe closes the door and looks up to find the car still in park, Kristy notices you leaning closer to him for comfort. She watches for a second longer before turning on her car and driving away.

God, I love to write drama.

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aemonds-sapphire · 1 year

Text

Acceptance

Summary: It’s your wedding night, so why are you knocking on Aemond’s door?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW. Virgin reader. Virginity loss. Friends to lovers. Consummation proof. Fingering.

A/N: You can most definitely read this as a stand-alone, but I do recommend reading part I, II, and III for some context. For those who have read each part, this is the final one. Hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 2.5k

To say you were nervous would be an understatement. You were absolutely terrified. But no amount of fear could deter you from the decision you had made.

You stood outside his bedchamber, the pit of your belly tightening in anticipation. Even thiugh there was still a tiny part of you that urged you to walk away, you didn’t.

Because you didn’t want to.

Your knuckles tapped the door twice and your heart lurched into a frantic pace as you bit your lower lip, attempting to keep your nervousness at bay.

It didn’t take long before you were met with Aemond.

He gripped the doorknob while his eye fell to your face first and then to your forearm.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, clenching his jaw.

Realising the conclusion he had drawn from the bruise that tinted your skin, you immediately shook your head with a chuckle. “No. I… tripped on my way here…”

He wasn’t convinced.

“Aemond… he did not touch me.”

Gradually, the tension on his face faded away, but he remained unmoving.

“May I?”

He stepped to the side at once, eye still fixed on you as you walked in. Closing the door shut, he paced until he was in front of you, bringing your feet to a halt.

You swallowed hard as you glared at the beautiful man with whom you had shared so much of your life. Lines were crossed and blurred beyond recognition. The friendship you had once share had morphed into something you had craved and yearned for.

Until tonight.

Until another man took you as his wife and severed that bond.

“What are you doing here?” he asked seriously.

You stared at him dazedly, feeling a jab at your heart. “He won’t bed me. He’s too drunk to bed me,” you said in a low voice, wishing to match his level of deadpan.

Aemond stood in silence for a long while before he crossed both arms over his chest, the linen undershirt underneath wrinkling.

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” he repeated in a final tone.

Your jaw quirked angrily. “You do not know what I’m here to ask.”

Aemond heaved a deep sigh. “I already know,” he said simply. “You are not mine to take.”

“So you’d have me bed him?”

“He’s your lord husband.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. In truth, you had considered the idea that he’d be reluctant in having you. He had done so many times before, but you had hoped this time things would go differently.

“I’m willingly giving myself to you,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady. “My father will demand proof of consummation and…”

He held up a finger. “So that is why you’re here.”

“To give you my maidenhead? Yes.”

But Aemond saw deeper than that. “And proof of consummation.”

You stared at him long and hard. “This is the one thing I have control over as of right now. I was forced into a loveless marriage…” your voice faltered momentarily. “I’m married to a drunken fool who is too out of it to perform his duty.”

Duty.

The very thing that shaped Aemond’s being and one not easily broken.

“I will not take what’s not mine.”

“Please…” you said, realising how pathetic your plea sounded.

An empty silence weaved around both of you, only disrupted by the crackling flames dancing in the fireplace nearby. A warm hand touched your shoulder and you flinched away from his touch.

“I thought… you wanted this…” you said quietly.

His eye narrowed. “What I desire matters not.”

“It does,” you said, letting your robe slide off your shoulders and down your body. “You know I’m yours to take.”

You expected more resistance from him, but you could understand why he didn’t. After all, it was a feeling you knew all too well. Craving what is given to others.

He took a step towards you, eye roaming down the length of your body as you undid your nightgown. Aemond held out his hand to touch it before tugging softly until the sheer fabric came sliding down and pooling at your feet.

The exposure and cooler air had your nipples harden and you shivered as his hand traveled down your shoulder and arm.

“Please, Aemond…” you said, fighting back the urge to cry at how desperate you were. “Please…”

It was already appalling enough to be stuck in this situation, but you refused giving yourself to a man who meant nothing to you. Even if tradition called for it and had people marry each other out of pure convenience, you deserved better than that.

Especially when you had Aemond.

His hand came to rest under your breast and you felt his thumb caressed it slowly.

“You’re tempting,” he said as if talking to himself. “Too tempting.”

“Then take me,” you offered, bringing your own hands to rest on his chest, allowing yourself to feel his firm muscles heave underneath your palms. “I don’t give a fuck about my husband and I’m certain you feel the same way.”

He gritted his teeth. “Not even Vhagar’s fire would match the one flaring inside me when I saw you with him.”

Your fingers gripped the hem of his undershirt and he quickly got rid of it, exposing his torso to you.

“You should have killed him.”

Aemond’s lips turned into a smile. “A very alluring prospect, indeed.”

His hands were suddenly on your breasts and you bit back a moan as he caressed you. You couldn’t help but to have your own eyes travel down his torso, admiring how his muscles rippled under his skin.

“I’m sure Larys Strong will find a way.”

Aemond snickered. “Please do not mention him… it’s a sure way to ruin this.”

By ‘this’ he meant his restrained cock that had your nervousness turn into desire. Trembling fingers gripped the hem of his breeches, but before you could slip one hand inside he gripping your wrist.

“Tonight isn’t about me,” he whispered.

He ducked forward taking your lips in his and your eyes immediately slid shut with a soft sigh of pleasure. You could get lost in his touch for hours. A simple kiss shouldn’t be able to have wetness drip from you, but it couldn’t be helped. When you felt a nibble on your lower lip and his tongue lightly tapping it, you promptly parted your lips and deepened the kiss.

Without tearing himself from you, he took you in his arms, lifting you off your feet effortlessly as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Aemond only broke the kiss once he reached the edge of the bed. He placed you on top of the soft bedsheets, bringing one knee to press down for support.

You suddenly felt very exposed and staring into his eye had a wave of embarrassment wash over you, breaking eye contact.

“Look at me.”

Sucking in a harsh breath, you did as you were told, pressing your thighs together to hide your desire for him.

Suddenly, he moved away from the bed and came back carrying your nightgown.

Confusion splattered across your face as dropped to his knees on the mattress and slid closer to you. He gripped both your knees and parted your legs slowly to reveal yourself fully to his gaze.

Without uttering a word be brought your nightgown to rest just below your entrance, tucking it slightly under your backside.

“You’ll need your proof of consummation.”

Oh.

Aemond then settled in between your legs, leaning into you to press a tender kiss to the corner of your lips, causing you to shift restlessly underneath him, very much aware of the weight of his body on yours.

Your back instantly arched your back as you felt his hard cock pressed flat against your folds, causing your clit to swell and throb in anticipation.

Aemond lowered his face to your neck, planting several open-mouthed kisses across your sensitive skin. Your eyes fluttered shut and a moan escaped your lips. His tongue slid over your pulse point, sending your hips to lift from the bed, further increasing the pressure his cock applied to your clit.

“Aemond… please…” you groaned, deciding you were too tired of waiting for him to finally deflower you.

But what you lacked in patience, Aemond made up for in incredible self-restraint.

With one hand he stilled your rolling hips. “You’re not ready.”

You huffed in annoyance, dragging your fingernails along his chest teasingly. But he was right. He was well-endowed and you needed all the preparation he was willing to provide — and you willing to go through.

After ensuring you remained still, he snaked his hand between your legs, raising his own hips to make room for his prying fingers.

He pressed a kiss to your lips before sliding one finger inside.

But you could take more than that.

And you were aware he knew once a second finger joined the other.

You gasped into his lips, breath shaking and wet sounds filling his bedchamber. The head of his cock would occasionally hit your clit each time he shifted on top of you, making your entire body shudder in pleasure.

He gave you one final peck. “Can you take another one?”

It was possible you could, but you didn’t want another finger. You wanted his cock to push through your maidenhead and have you be bound to him.

You immediately shook your head. “I need more than that… please…”

Instead, he curled his fingers inside while pressing your clit with his thumb, causing you to cry out, nails digging into his shoulders.

Aemond held himself above you, watching you intently as more head flooded your body and wetness spilled from you. You drew your eye open and realised his gaze was as a fire that burned down on your face

Your mind drew a blank and you felt your lower abdomen begin to twist into a familiar knot. It never failed to amaze you how easily Aemond could get your over the edge.

Knowing your body far too well by now, Aemond was quick to withdraw both fingers from inside just as your walls were starting to clench down frantically around him.

“Aemond!” you cried out in despair at the overwhelming feeling of emptiness.

He brought his fingers to your lips, smearing your wetness across them before tasting it in a searing and scorching kiss.

You moaned, rolling your hips into him once you felt him lower himself onto you once more.

He cradled your face in his hand. “Are you ready?”

You nodded right away in between gasps as he slid his cock along your slick folds.

Aemond heaved a deep sigh as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest.

With a slight roll of his hips, Aemond managed to get the head of his cock through the barrier. You gasped loudly you felt a sting of pain followed by the uncomfortable sensation of something rolling down.

Tears gathered in your eyes and you felt Aemond kiss each of the away with his lips. He wasn’t moving inside you and you were wholeheartedly thankful for his thoughtfulness.

The pain wasn’t unbearable by any means, but it was enough to have you sobbing lightly.

“We can stop here,” he said lovingly, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

You took a deep breath, mustering all the strength within you. “Keep going…”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

No.

But it didn’t matter. You had been waiting for this for far too long to back down now.

“Try your best to relax.”

Aemond kissed you again, but you understood it was mainly to muffle your cries as he sank deeper inside you. You tried to ease the grip around him, but it was proving itself to be harder than expected.

He broke the kiss with a growl, breath coming out in hot pants. “You’re too tight… I won’t… last long…”

Even through the pain, you managed to feel the weight of his words as your clit pulsed once again.

By the time he had buried himself deeply inside, you didn’t dare breathe for a few seconds, your body still trying to adjust to his size.

Your hands clawed at his back as you tried to ease some of the tension.

“Are you well?” he asked in between gritted teeth.

“Thought it would hurt more,” you breathed out, noticing he was struggling to keep himself steady. “Are you?”

He let out a breathy growl. “You’re squeezing too hard…”

It was clear that he wasn’t going to last long, so you squeezed one hand in between your bodies, applying a faint pressure to your clit.

“Move,” you urged him.

You needed to feel more of him and when the young prince slid out slowly and back inside, you felt the air in your lungs rush out rapidly. Your clit demanded attention and you didn’t mind to provide it, but Aemond would have none of that.

He pushed your hand away at once replacing it with his own, setting a slow and steady pace as your walls finally began to ease down around his cock.

The overwhelming heat and size of him filling the aching emptiness was something you never thought you needed. In no time, your muscles were clamping down around him urgently and the bedchamber whirled away into a blur as orgasm crept upon you, catapulting you straight into the middle of a storm.

“Aemond… Aemond…” you gasped repeatedly, feeling the muscles on his back flex languidly with each slow thrust.

Once more, you arched your back and your vision went dark. Spasms and contractions of pleasure washed down your body, centered around where where his body was connected to yours. Aemond had buried his face in the crook of your neck, no longer bothering to silence your cries of pleasure.

It took you a long time to realise he had pulled out of you and was coating your belly with hot streaks of cum, letting out the most alluring growls you had ever heard from him.

He slumped to the side, removing the blanket of warmth he had enveloped you in with his body.

You felt incapable of stringing words together for the longest time, merely trying to get your breathing to steady while feeling the rolls of his seed streaming down your sides.

Aemond was the first to move, gathering your nightgown in his hand, displaying a few drops of blood that had stained the fabric.

“I think I may have to kill your husband.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond x reader #aemond x you

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lexischococoveredblueberries · 4 months

Text

˚୨୧⋆yes, & i love you｡˚ ⋆— pt 2

velvet x FEM!reader

• one shot

• fluff

• light angst

after an overwhelming confession between your “situation-ship” with velvet, both of you take a break from being close. in the midst of your healing, velvet begins to come to a realization that — absolutely nothing is the same without you. frustrated and still deeply in love, in advance of deranged texts from a velvet that hates admitting her feelings, you as always attend a performance of hers that goes terribly wrong.

the girls heart seems to ease by your awaited attention — and yours seems to tense by the threat of trust. will she make up, or live by her same fears?

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。. ・.

VELVETS POV.

four months.

it had been four months since the incident between

me and her. was i counting? i didn’t know, i just

knew. the time that passed was slow, very utterly

slow, and each performance that came and went

i mourned knowing that there would be no smiles or

mutual shrieks of excitement backstage. and really, i

genuinely tried not to think of it — to think of her. the

more i pondered about her , the further i felt guilt and

vomit creep up my throat , and it didn’t matter what i

was doing in the moment.

i couldn’t act this this. i shouldn’t blame this on

myself, guilt and uncertainty can’t be the first thing

on my mind or something anyone could read off my

face. pretending to not care is my best bet, only

seeing her as a stylist and maybe a planner would

keep my career safe and drama-free.

my hands wrapped around a cup of orange pekoe

tea, my heart seemed to twist to the pit of my

stomach.

oh, but how the thought of her voice and hands had

me in a trance. oh, how it hurt.

nails gritting on the mug, my fingertips burned and i

jerked them away, spilling a small amount of the hot

fluid on my white vanity. grimacing, i scurried to find

a cloth.

the door to the dressing room then opened, and

there stood y/n, watching as i was searching. i looked

to her for a moment , only a moment, because god

forbid any longer i would start saying shit i’m not

supposed to.

clipboard in hand, she walked over to the vanity and

pulled a tissue from her pocket, beginning to wipe up

the spilt tea that would’ve started to stain if left any

longer. i watched her as she didn’t say a word, just

cleaning with a straight face. oh, don’t stare, velvet.

don’t feel.

she threw the tissue in the garbage can and looked to

me. straightening my posture, i brushed my hair out

of my face. “thank you.” i mumbled, beginning to

take clips and bobby pins out of my hair. the tension

and every physical shift of our bodies was

unbearable, like we were made of rust trying not to

make any sound. it was gross and unnerving and a

lump formed in my throat. sitting at the vanity chair

once more, the routine began.

y/n took my hair apart, running her fingers gently

through the curls and dried gel. she took micellar

water to my face delicately with cotton pads i closed

my eyes as this proceeded, though every cell in my

body told me to open them and begin a

conversation. but that wasn’t right.

everything felt out of place. shit. why? why couldn’t

things be normal? why was this a big deal?

not even realizing my discomfort , i let out a

strangled sound in my throat which caused her to

stop and look at me in the mirror. “you alright?”

am i alright no i’m not alright god i just want to apologize and hold your hand and be okay and be with you and be girls god god help me i’m sorry don’t hate me do i talk too much oh oh could you sm —

“yes.” i blurted and stood up quickly , grabbing

everything and attempting to keep my composure. i

didn’t look at her twice before darting straight out of

the room and stumbling down the stairs. the tears

were hot and flowing , cursing to myself silently for

being so pathetic.

i was my own worst enemy.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・

YOUR (2ND) POV.

you were aggravated by velvets behaviour. was she

ignoring you or trying to get your attention? being

smart or clueless? definitely not clueless. she was

smarter than that. you hated how you couldn’t tell

with her sometimes. but that’s exactly what drew you

to her — you could never guess. but of course you

didn’t let yourself get too wound up, it had been

almost 5 months since then, and you were so close

to being completely over it. over her.

or, well, that’s what you were trying to get yourself to

believe.

you arrived home around midnight after the

performance, in every way exhausted. once through

your door and in the kitchen, you went to pour

yourself a glass of red wine. you didn’t drink, at all

really, the bottle had been a gift , but right now you

needed something. after a long swig, you stared out

the living room window for a moment. then your

phone buzzed. multiple times.

picking it up, the bright light making you squint in

the darkness of your kitchen, you seen velvets name.

your heart skipped a beat as desperate messages

popped up;

“i miss yiu y/n.”

“everythimg hurrs without you”

“i can’t llook at f/c wiyhout feeling sick”

“i don’t know i hate feekings”

“thid sucks”

“will you tajk to me i’m sorry”

“i wqs wtong please don’t hate me”

her typos seemed to pull at your heart strings, you

opened the messages to look at them, but put your

phone down. you poured another glass. honestly,

what did she want you to say? oh, it’s no problem vel,

it’s not like you tore my veins out and tied them in a

bow then proceeded to wish i was someone different

then steal my oxygen with a kiss. nope. not at all.

a few minutes passed, and your phone began to ring.

now slightly panicked, you saw velvets name and

contact photo pop up. it was a picture paparazzi had

taken of you two that floated around on the internet,

which was you two smiling and laughing at a public

park that — you remembered, — you had dragged

her to so she could connect with something other

than a camera and makeup. she hated the photo

because she was in her “disguise clothing”, but she

looked as pure as ever.

you shook the memory from your thoughts and

picked up the phone after letting it ring a little and

brought the phone to your ear. you said nothing, only

waiting for her.

“don’t. don’t do that.” you heard a broken voice at the

other end of the call. you paused before answering.

she was definitely crying.

“do what?” you asked monotonously.

“not… answering me. as my — stylist, you should

almost always answer wh —“

“cut the shit velvet.” you snapped but didn’t raise

your voice. you bit your lip and you heard her

whimper quietly.

“i’m really trying.” she whispers that seemed to dart

straight to your heart. “y-you know that i am. this

shit is just — ugh,” she was talking about her

feelings. you felt that same pain in your heart from all

those months ago.

“velvet,” you started, leaning against your fridge and

deeply breathing. “i don’t want to hear this over a

phone. what you did hurt, i don’t know what i can

and can’t believe.” you choked slightly at the end of

your sentence. she was silent, but you heard her

sniffle. your voice lowering right above a whisper,

“if you really want this velvet; say it to my face. look

me in my eye and tell me what you want.” you

asserted.

you heard nothing but distant shaky breathing for a

moment. “goodnight, y/n. we’ll talk tomorrow.” the

like clicked.

you stood there a little while, gazing in the distance.

maybe that was the closure you needed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・

the next day…

and so the routine began again. getting ready in the

morning, drive to work, getting velvet and veneer

ready for todays performance… nothing new. and

shockingly, seeing velvet didn’t hurt as much as you

thought it would. you felt good about that. now

putting their makeup away , veneer and velvet were

talking.

“vel, are you sure you’ll be okay? you look exhausted.

maybe you should sit just this one out…” veneer said

cautiously.

“no, ven, im fine.” she claimed , lazily putting her

boots on.

“okay, but, you did tell me one time to always prevent

you from performing if you seemed unwell even if

you refused , so —“

“veneer can you just shut the fuck up? i - just - god

please. please.“ she growled , her voice softening

near the end of her sentence. both you and veneer

jumped slightly, and he looked shocked and

slightly hurt. he said nothing, and velvet got up and

left the room. you looked to him who continued to

linger his gaze out the door. he looked at you.

“can you figure something out with her? it sort of

feels like, i lost her.” he said in a concerned tone. you

said nothing, only slightly nodding to try and ease

his mind. sighing, he walked out the door as well. you

followed after a moment of pondering and headed

towards the entrance of the pit.

awaiting for the siblings near the left center crowd,

you started to wonder if velvet would actually be

okay during the performance. you obviously knew

why she was off, but there’s no way she would let

that affect her image. you hoped.

then it was showtime, and you watched as they

presented flawlessly as always. but there was

still something wrong with her. she wasn’t as

smiley and proud like she usually was in front of

her fans, she was smiling, but she almost looked sick.

you bit your lip and didn’t take your eyes off of that

stage. not even half way through the song, that

terrible fear commenced.

“shit.” you said out loud.

velvet seemed to lose balance as she followed the

choreography and her words mashed up. veneer

glanced at her with an obvious worried expression as

he tried to continue , but she was so off that it was

nearly impossible. she seemed to choke on her words

and she just completely stopped dancing, making

eye contact with you. the audience began to turn to

whispered and audible gasps. you could tell she

felt the eyes on her at how she looked around like

she commuted a crime, and before you knew it she

ran backstage. some people began yelling or booing,

veneer trying to speak through his mic to reassure

them that they just needed to take five.

you bolted to that backstage.

security guards and producers were gathered around

a certain spot, where you could make out velvet on

the ground , crying and yelling about something.

pushing through them, she spotted you through her

tears and swatted away people’s hands that tried to

help her.

“no, go, go ! “ she stood up taking in sharp, deep

breaths. looking to you, she tried to yell at the

security guards that wouldn’t lay off. “no! i want —

y/n, y/n take me .. home, i can’t —“

you were nearly instantly by her side, wrapping an

arm around her and taking her through the back exit

— at the same time yelling at producers to call off the

show. once you two were out, she had calmed down

a little as you let her lean against the wall. no words

were spoken as you removed your jacket and

wrapped it around her shoulders , and eventually led

her to your car. her in your passenger seat and you in

the drivers, you looked to her.

“was that about last night?” you asked, your voice

breaking the threatening silence. she looked down at

her lap. “that was about … everything.” she spoke

softly , almost too soft for you to hear. looking

forward, you started the car and left the premises.

the clock read 9:53 PM as you hit the highway.

“am i taking your way or the rest of the highway to

your house?” you asked. she looked to you.

“your place.” she answered. heart fluttering, you

glanced at her. “mine?”

“yeah. we should.. talk.”

and when you did arrive to your house, you both got

out of the car and headed inside, holding open the

door for her in silence. she kept your jacket on, and

you made your way to the kitchen, preparing her tea

that you bought specifically for her. out of nowhere,

you felt something on your shoulder blade and a

hand wrapped around your arm. velvet stood there

with you, more silence, as you made her tea.

quiet was important with her, you found. she was

very voluble and it was hard to have a gentle moment

with her, but recently you noticed she allowed

things to be silent. you didn’t complain.

you turned around to face her and she stepped back

from you, taking the tea you offered, but she just

put it on the counter. you didn’t care, all you cared

about was looking into her eyes. you began;

“what did you want to talk about?”

velvet gulped and shook her head. “y/n. honestly,

everything is so.. terrible. terrible without you. and

god i hate to admit that i’m struggling to live

without someone but it’s so true and — this is so

unfamiliar. it’s almost angering but it’s also sweet

but sickening and … and —“ she looked up at you

with wet eyes, her hands extended towards you.

“that kiss.. that kiss was real. and i know i said that

stupid idiotic comment that was very untrue because

i was scared and i was scared of our l-love but now

it’s…” she trailed off, looking to the side. “oh it’s just

so.. you’re so..” she looked back at you, hands

reverting back to near her chest. “it’s just..can

we..?” her head slowly nodding, you didn’t waste

another second to back her up against your counter

and kiss her firmly.

you took her hands that bundled near her heart and

brought them to your face, letting her ease her

palms on your red cheeks. your own hands

held her waist gently as your lips basically

locked on one another, a smooth rhythm comme-

ncing between you two. you felt her tears fall

and hit your cheeks again, and the connection

was reborn. this is what you needed — what she

needed. her hands traveled up to your hair as she

tangled them in it, yours pulling her closer to you.

smiling against her lips, she let out a quiet sob

inside her throat.

pulling away, you planted a few more kisses to her

jaw and neck, running your hands up her back.

her breathing steadied after a minute and you

both looked at each other.

“i don’t want to leave,” she whispered, her glossy

she’s peering up at you.

“don’t.” you replied, wiping her tears with your

thumb. “stay the night, let us love eachother. veneer

will understand.”

she nodded and smiled a smile you haven’t seen in

awhile; which automatically triggered another gentle

kiss. a brief moment passed and you broke it.

“we’re girls, and that’s okay.” you reminded her.

strands of her beautiful green locks stuck to her

wet face. velvet nodded and took your hands,

cupping them on her face.

“the hell was i thinking, i don’t want a man. who

wants a man?” she joked, having you both laugh.

“hm, your brother.” you responded and she snickered

loudly, dropping her head.

“god i love you, y/n.” she said , looking back up. your

stomach churned.

“and i love you, velvet.”

not another word was spoken as you both rested in

your bed, holding each other and sharing long,

intimate kisses as if trying to makeup for the time

you lost.

it was definitely worth the wait.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆

a/n: AHH CHRISTMAS !!! merry chrysler and happy holidays to my beloved fellow mutuals 💋 i had fun writing this whilst listening to waiting room on repeat ..!!! anyway MWAH ily guys eat up

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls veneer #velvet and veneer #veneer x reader #fluff #oneshot #trolls 3 #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #trolls velvet #velvet x reader #velvet trolls #one shot #fem reader #light angst

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arachine · 2 years

Text

— 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤'𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝

+ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: brat tamer! eddie munson x f! reader

+ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: mature

+ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: in which reader finds a pair of cuffs in eddie’s room...

+ 𝐜𝐰: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, orgasm denial (kinda), squirting, sassy reader, loser eddie :0

+ 𝐰𝐜: 3.1k

+ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this was a thirst about brat tamer eddie and hopper but i got carried away and focused entirely on eddie LMAO! so, to whoever sent in the thirst, i will be making a hopper version one of these days. but yeah, whore thoughts >.<

+ i feel like with eddie, he’s not as overt in his proclivity for brat taming as opposed to hopper. like hopper jokes around every so often…entertains the idea when you’re being a nuisance…but with eddie? it only comes up when you happen to discover them on accident.

“Hey,” you call out, your voice carrying over into the room eddie was currently occupying, “what’re these?”

The brunet replies with a brisk ‘what?’ without bringing his attention to your lingering presence in the doorway of the living room, hands too preoccupied with strumming the chords of his beloved guitar.

You stand there watching as he smooths his hands up and down the body of it, like he were running his hands over the pastures and plains of a person and not…an inanimate object. He’d always treated his guitar like it was his pride and joy, because, well—it was.

At an attempt to draw his attention towards you, you clear your throat. Once, twice, then another.

“Edddd,” you drawl. It comes out in a lilt, soft and sweet; almost like you were beckoning him, as a gentle mother would call for her baby. However, your persistent advances to get his eyes on you are to no avail.

“Oh, sweetheart,” eddie strums, “you are absolutely incredible, just amazing.” It’d be nice if those sweet words of affirmation were aimed towards you, but they weren’t. You were competing with an inanimate object, and to be quite frank, the damn thing was beating you by a mile. A tinge of jealously begins to form in the pit of your stomach when he goes from cooing to having a full on conversation. God, he couldn’t be more of a loser.

He’s taken out of his trance upon hearing you clear your throat for the umpteenth time in the last minute.

“Why’d’ya keep doing that?” He finally looks up, but before his eyes can fix on your own, he catches a glimpse of the item in your hand.

How’d she—

“‘Cause you weren’t paying attention to me. Thought I was the love of your life, but I guess this guitar that’s not even sentient’s got me beat.” You follow up with a small chuckle, as if to hide the fact that a teeny, tiny part of you maybe was a little jealous. And yet, despite the smile you feign, and the tone of your voice, Eddie senses a touch of jealousy? Frustration? Maybe even a mixture of both. Partially because you’re so easy to read, and Partially because you unintentionally let a little pout slip through. Cute, he thinks.

“So,” Eddie rises from his seat and saunters over to where you stand, “you were asking me where i got these old things from?” The sound of his boots padding across the floor create an ominous, heavy thud. He walks in a way that’s a little taunting—intimidating, and his smile only grows wider with each step as he encroaches toward your space in the doorway.

“Yeah,” you reply, “I wanted…I wanted to…” Now he’s fully in your space. The palm of his hand rests flat against the surface above the crest of your head. His boot clad feet are planted firmly in front of yours, and his face (which wears a smirk now), nears closer and closer to your own—so close that the warmth of his breath leaves zephyr-light kisses in it’s wake.

“You wanted what, baby? Some attention? Is that why you were in there,” his eyes shift to his room, “snooping around? ‘Cause you were jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous of a guitar?” You query, but he only replies with a hearty laugh.

“‘Cause I was touching her today. Calling her my good girl, my sweet girl—is that what you wanna hear too? That you’re my good girl? My best girl?” Eddie raises a knuckle to the skin of your cheek, watching for any minuscule changes within your expression.

“Shut up, Munson.” swiftly, Eddie pilfers the cuffs from your hands. Before you can react, the metal item is closed around your wrists, and then a loud ‘click’ resounds through the air. He’d imprisoned you in the very cuffs that you sought an answer for, essentially beating you at your own game. If that’s how he wanted to play it, then so be it.

“You damned—“ Eddie interjects with a tsk.

“Don’t be mean, (Name),” he places his hand over his heart, feigning faux hurt. “Good girls listen, and right now I need you to be quiet.”

The boy promptly grabs you by the forearms and pushes you inside of the room. He walks you all the way back until your movements are put to a halt by the presence of his bed. Without saying a word, he pushes you backward with the force of a finger, and waits until your body settles from the impact.

“What’re you do—“

“What’d I say?” You bite your tongue and don’t attempt to hide the sour expression molding on your face.

Rather quickly, he begins his assault on your clothes, stripping you out of your denim jeans with unbridled urgency. Next to go are your panties, but before he tosses them into the mess of clothes that vacate his floor, he sits down onto the bed, a creak of springs not too far behind. Your eyes are fixed on him and him alone. They scour every inch of his face, they scour his body, and they track every modicum of a movement he makes.

His hands slide between the crevice of your thighs, and he slowly spreads them apart as if he were handling something so fragile, that it’d break with the blow a breath. Your eyes are still set on his; they repeat back every small glance, and every blink, and they lower at the same time his face levels with your clothed cunt.

The blood in that courses in your body is scorching, you’re sure of it. Because the room is getting hotter, and you’re feeling dizzy, and now you’re growing a little restless as you anticipate his next move. Still, he’s unmoving. He’s just sitting there, with his eyes trained not on you, but your pussy.

There’s a wet spot growing darker and darker with each passing second, and it clings to the silhouette of your folds, giving Eddie a generous view of his precious target. Then, without a beat, you feel the plumpness of his lips on your core. He kisses it once, twice, three times before licking a long stripe up the center. The sudden contact makes your back lurch into the air, ushering a faint whimper from your lips.

“Eddie…” the desperation in your voice is palpable. He knows you’re growing restless, so he indulges you. The brunet pushes the cloth to the side and swipes a finger over your folds. The second he pulls it away, a tether of essence follows suit until it disappears completely. You’re so damn wet, and so damn cute with your knees apart for him like this, that it’s got him rock hard in the confines of his pants. But his intentions were to get you off, so, unfortunately, he’d have to opt for grinding pathetically into the bed.

Experimentally, he pushes his middle finger in, slides it all the way to the hilt. His eyes briefly scan your face; you’re looking back at him intensely, though, there’s a softness mirroring back at him—as if they were saying: ‘please’, ‘more’, ‘need you’. At least, that’s what he thinks, but his assumptions must be correct because your cunt’s sucking his finger in so tightly, he can barely pull it out. so, he doesn’t. He adds another, and once again, pushes it all the way until each notch of his knuckles disappear inside.

“God, look at you,” he breathes, “you’re so…” Whatever he says after is lost on you, because now his mouth’s latched onto your clit, and the shock renders your brain completely, and utterly useless. Jello, you feel like jello with the way he’s working his mouth on you. Very briefly, he sits up, causing a frown to form on your face from his absence. His calloused hands smooth up the pastures of your thighs, up until they reach your hips; and once they find the hem of your panties, he hooks two fingers under the fabric, pulling them down the apex of your thighs.

Now that you’re beneath him, fully exposed with your cunt front and center, he resumes his attacks. If his eagerness wasn’t compelling before, it is now. Because now he’s getting noisy, he’s getting sloppier, and the smacking and spitting, and popping sounds are reverberating off the walls. For a few minutes, this is all you hear, all that fills your head as he works you open with the thickness of his digits.

Instinctively, your hands move down to grasp his face but the tightness and cold metal against your skin is a stark reminder than you cannot. All you can do, is reach down and grab a tuft of hair from the crown of his head. A frustrated, strangled whimper emits from your throat. eddie blinks up briefly, then laughs against your folds.

“Awe, poor baby,” he mocks, “do you want these off?”

You nod your head erratically, sputtering incoherencies as his deft fingers thrust in and out of your wetness. His once agonizingly fast pace starts to slow, then he stifles his ministrations altogether, pulling all three of his long digits out. Eddie rises from laying on his belly and then settles on his knees. he smiles deviously before opening his mouth to speak.

“I’ll take these off on one condition.” You lift your head weakly from his pillow and mutter a ‘what?’ that comes out more exasperated than intended.

“You have to admit that you’re a brat and you wanted my attention,” the boy says matter-of-factly, sporting a smug grin that you wanted to oh, so badly wipe off.

“And if i don’t?” You counter, sporting a smug grin of your own—an iota of seriousness laced in your tone. Eddie only climbs up to your body, using the strength of his fists to hover over you.

“Then you just don’t get to cum.”

The statement sends waves of intermittent pulses straight to your core. You weren’t sure if it was his tone, or the fact that you could see yourself within the reflection of his obsidian eyes, or even if was because of the fact that you could feel him pressed beneath you, but you listened.

“I’m a…brat.” It came out so hushed that if it weren’t for your lips moving, he would’ve been convinced you didn’t say anything.

“What was that?” You sit up and slump against the headboard, the noise of metal clanging against metal being a loud reminder of your unfortunate confinement.

“I’m a brat,” you say with a little more energy, but still you’re not done. Eddie wants to hear you say it with more conviction. More, more, more. “And…?”

“And i wanted…I wanted your attention,” you admit, “i wanted you to touch me all day, but you were too busy playing with that thing, and not me.” oh, this is good. This is more than good—more than what he asked for, but nonetheless, it was something. And how could he hear his pretty baby’s admittances and not indulge her?

“Now, was that so hard?” Eddie asks. “I set a condition and you fulfilled it, now you shall reap the benefits.” Even amidst a setting like this, he never fails to say the most ridiculous things. But his words are of no major importance to you. All you want is to kiss him silly, and for his mouth, his fingers—his hands, to be on you.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up, Munson. Just kiss me.” The handcuffs drop to the bed with a silent thud, and soon as they do, you grab his face into your hands and kiss him. You kiss him silly, urgently. A peck there, a peck there, a peck there…you kiss him until all of the breath in your lungs is knocked out of the both of you. You kiss him until it’s wet, and sloppy, and heated—until your lips swell from the pushing and chasing, until the clashing of teeth and tongue become too much.

Soon, he pulls away and leaves a slick string a saliva connecting from your lips to his. He grabs you once more by the forearms and brings you to sit up, stripping you of the black sabbath tee he’d given to you months prior. It was more yours than his now, and it suited you better than it ever did him. The sight of your bare chest sends the blood rushing straight back down to his cock, he wants to fuck you so, so, so very badly.

For a final time, his lips find yours, and then they pull away, and wander down, down, down. They hover over the base of your neck, your collarbone, down the valley of your breasts (before making a pit stop to gently kiss your pebbled nipples), down the plains of your abdomen, and then stop at the top of your mound. This is when he looks up at you. this is when he says ‘i love you’ without even uttering a word.

His eyes depart from your face and close shut when he places the final kiss on your mound. It’s a little longer than the rest, like he’s been waiting to get here, to worship this place, and this place alone. As soon as his lips leave your skin, they’re on your cunt in an instant. He spares you not a second to prepare; he’s focused, unfettered, and machiavellian in his process, incredibly so.

“Tastes so good,” are the words that you manage to hear. You know he’s speaking to himself and not really to you, because every so often, he mutters something else under his breath.

“More,” you plea, pushing his head deeper until the tip of his nose brushes the opening of your slit. You can feel the vibrations of his voice against you, but you have idea what he’s saying. All you know is that he complies and gives you exactly what you want. As you stare up at the ceiling, chest heaving and falling uncontrollably, you feel the firsts of his fingers to enter you. It’s tantalizingly slow, disappears and exits in a steady rhythm. with his free hand, he clasps it under and over your thigh to keep you from fidgeting. The free palm finds solace on the bone of your hip before he squeezes it once, and then uses it to draw deliberate circles on the engorged bud.

“E-Eddie, you feel—fuck—so good,” your voice trembles in pleasure. Wisps of his hair fall over his face, and you grab what you can to form a makeshift ponytail so that he can see.

The last digit enters your cunt, and the delicious stretch that you were anticipating since his absence was finally restored. You’re sure you could cum just from this alone, from the mere pace his fingers set, from the places they reach, and the burn that resides when he pushes them all to the hilt. The air is getting thinner, and your moans are getting louder…there’s no way in hell you weren’t starting to get close. The final push is when he replaces his hand on your clit for his tongue.

It works in tandem with the thrusting of his fingers, and it laps at you angrily, like he were a man dying of thirst in the desert and you were the first droplets of rain: a miracle. The pink muscle dances and flicks with calculated precision. From your perspective, his movements don’t seem to have any real significance, but Eddie knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing—which is writing the entirety of his name on the expanse of your pussy.

E-d-d-i-e. pause. then, finishes with M-u-n-s-o-n. Maybe he’s crazy, but the second he finishes spelling out his name, your cunt starts to clench him harder and your thighs start to tense around his head. If you came because your body somehow knew he was spelling his name, he’d never let you hear the end of it; because in his head, in his mind, that meant that it recognized him as yours, and vice versa.

“‘M gonna…think ‘m gonna cum!”

Faster than he could blink, you’d come undone right on his fingers—his face. Your back arched into the air, forming a pretty crescent shape before falling limp into the plush of his sheets. He’d lifted himself from his stomach and sat beside your shaking frame, pulling you up along with him. One of his hands pulled your head to lay against his chest, while the other opted to rub comforting motions on the side of your arm. He watched intently as your heaving chest started to settle down, your prior ragged breaths now much more even.

You were so cute like this, all fucked out, barely able to open your eyes. The two of you stay like this for some time, basking in the tranquility of post-sex. Once you open your eyes, he immediately greets you with a snarky comment.

“Well, hello there, sweetheart. Almost thought you were a goner,” Eddie exaggerates, sticking out his tongue and closing his eyes as if he were a corpse. You sit up from his chest and turn to him, pinching his sides.

“Ow,” he soothes his side, “but on a more serious note, you will be washing these sheets,” he points down. You take a look at the sheets, and he’s right. Your essence stands out starkly against the color of his sheets, you’ve made a complete mess of them. Smiling, you offer a shy ‘sorry’ and then hide your face in the barrow of his neck. You can feel his hot gaze on you from this position.

“Guess i did tame you after all,” he gasps, “where’s the sass? You’re all smiles and cheeks now.” You lift your head from his neck and give him an indignant look.

“What? I didn’t say anything wrong!” You squeeze your eyes into slits. “The guitar wouldn’t be looking at me like this right now if I used my tongue on her…” He shoots in playful banter.

“Shut up, Munson.” God, he couldn’t be more of a loser.

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