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norrizzandpia · 1 month

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i think this would suit lando but you being down and lando comes over later at night and takes you the park like two little kids, i can just imagine lando being a big kid at the park lmao

I’m going to need someone to love me like the fictional lando i write abt 24/7

We Can Be Kids For Right Now (LN4)

Summary: When her week has tried to suffocate her, Lando turns up at her door and forces her to remember just how worthy she truly is.

Warnings: mentions of heavy anxiety attacks, anxiety in general, language

Note: a draft bc im wrecked rn from this trip im on im so tried lol… I hate that I have to start saying this but I do not condone the reposting of my work without proper crediting or permission. If you wish to post my works elsewhere, it needs to be ran by me first by messages over Tumblr. If found that you have taken my works without my knowledge, I will report you and get my posts taken down from your blog.

Y/n never truly realized she did it until Lando, but when the man started to get close to her, he brought it to her attention that she so easily isolated herself when she started struggling. Even the smallest inconvenience and she shut down, something that irritated the hell out of Lando. Nevertheless, he loved her and the way she dealt with her emotions was something he knew she just needed to work on.

However, the problem they couldn’t get past was her ability to tell him when she was struggling. There were only so many times when he could see it written all over her face.

His comments urging her to open up to him when she was having a hard time dealing with it on her own bounced around in her head as she clutched her phone in her hands, his contact picture brightening her screen. His smile beamed back at her, almost coaxing her into tapping the call button, but her thumb hesitated. It wasn’t that she was afraid of telling him, it was that she was uncomfortable with her own emotions. Uncomfortable of leaning into them. Growing up, she was never given that ability, her parents not having the full capacity to address them head on. She never thought it truly affected her until Lando. She started realizing that he never gave her a problem to be scared, but she still was.

Her thumb had a mind of its own, though. Thankfully. And the ringing tone met her ears before she could even know what was happening. His picking up happened before she could even begin to think about hanging up the phone.

“Baby!” His cheery voice rang through the quiet room and warmed her tender heart. “What’s up? Why are you up so late? Do you want a sweet treat again?” He giggled, his TV pausing in the background.

She was silent. Her mind raced as she tried to make the split second decision of telling him or not. Though, in her silence, he began formulating an answer.

“Y/n…” He whispered, blankets rustling as she imagined him sitting up on his couch.

“Lan,” She said brokenly, albeit with an effort of trying to sound strong.

Keys rustling and his rushed, “I’m on my way, baby,” were her response.

—

Lando knew where the spare key was. It was one of the first things he asked the location of after they first said I love you. Y/n would always laugh at that memory. What she was expecting after the three words were shared was a small kiss or a hug maybe, but no, he had asked her where her spare key was. When she showed him and he very clearly took a mental note of it, she asked him what was so important about it.

“I’m your boyfriend and we’re in love. I should know where the spare key is, baby.” He had said to her so nonchalantly, as if it was societally normal to have that thought process. She just shook her head at him and took the kiss she wanted for herself. He wasn’t going to do it anyway, too entranced in the image of her spare key under her doormat. He was shenanigans bundled into one person. She loved it.

His rapping on the door pulled her from her memories. She drudged over, taking a deep breath before opening the door. He stood there in his pajamas, puffer coat thrown over haphazardly, and stared at her sympathetically. He shuffled in, arm rounding around her shoulders as he kissed her head, “Hard day?”

She sighed, “Hard week.”

He led her to the couch. The layout of her apartment was memorized in his head. “What happened?”

“I just-” She picked at her fingernails and the anxiety she usually felt when Lando asked about her worries began bubbling up. Maybe it was growth, but she thought he’s already here, isn’t he? Might as well lean on him.

So, she did. Literally and figuratively.

Lando squeezed her body as her side laid on his and she started reliving the low moments of the past few days. “Everything has gone wrong this week. I just can’t seem to win and I can’t make anyone happy.”

Tears filled her eyes and a frown appeared on her face. She cried into his shoulder when he pushed her body further into it.

Lando sat with her for a moment, rubbing her back. “That’s not true, Y/n. You make a lot of people happy. You make me really happy.”

For some reason, his comment shot fear through her body and she pulled from him. Her eyes looked anywhere other than his and the irrational idea of an expectation Lando had set for her that she did not believe in herself to meet took control of whatever plan she had to open up to him.

Lando saw it in her eyes, how distant they got. He knew this was bound to happen. It had been too easy. She had opened up to him without that much restraint and he expected a moment to come where her walls rebuilt themselves.

He just wanted her to let him in.

His hands took her face, “You deserve me. You will not let me down. You could never let me down.” He said, knowing exactly what was running through her mind.

“Y/n, look at me.” He tilted his head to meet her eyes and forced her to keep his stare, “I love you. That will never change.”

She cried harder, “I can’t even open up to you, Lan. I’m not even a good employee at a job I’m overqualified for. Yesterday, I handed in that presentation to my boss that I had been working on for weeks and when I presented it to the board of all fucking people, there was a grammatical error on one of the slides. I had confused ‘your’ and ‘you are’, Lan. It was embarrassing. They laughed and joked about it after. I can’t even fucking do my job. And I upset my mum on Wednesday. I hung up on her during an argument and now she isn’t talking to me. I’m being condemned, Lan. I can’t fucking breathe. My dad’s texting me, telling me how disrespectful I had been, but nobody hears about the parts where she called me an irresponsible adult and ridiculed me for taking a job that didn’t make me that much. Nobody wants to hear my side of the story, the part where she was so grossly unsupportive. Then, I had to cancel on Cameron on Tuesday again because I’m so fucking tired and so fucking busy. She got mad at me and now we’re in this fight because I’ve neglected our friendship. I’m a shit friend, a shit daughter, a shit worker, and it’s so obvious I’m a shit girlfriend. I can’t fucking do anything right.”

By the end of her rant, she was breathless and Lando could see she was talking herself into an anxiety attack. Her hurtful words toward herself needed to be dealt with, but he needed to stop the panic seeping into her skin.

He took her hand and kissed her head, “Come with me, my love.”

She kept crying as he led her to his car, his arm wrapped around her body securely as he whispered words of reassurance in her ear. He reminded her of how strong she was, of how much he loved her and admired her for everything she was. How wrong she was about everything she had convinced herself of.

When he softly laid her in the passenger seat, he kneeled down and kissed her shoulder, brushing her hair off the skin lightly. He looked up at her with deep green eyes filled with safety, “Don’t listen to your mind right now, baby. It’s only telling you lies.”

He lightly closed the door, running around the car to slip into the driver’s seat. When he turned the engine on, his hand settled on her thigh and began rubbing softly. He backed down and drove down the road, toward a small park at the end of her street. It was quick, maybe a minute or two, and Y/n was still crying when they parked, but it subsided momentarily when she saw where they were.

“Why are we at the park?” Lando grabbed her hand and kissed the knuckles.

He laid his cheek down on the back of her palm, murmuring, “Because it’ll be fun to be kids for right now. Not have to think about what you’re going through. We can address that later.”

A sigh of relief left her chest. The moment he had given her an opportunity to run away from it all, even for a few minutes, she almost began to feel as though she would find peace.

He always knew exactly what to do.

She gathered herself, wiping away the tears and smoothing down her hair as Lando walked back to her door, opening it and offering his hand as help for her to get out of the car. She took it. She always would. The cold air hit her body and she shivered. Lando was immediate in offering her his coat.

She shook her head, “No, I’m okay for right now.” She was just now realizing how she hadn’t gone outside in days. The cold air made her feel alive again.

Lando’s hand continued to clutch hers as they took steps toward the large structure. When she let go of his, he tensed, but he relaxed when he saw her wandering over to the slides.

She climbed up the ladder, him following behind, and found herself sat in the entryway of the whirling slide.

“Wait, wait!” Lando yelped before she could push herself down. Her head whipped around to meet his eyes.

She smiled and her body warmed when his found a seat behind her, his body consuming her and his hands wrapping around the low point of her waist. His ear right beside her ear, he kissed the top of the skin, “Now, you can go. We can go down faster, no? Seeing as I go fast for a living.”

His questionable logic made her laugh before he was pushing them off and the two were turning fast around the corner of the yellow tube. Her giggling ensued with the way he jostled them around on purpose to make the slide more exhilarating for two twenty-four year olds. And in the heat of the moment, seeing her hair float in the air and a carefree smile on her face, Lando wished she could see herself the way he did. She was superb, unbelievable. She held the strength and courage of someone so commendable. She was kind even when she had seen things and experienced trauma so young that should’ve, understandably so, made her bitter. She was merciful even when she shouldn’t be and she loved Lando in a way he had only ever dreamed of. The way she treated him, the gentleness she approached him with, was something he knew he could never let go of. She was beautiful in so many other ways than just her appearance. She was deeply beautiful and he wished she could just understand that.

When they reached the end, their bodies stopping abruptly right at the edge, Y/n laid her head back against his shoulder. He kissed her temple, “Fun?”

She nodded with a smile, “Somehow, you did make it faster.”

He shot her a look, as if to question why she didn’t believe him in the first place. He pushed her off him, sprinting to the swings and screaming for her to follow him.

“Lando! Be quiet! You’ll wake up the entire neighborhood!” She whisper-yelled at him, laughing as she ran after him.

He threw himself in the seat and began swinging his legs, no doubt gaining momentum but beckoning her over for help nonetheless.

She stood behind him, bracing herself firmly on the ground as she pushed his heavy body up off the ground. When he would meet her back on the ground, he’d lean back so his back would almost come crashing into her front. It made her laugh.

“Lando!” He couldn’t see her, but he knew how radiant she must’ve been looking. Even in his head, he continued to fall in love with her.

She kept pushing him until her arms got tired and she flopped away from him, onto the ground, in a heap of heavy breaths. When he didn’t feel her small hands on his back anymore, he jumped off the swing and joined her on the ground.

It didn’t matter how cold it was or how dirty it inevitably was, they were together and Y/n’s smile lingered on her pretty face.

Lando’s hand laced with hers in between their bodies as he softly whispered, “You’re not a shit daughter, your parents don’t know what they have and they’re too emotionally immature to realize that. You’re not a shit friend, Cameron knows that, you’re just struggling and that’s okay. You’re not a shit worker, you’re actually heavily valuable to your boss and the people around you. They’ve all told you that. And Y/n, look at me,” She turned her head to meet his meaningful ones, “You are not a shit girlfriend. You are the complete opposite. You are everything I’ve ever wanted and could ever ask for. You have no idea how in love with you I am. It’s even hard for me to understand sometimes. There is no one I have ever loved, love, or will love more than you. You are the most important thing to me, so please stop talking about yourself in this way and believing in something that has never been true.”

Everything about the moment is gentle. From the way his thumb caressed her skin to the enunciation of every word that came from his mouth, he made it clear how much love prospers for her within him every day and every minute.

She turned on her side and took his cheek in her hand, “Thank you for helping me, Lan.”

His hand squeezed her waist, “Of course, my love. You’re my favorite.”

She felt her heart blush, if that’s even possible. Maybe her face was the one blushing? She didn’t know. The way Lando looked at her as if she started life itself made her mind feel fuzzy.

Fuzzy enough to realize he was right. She wasn’t a failure or a horrible person. She was a human who made mistakes and many people loved her in spite of it. Lando being one of them.

He loved her in a way she had always craved. She both needed and wanted him. So did he. They were the beginning and end of everything for the other. It showed well that night as they held each other on the concrete of that park. It showed well because, at one am on a random Saturday, Lando had dropped everything he has doing the moment he heard the anguish in her voice. It showed well because Lando’s clear words made Y/n realize he wanted her and no one else. There was no one else like her, no one to ever replace her. Not that he would ever want that anyway. She was completely unique in the most precious way and maybe… just maybe… she was beginning to realize that too.

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cupids-chamber · 14 days

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— THE CONCUBINE GAME !! | chapter one . . . The first chapter, where you'll be able to catch a climpse of the inner dynamics between the emperor's y/n's secretary and their personal guard, a small entry and brief taste of what's to come, while learning a bit more about our beloved emperor and their staff . . .

— Themes ; Harem / historical au , Twisted wonderland , multiple characters x reader , royalty au , includes rsa + yuuka/yuuken. ♡

The wind was howling, the pitter patter sound of rain could be heard throughout the grand walls of the palace. The sound of heels clicking urgently on the wooden floors, echoing through the empty halls, as Yuuken rushed his way through to the emperor's chambers. It was late, yet he’d been overworked all week preparing the palace for the arrival of certain selected members of the Royal Harem, some were particularly demanding with the way they wanted things sorted out and Yuuken prided himself on never failing to impress.

He banged on the door rather aggressively, “Your majesty, I have certain design plans I need you to finalize before Prince Leona’s arrival, and the first few concubines enter the palace, we don’t have much time!”, he yelled out trying to get the emperor’s attention, it was already late into the night and the palace staff were working overtime meeting every demand that they were given.

Yuuken flinched feeling something touch his shoulder, and right before he could move back and attack, he heard an all too familiar voice—”Don’t bother trying to get their attention, Y/n’s at a meeting”—Yuuka spoke, a small grin on her face while she watched Yuuken try and collect himself, “This late?”, he asked confused, “also please try and address them by proper titles in public”; Yuuka shrugged in response, pausing for a moment before she spoke up once more, “I’d like to keep things the way it is, and you should probably take a break because they’re not coming out of the room at all, it’s something about politics . . . I wasn’t really paying attention”.

Yuuken sighed, slumping his shoulders as he leaned onto the door of the Emperor's chamber, “I-i . . just want everything to be perfect, everything’s been so . . hectic for their majes—y/n and I just really want to provide some stability, you know?”, he said softly, letting his exhaustion take over for a moment and Yuuka’s expression softened, “Hey—you’re doing great, there's a reason y/n gave you full creative liberty”, she ruffled his hair giving him a genuine smile, “don’t push yourself too hard alright? None of us are expecting you to be perfect, not even y/n . .” she finished, as Yuuken closed his eyes and whispered a small, “I know . . .”

Setting: Meeting room Location: The west wing. Time: 11:36pm

You fiddle with your fingers, trying to shift the jewelry that you were covered in, in an attempt to feel more comfortable with the weight that the jewels provided, holding you down . . , as another argument ensues between the nobles, these past few days have felt like a choir, in fact most of the months since you ascended have felt terrible, nothings been exciting—from inheriting an empire doomed to fail, to trying to pick up the scraps of what was left of your fathers reckless decisions and fixing it into something at least palatable, the pressure of everything has left you in a bottomless pit, you needed freedom a refreshing start—something you lost—when you inherited the throne . . .

“—Ah, your majesty?”, one of the nobles spoke up, and you bit your lip, how you hated that title, the moment you inherited this role, your friendships haven’t quite been the same, everyone who you’ve trusted in the past, have now become just another subject, trust is no longer something you earn, as loyalty and trust is to be expected when the crown is on your head.

Setting: Inner Cold Palace Garden Location: Rundown Gazebo Time: 12:46am

"—and they never thanked me'', Yuuken hiccuped out, words slurring due to his alcohol intake, he waved the half finished bottle of some form of expensive imported wine in his hands, swinging it around dramatically; Yuuka chuckled, taking a sip from her glass as she looked around at the scenery of the garden—it used to be much prettier and well taken care of, way back before the previous emperor—y/n’s father—went haywire. . .

"Hey Yuuken, remember when we used to play together here?" she asked without thinking, meeting his eyes for a brief moment all the while Yuuken took another big gulp from his wine bottle . . and then he spoke, "Yeah—you and y/n pushed me into the lake, I still hate the water", he slurred over his words slightly and Yuuka chuckled in response, if only things could've stayed as simple, but now Y/n didn't even have the time to maintain the garden where they're friendship once first blossomed, Yuuka sighed, leaning her head down on the table—which had seen better days— . . the same could be said about their relationship with y/n themselves . .

Masterlist | Introductions (being reworked) | Next chapter

♡. Synposis ; After many months of persuading, the emperor, Y/N L/N had finally agreed to take in a select few concubines and consorts—not an official partner.. but concubines. This caused an uproar in court; however the emperor promised to choose an official partner; amongst the crowd of concubines and consorts.. Who will the emperor choose?

— taglist ♡ (open) : . . tumblr is not letting me mention over 5 people per post, and the staff won't do anything about it, so I recommend just joining my server and picking out the new chapter ping role as it makes things easier for me.

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ki-yomii · 3 months

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hit the gym | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader

➥ word count | 1.5k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; hair pulling, mild dirty talk, established relationship, oral (m receiving), mild body worship?, teasing, hints of exhibitionism/voyeurism

➥ summary | stopping now would ruin all the fun.

➥ notes | yes it's true, i would give jungkook the sloppiest of toppies ✌️also greysweat pants iykyk. a random short one, hope you enjoy 🩶

🩶 masterlist | inbox | AO3 🩶

“Baby.”

Jungkook’s never looked so undone; his eyes hooded and hungry, his mouth raw and red-bitten. Wants so, so badly he’s practically vibrating with it.

And yet, he’s still holding back.

The sound of his knuckles popping as his hands clench into fists beside his hips echoes through the otherwise empty gym. It’s almost kind of precious how much he’s struggling against the urge to throw you back against the wall.

To take, take, take until you’re nothing but a trembling, soaked, thoroughly fucked mess.

You hum in response, digging your nails into the nape of his neck to feel the little shiver that zips down his spine. "What's got you so worried, huh?"

The fact he still has the restraint to resist railing you right then and there - even though he clearly wants to - is so intensely hot you almost choke on your own spit. When his eyes cut to yours, you almost moan at how intensely he stares.

“I just,” he trails off, hands flexing as he catalogs the darkened wall of windows, the entryway, the open space, "I don't think this is a good idea."

Right now, you're the only two in the gym.

While that could change, it's edging closer to midnight.

After several months of joining Jungkook for his exercises, you've found most people aren't as eager to hit the machines at all hours of the day like he is.

The likelihood of getting caught is significantly low which works perfectly for you because it's a high payoff with half the associated risk.

You pretend to think, "Mm, no. I think it's a great idea." Palms dancing over his tense shoulders, you tease your fingers along the loose neck of his t-shirt. "Don't you?"

Jungkook bites off a curse, his body rolling up into your touch. He works his jaw as his teeth tug on his lip piercings. You know he's just itching to drag you into a darkened corner.

"I-I... really, baby, can't we just - y'know? Why does it have to be here?"

No amount of half-hearted protests hides how hard Jungkook is. Deciding to wear grey sweatpants today works against him, the soft cotton slung low on his hips and clinging to the thick line of his fat cock.

You raise a brow, glancing down at where he's digging into your hip, "You were saying, Kook?"

A perverse spark of pleasure lights up your spine at the way his eyes slide away from yours, his throat bobbing when he swallows and shies away.

"Sh-shut up..."

Serves the tease right.

You've had to watch him work out, disheveled and sweat-slick for hours. Hear him grunt and whine from the strain of lifting heavy weights. It's only fair he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Anyway, the thought of being so exposed (without actually getting caught) is kind of exhilarating. Gets your blood pumping and arousal pulsing through your body. A pool of liquid heat blooming low in your belly.

After watching him struggle a little longer between what he wants, and what he thinks he should do, you make his decision for him.

Only as soon as your hand slips past the elastic waistband, your breath stutters in your chest. Where you expect to feel soft cotton, there are miles of smooth skin. With wide eyes, you trace along a hipbone before sliding the tips of your fingers down to brush through a trimmed thatch of pubic hair, stopping once you feel the silken base of his cock.

Jungkook's eyes flutter shut, a full body jolt rocking him into you as his mouth drops open in a guttural moan. Tendrils of arousal coil between your thighs, your pussy throbbing when your fingers close around his bare shaft and he throbs against your warm palm.

If you’d have known he decided to go commando, you’d have been on your knees within the first ten minutes.

Chewing on your lip, you give him a few slow pumps, tightening your grip on the upstroke. The heavy weight of his shaft glides through the circle of your fist with ease.

Your thighs clench.

“What were you saying again, Kook? Cause it looks to me like you worry too much.”

He hisses through his teeth, burrowing his face into his shoulder. The tips of his ears burn bright pink, a creeping blush sinking deep into the apples of his cheeks.

Without waiting for a response, you tug his sweats down as you sink to your knees. His flushed cock springs out, curving up towards his belly with a wet smack.

“Haah - don’t!”

You laugh - a breathless, eager sound - as your hands pet his tense thighs, watching as fat drops of pre-cum ooze down the swollen head, sticky strings clinging to dusky skin.

Fuck, you can't wait to get your tongue on him; to feel the weight of him in your mouth, the tang of his skin, and the taste of his cum as he fucks into the circle of your lips.

To hear the absolutely delicious groans of masculine pleasure that shoot straight to your clit.

“How can you say that when you’re so wet and ready for me?”

“That’s cheating,” Jungkook groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. He peeks down at you through the gaps in his fingers, gulping at how pretty you look on your knees with his cock in your hand. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me.”

You hum, eyes sparking mischief as you dip down to brush a kiss along the strap of muscle above his hipbone. The smell of his bodywash surrounds you, tickling your nose. “Yeah, but you love it, don’t you?”

The sight of him looming over you, his hair a tussled mess and a starved glint to his coffee-dark eyes, is a visceral sucker punch that has your heart stuttering and your mouth watering. Wanting to sink your teeth in.

“You know I do,” he mumbles.

Brought to the very edge of control, left teetering; you wonder how much further you have to push until he breaks.

A blooming warmth hooks into your belly, spreads down to settle between your thighs. The crotch of your shorts is soaked through, every shift of fabric dragging along your sensitive folds. A whisper of friction that drives you insane.

“Mm, now are you ready, baby?”

Taking his silence for the acquiescence it is, you dip down and run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. His cock bobs, a fresh bead of pre-cum welling to the surface.

Watching him from beneath your lashes with a coy smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth, you clean him up with a kittenish lick. Following the trails of salty arousal with your tongue.

Jungkook grunts - choked-off, wounded sound that punches its way out his chest.

You hum, and slide your hands up over his thighs. Stopping when palms rest against his abs, your nails dig in, drag down. The muscles clench, red welts developing in the wake of your touch.

Satisfaction warms your blood, Jungkook’s next breath is a low hiss as he stutters, rocks forward before catching himself with a murmured curse, “S-Shit…”

His fist pounds against the wall - once, twice, three times. His jaw works fast as he scrambles to regain his slipping control. You know what buttons to push and with every careful caress, every calculated hint of rough, his body sparks to life.

He’s almost there, you can see it; all his savage edges creeping in, pressing against his skin. You can’t wait. It’s always so explosive between the two of you when he gives in, allows himself to truly whet his appetite.

He tangles his hand in your hair, digging a thumb into your bottom lip to watch as your mouth stretches around him. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”

The grit of his voice, dark and full of hunger cuts through you. You moan around a mouthful of him, eyes fluttering shut as your veins fill with liquid fire. Your thighs rub together for relief from the ache in your pussy.

It’s so difficult to tease him because more often than not, you want nothing more than to pull off and hop on. To let him ride you hard. Put you away wet and thoroughly used.

But you can’t, not yet.

Stopping now will spoil all the fun.

Trying to distract yourself, you suckle on the head, roll your lips, and flick your tongue over the spongy flesh. When you dip into the slit, he whines, “Ohh..my god, oh ffuuh..ck yes.”

Those broad shoulders hunch forward over your head like he took a kick to the chest, a full-bodied shiver wracking his frame. He yanks on your hair and you clench in response, the little tremors in his thighs stroking your ego as you pop him out of your mouth.

“Mm, I think I do,” you purr, rubbing your tender, spit-slick lips along the shaft. “Now let me show you what you do to me.”

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts fanfic

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merakiui · 1 month

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the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly.

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious, places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline.

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #n/sfw #tw: age gap #tw: dubcon #tw: pregnancy mention

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yourdarlingalina · 4 months

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is it new years yet? | jack hughes

synopsis: y/n's new years kiss is the last person she expected, her former fuck buddy pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader word count: 2.7k warnings: slightly steamy, heavy making out, mentions of sex, a bit angsty, not properly proofread is it new years yet? - sabrina carpenter

What's the best way to forget about your fuck buddy who broke things off with you a week before Christmas? Who you definitely don't have feelings for and who definitely didn't find out about said feelings by accident?

From a responsible person's point of view, it was the correct decision. I fell for someone who just wanted no strings attached sex. He doesn't want a relationship, and it is supposed to save me from being hurt even worse in the future. But I am not a responsible person. A responsible person wouldn't have been talking about their feelings with friends when they knew that the person they had feelings for was also in the same bar.

Which is how I ended up in my current situation. A glass of champagne in one hand while the other holds onto a random guy's shoulder as we sway and grind to the upbeat tempo blasting through the club's speakers. The best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one, right? At least, that's what my friends were telling me as they convinced me to go out with them for New Year's Eve.

"Start the new year off with someone new."

And start the new year off with someone new I will. The guy in front of me is decent looking, he's no Jack but he'd do. His hands were at least doing all the right things, one gripping my hip to pull me closer as the other was pushing my hair out of the way of my neck so that he could leave sloppy open mouthed kisses to my skin. Hands roamed down my body as I brought the champagne flute closer to my lips, this night would require copious amounts of alcohol if I am to make it to midnight. He pawed his hands down from my hips to my ass, gripping and squeezing in ways that should be making me want to push my body harder against his. His mouth trailing from my neck down to cleavage, nipping and sucking at the exposed flesh.

He was doing everything right to my body, but it just didn't feel right. I wanted it to be Jack who was brave enough to handle me this way in the middle of a crowded club, not ashamed to be seen with me, but it wasn't. He made it very clear that he only wanted me in private, with no one knowing that I was his on those nights and that he was mine, even if it was only for a short time. It was like he knew my body better than I did, knew what buttons to press to make me cry out his name. How he made me come undone again and again. The kisses that gave me full body shivers and touches that left my skin feeling like it was set alight.

I was not getting those feelings with the man attached to my body. He seemed like he'd be a great lover for a night, but not in the way I needed. Perhaps if I met him before everything, I could be happy with him but it felt like I had been ruined.

A party popper would end up becoming my hero of the night when one went off right next to my ear causing the glass in my hand to tumble down, splashing champagne on the man as it made its way down to shatter on the floor.

"Oh God! I am so sorry!" I profusely apologize as the man whose name I can't quite remember jumps away from me.

"It's alright, suppose I was gonna end up sticky tonight anyway. I'll be back." He shoots me a wink as he makes off in the direction of the bathrooms. I take the brief moment to escape to the bar, being careful to not slip on the alcohol or broken glass scattering the floor.

I push past the glitter and sweat coated bodies, pushing myself into a corner where I don't think my former dance partner will find me. One of the bartenders comes over to take my drink order not long after I get into my seat.

"What can I get for you?" The man asks quickly, obviously on the verge of losing it due to the new year's rush tonight.

"She'll have a vodka cranberry and I'll have a beer." A voice says from behind me, a voice I know extremely well. I didn't know he was going to be here tonight. Not a single person thought to mention that to me? The bartender makes a move to speak but the man behind me continues, "Brand doesn't matter, just whatever you have." The bartender just nods then scurries off to get our drinks.

I slowly turn on my stool to face him.

"Jack." I say, acknowledging him.

"y/n." He says back, sending shivers down my spine with just how he says my name. He moves closer, keeping me between the counter and his body. Leaning over his body almost touches mine, he keeps his eyes on me, his face getting closer, and for just a second I think he's about to kiss me, but his fingers wrap around the beer bottle that was placed on the counter and suddenly he's back where he was originally standing. "You seem to be having fun tonight."

"You've been watching me?" I blurt out before I could think. Instead, grabbing my drink, putting it to my mouth before I could say anything else.

"Hard not to when you're basically letting whoever that was fuck you in front of everyone." He bitterly spits out. He's jealous? He's not allowed to be jealous. He doesn't want me, I got that loud and clear.

"So? Why do you care?" His eyes snap to me. "I'm not yours, I never was." I break my eyes away from his, suddenly thinking about how interesting my drink looks. He smirks at my sudden movement, his fingers grip my chin and force me to look at him. His face is so close to mine again, I can feel his breath on my face, can smell the alcohol off his lips. He's intoxicating. I clench my thighs together at the small act. Even like this he still has so much power over me. I am undoubtedly his.

His eyes flick from my eyes down to my clenched thighs to my eyes again to the countdown clock behind me and finally back to my eyes. "Thirty minutes till midnight. Meet me on the balcony upstairs in fifteen?" He's asking but it comes out as more of a command.

"Why would I do that?" I push back. I can at least hold onto a little bit of my dignity during this. Can't I? Might be debatable.

"Because I made a mistake two weeks ago." He whispers against my lips. My eyes flutter shut, he's gone when I open them.

◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈ ◈

Fifteen minutes went by quicker than I would've liked for them to. I still haven't made up mind on if I should talk to him or not, but my body decided that I'd still go. I slowly made my way up, giving myself more time to collect my thoughts. I hadn't talked to him properly since that night.

It was a night out after a big win, Jack had invited me and some friends to go out with him and the team. Teasing remarks were thrown at me about how I look at Jack like I was in love. I never did hide my staring well. He had noticed too, how when he looked over at me, my eyes were already on him. Adoration was obvious in my eyes when they were on him. When I got quiet and didn't make any attempt to shoot down the accusations they all got loud. "You love Jack!" They shouted over and over. My cheeks flushed, embarrassment flooded up veins, I had to get away from it.

He heard. I turned to leave the group and he was behind me, eyes wide and jaw slack in shock. He was frozen, a deer in headlights. Me whispering his name snapped him out of his daze causing him to walk off in the opposite direction. I made the mistake of going after him.

"We said no strings attached." He said after the door slammed behind me, his back still facing me.

"I know." My words came out whispered, I was terrified of this. This was never meant to happen. Feelings were never supposed to happen. He was never supposed to find out that one of our few rules were broken.

"We can't continue like this." He finally turned and faced me. He showed no emotion, he was so goddamn hard to read. His blank facial expressions would be the bane of my existence.

"I know." I whispered again, the only words I could get out. I fucked up, by catching feelings, by continuing this when I knew I caught feelings. I tried to push them down and pretend that they didn't exist, but it just wasn't enough.

"I don't love you." I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tears start to well up and not daring to let them have the chance of escaping. I knew how he felt, but hearing it was a completely different feeling.

"I know." I sobbed out. He was gone by the time I opened my eyes.

Here I was, yet again, going after him. I somehow made it to the top of the stairs and through the crowd of dancing bodies. There he was, standing on the balcony, leaning over the railing and looking out at the Hudson. I stood there for a good minute, just staring at him, debating on if it was even worth listening to him. Did he really make a mistake or was he just feeling guilty that he didn't reciprocate my feelings?

"What was the mistake?" I finally ask.

His head whips around so fast that I almost think that he's about to give himself whiplash. A small laugh like huff comes out as I walk further out onto the balcony.

"I almost thought you weren't gonna come." His voice is softer, careful, like he was actually scared of the thought that I wouldn't meet him. I look back at the countdown clock on the wall, ten minutes to midnight.

"I like to be fashionably late." He lets a small laugh escape at my comment. God, I love that sound.

"You always have." He turns away again, hands gripping the railing, knuckles turning white from the tension.

"You still haven't answered my question." I say, waiting for him to finally tell me what the mistake was. Was he regretting ending us or how he spoke to me?

"That night." He starts to say before cutting himself off, lips pursed into a thin line.

"Yes?" I nudge his leg with the tip of my heel. He looks at me, eyes scanning my face like he's trying to read my thoughts. Trying to get any idea of what I'm thinking.

"I lied to you." No. "I said I didn't love you." No. "I lied." No.

I should be wanting to hear this, but I don't. I never thought I'd be the type of person to run back to a man just because he gives me a pretty apology and I will not start now, especially when I know it's not true.

"You don't love me, you just miss the sex. Don't worry, you'll find someone else to suck your dick." I move to walk away before I feel this hand come up to grip my arm. He was not going to make this easy for me. All I want to do is go home and crawl under my blankets, forget that all of this even happened in the first place.

"Please, just hear me out." I turn my head to look at him and goddamn those eyes that make me want to melt. He's looking at me so sweetly, I've never seen him look at anyone like this.

"Make it quick." I brush off his hand and lean back towards the railing.

"Oh come on, you know I don't do quickies." He attempts to make a joke, a playful smile pulling on his lips. It quickly fades though as he get serious again. "I broke our rule before we even made it." My head snaps up at his words. What?

"I loved you before we slept together that first time." He can't be telling me the truth. No, our first night together was a drunken mess that was just meant to be a one night stand. The relationship that came after was just mutually beneficial, he didn't have to worry about someone running to the tabloids and I got someone who touched me in a way I didn't think was possible.

"Stop lying to me." I choke out. I don't need a pity confession from him, especially when I just want to leave him behind next year which is in, I quickly check the clock, three minutes.

"I'm not!" He counters back just as the words leave my mouth.

"If you loved me you wouldn't have reacted like that." My eyes are brimming with tears, this is not how I wanted my night to go. I just wanted to find a new guy to kiss at midnight to make me forget about Jack.

"I never thought you'd feel the same." How he could think that is astounding. I don't think he realizes just how magnetic he is, and not just because he's Jack Hughes, hockey star. No, he was much more than that. A good friend, a shoulder to lean on, someone that listens when you really need it, a respectful person who makes you feel like you're floating when his attention is on you. "I'm not good at expressing my emotions."

"Yeah, no shit!" I nearly scream at him. "What do you expect me to do with this?"

"I want to start fresh next year." He admits, his eyes lock back onto mine. "If you gave me another chance, I promise, I won't fuck it up again." He's not lying, he's being genuine. I can see it written all over his face, the softening of his eyes, the breaking down of his walls. He's having a hard time even attempting to be vulnerable about this.

The shouting from the party starts to get louder. "Ten!" Maybe I should give him another chance. "Nine!" If I get hurt again then it's on me. "Eight!" He is who I want to be with. "Seven!" Why not? Is this not what I wanted just hours ago? "Six!"

"Kiss me." I tell him.

"Five!"

"What?" He sputters out.

"Four!"

"You heard me." I say, giving him a soft smile so that he knows I truly mean it.

"Three!" He shifts his body to be parallel mine. "Two!" His hands cup my cheeks. "One!" His lips meet mine as literal fireworks go off. "Happy New Year!" People shout around us. But my mind is just on him. As he's pulling me as close as humanly possible but it's still not enough.

My hands snake up with his abdomen, fingers gripping at anything they can. His hands move to my hair, to my neck, down my chest, caressing softly down to my hips, pulling and pleading to get as close as possible. My body was being set alight, the familiar feeling I've been yearning for. He's pulling sounds out from me that I've never made before. It's from the feeling that he's fully mine now, no hesitancy in his movements, he's confident and proud in what he's doing.

My fingers move up to curl around strands of his hair, pulling his face fully flush to mine, lips melding and moving against each other at a fiery pace. We break away unfortunately to catch our breath, our smiling faces still touching, neither one of us making an attempt to move farther away. In fact, he's nuzzling his face even closer into mine, if that was even possible.

"What are you going to do with me now?" I ask against his lips, looking up into those beautiful, mind melting, ocean like eyes.

"Start the year off right, by apologizing in so many ways." He says then capturing my lips again before dragging me through the crowd of bodies, down the stairs, and out of the door.

#alina writes #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #new jersey devils #nhl imagine

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hajimeseyo · 3 months

Text

You're staring, Izana notices.

He has no idea who you are, really, but you've been trying (and obviously failing) to sneak subtle glances at him the entire time since he stepped into the convenience store. It's starting to throw him off, just a little. For all he knows, you could be a spy from an opposing gang. Not a very good one, though.

Your gaze follows him as he walks towards the cashier and pays, and even as he walks towards the exit, plastic bags in hand. He pays it no mind as he feels it shift off him, the sound of the cashier greeting you the last thing he hears as he steps outside the store.

It didn't seem like you were going to pick a fight with him, he might as well just leave it be.

Besides, any gang that dared to come after Tenjiku would just be mercilessly crushed under his heel. A spy or two wouldn't change that fact.

The clouds above him rumble, dark and heavy, and he frowns, looking up at the cloudy sky. It would be a pain in the ass if it rained while he was in the middle of walking home. Maybe he could call Kakucho to pick him up. Or he could just buy an umbrella from the store right behind him…

The sound of footsteps snap him out of his thoughts, and he glances to the side to see you, head lowered and lips mouthing numbers as you take inventory of the things in your plastic bag. You don't seem to have noticed him, he notes in amusement.

His theory proves true when you look up, done from counting, and nearly jump at the sight of him staring straight at you. Your eyes are wide, the way you freeze reminding him of a prey caught by its hunter, and he can't stop himself from having a little fun.

“You were staring at me quite a lot earlier, huh?” He says, relishing in the way your face flushes with embarrassment, and the way you instantly try (and fail) to school it into a look of nonchalance. “Is there a problem?”

You cough awkwardly, eyes suddenly unable to look at him despite being fully glued onto him just minutes ago. Izana watches you squirm, all too used to these shows of discomfort. Based on most of his past interactions, you'll probably come up with some lame excuse on why you were staring at him, then take the first opportunity you have to run away. Or get defensive, and aggressively deny you were doing anything of the sort. People always act the same when confronted with their actions. Izana's used to the same old song and dance.

He wonders which route you’ll take.

To his surprise, you take neither of them.

You seem to come to a decision, gaze snapping up to him, nervous but suddenly full of what seems like determination.

“There's no problem, I was just staring because–” You falter a little here, cheeks reddening a little again, before you pull yourself together with a quick shake of the head. “Because, well…your eyes.”

“Hm?” That response certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. “What about them?”

“They're beautiful.”

The words are said so plainly, without a trace of any doubt, and Izana is shocked speechless.

While he doesn't deny that he's good looking, the word ‘beautiful’ and any part of him have never been together in the same sentence before. That he's heard of, at least. Even if any of his subordinates had the guts to consider him ‘beautiful’, they definitely wouldn’t have the guts to say it to his face. Granted, you probably don’t have any idea who he is, but still. This is definitely a first.

(And even so, the thought that something about him could be beautiful was something that had never occurred to him.)

“...Really?” The words come out in a whisper before he could stop himself.

You nod vigorously, and once again Izana is thrown off by the fact that it's something you're so sure of. As if the thought of it being untrue has never even crossed your mind.

His response seems to appear to you as an invitation to talk more, as you continue speaking, hesitation fading away with each word that comes out of your mouth. “They're just such a beautiful shade of purple, like amethysts. I've never seen anything like it before. And paired with your long white eyelashes and white hair, you look like someone's painting came to life.”

"I don't know if anyone's told you before, but you're really a sight to behold."

There's a light, pleasant feeling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it is.

“Ah!” You suddenly slap your hands over your mouth. “I spoke too much! God, I must've sounded like a creep, I'm so sorry–”

A laugh cuts you off from your panicked rambling. Izana doesn't quite know why he's laughing, but seeing you panicking over saying the wrong things despite being fully shameless literally right before just seemed so funny, and well, there's such a nice warmth in his chest; indulging in it doesn't hurt, right?

(He doesn’t notice the stars in your eyes as you stare, almost in awe, at his laughing visage.)

“What’s your name?” You’re interesting, he’s decided. It would be a shame to let you just slip away.

“[name].”

He lets out a hum. “[name], huh…got it.”

“Wait.” You call out to him, just as he turns and begins to walk away. “What’s yours?”

He doesn’t notice, but as he turns back, there’s a genuine, serene smile on his face that would’ve shocked even the noisiest Haitani twins into silence at seeing it on the face of the highly feared leader of Tenjiku.

“Izana. Don’t forget it.”

(He’s scolded nonstop by Kakucho when he shows up at home, soaking wet from the heavy downpour outside.

“It’s not like you to be so careless.” Kakucho huffs, drying his hair roughly with all the fierceness of an Asian mom. “You knew it was going to start raining on your way back, why didn’t you just call for one of us to get you from the store?”

Izana hums unconcernedly. “I was already walking away from the store, I couldn’t just stop and turn back.”

“Huh?? Why the hell not??”

“Don’t be stupid, Kakucho. I would’ve looked so uncool.”

“??????”)

(part 2 here!)

#just a silly little drabble i thought of #no seriously tho bro is gorgeous #ethereal #beautiful #definitely deserves more love #i love pretty men 🫶#izana #izana kurokawa #izana x reader #izana kurokawa x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #my writing

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

The Farmer's Daughter 1

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

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

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You stand on your tiptoes, a dangerous choice as you stand on a wooden stool, reaching to clip pegs around the folded edge of the linen sheet. You clasp it over the cord in three places and reel along the length, bending to pull a wet pillowcase from the basket.

“You’re grinding on the clutch,” Walter’s voice carries through the barn door before he emerges, “you need another driving lesson.”

“I know how to drive stick,” your brother, Timothy, argues with the larger man. “It’s not the clutch.”

“Ermph,” the other man grunts in return.

“Thanks for having a look though,” Timothy slaps his arm lightly.

He gets another grumble from the chronically grumpy man. Walter is older than your brother, by quite a bit; and you too. He’s tall and burly and his brow never truly loses its furrow. He’s fonder of your father than Timothy; you’re sure if he didn’t feel some kinship with your father, he’d never venture this far.

Walter is a big, burly man. He has a lumbering gait you can recognise even as he’s at the property’s edge, and his curly hair falls messily around his chiseled face. There’s a touch of silver in one curl but his age doesn’t show otherwise.

You refocus on hanging the laundry. You stand on your toes and strain to clip the beg on the line. The stool wobbles and you put your feet flat, steadying it. You suck in your lower lip and look around. Timothy’s gone, you hear him back in the barn clattering through the toolbox, but Walter remains. He narrows his eyes at you as you give a sheepish smile.

“Hi, Mr. Marshall,” you say.

“Hey,” he returns in his way.

You don’t expect much more so you wind the line further and once more bend to take another piece of clothing. You quickly forget his presence and go back to your precarious game. Back on your toes, the stool tips and you gasp, a scream catching in your throat as you brace yourself for the violent tumble.

You don’t hit the ground though. You barely even tip as you're caught under the arms. You open your eyes as Walter holds you well over the ground. He does so effortlessly.

“I… Mr. Marshall, thank you,” you breathe.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he grits.

“Um, I know,” you wiggle your feet and look at the ground, “um, can you put me down.” He does just that and you laugh at yourself, “thanks.”

“Hm,” he sidles down to the basket.

To your surprise he takes out the next sheet and easily throws it over the line. He holds out a hand but you just stare at his calloused palm. What is he doing?”

“Pin,” he demands gruffly.

“Oh, uh, sure,” you step up and place a pin in his hand. His fingers brush around yours as he closes them. You retract your reach as he clasps it over the linen. He puts his hand out for the next and again, you hand one over.

“Don’t do it again,” he says as he grabs the next piece of laundry.

“Mr. Marshall, I won’t, but you don’t need to–”

“It’s fine,” he carries on, set on his mission of putting out the drying. “Your father wouldn’t be happy if I let you hurt yourself.”

“Erm, I guess,” you give him another pin.

He’s silent as his blue gray eyes fixate on his chore. He bends to grab more, drapes the cloth over, and takes a pin to secure it in place. You work in wordless rhythm until the basket is empty and the line is full.

“How is he?” He asks.

You put your hands behind you and wring them, “better. Ma says he’ll be home next week.”

He nods and looks at you. He crosses his arms, straining the fabric of his long-sleeved tee. It’s warm out, enough to dampen his shirt with sweat. Still, he doesn't seem to mind.

“If you need anything,” he peers around the fields, “big place for just you and the other one.”

“Oh, Tim? Yeah, we manage.”

He scratches the scruff on his chin and shifts his stance. You’ve never seen him flinch before, never hesitate or doubt, but in that moment, he seems unsure. He clears his throat and drops his hand.

“Well, have a good day,” he bows his head slightly. “Have your brother take down the laundry.”

You look away guiltily, staring at the stool, “you, too, Mr. Marshall.”

He backs away a few steps and you cautiously glance at his boots as he does. He stops and you hold your breath.

“I don’t mind Walt,” he says.

“Right,” your voice flutters, “Walt.”

He twists on his heel and continues across the grass to the trodden road. He follows it down towards the fence. You tear your gaze away and gather up the basket and the stool. You leave them on the porch and sit in the shade as sweat speckles on your forehead.

Your heart is still racing, likely from your near disastrous slip. You think you will have Timothy take down the sheets. You may even convince him to help your fold.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #drabble #au #series #the farmer's daughter #backwoods au #night hunter

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milesluvbot · 10 months

Text

the strength challenge

pairing: e!1610 miles morales x afro latina reader

summary: after scrolling mindlessly on tiktok, you insist on getting your boyfriend into doing another trend with you, not knowing it would end up a bit more intimate than expected.

warnings: fluff!!! + suggestive content

a/n: enjoy!! <33 i did use google translate so apologies for any bad spanish. + this vid was the inspo for the one shot:

guapa/guapo : pretty/handsome

reina/rey : queen/king

“Miles, please, let’s do it!” You suggest to Miles, a wide smile plastered on your face. Your head sprung up from his chest, forcing Miles to detach his fingers from your head full of coils, and now you were facing him with the best puppy eyes you could possibly make. You were both resting in his room for an hour or so, both scrolling through TikTok mindlessly, as your head laid on his chest and his arm was sprawled over your waist. You were content, but that feeling slowly dissipated as your boyfriend kept telling you the one word you hate the most; No.

“Nope, nah, no. And don’t give me those eyes.” He replies, a ghost of a smile present on his countenance. He lets out a sigh at your persistence, and readjusts himself on the bed so you were both facing each other. Unbeknownst to you, his reluctance to partake in this challenge was mainly so you wouldn't gain any suspicions about where his unnatural strength came from, as he wasn't ready for that conversation just yet.

“What eyes, guapo?” Now this was more than intentional. You knew flattery was the way into anyone's heart, and this was especially applicable to the boy in front of you. You see a small smirk grow on Miles’ face, making you feel all giddy inside. (That’s the impact his smile had on you.) You scoot from the other side of the bed and approach Miles with your eyes closed, in the hopes he’ll do what you want.

As hoped, he did what you wanted and pressed a kiss onto your glossed lips. Just as he was about to pull away, you place your hand upon his face and kiss deeper, taking him for surprise. You hum into the kiss, ensuring all your thoughts and pleads were communicated. You break apart from him, with his hand still planted on the side of your face. You flutter your lashes to seal the deal, glancing from his lips to his beautiful brown eyes.

“A’ight fine. Show me the thing.” He says enervated, entirely changing his approach after your kiss. You grin, celebrating your victory with a shrill squeal. You sit beside him, your head on his shoulder and his arm draped over yours. You show the TikTok, as you both see the couple attempt different moves to test their strength.

“Ahora puedes llevarme como la reina que soy.” (Now you can carry me like the queen that I am.) You state, booping the tip of Miles’ nose, making him shake his head and chuckle.

“And I’m your rey? ¿Sí? ” He questions, tilting his head to the side, staring directly into you. You roll your eyes and you plan to ignore him but Miles insists on you vocally agreeing. He cups your face warmly, getting you to look at him. You burst into a fit of laughter, your head bobbing in his hands as you spread your contagious laugh. Miles starts to laugh too, after seeing you become overcome by giggling.

Once you finally gain composure, you breathe out a response. “Yes! Yes, Miles you are. Now can we do the challenge?” Miles nods, as he tells you to pull up the video to decide which movies to recreate. You both decided on a push up and a hip thrust to begin with.

“I can’t even do a regular push up, what makes you think I can do one with you on my back? Are you trying to kill off your girl already?” You exclaim dramatically, regretting your decision to suggest this. Miles smiles widely, clearly very excited. Too excited.

You get into the plank position, feet shoulder width apart and your head hung low. You tried to mentally prepare yourself, but nothing could prepare you for the weight that was literally put onto your shoulders. Your body hits his bedroom floor, absolutely failing at staying upright, let alone doing a press up.

“Miles! Chill!” You groan out (whilst smiling to yourself), rubbing the knees that collided against the floor.

“My bad. I’m sorry guapa.” He replies, giving you multiple pecks on your mouth and both kneecaps. You begin laughing to yourself at the sheer stupidity of the situation, and Miles follows suit.

“Boy, don’t laugh too hard because I don’t think you’ll do that much better!” You comment, catching Miles' attention. His eyebrow raises at that comment, and a smile appears on his face once again.

“Bet. Get on top of me then.” He instructs and gets into position, as he fights down a laugh after realising how that sounds.

“Not like that-”

“Honestly, I don’t mind either way.” You state nonchalantly, making Miles get all bashful and awkward. A side of him that you’ve always loved.

You climb onto Miles, putting all of your weight onto him. You even cross your legs on his back and you still couldn’t detect any falters in strength or a little wobble. He presses down into the ground and comes back up to his original position with ease, multiple times. You furrow your eyebrows, thinking this can’t be the same scrawny boy you fell in love with. You hop off his back, and he jumps up, brushing his hands off. You furrow your eyebrow as bewilderment is plastered all over your face.

“Wh-”

“Gym!” He blurts out quickly. Miles clears his voice, regaining his cool. “Gym. Been going for a couple months, been meaning to tell you.” He answers, a quivering smirk present on his face. You mouth out an ‘okay’ and move onto the next movement, the hip thrust.

Miles offers to go first, still feeling slightly guilty for your little knee incident. He sits back down on the floor, resting his back against his bed frame. You realise this pose is a bit more intimate than a push up and you shyly smile to yourself. You sit down on Miles’ lap, suddenly getting in extremely close proximity to Miles. Your breath flutters against his lashes and you can practically see every speck on his face, from his chestnut irises to the pattern of his eyebrow hairs. You wrap your hands behind his neck as his hands are carefully placed on your waist, his fingers tapping into your skin out of habit.

“Well don’t forget the challenge now, Morales.”

His eyes were focused on everywhere but your eyes, avoiding eye contact with you as if it’s the plague. You laugh to yourself quietly. Miles finally completes the hip thrust, lifting you up and putting you down with such ease and stability. None of you move. Your heads inch closer, ghosting each other's lips.

“Y/N, I-”

Before you know it, the door to Miles’ room whips open, revealing Mrs. Morales standing there with a laundry basket full of clothes.

“Miles, I thought I told you to leave this door-”

You and Miles look up, jaws wide open at this surprise appearance, wincing in embarrassment. You understand how this looks to Rio, seeing her son underneath his girlfriend as she straddles him. It looks that way, but it truly isn’t. You think. You quickly get up from Miles, and shift away from him as much as you possibly could. The levels of embarrassment squashes you whole, wishing for yourself to be anywhere but here.

“-open. This door is supposed to be open.” Rio says after giving Miles an extremely stern look.

“It's not-”

“I’m so so sor-”

“Just come and eat, Miles. Y/N, are you staying for dinner?” Rio questions, pinching her nose bridge in annoyance. You could practically hear the lecture Miles was about to get. And as for yourself, you’re lucky that you’re her favourite, or else this would’ve ended very differently.

“No it’s okay, thank you. I need to head home anyway. Thanks.” You respond quickly, not trying to stay any longer in the tense atmosphere. You quickly grab the stuff that was within arms reach and exit Miles room.

“Bye, Miles.” You say flurried, before giving an extremely ‘I’m so sorry about everything’ glance to Rio. She nods in approval, before crossing her arms and facing her son.

Miles was dead.

#miles morales #atsv x reader #atsv #miles morales x y/n #earth 1610 #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #miles morales x reader #miles x reader #miles morales imagine #miles morales x black!reader #earth 42 miles fluff #miles morales fluff #miles morales smut #across the spiderverse

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nexysworld · 11 months

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Gym Adventures

Read on AO3 🖤 Requests are Open 🖤 Masterlist

Summary: Leon and Chris convince you to go to the gym with them for the first time. While you're not super keen at first, what you don't expect is the additional activities you manage to get up to.

Or: Hot gym-shower threesome with Chris and Leon. Pairing: Chris & Leon x Fem!Reader Tags: NSFW, Smut, Thigh riding, blowjobs,throatfucking, shower sex, unprotected sex, double creampie, p in v sex, threesome, dirty talk, praise, sex in a public place? (no other people there tho.) No use of Y/N

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you let out a sigh and gave yourself a once-over, turning to get a full picture of your appearance. You wondered if this outfit would meet the mysterious criteria of being "gym appropriate." It was the fourth outfit you had tried on, and none of them felt quite right. Tossing another top onto the bed, joining the pile of discarded clothes, you decided to take a different approach.

As you pulled on the fifth top of the day, a knock on the door interrupted you. "We're going to be late. You know I was joking when I said 'dress to impress.' I promise no one cares what you wear to the gym," Chris called out. He and Leon had been taking turns trying to convince you to make a decision on your attire so that you could finally get going. They had been persistent in convincing you to join them at the gym in the first place, and it had taken them a week to succeed.

"I know that," you replied. "Just give me a few more minutes, okay?"

If you were being honest, the issue wasn't really the clothing, but the idea of working out with them in general. They were both so fit from their jobs that it made you feel self-conscious, regardless of what you were wearing. Coming to this realization, you opted to throw a sweater over your current outfit and opened the door to a startled Leon, who was now taking his turn to knock. Apparently, you had taken longer than just a few minutes this time.

"Oh, there you are. I thought we were going to be late," he said with an awkward chuckle.

"How can we be late to a 24-hour gym?" you inquired as he stepped back to let you pass.

"It was just a figure of speech. I thought you were never going to leave the room," he explained as the three of you made your way to the front door, heading outside into the crisp night air. You had agreed to go only if there wouldn't be anyone else around, so they suggested going in the middle of the night.

Upon arriving at the gym, you felt relieved to see that there was indeed no one else there. It eased your anxiety a little. Entering the building, the two men immediately took it upon themselves to show you around, pointing out different equipment and asking about your interests. "Uh... the treadmill, I guess," you replied, not fully absorbing all the fitness information they were throwing at you.

"Are you sure that's all?" Chris raised an eyebrow.

"No judgment from us," Leon added. "We just thought you might want to work on your strength too." He flexed his arm playfully. You rolled your eyes, but it did manage to make you laugh.

"No thanks, maybe next time. I think the treadmill is just fine for now," you said, taking off the oversized sweater and tossing it aside. The lack of response from the two men with you was odd since they always had something to say, especially Leon.

"Everything okay? Did I do something wrong?" Suddenly, anxiety washed over you, thinking you may have done something silly like turning the machine on incorrectly. You turned to look at them and saw that they were both staring at you before immediately whipping their heads in other directions, trying to act cool.

"Oh, you're fine," Chris said, turning to face the weights. "We were just keeping an eye on you, making sure you didn't blow up the machine or something."

Leon seemed uneasy too, already walking towards a piece of equipment whose name you couldn't remember. "What Chris said. Just making sure you're okay."

‘Well, that was weird,’ you thought to yourself, stepping onto the treadmill. It wasn't like them to not hover, especially if there was even the slightest chance of you hurting yourself. You let the thought go, assuming that the gym was their domain and maybe they were just serious about their own workouts. However, the silence as time went on did make you feel a bit uneasy.

You decided to put in your earbuds, listening to some music as you ran, tuning out everything around you. Every now and then, you glanced over at one of them, thinking you caught them staring, only to see them quickly avert their gaze when they noticed you looking. Their increasingly strange behavior puzzled you, but you chose to ignore it, focusing on your music and your run.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed until your music stopped, concluding your workout playlist. Breaking a sweat and feeling a satisfying burn in your legs, you stopped the treadmill and stepped off. Raising your arms above your head, you stretched from side to side before bending down to touch your toes. The stretching felt great, and although hesitant to admit it, running in the gym instead of the humid outside air did feel a lot better. Maybe Chris and Leon had been right about going.

When you looked around, you noticed that Chris was nowhere to be found, and Leon seemed to be finishing up his own routine. You took it as a cue to grab your bag and make your way over to the showers. However, in your distraction, you accidentally walked straight into the men's showers, only realizing your mistake when you stopped abruptly, seeing Chris facing the showerhead in his stall, steam radiating from around his lower half.

A lump formed in your throat as you watched them. You knew them for a while, yet you couldn't summon a memory of ever seeing either of them without their shirts much less naked. You had gotten a sense of their bodies through their work clothes and the thin material of their t-shirts, but this was entirely different.

Your eyes followed the water droplets that glided down Chris's back, each one collecting into all of his perfect curves before sliding off of him. His body moved like a masterpiece beneath the shower water. You felt warmth fill your stomach as the spark of desire began growing.

'I should go. I should go before he catches me--' Your thoughts were interrupted before you could act on them.

"You know, they say it's not polite to stare," Leon's silky voice purred, his warm breath tickling your ear from behind.

"I wasn't staring!" You protested louder than intended. Turning around, planning to scramble past Leon, you saw that he was disrobed as well, wearing only his underwear.

'Fuck, he's fit too,' you thought, your eyes fixed on his well-carved body. It was like someone had taken a lingerie model from the pages of a magazine and put him in front of you. Heat rose to your face, embarrassed that Leon had caught you peeking at Chris in the shower, and now you were completely frozen in place, ogling Leon as well.

"Are you sure about that, Princess?" Leon's lips stretched into a mischievous grin. You found yourself unable to look away from the trail of hair below his navel and then to the band of his black boxers. Your nipples became hard against your bra and your panties clinging to you with an uncomfortable wetness as you fought for words to respond.

To your dismay, Chris had heard part of the commotion and turned to look at you and Leon. "What the hell?!" You couldn't tell if he was more irritated or confused as he stared at the two of you.

“My apologies, Redfield. It appears our young lady here can’t help but stare,” Leon joked, lightly caressing your cheek with his thumb. Annoyed and embarrassed at his comment, you batted it away.

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked, raising an eyebrow.

Attempting to duck out of the steam-filled room, you were stopped by Leon. "Oh, don't be shy now, Baby. Why don't you tell Chris what I caught you doing, hmm?"

Huffing your cheeks and crossing your arms like a child, you didn't want to give in to Leon's teasing, but you still felt guilty about your own actions. Swallowing your pride, you turned to Chris. "I walked into the wrong shower by accident, and I may have... been staring... I'm sorry." Your face was flushed with shame as your eyes met his brown ones.

The steam of the shower station partially obscured your view of Chris, so you could only see the contours of his pecs and broad shoulders. The patchy brown hair clung to his chest, emphasizing his thick muscles and wide shoulders. He was built like a linebacker and every inch of him screamed strength. "Now, why would you be doing that?" he asked with amusement in his voice, well aware that you were examining him.

"I... I don't know," you chewed your cheek nervously. "Look, it was a mistake. Let me just get out of here to the women's room. I'll shower, and we can head home."

"No need for that, you're already here," Leon offered, clicking the lock into place on the door. "See? It's just me and Chris. You won't have to worry about anyone else coming in." Leon walked past you, shedding the last of his own clothing before taking a stall and turning the water on.

Chris shrugged. "Leon's right. You might as well stay. Besides, you wouldn't want to worry about any potential wandering eyes," he teased, letting out a chuckle that made your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

"Shut up! You know, I caught the two of you gawking at me out there too!" you retorted.

"Did we now?" Leon shouted over at you, and you could swear you heard him laugh under the shower. "Because I certainly don't remember that."

"Me either," Chris added, crossing his arms. "I only remember observing you for your own safety."

Not wanting your pride to be chipped away any further, you huffed, ending the conversation and walking over to the farthest stall possible to take your own shower. You knew that they wouldn't immediately see your unclothed form due to the distance and steam.

Turning on the shower and stepping inside, you relished the feeling of the hot water hitting your skin, washing away the sweat and easing the tension in your muscles. Closing your eyes, you did your best to just focus on the relaxation of the shower. However, images of the two men kept flooding your mind. The heat in your core never fully went away, but would come back in waves each time you pictured one of them … or both of them. As you ran a hand down your own body, you stopped just a moment to tweak at your budding nipple quietly hissing in pleasure before working your hand lower and lower, until your fingers were between your legs rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves there.

Each twitch of pleasure had you biting your lip to stay quiet as you desperately worked at yourself. Normally you were one for a much slower build of pleasure, but all you wanted right now was relief so you could finish your shower in peace, get dressed, and head home. Despite your internal prayers, you weren’t seeming to get any closer to your peak, taking far longer than expected. Unbeknownst to you as well, the men had started to worry in your silence and the extended length of your shower.

“Oh.” You heard, eyes snapping open to see Leon and Chris standing before you, both having towels wrapped around their hips. If you had been embarrassed before, you were downright humiliated now.

“We were just coming to check on you. You’d been in there a while.” Chris said, breaking the tension.

“Guess now we know why.” Leon added, amused. “Bet you were thinking about us too, weren’t you Princess? Staring wasn’t good enough, was it? You looked pretty desperate, pawing at that little pussy like you’d die if you didn’t cum.”

The sound of Leon's words had left you stunned, unable to move as a wave of desire rushed through your body. His vulgar words destroyed any resistance you had almost instantly, and any response felt trapped in your throat.

“I’ll take that silence as agreement then.” Leon chuckled. “Poor thing, looks like you weren’t even getting anywhere. Guess we better help, so we can get you home.” Leon moved past you, dropping the towel from his waist before pulling you down to sit on his thigh, while he seated himself on the little bench inside the shower.

The second your bare pussy made contact with his leg, you let out an involuntary mewl, pleasure jolting through you slightly. He had you facing away from him, putting his hands on your hips to help glide your slick cunt over the muscle of his toned thigh. The most pathetic noises left your lips as he did so.

“Shit, I think you were right Leon, so desperate.” Chris said, ditching his own towel to enter the shower stall and kneeling in front of you. He cupped your face between both hands. “Be honest, you were thinking about us, weren’t you, pretty girl?”

“Y-yes.” You admitted with a choked whine, hands coming forward to get purchase on Chris’ shoulders as Leon jostled his leg purposefully, sending an added spark of pleasure to your clit.

“What did you imagine sweetheart? Were we taking turns fucking you, passing you back and forth until we were done, or did we pleasure you together?” Chris let go of your face to move his hands down to your chest, using his thumbs to rub circles over your puckered nipples making you whimper.

Leon stopped all of his movements and held you in place. “He asked a question, Princess”, he said softly as he peppered your back with sweet kisses.

“T-together.” You managed to get out. As a reward for your honesty, Leon resumed helping you grind down onto his thigh while Chris worked your breasts before capturing your lips with his own in a tantalizing kiss. The taste of his tongue made you dizzy, and your hips tried to go beyond the speed Leon had set.

"That's right," Leon said, his voice low and deep as he removed his hand so you could go at your own pace. "Do whatever you need Baby." His thigh felt like a blissful cushion beneath your heated folds and Chris' kisses had you hot and hazy.

Chris' thumb circled one nipple as his other hand squeezed and massaged the swollen mound. Without warning he pinched down on one of the the sensitive nubs, sending waves of electric heat straight to the core of your body. You were surprised at how good everything felt, already so much closer than you had been using your fingers, and the two had barely done much to you. "Gonna cum." You mumbled into Chris' mouth.

"Go on baby." Chris encouraged. It didn't take long before you felt that familiar rush of pleasure darting from your core all throughout your body, making even your fingers and toes tingle.

They held you steady for a little bit giving you the chance to come down from your high and catch your breath. By now you could feel the hot length of Leon's hardened cock resting against you, and even with half your brain gone you knew Chris was likely in the same predicament.

"Look at you so beautiful right after you cum." Chris cooed, tilting your head up to look at him. "Think you can help us out in return sweetie?"

"Mhm." You nodded lazily. Chris coaxed you up from your spot on Leon's lap and readjusted you, so you were bent down face to face with Leon's cock, ass up for Chris.

"My turn to see that beautiful face." Leon smiled, stroking himself a couple of times. You watched as the tip leaked a few beads of pearly precum and darted your tongue out to lap at it. He hissed in pleasure before rubbing the head against your lips. "Shit baby, so eager already." Your tongue played with the head for a bit more before taking him into your mouth. You began to bob your head, sucking with increasing speed until you felt hands fisting your hair. "That's right baby, take it all."

You felt Chris move finally, dragging his own cock down the length of your slit to gather some slick. "I'm gonna put it in, ok?" You couldn't respond, but gripped Leon's thighs tightly, feeling the head beginning to build in your core again.

As he sunk himself into your pussy until he was bottomed out, you couldn't help but nearly choke down on the cock in your mouth. "Fuck you're tight, relax baby, you don't need to push me out. Gonna make you feel so fucking good." Chris said, kneading at your ass while he stopped to let you adjust.

Drool was pooling around the base of Leon's cock as you moaned around it. "God you look so beautiful like that." Leon said, wiping some spittle away with his thumb. "So fucking pretty with my cock down your throat, what a good girl taking me all the way." His words made your dripping cunt clench around Chris.

"With the way you were looking at us earlier I'm not surprised, your little pussy likes it when you're taking two cocks at the same time." Chris said, sliding himself back out and slamming back in to the hilt, making you moan around Leon's length. He pulled back out until only the tip was left before pushing in again.

You were doing your best to focus on moving your head up and down to pleasure the man in front of you, but it was hard getting your brain to focus when you were getting railed from behind.

Leon chuckled. "I think our Princess has been rendered a little too dumb to keep up. That's ok baby, just let me use that tight little throat of yours, you just relax." He said, tightening his grip on your hair bucking his hips up to fuck the tip of his cock farther down your throat before pulling you up to let you breath. "Such a good baby, taking me so well, choking on my cock." Leon praised as he pulled you back down taking in each gagged noise you made as he bucked back into your mouth.

"You like getting fucked like this baby?" Chris asked, picking up the pace, balls smacking against your clit with each movement.

"Mff!" You responded with eyes unfocused as your nose was buried in the wiry hair on Leon's pelvis.

Chris grunted, thrusts becoming slower but harder. It wasn't long before you felt him twitch inside of you, filling you up with his hot cum. "Fuck baby." When he pulled his softening cock out, he used two fingers to scoop up some of the leaking cum, rubbing it against your clit just enough to stimulate you, but not enough to get you across the finish line. "You wanna finish her off?" Chris asked, looking at Leon.

In response, Leon popped you off of his own cock. "Want me to fuck his cum right out of you baby?" He asked, pulling you up so he could kiss your swollen lips and the tears streaming down your cheeks. You nodded, scooting to sit back onto his lap, sinking down onto his cock. Between your own spit, wetness, and the cum spilling out there was no resistance. You gripped Leon's shoulders for support, and he held you by your hips helping you bounce.

"That's it baby, come on." Leon was already close from your throat and it took nearly all his willpower to not cream the second you sank down on him. "Doing so well, cum for me baby." He cooed as he used his grip on your hips to speed up your movements.

You were so close yourself that his words sent you over the edge, clamping down around him, legs shaking as you whined. "Oh, fuck." He said as his own orgasm ripped through him, finishing inside of you.

You flopped forward into his arms, exhausted. He rubbed your back softly while he came down from his own peak. "Such a good girl, took us both so well."

You shifted uneasily on his lap, your muscles aching from the sudden love-making and your earlier workout. Your legs were beginning to feel cramped and uncomfortable.

“Here baby, stretch out for me.” Chris said, helping you sit beside Leon. He wiped you down gently with your wash rag to clean you up, before he used his large hands to work the knots out of the muscles of your thighs, moving down your legs. It caused a dull ache at first before the pain disappeared completely, leaving you with jellied limbs. Your whole body felt heavy and your head was in and out of a relaxed twilight state.

You yawned, rubbing your eyes, entirely exhausted. The two men gently propped you up, as they assisted you into your clean clothes. As you waited for them to finish cleaning and changing into their garments, you absentmindedly used your gym bag as a pillow and dozed off until you felt someone picking you up.

The shifting of gravity caused your eyes to open again in a small panic. “It’s ok, I’ve got you.” Chris said softly. “Just taking you back to the Jeep so we can get you home and to bed.”

The slight breeze from the nighttime air felt nice against your skin as you were carried outside and buckled into your seat. Leon sat next to you, letting you lean against him while he gently played with your hair as Chris took up the driver’s seat. “What do you think Princess, wanna come to the gym more often with us now?” Leon asked softly.

“Mhm.” You answered, closing your eyes again, drifting off to sleep at the sound of the ignition starting.

#Leon Kennedy x Reader #Chris Redfield x Reader #Leon Kennedy x You #Chris Redfield x You #Chris Redfield #Leon Kennedy #Leon S Kennedy #Resident Evil #Resident Evil Fanfiction #RE4R #Reader Insert #Fanfiction #Leon Kennedy x Y/N #Chris Redfield x Y/N #Chris & Leon x Reader #Resident Evil Vendetta #Resident Evil 6

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christinesficrecs · 5 months

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I had a request for newer fics, so here you go! Also, some other recent fics were posted here.

They’re all together ooky, the Hale family… (Snap, Snap) by DropsOfAddiction | 12.4K | Explicit

Derek realises that he’s probably squashing Stiles a little bit, right at the same moment that Stiles apparently realises that he’s still holding onto Derek’s face.

They both definitely acknowledge Derek’s nakedness at the same exact time, judging by the alarmed look on Stiles’ face.

“So, you have no clothes on,” Stiles removes his hands and holds them above his head in surrender, cheeks a muddy red.

“In my defence, I was covered in fur less than two minutes ago,” Derek rolls his eyes and he pushes himself up and off him, hands covering his junk for Stiles’ sake.

“You’re still kind of furry now…” Stiles sits up, blinking rapidly, clearly just as weirded out as Derek. “Oh my god, pretend I didn’t say that. I’m not looking or anything.”

Derek smirks, because that… that was a lie and he cocks an eyebrow at him.

as dear as a brother by endversed | 10.3K | Explicit

“You are not allowed to sleep with him,” Scott says.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Stiles scoffs.

Stiles and Scott become best friends at college. Derek is Scott's hot older brother.

Take Me Away From Here by Hedwig221b | 33.5K | Explicit

Derek Hale looked terrifying. With his broad frame and muscles, with his wild black hair and thick beard, with his eyes the color of blood and fangs of a killer. Despite his kindness and his apparent attraction to Stiles, he was still a stranger, a predator, a wolf.

The thing is, Stiles would deal, but others might not. People found Lord Hale horrid, monstrous and unapproachable.

If Stiles stood behind him, no one would touch him.

He’d be safe with the wolf. If not from him, then definitely from everyone else. And that was enough.

Messily Ever After by KaliopeShipsIt | 20.3K

When Stiles and his blue slushie have a literal and quite splashy run-in with an adorable five-year old flower girl and her panicking daddy in the middle of the mall, the last thing he expects is to get a date to a stranger's wedding out of it.

Let alone, a boyfriend and a kid.

His Accidental Touch by Hidden_Orchard | 12.8K | Explicit

It happened accidentally, the first time. All the many and varied times afterwards, Stiles would hold his hands up and admit full responsibility for. But that first time – pure chance.

Derek needs a cuddle. Stiles - generous man that he is - would never deny Derek something he needs.

An Alpha's Misunderstandings by Dexterous_Sinistrous | 48.5K | Mature

And Derek was there, as if it was a simple twist of fate.

There were so many ways Stiles wanted to forgive Derek, but then he came to his senses.

He wouldn’t risk Charlotte’s safety for that hope–never again. ~*~ Stiles and Derek are parted by war and misunderstandings, only to find each other again.

Red, Red, Red by loserchildhotpants | 9.4K | Explicit

“Just… it’s weird, I’ve been - uh. You ever, like, dream of something? Something you’ve never seen before, but then you see it out in the world?”

everywhere, everything (every day) by nerdy-stilinski (Captain_Ameriyeah), S3anchaidh | 14.3K

Derek’s never been the best at making decisions. That’s how he keeps waking up with Stiles in his arms, but never under the right circumstances.

Or: Derek agrees to a pack vacation and instantly regrets it.

Matchmaking in Fandom by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella) | 13K

It wasn’t like it was a secret that the showrunners made terrible decisions when it came to their own show, so why he’d had actual faith in them not fucking the movie up, he had no idea. Really, it was his own fault.

He hadn’t even set the bar high for the movie! The bar was so incredibly low, like mid-shin height, and they somehow managed to get it subterranean. That was talent. A bad talent, but still a talent.

if i'm not made for you, then why does my heart tell me that i am? by EvanesDust | 13K

When Derek’s kids write out their Christmas lists, they insist he writes one too. Not long after it's deposited in Santa's mailbox, he's reunited with the man of his dreams.

Stiles.

Derek can't help but fall for him again. It's really too bad Stiles is so obviously taken.

...or the one where Derek’s a grump who makes assumptions about his pregnant omega neighbor.

#sterek #sterek fics #ficrecs #fic rec friday

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fruitmins · 7 months

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Agust Dad—Five

➭ summary: Your a producer from another company that he happened to be collaborating with on his 2nd album D-2. At the release party— one drunk action leads to another, you do the worst thing you can do in the industry and change your fate forever.

➭genre: short series, pregnancy au, idol au, angst, dad au

➭warnings: nothing really, mention of throw up, twitter

note: the calm before the storm :)

Taglist: @welcometomyworld13 @tatyhend @jiminiesunicorn @littlestarstinyseven @baechugff @thelilbutifulthings @tearykth @familiarlikemymirror3 @coree730 @prajusstuff @wobblewobble822 @choisoorin @manuosorioh @0funsite0 @whipwhoops @bergandysam @aloverga @illnevertrustmyselfagain @silentreadersthings @butterymin @girl-nahh @linneasblog @cuntessaiii @nikkiordonez12 @chl0buggy @serendididy @llallaaa @ghostlyworld @roguesthetic

Hello, This is Bighit Music…

It only had been forty eight hours later when the statement comes out on twitter. Like Yoongi had said, there’s no mention of a name. Just that Yoongi had been in a two year relationship (which is a lie) and now had a baby on the way.

ARMY were expected to give Yoongi the time he needed to spend with his girlfriend and respect his privacy.

And in response, most of his fans threatened to track you down for taking away their precious Suga. Others suspected that the company was lying (which they aren’t wrong) and others were supportive of him. Then there were the rumors about who it could be while guessing it was just a girl who was a gold digger and/or he had gotten baby trapped.

You don’t know if it’s because of the hormones and morning sickness, but the whole thing made you sick. You felt terrible. It had finally hit you that you've lost everything — your job, your relationship with your coworkers, and sooner or later your reputation. The guilt and regret set in deeply as you think back to the moment when you made the decision to have sex with Yoongi.

It all seemed so magical back then, so carefree. But that's long gone now, replaced with sadness and fear for the future.

You're not even showing yet, but even still you can't bring yourself to get out of bed. It doesn't seem like anything is worth that effort. You have absolutely no one and nothing but a trashcan that catches all of your throw up.

The only thing that coaxes you out of your bed and depressive trance is a loud knock on your door. Your stomach grows queasy as you recognize the sound, but you know you can't ignore the problem. Because you knew who the problem was.

Groaning, you eventually drag yourself out of bed, your vision swimming as you step out into the hallway.

This time, you don’t even check the peephole. You don’t have the energy to be act surprised, cause at this point, you’re not.

Yoongi.

He stands in the doorway, looking concerned. His eyes are drawn to the small pudge on your belly, and the look he gives you is full of pity. He isn’t dressed in his usual fancy black blazer or a suit. He’s dressed casually, with a plaid oversized shirt and nice slightly baggy jeans.

You said you weren’t surprised but Yoongi does the honor of proving your wrong.

"How are you feeling?" he asks softly but then he takes his eyes off of your stomach and looks at your face.

Your hair isn’t brushed and messy from laying in your bed all day, you’re certain there is throw up on the corners of your mouth and undoubtedly you smell terrible. Not to mention your red face and puffy eyes.

You watch him analyze your horrible state and get his answer before you can even say anything. It’s not like he had the strength to answer him anyways.

Then his eyes shift to your hand and that’s when you notice that you had your phone in your hand, twitter visibly open with the trending hashtag #yoongi on the screen.

“If it helps, I don’t like anything they’re saying either.” He mumbles and you see the disappointment clear on his face.

You just quickly shut your phone off and put it in your back pocket and before you can speak or say a proper greeting you notice for the first time that he’s holding a bag of groceries in his arms.

You point to the bag in his arms with a confused expression. “What’s that for?”

“Oh, for you.” He says quickly, and you see him about to hand over the bag to you but then takes a look at your stomach and quickly changes his mind. You try not to think too hard about how caring he seemed. You have to remind yourself that he’s just doing the bare minimum.

Yoongi’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “I figured you’d be looking at the media and probably hadn’t eaten today, and you don't have a job anymore, so....” is all he says, his voice trailing off and you can’t help but notice the slight hint of guilt at the end of his sentence.

“It’s not much but, it’s important for you to eat.” He mumbles and you realize how incredibly dangerous it was for him to be out while he is trending. He went out of his way to get some things and risk being caught or questioned by his company, to make sure you ate.

You realize how much of a jerk you seem for just leaving him outside in the porch, especially when he can be seen. You step back from the door and shuffle to the side so he can step inside, muttering a ’thank you’ as he came in.

He follows you into the kitchen, where you busy yourself with putting away the groceries, trying to fight the butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes widen even more as you start to take out items from the bag.

It’s newer ingredients and kitchen supplies that look like they haven’t been touched. You start to realize the oddly specific ingredients and combinations in the bag.

In the silence, Yoongi studies your back, the small bump visible through your shirt before jumping up when you pull out a knife from the bag.

“I was gonna make you something!” He says quickly, and suddenly he is next to you, holding your hand as he uses the other to slowly glides the knife out of your hands. “If that’s alright with you.” He says more calmly and softly when it is out of your grasp.

You glance up at him, your heart beating as you realize how close he’s standing next to you. How gentle he was being with you. “Yes, of course—“ you start to respond in a quiet voice when Yoongi’s ringer goes off.

He takes out his vibrating phone from his pocket and you get a glimpse of the user ID.

‘Bang PD’

He quickly glances at you and you realize how busy Yoongi must be now. How much he has to deal with and talk about. Yet he was here. With you. You don’t know if you should feel guilty and thankful for the fact.

To your surprise, Yoongi doesn’t just ignore the call. He declines it. Your eyes widen as you look away from the phone and up at him. “What are you doing?” You ask him with concern.

“It’s not important.” He says while powering his phone completely off and shutting it down and before you can question it he speaks again. “I don’t need it right now. And you don’t need yours either.” He states, raising an eyebrow as he held out his hand.

You pause for a moment, just looking down at his hand as he waited for you to give him your phone. You don’t have the strength to fight him on it, and you know that in the end it was probably for the best.

You slowly take out your hand from your back pocket and hand it to him. You watch him do something on your phone before shutting it down completely and putting it in his pocket.

You take a seat as he starts to get out the rest of the ingredients and start to prepare to cook the meal which he tells you that it’s going to be some chicken noodle soup.

You sit on a stool on the kitchen island, trying not to gag or throw up at all the smells of food and ingredients, but your stomach rumbles at the same time.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He says after a while of moving in silence, which snaps you out of the imaginary world you were sucked into like when he took the paternity test. A world where everything wasn’t a complete mess.

“About what?” You ask in a quiet voice, watching his back as he stirred the broth in a pot that he had brought.

“Well since the media now knows that I have a ‘girlfriend’ and unborn child, I thought it would be best if you moved from this neighborhood.” He explains calmly but cautiously, not bothering to look at you as he spoke.

“Where to..?” You ask in complete shock. You know he has a point, but you has always had a problem with big changes in life. You loved familiarity. And this was the opposite. It was unexpected and random.

"I have a place for you to stay." Yoongi says, his voice firm but he stays completely calm at the same time. "A house in Gangnam that I don’t use."

You stiffen at his words, but you know that if you said no, it might push him away. You can't afford to be stubborn with him. You had no idea what he would do next.

"It'll be safer for you there. You'll have everything provided for you. The best doctors, a good home, it’s very secure..." he continues, his gaze locking with yours. "I don't want anything to happen to you or the baby before it's even born."

“You just expect for me to up and move? What about my house? My things? This is crazy.” You say, shaking your head at the idea. Sure, it would be nice to live in a better neighborhood where you felt more safe. But to you, it didn’t seem realistic to just sell everything to live in Yoongi’s paradise.

"Don't worry, I'll sell your house for you and you can use that money to replace anything you've lost in the move. I'll make sure everything is covered, so you don't have to worry." He can see the doubt in your eyes and tries to put your mind at ease.

Yoongi seems genuine, but his words still feel too good to be true. You don't have anyone else to rely on here, so you can't really say no without risking everything.

"I can handle all of it." Yoongi says, his voice becoming more intense as he speaks, more determined. "I'll handle everything. You just need to focus on yourself and the baby, nothing more."

He looks up at you, and you realize that he's serious. This isn't a negotiation. Your heart jumps into your throat as you realize what this means.

"Listen," Yoongi says again, and this time you realize that he's pleading with you. "I know this is asking a lot. And you have no good reason to trust me. But I need you to.”

Your heart starts to pound and flutter as he talks. Your breathing heavy and your eyes wide in shock. He seems genuine, concerned, maybe even a little afraid. You can hear a little voice whisper to you to trust him, and you realize that you kind of don’t have a choice. You’d be stupid to not take his hospitality.

You open your mouth to answer him. To tell him that you’ll move into one of the extra houses he just has lying around, but the doorbell rings before you can speak.

You jump at the sound of the doorbell, and Yoongi looks up as well. “I’ll get it.” You mumble instead, slowly getting up and walking to the door, dismissing the slight concerned look on Yoongi’s face.

You step to the front of the door and lean down to peek through the peephole just in case. Your jaw drops when you immediately recognize who is at your door. You freeze in front of the door, your breath catching in your throat.

The rest of BTS.

Every member of the famous group are at your doorstep.

They look covered up, but to you, it’s clear who they are. But you have no clue why they are here. Or how they even got to your house. Or how they even knew to come here.

As you watch in shock, your mind races. What if this is about the baby? If Si-Hyuk told them about the pregnancy, maybe they know about you too, and they're here to find you.

“Who is it?” Yoongi asks, walking up behind you as you slowly turn to look at him. He looks worried, but also curious.

“It’s BTS..”

“What?” Yoongi says in shock and confusion as you slowly open the door to reveal the six figures at the door.

Yoongi looks over your shoulder, his eyes wide as he watches the BTS members crowd the doorway, his face filled with disbelief and confusion. The members of BTS look just as surprised, shifting uncomfortably on the doorstep when they meet eyes with him.

Your heart pounds in your chest and you're so stunned you only stand there silently, eyes shifting between Yoongi and his group members as they exchange glances.

“What are you all doing here?” Yoongi asked suspiciously but quickly moves backwards so that they can all crowd inside the house so they can’t be seen.

Once the door is closed and everyone is gathered at the entrance, a member finally breaks the silence.

“No hyung, what are you doing here? We have a bunch of things going on and no one can reach you.” Namjoon speaks up, his voice stern but he is clearly worried.

Yoongi glances at you before turning back to them, the muscles in his jaw clenched as his gaze is locked with theirs. “I had to check up on Y/N.” Yoongi says, his face is blank but the muscles in his jaw still clenched.

Some of the members glance at you, as if noticing you were there for the first time even though they were in your house.

Jin shows you a smile, a familiar bright and friendly one despite the tense atmosphere. “Y/N. So good to see you again.” He says and you can’t help but relax your muscles slightly at his upbeat tone.

“Excuse us, where are our manners.” Hobi speaks up, now looking at you as well. “Thank you for letting us in and your house,” he takes a pause to look around his smile flattening slightly. “Is lovely.”

“We really don’t mean to barge in, it’s just that Yoongi here was supposed to meet us at the recording studio, but never showed. We figured he was here..” Jimin explains as you try to wrap your mind around the information and the fact that all of BTS were in your house.

“So, he told you guys everything?” You ask, feeling a little self conscious about everything. And of course you meet all of BTS when you looked your absolute worst.

“He told me everything.” Jin speaks up, slightly proud and with a smirk. “These guys only figured it out a couple days ago.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” Taehyung speaks up with a big foxy smile as he shakes your hand. “I can’t wait to have a little nephew or niece.” He says and you can’t help but flush red. They hadn’t really accepted you already, had they?

“Me too!” Jungkook jumps in and Namjoon sighs and rubs my temple when he sees them start to get off topic. “If there’s anything you need or want you can text me any time.” Jungkook states with a small smile and you can’t help but return it back. A side of you even started to fangirl at the sight of his smile.

“Actually,” Yoongi speaks up and you’re thankful when all of their eyes shift off you. “You can help her move.”

Three more days later after that all of BTS are gathered at your house, helping you move the little things you have to Yoongi’s shelter in Gangnam. Jin’s girlfriend Harin was also there and helped you settle down. Yoongi told you not to worry about the selling process and that the earlier you moved out of the house the better.

You couldn’t help but feel closer to Yoongi durning the whole process. Even if there was a day or two you didn’t see him, he would always make sure to text you.

You realized that what he did before locking your phone was deleting twitter all together and you didn’t have the strength to get it back yet, but overall. You were feeling better. Despite what you originally thought, having Yoongi around seemed to cheer you up.

It was nice to felt cared for, even if he was just caring for the baby and not you yourself.

It was late afternoon when you all got done and everyone headed home, including Yoongi. But what you didn’t know is that he sung by the place later in the night to check on you and make you a snack.

He knocked on the door to the house but when no one answered he did the favor of using his key to open it anyways. He slowly walked into the house, looking around before spotting you on the couch.

You were laid down on the couch, snoring softly and hugging a pillow as you slept. Yoongi glanced up at the tv in the huge living room and couldn’t help but let out a smile when he saw what was on the screen.

An old run BTS episode had been playing, and you must’ve fell asleep while watching.

Yoongi turned off the lights and tiptoed to the bedroom to pull out the blanket and drape it over you.

He studied you for a minute before shaking away some thoughts and leaving the tv on and walking out shortly. Leaving you asleep on the couch like months before.

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blurredcolour · 2 months

Text

II. "Just Had To Trust You."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x WAC!Female Reader

The second half of August brings with it the horrors of the Regensburg/Schweinfurt mission, Bucky's absence in Africa, and two smaller missions in France. With this as the backdrop to your blossoming relationship, the pair of you find creative ways to connect with one another.

Warnings: Language, Alcohol Consumption, Death, Grief, Minor Bucky Injury, Blood, Scars, Minor Reader Injury, Hospital Setting, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes [thigh riding, inexperienced reader, allusion to male masturbation] - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for the warm reception you gave part one. That combined with my evil brain has given us a full series! Just a reminder that reader has been given a brother for sake of plot. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 6713

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

The day of August 17th dawned so thick with fog, it was difficult to tell it had even dawned at all. The walk from your quarters to the mess and then onto the control tower was fraught with anxiety – the fear that a vehicle might suddenly appear behind you through the milky atmosphere driving you to constantly glance back over your shoulder. Eventually, you decided to walk just alongside the road through the damp grass, listening to it squeak against the leather of your shoes, the only sound around you once you parted ways with your friends.

Cutting across the field in front of the equipment hangar, you gasped as Bucky stepped out of the mists in front of you like some kind of apparition from a ghost story. You gulped harshly at the way your stomach dropped in response to that mental imagery.

“Morning, doll. Seems like someone left the soup on the stove a little too long.”

You managed a chuckle, taking in his flight suit, his life jacket – or Mae West as the boys called them. He was flying today then. “I’m sure it’ll clear up soon, Major Egan.”

His lips twitched fondly, and he stepped closer to murmur in your ear, the fine hairs of his moustache tickling the delicate skin there. “See you in a few days, doll.”

“Take care, Bucky.” You whispered emphatically in return, and he stepped back to reach into his flight bag, producing the book you had lent him.

“I’ll have that answer for you promptly on my return, Lieutenant.”

You grinned softly. “I expect you will, Major.”

You turned to watch him go as he took long, easy strides to join his crew waiting on the truck to be driven out to their plane, disappearing in a swirl of persistent, pervasive fog. “I’ll see you soon.” You murmured after him.

Seven days.

Seven agonizing days of little news and empty skies passed as you impatiently awaited his return. The decision to send the group destined for Regensburg nearly five hours ahead of those bound for Schweinfurt had been catastrophic. It took almost seventy-two hours for the 12th to reach those who had made it to Telergma, and when numbers and names finally made their way back to Thorpe Abbotts, the cost of it all sunk in like a stone.

Rather than wasting the return trip to East Anglia, it was decided the survivors would undertake a retaliatory strike against some Luftwaffe bases in Bordeaux, one more hurdle to clear before they made it back to safety. It was mid-afternoon on August 24th by the time the droning of plane engines filled the air once again. Taking a steadying breath, you grit your teeth and forced yourself to focus on the keys of your typewriter as the brass all hustled outside to count the number of returnees.

‘Please let Bucky be among them. Please let him be unharmed.’ You had closed your eyes briefly to send up your silent prayer before launching back into your work.

It was nearly an hour later when, report finished, you tucked the neatly typed sheets of paper into their folder to deliver to Colonel Harding and stood only to meet the eyes of one Major John Egan through the window overlooking the Operations Room. He looked weary, sunburnt, with cuts and abrasions adorning his face and neck, unsteady on his feet, but nevertheless flashed you a brilliant, devil-may-care smile.

‘Thank you…thank you for bringing him back to me.’

You exhaled deeply for the first time in over a week, the folder nearly slipping from your fingers, contents nearly scattering across the floor. Mercifully, you managed to avoid that outcome, albeit with a fair bit of fumbling, tucking it securely against your side to prevent further mishaps. The next time you looked to Bucky he was smirking at you, eyes twinkling knowingly, before he gestured with his head toward where the washrooms were. Glancing at your colleagues, heads bent diligently over their work, you looked back to him and raised a finger to beg for one moment.

He nodded in silent understanding, sauntering toward the hallway casually. You took a moment before letting your desk mate know you were delivering a file and then taking a bathroom break. She nodded vaguely as you headed across the room to place the folder in the outbox before making your way to the washrooms. Furrowing your brows in confusion as you found the corridor empty, you barely managed to smother your startled cry as Bucky poked his head out of the janitor’s closet and pulled you into the cramped space with him.

“Bucky!” You hissed as he pressed you back against the door, his lips pressing tightly against yours, silencing any further admonishment you might have been able to summon.

Clinging the to straps of his harness, you rocked up onto the balls of your feet, pressing flush against him, a wordless expression of the gratitude you felt for his safe return. He had barely parted his lips when you mirrored the movement, welcoming his tongue with your own. A soft grunt of pleasure left his nose, his fingers digging into your hips tightly. The telltale tinge of copper seeped into the kiss, making you pull back sharply, groping for the pull string on the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling behind him.

You frowned deeply to see his lower lip was oozing blood. “You should go to the hospital, Bucky, you’re still bleeding…”

“M’fine.” He rumbled tiredly, cupping the back of your head gently as his thumb traced your left eyebrow.

You sighed softly, leaning into his touch as your eyes slid closed.

“My definitive answer is Blood Pressure.” He spoke in a hushed tone and your eyes fluttered open in confusion.

“What?”

His other hand left your hip to dig into the pocket of his flight jacket, producing the borrowed book, holding it out to you with a satisfied grin.

“You’ve already read the whole thing again?!” You gasped, eyes wide.

“Couldn’t very well keep you waiting now, could I?” He smirked and stole another kiss.

“I’m going back to my desk and you’re going to the hospital, please?” You looked to him pleadingly.

He sighed heavily. “That look is utterly unfair, doll…particularly in my condition.”

Your lips twitched slightly as you fought the urge to smile, doing your utmost to hold the plaintive expression until he huffed and pressed one last, copper-laced, sloppy kiss on your lips.

“Fine.” He conceded and you pressed your lips to his forehead tenderly.

“Thank you, Bucky.”

Slipping from his arms reluctantly, you peered out into the hallway before making a dash into the washroom, cleaning your face of his blood and tidying your hair and uniform before rushing back to your desk, hoping he would hold up his end of the bargain.

Judging from how well he healed over the next few days, you were fairly convinced he had done as you asked. His lips had healed to their normal supple perfection, though it seemed he would be left with a few scars across his nose, cheek, and forehead. Unfortunately, you had not been able to sneak a moment to confirm if he had indeed gone to visit the hospital or not. When your duties did not occupy you, it seemed that his did and vice versa. Passing glances or encounters while surrounded by colleagues seemed to be all the fates afforded you the rest of the week.

The effect it had on your mood was something that did not escape Mary, Vi, and Ruth – for despite your best efforts to conceal your activities, they had been onto you since you had returned from that eventful trip to the pub.

“We’ll just have to make sure you’re simply irresistible at tonight’s dance, then.” Mary grinned darkly upon your return to your shared quarters that Friday, a dangerous gleam in her eye as she closed in on you with Vi at her elbow.

“Oh yes, Mary, a little feminine revenge ought to remind the Major of his priorities.” She drawled, arms suddenly loaded with supplies – from where they had appeared, you were not entirely sure.

You landed heavily on your bottom upon your cot, staring up at them warily as Ruth laughed from her perch across the way.

“Just give in, darling, it’ll be less painful that way.” Came her friendly advice, though her words did not prove at all true.

There was next to no consideration for your comfort while your hair was combed and restyled, hisses of pain escaping your lips as a plethora of pins scraped along your scalp as they were pushed into place to secure the style they were creating.

“Beauty is pain, darling.” Vi pursed her lips in mock sympathy, but you were altogether relieved when they declared their creation stable and moved onto your makeup.

Somehow, despite their dedication to perfecting your look for the evening, and then freshening up a little themselves, the four of you still managed to arrive at the officer’s club before Bucky and many of the men. Securing a martini and your favorite spot along the wall, you forcefully shooed them off to dance with the early arrivals who quickly approached them. You glass was roughly a third empty when Bucky arrived with his best friend Buck and their tight knit group. All eyes turned toward him, as always, that infectious grin and magnetism making him ever popular.

Now that he had arrived, the party would truly begin. Taking a deep sip of your drink, you nearly choked as his eyes met yours and he made a beeline straight for you. Swallowing roughly, your eyes widened as he plucked the glass from your grasp to set it on a nearby table before holding out his hand to you expectantly.

“I’m not very good at this…” You warned him softly, voice a bit thick from your battle to swallow your drink.

“All you gotta do is hold on, doll, I’ll do the rest.” He winked and wrapped his fingers around yours once you finally set your hand in his.

Leading you onto the dancefloor, he pulled you close, one hand at your waist, the other holding yours out to the side. Bucky grinned at you warmly as he began to lead you across the floor confidently, and you clung to his shoulder, feeling the eyes of almost everyone on you. His actions were so public in contrast to the moments you had shared previously. So very declarative. It took a lot of strength not to hide against his shoulder from all the attention the pair of you were receiving. Even your friends were shooting you grins and nods and little victory signals from behind him.

“You got all dolled up tonight, is there a mission I should know about?” He teased gently, immediately pulling you from your thoughts.

“I was ambushed.” You huffed ruefully.

“Ah, so this mission has already been carried out.” Bucky smirked, lips stretching wider as you laughed softly, relaxing somewhat in his arms as he continued to lead you confidently. “You look gorgeous…can’t wait to get that lipstick all over my face again.” He hummed against your ear, and you smacked his shoulder playfully even as your pulse jumped at your throat, feeling his laughter shake through him.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, Kidd thought it was the perfect moment to launch into an excruciating meeting about…well I wasn’t listening, quite honestly.” He smirked, making you shake your head fondly.

“You ought to listen to the man, he is your Air Exec you know…” You teased gently.

He hummed thoughtfully before shaking his head. “I was too busy thinking about how I’d rather be doing this, right here, right now, with you.”

You met his eyes briefly, startled by the transparency of his statement, before glancing away, teeth buried in your lip in a vain attempt to moderate your rapid heartbeat.

Bucky kept you on the dancefloor for at least five more songs, until your feet started to hurt, your legs getting heavy. “Let’s get you another drink.” He kissed your temple and slid his arm around your waist, leading you to the bar. He ordered a whisky for himself and another martini for you, finding a table in the corner and sitting in the chair right beside you. “For someone who claimed to be not very good at dancing, you held your own, doll.”

You smiled at him shyly. “Just had to trust you.” His resulting grin made you bow your head in response to its brilliance, shivering as his hand squeezed your knee beneath the shelter of the tablecloth.

Taking a steadying sip of your drink, you glanced at him through your lashes, biting your lip at his eyes had never left you, his fingers tightening where they still rested over your skirt. You glanced to the side, suddenly afraid you might forget how to breathe under the intensity of his gaze, sucking in a somewhat ragged breath as you watched another couple canoodling in the opposite corner of the room. There was nothing subtle about the way they were pressed against one another, despite the very public place in which they found themselves, and you averted your gaze yet again to watch the bartender mixing drinks as you sipped yours steadily.

The resulting loosening of your muscles as the alcohol reached your extremities gave you the courage to look in Bucky’s direction once more, taking in his profile as he eyed the dancefloor, toe tapping to the beat. His arm was slung over the back of your chair, an action you had no memory of, and he was slouched low in his seat, legs spread wide. His posture was altogether too inviting, and had you gnawing on your lip once more, yet unable to tear your eyes away despite the alarm bells ringing inside your head.

“See something you like, doll?” Bucky’s voice in your ear made you jump. Made you wonder when he had closed the distance.

You hoped, briefly, that the Luftwaffe might indulge you by dropping a bomb directly on your head right then. No such luck. Bucky’s hand slid higher on your leg to squeeze your thigh, forcing you to raise your gaze to meet his. His normally stormy blue eyes were notably darker, pinning you to the spot as his tongue darted out to wet his slightly parted lips.

“Come on.” He spoke suddenly, sliding to his feet and holding out his hand again.

Following him back to the dancefloor, you gasped audibly as he pulled you improperly close, his hand splaying against your lower back as his cheek pressed against yours. “After this song, meet me at our bench. I’ll be five minutes behind you.” His lips brushed against your skin as he spoke, making your feet clumsy.

Bucky simply pulled you closer in response, bearing more of your weight to keep you dancing smoothly as you somehow managed a nod in agreement, heart hammering in your ears. There was no mission tomorrow, the control tower would be relatively quiet, and therefore so would the bench outback where you had shared your conversation about Runyon’s book. As the band wound down their tune, Bucky shuffled the pair of you to the edge of the floor, kissing your cheek softly.

“Goodnight, doll.”

You exhaled shakily, nodding as you mentally reached down to the bottom of your toes to summon your voice. “Night, Bucky.”

He gave you a crooked smile and one more kiss on the cheek before releasing you gently, watching patiently as you lurched into motion, heading toward the door and out into the relatively cooler night air. Making your way along the road, you swallowed back a curse as your eyes met those of your Captain who was standing watch over the route to the women’s quarters.

“Evening, Ma’am.” You saluted quickly.

“Lieutenant.” Captain Miller nodded crisply watching you continue on before you cut around behind the barracks and circled back toward the control tower to meet Bucky.

Due to the necessitated detour, he was already there, waiting, hands on his hips, shoulders slightly raised with tension. You frowned guiltily and crept up to gently set a hand on his arm, feeling him jump.

“Sorry, I had to appease the dragon-lady, she saw me leave and I–”

He nodded once before kissing you fiercely, making you sigh heavily against his lips. Sliding your arms around his neck, you allowed your fingertips to brush against the curls at the nape of his neck. His chest rumbled happily, his tongue tasting so sharply of whisky as it slid along yours that you wondered if he had taken those five extra minutes to have one more drink before following you.

“Thought you’d changed your mind, doll.” He grinned against your lips before he began to nibble along your jaw, sending ripples of gooseflesh down your neck.

“Uh-uh.” You breathed, gripping the skin of his neck as your knees felt about ready to give out.

“Just hold on tight.” He tilted his head to suck at your earlobe, gripping your hips as he slowly sank down to sit on the bench behind him, pulling you with him.

His hands slid further down your legs, guiding them apart to straddle his thigh, pushing your skirt higher to allow you to settle snuggly against his broad quadricep. Your jaw dropped open as your core pressed tightly against him, a mortifying squeak-like sound escaping your throat.

“Yeah?” He smirked, kissing back towards your lips. “Figured by the way you were staring you might want to give it a whirl.”

If you had been able to speak, his mouth would have swallowed any reply that you could have summoned as it sealed tightly over yours once more. As it was, you brain was filled with static like a wireless that could not quite be tuned to a frequency. Your predicament only worsened as his fingers curled into your hips, ever so slowly rocking them forward against him, making you whimper raggedly. The sensation was only outdone by the feeling of him dragging you backward, the friction causing an unspeakable reaction to roll through your body.

“That feel good, doll?” Bucky rasped against your lips, and you nodded rapidly, mewling as he repeated the motion, though you also began to move of your own volition, chasing the feeling needily. “Sorry, didn’t quite catch that.” He teased and you tugged at the hair peaking out the back of his cap.

“Yes!” You gasped sharply before kissing him hungrily, your leg accidentally brushing against the bulge at the apex of his thighs, shuddering at the groan you earned from him in kind.

Perhaps it made you a wicked woman to take satisfaction in giving him pleasure, but it went to your head faster than any martini you had ever consumed. Digging the toes of your shoes into the grass, you shuffled closer to him so your thigh might brush against his length with each of your self-serving motions.

“Christ, doll.” He growled under his breath.

“Feel…good?” You panted teasingly, biting your lip at his ragged laugh.

“People underestimate you at their own goddamn peril.” He nipped at your chin, breath fanning hotly down your neck as you worked your body against his thigh with increasing need. “Try…this…” He grunted and tilted your pelvis forward.

You slumped forward against his chest, mouth gaping in a silent moan at the intense pleasure radiating from the new point of pressure. Legs nearly giving out from the blinding power of it, you were immensely grateful when Bucky obligingly kept on guiding your hips, continuing to pull the strings of tension tighter and tighter within your body.

“B…Bucky…” You gasped against his neck as your thighs began to tremble, on the precipice of something, wondering if this is what it felt like just before a B17 lifted off the runway.

“Go on, doll, it’s gonna be great.” He rumbled, pace not slackening, though his arms must have surely been aching by that point.

Inhaling sharply, you pressed your face tighter to his neck, desperately trying to smother your cry of pleasure as every string of tension snapped inside you with the force and brilliance of a fireworks display on the fourth of July. Melting against him, you were naught but a shuddering mess, underwear ruined, struggling to satisfy your body’s demand for oxygen as you gasped for breath. Bucky’s grip eased on your hips, his hands shifting to caress your back tenderly as he kissed down your temple to your cheek.

“As promised?” He cooed and you shivered at the feeling of his breath against your skin, every sensation still heightened.

“Better.” You licked your lips and dropped your hands to his chest, slowly pushing yourself up to sit properly, shuddering at the pressure against your still throbbing parts.

“Here, doll.” He carefully lifted you up to swing your legs across his lap carefully. “Take it easy.” He kissed your cheek tenderly, squeezing your side.

You sighed softly, swallowing thickly as you lifted your eyes to his. “People underestimate your sweetness at a great loss to themselves, Bucky.” Cupping his cheek, you guided his mouth to yours to place a gentle, appreciative kiss on his lips.

Feeling the curl of his smile, you could not help but echo the expression, breaking the seal of your mouth against his.

“Our little secret.” He teased, voice still raspy.

Hearing the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path leading up to the control tower, you tensed against him, frowning as you became acutely aware of the persistent problem that remained in his trousers.

“We should go.” He whispered and you nodded quickly.

“Sorry you’re still…” You trailed off, sliding onto oddly unstable legs, grateful for his bracing hands on your hips as he rose to his feet.

“Don’t worry about me, doll, I can take care of myself.” He pressed his lips to your ear after uttering his quiet statement, making you swallow almost painfully as your mouth went dry.

You lost all ability to function for a moment, swept up in the lurid possibilities contained in that simple phrase, before the sound of a door opening cut through the night, and your stupor.

“Night.” You whispered sharply before sprinting off towards the barracks, keeping to the edges of the field and hoping to stay out of sight.

Luck, it seemed, was not on your side, as Captain Miller called your name just a few feet shy of your quarters. You had been so very close. Turning quickly to face her, you scrambled for some excuse as to why you were not on the other side of the door behind you.

“Lieutenant, did you get lost on your way over here?” She arched an eyebrow coldly and you had to remind yourself the mechanics involved in a proper breath.

‘Inhale. Pause. Exhale.’

“No, Ma’am, I just…realized when I got back here that Vi had asked me to be sure she didn’t stay out too late, and that I had left without her.”

Captain Miller’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “And where is your Georgian, troublemaking friend now, hmm?”

The lie had come so naturally, had been so plausible, but now that you were wrapped up in it, it felt like it might just drag you down to the bottom like an anchor.

“I’m here, Captain Miller, Ma’am.” Came a cheery call from further up the path, you friend still cloaked by darkness but by some miracle, arriving just in time to save your hide.

An exhale of annoyance escaped Captain Miller’s nostrils as she whipped back to see Vi, arm linked with Ruth’s, sauntering over to your shared quarters.

“Thank you again, darling, for reminding me to come back on time.” She gave you a tremendous, edging on comical, wink and it was all you could do not to grimace.

You may have been off the hook with Captain Miller, but Vi would surely exact a price for this rescue.

“To bed with you all, then, ladies.” Your Captain grunted and the three of you delivered a set of sharp salutes before ducking into your hut quickly.

“All the gory details, now, darling, or Captain Miller will learn just what you’ve been up to, and I’m certain it’s far from innocent.” Vi grinned wickedly as she dragged you to sit on her cot between herself and Ruth.

You were reticent to share the gory details, wanting to keep the taste of him on your lips, the way it felt to be pressed again him, as just yours. But there was a part of you that revelled in the telling of the simplified, polished version of your encounter on the bench behind the control tower the pair of you called ‘yours.’ And it certainly seemed to satisfy your debt, both Ruth and Vi grinning, crowing in glee by the time you got to Vi’s rescue.

“Our darling dark horse, unexpected champion at taming the rogue Major Egan.”

You scoffed and shook your head shyly. “I doubt that I’ve tamed him, Vi…” You protested but she just smirked with a tilt of her head.

“I’m willing to bet money on that fact, but I suppose time will tell.” She winked dramatically and you just rolled your eyes.

Within four days, Bucky was on his way back to France. The target was an aircraft factory in Rouen near Paris. Of those chosen, you undoubtedly preferred the targets closer to England. The flying time was shorter and thereby so was the period of wondering and waiting. Strategically, you absolutely understood the importance of the targets deep in Germany, but if the Regensburg raid had carried any lessons, it was that those targets were invariably the costliest.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of him before he went up, you retraced your steps, following the same path you had on the morning of the seventeenth, cutting in front of the equipment hangar. The feeling of a leather-clad hand seizing yours and tugging you behind the building had you gasping in surprise before you laid eyes on your target, grinning slightly at your success.

“Morning, doll.” Bucky murmured and kissed you quickly.

You allowed his lips to linger on yours for several seconds before pulling back quickly to glance around, checking if you had been spotted. “Be safe up there, Bucky.” You swallowed and he nodded.

“Think you could wear that lipstick again for me later? It sure looked nice all over my neck.” He smirked broadly as your jaw dropped in response, lifting a hand to smack his shoulder.

“Don’t push your luck.” You chided, wagging a finger playfully, and he laughed brightly in reply, lips meeting your cheek before he strolled over to the waiting crew truck.

You watched him go from your obscured vantage point, waiting until the vehicle had pulled away before you turned to continue on your way to your desk.

“Lieutenant?”

You jumped and turned to see the post clerk, Petty, hurrying towards you with a letter in his hand.

“Letter for you, Ma’am.”

“Thank you very much, Sergeant.” You smiled. “Did you manage to get the boys first?” You asked curiously, and he nodded so quickly you were worried his head might fall right off his shoulders.

“Yes Ma’am, got ‘em at breakfast.” His boyish grin of pride was infectious, tugging at the corners of your mouth, briefly easing the tension that seeped into your bones on mission days.

“Well done, Sergeant. Have a good day!” You returned the quick salute he gave you before he hurried on his way, heavy bag hefted over his shoulder.

Glancing over the envelope you swallowed as it appeared to be written in your father’s handwriting rather than your mother’s – unusual. She was often the one to manage the letter writing and mailing process and he would add a paragraph or two depending on what was happening back home that he thought would be of interest to you. Swallowing down your sense of unease, you slid the envelope into your pocket to focus on the mission. The letter had already taken several weeks to reach you, a few more hours would not make any difference.

Shortly after noon, they were already back; Colonel Harding walking past the office muttering about Major Egan’s displeasure in the weather. It seemed only one plane had been able to drop their bombs, and not even on the primary target. Exhaling deeply to hear confirmation of his return, the ever-present feeling of the envelope in your pocket suddenly took on an immense weight. Claiming an upset stomach, which only garnered a knowing grin from your desk mate, you excused yourself to step out back, wandering to the edge of the field to tear into the flap with somewhat savage impatience. Heart in your throat, your shaking fingers pulled the folded paper from within its confines and your eyes began scanning across the page rapidly, your sense of unease cresting like a tidal wave.

I need you to be very brave for me now, dear girl…

Your father’s words blurred in front of your eyes behind a sudden influx of tears. You did not even need to read the rest of the sentence to know. Perhaps you had known all morning – since Petty had set the envelope in your hand. Your brother was gone. Most likely had been for weeks, for all the time it had taken the news to reach you, across one ocean and then another. An agonized sob clawed its way up your throat, and you quickly pressed a hand over your mouth to smother it, taking off running towards your quarters, trying desperately to keep your grief at bay until you could be alone.

Eyes barely open, running across rough ground, it was no surprise when your foot snagged on some unseen obstacle, wrenching your right ankle and sending your sprawling across the grass and partially onto a pathway. Your right knee dashed against something sharp, your hands flying forward to catch your body, the letter you had been clasping fluttering to the ground beside you. The gravel bit angrily against your palms as it chewed its way into your tender flesh, and you could feel the warm trickle of blood soaking into your ruined right stocking. The shock and pain of your collision with the earth overthrew your ability to control your emotions and a strangled sob of anguish, frustration, and loss flew from your lips.

“God…dammit…” You gasped out, suddenly furious with the universe at large.

You had never known a world without your brother. His existence was a constant you had apparently come to rely on, and now that he had been wrenched from this plane, you were not certain what you could believe in at all. Allowing just a few tears to escape began an unstoppable chain reaction, your shoulders shaking as you remained sprawled across the ground, clenching fistfuls of gravel as you gave into your grief. It was utterly self-indulgent. You were not the first woman to have lost a brother to this ugly war, but he was yours and he was gone.

‘Get. Up.’ The lone, rational part of your brain chided. ‘Your father needs you to be brave. You’re making a goddamn scene. Get. Up. You petulant child. What if someone sees you.’

Like some kind of prophecy, you heard the quizzical call of your name. You could only hope the owner of that voice was still far enough away for you to make your escape. Sniffling sharply, almost painfully, to try and stem the flow of tears, you tried desperately to struggle to your feet. Your knee throbbed in protest, your ankle wobbling unsteadily, your palms stung in pain, and all you managed was to roll onto your backside.

A pair of strong, familiar arms slid around your waist, pulling you back into a warm chest, the fleece of his collar brushing against your damp cheeks.

“I’ve got you doll.” Bucky murmured into your hair, and you shuddered, fighting back the urge to simply break down sobbing once more.

Holding out your hands awkwardly in front of you, trying to minimize the transfer of blood onto your respective uniforms, you leaned back into his warmth despite the fact that it was a sunny August day.

“Let’s get you to the doctor.” His voice was tense, wound tight with concern, and absent his usually playfulness as he slowly eased you to your feet.

“I’m fine.” You tried to protest, but an inadvertent whimper escaped your mouth as you tried to bear weight on your right leg.

“The hell you are.” He growled a little, pulling your arm over his shoulders, sliding his own arm around your waist, practically hefting you against his body.

As he turned to begin walking you down the path, you gasped to see your abandoned letter tumbling through the grass on the breeze.

“My letter!”

“I got it.” He grunted and set you down, fetching it quickly and shoving it in his pocket before lifting you up against him once more, helping you towards the hospital.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, keeping your gaze on the ground as you hobbled along beside him, not wanting to meet the eyes of anyone you may have passed along the way.

“Got nothing to apologize for, doll.” He shook his head, assisting you through the doors and into the building that smelled sharply of disinfectant.

“What about the blood on your clothes?” You protested.

“Probably mine.”

You looked to him quickly, frowning at the mirthless smile he delivered – an empty attempt at his usual humor. You noted he did seem to be in one piece, thankfully.

“What on earth…” Gasped the nurse on duty at the front desk as she hurried forward to slide your other arm over her shoulders, leading the pair of you to a bed in triage where she quickly began to remove your ruined stocking and deal with your still-bleeding knee. “This is probably going to need stitches, Lieutenant.”

You nodded silently, frowning down at her as she began to pluck the debris from your hands.

“What’s happened, Lieutenant?” A new voice joined the conversation, and you looked up to see one of the doctors, denoted by his white coat, had come to stand beside the nurse while Bucky loomed in the background, arms crossed, brow furrowed as he watched on intensely.

“Got some bad news, sir.” You replied, seizing the inside of your cheek between your teeth to deliver a sharp, steadying bite to your flesh as your lower lip wobbled traitorously. “It made me clumsy, and I tripped.”

You watched Bucky’s face somber even further than it already was, his arms unfolding to fall at his sides, though his fists remained clenched. You looked away quickly as you were certain he had been able to do the math. To figure out just what terrible news had driven you to your current state and you could not endure his look of sympathy – not and remain collected.

“We’ll take good care of her, Major.” The doctor said in a kind yet obvious dismissal and there was a moment of silence before you heard Bucky approach the side of your bed, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I’m going to let that terrifying Captain of yours know that you won’t be working the rest of the day.” He spoke softly, for only you to hear, and your head whipped to look at him, startled that he would dare take on Captain Miller.

Your eyes fell on the lingering marks on his cheek and nose from the Regensburg raid, wanting to protest, but on finding you simply did not have the energy to fight him, you conceded with a nod. By the time he returned, no more than thirty minutes later, you were cleaned, stitched, and bandaged with a tensor wrap on your ankle and a set of crutches.

“You need to keep off that ankle as much as possible, Lieutenant.” Doctor McLean, it turned out his name was, instructed.

“Yes, sir.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, Doc, I’ll make sure she gets where she needs to go.” Bucky chimed in and you looked to him, surprised he had returned so quickly.

“Thank you Major, with that in mind, you are free to go young lady. Keep to the pathways moving forward, please?”

“Yes, sir.” You repeated and used the crutches to rise to your feet, tucking them into your armpits to make slow progress toward the door.

Bucky followed along, patiently, removing any obstacles from your path before gesturing at the waiting jeep out front.

“Your chariot, doll.”

You looked to him skeptically. “I highly doubt this would be considered an appropriate use of army property, Major Egan.”

He shrugged. “No one else was using it, come on.” He guided you around to the passenger’s side, helping you onto the bench seat before taking your crutches to stash in the back. “You really, ok?” He asked quietly as he came to sit in the driver’s seat.

Nodding softly, you squeezed his hand as his fingers laced briefly with yours until he was forced to take it back to drive the vehicle. The trip to your quarters was markedly shorter thanks to the jeep, and you were unspeakably relieved to not have had to face it on crutches alone. Turning to thank Bucky, you blinked as he was already climbing out, bringing your crutches around.

“If you get caught in this area…”

“I’m assisting you to your quarters after an injury.” He insisted stubbornly and held them out to you.

You glanced around slowly before taking them, sliding to your feet carefully before making your way inside, once again grateful for his assistance as you hobbled over to your cot and sat heavily.

“Thank you, Bucky, you’ve been a really big help, but if you’re caught in here someone is going to murder you…”

He came to rest on his knees beside your bed, clearly choosing not to hear, or simply not caring about, your continued warnings. You pressed your lips together tightly, tucking them between your teeth as he produced your father’s letter from his pocket, setting it on the blanket beside you.

“I’m real sorry about your brother, doll.” He said quietly, forehead creased with unmasked sympathy. Your defences promptly crumbled, tears welling in your eyes and promptly spilling down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, shhh.” He shifted to quickly sit beside you, cradling you across his lap, holding you close as you turned your face to sob into his chest, fingers twisting into the fleece lining of his jacket where it hung open.

You lost all track of time in his arms, feeling safe enough to simply let your emotions run their course, have their way with you, in the privacy of your quarters. Thus, it was a surprise when you heard the gently clearing of Mary’s throat, lifting your head quickly to see her holding out one of her immaculate hankies while politely keeping her gaze on the rustic ceiling above.

“I have it on good authority that Captain Miller will be checking in on our darling Lieutenant shortly, so you may want to make yourself scarce, Major.” Her tone was warm and conspiratorial.

“Thank you, Mary.” Bucky spoke for the first time in a while, voice somewhat roughened by disuse. “I’ll see you for your ride to breakfast, doll.”

“Bucky, that’s really not necessary–”

“She usually eats at 0545.” Mary cut you off, clearly allying herself with him and against you. “Now I’ll take it from here.”

You huffed affectionately as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “You rest.”

“You, too.” You insisted stubbornly, feeling somewhat encouraged when he bestowed a smirk on you in response, sliding you from his lap onto the cot carefully and making his way out to remove himself and the jeep before your Captain could find him where he ought not to be.

“What was that you were saying to Vi and Ruth about not having tamed him?” Mary smirked, grabbing the hanky to begin dabbing at your cheeks with motherly roughness.

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

Read Part Three - "Trust Me, He's In Good Hands."

"Trust" Series Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @precious-little-scoundrel, @rubyfruitjungle, @storysimp

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #john egan fic #john egan imagine #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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stars4gojo · 8 months

Text

Evergreen Home

Gojo x reader, young megumi & tsumiki // You come home to a big surprise that changes your perception of home forever

You and Gojo sat on the edge of the table opposite to the two unsuspecting children who were eating pancakes with syrup like they were starved for months.

One of them looked like he’s a first grader, he had a permanent frown on his face - you couldn’t tell if he didn’t like the tension in the air or if he really just likes pancakes a lot.

The other child was a girl she looked at-least 9 years old. She seemed to be more aware of the situation as she gave you a lopsided smile - an obvious effort to reduce the the tension in the air.

You could sense Gojo’s nervous glances looking towards you occasionally as you tried to make sense of the situation.

“So…” Gojo was the first to break the awkward silence that had taken over your kitchen this morning.

You could hear the little girl sigh in relief when he spoke and you smiled a little to yourself as you saw her worried smile turn into something a little more genuine.

“So…?” You nudged Gojo with your elbow, urging him to continue.

“Right.” He cleared his throat before taking a slow sip from his coffee, obviously stalling as much as possible.

“Please stop kicking the table megumi” You heard the girl speak in hushed whispers.

“Megumi” you made the effort to say his name so no one but yourself could hear it, making a mental note of the child’s name.

“This is megumi and tsumiki!” Gojo spoke with a higher tension than before - trying to add some comedic relief to the very obviously suffocating situation.

“This little boy, Megumi” Gojo continued as he walked towards the boy and patted his head while the little boy, who clearly showed interest only in his pancakes, swatted Gojo’s hand away.

Gojo looked down at him with shock and you swear you could see Megumi smirk at his reaction causing a little giggle to almost slip from you as you quickly tried to hide it by covering your face with your coffee mug, quietly taking a sip.

“He’ll warm up soon” Gojo spoke awkwardly while rubbing the back of his neck, obviously effected by the straightforward rejection.

“Megumi here, is a descendant of the Zenin clan! Interesting isn’t it??” Gojo spoke looking directly looking at you expecting a reaction.

“Well satoru, why is there a child of the Zenin clan sitting in OUR kitchen eating the pancakes I made?” You asked while raising one eyebrow in curiosity as Gojo chuckled awkwardly.

“We’re getting there…” He said still giving you his toothy smile - you know that smile, THAT smile he gives to you so you don’t question his horrible and impulsive decisions. And you know what? You would’ve let it slide if this decision was like the time he brought home a kitten that very obviously had flees that needed immediate help or the time he signed you two up for a lifetime of scout cookies that you two had to give away as Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas hell even during new years they were being served at the annual party held in jujutsu high. But this wasn’t about cookies or a cat that now prances around your house like she owns it. No, these were two children, full living beings that now you two are supposedly responsible for?!???!

“Well Megumi here has inherited a very rare curse technique and his father tried to even sell him for it! And well since I’m the strongest, greatest most hand-“

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You interrupted with a blank stare as he cleared his throat before continuing.

“Yes, as I was saying I bargained a little here and there and made sure Megumi wouldn’t have to go with those cruel Zenins.” He ended his speech while giving you a proud smile as his hands rested on both of his hips and you could almost laugh about how much he looks like your aunt when she gossips.

“And the other one?” You asked with while pointing at the girl who was playing around with her fork.

“Ah! That’s tsumiki, she’s Megumis sister but she’s not a Zenin so she has no cursed techniques.” He said as he put his hands on the girls shoulders as she gave u a nervous smile.

“Okay.” You said with a curt smile.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Megumi and Tsumiki.“ Gojo’s face lit up at your words like when a child gets handed a cotton candy at the amusement park.

“But you’re going to have to excuse us for a second.” You continue as you feign a smile that quickly turns into a glare towards Gojo who carefully obliges and trails behind you.

“Look y/n before you get mad! i was gonna tell you, like I really was, it’s just that I had to make the two kids were safe from the Zenin clan before anything happened to them and I know we are kids ourselves and I probably didn’t think this through hard enough but I’m already their guar-“

He’s rambling you realise.

“Satoru” you interrupt him and he immediately stops.

“Yes?” He asks you quietly.

“Satoru look, I’m not mad I understand, you’re strong and since you’re strong you want to help those that are not strong but these are two children I mean- it’s not like when u picked up luna from the street this is VERY different.” You emphasised with slight harshness.

You could see how dejected Gojo was as the cogs in his brains moved to work out a way to convince you.

“But you’ve signed the papers and I definitely don’t want the kids to go to the Zenin clan… We’re gonna make it work, we always do. And they’re just little kids they mean no harm” You continued with a smile that doesn’t reach quite to your eyes Gojo notices but he knows you mean what you said.

“Well I wouldn’t put it past the little one, he may look all cute and sweet but he’s feisty alright.” Gojo says with a slight pout forming as you snort in response.

“Can’t believe you’ve had the kid for not even a week and are already getting bullied by him” You replied.

“I am NOT getting bull- that’s besides the point. I’m just really glad we can do this together really I cannot explain how thankful I am.” Gojo spoke in a soft spoken voice you’ve never heard before as he pulled you in an embrace.

As you peeked over Gojo’s shoulder you could see the two eyes peeking through the kitchen door with silent voices that you couldn’t quite make out.

“Boss said yes!!!” Gojo screamed excitedly as he hurriedly pulled away and made his way to the kitchen, quickly grabbing megumi and putting him on his shoulder as he high fived tsumiki who let out a timid “hooray” still looking at you.

And as you watched the entire scene unfold infront of you, you realised that you and Gojo could really make this work because this scene is now looking a lot like home to you.

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lincolndjarin · 3 months

Text

my way.

pairing : oberyn martell x f!reader

summary : being the prince of dorne can often be a rather stressful job, it's hard to give, and give, and give. sometimes you just need to be on the receiving end for a little while.

warnings, tags, etc : five seconds of plot to build up to a whole lot of porn, pegging (obvi), medieval strap on, glass toys, fingering, oberyn sucks the strap, allusions to other partners, referring to a dildo as a cock, multiple orgasms, overstimulation if you squint, premature ejaculation?? idk he cums fast bc i'm a sucker for that, cum play, reader has brief penis envy idk if that's the term but yeah, spit as lube bc its the olden days or whatever, anal sex, soft & loving sex, sort of a gentle dom vibe from reader, they're married <3 <3 <3, aftercare, i didn't really edit this as much as i should have (i'm sleepy) so apologies in advance

a/n : hello lovelies !!!! i am back from my little break with a little middle aged man pegging!! check out @wannab-urs who put together this entire project for a full masterlist of everyones works soon <3 apologies if i'm a little rusty i'm still getting back into my writing groove :3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Everything always has to be his way.

If you didn’t love him so much it would probably irritate you more. And when it does bother you he always does his best to fix it but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating. Your sweet prince has always done right by you but he’s never done it your way, and when things don’t go exactly as he wants them to he becomes a real pain.

You know it isn’t entirely his fault of course. The combination of never being told no and having to make decisions that affect the people of Dorne in real time, often leaves him stressed beyond comprehension.

Today it seems to be particularly bad as he paces around your shared chambers. You had spent your day reading and baking bread, everything had been perfectly fine until he burst through the door, rambling about a funding dispute he’s been having with his brother for weeks now. You can tell by the glint in his eye that things clearly aren’t going his way, before you get a chance to comfort him he snaps at you.

“Stop looking at me like that.” It’s a small critique, you have been staring at him waiting for this sort of thing, so you take control of the situation rather quickly.

“Let me give you a chance to apologize before this becomes a fight.” You cross your arms in front of your chest. He immediately picks up on the annoyance in your voice as his features soften from anger to shame.

“I’m sorry.” He really means it as he bows his head a bit. “It’s just- It’s been a difficult day.” He makes his way over to you, taking one of your hands, kissing your knuckles. “I’m sorry, my stars.”

“I know, my moon, it’s okay.” You move the hand he holds to his lips, cradling his face briefly as he smiles, to your dismay it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s still tense.

“I think I’d go mad if I didn’t get to come home to you each day.” You don’t doubt that.

“Why don’t you let me help you out a little?” You wrap your arms around him, letting your fingers tangle in the hair at the base of his neck. “Let me take care of you.” You barely speak above a whisper now as his body starts to relax in response to your touch. He walks you towards the bed until the backs of your knees hit the mattress, just as expected he immediately takes control of the situation, barely letting you get another word in as his hands slide down your waist like they’ve done countless times before except this time you catch his wrists before he can get that far. “Can you lay down for me?” The moment you ask the question he raises an eyebrow before complying, moving to sit with his back against the headboard as you go to your nightstand.

You’ve used the toy a few times before with your other partners but as far as you know Oberyn’s never even seen it. You haven’t made any effort to hide it from him but he’s always so quick to act when it’s just the two of you, he never gives you much of a chance to do anything but take what he gives. No wonder he’s so stressed, he’s never taken a moment to just receive.

The moment you crawl up the bed to him he’s already back on you. All teeth and hands as he pulls you against him, you have to force yourself to pull away from him though it pains you greatly.

“Not yet- I want to try something new.” You don’t give him a chance to question as you reach across him to your nightstand. You just had a new toy made, hand blown glass, for this sort of occasion, as you toss it down next to him his eyes squint in confusion before going wide.

“Where did you get that, my love?” His words drawl a bit, his Dornish accent hangs heavy in the air as you lift your dress over your head, tossing it aside, sitting before him completely bare as you slip into the leather straps, cinching the buckles carefully before taking the toy and holding it in one hand languidly.

“A glass smith nearby has been more than willing to experiment with his craft for me. Is this something you’re interested in trying?” You can already tell what his answer is going to be based on his expression but you still want to hear him say it.

“Of course, I’d try anything for you.” He purrs softly as you push him back into the pillows. You lay him back, an action he’s done to you countless times before, tugging at the cords of his robe. Between the two of you, eager to get him undressed, it only takes a moment before the fabric hits the floor. Once he’s as bare as you are you’re able to see just how much the idea thrills him as his red tipped cock slaps against his stomach.

“Do you think you can relinquish control for just a little while, my prince?” You rake your nails against his chest lightly as he nods. “Good. I don’t want you to worry about a thing, put all your focus on taking what I give you, do you understand?” You stop your hands movement downwards right as you reach the patch of hair on his lower stomach.

“Absolutely.” He flashes you a toothy grin and you can’t help but respond with one of your own.

“You will do as I say then. And if I ask something of you that you do not like then you will say stop, is that clear?” You want so badly to take his cock into your hands or mouth but you’re trying to be patient as you pull your hand back. This is for his sake, not yours.

“Perfectly clear.” His hips twitch upwards a bit, almost taunting your resolve as you press him back down into the mattress.

“Lovely,” You hum, stroking the glass toy between your fingers before bringing it to his mouth, tapping his lips. “Open.” He complies quickly, parting his lips as you slide the tip of the toy in, reveling in his moans. He looks so… right, like this. Eyes wide and eager as his tongue laps at the cool glass, tracing the ridges, legs spread, and cock twitching in excitement. You can’t help but wonder why you didn’t do this sooner.

You push the fake cock just a little further past his lips before letting him take hold of it, turning to other matters.

“Warm that up please, you wouldn’t want it to be cold when I fill you up.” As you murmur those words he groans against the glass.

Unceremoniously you spit into your hand, giddy with excitement as you nudge his legs a bit further apart. You spread the plush flesh of his ass to notch your digits at his hole, gently pushing just the tip of your pointer finger in, feeling him tighten around you with a gasp.

“Relax, my love.” You coo, waiting until his muscles release a bit before pushing onward. This isn’t your first time doing this sort of thing of course but it is the first time he’s going to be taking something other than your fingers or tongue, so you work him open slowly. Watching the stress unravel from his body as you work in a second finger, curling and scissoring them as his back arches, cock bobbing against his stomach as his fingers grip the sheets around him.

When he’s able to take three of your fingers you pull the toy from his mouth with a soft pop, the toy slick with spit and properly warmed easily slips into the designated slot on your harness. He watches with a palpable anticipation as you get yourself situated. When you’re ready you’re kneeling between his legs, glass cock standing proudly against your pelvis.

“Ready?” You ask as you gently lift his legs, bringing his knees to his chest as he nods, damn near whimpering.

You push into him, slowly, as you gauge his reaction. Usually he’s all grunts and grumbles during sex but now he’s gasps and whines. His hands clutch the pillows surrounding his head as he tries to push himself further onto the toy but the position you’ve got him in keeps him in place.

“You want more?” There’s a mocking lilt to your voice as he nods rapidly.

“Yes- please.” He purses his lips as he whimpers and you’re more than happy to oblige, watching the sight before you as his hole swallows your cock, his own dick leaking against his stomach, begging for a release. You adjust your hips a bit, watching his back attempt to arch as you do so. “Th-there.” His voice is strained as you hit that sweet spot inside of him. Ever so gently you pull out before rocking yourself back against it.

“There? Is that what you want?” You continue to speak in a teasing tone but you truly want to know, this is all for his sake, you want so badly to make him feel good. His cheeks are flushed, warm skin slick with sweat as he continues to nod. You repeat the motion a few more times, caught off guard when he lets out a low whine and you watch as his cock pulses, untouched, as he paints his torso. His breath catches in his throat as he does so. “Oh my, look at the mess you’ve made, and so quickly.” You drag a finger over his heaving chest, scooping up some of his spend to taste, letting the bitter sweetness coat your tongue. “You were more pent up than I thought, my love. I think you still have some stress that needs releasing.”

“I-I’m sorry.” He stammers, looking a bit embarrassed but you immediately shake your head, leaning forward to kiss his forehead while simultaneously sinking back into him.

“Don’t apologize for feeling good, sunshine. That’s what this is all for.” You bump your nose against his, hoping to reassure him. “Do you think you could give me one more, I just want to make sure I get all the stress out.” You emphasize your words with a small push of his legs tighter against his chest, earning a soft mewl from him.

“I can do one more.”

“Wonderful.” You kiss his cheek before picking up the same pace you were at just moments ago. Happily watching his cock jump back to life. You take the opportunity to drag your fingers through the cum cooling on his abdomen, drawing little shapes as he begins to reach that same peak rapidly all over again. You adore the sight of your glass cock sliding in and out of him. He takes you so well, his hole fluttering as he lets you fuck him. You wish you had a real cock just so you could feel him tighten around you but this will have to do. His neglected dick continues to rest against his happy trail, desperate to be touched. This time you help him out, wrapping your hand around his cock, with a few quick pumps he’s coating his stomach in cum all over again.

It’s positively euphoric to see the prince of Dorne like this.

Just for you. Spread before you without a care in the world, stuffed full of your cock and happy as can be.

You give him a moment to catch his breath before pulling out, peppering his cheeks with kisses before slipping out of the harness and leaving to get him some water as well as something to wipe him up with.

You gently wipe him down with a warm washcloth, cleaning him while continuing to kiss his face as he yawns.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, taking your face in his hands, pulling you forward for another kiss.

“Anytime, we take care of each other, I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” You climb under the blankets with him, tangling your limbs with his as he rests his face in the crook of your neck, clearly exhausted as he falls asleep against you. You feel your own exhaustion hit, smiling to yourself as you close your eyes. You couldn’t be happier that he let you try things your way.

#PMAMC2024 #pmamc 2024 #lincolndjarin #one shot #oberyn martell #prince oberyn #oberyn x reader #oberyn / reader #oberyn martell x reader #pedro pascal fic #oberyn martell fic

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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 1 month

Text

Alastor - [ MASQUERADE PT. 2 ]

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A/N: I physically can not refrain from writing smut with angst or implied angst… please forgive me.. ❤️

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SMUT ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ MALE READER ] + [ SLIGHT ANGST ]

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“Would you mind if I came to see you again? I'll be in town by the weekend.” You tried not to smile too hard as the question left your lips, carrying through the telephone’s gentle crackling to resonate to the receiving end clearly, and the man you'd grown to cherish after a few short months of quiet correspondence gave a low response.

“I'll have you all to myself?” Alastor tugged your inquiry along with his own, smirking as you huffed dramatically and no doubt rolled your eyes at his words.

“As always, Al. You know I'm not one for having many friends,” you admit, slumping further into your living room sofa as if to sink through cushions and disappear from the blooming embarrassment you felt hearing him laugh again.

It was your second favorite thing about him. His honest charm was the first, and that had yet to change since the last time you'd enjoyed his company. Exactly six months ago, during your second visit to the City of Jazz, it was fun!

Alastor had essentially filled the void you'd been unable to conceal, keeping you on your toes at every turn and stringing you along in affectionate mind games you knew better than to entertain.

It was difficult not to, though; he knew what to say, what to do with you, and how to handle you. At times, you considered the idea of him being no ordinary man.

Devilish.

That's how you'd describe him to anyone who asked. Alastor was a striking character, able to overshadow your persona with a gentle smile, making you feel very accessible.

You weren't allowed freedom from judgment, public image, and parasocial expectations like every silver screen star was subjected to. Fortunately, you had no obligations with Alastor, no point to prove, and you amounted such casualness to the building of mutual bonding.

He understood fame and its demands.

He understood you…more than most.

Alastor interrupted your wandering thoughts with a witty comment, “Hm, touche, but I suppose I'm the exception.” You scoffed, grinning at the ceiling before making an equally snarky retort.

“Don't sound so full of yourself..” you heard him click his tongue, a sharp sound you wished to hear in person again sooner rather than later.

“But it's the truth, mon cher. Plain and simple.” he concurs, and you shift to sit up straight, reaching for the glass on the coffee table before you, studying the few ounces of liquor before downing the bitter liquid. “Am I welcome or not, Mr. Hartifelt?” You suck your teeth, nose scrunching as the alcohol flushes your veins, promoting your nerves to settle and easing your heart rate as you wait for his answer.

You felt a thrill from just speaking to him. It was beautiful, really, and scandalous to some degree.

Falling for a man you’d met only a handful of times shouldn’t be possible, but here you were, waiting with bated breath to hear his decision to see you again.

Please say yes…just one last time.

Alastor smiled, taking his time to contemplate your offer while leaning back in his desk chair, eyes trained on the intricate soundboard he sat at. He'd grown attached to you in one way or another, unsure if it was pure curiosity or pity on his part. Both reasons hadn't plagued him before your first encounter, and Alastor refused to acknowledge such impractical emotions, reminding himself that you were nothing more than a tag-along for him.

A lonely soul he could very quickly leave behind.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

That's what he forced his conscience to believe, willing itself to envision his compliance to your request as intrigue rather than genuine affection.

“I wouldn't dream of you refusing you, my friend. I look forward to spending time with you soon,” his answer was concise, a brief hint of satisfaction in his tone, and you immediately blurted out a joyous remark of relief.

“Then it’s settled! I’ll see you in two days,” a bright smile stretched across your face as he laughed softly on the other end, “You make it sound as if I’m your only reason for living, my dear.” Alastor shakes his head at his statement, knowing it held truth and proud to know he had such an effect on you.

Am I really that obvious to him?…

A stab of embarrassment hit you square in the heart, a subtle frown replacing your grin as you reflected on the time you’d spent with the radio host. He’d taken you anywhere and everywhere in New Orleans, insisted you join him for dinner on nights he wasn’t broadcasting, and even made an effort to view your recent film. However, he avidly proclaimed his hate for lackluster visual media.

However, he never criticized your films, choosing to compliment your scenes, or congratulating your recent success on his broadcast, as any good friend should do.

You couldn’t recall when Alastor had ever let on he knew of your attraction to him. Yes, he pried at your emotions for the hell of it a few times, but he’d never explicitly acknowledged it.

This was the first time he’d even alluded to such feelings, and your nerves were alert instantly, mind going blank as you navigated your flustered state before murmuring into the phone with a sheepish smile.

“You think very highly of yourself, Alastor..”

“Apologies, my dear. I’m partial to being honest with you. Take it as a form of flattery, if you will.”

His attempt at a modest apology failed, but you had no intention of stamping out his smug nature. Alastor’s blatant confidence was refreshing, and though you wished to keep speaking with him, your evening wasn’t absent of essential events to attend to.

You bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, wishing him a good evening despite knowing he’d put off sleep until the early morning to keep broadcasting as long as possible, and he returned the subtle sentiment before ending the call.

Hours passed, pictures were taken, interviews were conducted, and fans were screaming your name, but the only person on your mind was Alastor.

The following two days felt tortious, a strained waiting game you couldn’t wait to finish, and the second you arrived back in New Orleans and found the time to slip away from your manager, you headed straight for your usual rendezvous spot with the acclaimed radio host.

Club Intime

—- ——- ——- ——- ———

There he was, relaxed in the seclusion of a velvet lounge booth, merely hidden away from the rest of the dimly lit speakeasy. Alastor wasn’t one to socialize unnecessarily. He was content with observing others through the lenses of his round glasses that were beginning to fog up from the fumes of his cigarette, a cold glass half full of whiskey set before him to aid his solitary sedation.

From afar, he looked out of place, cordial, and put together, unlike the rest of the patrons waltzing around. The only unkempt detail about him was the state of his bow tie and collar. He’d undone it the second he sat down, nimble fingers unlacing the stiff ribbon before trying to unbutton his dress shirt's first two clasps. It was a habit he’d yet to avoid after a long evening of work and one you thoroughly enjoyed.

The insignificant results hit just the right nerves, drawing your eyes to his clean-cut features, caramel skin, and hidden scars that he’d once called “unavoidable trophies.” From what or who you weren't sure.

You’d thought to ask him why he felt so highly of his wounds, concerned they’d hit deeper than he let on, but Alastor reassured you through a tight smile your sympathy for him wasn’t needed.

He was a proud man, very sure of himself, and it showed even in a room full of illicit drinkers and rowdy partygoers. Intimidating was the easiest way to describe him, and you felt exactly that way as his hazel eyes settled on you from across the room: intimidated.

You stood at the club's entrance, letting one of the hosts take your coat, but as he asked which table you preferred, you politely declined his offer before looking back at Alastor.

He hadn’t moved, still staring you down with a gentle smile, glasses pushed to the top of his head, and drink in one hand while the cigarette dangled above its rim nestled between two of his fingers.

God, he was beautiful, like a demon straight out of hell.

Alastor tipped his head, signaling you to come his way, and you did with a certain excitement in your eyes. He studied you just the same as you’d done to him, watching your form intently as you snaked through the bustling crowd toward your regular table with him, and by the time you were close enough to call his name, a shameless grin was on your face.

“Al!” You shouted above the drumming music, slipping to sit beside him in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t hesitate to make room for you. “I see you made it to town safely, my dear!” He placed his drink down, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it in the liquor. You blushed at the sight of him exhaling the smoke, brown eyes trained on you and an expectant glint in them as he shifted to face you.

“Y-Yes, well, you’ve been an excellent guide the first few times I’ve come here, so I suppose I’m used to the city now.” You smiled at him softly, hoping he’d disregard the stutter in your voice, but knowing him, you were sure he’d caught it very clearly.

Nothing ever got past Alastor.

He hummed, flattered by your praise but more interested in your apparent nervousness. You had yet to act unbothered by him, which amused the radio host.

“Glad to know my assistance was helpful. Do you plan to stay longer this time round?” Alastor rested an arm on the table, chin finding his open palm, and his head now level with yours.

Fuck, I forget how tall he is sometimes…Jesus Christ…

You gulp, blood running hot as his gaze bores into yours, searching for an answer you had yet to give him. It felt hard to breathe for a moment; all you could hear was your heartbeat and the muffled noise of the club.

Why’d he always have to be so close?

Didn’t he know who you were, who he was, what this looked like to other people?

Granted, the onlookers were drunk or too dizzy from dancing to focus on you both.

But the risk of it all, that unmistakable boldness Alastor embodied, had you nervous in all the right ways.

After a beat of silence and staring, you mustered up the courage to give him a response. “Seeing as I have time off from filming, I’ll spend it here. A change of scenery is an actor's best challenge.” You broke eye contact with him, staring into the crowd to keep from fidgeting as he nodded with a low hum, “So, in other words, I won’t be rid of you anytime soon?” Alastor chuckled as you feigned offense at his question, head snapping towards him and a discreet frown on your lips.

“That was quite rude of you to say, Mr. Hartifelt. Especially since I came all the way here to see you…”

A mischievous spark lit up his eyes, smile growing devilish as you glared at him, “Ah, so I am the apple of your eye, mon cher…”

It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t pose the observation as anything else, wanting to bait you into a confession, and he succeeded quicker than you realized.

“No, I did come to experience the city,” you retort flatly, tempted to order a drink and down it to freeze the nerves burning your skin.

Alastor glanced around, assuring no one was invested in your exchange, before dipping his head to whisper in your ear. “Don’t lie to me, cher. I can see it written all over your face, and I must admit it’s a delight to see.” You could practically hear the wicked grin on his lips, sweet and sinister all at once.

Damn. It.

You paled as he pulled back, smirk ever present as he waved a waiter down to order another drink as if he hadn’t reduced you to a fluttery mess beside him.

You sat pin straight, willing to breathe, and on the verge of zoning out completely.

“And what would you like to order, monsieur?” The waiter addressed you, brow raised as you flinched from the sudden question, “I…uh…I-I’ll have the…” you inwardly panicked from the lack of coherent speech left on your tongue, but the building embarrassment dulled as Alastor spoke up for you.

“He’ll have the same as me. Double it and bring the tab as well. Merci.”

“Je vais le faire sortir tout de suite, monsieur. “ The waiter nodded, taking down Alastor’s request quickly before throwing you a strange look and strutting away.

You had to pull it together, or the image you worked so hard for Katina would crumple at one man’s behest, and deep down, you didn’t mind.

It was tiring being perfect, faking your entire personality for the masses's support, and the longer you lingered in Alastor’s company, the more enticing it was just to let it all go.

To drop the mask you wore like an overbearing shroud.

Just once, you’d like to be another person, someone less empty and carnally fulfilled.

One night wouldn’t hurt, right?

You glanced at Alastor, entranced by his lax manner, foot tapping to the swinging melodies and his eyes scanning the room as if searching for prey.

One night with him…wouldn’t be your end, right?

He didn't pretend with you, nor sugar coat his thoughts and actions in hopes of impressing you, and on more than one occasion you both sought some form of imtalcay from the other.

This man had seen what others couldn’t, so why deny yourself a chance at fleeting freedom?

He could pick you apart and put you back together again, and you wouldn’t mind.

So long as Alastor remained the only man to see through you.

One night.

That’s all you asked him for when your drinks arrived, and you were prepared for him to reject your offer, but the sting of refusal never came.

He accepted the arrangement, smile wide, and his eyes hazing over with lust the moment your question reached his ears.

“I thought you’d never ask, cher….”

The night was a whirlwind after that; the tab left on the table tallied to a large sum from the amount of alcohol ordered, and by the end of two hours, you were utterly inebriated.

You met the comfort of your hotel room not long after your time at the hidden bar, stumbling through the door by Alastors lead, laughing softly as his grip on your wrist tightened when you reached behind to close and lock the door.

If you'd seen the malicious edge to his smile as your lips met, you could've sensed danger before it arrived. Maybe if you'd stopped to think properly as clothes were tossed to the floor and his hands met your bare skin, you would've been weary of how cold they felt. Maybe if you'd perceived the rapid pace of your heart as fear for your life and not a side effect of mind-boggling pleasure while he fucked you to the point of tears, you could've vied for safety.

If only you'd seen through his mask, through his glamorous praises, and listless stares…

Maybe you could've survived and tried to fight him, but the rewards of cracking under his pressure rendered such critical thinking useless.

Once. Twice. A third.

Alastor took you from one height of pleasure to the next, forcing whatever bit of raw honesty he could out of you with a series of unforgiving thrusts, swallowing your breathless moans with shallow kisses. He'd never let you utter a word of refusal, using your body to the fullest without a second thought and scarcely sympathetic of how much you could take from him.

At the mercy of your fourth high, you clung to him, nails digging into his scarred back, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and your chest heaving with quiet groans of his name. Alastor could feel the stray tears on your cheeks, melting on his skin, exciting him to no end. “Oh, you poor thing..” he teased you through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as your walls tightened around his cock, another whine rippling your throat at the condensing remark.

“To think so many adore you, and yet here you are…” Alastor pressed his weight down onto you entirely, hands tight on your hips as he deepened his strokes, reaching places inside you that felt almost foreign. You gave up trying to speak, scratching down his back instead as a wordless warning for release, but he didn't let up.

“…showing your true colors to me. I could almost feel sport for you, Cher.” his tone dripped with vague pity, full of satisfaction as he buried himself in you, earning a soft gasp on your part and a fulfilled grown from him.

A warmth enveloped your core as he spilled his cum into you, adding to the amount he'd already so graciously given and triggering your release in seconds.

“Don't want you to feel bad for me..” you huff tiredly, eyes rolling as your cock twitched and leaked between you. Alastor hummed, eyes lowering the sight of skin glossing over with the sticky white fluid, “I pity any soul as desperate as yours, darling…”

“Desperate?” you question him with a lazy smile, ready to correct his comment but failing to as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and restless.

“Desperate to be loved by any and everyone…” Alastor clarifies, staring at you with a soft smile on his lips as he leans down to graze them over your parted ones.

“Even by a killer like me…”

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I finally completed this!!!! I'm seriously considering getting an Alastor blanket to curl up in because the stress I've been feeling this week is wild…❤️

Quick side note: do you all realize Alastor would be the most toxic partner in history? Yes, he's sweet, respectful, dashing, and everything else needed to be a surface-level perfect companion. But once you get past all of that, there's not a single aspect of your life Alastor wouldn't control, stalking you, weaving webs of lies to isolate you, using minor signs of affection as a way to keep you close, and buying you gifts to mask all his deep seeded antagonism. He would be your dream man but a total nightmare in one way or another.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Pilot Alsstor was something else I love him so muchhhh ❤️ credit to creator

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