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staff · 9 months

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Tumblr’s Core Product Strategy

Here at Tumblr, we’ve been working hard on reorganizing how we work in a bid to gain more users. A larger user base means a more sustainable company, and means we get to stick around and do this thing with you all a bit longer. What follows is the strategy we're using to accomplish the goal of user growth. The @labs group has published a bit already, but this is bigger. We’re publishing it publicly for the first time, in an effort to work more transparently with all of you in the Tumblr community. This strategy provides guidance amid limited resources, allowing our teams to focus on specific key areas to ensure Tumblr’s future.

The Diagnosis

In order for Tumblr to grow, we need to fix the core experience that makes Tumblr a useful place for users. The underlying problem is that Tumblr is not easy to use. Historically, we have expected users to curate their feeds and lean into curating their experience. But this expectation introduces friction to the user experience and only serves a small portion of our audience.

Tumblr’s competitive advantage lies in its unique content and vibrant communities. As the forerunner of internet culture, Tumblr encompasses a wide range of interests, such as entertainment, art, gaming, fandom, fashion, and music. People come to Tumblr to immerse themselves in this culture, making it essential for us to ensure a seamless connection between people and content.

To guarantee Tumblr’s continued success, we’ve got to prioritize fostering that seamless connection between people and content. This involves attracting and retaining new users and creators, nurturing their growth, and encouraging frequent engagement with the platform.

Our Guiding Principles

To enhance Tumblr’s usability, we must address these core guiding principles.

Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Retain and grow our creator base.

Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Improve the platform’s performance, stability, and quality.

Below is a deep dive into each of these principles.

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr.

Tumblr has a “top of the funnel” issue in converting non-users into engaged logged-in users. We also have not invested in industry standard SEO practices to ensure a robust top of the funnel. The referral traffic that we do get from external sources is dispersed across different pages with inconsistent user experiences, which results in a missed opportunity to convert these users into regular Tumblr users. For example, users from search engines often land on pages within the blog network and blog view—where there isn’t much of a reason to sign up.

We need to experiment with logged-out tumblr.com to ensure we are capturing the highest potential conversion rate for visitors into sign-ups and log-ins. We might want to explore showing the potential future user the full breadth of content that Tumblr has to offer on our logged-out pages. We want people to be able to easily understand the potential behind Tumblr without having to navigate multiple tabs and pages to figure it out. Our current logged-out explore page does very little to help users understand “what is Tumblr.” which is a missed opportunity to get people excited about joining the site.

Actions & Next Steps

Improving Tumblr’s search engine optimization (SEO) practices to be in line with industry standards.

Experiment with logged out tumblr.com to achieve the highest conversion rate for sign-ups and log-ins, explore ways for visitors to “get” Tumblr and entice them to sign up.

Principle 2: Provide high-quality content with every app launch.

We need to ensure the highest quality user experience by presenting fresh and relevant content tailored to the user’s diverse interests during each session. If the user has a bad content experience, the fault lies with the product.

The default position should always be that the user does not know how to navigate the application. Additionally, we need to ensure that when people search for content related to their interests, it is easily accessible without any confusing limitations or unexpected roadblocks in their journey.

Being a 15-year-old brand is tough because the brand carries the baggage of a person’s preconceived impressions of Tumblr. On average, a user only sees 25 posts per session, so the first 25 posts have to convey the value of Tumblr: it is a vibrant community with lots of untapped potential. We never want to leave the user believing that Tumblr is a place that is stale and not relevant.

Actions & Next Steps

Deliver great content each time the app is opened.

Make it easier for users to understand where the vibrant communities on Tumblr are.

Improve our algorithmic ranking capabilities across all feeds.

Principle 3: Facilitate easier user participation in conversations.

Part of Tumblr’s charm lies in its capacity to showcase the evolution of conversations and the clever remarks found within reblog chains and replies. Engaging in these discussions should be enjoyable and effortless.

Unfortunately, the current way that conversations work on Tumblr across replies and reblogs is confusing for new users. The limitations around engaging with individual reblogs, replies only applying to the original post, and the inability to easily follow threaded conversations make it difficult for users to join the conversation.

Actions & Next Steps

Address the confusion within replies and reblogs.

Improve the conversational posting features around replies and reblogs.

Allow engagements on individual replies and reblogs.

Make it easier for users to follow the various conversation paths within a reblog thread.

Remove clutter in the conversation by collapsing reblog threads.

Explore the feasibility of removing duplicate reblogs within a user’s Following feed.

Principle 4: Retain and grow our creator base.

Creators are essential to the Tumblr community. However, we haven’t always had a consistent and coordinated effort around retaining, nurturing, and growing our creator base.

Being a new creator on Tumblr can be intimidating, with a high likelihood of leaving or disappointment upon sharing creations without receiving engagement or feedback. We need to ensure that we have the expected creator tools and foster the rewarding feedback loops that keep creators around and enable them to thrive.

The lack of feedback stems from the outdated decision to only show content from followed blogs on the main dashboard feed (“Following”), perpetuating a cycle where popular blogs continue to gain more visibility at the expense of helping new creators. To address this, we need to prioritize supporting and nurturing the growth of new creators on the platform.

It is also imperative that creators, like everyone on Tumblr, feel safe and in control of their experience. Whether it be an ask from the community or engagement on a post, being successful on Tumblr should never feel like a punishing experience.

Actions & Next Steps

Get creators’ new content in front of people who are interested in it.

Improve the feedback loop for creators, incentivizing them to continue posting.

Build mechanisms to protect creators from being spammed by notifications when they go viral.

Expand ways to co-create content, such as by adding the capability to embed Tumblr links in posts.

Principle 5: Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr.

Push notifications and emails are essential tools to increase user engagement, improve user retention, and facilitate content discovery. Our strategy of reaching out to you, the user, should be well-coordinated across product, commercial, and marketing teams.

Our messaging strategy needs to be personalized and adapt to a user’s shifting interests. Our messages should keep users in the know on the latest activity in their community, as well as keeping Tumblr top of mind as the place to go for witty takes and remixes of the latest shows and real-life events.

Most importantly, our messages should be thoughtful and should never come across as spammy.

Actions & Next Steps

Conduct an audit of our messaging strategy.

Address the issue of notifications getting too noisy; throttle, collapse or mute notifications where necessary.

Identify opportunities for personalization within our email messages.

Test what the right daily push notification limit is.

Send emails when a user has push notifications switched off.

Principle 6: Performance, stability and quality.

The stability and performance of our mobile apps have declined. There is a large backlog of production issues, with more bugs created than resolved over the last 300 days. If this continues, roughly one new unresolved production issue will be created every two days. Apps and backend systems that work well and don't crash are the foundation of a great Tumblr experience. Improving performance, stability, and quality will help us achieve sustainable operations for Tumblr.

Improve performance and stability: deliver crash-free, responsive, and fast-loading apps on Android, iOS, and web.

Improve quality: deliver the highest quality Tumblr experience to our users.

Move faster: provide APIs and services to unblock core product initiatives and launch new features coming out of Labs.

Conclusion

Our mission has always been to empower the world’s creators. We are wholly committed to ensuring Tumblr evolves in a way that supports our current users while improving areas that attract new creators, artists, and users. You deserve a digital home that works for you. You deserve the best tools and features to connect with your communities on a platform that prioritizes the easy discoverability of high-quality content. This is an invigorating time for Tumblr, and we couldn’t be more excited about our current strategy.

#tumblr #engineering #core product strategy

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the-doomed-witch · 3 months

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SLUT!

WandaNat x AFAB!GN!Reader

Summary: Daddy and mommy need their toy.

Word Count: ≈0.9k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. Just pwp, double penetration, cum filled straps (r receiving), breeding kink, gagging, degradation, sort of objectification, reader is wearing a collar, daddy (n), mommy (w), sub!reader, Wanda just can’t keep her hands off lol

Author’s Note: Long time no see, folks. Here’s some smut because I haven’t written in months. I just use this blog as a means to honrypost but in a fanfic way. Hope you all like this. Reblogs/comments are much welcome & appreciated <3 GIF credits to creators

MASTERLIST // NAVIGATION // REQUESTS CLOSED

— ✦ —

“Easy, baby, easy,” Wanda whispers as she bottoms out inside you. Her slender fingers tug at the small black collar around your neck, the fingertips tickling your skin. The sensation of being so filled makes you whimper and moan at the top of your voice.

“You’re not making it easier for daddy, now shush. Don’t move, just a little more.” Natasha orders from behind you, her strap waiting to penetrate you. She grabs the side of your hips to hold them in place, and stretches them open for her convenience. “Please, daddy, I can’t…” you protest, but Wanda tugs at your collar harshly, almost making you choke on your own spit. “Shhh darling, let mommy and daddy play with their slut,” she speaks right into your ear and bites the earlobe.

And when Natasha’s strap is inside your ass, your groans intensify with the feeling of being so thoroughly penetrated. Thrust thrust thrust, the two women absolutely devour your holes.

From behind you, Natasha kisses the side of your neck, biting down on the skin. Your head is thrown back as soon as you feel the sinking teeth indenting your skin. Wanda pounds your throbbing cunt, the wet slick running down your thigh. “Taking mommy’s cock so well, baby,” she speaks hushedly, “Just like the dick riding whore that you are.”

The mere words tighten a knot inside your belly.

“And daddy’s too,” Natasha murmurs in your other ear, as she thrusts the strap more violently. Her hips are in sync with Wanda’s, both cocks being shoved inside your holes at the same time. Your hands grab Wanda’s waist, scratching her bare skin with the tight grip of your nails.

Your groans get progressively louder, as your butt cheeks bounce with the vehement fucking. Natasha keeps whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and Wanda hums to Natasha fantasies and words in the other. Your body is wholly consumed by the two women you feel the utmost passion for.

You pleadingly look at Wanda’s face on your side, silently begging for release. “What’s that baby? Wanna cum for mommy?”

You nod eagerly in reply, thinking that maybe this time, you could cum without any more resistance. Deep down, you wanted to be denied as well, though.

Natasha turns your face towards herself, holding your chin firmly. “Not yet, baby. Let daddy play with her fucktoy. You’re so tight around daddy’s cock.” Without much warning, two of her fingers part your lips and choke your throat, while Wanda pulls the collar around your neck. Your nails dig deeper into Wanda’s skin.

Wanda uses her other hand to pinch your nipple, and flicks the hardened bud to stimulate your entire nervous system. God it feels so good. Beads of sweat run down your bodies, and the dark room is getting hotter by the minute. The knot inside your belly keeps tightening.

Once satisfied with the gagging, Natasha retracts her digits from your mouth, a coat of saliva dripping around them. She uses the same fingers to flick your clit in circular motions.

With a hoarse voice, you beg once again, “Please, daddy, please mommy, want to cum, please.” You can feel your pussy clenching around the dick.

They both exchange a glance and give you a smirk. “Cum for mommy and daddy, slut,” Wanda instructs authoritatively. As soon as you feel yourself reach your climax, both of the straps ejaculate inside of you. The warm liquids of your bodies infuse your pussy and your ass, and drip down from the base of the strap-ons.

After one final thrust, Natasha pulls out, letting you fall back in her arms. But Wanda is too focused into dumping all the liquids inside you, that she fucks the trickling cum back into your cunt. “Mommy please… hurts…”

“Easy darling, mommy just wants you to be her little cum dump,” Natasha whispers from behind you. Both her hands cup your breasts, groping them gently with her palms. You keep whimpering and squirming, till Wanda slows down and pulls the faux dick out.

Her breathing is heavy after the intense fucking, so she closes her eyes and smiles, wiping the sweat off her forehead. She immediately leaps forward to kiss you sloppily, almost tossing you, as well as Natasha, over. She watches the two of you make out adoringly but doesn’t resist grasping Wanda’s jaw and kissing her too. Her hands do not move away from your tits, softly kneading them as you lean back against her, taking a deep breath.

Wanda rubs your clit softly, now a swollen nub. The action jolts your whole body as her fingers churn up the exuding juices from your pussy. You moan incoherently, mumbling for her to stop. “Daddy please…” you plead to Natasha as well. They both pull away from the kiss and smirk at you, and Wanda ceases her fingering.

You look at Natasha, head tilted towards your left. Her gaze catches yours in the moment, as you both pant heavily. Your fingers entwine with Natasha’s hair, tucking it back and planting a smooch on her lips. Towards your right, waits Wanda, for her turn too.

It just all makes more sense without words.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #Wanda maximoff x you #Wanda maximoff x y/n #Wanda maximoff smut #Natasha Romanoff #Natasha romanoff x reader #Natasha romanoff x you #Natasha romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff smut #wandanat #wandanat x reader #wandanat smut

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ma1dita · 3 months

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bedtime stories

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: bitch this was supposed to be a blurb. 2.4k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where night shift with him runs late, but you don't mind at all. You won’t admit a lot of things to Luke Castellan, but perhaps he knows something you don’t. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

warnings: none, banter and fluff on a night shift

a/n: Introducing luke castellan x trouble!reader… this is just gonna be ongoing blurbs and one shots of an idea in my head (and my latest hyperfixation) reader is essentially reformed unhinged bitch now camp mom and it’s enemies to friends to lovers. Working through reading the pjo series hehe

(posted 1/16/24, beta’ed by the lovely @ttulipwritezz @mrsaluado & @lixzey thank you bunches)

—

Dragging your feet across the dirt of the forest floor, you sigh to yourself in the quiet night air. It’s gonna be another long night and with the beep on your digital watch, you blearily peer at the time and sigh. Almost 11. Swaying slightly, you whistle a familiar tune as your nimble hands straighten out the deck chairs near the firepit, pick up trash to toss into the receptacle, and turn off the lights in the dining hall. All on the way to check Cabin 7, mind you, and the Apollo kids will undoubtedly loop you into singing a song with them before you shut the lights off and close the curtains.

Gods, your dad is definitely gonna hear about this in the morning.

It’s not like Mr. D ever really cares, or listens, more focused on droning on about missing his wife and playing pinochle even when you rattle off his…your to-do list for the week to keep Camp Half-Blood running and the younger demigods in mostly one piece. Honestly, he should be grateful he has you, and even if he is, he’ll never let you hear it. At least you’re Chiron’s favorite.

A shadow passes your field of view, and before you can rub at your sleepy eyes, strong hands pin you to the side of a tree on the dirt path you were supposed to take across camp.

Sorry, let’s correct that—you’re one of Chiron’s favorites. The other all-star camper stares at you like you’re a three-headed dog under the beam of his flashlight.

“Just me, Castellan,” you grumble, a bit winded as you blink harshly at the bright light. “Still doing checks.”

“You’re losing your touch. You making a habit of going to bed late?” Luke smirks, and it’s actually annoying how he always looks like he knows something you don’t.

“You always pin campers to trees?”

“Just the pretty ones.” His smirk turns into a sly grin that makes you roll your eyes.

“Okay loser, I’ve got cabins to check,” you drone as you push off from the tree. “6 cut into my time after staying there longer than I had to. The little ones kept asking these otherworldly philosophical questions and Annabeth just laughed at me while I tried to not pluck my eyelashes out one by one.”

Your clipboard taps lightly against your hip despite the aggression in your voice and Luke laughs much like his little sister, a burst of sunlight overflowing into the dreary and mundane. Your lips quirk upward before you can stop and remind yourself of who you’re talking to. The tall boy reaches behind him to scratch the nape of his neck and sighs, sucking at his teeth.

“You’re always doing the most, huh?”

“Who else is going to, my dad? He’s probably already out like a light.” Once, you found your dad asleep at his desk after dinner, snoring loudly instead of keeping watch. You started taking more night shifts after that.

“Well, no. You know I’m here to help you, even if you’ll never admit it.” Luke extends a hand to you so it’s easier to navigate the step back onto the dirt-trodden path, but there’s no fun in that, so you hop around him and start walking away. The sound of his footsteps fall and match yours as he follows you, both in tandem like the sound of a steady heartbeat.

“The day you catch me admitting anything about you is the day the Underworld freezes over. You should know that by now.”

“Woooooow, so I don’t get a thank you for singing the Apollo kids to sleep? You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked in and not you. They ended the song pretty quickly after I opened my mouth to croak out a chorus,” he says, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and nudging your side as you both laugh.

He’s a terrible singer, to be honest. Not even the Fates would’ve expected that from someone who otherwise seems like a perfect boy. Sometimes you wonder what he’s done in a past life to have it so easy–to look like he’s been chiseled by Michelangelo, have the athletic prowess of ten Spartan soldiers, and the heart of a hero only legends could get right. He’s probably the closest thing to an actual hero here at camp. You often find yourself looking at him in hopes of finding a crack in the porcelain of his perfection, but any fault of his seems to just build up his endurance in his quest for glory.

Maybe that’s why your dad doesn’t like him, his aspirations for something greater than the camp that’s kept you safe all these years, though the multiple complaints and headaches the both of you have given him as squabbling teenagers must’ve added onto that. Sometimes, though, the way he helps ease your load prods a funny feeling you do your best not to acknowledge in your stomach. Luke walks ahead shining the flashlight onto the dark path so you both don’t trip. It’s there now, at the sight of him offering an arm for you to latch onto to hop over fallen branches.

Mental note: tell the satyrs to move that in the morning.

As you hurdle over the brambles, you let go immediately after you steady your feet, moving his hand that’s holding the flashlight back towards the path with no other words. You are your father’s daughter after all, and he knows this—stubborn and your name have the same face.

Moving further towards your destination, the light reveals a teenage couple entangled within each other’s arms at the base of a tree out there for everyone to see in the moonlight.

“Jeez, guys, alright— pack it up, wrap it up! Could’ve at least found somewhere private… It’s curfew already, if I see you two again it’s a citation.”

The boy blushes and mumbles an apology to you, scurrying back to cabin 7, and you raise an eyebrow at a sheepish son of Hermes who swears they were all in their beds when he was singing to them.

“I don’t wanna go back to my cabin, all the boys are gross…” the girl whines, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as she flutters her eyelashes at you and Luke. You sigh. What has the world come to that young demigods are entrusted to the care of two people who barely consider themselves adults?

“Well, if you’re still in 11 with this one,” you simper, blatantly pointing at Luke, “I can’t blame you. He’s gross. Come by mine tomorrow and I’ll get you privacy curtains, okay? Trust me Yvonne, you don’t think boys are all that gross if you like kissing them.”

She nods, smiling charmingly at the two of you, before brushing past Luke and winking, “See you inside!”

Your head swivels to look at Luke with a coy expression, “There’s no way she’s not an Aphrodite.”

Luke huffs as he clicks his flashlight on and off. His hands are always fidgeting, always searching for something to do. He’s more like his dad than he thinks, carrying the quieter traits of quick fingers and more obvious ones like his constant search for amusement. Talking to you consistently satiates that itch.

“Aphrodite isn’t the only god that attracts attractive people, you know.”

“Oh? Do tell, because if she’s one of you, your cabin’s gonna be extra trouble,” your mouth curves into a smile, and he thinks he likes it more when you’re trying to be mean to him like this because the back and forth between you two is a comfort Luke cherishes. The words have lost their bite over the years, and there are no more cuts and bruises besides an occasional wounded ego, but it’s still entertaining, to say the least. He can’t imagine a day without hearing the teasing lilt of your voice, always easy to prod at and always wanting to have the last word.

“My dad is the god of thieves and messengers. We’re fast, smart, charming, and also good-looking. Do the math.”

“Also apparently the ones with the biggest egos, but okay.” There it is. He shoves you and you trip over your own feet falling fast.

“Hey! Jerk.”

“Definitely a daughter of Dionysus, crazy as always, and clumsy too.” Luke’s nose crinkles at the sight of your crumpled frame.

“Your hand is like the size of my face, what the fuck was I supposed to do with that?”

A fleeting thought in the back of your mind reasons that maybe violence is the answer, but he’s still not finished making fun of you even after he helps you up.

“And vulgar! What a shocker.”

“Ugh. You better hope your dad stops populating because if there’s any more that come here and act like you? I’m quitting.”

Luke watches you gaze at the heavens, probably looking for a fuck to give and he snickers at how easily you give in nowadays. Maybe he’s the one losing his touch—usually you’d put up more of a fight to argue.

“You wouldn’t. You love this job. Camp. S’why you’re not as fun anymore, trouble.”

A noise of agreement leaves you as you glare at him and the stupid nickname back from when you used to wreak havoc just because you could, a direct juxtaposition to the honorary position you hold today. Finally following him up the front steps of Cabin 11, Luke opens the door and beckons you in, pushing at your hip with his knuckles.

Checking this place last has become a habit with Luke helping you out, and all the kids—Hermes’, minor gods’, and unclaimed, love it when you come to stop by before lights out. They especially loved the later bedtime, but hugs and cool stories from you were a close second.

“Everyone good and ready for bed in here? Sorry it took so long guys,” you say, visually scanning the perimeter and matching faces to bunks, seeing them all settled beneath their sheets, all except for one Luke Castellan. He’s still leaning against the doorframe, breath grazing your shoulder as he hands you a copy of his log from the other cabins he kindly relieved you from.

“What, no bedtime story this time?” He says through hooded eyes, and though he won’t admit it, he adores the sound of your voice. Luke does anything he can to get your attention to hear it more. It almost has a calming effect on him, and maybe it’s the fact that your dad can cause and cure madness, anxiety, and all alike, so something in him believes you do the same, powers or not. One look from him has you sputtering out snarky remarks; different strategies, same results—works every time.

“Castellan…” He grins at the look on your face, and tiny voices pop up from around the cabin, all asking for a bedtime story. Chris even starts a chant from his top bunk, making you want to hurl your clipboard at his head. Hypnos is calling your name at this point, and you’d do anything to crawl into your own safe haven in Cabin 12, but your heartstrings pull at the sight of the little ones pouting, hoping for you to tuck them in with a blanket of comforting words and stories of something more than what these walls meagerly provide. Camp Half-Blood only keeps them safe for so long, and not a lot of them make it out of here alive. You and Luke both know that being two of the oldest at camp, and his smug expression as he settles into his bed is confirmation that you’re about to give in.

“Fine. One quick story, and then everyone goes to sleep okay? Who wants to sit on the floor with me?”

You take your place sitting on the ground next to the foot of Luke’s bunk as he lays upside down on the twin-sized mattress, peering at you through one open eye as the younger children, mostly the unclaimed ones—drag their blankets and form a circle in the middle of the room, waiting patiently for you to start enchanting them with something to occupy their tired minds. Acting— that’s the gift your father had to give you; this time you decide to tell the story of Atalanta and the golden apples, how she ran from love and it still found her in the end, and how some stories can have good endings, despite what’s often found in Greek legend. Multiple tired eyes droop closed as you finish the story and carry the ones who’ve fallen into Hypnos’ embrace back into their bunks, tucking them in with kisses on their foreheads and it leaves you with a warm feeling that will help you brave the chill on your walk back.

Admittedly, this next part is your favorite part on nights like these. The overflowing cabin of rowdy pranksters and babbling children is as quiet as the secret you hold close to your heart, tiptoeing back towards Luke’s space and draping his blanket over his muscular frame, exhausted from another day of trying to achieve greatness. Your hand brushes a dark curl away from his forehead, fingertips ghosting his pale skin like a kiss you’d never have the guts to give. With everything you have in you, you summon thoughts of serenity and peace, hoping whatever keeps him up at night lets him rest for even a few hours. You don’t pray often, finding yourself spiting your father instead of honoring him on most days, but in the dim light of Cabin 11, you find yourself making time to do so for a pain in your ass called Luke Castellan.

Perhaps he knows something you don’t after all, the crease in his forehead relaxing as you pull your fingertips away.

“Sweet dreams, angelface.”

Mental note: Put his ass to work tomorrow for falling asleep halfway through the story.

It’ll only give him another excuse to ask you to tell it again a few nights later. You find yourself not minding that, a sliver of a smile pulling at your face as you walk towards the door and shut the lights off, a sleeping son of Hermes illuminated by the gentle shine of the moon.

You’d never admit that, though.

—

“you steady me and stir me

all at once.”

-Tanya Wright

ask to be added to luke/general taglist!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #pjo imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader fanfic #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 10 months

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Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Chapter One. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

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pinkie-pop · 5 months

Text

"Do Paimons Dream of Floating Sheep?"

Mondstadt: Part I Part II Part III Part IV

Based on this

Featuring: Gender-Neutral Reader, Paimon!Reader, Yandere Genshin Impact, Aether, Albedo, Eula, Diluc, Kaeya, Lisa, Venti

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Being dragged into the world of your favorite video game is hardly your idea of a relaxing Saturday, and being dragged into the world of your favorite game, taking over the role of mascot even less so. Unfortunately, it seems fate has no interest in what you consider to be a normal day, and it will do anything to replace your idea of normal entirely.

Includes: Acrophobia, implied drugging of a drink (Not Reader's),

Note: This work is distinct from the previous two installments in that it does not follow a chronological timeline. Instead, it contains a collection of short stories and interactions.

“Ah, hello there [Name],” Kaeya says, catching you on one of the rare moments you’re alone. “I was just about to get some Sticky Honey Roast, do you want to join? My treat.” He must know it’s your favorite—one of the few things you have in common with the original Paimon—with the way he always seems to use it as an excuse to spend more time with you.

“Um, is that really okay? Aren’t you like, on duty?” Kaeya smiles, pressing a finger to his lips.

“It’ll be our little secret,” he says. You try to smile at him as you think of ways to decline, but a betrayal from your stomach seals your fate. Your blue-haired companion chuckles at the loud grumble from your stomach and beckons you to follow him. ”Sounds like you’re in agreement. Then, let’s head down to Good Hunter,” he says, placing a hand on the small of your back as the two of you walk. It's a little uncomfortable, but you don’t say anything.

Kaeya is difficult to navigate, so you usually avoid him. You think he’s noticed, but he’s yet to say anything about it. Instead, the two of you engage in a silent tug-of-war, with him always trying to pull you in closer and you always trying to break away.

Well, at least the food’s free.

The two of you make your way down to Good Hunter, where you engage in awkward small talk as Kaeya stares you down uncomfortably. You’re about halfway through making some vague remark about the weather when Kaeya lets out something like a contented sigh, stopping you in your tracks.

“This is nice,” says Kaeya, resting his chin on his hand and looking at you with a gaze resembling something like tenderness. “They run me ragged at the Knights of Favonious—seeing you is like a breath of fresh air. I’d better be careful, otherwise I might get swept up in your gaze and forget everything else.”

“Run you ragged? Is Jean really that hard on you?” You say, pointedly ignoring his flirtatious remarks.

“Oh, absolutely,” he says. “Why just the other day, I–” Kaeya pauses, as if sensing something. Slowly, he turns around.

“Go on,” says Jean, standing right behind him. “What happened next, Captain?” She enunciates the title with purpose, clearly angry but still smiling. Kaeya swallows, and gets an earful from Jean. You finish your meal in peace.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Just a little further–!” You say, oustretching your hand and teetering over the edge of the ladder, desperately trying not to look down. Lisa had asked you to help her with some menial tasks at the library. Right now, you're reshelving books as Lisa holds the ladder steady. You could have forgone the ladder and flown up to the shelves yourself, but after last time…you shudder. No, it’s much easier to use the ladder instead, although, really, you’d rather not be up here at all. Lisa had practically begged you to go up, citing her bad back as to why she couldn’t do it herself. “Ah, got it!” you say, smiling victoriously. You grin down at Lisa, only to realize just how high up you are.

Like waves crashing against the sand, the floor below you shifts and swirls as you fight to stay afloat. It is a meaningless fight, you know, for you are already falling. Time seems to slow down as you plummet to the floor. Logically, you know your fall should only take but a few seconds, but to you, it seems to stretch out for an eternity.

Your life flashes before your eyes. You see your family smiling at you from beyond a white light, you reach towards it, but there’s nothing there. You could save yourself by flying, but you’ve already vowed to never take to the skies again, and so down you fall. Falling is not all that dissimilar to flying, you see. It’s merely a matter of perspective.

Surely you must be close to the ground by now? It feels as though you’ve been plummeting down for ages.

You keep falling. Then, you stop.

Lisa catches you, her face mere cetemeters from yours. “I take it this means you’ve fallen for me?” She teases as your face heats up. You try to tell her to put you down, to ask about her back, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you lay there in her arms, gaping at her as if she had just grown three heads. Finally, she puts you down. You aren’t sure how long she kept you there, but you have a feeling it was longer than it needed to be.

The two of you finish shelving the books in silence, Lisa smiling the whole time.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Hey, Aether?” Your companion looks up at you in curiosity. You take a breath. ”If…we’re travelers, then, does that mean we don’t have a place to call home? What happens when our journey ends?” You look down, running a finger across the crescent scar on your hand—a nervous habit you picked up after coming to this world.

You had been thinking about this for a while. Ever since you fell into the lake three weeks ago. You have a home, but it's not here.

“Home, huh..?” Aether seems to be pondering over your question sincerely. No matter how silly or inconsequential your thoughts were, he always took you seriously. You liked that about him. “Home is wherever the three of us are,” he says at last. You chuckle awkwardly, unsure of what to say. It was sweet of him to say that, but he’s only known you for a few months.

You open your mouth to speak, but Aether cuts you off before you get the chance to. “I mean it, you know. Even if you don’t believe it. I don’t care how long we’ve known each other. You found me when I was at my lowest, when I was lost and missing the only family I’d ever known. You picked me back up and taught me about this world, even though it was foreign to you, too. You’re the most important thing in the world to me.” Your face grows hot as you turn away.

You aren’t an idiot. You’ve noticed the way he looks at you. Like you’re the only thing in the whole world. But…perhaps because you didn’t want to hurt him, you always ignored the signs, no matter how obvious they may be.

You aren’t sure if you can ignore this one, though.

“I can’t stay.” How can you say that? You can’t. You have a home, but Aether isn’t a part of it. One day you’ll tell him.

Just not today.

•~•~•~•~•~•

“Position your feet like this, then…” Eula stands behind you, her front nearly touching your back as she guides your arms into the proper positions. She’s close, nearly too close, and you can feel her hot breath on the nape of your neck as she instructs you. It’s hard to focus, but you do your best to follow her instructions. “Good. Now, from the top.” You do as she says and get back into starting position. Your feet start a shoulder widths apart, your hands above you, good, you’re starting off stopping. Next, move your hands like this and your feet like so.

Keep going, now. You’ve almost done it. Move slowly, don’t rush. Remember to breathe. You hold your current pose for three beats then slowly, carefully, move on to the next position. You drag the tip of your foot across the floor in a circular motion, then join it with your other one. You’re almost done now. It’s time for the finale.

Careful now, it’s the final stretch. Almost there, almost there—

You trip.

Internally cursing at your mistake, you hardly notice the way Eula’s arms swiftly wrap around you, keeping you from harm.

“You did well,” she says, walking towards the gramophone and taking out the record. She readies the song to play again, then steps back towards you. You never noticed it before, but even the way she walks is as elegant as a dance. You suppose that’s one perk of nobility.

“Thank you…”

“Now, let’s try again, shall we? Don’t worry, I’ll spot you. Just focus on dancing.”

•~•~•~•~•~•

Aether fell asleep.

It was still early, but the day was not particularly kind to him. You suppose it’s natural for him to be a bit tired. Still, to fall asleep in the middle of a bar was…

Diluc’s voice broke you out of your thoughts.

“If Aether’s too tired to walk back, there’s a spare room here that you can use. I doubt you’ll be able to carry him,” he says, wiping a glass. He’s been wiping the same glass for several minutes now…almost as if he were waiting for something...Or maybe he just switched them out when you weren’t looking. The glasses all look the same, after all.“Of course, if you’re worried about the comfort of such a room, I can always carry him back to my manor. You can stay in one of the spare rooms, too. I’ll let the maids know not to disturb the two of you.”

“Thank you,” you say. “But that shouldn’t be necessary. Aether’s a pretty light sleeper, I’m sure I can wake him, no problem.”

“Are you sure?” Diluc glances over at you. “He looks pretty out of it.” You try jostling him, only for there to be no response. You continue trying on and off for the rest of the night. It is only until the tavern is minutes away from closing that you finally accept Diluc’s offer. You hadn’t wanted to burden him, but he was right. You couldn’t carry him all by yourself. You follow Diluc back to his manor. He seems uncharacteristically pleased.

•~•~•~•~•~•

Dragonspine is cold.

You knew that, of course, but you had no ideea just how cold it really was. The game’s sheer cold gave you an idea, sure, but it left out just how biting the wind could be. A simple frost filter overlaid on top of gameplay could to nothing to convey just how freezing the place really was. Even now, bundled up in three layers of coat and standing next to a fire, the cold still found its way to creep past your defences, starting at your skin and seeping down into your bone.

You are cold. Freezing, even. To an almost literal degree. You think that if you were to start crying now, your tears woud freeze before they even left your eyes. Perhaps your eyelids would freeze shut, and perhaps you would never be able to open them again. It’s so cold that you wonder if you’ll ever feel warmth again. You wonder if such a thing is even possible.

You know these musings are silly, but alas, you cannot help them. It is far too cold to be thinking of anything else.

“Come here,” Albedo says, beckoning you over. You do so without thinking, though the chill makes you want to stay put. Albedo wraps a blanket around the two of you, then pulls you into his chest. You relax into him immediately, the warmth from his body overtaking you, fighting valiantly against the frigid air. For once, it seems to actually have a chance.

You snuggle in closer and Albedo wraps an arm around you, bringing you somehow closer than before as he rubs small circles into your back. It’s soothing. You sigh happily, too focused on the temperature to notice the possessive way he’s looking at you, too preoccupied to wonder why he doesn’t turn on the heater you saw hours ago.

You didn’t know it was possible for people to be this warm. Perhaps it is because Albedo is not a person at all. Albedo holds you as if you are his only lifeline, and, for a second, you find yourself wondering if he’s cold as well. Right, Albedo doesn’t get cold. He can’t.

So then, why is he holding you so tightly…?

•~•~•~•~•~•

There’s something almost hypnotic about his voice, or perhaps its about the way he strums his lyre. Is it because he’s a god? Or perhaps it’s simply a millenia of experience at play. Perhaps it is both. Perhaps neither. You don’t dwell on it. You’d miss the performance if you did, and what a shame that would be.

The two of you sit together, alone in the dead of night with only each other for company. You sat at the foot of the large statue in the middle of the city as he serenaded you. Perhaps it was a little egotistical of him, to sing for you under a statue of himself, but you are far too preoccupied in song to care.

The moon’s milky glow illuminates his face in a way that is almost ethereal. At times, you have found yourself wondering if Venti was truly a god fit of the title. It is only now, in times like this, that the truth of his divinity is realized. Words fall like honey from his lips as he sings, his nimble fingers plucking at the strings with precision and expertise. His skill is unmatched—not just in Mondstadt, but in the whole of Teyvat. Of this, you are certain.

The song comes to its end, and so too does your rendezvous.

•~•~•~•~•~•

You close the Archive.

“So that’s what the future has in store for me, huh?”

Taglist: @shadowkitty-me @probablynoposts @kissyhalik @persephone-kore-law @neverending-animelove @crxscnt @teravolting @resident-cryptid @esthelily @shellofthewall @dilucragnidvr @altheq0 @wegottastayfocus @jellothefool @c0l1fl0r @francisnyx @imma-just-chill @fantasyhopperhea @iamapotatoe @utahimechan @undecidingfate @saltystudentdefender @vee-love @ayameei @shadowkitty-me @fantasyhopperhea @c4xcocoa

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere diluc #diluc ragnvindr #yandere kaeya #yandere albedo #yandere aether #yandere lisa #yandere venti #yandere x reader #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau x reader #genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin

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qvrcll · 7 months

Text

the little things they do — luffy, zoro, nami, usopp & sanji.

summary: what do they do that makes you tick? that makes your heart glide through your chest and fester at your throat? that makes you glissade through hell itself, for the pleasure that it brings?

warnings: slight tension but no nsfw, fluff, nothing too bad!

notes: i started binge watching op / opla recently and decided to give i a go at writing for them! literally could not stop my fingers from typing this out. i’m a little new to op, so i hope you enjoy nonetheless :-] i promise im working on another part of college melodrama! i just wanted to try something new to get the brain juices flowing <3

sanji — moves you by your waist

sanji is keen with his women, but with you, he’s even more so. he’s gentle with it, even if he doesn’t need to be, because you make him aberrantly nervous, yet vilely confident in his etiquette — and today just cements it. it’s a boring day, and that prompts you to keep yourself stationed in the kitchen, where the rest of the straw hats find their own circles to situate themselves in (pure boredom, much to sanji’s dismay). the space is overcrowding and you’re halfway into disputing something that luffy insists is true fact, when sanji’s mellow palms come to gripe gently, carefully, at your waist — “excuse me, beautiful,” he mouths, fiendish and close to tasting his teeth in a marvellous grin as he effortlessly moves you, gingerly in so many ways, so he can reach the cabinet. you stutter out some convoluted version of a yes, o-of course! … safe to say, you can barely pay much consideration to luffy’s rebuttal as the tepedity of the cook’s hands lay in repetitive, illusive strokes against your hips for more times than one to just consider it an act to retrieve spices from a cabinet.

zoro — has one hand in your back pocket

he’s silent, mischievous with his antics. the upper part of your brain warns you of his skepticism, his cruelly hard body, his thick cheek. but your heart buds violently under what you can only assume is his effect. and it’s only furthered, when you are too close to him for comfort in this mini-party the crew has going on atop the going merry. you spot him nodding off in the corner of your eye, barely even knowing of his current footing in his chair as he slumps off. you urge him to go to bed, to ditch the drinks and gain a full night’s rest. but he shakes his head stiffly, his rather large hand slinking into the back pocket of your pants, where it lays dormant and so, so close to squeezing. “stay. this way, i won’t lose you.” you fail to yelp, because every nerve has been short-wired. twisted. re-twisted. re-wired. you can only stand close, fluxing against the warmth of his palm in your back pocket, as the faintest of reds colour his cheeks. a smile is welcome.

luffy — hugs your waist

being a captain is luffy’s share of the burden that comes with his quest of finding the one piece. he swears its easier than he allows it, but his body is different on days like these. days when he’s laying, tired and inaccessible to his usual bouts of energy. days like these, you can’t navigate around his lethargy, that comes slow and unmoving, similar to his resolve. his arms are around you, tight and interlocking further like a snake, his face buried against your stomach as he uses you as a stationary pillow. and you try to remind him that there are things you need to resume, things you need to conduct on the going merry, but when you turn to move, excuse yourself, he tightens, and his nose brushes against the sensitive skin beneath your button up in a nimble attempt to get you to stay still. “mmm… five—no, ten more minutes… i promise.”

nami — rests her head in the crook of your neck

it’s not an easy job sorting the day’s itinerary into tidy, little boxes and shelves, whilst the boat rocks to a cathartic beat around you. nami is here, to help you, but you are unable to shake off the tension wearing you down. your skin feels like paper and the bottom side of your shoes are sticky with sea water and your hands feel like rubber. you could rival luffy. it makes you feel awful, gets you hot and antsy so quickly, that nami blinks twice. of course, you apologise. you always have. but nami gets the directive before you do, and she reaches forward to hug you close to her chest. her nose tickles your neck and the space is living with her breath — the crook of your neck. “how about we stay like this for a bit, hm?” it’s more for your own means to find ground amongst your frustrations, to help you calm down, but nami has always loved being close to you. she always has.

usopp — holds you close to protect you

the great captain usopp. mighty warrior of the sea. well, not the great when the sea is colliding into rows of wood at maximum speed, which rocks the entire great vessel. you try to be less of a deterrence, try to find your own standing in the room you’re in with usopp, but your body is thrown across the room in one fell swoop, where you meet halfway into usopp’s chest. there’s a messy string of syllables that leave your lips, a creaky apology as you try to maintain some space between you (for the sake of your enervated heart), but he’s quicker. an ability derived from his sharp-shooter skills, you’re sure. his arm wraps around your waist and he allows you to crowd his chest. allows you to hold him like a pillar against the raging sea when it sends a rather alarming rock to the ship. “hold on tight — you’ve got nothing to worry about with captain usopp here. you hear?”

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x yn #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x yn #nami x reader #nami x you #nami x yn #usopp x reader #usopp x you #usopp x yn #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x yn

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love-that-we-were-in · 25 days

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lighting the fuse might result in a bang

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: Silena thinks you need to start blowing off some steam. You think you just need a fresh victory and Luke Castellan is the perfect opponent. word count: 5.3k warnings: smoking, drinking, usual college party stuff.

author's note: brought to you by my personal deep dark history with boys in hats. also i haven't gotten drunk in like 4/5 years so i don't remember what it's like so this was interesting. also i don't know anything about frats OR smoking. have the most fun <3

When Silena mentions a party you could go to, you jump at the offer, brain fuzzing at the edges where you’ve been locked in on flashcards all afternoon. It’s something you’ve started to navigate better this year, remembering to have fun after a year of non-stop focus. Silena makes it easier - a social butterfly with no qualms about dragging you out of the library when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard - and there’s no harm in listening to her without protest sometimes.

“Do you even know who’s throwing this one?” You ask as she’s leading you through campus, rubbing at your arms to fight the fall chill. “I do not want a repeat of March.”

“Have some faith in me. I’ve started vetting my sources.”

Both of you shiver, the memory of a night spent outside the Stolls’ cramped dorm still haunting you six months later. You’re not overly familiar with this side of campus, turning away from the usual halls and towards the sorority housing, but Silena walks the path with ease, arm looped through yours.

The walk seems to have cleared your head, the music as you approach shaking off the last of the static. You’ve been here before, borrowing notes from a teammate, but it’s different like this, all pumping bass and cheers from the kitchen. Clarisse waves at you from across the room, beer in hand, and you mutter to Silena that you’re going to grab a drink. She nods, making a beeline for Drew Tanaka. You assume that’s who the invitation came from originally.

There’s a different energy to the kitchen, not quieter by any means but less noisy. Less concentrated, maybe, with twenty different conversations happening at once and nothing you have to pay attention to. Most people you don’t recognise, a group from your first year stats class huddled together near the sink, and the Stolls off to the side pointing at every new person they see.

Mixing your drink is an easy fix, the kitchen island covered in more choices than you’ve seen in a while, and you savor the first few sips. Between class and swimming, you’ve barely drank since the semester began and the burn of vodka isn’t as numbed as you wish it was. Still, a drink is a drink so you refill it before returning to the thick of the party.

Clarisse takes it upon herself to drag you away from the conversation you end up trapped in with Lee Fletcher, quite literally taking hold of your elbow. You mutter an apology, however disingenuous, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation as he smiles grimly.

“I have no idea how you talk to that lot,” she says when you’re far enough away. “They’re all boring.”

“Lee’s great. He always lends me notes from the lectures I miss.”

She laughs, pushing you into another room. “He’s trying to swindle a date out of you and you’re using him for lecture notes.”

You shrug. There’s nothing wrong with Lee, except that Clarisse is a little right when she says most of your classmates are boring. It’s probably not intentional, and they definitely don’t realize it, but there’s this way they carry themselves around campus - half-nervous and half-haughty. It’s not a great combination and it’s why you gravitate towards the people Silena meets.

“We were wondering when we were going to see you next,” Chris says as he throws an arm over Clarisse’s shoulder. You still don’t quite know the story there, how Chris Rodriguez managed to sweet talk your stoic teammate. One day, you’ll find out - a drunken vow you made with Silena on your dorm room floor when Clarisse mentioned a boyfriend - but you’re content to let them enjoy their romance in peace for now. “Almost thought you’d succumbed to the dark side.”

“You’re not getting rid of me yet.”

“And thank god,” he knocks his cup against yours before gesturing to the far corner of the room. “Because we need someone to kick Castellan’s ass at beer pong.”

“Whose?”

Turns out, Luke Castellan is the newest brother to ksig. There’s not much to know about Chris’ fraternity in your eyes, just the basics of all frats, and you know from last year that there’s always bound to be a hotshot that needs someone to pump the brakes on their ego. Usually, they’re on the younger side, with more money than sense and they don’t expect anything from your approach. Luke Castellan isn’t quite that, but he’s not far from it either.

While Chris talks to the boy who was about to play, you take the opportunity to size up your opponent. It comes naturally, a part of constantly competing, and it comes in handy in moments like this, when the element of surprise is a key factor to the situation going ahead.

Fitted jeans, branded polo and a stupid snapback cap worn backwards to show how cool he is. Nothing you haven’t seen before, really, except there’s this focused glint in his eyes with each plastic ball he throws like he has to prove his worth here. It’s a simple practice, unnecessary for a silly party game, but there’s this serious set to strong shoulders that you’re curious about.

The same way you want to know about Clarisse’s relationship, you want to know what makes Luke Castellan, whoever he is, tick.

“Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning, Rodriguez?”

“I’m not playing you, Luke,” Chris says and you watch closely as the other boy tilts his head slightly to the left. “I just had to go and get the current undefeated champion on campus.”

There’s this moment that happens every time you play - those awkward seconds where everyone looks completely past you to anyone else, anyone more noticeable. You count on it, occasionally, so it takes you a moment to process the way Luke’s gaze slides to you, drinks you in before he nods towards the other end of the table.

Chris mutters a quiet “you got this,” as you brush past him, handing him your drink. You’re not delusional enough to think you can get away with mixing your drinks this early in the game.

It takes two of Luke’s shots for you to land your first, his last hour of playing an advantage you accounted for. He’s not getting sloppy, not in the slightest, but he’s at the point where he’s a little worse for wear - a tired arm and hazy mind - and you take the chance you have at a false sense of security, taking your losses on the chin before playing the game to win.

Within seven shots between you, you can see Luke start to get restless. How he reevaluates the table in front of him, his three empty cups to your four. Part of you really wants to knock that hat off his head, as if it’ll give you more of an insight into his mind. Instead, you wait for what you know is coming, a slight miscalculation that has the plastic ball rolling off the table to land at someone’s feet.

Chris hands you a fresh one and you take in the way Luke swallows, jaw clenching as you line up your next shot. Whether he knows it or not, you’ve just been handed your win.

Clarisse cheers, handing you one of the cups from in front of you as everyone yells. You both chug what’s left of them, the bitter taste of cheap beer drowned out by victory, and as soon as that’s done, she throws herself back into Chris’ arms. Laughing, you turn around to find another drink, only to be met by Luke standing beside you.

“Are you about to be a sore loser?”

He chuckles and it’s different like this. His eyes are brown, which you didn’t know five minutes ago, and his hair is dark from the little wisps of it you can see peeking out underneath his hat. You consider telling him that the hat makes him look lame, but then he’s leaning down to whisper anyway. “I expect a rematch.”

It’s quiet and heavy and you wonder if anyone can tell that your blood feels like it’s on fire. It’s nothing, really, and it takes more effort than you want to respond.

“Then expect to lose.”

The only saving grace to the exchange is that Luke looks a whole lot more affected by it, a blush crawling up his neck as you take the drink nearest to you and leave to find your roommate once more.

Losing never used to get to you. Not like this, at least, where everything sort of feels like a precipice and you’re waiting for the next loss to fall on your shoulders alone. It was meant to be an easy game, a warm-up, for when the season started in earnest and you couldn’t afford to be incohesive. There’s always a learning curve, new starters and new competition, but in no world should it have caused this.

Silena tells you to let it go, throwing yet another outfit on her bed as she gets ready. When you saw her at lunch, Clarisse told you to just push harder during practice. Sometimes you’re not even sure how you can be friends with both of them, how they can be friends with each other either. Unfortunately, it becomes very clear when Clarisse knocks on the door that night.

“Why aren’t you ready?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She tuts at you, digging through the pile of clothing on Silena’s bed before throwing a dress at you. “Get dressed.”

“You can’t make me,” you protest, the black fabric scrunching in your fist. You’ve borrowed it before, for a party last year you don’t remember very well, and you don’t even want to consider why it’s the one Clarisse selected. You turn to your roommate, looking for backup, only to find her with a pair of your shoes in her hands. “Are you seriously going to make me?”

In unison, they raise a singular eyebrow each and it’s unsettling enough that you let go of all will to fight them. Today may as well just be full of losses that you can mourn tomorrow.

It’s only when you arrive at the party that you realize you have no idea who’s throwing it. Or who’s going to be there. Distantly, you really hope it’s a stranger Silena met on her way around campus - full of people you’ve ever met and will never see again. You could find someone nice enough to blow off some steam with before going on your merry way.

When Clarisse yells at her boyfriend, you let out a huff as both he and Luke Castellan turn around.

Since your first meeting, you’ve learned a few more things about Luke. He’s from Connecticut. He was responsible for half of Drew’s sorority coming down with the flu during freshers week. He’s in pre-med. He’s the reason Professor Chase introduced a ban on energy drinks in his lectures (one hundred students simultaneously opening a can of Redbull each was, apparently, mildly disconcerting). Most importantly, he’s always wearing that stupid cap.

You try to equate the things you know with the Luke standing in front of you. Some of it makes perfect sense - Professor Chase and Connecticut - and some of it unsettles you, but it’s all true. Freshers and pre-med and track meets. Focusing on the distracted way he taps on his beer bottle instead of Clarisse greeting Chris, you kind of want to find out a whole lot more.

“Fancy a rematch?”

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night, twisting the cap off a fresh beer before handing it to you. Then doing the same with his own. You pretend not to notice the movement of it, the few short seconds where you can get away with staring at the shine of silver rings in low light. Taking a sip, you crinkle your nose.

“I’m not really in the mood,” you mutter and, at the very least, the beer is cold and you chug half of it before you even notice you’ve done it. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?”

There’s seconds before you notice it, how his eyes shift from slightly curious to intense. They don’t change much but standing in front of him, you can tell when they go from relaxed to focused. How his back straightens and shoulders roll back just so. You should go and find something stronger to drink. Maybe even see if Lee Fletcher is nearby.

You stay put.

“It’s just a bit of friendly competition,” Luke shrugs, unknowing of how it echoes in your skull. How that’s all today was ever meant to be. Leave it to him to dig the knife in again just as the tightness in your chest was starting to ease. “But I guess you just can’t handle it.”

“I’d kick your ass in a rematch. I’m doing you a favor.”

It’s obviously the wrong thing to say, Luke’s eyes brightening as the words push past your lips. The beer you drank way too fast is forming words before you even know what they are.

“You can always choose something else for me to beat you in,” he says, like it’s an offer, something gracious that you should be grateful for. “I’m easy.”

“How many beers have you had?”

“Three, I think?”

Silena would tell you it’s a stupid idea - you have a coaching session at 9am and you haven’t gotten drunk since the party where you met Luke - and she would be right. But you need a win tonight, something guaranteed, and there’s this itch that crawls under your skin the longer you stare at the boy in front of you.

So you say it anyway.

“I bet I could outdrink you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He waits as you down two more beers in quick succession, nursing his own as you do. A clink of your bottles against one another, followed by the final sip you each take and it’s finally a competition.

The night continues, you and Luke almost joined at the hip. It’s to keep track, you tell yourself, talking to a kid that might be in your organic chem class. If the kid looks at you weird for pouring two drinks, only to hand one to Luke in silence, that’s probably just the alcohol misreading things. Only once, when you’re deep in conversation with Lee does Luke pass you a beer, eyebrow raised when Lee gives him a glare. You think that might’ve been drink eight.

By the time Chris finds you both again, you’ve thrown yourselves onto the couch on the outskirts of the room. Someone’s abandoned coat is thrown over your legs in a mediocre attempt to preserve some dignity in the dress you’re wearing and Luke’s hat has twisted to the side. You’re sure neither of you has drunk a sip in ten minutes.

“You guys doing okay?”

“We’re drunk,” you say and you can’t tell if it’s a whisper or a shout. “I’m winning.”

“You’re not winning,” Luke turns his head to glare and you blame the alcohol on the attention you pay to the slope of his nose. “Neither of us have finished these drinks.”

“Are you going to?”

He glances down at the cup in his hand, half empty. You can see it, the hesitation, before he places it on the floor by his feet, shaking his head. “Are you?”

The nice thing to do would be to give up, call it a draw and appreciate that you managed to have fun despite the bad day that had preceded it. However, you like to win. So you grit your teeth before drinking the final three sips, tilting the empty cup towards him so he can see the proof. It takes you a second to remember you have to actually swallow in order to drink, but you do and Luke scrunches his nose. You kind of want to kiss it as a way to smooth the skin back out.

“That’s two wins to me, Castellan.”

Chris shakes his head at you both. “I’m not calling either of you to make sure you’re alive in the morning.”

It’s an almost unconscious action when you walk into Drew’s sorority house, how you wave Silena off in favor of scanning the crowd, searching for the one reason you agreed to show up in the first place. It takes a moment, pinks and blues and silvers all merging together in your eyeline until you spot him near the staircase, familiar black cap resting on his head.

You’re already a little buzzed, the thrill of your final project this semester finally being handed in just hours ago, and it’s why you let yourself actually look at Luke for once.

By this point, you’ve seen him in a polo and a flannel, always with jeans. Laidback. That’s what party Luke was. Tonight, though, it’s like he’s trying harder - baggy pants, like they’re resting a little too low on his hips, a white t-shirt, white trainers that you know are going to stain before the night ends and a slightly oversized leather jacket that doesn’t quite go with the hat you used to identify him. Maybe it’s something he does on purpose, ruining a good thing over comforting familiarity. Maybe you’ll ask him.

Luke looks up then, as if he has a sixth sense, and you kind of don’t know what to do with the slight wave he sends in your direction. You wouldn’t call him a friend, that’s for sure, but you nod in response before weaving through your classmates to the kitchen.

It takes two vodka cranberries for Silena to find you. And it takes four shots with people you’ve never met for Chris to ask if you’ve seen Luke anywhere. You tell him where you last saw him, maybe an hour ago, and he shakes his head like he’s already checked the entire house.

“Do you think you can let him know I’m heading out?” Chris asks, one arm looped around Clarisse’s waist, more for support than anything else. She was already unsteady when you arrived and you know by the flush in her cheeks that it’ll only take a couple more drinks for her to start throwing up. You nod at Chris, cradling your drink to your chest, and he mumbles a thanks while steering his girlfriend towards the door.

With both of them gone, it leaves you with little to do except go hunting for Luke. So that’s what you do, waving Lee off as he attempts to grab your attention from the couch.

Focusing is a lot harder now, squinting over everyone’s heads in search of that damn hat. Nothing. You know he’s not in the kitchen, that’s definite, and you learn that he’s not in the garden either, Katie from your anatomy class staring at you bewildered as you explain your quest.

There’s only one place left to check for Luke and you consider if it’ll be a worthwhile risk. It’s entirely possible that he’s already left, whoever he was locked in conversation with earlier with him maybe, and you’re searching an entire sorority house on the off-chance he’s still in the building.

But you promised Chris. More than that, you refuse to let Luke Castellan beat you.

So you commit to the staircase, pushing past the line for the restroom upstairs. It’s quieter up here, not by much, but you can hear yourself think clearer. There’s three doors on your left, all closed, and you drain the remnants of your drink so it warms your blood and erases the small part of your brain still protesting.

There’s two yells when you knock on the first door, both hurried and pitching higher as the words fade so you move on quickly. No one answers to the second door, so you crack it open enough to see inside. It’s dark and neat and completely untouched by whatever is happening below, so you let it click shut again.

Luke is in the third room, you learn, pressing it open when there’s no response to your knock. The room itself is still orderly, but you find the boy you’ve been searching for sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, hat turned to the side and the sleeves of his jacket bunching carelessly where they’ve been pushed higher on his forearms.

“Chris wanted me to tell you he took Clarisse home,” you blurt when it feels like you need to say something. “He couldn’t find you so…”

Luke waits. When it becomes clear that’s all you’re here for, he says, “Well, thanks for letting me know.”

You’ve done your job. You can go back and enjoy the party downstairs, maybe make use of the empty room next door instead of remaining awkwardly in the doorway.

You think about how Chris mentioned that Luke can recite pi to seventeen places while drunk. How you’re still beating him by two points. How there’s an ashtray on the floor beside Luke’s knee and it’s sort of considerate of him to use one when no one else would.

“Mind if I join you?”

Being in an empty bedroom with a guy at a party isn’t unusual. You’ve had your fair share of them, rushed and quiet and mostly on a bed. Sitting on the floor with Luke is different, you find, a gravity to it than you can’t quite wrap your head around after so many drinks. It’s slow and languid and you don’t really say much of anything as your knee bumps against his thigh in an effort to get comfortable in the space.

No one told you Luke smokes.

You tell him as much.

“It’s a bad habit,” he shakes his head, twisting a cigarette between his fingers and you both act like you’re not paying rapt attention to it. “I try to avoid making it one.”

“I used to. Back in high school. Gave it up when I got accepted here.”

He turns to face you then, head tilted so the visor of his slanted hat brushes his shoulder. “I would never have guessed you were a smoker.”

It’s not said with judgment, just as an observation from the limited interactions you’ve had since the semester began. The focus in Luke’s gaze crawls up your spine and mingles with the alcohol you’ve yet to flush from your system.

“You ever blown a smoke ring?”

If you’re not challenging him, you don’t quite know what to make of Luke. It’s the thing you know most about him, the way his face shifts from victory into loss. The way it matches yours, stretches from his eyes to his jaw and into clenched hands. If you’re not challenging him, you can’t read him - you want to be able to read him in the low light of right now.

“I bet I’m better at it than you,” you say after he answers. A short laugh escapes him, almost a huff, and it raises the skin on your arms when it meets the top of your ear. “Wanna see?”

“I’ve only got one.” He waves the cigarette he’s been holding in front of your eyes.

“We can share.”

It’s a bad, terrible, absolutely stupid idea.

“You’re on, Castellan.”

As he lights the end of it, you wonder if he knows what the brief flame does for his cheekbones, for his jawline. Paints them in small, defined shadows that you might still see if you close your eyes. You almost want to mention it to him. You settle for watching his lips settle around it, the sinking of his cheeks on the inhale and the noise as he exhales. There’s an almost complete ring of smoke in the air.

Luke hands you the cigarette and you repeat his motions, a little quicker. A little smoother. The ring that leaves your lips is full, but less circular.

Both of you pretend not to notice the other one staring.

You agree to best of three. You agree and you win by the tiniest margin and you hand Luke the little that remains as a consolation prize. He indulges in the last few drags and you watch him do it, looking nothing like the pre-med student you know he is. You think he could be dangerous like this, based on the way your stomach twists as he puts the cigarette out, how his head tilts back and the final wisps of smoke escape his mouth.

You aren’t as drunk anymore.

You really wish you were.

It takes Luke a second to notice that you’ve moved at all, eyes still closed but he does, and the run of his gaze across your face is enough for you to seize the last of the alcohol in your bloodstream, pushing forward so you’re actually face to face with him, knees digging into the rough carpet beneath you.

“Can I help you?” It’s low and a little ragged and this is the first time you’ve really noticed the thin, pale scar that stretches down the skin of his right cheek. It’s actually a little insane how pretty he is up close.

“I think I want a little more than the glory of winning this time,” and half of your whisper is lost to Luke Castellan’s lips but it’s not that important anyway.

What is important is the warmth of his hand through your shirt, pressed into the skin that exposes itself as you shift even closer. It’s the slightly rough texture of his jaw underneath your palm, the way his breath hitches in tandem with yours and you both push through it anyway. It’s the unexpected catch of your finger on his cap and the way you give up on it entirely, finally snatching it off his head so it lands somewhere nearby.

You’re not sure what you expected Luke’s hair to look like. Horrible, probably, with odd patches that lie weirdly flat and should be covered from view. It’s not this, wild dark curls that deserve to be seen.

“You have curly hair?” You say it before you can think not to, so caught up in the discovery you’ve just made, and Luke squints at you, unsure. “I can’t believe you have curly hair.”

He’s preparing a smart-ass comment, you know it by the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, and that’s really just not going to work this time - not when he’s been lying for months behind a hat. So you do what any sane person would, twist your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and trail your lips across his jaw like you’ll die if you don’t.

His hand hooks underneath your thigh and, when you bracket his waist between your legs, cool leather brushing against your knees, you think this might be the best victory you’ve experienced yet.

Silena knows something is up when you refuse to speak to her about the party. There’s few secrets you’ve kept from each other since meeting, and even less since Clarisse got involved. It’s pointless to try, mostly, since they all spill out of you when the lights go out and you’re left with each other's company. You almost forgot how annoying she could be when she’s pushing for information.

“Don’t think I’m going to tell you either,” you say when Clarisse joins you in the library a week after the party. “I am a fortress of secrets.”

“I know you hooked up with Luke.”

“Seriously?”

She rolls her eyes, passing you the book you’d asked her for during practice last night. “Calm down. Chris told me. I’m down ten bucks now.”

“You bet on it?”

“Of course we did, it’s our brand.”

“I’m not telling Silena,” you whisper again, frowning at your notes. You wonder if Clarisse is aware you haven’t actually spoken to Luke since that night. “She’ll make it a big deal for nothing.”

“I won’t tell but you should probably figure out what happens next. There’s a party at ksig tomorrow night before everyone goes home for the holidays.” You tap your pen against the textbook. Clarisse pushes a slip of paper towards you. Someone’s phone buzzes to your left. “Think about it.”

When she’s long gone, you grab the paper she left from the table. It’s wrinkled and you smooth it as best you can beneath your fingertips. Blue ink, messily scrawled, and you commit it to memory. Closing your textbook, you leave it pressed between chapters seven and eight.

The party is loud, louder than you’re prepared for after flaking out on so many since your first one last year. Silena brushes past you once you arrive, shoving your shoulder just enough that it twinges and you frown. You didn’t speak a word on the way here and the silent treatment is starting to drive a little crazy.

It feels silly now, in a place so crowded, and you breathe deeply. Someone points you in the direction of the kitchen after multiple attempts at asking and you miss the light chaos of throwing up outside the Stolls’ dorm with your best friend.

You grab a beer, using the table edge to pop the cap off, and it helps to ease the tightness in your chest at how unfamiliar this all is. You’re not sure you could even find the restroom, let alone a singular person.

Pushing back into the bulk of the party, you vow to leave if you don’t find him before you finish your beer. There’s a project you have to start looking into for next semester that could be a good use of time tonight.

If anyone tried to convince you that most of campus was here, you’d be willing to believe them. A drink raised in Lee’s direction, a nod to Ethan from last years’ stats class, a half-hearted smile at Rachel, who raises an eyebrow at you like she knows something no one else does.

And maybe she does, because you turn away from her to find Luke just feet away, gesturing animatedly to the guy next to him. There’s a beer in his hand and a hat on his head and his phone number so deeply etched in your mind since last night that you hardly think about it until you’re standing next to him again, drink placed on a table somewhere along the way.

“Hi,” he smiles and his scar shifts with it. He turns to the guy from before. “We’ll catch up later, man.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate that fucking hat?”

“I sort of got that when you threw it across the room.” His lips wrap around the rim of his bottle and you think you can be normal about it, go back to the way things were, until he smirks just slightly and you know you can’t.

“You’re such a sore loser, Castellan,” you mutter as you push yourself up to snatch it from his head. He doesn’t comment, lets your fingers brush through his curls until they’re a complete mess instead of compacted. He glances down at the cap in your hand and mutters, “And what is your genius plan for my hat?”

It’s a really fucking good question. Short of getting it off his head, you didn’t know what you were going to do. It’s one thing to throw it across an empty room in the dark, another thing entirely to abandon it to a frat party. So you choose the next best thing - placing it on your own head and daring him to question it.

“I guess that can work,” Luke says and it sounds like a promise soaked in laughter.

Neither of you find it as funny when he has to tip the visor upwards to kiss you.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #🖊️ abi writes…

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lowkeyerror · 1 month

Text

The Family Business Ch.2

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Ch Notes: No warnings for this chapter, Krolik=Bunny, Sestra=Sister

Summary: Wanda was sent away on important business, by the time she comes back you're all grown up and a part of the family company. Wanda doesn't come back home empty handed in fact she returns with a brand new wife.

An: Ok someone asked me for Ch.2 early and I had to deliver. Next Ch.3 will be up on Monday. Stay tuned and hope you enjoy.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

True to their word, the Maximoff’s provided you with a roof over your head and protection wherever you went. You never worried about your mother again and you saw your father whenever his schedule permitted. However, your primary residence was with the Maximoff’s. They were just as kind as they had always been.

Dragos and Flora paid for anything you could ever want or need. They paid for your tuition at NYU, though you tried to argue against it. You double majored in software engineering and physics. Without the constant insecurities that your parents piled on you, you were able to reach new academic heights.

Wanda had gone off right before her college graduation, Dragos said she was doing important work internationally. He didn’t know when she would be returning. There was a small part of you that hated that the woman didn’t come to your graduation, but a card from her in the mail was enough to make you smile.

Once you had your degrees you weighed your options. After multiple boring interviews and under stimulating work you finally asked Dragos if there was anything you could do in the family business. Pietro wasn’t thrilled about you wanting to be involved, but once he saw you at work, he knew you’d fit right in.

The crime was fronted by a legitimate business that Dragos owned. Which meant that you got to work out of one the tallest office buildings in New York. Your standing with the family also afforded you a desk pretty high up. When you weren’t hacking into competitors’ systems or running field operations, you did simple accounting for the company. It was easier that way, as the numbers for both the true business and the under-cover business were vetted by you.

“Y/n, come on a delivery with me?” Pietro pops his head into your office space.

“What kind of delivery?”

He smirks, “Special.”

You quickly grab your jacket and follow him out of your office. As you navigate to the bottom floor the two of you make small talk.

“So, when are you going to stop playing around and ask Monica out?”

Pietro rolls his eyes, “When you date someone for more than 2 outings.”

You feign a pained look, “Ouch, that one hurts Piet.”

“The truth often does.”

Once you both are out of the building and into the car your demeanor changes a bit, “So who are these going to?”

“Mr. H.”

You groan, “That guy’s sketchy, I don't like him.”

Pietro laughs, “I’m sure a lot of people feel the same way about us. “

“Whatever,” you mumble, scrolling through your phone.

The rest of the ride is quiet, until you pull up to the drop of location. “So, I’m going in and dropping the stuff off. You’re going to wait for me in the driver's seat.”

“Why the driver’s seat?”

He blinks at you, “In case we need to get away faster, you'll already be in here. Keep the car running, this should be quick.”

While Pietro goes in to handle the business, you let your mind spiral into thoughts about Wanda. You miss her and feel like it has been too long. Dragos said that she ended up staying in Russia for awhile before heading to their home country of Sokovia. Apparently, while he ran the business here, she ran the operations over there.

You weren’t surprised that Wanda was trusted with such an important role, she always had leadership qualities. For a long while you thought you wanted to be just like her. Instead, you realized that the older woman had been someone you were interested in. Wanda had nearly a decade on you in age, but how could you not like her as a young queer girl.

Sometimes you could still feel her hand delicately grazing your torso as she patched up the wounds your mother inflicted. For awhile in the Maximoff’s home everyone treated you as if you would break into a million pieces. Maybe Wanda did too, but it was different with her.

She wasn’t just careful with you because she was scared, you’d break, but she truly believed that you deserved the care. Even when you began training with her, she treated you delicately. You wanted to learn how to protect yourself and she stepped right in and became the perfect teacher. You also began going to the gym with Pietro at least once a week. You weren’t trying to be buff, but just in shape enough to defend yourself if you needed.

Even though your outward appearance changed to be stronger. You felt as though Wanda saw right through that into your deepest insecurities and tended to them accordingly.

Your daydreaming is cut short by Pietro busting out of the warehouse where the drop was supposed to take place, with the goods still in his hand.

“DRIVE! DRIVE! DRIVE!”

He jumps into the passenger seat, and you hit the gas. Pietro is talking to you, but your adrenaline is kicking in. Your fieldwork doesn’t really get this exciting without a debrief. Getaway driver is definitely a new change in speed.

Your eyes focus solely on the road, ignoring what the man is saying as his chest heaves up and down. A quick glance in the rearview mirror tells you that they are following you. While you are curious about what happened, those questions can be answered later.

Pietro is actually mildly impressed with your driving skills. Your sharp turns and redirections are top notch in his opinion. Though you are doing great the guys are still tailing you.

You think for a moment, trying to remember the nearest parking garage. You realize that it’s behind you and brake hard, you weave through oncoming traffic to try to get to the parking garage.

“Get ready to hop out,” you say to Pietro parking the car. Once you do the blonde starts running on foot and you call after him. He stops in his tracks frantic until he sees you breaking into another car. When you get in you drive normally out of the parking structure and straight back to the office.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n I didn’t know you could drive like that?”

Pietro grabs the wooden box from his lap before walking to the elevator. He wipes his hands on his jeans and proceeds as though it was a just another day.

“So, what the fuck happened?”

He raises an eyebrow, “You weren’t listening in the car?”

“Duh, I was a little preoccupied with the whole driving for my life thing.”

“I guess you'll hear it when I tell Papa then.”

The two of you are definitely headed to the top floor of the building to inform Dragos of what has transpired. Pietro is never one for knocking and simply barges into the man’s office.

“Papa, do you have a- Sestra?”

Pietro’s sentence dies in his throat as he gets a glimpse of his older sister. He wastes no time sitting in the wooden box on a couch nearby and scooping up the redhead in a tight hug. You could hear them exchanging more words in their mother language. It’s an unexpectedly tender moment as Pietro tries to keep things on the light side.

Somewhere in the hug Wanda’s eyes land on you and they widen slightly. She untangles herself from her brother to get a good look at you. She’s older, as expected, but age had been more than kind to her. Wanda looks as elegant as ever, an air of distinguish surrounds her.

The way she looks at you makes you feel like a teenager again. You do your best not to squirm under her gaze. When a smile placed itself on her lips, you feel relief washing over you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she pulls you in to a big hug.

Her hands rise to hold your face, pulling back just slightly. She wants to get a good look at you. The softness of her hands causes you to blush.

“You’ve grown up on me little krolik.”

She releases the hold, and you speak, “You’ve been gone a long time, Wanda.”

There it is, in your voice for the first time in years; That fragile tone that you had only ever allowed Wanda to hear. You hope it didn't sound as desperate to everyone else in the room and it didn't. But Wanda picked up on it instantly.

“I have, but now I'm back; permanently,” Wanda says, keeping her eyes on you.

“And she brought a friend,” Dragos interjects, and you watch Wanda roll her eyes.

“She’s more than a friend Papa, she’s my wife and she’s sitting right here. I expect you to treat her kindly.”

Wanda is married and to a woman. Your mind scrambles to piece together what had happened in the years that she was gone for this to be the case. It is hard for you to digest what the woman had said. Your breathing becomes a little shallow, but no one takes notice.

Finally, you take notice of the other woman in the room, sitting in the chair next to the one Wanda had just been sitting in. Your mouth dries at the sight of her. The woman is stunning. Her auburn hair is a few shades darker than Wanda’s. She has a button nose, soft pink lips and piercing green eyes. You couldn't be mad at Wanda for marrying such a beautiful woman.

“Sestra, you’re married?” Pietro exclaims, looking between the two women dramatically.

“Yes; Y/n, Pietro, this is my wife, Natasha Romanoff.”

Your eyes linger on the woman even when Dragos claps his hands together to get the attention of the room, “Piet you were saying something important. I see that Mr. H didn't get his package.”

Any further pleasantries would have to wait.

“Papa it was a bad deal. They tried short me on our exchange, so I told them they could either bring me the rest of what they owe, or I’d be walking. They planned to take the package from me, so I ran immediately to the car. Of course they chased after me, but thanks to need for speed over here we got away.”

Dragos pinches the bridge of his nose lightly, “Don’t I always say being back up?”

Pietro answers back, “I took Y/n.”

This causes Natasha to chuckle a bit.

Your eyes narrow at her, “Something funny?”

She doesn’t back down, “Well from the way Wanda described you, you don't necessarily scream back up.”

Your jaw clenches slightly and you steal a quick glance at Wanda, “Wanda hasn’t seen me in over 5 years. I’m not that fragile little kid anymore.”

Dragos nods proudly, “Y/n is the biggest asset we have in this organization. She’s by far the glue that holds this all together and I will not tolerate any disrespect thrown her way.” The final part of his sentence carries a lot of weight to it, it’s a verbal warning.

Wanda clears her throat, “Hammerhead is a loyal customer, why would he try to cheat us?”

“He could have a new dealer,” you speak up. “Someone who might be charging less for similar goods.”

“You think someone is dumb enough to try to undercut us?” Pietro questions.

You speak candidly, “I think that people in this city can be greedy, and greed blinds all good sense.”

Dragos clearly agrees, “We need eyes and ears on the streets listening to anything about dealers that aren't us. I need a meeting with Hammerhead to make sure he’s got that big ugly head of his on straight. Y/n if I can't sell this, I'm going to have see a profit of this quantity somewhere else on the sheets.”

“Let Natasha and I come with you to your meeting Papa. I want you to see what we're capable of.”

“Papa, is this woman going to be joining our group?” Pietro asks.

You turn your attention to Dragos, curious of what the man has to say. There is an unbridled shine in Wanda’s eyes and a small upturn of Natasha’s lip. They seem to think that the man would say yes immediately.

Instead, he heavily sighs, “For now Ms. Romanoff is simply Wanda’s… wife. There is a chance that she’ll be given access to join. However, her involvement isn’t guaranteed. So just to be clear, she’s not going to be sitting in on the meeting.”

Wanda wants to fight back, you can tell, but she refrains. The playfulness of her features dissipates as she responds, “Is she at least allowed to stay and watch them work?”

“Y/n do you mind if Ms. Romanoff shadows you for the rest of the day?” You know what Dragos was actually asking of you. He wants you to vet her.

Your eyes land on the woman, staring at her intensely, “Sure.”

She squirms in her seat which makes you smile a bit.

“Pietro,” Dragos starts.

“Eyes & ears I’ve got it Papa,” he’s out of the door fast, setting the plan in motion.

Dragos presses a small button on his desk, “Kate can you set up a meeting between Hammerhead & I. It needs to be as soon as possible. Make it clear that if I’m kept waiting, there will be extra fees to pay. Ones that can't be bought by money.”

“No problem Mr. Maximoff. Should I have Clint get the car ready?” She responds over the intercom.

“That’ll be great, thank you Kate.”

Now it is Wanda who claps her hands, “So I guess it’s time to get to work. Which mean it’s time to say goodbye to my beautiful wife and my little krolik.”

Natasha stands from her seat and places a gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips. “Be safe,” she murmurs, not quite ready to part from her wife.

“I’ll be fine Nat, it’s just business as usual.”

Something about the two women in the same line of sight together made you feel weird. You had seen beautiful couples before, but you seem to be a little mesmerized by the sight of Natasha and Wanda. For now, you would say that it was just the shock of seeing Wanda after all these years and being blindsided by the news of her marriage.

“Have you changed too much to give me a hug before you go?”

The teasing tone in Wanda’s voice makes you roll your eyes. You walk over to her nonetheless, “I hugged you earlier, you know.”

Wanda doesn’t hesitate to pull you into another hug. “I know, but maybe two is too much for the new Y/n.”

You look up at her, maybe for a second too long, and you can’t help yourself, “Don’t worry, part of me is still your little krolik.”

A slight blush paints over her features as she smiles at you, “Good, keep my wife safe, ok?”

Your eyes cut to Natasha, “Of course, I’ll leave you guys to it.”

You walk out of the office with Wanda’s wife trailing closely behind you.

“So, are you going to show me what makes you the glue?”

Her words make smile tug on the edge of your lips, “If you’re lucky.”

#lowkeyerror #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #pietro maximoff #kate bishop #clint barton

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ddejavvu · 8 months

Note

Hi!! So I saw your post for Anakin request and I thought of one. Remember that scene where Anakin and Obi wan go in a club? So I was thinking that scene with Reader and Anakin seeing Reader getting hit on and his being a little jelly. Reader gotta remind him that its him that she wants

Debilitating Desire - Anakin Skywalker x Reader (18+)

Summary: Anakin doesn't handle jealousy well. When a sleazy patron of a bar you're investigating decides he's got the right to touch you, and Anakin can't react because your relationship is a secret, he has to save his outburst for later. Unfortunately, he's only able to make it a few steps down the street before he decides he needs you, right here, right now.

Contents/Warnings: jedi!reader, fem!reader, smut (minors dni), p in v, rough sex, biting, overstimulation, semi-public sex (they're in an alleyway), jealousy, reader gets grabbed by the wrist by a creepy guy </3, lots and lots of messy kisses, anakin's a little possessive but is anyone surprised

WC: 5.2K / navigation / inbox / send me anakin requests!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Scouting information from bartenders is next to impossible, but scouting it from their patrons is much easier. Loose-lipped drunks are your targets tonight, and you reconvene with Anakin to corroborate information after gathering intel.

"Okay, I've got a Twi'lek male," You start, and Anakin shakes his head.

"No, no, one of the men I talked to said he was Neimoidian."

"Someone else said Rodian," You groan, "Anakin, maybe we should be asking people who aren't drunk."

"Look around," The man before you scoffs, gesturing to the bar full of nothing but reeling, wobbly drunks, "No one here is sober but him."

"He doesn't have a translator on hand," You drawl, looking at the Ithorian bartender who purposefully 'forgets' his translator whenever someone tries questioning him, "And we don't either."

"We're not getting anywhere," Anakin concludes, a sour scowl on his face as he reaches for your waist to lead you out. "No one's sober, so let's just go, and-"

"I'm sober." A raspy, near-hoarse voice comes from a table nearby, and a hand catches your wrist. Your instinct is to reel back but you don't, even when Anakin's hand tries prying you away with its gloved grip on your waist.

It's a human speaking to you, as far as you can tell, and he's leaning back into the shadowy corner of the bar that he'd been occupying. You're not sure for how long, but if he knows anything about the incident you're trying to gather intel on, you'd like to hear it.

"How long have you been here, sir?" You question, tensing slightly when the man's hand stays firm around your wrist.

"Couple hours," He looks smug, knowing he's holding prized information from two Jedi, "Something you'd like to ask me?"

"You've been here for a couple hours and you're sober?" Anakin questions, pressing you harder into his side in his futile attempt to casually tear you away from the man, "I don't believe that."

"I can hold my liquor," The man boasts, voice far more harsh when addressing Anakin than yourself, "Among other things."

Anakin's had enough. He grabs your hand, stealing it away from the seedy man's grasp and scoffing something unintelligible at him. But you yank him back, a tense smile on your face as you tilt your head towards him urgently.

"I'd like to find out what he knows," You speak forcefully, leaving no room for argument even if Anakin is especially good at creating them.

He scowls at you with an intensity that would normally excite you, though you're not sure you're capable of any feeling other than creeped in the bar you're standing in now.

"You're welcome to go back to the transport if you'd like," You narrow your eyes at Anakin, and the man in the booth leans back smugly at the offer, "But I'm going to do my job."

"Yes, boy," The man disregards Anakin's hands clenching at his sides, "Go back to your ship. You're not needed."

"I'm fine here," Anakin snaps, and the second you sit down across from the man, his hands are on your shoulders as he stands behind you. He grips them tight but the gloved hand clenches just a little more into your skin, and the firm grip grounds you, keeping your voice steady when you speak.

"If you've been here for a couple of hours, you probably witnessed an unfortunate incident a little while ago, didn't you? A fight?"

"There's lots of fights here," The man hums, pretending to think on it, "Can you be more specific?"

"The victim had seven blaster wounds," Anakin seethes, hands only tightening in their grip on your shoulders, "You happen to hear seven blasts?"

"Eight." You mutter, pointing at a singed hole in the wall, "One missed."

"Ah, blaster fight," The man in front of you strokes a hand thoughtfully along his stubbled jaw, "Yeah, 'think I can remember something like that. Some incentive might help jog me a bit, though."

You're not sure whether he means money or sex, but you can't rule either out with the way he's staring. You'd have expected the modest Jedi robes you're wearing to deter any wandering eyes but evidently, some people can't be discouraged.

"We don't have any incentive to offer," You narrow your eyes at him, and Anakin takes over.

"Unless by incentive you mean your life. Tell us what you saw, or you'll envy the target of those blasts."

Your annoyance boils just beneath your skin at Anakin's threats, but you know he won't listen to your urgings to be more careful with his word choice. This man doesn't exactly seem like he'd file a formal complaint with the Jedi Council, but if word ever got around that Anakin was threatening unnecessary violence, you're sure it wouldn't go over well.

Despite Anakin's words having been nothing but a bluff, the man changes his tune when he notices the saber clipped to Anakin's belt, your own hidden beneath the edge of the table. He straightens in his seat, sighing in annoyance, "It was two Neimoidians. Dressed real fancy, stood out like sore thumbs in this place. They cornered some unlucky human over there," He points to the corner of the bar where the singe mark hangs over the cheap decor, "She tried to run, but a Rodian shot her down."

"One Rodian?" You ask, and the man nods.

"Hell of a shot." The man muses with a gnarled grin, and that only makes you more worried. Hell of a shot but he'd fired eight? Clearly they wanted this human - who you have good reason to believe was an undercover informant working against the Separatists - dead.

"The shooter and the Neimoidians were working together?" Anakin confirms, receiving another nod from the man opposite you.

"Thank you," You stand, and to your delight, Anakin's hands snake down your back, the strong, gloved one finding your waist again like a magnet.

"I'm here most nights," The man calls out before you can leave, and you turn to glance at him in disdain as he props his feet up onto the dingy table, "Love to see 'ya off duty, sweetheart."

"Go," Anakin spits against your ear, grip on your waist turning harsh. Your breath hitches and you let Anakin practically push you out of the bar and onto the streets, teeming with civilians until you duck into an alleyway three blocks down from the door.

You're immediately backed up against the wall of the building behind you, but you're too fired up to care as you glare at Anakin, "Don't start with me. Threatening him, Anakin? What if Obi-Wan found out?"

"Obi-Wan is going to be too busy tracking down those Neimoidians to care how we got it out of the guy," Anakin scoffs and the exasperated breath hits your face. His expression only darkens further at the mention of the older man, "That's not the point. Did you see the way he was looking at you?"

"That doesn't matter," You assure Anakin with a soft sigh, but from the distasteful curl of his lips into a hard sneer, it does matter. He's standing tall in front of you with ragged, angry breaths coming from his chest, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he tries containing his upset. It's not aimed at you, of course, but it's a sight nevertheless. He's all sharp features and tense muscles, rage brewing inside of him that's sure to spill over if you don't turn down the heat in time.

"Men like that are creeps," You dismiss, but Anakin is much less eager to let the situation go, still pressing you against the wall of the dingy alleyway, "Women don't talk to him unless he pays them to, is it any surprise he was forward when I approached him for free?"

"But you gave him no indication-" Anakin gushes, poorly-contained rage grating at his rough voice, "I don't understand. I don't understand how I'm supposed to be yours, how you're supposed to be mine, if people like him think you're theirs for the taking."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks, he can't have me, Anakin." You assure him. You know it's hard for him, being secretive about your relationship. Anakin is highly devoted, to his work, to his training, but most of all to you, and to have to stuff that down whenever you're not alone grates on his nerves.

Your answer doesn't seem to persuade him, so you brace your hand against his rapidly rising and falling chest, "He can't have me because I'm yours, Anakin."

Whatever hateful haze has clouded over his eyes clears like fog as he blinks at your words, probably muscling down hot tears of frustration. He surges forwards to kiss you, and it's hard to be upset that you're pressed against a dirty wall when Anakin's mouth is on your own.

His kisses are fervent and desperate, lips relentlessly catching your own between them. They're sloppy as his hands find your waist like there's magnets in your blood, his palms oppositely charged.

"I want you," He pleads, voice rough and ragged, "I want you all the time. I wanted to take your hand in there. I wanted to take more than your hand," He pants, speaking against your lips that have grown dewy from his saliva. "I wanted to grab your jaw-" He mimics the action, gloved hand clenching at your chin, "And- and kiss you, and bend you right over his table and take you."

"Right in his face," Anakin grunts, and you feel his cock beginning to stiffen through the layers of his robes as he presses himself to you. "Right in his fucking face, angel, I wanted to have you."

"You have me now," You breathe, equally as lustful as you press sticky kiss after sticky kiss to Anakin's tense jawline, "Ani, you have me now, and you have me forever."

"Forever," He groans, and you can see his eyes dilate at the thought. He's perpetually breathless as he chooses to spend his oxygen by kissing you once more. It's all heavy pants and strings of drool, appropriate for the dark, damp alleyway you're hidden in; a dirty fuck for a dirty place.

"Anakin," You moan, your pussy pulsing as his tongue smooths over your top lip, "I need you, here-" Your words muffle as Anakin licks flat over your lips, practically drinking the words out of your mouth, "-here and now. I know it's dirty, but I- I need it. I need you. Please?"

"Say it again," He orders, kissing you so that you can't.

You have to speak while he's still dragging his thick, wet tongue over yours, "I need you."

"More," He presses, his nose now nudging at your cheek as he tilts his head, granting himself only deeper access to your warm mouth.

"I need you," You vow, words garbled as he never backs away from your mouth, "Anakin, I need you."

"You have me," He groans, reveling in the pleasure that your words bring him. His hips roll compulsively against yours, grating through the many layers of robes you're both clad in like he can't stop them if he tries. "And I have you. Angel, I've got you, come here."

He says it like you're trying to leave, like you're not smashed flat between him and a wall. But you try anyways, slinging your hand around his neck to drag him in closer.

Anakin was focused on undoing your belt, but when you pull him close with your arm wrapped behind his neck he pauses, eyes closing as he knocks his forehead against yours.

"Ani-"

"He touched you," Anakin remembers, reaching up to take your wrist in his hand. He holds it delicately, bringing it between your faces to kiss the soft skin against the inside, "He grabbed you. He touched you right here," He peppers more soft kisses against your wrist, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," You hum softly, lips still slick with Anakin's spit, "It was just creepy, that's all. It didn't hurt."

"I'm sorry. I love you," He tells the skin of your wrist, and your hand naturally fits against his cheek, your fingertips ghosting over his ear.

"I love you," You repeat him, and his eyes flit back to your own.

"I love you." He rushes in for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the last. His tongue probes freely through your mouth, he's always been good with it, and your cunt clenches around nothing as Anakin's hands slide back to your waist. This time he lets you sling both of your arms around his neck, shuddering into the kiss when your nails scrape up the baby hairs at the base of his neck.

"Fuck," He groans against your mouth, fingers tugging more desperately now on the belt that he's so accustomed to putting on and taking off. Finally he undoes the buckle, letting it slide down to your ankles. You feel dirty as you hear the clatter of your saber against the ground; you're getting stripped and fucked in a dingy alleyway. But It releases the waistband of your pants, and shame gives way to pleasure as Anakin pries eagerly at the clasp.

"Touch me," You beg, and he's one step ahead of you. His hand presses flat to your belly as he snakes it down your pants, his warm skin pressed flush to your slit as he cups your needy cunt. You feel slick gathered in your pussy, and you're sure if he slips two fingers inside, it'll gush over his digits.

"You're warm," He murmurs, and you're not sure whether he means the spit he's lapping from your mouth, or the way your cunt bleeds heat against his palm. Either way, you know he likes it as his hips buck into your own again, pressing his hand further against your pussy.

"Ani," You feel his bulge through the layers of clothing he's sporting, still dragging him impossibly further with your arms around his neck, practically smashing his face into yours. "Ani, I need you inside, please?"

"I'll take care of you," He promises, kissing sweetly across your jaw, and down to your neck, "Angel, I want you to touch me."

"Hm?" Your brain is dazed, comprehending little as Anakin rolls his palm against your clit.

"Use this hand," He reaches for the one that the man inside had grabbed, "Use this hand, angel, and touch me with it. Get me hard, use the hand he touched."

"Okay," You breathe, scrambling for his belt and letting him help you with the hand that's not down your pants. A part of you is worried someone will see the two of you, but halfway disrobed and shrouded in shadow, you're not recognizable as Jedi, nor are these streets ever free from filth; you blend right in.

When Anakin's belt is undone he lets it fall just like your own had, and you gratefully slip your hands beneath the tunic it had been holding down. You have easy access to his pants now, and slipping your hand inside like he's doing to you means you're met with a half-hard dick.

"You're leaking," You observe, as precum oozes from the head of his cock. You smear it around the tip with your thumb, and his hips jerk into your hand. It's an awkward angle that you're at, stroking his dick while he cups your pussy in the palm of his hand, but it's apparently not uncomfortable to him, because with each pump of your fingers around the length of his cock, it hardens in your grip.

"Oh- fuck, get it- get it messy," He pants, straining as he tries not to cum right then and there at the sight of his pre smeared over your hand.

It's hard not to get it messy. His sticky precum oozes from the head of his dick like a steady stream, beads and beads of the stuff smeared away by your hand to help lubricate the measured strokes you're pumping over his dick.

Your fingers are soon tacky with precum, and his dick makes obscene squelching noises as you run your fist down it. He's panting as his palm grinds hard against your clit, and your hips snap into his hands, moving your entire body forwards. It means your fist slides roughly, sharply straight down to the base of his cock, and he bites back a hiss at the slight pain you've inflicted upon him.

"Now," He breathes rough and ragged, "I need you now. Maker, I'm gonna fucking-" He cuts himself off with a grunt, the hand that's cupping your wet heat flipping and twisting to yank the waistband of your pants down. It catches you by surprise, and the tantalizingly small amount of friction you'd been able to gain while grinding against his palm is gone, leaving the cool air of Coruscant's dingy lower levels to shock you.

"Put it in," He orders, his head downturned, forehead pressed against your own, "Baby, put- get me inside of you, I need-to-be-inside-of-you- there y'go."

You use your fist to line up his cock with your needy entrance, his hips more than willing to close the distance to make it easier for you. You don't get a second to adjust to the heavenly feeling of his tip brushing against your folds before he's jackhammering into you, chest now pressed tightly to your own as he slams you once more against the wall.

You let out a garbled scream as you're instantly full, the pace Anakin sets absolutely merciless on your sloppy cunt. You're well wet enough to provide lubrication for his lengthy cock, but just because you're wet doesn't mean you're ready, and the sensation of him bypassing any cautious thrusts and heading right into jackrabbit territory is one that has you crying out.

"Scream," Anakin hisses, his teeth digging harshly into your plush bottom lip. He licks over the stinging bite mark seconds later, the wet muscle sweeping over your own, "Scream as loud as you can, angel. I want him to hear. Tell him," He pulls away from your mouth only to wrestle your face to the side, his gloved hand gripping tight at your jaw.

"Tell him," Anakin urges, kissing and licking sticky stripes up your neck, "Tell that miserable old creep who makes you scream. Tell him who you love, tell him who fucks you into the wall."

"A- Ani-" You try, but it's not good enough for the man still relentlessly pounding his hips against yours. His free hand is gripping the pliant flesh of your ass with a force that surely means your chub is spilling through his fingers, and he uses the grip to hike your leg up, giving him a better angle to destroy your drooling cunt from.

"Louder. Say it louder." Anakin demands, forcing your jaw open with his hand, "Tell him!"

It's terribly difficult to power through the rather attention-grabbing sensation of Anakin's rock-hard cock bullying your wet cunt. He's rougher than he needs to be, balls slapping hard against the flesh of your ass that he's got in his hold.

But you have to try, and with an embarrassingly loud, desperate pitch to your voice, you scream, "Anakin!"

The second his name comes spilling from your lips in a wanton cry he manhandles your face back towards him, jamming his lips over your own.

"Maker," He growls, "You're so fucking perfect. I tell you to scream my name and you do it," He revels in your obedience, tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your mouth. He holds it open with his fingers pinched into your cheeks but he doesn't venture inside, merely flattening his tongue over your stinging, swollen lips to leave a drooly residue behind. Only once you've been marked does he delve his tongue between your lips, licking at your own like it's his last meal.

"You're so good for me," His words slur together in their intensity, voice thick and raw with obsession, "Nngh, you're so-" You reach down, barely able to coordinate enough brainpower to take his balls into your hand, massaging them as best you can while his hips piston in and out of you at record pace, "-you're so good to me, Angel. More, give me- more, I want more." He begs, the words spilling over your tongue. He grabs tighter at the flesh of your ass, surely bruising the skin and leaving you sore tomorrow.

"Ah! Anakin," You cry, the feeling of his tongue lapping at your own and swapping spit until there's pools of it around your teeth sending a pulse of electricity straight to your core that makes it throb. Anakin feels your cunt convulse, only pushing his tongue further into your mouth. He's a presence; every part of his body is touching every part of your body. He's all-consuming, he's an enigma, he's yours.

Anakin fucks you harder and faster than ever before. All of his strength training must have done wonders because you can't fathom how he's able to generate that much power this fast, but his hips ram into you while his gloved hand releases your ass to pinch at your clit. He abuses the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his fingers to coax more convulsions out of your sticky cunt.

It works.

The pressure that Anakin presses around your clit lights a live wire of hot, heavy arousal that trails up your spine, heat flowing from where Anakin is still latched onto your shoulder right down to your throbbing core. All of a sudden it's too much, everything is too much, and you feel your orgasm hit you like a speeder, knocking the breath out of your lungs as white hot pleasure burns at your cunt. It's a sensation that splatters firework-worthy bliss from your head to your toes, and your thighs tremble as Anakin fucks you through what might be the most intense, violent orgasm of your life.

"Anakin!" You scream.

Everything he does is rough, from the way his teeth nip at your lips, to the way he's trying to suck your tongue down his throat, to the way his fingers bully your puffy clit, to the way the head of his cock pounds into you with enough force to bruise. It's rough, it's messy, it's aggressive, and it's wonderful. You've never felt such pure jealousy radiating off of Anakin before, and you think it's because you've never been able to indulge him so soon after his jealousy blooms. If he's wary of someone in the temple you have to wait until nightfall to fuck, and if the incident occurs any time before dinner he's more mellow when he finally has you. But now it's fresh, now the brand of raging jealousy is still sizzling against his brain, and he's pumping all of the residual heat straight into you.

"Kriff," He grunts, nearly biting the tip of your tongue as he tries latching onto your lower lip, "Cum. Fuck yeah, angel- angel cum for me, cum- aagh! Cum on my dick," He demands, and you couldn't deny his request if you tried. Your pussy clenches wildly around his cock, convulsing with the force of your orgasm and you claw at his back, regretful that you hadn't stripped off his shirt so that you could scratch up his skin.

All too soon the effects of Anakin's pacing and strength flip a switch, and you're twitching in overstimulation added to your bliss. There's a distinct stinging sensation that's now alongside - and possibly contributing to - your residual ecstasy. The ache is a product of Anakin's sharp thrusts, but his movements are getting sloppy, and all the while he spills obscenities in drool over your tongue.

"You're mine. Gonna fucking cum in you, gonna make you mine, gonna- aah!" He rambles, words and spit alike spilling hastily from his mouth and into your own as he struggles to keep himself steady. He's jackhammering into you so fast that you think he could knock you right through the wall if he tried. You're plastered against it, head thrown back and chest heaving as you try not to collapse under the intense amount of sensation you're receiving.

"Ani," You grip at his biceps, dragging one hand up his left arm and digging your nails into his scalp, "Ani- cum, please cum! Please," You whimper, not sure if you're begging because you need the delicious sensation of his release painting your insides, or because you might pass out if your cunt gets fucked by Anakin's stupidly big cock much more than it has been already, "Please cum!"

"You want me to cum?" He asks, a dreadful rasp to his voice as he ravages your mouth. He bites at your tongue, latches on with his teeth like a wild animal and digs them into the squirming muscle until your saliva runs hot, "You want me to cum in you, angel? You want me to fill you up- stuff you 'til you're leaking?"

"Yes," You moan, one hand still clutching his arm while the other tugs at the base of his curls, "Yes, fuck Anakin, please, I need you to give me your cum! I need your cum, please!"

"You need my cum," He revels, a growl lacing the edge of his voice that sends perpetual shivers down your spine, "You fucking need me. Wish that creep could see you now. Fucked stupid, begging for my cum. Beg for it again, baby. Beg for my cum."

"I need it!" You cry, desperate as you yank tighter at his hair, "Anakin, please, I need it!"

All of a sudden he's no longer invading your mouth, his own latching tightly to your shoulder as he sinks his teeth into you.

"Take it," He grunts gruffly against your skin as he latches onto it, dick finally twitching before spurting hot, thick globs of cum into your spent cunt. Nothing is more gratifying than the feeling of Anakin biting at your shoulder while his hips fuck his cum relentlessly into you, and you're sure you'll be sore all over tomorrow morning. He's letting out the filthiest, most obscene string of grunts against your shoulder as his teeth barely avoid breaking your skin, and though your limbs shake with overstimulation your body doesn't move because it's in his strong grip.

The feeling of him cumming inside of you is like a second orgasm of your own. It's not really a release for you, you haven't cum twice, but Anakin's warm cum flooding your core and squelching as he jerks his hips through his climax feels almost as satisfying as if you were the one cumming. His grunts and growls slowly fade as he comes down from his monumental orgasm, and when he unlocks his jaw from around your shoulder, he leaves behind a ring of teeth marks and a sheen of drool on your skin.

"Kriff," He pants, chest heaving and dick softening as he slumps against you. You're not ready for his added weight, but the little strength he has left is used to hold you upright, so you don't flatten beneath his frame.

"Are you okay?" He hums, lips moving lazily against your neck. They're still wet with spit, and you feel the stuff cooling on your skin.

"I'm okay," You decide, "But- but I don't think I can walk, Ani."

You feel him smile, hear him huff out a laugh even though his eyes are drooping, "I'm sorry. I- It's like I couldn't control myself," He admits, breath fanning warm and wet against your neck, "Not after seeing him grab you."

"I know," You stroke a gentle hand through his sweaty curls, happy to be close to him now that your veins aren't pumping lust through your entire system.

"If Obi-Wan asks," Anakin straightens up, his limbs surprisingly strong for how aggressively he'd fucked you, "You got shoved around by a nasty patron, okay? We'll say they caught you by surprise when you were trying to talk to the bartender."

"Okay." You nod, letting him do all of the work in retrieving your belts from the ground and securing yours around your waist. He hooks his own tightly, his saber thankfully unharmed from being dropped.

"Come here," He holds his arms out, but you barely move to help him scoop you up. He does the lifting on his own, letting you sling your spent arms around his neck and laze your head against his shoulder.

Anakin makes it out of the alleyway, but when he should turn left towards your speeder, he veers right.

"Anakin," You frown, lifting your head wearily to see him approaching the bar again, "Anakin, our speeder's the other way."

"I want you to talk to him," His voice is firm, not much of its honey-sweetness left that had been there after you'd fucked in the dingy alleyway, "I want you to stand there, while I hold you up, and I want you to inform him he'll be questioned by the Jedi Council about what he saw. I want you to lie to him while my cum drips down your legs, angel." He murmurs, his words impossibly filthy even for the setting you're in, "Can you do that?"

"He won't be examined by the Council," Your hazy brain struggles to keep up, "What do you mean?"

"Lie to him." Anakin repeats, eyes slightly darker than they usually are, "Make him afraid while your pussy leaks my cum."

"Okay," You nod willingly, letting Anakin brace your feet on the ground with one of your arms slung over his shoulder to lead you into the bar. Your legs are shaky, you look a mess, but you could be perceived as someone coming away from a nasty fight, so you hold your head high and try to control your thoughts.

"There," Anakin murmurs, spotting the old man where he's already watching you from the corner, "Do it, angel."

Anakin leads you over, stopping short in front of the man's table so that he can't touch you again. He looks pleased at your return, albeit confused as to why you're a mess.

"The Jedi Council wants to speak with you," You recite obediently as the man's eyes widen slightly in apprehension. You can already feel the slow trickle of Anakin's thick cum leaking down your thighs now that you're upright, and it almost distracts you from what you're saying. "They want to know your role in the fight, and what you observed if that's truly all you did. They suspect that you might be working against the Republic, and-"

"I'm not talking to the Jedi Council," The man's face curls into a sneer and his voice is gruff, but not pleasantly so, like Anakin's. He stands from his seat rather uncoordinatedly and bolts for the door, surely expecting you to chase after him. But you don't, you couldn't if you tried, and Anakin gathers you back into his arms.

"Good." He hums, resisting the urge to kiss your forehead for fear of outing your relations, 'You did good, angel. I'm proud of you."

"We'll have to sneak into the temple without interception," You plan as your head rests once more on Anakin's shoulder. He navigates the crowded bar perfectly with you in his arms, and this time he turns towards your speeder like he's supposed to. "Obi-Wan will be waiting for us, but you can tell him to gather the Council, that way we'll have time to clean up."

"Oh, no." Anakin's chuckle is dark as he lowers you into the seat of your speeder. He kisses at your forehead, strokes away a bead of sweat at your hairline, "No, angel. You'll speak to the Council the same way you spoke to that lowlife. With my cum dripping down your thighs."

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mrchiipchrome · 3 months

Text

The Mechanic

W.C. - 4.2k

A/n: This was a bit rushed and not very good but anyways I’m going to bed now

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Growing up, your father had been a mechanic and when you had days off from school he would bring you down to the auto shop he owned and worked at. Later, that would turn into you spending your afternoons and weekends down at the shop, learning everything there was to know about cars and how to repair them.

After graduating secondary school you were employed by the shop you had grown up in, rising through the ranks like any usual person would their job. You had close to no help from your father after your employment, he had always been clear that you had to work to get to your position especially if you wanted to one day inherit the shop.

So when your father died, you had more than enough experience with how to run an auto shop. In reality you were nothing less than a parentless kid trying to navigate their way through life without their biggest role model and simultaneous favorite person.

But eventually you found your footing, with the help of a bit of therapy that you'd gone to reluctantly, and had managed to find the balance between repairing cars and handling everything else that came with owning your own mechanic shop.

Still you consider yourself lucky, lucky for having Mitch who had been helping you with all the financials and all the other confusing things.

Mitch, or as you knew him Uncle Mitch, had been one of your father’s childhood friends and had been around since before you had been born. He was there for your father when your mother decided that she didn’t want to be part of your life and when he had no choice but to become a single father. He took you to school on the days your father couldn’t and helped you with school work.

So when a very pretty girl with car problems appeared one day, he was the first one to tease you about your obvious starstruck behavior.

—-

08.00 on a thursday and you’ve already been at work for a few hours, finishing up some paperwork and a couple small repairs on easier cars before all the other mechanics came in at 9. Hearing someone walk in through the open garage door is not an unusual feat, in fact you were used to your other mechanics coming in a bit earlier, so when uncertain footsteps echo in the peopleless shop you don’t roll out from where you’re situated under the car.

“Um, hi. My car just broke down like 2 minutes from here and I have no idea what to do.��

The soft fleeting voice is feminine and unfamiliar, definitely not one of your mechanics with their gruff chain smoking voices. Your head perks up and the hand holding the wrench from your tool set stills. With hands covered in soot and oil like most of your work clothes, you slide out from your place underneath the car.

“What seems to be the problem with it? Did it indicate something might've been wrong before it broke down? Any unusual sounds…?” Your voice trails off as you see the gorgeous blonde standing there looking around in curiosity, seeing all the different cars around the large shop. You just stand there, like an idiot seemingly enamored by the pretty stranger in front of you. She doesn’t seem to acknowledge your clear inability to act like a normal human as she directs her eyes toward you, eyes not even the greatest poets could try to describe.

The woman fiddles with the rings adorning her slender fingers as she rushes to explain the moments prior to her car stopping functioning.

“Oh god, yeah. I was supposed to come in for an oil change but then out of nowhere, my car started to make these kinds of crunching sounds and then there was a slight pop before it just broke down. Since I was supposed to come here, I knew it wasn’t that far so I left it with my friend and ran here for help”

The stress she’s feeling is evident in her actions and a surprising sense of protectiveness overtakes you, a feeling you can only describe as wanting to wrap her up in bubble wrap and protect her from the cruel world.

“Alright, have you called a tow truck yet?” The blush that immediately covers her face indicates that she had not, apparently not thinking that far. A sly smile takes over your face, fingers wrapping around a towel laying haphazardly on the deep red metal bench.

The soot and grime your fingers are covered in transfers over to the white surface of the towel, more soot at your hairline and your nose.

“You’re in luck miss, we have our very own tow truck.” Your hands shake deliberately as you try to lighten the mood, leading the blonde girl over to the regular truck you had. It was an old model, but damn if that car didn’t run perfectly. It had been a gift from Mitch for your 18th birthday, he knew that you adored putting excessive amounts of effort into your projects, and that car was truly a piece of work.

It had taken you a few short weeks to get it done, you were somewhat of a prodigy.

“Hey, take the passenger seat! I need you to show me where your car broke down.” You shouted as the blonde girl made no motion to move in any direction. She slowly shuffles her feet towards the car,enjoying the way your eyes raked over her body.

“Okay, so basically it’s just up the road, you’ll see a tiny dutchie standing beside it panicking.” She laughs softly as the last words escape her mouth, and in that exact moment you decide that it’s the greatest, most beautifully enticing melody ever created.

Your eyes are glued to the road, knowing that if you were to look into her eyes once more you’d get stuck looking at her. She felt like home even though you’d just met her moments before.

“Oh yeah? Why do you have a tiny Dutch person in your car?” The banter with you the girl you’d yet to get the name of was like you’d been friends for decades, you easily bounced retorts back and forth like great friends would.

“My teammate, we were driving to training and then my car decided that it didn’t want to work anymore. Wait, I haven’t phoned Jonas yet, I’m so dead.” You didn’t understand what she was talking about at the last part, the girl seemingly talking to herself.

Just like the woman beside you had said, there was a seemingly frantic short woman besides a white Mercedes. “How’d you know?” You ask the woman sitting in your car, her expression silly beyond comprehension. Her tongue was trapped between her teeth, her bright smile on display and her nose scrunched up adorably.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, right?” She fixes you with another cheeky smile, dark pink lips pulled together in the most admirable way. She was nothing if not perfect.

Her eyes shine brightly as you pull up next to her blinking car, the Dutch girl pulling the door open with a surprising amount of strength.

“Less, we are so late, Jonas is going to kill us!” Her foreign accent is quite noticeable, not that it bothers you. What did bother you was the way she threw the door of your beloved car up so violently.

“Yeah Vic, I know.” Less, as you’d come to know, told the other girl, Vic. Vic’s eyes flit over to you, taking in your non-threatening appearance and awkward smile. You wave at her before exiting your truck.

“So if you don’t mind, I’ll just pop your hood and try to find the problem.” You spoke to the taller of the two girls in front of you, who nodded her head vigorously, allowing you to do whatever it was you needed.

The smoke that escaped from beneath the hood concerned you, as did the heat of the motor beneath your fingers. It didn’t look too good for the blonde’s car, but for both her and your sake, you didn’t tell her.

“Well it’s definitely a problem with the engine, that much I’ll tell you.” A bit of worry seeps into your tone and Alessia doesn’t seem to like it.

“But my car will be fine right?” She was worried beyond recognition.

“Yeah, they say that I’ve got magic fingers for a reason” You sent her a quick wink, the statement true in both ways. The blonde’s face darkened significantly, red sprouting at every soft turn of the face.

“Okay there Casanova, why don’t you just hook the car to yours and take it back to the shop?” The dutchie’s tone left no room for argument, clearly she was protective of the blonde.

Pulling the wires from your trunk, you quickly hooked her car to yours in a safe way, making sure that her keys were out of the ignition and that her car was completely turned off.

Vic jumped into the backseat begrudgingly whilst Less took her place in the passenger seat.

You drove back to the garage in a slow pace, not wanting to damage the car behind more, plus you got to have the beautiful blonde in your car for longer.

“Less, how are we supposed to get to training if your car’s like that?” The girl in the backseat frowns at the blonde through the mirror, but you’re already multiple steps ahead, having put your thinking hat on before.

“I can drive you, and if y’all want we can take my coolest car too.” You spoke up nonchalantly, even though you were riddled with anxiety inside.

Less shakes her head softly, putting a soft and warm hand on your shoulder, stroking down your arm.

“It’s no problem really, we’ll just take an Uber.” She waves you off, despite seeming quite excited at the prospect of showing up to ‘training’ in a cool car.

“It’s no bother, my mechanics don’t come in until 9 so I’ve got time to kill. Plus, I haven’t been able to take the baby out for a while, needed to fix her up a little after the last time.” You laugh out, hand coming up to rub at the back of your head as you pull into the workshop.

“Take your things from your car and follow me.” The two of them do exactly as you say, getting their duffle bags from the white car.

You take them to the very back of the workshop, back to the garage where you kept your most prized possessions. In the smack middle it stood, your baby.

A 1968 Ford Mustang.

It was a gorgeous, shiny black color and you’d picked up a fair few ladies with it, just like your father did before you. He’d got it from his father, they’d started working on it before your grandfather died, and your father vowed to complete the work with his child.

Unluckily, your very own father died before the project was done, and so you were left to finish it.

“Here’s my beauty, my 1968 Ford Mustang, ain’t she a beaut?” You asked the two girls, standing behind you with their mouths wide open.

“Where’d you get it? Aren’t they super expensive?” Vic asked and Less slapped her arm harshly at the latter question.

“Passed down to me and yes, they’re incredibly expensive.” You could see how their eyes looked over your car, it was safe, modernized just enough so that it wouldn’t lose its charm.

“Right, you two can squabble about who sits in the passenger seat and who sits in the back, I’ll take your bags though, no scratching my paint.” You pluck their bags from their hands and put them in the trunk whilst Less and Vic actually squabbled.

Eventually, it was Less who won the battle, her hair blowing in the cool wind that passed you by as you drove. You’d gotten the address from the younger of the two as soon as you all got settled in the car.

When you finally pull up in front of the seeming training center, it’s to the sight of multiple girls standing with mixed expressions. Some were stern, others were shocked and some were confused.

“Alessia Russo, Victoria Pelova, where have you been?” The short woman at the front asks sternly, though shock does seem to flutter over her face for a second as she clocks your ride.

“Well my car broke down so I walked to the workshop not too far away-“ Alessia starts sheepishly, her fingers scratching at her forearm.

“Where she met Casanova, who decided to help by getting Lessi’s car to the shop and then driving us here in her sweet ride.” Vic finishes off Alessia’s sentence, patting your shoulder as she climbs out of the car. Alessia once again blushes at the name Vic gave you, just as you roll your eyes at it.

“You have a really beautiful car, miss.” One of the more sheepishly shy looking girls tells you, she had an accent you just couldn’t place.

“Thank you dear, tell me, where is it you come from? I can’t place your accent.” You ask her softly, not wanting to scare the young girl.

“Uhm, Denmark miss.” She looks down at her feet, shuffling them around as she blushes more than usual.

“Oh, I’ve never been, do you have any recommendations for me when I visit?” That seems to set the young girl off as she starts to babble on about different places to visit and where you could find the best food.

Alessia looks on as you engage with her teammate, with you leaning back on the side of your car and Katherine standing in front of you.

A sudden loud noise comes from your phone, and you recognise it as the jingle you’d put for Mitch.

“Hey uncle Mitch, whatchu calling me for?” You answer the call quickly, waving a little at the girls you’d met before.

“Where are you? The shop’s empty and I don’t know if I need to remind you, but your employees arrive in 10 minutes.” He was pretty clearly stressed about your current predicament.

“Oh shit, listen Mitch I needed to help a client and I took the Mustang so I’ll be back in like, 5 minutes.” You knew that he knew exactly why you’d taken the mustang, it was simply a lady magnet.

“A ‘client’ of course, that's what your dad always said when he wanted some alone time if you know what I mean.” Even if you couldn’t see your uncle’s face you knew that he was smiling and winking slyly. Your face scrunches up uncomfortably at the insinuation, not really wanting to know of your father’s ‘endeavours’ before you.

“Ew gross Mitchy, it’s not like that.” The whisper-shout you let out into the mic has the women around you looking at you weirdly.

“Alright, alright, I’ll open for the guys but you make sure that you don’t get in too late, you still have that car from a couple days ago to finish.” Rolling your eyes at the older man, you climb back into the car and put the keys into the ignition, turning the car on and saying a quick goodbye to the girls you’d given a ride to, telling the gorgeous blonde that her car would be done in the next few days.

You were fully on the road when the blonde realized that you hadn’t given her your number, which meant that she didn’t know when her car would be done.

You on the other hand knew exactly what you were to do when the car was done, it really wasn’t hard to make the plan.

—————

“Uncle Mitch? I’m going away for like an hour to help a client, so let the guys go on break for an hour and a half. They sure do need it.” You call out for your uncle who found himself at the shop more often than not.

“Okay kid, just make sure not to fool around too much okay? I know how you are-“ He starts off with a large smile on his face before you interrupt him with your own sentence.

“Yeah just like my father, I know, it’s kind of who I was raised by, you know.” You smile at the old man whose hair was graying and face wrinkled. He was like another father figure.

“Yeah, yeah, off you go to see Juliet.” He responds, shooing you out of the main room and towards the private garage where your Mustang was located.

“What is it with people naming us after old romance stories?!” You say exasperated, but the blush covering your face tells a different tale.

Revving up your car, you quickly pull out of the garage and pull out onto the road. The wind blows through your hair and the freeing feeling makes you smile, the hot summer breeze never failing you.

As you pull up to the training grounds there’s a large group of people exiting the building, training bags over their shoulders as they talk eagerly with each other. They do notice the car that didn’t fit in, black leather seats and black shiny exterior.

When their resident clumsy friend spots the car she trips over her feet, luckily enough for her, Vic is right beside her and she manages to catch the falling forward. It’s no easy feat by any means, but the smaller midfielder manages to pull her back to her feet.

When you pull up next to them, she comes up to greet you.

“Hi Casanova” She starts off, smile splitting her face open from ear to ear. Your face mirrors hers, the stupid nickname seemingly stuck around.

“Hi Alessia, I was popping by to pick you up as the work on your car is done.” The forward eagerly puts her bag in your backseat before she’s plopping down in your passenger seat. She smiles even wider as she realizes the soft rock flowing out from your radio. All of a sudden her face turns into a mess of confusion and a bit of fear.

“Wait, how did you know when my training ended?” She was staring deep into your soul, eyes glistening in the sun.

“Well I had a little help.” Turning around to face her Dutch friend, you can see the way she winks at the blonde sitting beside you, who merely raises an eyebrow at her. There were more questions to be answered but she decided that it wasn’t worth the effort.

“Are you ready to go back to the garage?” You ask her softly, her face just so enticing that you could do no more than whisper in her presence. She nods her head though and as you’re pulling out of the parking lot you both hear a:

“Don’t forget protection!”

The blush that comes over her face makes her look like an overly ripe tomato, though you don’t have much to say, looking like a tomato yourself.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence, Alessia looking out at the streets of London like she'd never seen anything like them before and you admiring her at every red light. It’s not until you pull up at the shop that she looks at you properly, her eyes glimmering.

“So if you just follow me out here, I’ll lead you to your good as new car.” She exits your car to follow you out and towards her own, the Mercedes that you’d put extra time and effort into. Nothing but the best for the gorgeous girl.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t here to save the day, I really do owe you one.” Her seemingly never ending smile shines even brighter at the sight of her car, and as she turns to you it seems to get impossibly brighter.

“Well it’s my job you know, I kind of own the place.” It’s a hastily thrown out comment that seemingly piques her interest, Alessia’s hand coming up to rest on your slightly sooty arm.

“How do you own this place? I don’t mean it in a condescending way or anything but it’s just that you’re so young and pretty and you don’t seem like the type to buy a workshop.” She rambles in her nervousity, eyes shifting around the shop like they’d done only days before.

“I inherited it from my dad, the same with my car. He uhm, he died and my mom is like fully out of the picture so I got most of his stuff, my uncle Mitch also got some stuff but I was the main person.” She was so easy to talk to, you’d only met her days before and it felt like you’d known each other for years. Your dads death wasn’t something that you talked about often or with most people, so your heart had really taken a wild leap for the young striker.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, I know that he’s watching you with pride wherever he is.” Her hand rubs up and down your arm comfortingly, smiling sorrowfully at you as you recount your grief at the most important person in your life’s death.

“It’s not your fault, he lived his life to the fullest so I know that he was content when he died…” Alessia notices the want to change the topic of your conversation and so she shifts it to something more trivial.

“Uhm, how much do you want me to pay for this?” She asks, her voice wavering slightly at the whiplashing change of topic.

“You can pay with a hug and a kiss?” You joke lightly but it seems like the forward takes it seriously, as her hands come up to slither back around your neck, fingers tangling in your baby hairs.

Big hands settle on the blonde’s waist as she moves her face closer to yours, leaning up to rest her lips against yours in a soft embrace.

The kiss is nothing short of magical and as her tongue pokes against your lips you open your lips, basically french kissing the girl in the middle of your workshop. The kiss only breaks apart as whistles from your employees ring out throughout the shop, the guys having come back from their break.

When they finally quiet down it’s by the threat of you withholding their next paycheck and they all look away as you peck the girl’s lips a few more times before letting her leave in her fixed up Mercedes.

“Not a word of this to Mitch.” You look at them all sternly, but the knowledge that all of them had basically watched you grow up made you realize that they definitely weren’t scared of your empty threats. They sealed the deal by chuckling at you before turning back to their individual projects.

————-

In the weeks following the blonde leaving your motor shop she’d come in more than once for imaginary problems with her car, which you knew was just an excuse to see you. No one had that many problems with their car.

When she comes in fully unexpected one Thursday it’s with a fleeting problem with her motor from before.

“Hi Y/n, my car has been acting up a little again, mind checking it out for me?” She pops her head into the shop after hours, you’d just been finishing up some paperwork that needed to be done.

“Alessia, you do know that you can just ask me out on a date instead of making up problems with your car?” You prayed that you’d read the situation right, otherwise it’d be quite the awkward conversation.

“Oh thank you, it’s really hard to just come up with problems out of the blue” Her body leans on her hands that are now pressed against your desk, her face close to yours.

“So, are you going to ask me?” You ask her the question you’d been thinking about for a while, her face and the tops of her ears turning red.

“Y/n/n do you want to go on a date with me?” She asks nervously, like you’d ever reject a girl like her, a beautiful and kind soul that did nothing if not light your day up with her made up problems.

“Of course I would Less.” You respond to the girl, only for her to lean forward and capture your lips with her own. People always talk about the first kiss, but the second kiss was always so much better, and all the kisses after that were pretty great too.

Who would’ve thought, a footballer and a mechanic getting together, the very own Casanova and Juliet of the world.

Maybe some weird romance book would be written about it in a few years, but for now you were content with watching the stars with your gorgeous girlfriend in your less gorgeous (but still very beautiful) car, sharing deep kisses into the night.

#woso #alessia russo #unc soccer #woso x reader #alessia russo x reader #lionesses #arsenal wfc #woso imagine #woso imagines #woso fanfics

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cuntycheol · 9 months

Text

To You (C.SC)

Summary: Silence has always been a long-term paying guest between you and your husband. It took a cohabitation and more, to turn things around for Seungcheol and you, to figure out your true feelings.

Themes: romance, fluff, smutty, old money Seungcheol cuz he's your rich, cold but tender husband and you're his smart wifey, scenes of a firebreakout(please skip if you're triggered), some nice scenes of Singapore, and the first smut happens already (virgin!couple, slight inexperiences, orals, vanilla!) Cheol's very warm please I love him so much we'll save the real Cheol monstercock for the future ;3

WC: 7.7K (sowwy)

Playlist: Seventeen's (To You, All My Love, Falling for You SDSMSN, Darling), By My Side by Junny, Better Siopaolo , Alina Baraz (Floating, Alone with you, if you let me) I.M Flower-ed, Bibi Step

feel free to arrange them sowwy they're a lil mis arranged

A/N: helloo carats!! Had to make my first post about my man Cheol(thank u to my man) with the good ol' husband!au. It's evident im in my "oh husband cheol feelings" where we loving him real good! I've been impatient so I posted it a bit earlier than expected :D my comfort loving carats, this is based off All My Love and To You lyrics <3 I hope you enjoy this piece of writing as much as I enjoyed writing this! Happy Cheol Day you living legend coupranghae btches :")

Updated: mini sequel here <3

Life was divided into four distinct categories, after one whole month of your brand new status as Mrs. Choi, or Mr. Choi Seungcheol's wife:

Breakfasts with and for Seungcheol because he confessed he anticipates what you offer in the am

Touring the exquisite royalty of the mansion built by his great grandparents(specially the crimson paints)

Spending time with Seungcheol's Mom since she adores you more than her son!

Dinner n Slumber, where you sleep with a wall that separates you from your husband.

You don't exactly think it'd change; however you do expect it to. Everyday, you wake up in your own room, without the warmth of your husband because neither of you are exactly ready to sleep on the same bed together, and neither of you can sacrifice your comfort on the couch. Therefore a shared decision convinces your elders to grant your marriage the gift of time, a chance to understand one another before embracing a shared room and shared life. All credit to Seungcheol's mom, who chose you to be her son's perfect match, a decade ago. She envisioned you as the one to be her son's beacon of illumination in his life, and the way your personality coincides with his. Who knew you'd be repaid for your kindness of tagging along with your grandfather to meet his ailing friend, (Seungcheol's grandfather) with a coerced, arranged marriage to their youngest grandson. It was on you to navigate this relationship towards love and the more easier it sounds, the harder it gets.

Your husband's honesty shines through, expressing that his family holds the utmost importance in his heart, and he could never deny his mother's wishes. Although he initially declined the marriage proposal, the elders' persuasion led him to reluctantly agree. Absolute zero differences in both of your situations. Despite the arranged marriage, he promises to ensure your comfort and well-being. Polite knocks on your door in the morning signify his presence, seeking breakfast if you're up for the task, and he would either leave a note saying "ThankYou" or he would leave a fresh flower on the dining table as a small gesture of appreciation for your efforts in preparing breakfast, letting your pride swell with all this generosity, although you'd wish he says it with his own mouth, overcoming those barriers. Considerate compliments follow whether you're dressed in your best, try some new hairstyles, or ofcourse, after enjoying your delightful meals, was one thing that made you hopeful about this relationship.

It's evident he lacks communication, since he only speaks to you at mornings and occasionally on texts, whenever he's late. He possesses no punctuality but you're quick to realize he has a pattern in timings of when he wakes up, when he returns, when he sleeps. Throughout the day, you don't exactly see him. At nights you barely sit with him. He's either in his room or on his laptop. Nothing, among you two, seems like you're in a bond with the youngest heir of this luxurious business.

"Don't forget, the dinner's scheduled tonight" you chime, while he was leaving. He nods and drives his way out for another busy day.

Marrying a business tycoon of "old money" and serving him great breakfasts, were the last thing you expected in your simple life, where you were focused on academic and personal glowups, and rarely had any serious past relationships, or have slept with anyone.

You just believed better things await for you, and if those better things were in the shape of a young handsome husband, who were you to complain.

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"So! Have you decided a honeymoon destination?" Seungcheol's sister-in-law questions, at a calm family dinner. Seungcheol takes a sip from the drink, "I'm positively considering Greece or Bali, or maybe Fiji. We haven't played rock papers scissors yet to choose one destination" earning a small chuckle from everyone, Seungcheol continues to feast on the delicious dinner you had prepared. A variety of topics continue to be discussed and that was the only response Seungcheol ever said throughout dinner.

While the family members took their departure, after another hour of dessert sessions, you thought about his remark, if there's any depth to it. The honeymoon idea and what he has said so far, made you a bit ecstatic.

Seungcheol's seated on the couch, of the lounge upstairs, sipping his usual coffee. you lean towards the railings of the top floor, where yours and Seungcheol's bedrooms neighbored. He looks at you, with tender eyes, yet a cold expression. "So, about the whole honeymoon thing, are you-"

"Oh "don't worry about it," Seungcheol's dismissively remarks, taking another sip of his coffee. "Family dinners are meant for prying into things we wouldn't discuss on a typical morning," he explains. "And Honestly, I don't see the need for a honeymoon." Your heart sinks at his response, disappointment clouding your expression. "But I thought we could at least look at brochures together? Atleast discuss this thoroughly" you respond, trying to mask your disappointment with a glimmer of hope that he might consider it.

Seungcheol lets out a weary sigh, his tone becoming more serious. "You don't have to give in to everything my family demands. They can be nosy, but they'll eventually drop the topic after a few days." He glances down at his laptop, signaling that the matter is closed.

You can't help but feel a pang of hurt as Seungcheol's words crush your hopeful expectations. The thought of a romantic getaway had brought some solace, but now it seems like a distant dream.

"But Seungcheol," you protest softly, trying to keep your emotions without losing your temper, "it's just that a honeymoon could be a chance for us to spend some quality time together, away from only meeting on breakfasts, away from the hustle of daily life, away from being silent everyday, and both of us make an effort, to get to know each other better" He glances up from his laptop, his expression stoic, but you can sense a hint of frustration in his eyes. "I understand your perspective," he replies calmly, "but I'm not sure a honeymoon is the right way to achieve that. We can spend time together here, without the pressure of a fancy trip. We're not close enough nor we're a match to be doing this in the first place"

at this moment, you find yourself getting defensive...

"It's not about a fancy trip, Seungcheol. It's about creating memories, experiencing new things together, and building a connection outside of this huge mansion... where we live in distant bedrooms" you gesture around you, emphasizing the splendor of the place that seems to distance you both from the real world.

His eyes widen momentarily at your words, and you see a flash of emotion that he quickly hides. "It's not that," he retorts yet defensively, "I just think this honeymoon is an unnecessary pressure, and we should be honest about our feelings and not pretend."

You take a step back, hurt and anger welling up inside you. "So, all this time, we were just a pretense? You're quite audacious to say we're incompatible, considering the amount of time you spend with me. Count the days we ever went out? That's right. Zero" you scoff, "you know what, let's just forget this. Forget I ever asked you anything. Thankyou, for lightening my evening, Good Night" Before he could utter a response or rephrase everything, you stomp your way into your bedroom, hiding your face in your palms, feeling a bit guilty of losing your cool already when it hadn't been a while.

Seungcheol stood there, a mix of regret and realization washing over him. He knew he had made a mistake, once again, with his poorly chosen words to convey his thoughts. The truth was, he had never really learned how to express himself properly; heck he couldn't even say a proper "you're so pretty, I think I have started to find some meaning into this relationship?" to the woman he's been living with, in the same house. Unfortunately words often tumbled out of his mouth without a second thought, and he rarely considered how they might sound or how they could impact the other person. As a result, he found himself remaining silent at critical moments, fearing that his words might only cause more harm than good.

The argument with you had brought this flaw to the forefront of his mind. He recognized that his lack of effective communication had hurt you, leaving you disappointed and disheartened. He raises his fist to knock at your door, wishing he could take back his words and find a way to bridge the growing distance between the two of you, yet again, he retreats.

The same gesture was for you standing in front of your door, trying to atleast add a subtle apology, but an instant realization made you stomp your foot dramatically and jump into the warm bed.

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

The next day, you refuse to make any breakfast, or contribute to the daily household activities like you usually do. You sulk in your room, either pacing back and forth, ordering your meal,coffee and everything upstairs.

It angered you how much you like Seungcheol. How deep of an infatuation you've developed towards him, in such a short time, finding glimpses of someone beneath the surface that you want to know better. Yet, the argument hangs heavy in the air, making you doubt whether your budding emotions stand a chance. You journal everything; how much of an asshole he is to not communicate properly, how many layers are there to him, and the only time you two talk, is for an arguement? Everything frustrated you. You hear Seungcheol in the distant, and as much as you were cross with him, you want to look at him, and admire his presence. Although its the first ever arguement you two share, the typical wife in you, expects flowers and apologies first from your husband.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, would often glance upstairs, or at your door. He would expect to see your charming face, he silently admires. Only to slump his shoulders and leave for work everyday.

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Two days pass by, and midnights strike, as you sit alone in your room, the argument with Seungcheol still fresh in your mind, you try to calm your emotions, occassionally collecting your thoughts in process of reading. Lost in your contemplation, you fail to notice the faint smell of burning wires in the air. The faulty switch connected to the lamp had been giving you trouble for a while, but you hadn't paid much attention to it, thinking it was a minor inconvenience, and indeed the most minor issues ignite major disasters.

Suddenly, a small spark ignites near the switch, and within seconds, the flames start to spread rapidly. Second situation of the night escalating this quick. Panic sets in as you realize the danger you're in.

Your heart races as you rush to the door, only to find that it's jammed, likely due to the fire's heat warping the frame. Fear grips you, knowing you're trapped. With no time to waste, you quickly grab your phone and dial the emergency number. Your voice trembles as you explain the situation and your exact location in the house. You yell out Seungcheol's name, as loud as possible, but unable to do so with the smoke rising.

Soon it starts to fill the room, making it hard to breathe. You look around for something to cover your mouth and nose, finding a nearby cloth to protect yourself as you wait for help to arrive. With all your remaining strength, you fan the rising smoke outside the door, to trigger the smoke alarms.

Seungcheol, who was now downstairs fetching a glass of wine trying to prompt an apology for the day he gathers his courage to, smells the smoke and hears the faint crackling of flames; soon he's shaken by the fire alarms sensing smoke. Panic overtakes him as he realizes this leads to your room. As he rushes upstairs, he hears faint bangings from your room, which stops. He calls out your name, but there's no response. Fear for your safety drives him to take action.

Seungcheol approaches the door, with all his force, he breaks it open. only to find the room engulfed in flames. Your figure is barely visible through the dense smoke. He rushes towards your feeble helpless frame, ignoring the scorching heat and billowing smoke. He finds you near window, trying to escape the inferno. With tears in his eyes, he wraps you in his arms and guides you towards the window, with the flames slowly engulfing the entrance door of your room.

In a span of a few minutes, sirens grows louder, and moments later, paramedics and fire brigades arrive, rushing to extinguish the flames and rescue both of you. They break through the main gates, helping you and Seungcheol escape to safety.

"Please check on her! She was unconcious and barely breathing I'm -I Plea-" Seungcheol fails to form a proper sentence.

"Please calm down sir, we're checking on her, and we'll assisst you. You are...?"

"Her husband! Please hurry and check on her god damnit!!" He yells in frustration hoping you're safe.

Soon, you were able to breathe on your own, and slowly you flutter your eyes open, chest heaving from the sudden attack of the horrific accident. Before it could escalate any further, you were given appropriate medications to trigger your drowsiness.

In the aftermath tranquility of this burning situation, Seungcheol stand outside, watching as firefighters work tirelessly to put out the remaining flames. Grateful to have survived the terrifying ordeal, he holds onto your numb hands, finaly letting his tears slip his eyes. He was so grateful to stop a major tragedy, and you're safe, with him.

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The morning sunlight gently seeps through the curtains as you feel it, only to be met with haunting flashbacks of the previous night's terrifying fire, your hopeless voice calling your husband's name, beneath your vision. You shot your eyes open and sit up, heart pounding in your chest as the vivid memories replay in your mind, leaving you trembling with fear. Tears stream down your cheeks as the trauma overwhelms you, and you find it hard to catch your breath.

Seungcheol's immediately awaken by your distress, pulling you into his arms. " I'm here y/n calm down shush..." he whispers tenderly, stroking your head, trying to comfort your trembling body as best as he can. He embraces you tightly in his arms, allowing you to cry and release the floodgates of emotions open from the harrowing experience.

He listens to your trembling sobs, his heartbeats a steady rhythm against your ear, and he continues to stroke your arms and back, comforting you through the turmoil. As you find consolation in his warmth, your clenched fists loosen their grip on the fabric of his shirt, his touch brings a sense of safety and reassurance that you desperately need in this moment. You look at him through your red eyes, as he smiles at you endearingly.

"Seungcheol- I...I'm so sorry" you sniff, gripping his hand, "I never knew that faulty switch would bring this huge mess upon us. You must be the one affected the most. I'm so sorry you had to go through this because of me. I should've let you known" you sob.

He gently wipes your tears, resting your head back on his shoulders "as long as you're safe, I'm at peace. It is my fault that I'm so...uh..quite unapproachable? But I went through hell when I saw you. I was sick worried. I'm sorry I should've protected you better. I should've run a new repair scheme as soon as you moved in. It was my insensitivity to let the most minor things slide" he slowly lies down, with you close to him. He smelled nothing like how the entire house did. He smelled sweet and strong. Everything indeed happens for a reason, as you sense how you're into the man, who rarely touches you, holding you dear.

Throughout the day, your husband Seungcheol stayed by your side, enveloping you in comforting embraces. He ordered breakfast to be delivered to his room, encouraging you to take small steps towards regaining your strength and energy to get on your feet. He offered the support you needed to gather the courage to move on your own and freshen up with a soothing shower.

While you were in the shower, he quietly left the room, allowing you some privacy to release the pent-up emotions that had been bottled up inside you. As the water washed away your tears, the conversations from two nights ago still loomed heavily, unresolved between you both. Yet, amidst the silence and uncertainty, there were his tender gazes - soft and caring. They were like ice on a sunburn, cooling your worries and offering a glimpse of hope. Though words may not have been spoken, his presence spoke volumes, showing that he was there for you in this trying time. You peer outside the window, to see the iron gates glistening with the fog, pitch black sky and the time's almost 11.

Once again, your husband returns into his room, after confirming you've changed, and he smiles at you, approaching with a plate of fruits and berries of all kinds. He was unsure of what your favorite fruit was. He felt unfortunate, of how unaware he is of your preferences. He hands you a bowl of strawberries, and elegantly peels an orange, handing the fruit to you.

"I'm sorry about the previous night" he begins. It catches you off-guard, yet you figure out you're the listener now. "I'm not the best with words, and I do realize I've hurt you-or even worse, left you disheartened. Yet again, I'm at a loss of what should I say, except that let's go on with the honeymoon plans. It may not be the best time right now, but whenever you're sure of doing this, tell me every detail about it; everything you desire for. We'll discuss it." he lifts his eyes towards you, with a subtle smile.

"I thought about everything, and upon contemplation, I realize I do want to give us a chance" you couldn't contain the bubbling happiness, and immediately hug him "thankyou so so so much Seungcheol. I'm glad you get my point" he was frozen at this sudden gesture, yet didn't fail to chuckle. Although he smiled discreetly knowing how wife-coded you are. "Let's begin as friends? Married friends? We'll know each other little by little" you suggest. "Sure, whatever you suggest" he smiles, shaking your hand.

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Amidst the haunting shadows of the accident's aftermath, and quite some insomnias later, time became your ally, gently coaxing you out of the horrors that had shaken your world. However you found an unexpected haven of love and affection with your husband. In your head, this friendship has escalated rapidly. A realization dawned upon you - the past may have shaped your paths, but the present had the power to rewrite destinies. Over time you had found solace in cohabitation with your husband, late-night conversations about life's intricacies, you delved into shared preferences, whispered dreams, cherished birthdays, and bittersweet memories of childhood. And everyday you discover new sides of him. Soon, you call him "husband" essentially finding pride and power in doing so. He was surprised at first, yet now he loves being called nicknames like "Cheol" or "Cheollie".

In Seungcheol, you found everything you admired in a man - daring, possessive, with a stunning face and a strong physique. He loved to be in shape, and encouraged you to stay fit, though romance wasn't his forte, he never faltered in taking care of necessities. While you weren't sure if you brightened his world, he became your epiphany. His struggles with eye contact and occasional mindless words unveiled the emotions he guarded, making you grateful for the accident that brought you together; without it, you might have given up on him. Now, you cherished the connection that had grown, exploring the depths of both your hearts.

Seungcheol realized soon that the collision of your worlds had a purpose, unveiling the potential for love and connection he hadn't dared to imagine. He slowly felt a major change in himself. Slowly, a transformation took place within him. Moments that were once filled with hesitation and distance, now became opportunities for seeking your attention, for his eyes to meet yours. He longed to be closer to you, finding comfort in watching you sleep peacefully at night and waking up to your smile each morning.

However, amidst this newfound affection, he couldn't decipher where his heart truly lay. Your mother's loving gestures and his sister-in-law's respectful fondness were easy to understand, but when it came to your feelings, he was left uncertain. Did you like him back? Would you ever be able to reciprocate his love? The questions lingered, leaving him vulnerable to the unknown, anxiously awaiting the day he could unravel the mysteries of your heart. It's an endless marathon in his mind.

It took him 4 days to gather his courage and ask you for coffee. You laugh and obviously agreed to accompany him to the city's famous coffee spot. Like the man he was, he memorizes your order and pulls into a drive thru.

Seungcheol drives to a spot he usually stops by, to ease his frustrations; Parks. Laughter of children, romantic couples sharing pda, and a bridge that separates cherry blossoms from the playground, you're immediately in love with this scenario. Both of you share some laughter, and enjoy your coffees and croissants, while the petals of the blossoms shed upon you. The look of love you two exchanged was long; to leave your coffees cold and croissants dry. Both of your worlds revolved around each other, only for Kkuma's barks to bring you back in reality, being greeted by Seungcheol's brother and his wife. Your delightful evening ends with a comfortable dinner and living your best chances of being Kkuma's mother, something your two month marriage with Seungcheol lacked.

Soon enough, you persuaded Seungcheol to shift houses permanently. Despite your old room being perfectly repaired, the trauma of sleeping alone had left a lasting impact. Bonus was Kkuma finally moving in with you and Seungcheol. Understanding your perspective, Seungcheol readily accepted to have you in his room in this house, and the new one seeking, welcoming the idea without hesitation.

Within a mere three days, you both found yourselves settling into your new furnished apartment, which, wasn't expansive, it rather held the essence of a cozy aesthetic. With only one guest room upstairs and a spacious bedroom, you had insisted on sharing the same space, declining any notions of personal separation. He made sure to double check every single thing, to disapprove any mishaps.

"Cheol, this is beautiful! I-I love it!! Thankyou so much, husband!" To him it's no new information, but his cheeks flushed shades of cherries. You were too busy exploring your new house, and he couldn't help but adore every inch of your ecstacy.

"Any time, wife" he replies after clearing his throat, and containing his ecstacy.

You poured your gratitudes to Seungcheol the entire day and actively joined hands with you, playfully engaging in household tasks, cherishing every moment as you transformed the apartment into your shared abode, a place that signified the start of your new world together. Nothing changed in terms of routine, however, you two communicate often,and now there were sparks of mischief from Seungcheol, indicating that silence was no more a welcoming guest. And now Kkuma being an addition, you enjoyed being indoors and outdoors with her. It wasn't often both of you enjoy going out often unless its something such as icecream dates or coffee, or some relaxing walks, because neither of you go anywhere out of your comfort zone; except for a business trip or grocery shopping, however the joy of turning down people who ask for your status, was thrilling. You felt a sense of superiority.

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The next evening he returns home a little earlier than expected, searching for an important flash drive in his drawer. It seemed you were in shower, considering how loud you were singing. He smiles, hearing your soft voice echoing in the room, and suddenly the door knob twisting open. Seungcheol quickly slides open the closet door and gets inside.

It was foolish of him to hide instead of leave, but he thought maybe his presence would freak you out. He slowly opens a little to take notes of the surrounding and was taken aback, seeing you in a towel, and your hair wrapped. He gulps, seeing your glistening body smell like lavender, spreading in the room.

Seeing you in this new light, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire mixed with love. He had never viewed you with such intense admiration before. Tempted to touch and hold you, he controlled his impulses, knowing it was too soon for his hands to explore your curves yet this is the most skin he's seen of you.

You lie down on the bed, laughing and smiling to everything that went in your beautiful mind. Soon you dial your best friend and start off a conversation. Seungcheol senses this was a grave mistake, because phonecalls are obviously long. He had no choice but to stay inside until you're distracted. He facepalms himself, and slowly leans towards the side. You put the phone on speaker while you do your post shower rituals, moisturizing yourself in view of the full length mirror.

"Is Seungcheol home right now? Or should I say your husband" your friend teases you

"Good lord, no he's not. Infact a business trip awaits his presence"

"Tch that's sad. No wonder why you're calling me and not him"

"My man's busy. Sometimes I just hope come early one day and catch me like this? My mind goes places whenever I get out of shower and think of him coming in without notice" you smile coyly "darling you're on my to-do list tonight" you chuckle. Seungcheol could only smirk, after hearing your fantasies.

"Honey you're too inexperienced for this" she retorts

"Inexperienced my foot, I miss my husband already.... and safe to say I actually love him" you sigh.

"Have you told him about your feelings? Have you told him you've never been laid and are deprived" Seungcheol closely listens to everything, occasionally holding his laughter.

"No" you pout again, falling on your back, unaware of seungcheol who was shamelessly hearing you, while admiring your raised chest, that was swollen out off the unknown feelings of you, from him.

"I want to. Everytime I look at him, I want to tell him 'oh Cheollie I love you' " you laugh with your friend, "I'm seriously in love with him and it scares me how quick and sudden it all was. And now its- he's giving me mixed signals. Sometimes he's distant, and sometimes he makes me the most lucky woman ever. I want to tell him I love him, I just don't know when or how" you continue

"Dont say anything. Just go on your honeymoon, and sit on his face, the 2nd hour. Afterall actions speak louder than words" both of you laugh heartily. Seungcheol breathes out a laugh yet onto it, knowing it's over if he's caught.

"Tell me about it" you sigh.

"Seriously! Talk with him and confess! Since when did you become such a big pussy"

"Honey I'm the one with the pussy"

"Goddamn, you- seriously- talk to him. What if he s involved in someone else the time you say the words"

You went silent, the thought just made you sit back up, nd think about it. Could he really have someone else?

"I...highly doubt that. My mother-in-law said he's never really had a serious relationship, since he was focused on training back then"

"Honey its not written on your face that you've never had a man, it aint written on his face that he may have a potential girlfriend before you. What you'll be doing then?" Your friend continues "I hope he's not doing this out of sympathy, considering that whole incident"

Again you felt numb all over, it would've killed you inside out if the signs of Seungcheol's empathy and love was all out of sympathy. However you shake your thoughts, and put a heavy heart on your words, "Then what I'm the one who married him, and I get to choose if I stay or take the other way"

Seungcheol gulped, knowing time is definitely ticking and if he still don't do anything, he'll surely regret.

"Atta girl!"

Suddenly Kkuma runs out from underneath your bed and into the bathroom, and you chase her. "Ahhhhh kkuma stop you frenzy lil- I'll call back later" you chase your daughter, and Seungcheol seeks this as a perfect opportunity to escape.

"Kkuma!!!! That's your dad's favorite shampooo aaa!" You exclaim. Seungcheol takes this opportunity to sprint out of the room, laughing a little at your banter. The smile plastered on his face was priceless. His chest heaved with happiness, ego swollen with pride, heart relieved and thrilled with all the revelations. If he knew anything as a businessman, it was to have a plan. He needs to be prepared for everything beforehand and time was a precious investment. And it was finally time he need to make his first move.

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"Are you interested in accompanying me to this business trip?" Seungcheol asks, out of the blue during breakfast.

"Well, I don't see exactly why wouldn't I" you raise your brows "thought I'd say no"

"Hey hey, it's not that! I just wondered if you'd be up for some adventure, that's all."

"Adventure, huh?" you reply, pretending to ponder dramatically. "Hmm, only if you promise to bring some fun into this 'business' trip."

He smirks, tapping his fingers on the table. "Deal! I'll make sure it's the most adventurous business trip you've ever been on" you're aware of your husband's antics, and it's evident he's brewing something.

You laugh, finding his playful demeanor contagious. "Alright then, you've got yourself a travel buddy. But you better keep your promise, Mr. Businessman."

Seungcheol winks, flashing you a charismatic smile. "Oh, don't you worry, Mrs. Businesswoman. It'll be an unforgettable journey" Kkuma barks in excitement

"Exactly Kkuma" he cheers.

You couldn't help but smile, at how domestic life has turned ever since the coast is clear between you two. The idea of being overseas with Seungcheol sparked a new imagination for you.

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Whoever said travelling is easy, it never is.

After hours of a tiring flight, you found yourself in Singapore, the astonishing city of tourism. The sights were indeed beautiful, with city skyscrapers and landscapes that mesmerized you. The fresh air was a welcome change, adding a touch of excitement to this trip. Your husband, with his penchant for luxury, had chosen a hotel room at a height, providing a stunning view of the city and the rivers below."It must be even more beautiful at night," you thought, taking in the scenery.

Seungcheol's voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, looking incredibly attractive in his white shirt.

"Like what you see?" he teased, clearly enjoying the attention he was receiving.

"Sure I do," you replied with a nervous smile, trying to contain your admiration for him.

"I'll shower first then! I'll be heading out soon, so please order lunch for me as well," he said, scrunching his nose playfully before disappearing into the bathroom.

Following his request, you ordered lunch and kept yourself busy taking pictures of the breathtaking views from your room. Lost in the beauty of the city, you were interrupted by the doorbell, and to your surprise, there stood Seungcheol, clad only in sweatpants, with the towel hanging around his shoulders. You tried your best to keep composure "Oop! Quite a timing, lunch is here" you tried to maintain eye contact but it was hard; both for your eyes to keep to his face, and for his nipples to remain soft in the chilly air of the A/C. It was thrilling and embarassing, considering you now know what he is inside that white shirt he always wears.

"Sure, Thanks. Heard my phone ring" he walks over to the side table for his phone "I'll be quick" he chuckles knowing the effect he had on you. You swore you felt tingles everywhere, and bury your face in your hands, hiding the flusters of your red face and feels. Unbeknownst to you, Seungcheol could see your flustered reactions through the reflection of the window; full enough to capture the city's highlights. He knew he has unlocked a new level.

"Sure this journey will be unforgettable"

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While Seungcheol's been busy attending meetings and chats with his clients, you took this opportunity to explore the city's famous landmarks, enjoying some street shows, and a visit to art galleries and ice cream parlors. The times he's available, he shines as usual; enjoying different flavors, mingling with the dancers, and spending like anything on ferris wheel rides, and to exquisite places you've either seen on searches, or never heard of it.

"So Mrs Businesswoman how are you enjoying your stay so far?" He inquires, leaning rowards the railings of the bridge.

"Amazing, you really know how to explore, Mr Dora" you smile. "How long is your business work though?"

"Why is it? Don't you like it here?" He frowns

"No no, it's that you must be tired commuting back and forth, just making sure you don't get sick"

"Don't worry, besides, weren't you the one to be enthusiastic about a honeymoon" he looks up at the starry sky. An instant realization came to you

"Ooh.... I-damn you sneaky lil I should've known why would you ask me to accompany you all of a sudden" you squint at him "I'm not complaining though. You have quite an elite taste" you smile

"Then lets go get dinner and we'll chill on some champagne later" the idea sounds wonderful already. Seungcheol holds your hand, and your heartbeat accelerated at this gesture

"You don't mind...this do you?" He asks, eyes glistening with innocence as if he doesn't tease you every morning.

"No, Honey" you smile. Despite Seungcheol's occasional flirty tactics, you realized that he had eyes only for you.

The next hour after a delicious dinner, you were in shower, and decided to make him suffer twice the time he does, so you come out in slippers, and a piece of towel barely covering your body, just enough to enhance your curves. Your husband who was pouring champagnes, turns around, to his absolute shock, he was foaming, eye-fucking you. You instantly knew you hit the bullseye.

"Forgot my toner here" you smile innocently, and unintentionally fulfilling your fantasies. Whatever was hard, was definitely not because of the temperature. Soon you return in just an oversized shirt and some shorts, that has been your usual night-fit. He hands you your glass, looking a bit horny. There was silence. Quite a sexually tempting one. Lights were dim, the view was spectacular.

It's when he realized he's had enough and pulls you on top of him, your lingerie-less body hitting his hard chest

"God..Seungcheol what is-"

"I'm I hav- Oh god I don't know how to say this" he contemplates, as you see his soft lips between his teeth

"What the hell you're the one to pull me on you" you roll your eyes

"Sorry I'm I-"

"Never mind" you hold his face and attach your lips with his. To be frank, you've had tolerated enough and it's time you do sit on his face.

The synchronization of your lips moving with his, was very perfect for a first time. You kept on kissing and kissing, exploring every inch of his mouth until he pushes you for a catch of breath. You flutter your eyes open and smile, slowly transcending to a laugh

"God you're so...menacing" he speaks "about time you finally do what you said to your frien-" he stops knowing he said a little too much. You look at him in shock "does that mean you-"

"Sorry" he nervously says. You squint your eyes at him again, very suspiciously "how much did you listen"

"Everything" he confessed "it was unintentional, you were busy on the call and I came for something then I forgot common sense. Sorry" he apologizes. You knew the cat had been out of the box, you were unable to notice it. You sigh, after a quick contemplation

"Well, it's no secret anymore. Here I'll say it fir-" he puts a finger on your lip, switching positions, where he is on top of you now. It earned a small squeak from you, yet you felt your core getting a bit wet by how attractive that was. His leg rested between yours.

"Let me" he stares in your soul. You gulped, kind of getting wet by how his built is hovering on you.

"Y/N, I'm foolishly, in fucking love with you" the sudden profanity made you grin a little harder, all while he strokes a loose strand off your face "honestly. I can't believe it took me this long to express my..sheer love for you, y/n. Back then, i would've died without you but now I...would die for you. I can't imagine a world without you, so if you please let me be yours forever?"

"I hated every inch of air I shared with you then, and how we were just bonded without sharing a hello" you smile, cupping his face "I never imagined I'd find every moment with you, so profound. Every minute with you was magical, and it only concludes how destined we are for each other"

"I love you Seungcheol"

"I love you too..."

With that, he took the "action speak louder than words" a little too serious. His lips wrestle for dominance with yours, and the thigh that was calm, started stirring up a storm between your legs, as he continuously grinds on you. You pull onto the hem of his shirt, and he immediately does, while his hands explore your body inside your shirt. He slowly makes his way from your lips to your neck. Everything felt so ecstatic; it was your new high. You clenched onto the soft pillows for dear life, when Seungcheol slides himself into your oversized shirt, his lips between the valley of your perky breasts, craving his attention. He admires every inch of your perfectly created body.

"Stop...teasing" you moan. He feigned ignorance, continuing to play with your sensations. He pulls you up by your back, and swiftly removes the shirt and throws it on the floor. "There's no stopping me tonight y/n," is the last thing he says before pinching your nipples, and making the best use of his mouth on them. He enjoys hearing the profanities escape your lips, and how your voice changes upon pleasure.

You push him by his shoulders and get down on him, sliding the waistband of his shorts down to his knees, his dick springing high on your face. You gaze at his length before mindlessly taking every inch in your hands. "You..you..do..nt hhhave to ddoo t-ohhh" he groans. "You don't tell me what to do...."

"Such a brat" he smirks, letting you rule his excitement. He felt his high, once you slowly took him in your mouth, taking in as much as you could without gagging (yet) it's a matter of time he shifts from a thread of "oh ffuckk" "you're doing it so good" to "I'm gonna cum" and it's when you stop. You hastily take your shorts off and slowly grind on him. Seungcheol was panting manic. He was a mess. The entire room reeked of lust and his musky scent overshadowing, with his sweat. It proved how much of an authority you held on him

"Slide all the way up to my face beautiful I don't bite"

That's all you needed for your dripping core to slide on his nose, to his mouth. His tongue did wonders. You were sure you wouldn't last long considering this is your first oral ever, and sure you didn't, his tongue toyed with your nerves, and used every "shits" "fucks" "oh cheol" as his drive to go deeper in your cunt. "I'll cum I'm cumming I-" you release on his lips, and like a man, he devours it all.

"Delicious"

"You...you sound like cand..candy crush for god's sake" you breathily chuckle, and he follows, slowly getting up, to position himself on you.

"Then allow me to...'smash' " he presses a tender kiss on your forehead, before entering your core. You squeezed his hand, asking him to be gentle and burying your face in his neck, fingers in his back. It felt so...weird the first few minutes, but as he slowly moves, the funky feeling, the pain, it all vanishes. It's all when you realize you're actually getting laid. The sounds you've never considered you'd make, were too loud, way too unholy. Seungcheol was holding your leg, and was going slow till you adjust to him. His low groans and breathy moans turned you on even further, where you move your head to face him and slap his arm

"Giv...give me e...every..thing, husband. Take me all the way up" you breathe out. It's when he increases his pace, once he received your green signal. The slow slaps, were now louder and faster. Your bed was also giving up on concealing it's squeaks. He holds you in his arms, and continues thrusting in you.

Nothing else in the world mattered but the pressure you felt in between your legs and your delicious heat wrapping around him, engulfing him in until he bottomed out. His head falling into the crock of your neck, whispering sweet nothings against it while he started to fuck you slowly.

“Y-You feel so good, so w-warm.” Seungcheol kissed you, feverishly, swallowing your moans. His soft lips whimpering against yours. “I want to be inside you forever.” His hips moving against yours slowly, making sure you could feel all of him inside you. His hands never leave from your back and pushed you against him, chests heaving against one another’s. You arched your back, gripping the blankets underneath you. "Oh Seungcheo...god....cheol..." you breathe. He continued tinting your neck with his masterwork, and swiftly positions you on all fours. The joy you felt by the way he dominated you, and messed with your fucked out state, was bringing you heaven. You go low, arms stretching towards the headboard, while he grabs them, locking them behind your back, and even going hard.

There was no stopping him, all while the whole city from your foggy windows witness you making love witb your husband.

"Look at yourself, love" he turns your head to the mirror on the right "look at us..mmm..." he moans in your ear his hand snaking in between your bodies searching for the little bud of pleasure. You scream in pure ecstscy.

He turns you around, so swiftly, with his thumb hovering over it, the suspense had you withering, begging for him to touch you the only way he knew how. You whimpered feeling the ghost of his touch, your fingers tweaking at your nipple, sending a rush of pleasure through your body. "C..ch..chheoll..., mmm, I-I need to cum.” You pressed your chest into his back, turning your head all the way up, watching as his face contorted into pure bliss, his thrusts getting sloppier, his connected thumb with your clit and rubbing slow figure eight, constrasting the speed of his thrusts. You gasped raising your hips rocking against his hips and hand, feeling the sweet coil start to build up "im..fucking serious oh....my..."

"Release all on me, love" he demands amidst moans "Cum with me. Savour every drop of it" and it's all you needed to finally finish on him. He groaned finding your free hand and interlocking your fingers with his. You clenched around him. He was pumping as well, and you felt all warmth being filled inside you. Every thing about this was so surreal, so new, so perfect. You breathe as if you had run a marathon; a marathon of lust. Seungcheol hugs you, and stays inside you, caressing your head, showering you with compliments that you were brave and did well for your first time. The sense of encouragement brought tears to your eyes as you bury your face in his chest. He caressed your back with tender touches, and slowly lays you on your back, plopping down next to you.

"You're officially all mine" he kisses your shoulder. You hold his hand tightly, "you're mine as well, babe"

For the first time, you felt real comfort, real love, and an unimaginable intimate experience with your husband. And a shower too.

Seungcheol's heart hadn’t stopped palpitating since. His stomach erupted into butterflies whenever he had held you close throughout the immoral escapades the two of you had engaged in all night. He never wanted to let you go and now as he looked down into your glittering eyes with the heat of the golden sun rays hitting your sensitive bodies.

"Wake up husband"

"I think I want to sleep all day tonight" he shuffles closer to you.

"Oh who knew it would hard to wake my husband up from his slumber"

"Blaming on your irresistable charm" he squeezes your butt under covers.

"Owh! I'll need my own room again if you do th.." his hands cup your clothed core

"Hmmm...you were saying?"

"You.." you fail to form sentences once he starts rubbing your core, slow dense circles.

"Hands to yoursel..f or I'll bite" you whisper

"Oh, my damsel in distress" his voice is contagiously attractive;waste no time as he goes down on you undercovers.

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"We're really leaving Singapore as lovers" he chimes, an ear-to-ear grin fixed on, enhancing his dimples.

"Yeah if it weren't you to have the same traits as you family, you nosy lil witch" you exhale, standing in front of the fountains, almost nearing the airport

"I'm always nosy about everything" he smirks

"Honesty is not always the best policy Mr Choi"

He pulls you dangerously close "You have no idea, Mrs Choi"

"You need a haircut"

"All I'll ever need is...you" he holds onto you like a sloth on a branch, as you two harmonize in a melodious laugh.

It is you, he wants to tell everything to. He'll express his love for you, while he holds your hands in his.

And if there's eternal love, Seungcheol is that person for you.

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Thenkyoui for reading!! Stay bias wrecked by him <3

2K notes · View notes

strawbeerossi · 10 months

Text

Jealousy

18+ Content. Minors DNI

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever the team tracks down the unsub they are looking for, it’s up to reader to lure him out of the bar with nothing but her charm and charisma. Spencer however, just can’t stand watching it. He makes sure to make his feelings known to the reader later on.

Content Warnings: Post-Prison!Spencer, Jealous!Spencer, BAU!reader, case details, coarse language, Dom!Spencer, kinda mean!Spencer, sub!reader, possessiveness, degradation, praising, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (F receiving), fingering, hair pulling, spitting, aftercare, fluff at the end

Word count: 3k

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Well, here it is! Can I technically call this ‘Jealousy (Taylor’s Version)(From the Vault)’ ?

Spencer approached Emily, his brow furrowed with concern, as he held a file tightly in his hands. "Emily, we need to talk about Y/N's undercover assignment. I've been analyzing the data, and there are some significant risks involved that we need to address before we even think of sending her out there.” he began, his voice laced with urgency.

Emily, her expression serious yet attentive, met Spencer’s gaze. "I understand your concerns, Reid, but we've already vetted this operation thoroughly. Y/N is well-prepared and capable of handling herself," she responded, her voice steady and reassuring.

It wasn’t matters of him thinking that Y/N wasn’t prepared, it was him being worried because this unsub was taking women who fit her image description and killing them after doing horrible things to them.

The male nodded, his worry still evident. "I know Y/N is skilled, but the circumstances surrounding this case are unusually complex. I just want to make sure we have contingency plans in place and that we're ready to support her in any way necessary," he explained, his analytical mind racing with potential scenarios. She could have a knife pulled on her and be forced out, this unsub could drug her by sticking her with something, he could kill her right there if he figured out she was a federal agent..

After being released from prison, Spencer became a different man. He used to be more composed, now however, he was more temperamental. It didn’t help that Y/N was his girlfriend, the need to protect her being obvious. Besides, who wants to see their partner talking with a man who was brutally stabbing women and doing horrible things to their corpses? Especially when each of those women could’ve been her twin. That put her in a high risk situation that wasn’t a guaranteed arrest.

“Reid,” The Unit Chief let one hand come up to rub her face, the woman being tired of the argument. She could understand the worry and frustration, however this was Y/N’s job that she’d been doing for a good six years now. She knew the stakes as well as what she could or couldn’t handle.

“I promise that we will have this covered. We have surveillance all over the bar. Alvez, Simmons, and you are going to be inside, close enough to stop anything if things go too far.” She stressed the details, the woman just being exhausted explaining her decision continuously. “You aren’t changing my mind. I need you to understand that this decision was made with Y/N. You need to let her do her job.”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N walked into the dimly lit bar, her gaze looking around for Marcus Black, the man’s face still fresh in her mind from the picture that Penelope had sent her while she was on the way over to the location, the woman trying to mentally prepare herself for the mental gymnastics she’d have to go through for this. It was a common misconception that undercover missions were much easier than having to risk it by assuming who the unsub is and building off the profile.

Y/N would argue this is much harder. You have to stand in front of a person who did unspeakable things to others. You have to get close and personal, be able to hide that overwhelming feeling of being disgusted, nervous, and even terrified. This was a man who was definitely bigger than she was in every aspect, being able to take her down if he truly wanted to.

That didn’t stop her from flashing a bright smile at the bartender as she’d approached the bar, sitting in a bar stool while ordering a vodka tonic. Across the room, she could get a clear view of Matt Simmons, the man keeping his gaze fixated on her as he gave a nod once the two made direct eye contact.

She had a wire, the team could hear everything from the earpieces they all had in order to communicate with one another as well as communicate with her, even if she couldn’t very well respond in an obvious way.

Although as Y/N was lost in her thoughts, she could feel a presence beside her, one that oozed darkness. The vibe had dropped tremendously low, however Y/N needed to keep up a façade or all of this will go to shit, something the team definitely doesn’t need right now.

Especially when they could just taste the capture that was going to come. “Hi.” The woman spoke, a charming smile gracing her features while her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her fingers playing with the straw in her drink.

Which as she had struck up a conversation, Spencer was quietly watching from the other end of the bar, nursing a full glass of some mixed drink in front of him just to avoid suspicion. He knew that she had to fake interest but that didn’t stop a heat rising in his chest, one associated with jealousy.

Seeing his girlfriend giving another man bedroom eyes, laughing at every word he said, even putting her hand on his upper arm was enough to make him seethe in his spot, hazel eyes focused on his girlfriend.

She was giggling, he could just hear it from his spot, probably telling him that she just couldn’t bare the thought of going home alone. He was just further pissing himself off thinking of the potential things she could be saying, not even tuning in to the actual dialogue because he knew it would’ve pissed him off much more than his own thoughts.

It was enough to make him clench his hand around the glass in his right hand. It was like his brain was trying to trick him into genuinely believing that Y/N was enjoying herself. He knew better, however the anger over the ‘what if’ had him shaking.

It reminded him of when he was in prison.

Y/N would come to visit him and it was one of the only things that got him through the hell, however the other inmates always had their comments. Saying explicit things about his angel, what they’d do to her given the chance to ever see her outside of those four cement walls. He wanted to keep his head down at the time but god damn, if this version of him was in prison, he would’ve been throwing fists and starting fights over his girlfriend, adding onto his sentence.

This was absolute fucking torture, Spencer’s leg bouncing in annoyance as he was using his opposite hand to put the earpiece in his ear, just in time to hear something that would have him absolutely livid. “I don’t think you could handle me, sweetheart. However if you’re up for a challenge, I’m always happy to take a precious little dove like yourself home.. However.. I don’t know if you could take what I’m going to give you,”

The male’s voice was the first thing Spencer was greeted with. “Is that so? You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. But I promise, once you've tasted the forbidden fruit, there's no turning back.” Y/N countered, her voice low and in a seductive tone while her fingers were tracing over the rim of her glass.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying, honey.” The man continued while looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “Most women can’t handle what I offer. We make a wager..” There it is! Now tell her, you fucking fuck.

“If they can get through my little game, they get to go home. If not?” He began, reaching in his jacket pocket. Which was enough to make Spencer jump up from his spot before he was storming over, catching a glimpse of a knife being pulled from an inner jacket pocket.

It gave him probable cause to shove the man over the counter, making Y/N’s eyes widen at the surprise while she was jumping back.

“Marcus Black, you are under arrest for the murders of Christine Brailey, Jessica Fredricks, and Emily Knight as well as the attempted murder of Amanda Grey.” Spencer spoke through gritted teeth, the handcuffs locking tightly on his wrists before he was shoving him out of the bar.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Y/N’s back was hitting the front door of the apartment as soon as she and Spencer made it inside, the woman gasping while she was trapped between her boyfriend’s body and the wooden door.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were enjoying yourself back there. I mean you were really trying to sell it, weren’t you?” Spencer asked, eyebrows raising as his hand was coming under his girlfriends chin to make her look at him. He looked furious, it was enough to make Y/N nearly fall on her knees right then and there.

The thing about Spencer was that he was much different now, prison changing him in many ways. He was still a good man, there were no doubts about that, but now he had more anger.

Which Y/N was the outlet he needed when he was having a hard time, fucking her deep into their mattress where she was soaking their bedsheets with her cum, getting to the point where she was crying from overstimulation and begging for more.

“Get your little ass in the bedroom.” Spencer spat, dropping his hand before watching his girlfriend scurry off, making a b-line to their bedroom. It took Spencer an agonising amount of time to lock up and make sure everything was turned off for the night before he was making an appearance.

“You know, I could tell you were truly enjoying yourself. How does it feel to be a fucking whore?” He spat, making Y/N clench her thighs together as she could just feel her arousal soaking her panties from the harsh words.

“Look at you. Fucking pathetic. You’re really getting wet right now while I’m scolding you for being a whore?” He asked, taking a few steps over before letting his hand tangle in his girlfriend’s hair, tugging her head up to force her to look up at him from the spot where she was sitting on their king sized bed.

“So cock hungry.” He spoke while letting go of her hair while working to loosen his tie, urging his girlfriend to take his belt off for him. However as she was moving to start on his pants, his hand was wrapping around hers. “No.” He began, using the tie he’d loosened and taken off to restrain her hands behind her back.

“You don’t get the pleasure of touching me tonight.” He scolded his girlfriend before pushing her back onto the mattress, his hand grabbing her right ankle before he was pulling her to the end of the bed.

The black dress she wore had a perfect eyeful for him, her tits threatening to spill over the top as he was running his large hands over her body, fingertips tracing over the straps before he was pulling them down, letting her breasts out of their confinement while he groaned lowly. He had seen her body so much and he could navigate it with ease, but seeing her was always like the first time. Just.. He knows what he’s doing now and he’s not as nervous. “Fucking gorgeous.” His voice was low while he was using no effort at all to tug the dress down her legs, throwing it somewhere on their bedroom floor.

“The point of panties is to have something to cover you up.” He spoke lowly, chuckling as her needy, swollen cunt was practically swallowing the fabric of the panties that were on her hips. With a soft hum, his fingertips were running across her covered slit, collecting her arousal on his fingers while sighing, his head shaking.

“Look my angel. Who’s got you this wet?” He asked, his hands pushing her thighs apart more, falling to his knees at the edge of the mattress. “Y-you.” Y/N was whispering, shaking with anticipation as she was really desperate for something, anything. She knew the game Spencer was playing though.

“Damn right,” He gave an arrogant smirk while blowing cool air on her soaked pussy, a chuckle leaving his lips at the pathetic mewl that fell from her lips. “That’s right. Me. Because you’re mine, Y/N. Gonna show you what happens when you get too into flirting when you only had to do the bare minimum.” He murmured, his fingers hooking in the waistband of the black panties, tugging them down her legs while discarding of them somewhere on the floor.

Spencer was delving right in, eating her as if she was his last meal and he was a starved man, the way Y/N’s whines and cries making his cock stand at attention. However it wasn’t long until he was pulling away, tongue paying attention to her throbbing clit while two of his long fingers were being pushed into her without warning.

Her pussy was clenching around the digits, her back arching off of their sheets as she was blabbing her own praises, even if she wasn’t making too much sense because she was a sobbing mess as she could feel those long fingers curling.

Her hands were still bound, grabbing onto her own wrist, although she’d rather have her fingers in Spencer’s hair and being able to shove his face against her more. However, it was all crashing down when Spencer was pulling away, the male chuckling as his girlfriend was looking up at him with tears in her eyes. She was desperate for relief.

“Shh.. I know.” The male chuckled, now getting off his shirt, shedding his slacks as well before his boxers were the last to go. He was getting situated, his hands wrapping her shaking legs around his waist while he was spitting onto her already soaked pussy, the tip of his cock teasing her desperate cunt by spreading the sit around as if she needed to be lubed up.

“Alright, angel. Are you ready for my cock or do you need my fingers a little longer?” He asked, an eyebrow raising. Even in his state, he’d always ask before going too crazy. Last thing he needed was to hurt her.

“Cock!” Y/N blabbed immediately, eyes glossed over while her hips were rolling in an attempt to get some sort of friction, clenching around nothing as she was left to lay there helpless.

“Answer any faster, why don’t you? Someone is eager..” Spencer chuckled, however he was getting quite desperate himself. So, he wasn’t wasting time before his cock was pushing into her cunt, his head falling on her shoulder while he let out a low groan.

Y/N was letting out a drawn out moan, a few whimpers following after. There was always a delicious stretch, the pleasurable pain having her squirming and trying to push herself against his cock for more, the only thing stopping her was a strong hand on her hip.

“Patience. I’ll pull out right now and cum on your stomach and leave you here to squirm. You know better than this.” He warned, his voice low as he kissed the spot under her ear.

Feeling his rock hard cock stretching and stuffing her felt beyond amazing and she loved it. Once he was bottoming out, Spencer wasted no time in beginning to ram his cock into his girlfriend.

The feeling of her velvety, plushy walls was always enough to drive him insane. It was like she was made for him, not even just her body but her as a person. She complimented him so well and he did the same with her. It was safe to say that she was his person. Emphasis on his.

The sinful sounds of skin slapping against each other and the moans, whimpers and cries from Y/N were filling the once quiet bedroom. Their neighbors hated them enough, Spencer could already hear the complaints from the woman next door. She’d already made several noise complaints in the past, which Y/N would joke with Spencer that it was because she hadn’t been touched in a good thirty years. What a life that would be.

Spencer kept up his steady, relentless thrusts. His goal was always to have Y/N cum first, mainly because the mere sight of her creaming around his cock was enough to make him explode. “Sp-Sp.. I-I… C-Cu-“ That was all he got out of her before he knew exactly what she was trying to convey judging by the way her cunt squeeze tightly around him, a cry leaving her lips as she was doing hitting her orgasm, her back arching off the mattress as her nails were digging into her wrists.

“Fuck!” She cried, Spencer giving a few more sloppy thrusts before long ropes of his sticky cum were beautifully decorating her inner walls, his thrusts fucking it deeper into her while he was slowly coming down from his own high.

Y/N was in full orgasmic bliss, her face flushed, her eyes glossed over, her once neatly done makeup running down her face as well as her face being all over the place. She was fully fucked out, making Spencer lean down and press a few loving kisses against her lips before he was pulling out and pushing himself to stand.

He disappeared off to the bathroom for a few moments, getting a warm bath ready for his girlfriend before heading back to the bedroom, a soft hum leaving his lips as he was carefully picking up his tired, fucked out partner.

“There we go. Let’s get you cleaned up.” He breathed, the woman letting her arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. She was still in the stage where she was crashing down from her high, so he was placing her gently in the warm tub before grabbing a washcloth.

As he was washing his girlfriend, he was looking up at her face once he could see the content smile on her face. “Hi,” He whispered, the two sharing a little giggle amongst each other. “Hi.” Y/N responded, leaning over to press a kiss against her boyfriend’s cheek.

“I hope you know, I might be flirting with more people more often if this is the outcome.” She joked, making Spencer laugh.

“Like hell you are.”

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saigethearies · 6 months

Text

saige’s terrortober presents…

guardian

when one of the actors at a haunted house attraction gets a little too handsy, megumi doesn’t hesitate to come to your aid.

megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

contents/warnings: non consensual groping (not from gumi), megumi and reader are in their early 20s, non-sorcerer!reader, violence, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise, sir kink, protective!megumi, a little hint of feral!megumi

wc: 2.1k

18+ MINORS DNI

“come on, gumi, the next walk-through starts in five minutes!”

your boyfriend sighed as he let you pull him along towards the “haunted house” you had wanted to go to for the past three weeks. he didn’t really see the fun behind seeing a bunch of people pretend to be ghosts and demons when he fought (real) ones for a living, but he digressed. you didn’t share the same extraordinary profession that he did, so these types of attractions were still a spectacle of scary excitement and adrenaline for you. megumi couldn’t deprive you of the festive halloween experiences you sought out, nor would he ever pass up a chance to spend time with you.

thus, that is how he found himself being ushered into a hallway filled with plastic cobwebs, fake blood, and red lights everywhere.

your shoulders were tense, preparing for the inevitable jumpscare of an actor dressed to resemble a ghoul, zombie, or some other sort of terror. intertwining your fingers with the ravenette at your side, the two of you continued down the path.

he knew that the whole purpose of coming here was for you to get a little scare, but megumi still couldn’t resist the urge to squeeze your hand and keep you close. this was all make-believe, he knows better than anyone, but the nerves he could sense radiating off of you were still very much real.

you yelped when an actor jumped out at you from around the corner, special effects makeup covering his face that made it look as if he was covered in gnashes. jolting back, you felt megumi’s arm wrap around your waist, keeping you from taking a tumble towards the floor. the actor receded back into the darkness he had been hiding in, leaving you to try and calm your racing heart. megumi remained as blank faced as ever, not even phased in the slightest.

“oh my goodness,” you breathed, regaining your balance.

after a few more frights, the rest of the haunted house became easier to navigate because you knew what to expect. the jumpscares weren’t as alarming anymore, and you even found yourself starting to nervously laugh out of anticipation when you knew one was coming up. your giggles even had a smile coming onto your boyfriend’s face, his chest feeling warm at the sight of you having a good time.

running out of crimson colored hallways to walk down, the two of you were finally nearing the exit of the attraction. the double doors leading outside were left open, and you could see signage pointing towards a pumpkin patch and a corn maze. you gasped in delight.

“look, gumi, we can go pick our pumpkins out!”

you took off, dashing towards the exit in excitement. megumi sighed, figuring he’d catch up to you once the two of you were out of the haunted house.

unbeknownst to you both, there was one more actor hiding in the dark, a final fright for those who bravely made it to the end.

and unfortunately for you, this guy wasn’t only a creep because of his costume.

his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, the actor smirked when he saw you trotting towards his hiding spot. megumi wasn’t in his line of sight yet, so he had no idea he was trailing behind.

‘a pretty little thing all alone in this place?’ the sleaze thought to himself. ‘must be my lucky day.’

you shrieked when the man jumped out at you, mentally cursing yourself for not staying on your guard until the very end. oh well, at least it's all just pretend-

you felt your body freeze when a pair of gloved hands attached themselves to your chest.

“damn, aren’t you fine,” disgustingly warm breath fanned against your ear, and you felt a true scream start to tear its way up your throat only to die on your tongue when the body pressed against your back was ripped away from you.

you watched in shock as megumi shoved your assailant up against the wall, sending his fist into his face once, then twice, then three times. he kept going.

“gumi!” you yelled, trying to pull your boyfriend out of his rage-filled trance. the guy had his hands up in surrender, pleads coming from behind his mask. the shikigami summoner, however, wasn’t letting up.

you finally ran up to him, grabbing onto his elbow before he can deliver another punch. “MEGUMI! i think he got the lesson.”

dark blue eyes blinked before turning to look down at you, a frown on your face. he took note of the tremors in your grip on his arm. megumi mentally kicked himself for not checking on you first. he always sought to improve his character, but whenever he saw your safety threatened he found himself reverting back to the violence that plagued his younger years.

“love,” he began slowly, concern etched into every corner of his face.

you sniffled. “can we just get out of here?”

the sorcerer let the creep fall to the ground, crumbling up like the trash he was. placing a gentle hand on the small of your back, your boyfriend led you away from the haunted house and towards the car.

he thought about telling the site’s management, but you were clearly still shaken, so he decided for your sake he’d get you into the comfort of his audi as soon as possible. he would still report the incident later, however. that man needed to face formal consequence. beating him wasn’t enough to satisfy megumi, who swore to himself every night you fell asleep in his arms and every morning you woke up still wrapped in them that he would keep you safe from anything.

he couldn’t help but feel like he failed at that tonight.

opening the passenger door for you, megumi helped you into your seat before closing you in and getting into the car himself. he immediately turned to you.

“are you alright?”

such a stupid question to ask. of course you weren’t, the misty hue of your eyes confirmed so. he couldn't think of the right words to say in this situation, but when those always failed him, megumi resorted to the method he could always depend on to better express himself: actions.

those always spoke louder, anyways.

he reached a hand out, placing it on your thigh before giving a comforting squeeze. he knew there was a chance you may not want to be touched right now, but if you had a problem with his affections he knew you’d make it known.

a sense of accomplishment washed over him when you placed your hand on top of his. “thank you, gumi.”

“you don’t need to thank me. it’s my responsibility to protect you.”

he almost made a comment about how he should have done a better job, but he held his tongue. right now it was about you. throwing himself a pity party would do nothing to lift your spirits.

“well, i still want to say thank you,” you said, a small smile coming onto your face as you shifted towards him. “my knight in shining armor deserves some gratitude.”

megumi hummed in acceptance, the two of you sitting in silence for a minute before he spoke again.

“i hope i broke his fucking nose.”

that earned a laugh from you, catching him by surprise. “all this time i thought gojo was making up all those stories about you in middle school, but i guess i was wrong.”

“whatever he told you, please forget.”

“you know, i dont think i want to,” you said with a smirk.

now that the distress of the situation had ebbed away some, your mind was able to ponder more on your boyfriend going full fight club on the guy. seeing him get aggressive like that was honestly…very sexy. you couldn’t really appreciate in the moment, but now reminiscing on the wild semblance in his eyes and the sheer force behind his hits had your thighs starting to press together.

megumi noticed the gesture when he felt his fingers become squished between your thighs. he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“do you want something from me?” he asked, the heat of your skin paired with the adrenaline from earlier sending his brain into overdrive.

you pouted your lip out at him. “want you to touch me, ‘gumi.”

“are you sure?”

“yes, sir. need you to make me feel better, please.”

the title made his cock twitch in his pants. the hand that had been resting on your thigh slowly began to glide up your skin, dipping under the hem of your skirt and gingerly tracing the edge of the lace covering your heat.

he saw you start to squirm in your seat, chest puffing out at the effect he had on your body. finally slipping a finger into your panties, his index drew slow circles around your clit.

your head tipped back against the seat, a breathy whine leaving you. the appendage doting on your bud then drifted down into your cunt, his middle finger joining as well. he pumped them at a steady fast, beginning to pick up speed once they started to reach deeper.

“fuck, that feels so good, sir!”

“yeah? ‘m glad, love.”

he could feel your pussy start to soak his fingers, the mess between your legs growing wetter by the second. it would probably get on the seat, but he could worry about that later. right now his sweet girl needed him.

you felt the coil in your gut begin to tighten, megumi’s fingers continuing to fuck you open. he knew how to use them so well, years of summoning his shikigami paying off with the most dexterous fingers you’ve ever had the pleasure of welcoming into your cunt.

thus, imagine your disappointment when you felt his hand detach from your heat.

before you could protest, you felt his arousal-coated fingers prod at your lower lip.

“clean them,” he gently commanded.

you did as you were told, taking the appendages into your mouth as your tongue swept up your own glaze. you released them with a pop.

“such a good girl.”

you let out a small squeak of surprise as you felt megumi easily lift you from your seat and bring you into his lap, chests pressed together.

“good girls deserve to cum on a cock, yeah?”

you nodded quickly, excitement rattling you at the thought of getting filled up.

megumi slid his pants down below his hips, freeing his aching dick from his boxers before pushing your thong to the side.

“sit on it, love.”

lowering yourself onto his cock, you moaned as you felt the familiar stretch. he always stuffed you so perfectly, the heat in your stomach already starting to pool at the sensation.

moving your head to rest in the crook of his neck, megumi placed both of his hands on your hips. he began to move you up and down on his lap as if you were weightless, jackhammering up into your pussy whenever he brought you back down. you practically screamed when you felt how deep he was going.

your boyfriend was panting. god, you always felt so perfect around him. he was never sure what he thought about the idea of fate or soulmates, but everytime you welcomed him into your cunt, he could have sworn you were made for each other.

his lovesick thoughts led his thrusts to become harder, megumi’s sole focus being to ensure you could feel how much you meant to him through every grip of his fingers, every breath from his lips, every plunge of your pelvises.

“i love you,” he whispered into your ear, eyes practically blown feral. “damn, i love you so much. forever and always. gonna keep you safe, gonna keep you happy- fuck.”

you mewled at all the pussydrunk confessions tumbling out of him. “love you, too, gumi! love you, love you- ah!”

his tip hitting that golden spot now, your legs starting to shake around his.

“if i ever see someone touch you again, i’m putting them six feet fucking under.”

“nng, sir!”

“you’re mine.”

the dam finally broke, your cunt clamping down on his dick as your orgasm tore through you as if it were a monsoon. the sensation of you creaming around him sent your boyfriend over the edge next, megumi filling you up as you continued to be flooded with pleasure.

the two of you sat there in content quiet, megumi running his hand up your back to try and soothe you as you both recovered. you lifted your head up, gazing at him with droopy eyes.

“did you mean it?”

his brow furrowed. “mean what?”

“putting someone six feet under. would you actually do it?”

he wrapped you in an embrace, bringing your tired body to rest against his.

“without hesitation.”

———

saige’s terrortober masterlist

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi smut #megumi fushiguro smut #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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